So, How's Swaziland?

Anyone who’s ever spent any time abroad, whether for school, work, or volunteering, is all too familiar with the question, “So, how’s your trip?” or, “How are things in [location]?” Most people expect responses such as, “Great!” or, “Challenging!” or, “Really rewarding!” All of that is true, of course, but it’s almost impossible to articulate what truly goes on in this life.

I recently had the task of sending a quarterly update to my home church. The following is from is the message I sent:

Life here can be described as busy, chaotic, unpredictable, intense, and immensely wonderful, all at the same time.

I would describe a typical day, but, of course, there is no such thing. I live at the Hope for Life girls’ home with fourteen girls, ages 9 to 21, along with the founder of our organization, Mary-Kate Martin.  We also have our two kids, Benny (2 years old) and Lucia (3 years old), whose mother used to live in the home. These girls have been abused on several different levels, but you could never tell by the joy that radiates from their hearts in this home.  Every afternoon, I tutor the girls, lead one-on-one devotions, and deal with any typical girl drama that comes with having fourteen sisters (which is a lot). This is the only girls’ home in this area, and women’s ministries are few and far between in this country.

While I adore these girls, my heart is really with the prostitutes of this city. My primary responsibility is running the Blossom House Workshop, which is a craft business to employ struggling women and teach them skills such as sewing, jewelry making, and the responsibilities of employment and earning a paycheck. I never imagined I’d be running a small business right after earning my music education degree, but here I am! God has prepared me for this position in so many ways, and it is always the highlight of my days.

Pursuing women in prostitution is no easy calling, but even the shortest of interactions is so rewarding. I spend time with girls in a nearby squatter camp, praying with them and simply sharing life. Whenever I can, I also go out to the city streets at night, offering the girls working corners a ride home early. Nothing breaks my heart more than watching a young woman, probably no older than me, get into a man’s car that speeds away for twenty minutes before dropping her back off at her post. This is a battle so rooted in culture and sin that there’s no way it can be won overnight, but it is a battle I will never face alone, with Christ on my side.

My soul longs to show these women their value, worth, beauty, and purity in Christ, despite the world viewing them as dirty, shameful, and worthless.

Please pray for this organization, as we are constantly under a spiritual attack, for the Enemy is intimidated by the Good work we are doing. Pray for us as we close on, renovate, and move into a new home by the end of the year that will house 22 girls. Pray for Benny and Lucia’s mom, who is expecting her third child at 20 years of age. Pray for our girls, that they all will accept Christ into their hearts and declare his goodness in their lives. Pray for the prostitutes, that they will be safe tonight and learn that they are valuable and that there is a way out. Pray for the men, that they will become men of God and learn to truly love and cherish women. Pray for this nation, that the sinful culture will begin to shift and make this place a pulpit for Africa, proclaiming Truth across the continent. Pray for me, that my love and passion for this nation and these women will always come from God and will never cease, even in the darkest nights.

Thank you, family. God bless.

Just for Me

I round the corner and see the massive mountain before me. Execution Rock towers high above my head, and I can’t believe I actually agreed to go on this hike. Garret, Tony, and three of the girls are far ahead of me, while the other three were left far behind. I was able to keep up with the guys for a while, but this out-of-shape flatland Kansan girl is still adjusting to the elevation of this region. The temptation to stay behind to “watch” the others was great, but I knew I would regret it if I did. So here I am now, this steep incline ahead of me, caught between those who ran ahead and those who gave up long ago.

I take a deep breath and start to climb. As I begin, a thought pops in my head.

Faith can move mountains.

Great, I think. So why can’t this mountain just level out a bit so I can climb it? Internally, I chuckle at myself (but only internally, because to do so externally would waste precious breath). And then I think, What is my mountain?

Swaziland is my mountain. Pursuing prostitutes. Mothering fourteen girls. Running a small craft business. These make my mountain.

