I don't even know where to begin.
I received an email from my mom this morning mentioning a terrorist attack in Nairobi. I checked CNN immediately, and there was a reported 30 dead, 60 injured, and 36 held hostage after a shooting in a mall.
The attack was lead by Al-Shabaab, an al Qaeda-linked militant group based in Somalia. Sources say all Muslims were escorted from the mall before the attack began, so they were unharmed. The final reports count 39 dead and 293 flown to hospitals. Check out CNN and Reuters articles for more information.
God has always granted me the gift of sympathy, or feeling what others feel. At times it's a blessing - there's nothing better than sharing joys and triumphs with my friends. This time, it's a burden. I see the photos posted online, and I feel the pain. I see the bodies and scared faces of children, and all I can picture are my friends who live only a few hours away from the attack.
I know the pain I'm feeling is only a small fraction of what our Father feels for his children who must join his kingdom too soon.
My heart goes out to the families affected by this tragedy.
I pray for healing for the injured. I pray for strength and wisdom for the doctors.
I pray for the gunmen. I pray that God reveals himself to them and they turn to Christ.
I pray that the faith of the survivors and families remains strong. I pray they grow closwer to Christ. I pray that their stories bring others to Christ.
I still have tales to tell from my own trip this summer, but I feel this takes priority. I thank God that non of my Kenyan friends were in Nairobi yesterday, and that no more than 39 were taken from their families.
Even in the darkness, we musten't forget to give thanks and praise.
Saturday, September 21, 2013
Wednesday, September 4, 2013
Miracles Still Happen
Oh golly. It's been almost a month since my last post. Yikes!
But of course, I'm still missing Africa every single day. And I still have so many stories to tell.
So one of the main lessons I learned in Kenya this summer was about prayer. I've always been a huge believer and supporter of prayer. My family prayed before meals and bedtime growing up. I still pray with friends and roommates before most meals. My mom has always called me her "prayer partner," and she'll call me up every once in a while and ask me to pray for someone in the family.
But prayer didn't become real to me until Kenya. We visited a nearby village, Turkana. The people there were so eager to talk about faith and God. It was refreshing. Our team leader told us about a man, James, who had quite a dilemma. For several weeks, every time James would enter his home, he was overcome by great pain. He had to sleep outside because of it, which was extremely dangerous. His family was so scared for him.
When we met James, he took us into his home. Even though we spoke different languages, it was obvious the pain was real. He could barely lift his arms. His eyes were cloudy and almost in tears. We had to physically help him walk across the tiny room. It was the most bizarre, heartbreaking thing I had ever witnessed.
So, we helped James to the middle of the room. And we prayed. And we prayed.
"Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them."
Matthew 18:19-20
Finally, we stopped. We looked up at James, and he was sitting deathly still. My initial thought was, "Oh God, we killed him!" But then he lifted his head, and his eyes sparkled. He stood up and shook out both his feet. He marched around the room. He raised his arms above his head. We all praised God.
But of course, I'm still missing Africa every single day. And I still have so many stories to tell.
So one of the main lessons I learned in Kenya this summer was about prayer. I've always been a huge believer and supporter of prayer. My family prayed before meals and bedtime growing up. I still pray with friends and roommates before most meals. My mom has always called me her "prayer partner," and she'll call me up every once in a while and ask me to pray for someone in the family.
But prayer didn't become real to me until Kenya. We visited a nearby village, Turkana. The people there were so eager to talk about faith and God. It was refreshing. Our team leader told us about a man, James, who had quite a dilemma. For several weeks, every time James would enter his home, he was overcome by great pain. He had to sleep outside because of it, which was extremely dangerous. His family was so scared for him.
When we met James, he took us into his home. Even though we spoke different languages, it was obvious the pain was real. He could barely lift his arms. His eyes were cloudy and almost in tears. We had to physically help him walk across the tiny room. It was the most bizarre, heartbreaking thing I had ever witnessed.
So, we helped James to the middle of the room. And we prayed. And we prayed.
"Again, truly I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything they ask for, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three gather in my name, there am I with them."
Matthew 18:19-20
I can't even begin to tell you what kind of influence that had on my prayer life. Miracles like that happened every day while we were in Kenya, and I know they happen here. God even healed me from a terrible headache during band camp after a few minutes of prayer.
Miracles still happen. Every day. God didn't stop working after the New Testament. He's still alive, and he's still working in our world every day. We just need to call on him, and to believe.
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