As I continue to climb, I dare to turn and look down, just for a moment. I could very easily see the long, winding path from where I’d come. Places where the road was smooth, where hikers had paved before, and trails blazed completely by scratch by the few who went before me, as well as a few blazed completely by myself. And it is like looking at my own past; my own journey that brought me to this point.

Good, easy years. Rough, challenging times. Good company, and bad. Times when I knew exactly where I was going, and times when I had to trust the people in front of me. Times when I had to make my own path, whether they led to fruit or destruction.

I turn my focus back on the current climb. I force my aching muscles to pull my body up and up. I hear the others ahead of me, and I know I’m close.

I reach to the top of this ledge, and the others are still nowhere in sight. I follow the path around the edge of the mountain, and discover a view so breathtaking, I could just stop here. I take a moment to absorb it. But this still isn’t the summit, so I can only imagine what’s to come.

I find my five comrades perched on a rock overlooking the entire game park. It is certainly a sight to behold, and I take a moment to rest. Before I know it, Garret is pointing to a bigger, higher rock behind us, and we all run to find the best way up.

Garret, Tony, and Ayanda are already almost all the way to the top, and I just watch. Some people train for months, or even years, to climb mountains. They have the clothes, ropes, and whatever other fancy equipment you use to keep safe. But all I have is my own tired strength and these worn-out purple tennis shoes.

Some people train for years to run a business. Some people study at seminary to become a missionary in a foreign country. I have done none of the preparation, yet here I am, doing exactly those things.

Garret calls down from the rock, “You can see zebras from here!” and I am elated. ZEBRAS?! These are my favorite African animals…besides South African penguins, which would be more than shocking to find on top of this Swazi mountain.

Instead of scaling the giant stone, I climb over the smaller rocks surrounding it, finding ways around pointy trees and dodging a few lizards. And then, I see them.

A young zebra feeding from its mother, and about half a dozen more grazing just beyond those two. They’re so close – just about thirty yards away, if that. They’re so peaceful and beautiful.

I must get closer.

Mama Zebra keeps a close eye on me as I venture closer. About twenty feet from these gorgeous creatures, I can’t help but thinking…

God put these zebras here, just for me.

I might not have climbed to the very top of Execution Rock with the others, but God still had something there, just for me.

Whatever I do, I might not end up in the same place as everyone else, or have the same prize as everyone else, but God has something in store, just for me.

What were you?

Brothers and sisters, think of what you were when you were called. Not many of you were wise by human standards; not many were influential; not many were of noble birth. But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong.
1 Corinthians 1:26-27

I was going through some old photos on my laptop last night, and I found some gems from pre- and early high school, such as a family vacation to Las Vegas and a trip to Chicago with my brother. I hadn’t opened these files in at least six years, and what I found was almost laughable.

Back when I wore boys’ clothes, cut my own bangs, and had terrible acne. It was a somewhat shocking sight. And it’s almost more shocking to think about who I was back then.

An angsty, adolescent female who dreamt of rock concerts and wanted nothing to do with church. Who was teased at school and could count her shady social circle on one hand. Who didn’t want to exist and regularly scripted suicide notes.

This was about two years before I read the words, “For all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God” (Romans 3:23) and studied Lewis’s Mere Christianity in Sunday school, which God used to help lead me back to Him. When I think of that girl, that lost sheep, it’s hard to believe she’s now living in Africa as a missionary to “defend the weak and the fatherless, uphold the cause of the poor and the oppressed,” and to “rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked” (Psalm 82:3-4).

There’s no way that transformation could have happened by my own power, or solely by the power of therapists or medication (not that I don’t condone seeking professional counseling).

That transformation was done by the power of Christ. He is the reason I am sitting at a dining room table in my house in Swaziland, surrounded by thread and fabric and paper beads to teach struggling women how to support themselves out of prostitution.

There’s no way I can say, or even think, “Way to go, Rachel! You did it! You made something of yourself!”

All I can say is, “Wow, God. You repaired this weak, broken vessel, and now you are using it as a testament of your love and grace. I owe everything I am to you.”

It is because of him that you are in Christ Jesus, who has become for us wisdom from God – that is, our righteousness, holiness and redemption. Therefore, as it is written: “Let the one who boasts boast in the Lord.”
1 Corinthians 1:30-31

Space for Grace

Something I’ve often heard is that if you pray to God for patience, He will provide you opportunities to learn it. This phrase has always been shared with me as a warning. I’ve even been told that it’s “dangerous” to pray for patience, because you never know what God will use to help you learn it.

I feel that God is teaching me a similar lesson with grace. Spending a majority of my time living with 14 adolescent females (regardless of culture and living conditions) is a huge challenge – and an opportunity to learn about grace.

First, I have to look at the grace given to me from God.

The law was brought in so that the trespass might increase. But where sin increased, grace increased all the more, so that just as sin reigned in death, so also grace might reign through righteousness to bring eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord.Romans 5:20-21

We have the law so we can define, by humanly standards, what sin is, and then so we might become aware of our own sin. As C.S. Lewis writes, “… there would be no sense in saying that a footballer had committed a foul unless there was some agreement about the rules of football.” There would be no sense in saying that I had sinned and fallen short of the glory of God unless there was some agreement about the God’s laws.

We sin so that God has an opportunity to fill us with His grace. In a study on the book of James, Beth Moore states, “Every mistake, every sin has made a space for grace. Will it sit there hollow, or will you let God fill it up?” Now, being filled with God’s grace does NOT grant us permission to just keep on sinning. Again, Paul writes to the Romans:

Therefore do not let sin reign in your mortal body so that you obey its evil desires. Do not offer any part of yourself to sin as an instrument of wickedness, but rather offer yourselves to God as those who have been brought from death to life… For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace.
Romans 6:11-14

We have sin so God can fill us with his grace. We have grace so we can be free from sin and offer ourselves to God as instruments of righteousness. How beautiful is that? God is so cool.

And then we’re called to share that grace with others.

Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?” Jesus answered, “I tell you, not seven times, but seventy times seven times.”Matthew 18:21-22

Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God’s grace in its various forms.
1 Peter 4:10

On Sunday, our pastor shared, “God gives grace to fulfill His purpose for us, in us, and through us.”

These girls will fall short. They will disappoint me. They will test my patience and understanding. They will baffle and annoy me. But every one of those moments is an opportunity to practice grace. It is an opportunity to show Christ’s love on a whole new level. It is not something I can do on my own, with my own selfish, worldly desires.

Father, grant me grace for my own sins, as well as opportunities to share Your grace with others.

Power of Testimony

About a year ago, I wrote a blog post in Swaziland titled Generation of World Changers, in which I reflected on the brokenness and vulnerability in my teammates and myself, and how our lives can be reflected in Paul’s words from 1 Corinthians 9:19-23.

Today, back in Swaziland and surrounded by a whole new level of brokenness, I’d like to take this a bit further and share what God has been teaching me about the power of testimony.

Even at 22 short years on this glorious earth, I’ve had some bumps and bruises along the way. I’ve stumbled and fallen so far from God I never believed I would recover. I would suppress my anguish until it would manifest in the unhealthiest of ways. It wasn’t until I finally couldn’t take it anymore, until I felt I was going to implode, until I recognized my path of self-destructiveness, that I shared my suffering with someone else, and then began to experience relief.

Healing – emotional, spiritual, physical – begins with sharing, with opening up about what’s going on inside. Of course, ultimate healing comes from sharing your pain with God. But in an age where we need immediate, tangible feedback, it’s seemingly easier to share with people than with God, at least at first. With that, he provides people in our lives to share our burdens with, whether it’s a trusted friend, family member, or counselor. There is value in sharing your pain with others, and I will explore that in depth in a moment, but first, let’s look at what it means to share burdens with God.

Two years ago, in a moment of total despair, a friend shared with me this verse:

Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Matthew 11:28

These, of course, are Jesus’ words in the first gospel of the New Testament. Notice that the first word he says is, come. Come to me. The first step is a willing choice to go to Christ with your burdens. After that, he says, all you who are weary and burdened.  He specifies all of you - not some of you who are weary, or only a few of you who are burdened. He says, all of you. Once we make the willing choice to go to him in our suffering, he will give us rest. Healing. Relief. Eventually, that peace turns to joy. And this forms our testimony of grace.

Side note: being vulnerable and bringing burdens to God also includes sharing your anger at our Father. Not all David’s Psalms were of joy and praise (e.g., Psalm 22). God answers those cries, as well.

After I reached the point of healing, both from sharing my burdens with others and with God, I began to learn the value of my story – my testimony. In the book of Acts, the apostle Paul also learned this lesson.

Paul began his story as Saul, who persecuted the early church. He approved the execution of Stephen, who is now called the first martyr for Christ. He “breathed murderous threats against the Lord’s disciples” (Acts 9:1), until one day Jesus revealed himself to Saul as a flash of light that blinded the poor man. Long story short, Saul met some of the disciples and his sight was restored. God renamed him Paul, and he spent the rest of his life spreading God’s Word.

In Acts 22, Paul was arrested in Jerusalem for teaching against the Jewish practices and for allegedly bringing Greeks into the temple. While he was in prison, Paul was allowed to speak to a great crowd of people, with whom he shared his story.

I am a Jew, born in Tarsus of Cilicia, but brought up in this city. I studied under Gamaliel and was thoroughly trained in the law of our ancestors. I was just as zealous for God as any of you are today. I persecuted the followers of this Way to their death, arresting both men and women and throwing them into prison, as the high priest and all the Council can themselves testify. I even obtained letters from them to their associates in Damascus, and went there to bring these people as prisoners to Jerusalem to be punished. Acts 22:3-5

To start his speech, Paul provides a brief history of where he grew up and his schooling. He confirms his faith background by saying, I was just as zealous for God as any of you are today. He recognizes their love for God and relates to it. After those three initial statements, Paul blatantly admits to persecuting Jews, killing both men and women for their faith and practices. He hides nothing. He doesn’t give gory details, but he doesn’t hold back on his honesty. From there, he continues to recount how Jesus revealed himself to him, which led him to teach the gospel everywhere he went.

How did the crowd respond to this story? Did they fall on their knees and call Jesus their Lord? Sadly, no. They demanded he be executed, and the prison commander took Paul to be flogged. And this is just one chapter of Paul’s persecution and suffering for the sake of the gospel.

Later, in a letter to the church in Corinth, Paul addressed his testimony and his role among the apostles:

For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace to me was not without effect. No, I worked harder than all of them – yet not I, but the grace of God that was with me. Whether, then, it is I or they, this is what we preach, and this is what you believed.” 1 Corinthians 15:9-11

Paul’s story is not a pretty one, especially before accepted Christ as his Savior. But by the grace of God I am what I am… It was God’s grace that made Paul the apostle he became, the apostle who wrote a majority of the New Testament, and whose words are studied and shared thousands of years later.

In the specific incident in Acts 22, Paul was arrested in Jerusalem by the Israelites – God’s own people. Sometimes, it will be our own family or friends who disown us for our story. Paul and the other disciples were scoffed and persecuted in city after city during their travels. They were arrested and stoned and beaten numerous times. But they always persevered, and God rescued them from every situation. And their work bore fruit:

As they traveled from town to town, they delivered the decisions reached by the apostles and elders in Jerusalem for the people to obey. So the churches were strengthened in the faith and few daily in numbers. Acts 16:4-5

A testimony can be defined as “a public recounting of a religious conversion or experience” (New Oxford American Dictionary). This is the form of testimony Paul shared in Jerusalem and several other places. My personal favorite definition, however, is, “evidence or proof provided by the existence or appearance of something.” My testimony is evidence of God’s existence, grace, and love.

Once I shared my weary and burdened soul with Christ, my story became God’s story. It became a story not of my own life, but of God’s grace in my life.