a testimony about Martin

in january, we took in 3 children. (see earlier blog entitled "3 of our kids"). The middle boy, Martin, was very broken in the heart. He would fight with all the kids all the time, constantly pinching and slapping them for no reason, and then he would cry. I always saw him crying, his nose permanently snotty. It's no mystery, considering the pain of abandonment he's endured, that he would act out in this way, just angry at the world. he wouldn't take much, either, and i rarely saw him smile. over the last few months, the Lord has been healing him. Martin now fights much less, if ever, and i often see im engaging in friendly play with the other kids. i don't see him crying as often. he speaks a lot more as well. a few days ago, as i was sitting with children, out of nowhere he says "Is Jesus good?" and then "Is Jesus God?" i was so excited! i shared the Gospel with him, and when my Arabic ran out, i called an elder boy over to help translate. we hugged on him and told him Jesus is so so good and loves him.

God's presence resides at Iris. sure we have issues. there are conflicts, people don't always treat each other lovingly, kids don't always (rarely) play nice. but God IS here. from simply being at Iris, being in a place where Jesus is honored and lifted up, Martin's heart is being healed

how God speaks to our kids

last night, the older kids and i gathered together to worship, like we do every Friday. i have taught them to sing from their hearts to Jesus, not known worship songs, but a love song from their heart, whatever comes out, to sing by the Spirit. we've had some great times with God doing this, where the Spirit has really come. we've had other times that were dry, and i could tell the religious spirit that oppresses this nation was cropping up. but even so, we keep going. last night, i felt the Lord's presence like a weighty cloud sitting on me. it's my most favorite feeling in the world. after we worshiped together for a while, i went around the room and asked the kids what the Lord spoke/showed them. i loved what they shared. Edward (18) saw Jesus holding his heart and embracing him. Kizito (23) felt a spirit of thanksgiving. He was remembering his life before Iris Ministries, before Jesus, and thought about how many children don't have food, clothes, education. He was so thankful that God chose him to receive these things. the Holy Spirit brought to Safari's (20) mind a time when he was tempted by the enemy to drink alcohol. it was a strong temptation and he was struggling to resist it. when he prayed, it went away instantly. this night, God showed him what happened in the spirit in that moment. He saw himself and Satan, and Jesus was standing in between, protecting him. Justin (25) was moved to pray for protection for our compound and our children.

i love that God speaks to our kids. i love that they know Him and know He is real and alive. i pray for increase, for enrapture with Jesus. i want them to be caught up for hours and day. i believe it can happen

no one is ever alone

the book of 1 Peter speaks a lot about suffering. in 1 Peter 5:9, the apostle says to resist the enemy and remain steadfast in the faith, "knowing that the same sufferings are experienced by your brotherhood in the world." being a missionary in Sudan, my tendency is to feel isolated because no one else i know is a missionary in Sudan, so how could anyone understand the challenges, hardships, and pains of daily life and ministry here? i have come to see that this is a lie of the enemy. he makes you believe no one else can relate and thereby traps you in the snare of isolation. in talking to my friends since i've been here, my eyes have been opened. i have seen that even though our lives are completely different, our struggles are surprisingly and uncannily similar. they are just blanketed in a different environment, a different life, a different calling. we all battle loneliness, to some extent, because all of us are strangers in the earth, pilgrims, longing for Home and being unsatisfied until we get there. we all struggle to trust God whole-heartedly, to believe He is who He says He is and His ways with us are completely good. we learn these lessons and experience these struggles in ways specific to our natures and our callings. God is a genius. He fashioned each person so uniquely and placed callings on their lives so specifically, and yet He is forming the same truths in us. we are all so unique but feel the same longings and pains, the same joys. it's because we are headed towards the same goal. we are pressing for the same prize of the same upward call...separately but together. He is forming the same Christ in all of us. there is one God and one Spirit residing in us. we are united by the thread of our common faith, our common Love.

when one suffers, not only is Jesus with him, but the brotherhood of the saints is with him too, for they endure the same things. no one is every alone.

weakness really does mean strength

I had malaria last week...again. Similar kinds of symptoms – high fever, extreme bodily weakness, loss of appetite. But the medicine didn't kick in as fast this time, so I was immobile and couldn't eat food for 2 days. The kids came and prayed for me, the staff brought me juice. The sickness took a lot out of me and I was weak and exhausted after 4 days. When I finally was able to get out of bed, the kids would remark, “Oh Rina, you are so thin...” I was pretty emaciated.

Day 2 of this, as I'm lying motionless, I began to utter a prayer. It was spontaneous, and I knew it was the Lord. I prayed for our children and asked Holy Spirit to fall on them, to break every barrier, every religious wall that stands in the way of encounter. It was a short and lifeless prayer, I barely whispered it.

Day 4 I felt well enough to move about and keep a dinner appointment with a British missionary couple in town. I returned to the compound when evening worship had already ended. One of the girls, Onzima, visited me that night to check on me and reported how amazing worship that night was. The Holy Spirit fell, the whole compound was up singing and dancing. Even one of our watchmen (night security guards) was dancing in the circle, which has never happened before. I immediately thought back to my weak prayer. It was a token of God's response, a confirmation that in my absolute weakest moments (I have never been as physically weak as I was during this malaria bout), He moves through me.

when God's presence is just sweet...

...but first, a bunny trail. i think it's hilarious that i can't log in to paypal, wachovia, and many other websites that i am not yet aware of on the Sudanese connection we get on compound. Sudan comes up as a sanctioned nation. i can't believe i live in a country that is internationally sanctioned online...that is crazy, in a funny way, to me.

ok, back to the road (bye bunnies)! one of the best times on compound is nightly prayers. it was the first thing i experienced when i came, and continues to be one of my favorites. it's something the kids began on their own. one of the older girls, Onzima, felt the Lord call her to do it and it's happened every night ever since. the kids love it. it's not forced or mandatory or official, which is why i think they love it so much. they feel free in it. after dinner, the kids will gather our drums and start playing. eventually more come, form a circle around the drummers, and dance around and around in African fashion. some more time passes, and one of the older girls joins as the worship leader. they're not picked beforehand, it's just whoever comes over whenever. African worship is call and response (how Gospel came about) where the worship leader sings a phrase and the rest respond by singing a new phrase or repeating the leader's words. the songs are very simple, and they often repeat the same sentence for 15 minutes. but they don't get tired of it, it's their style and their sound. so we go around and around for 45 minutes. at some point, we transition from fast songs to slow, and everyone stands still, kneels, and worships the Lord. finally, there's a time for prayer at the end, and all corporately cry out to the Lord.

tonight was beautiful. God's presence was just plain sweet. that's the best way i can describe it. it wasn't overwhelming power, laughter, tears. He was just there and everyone knew it. it was very dark out. i didn't realize the difference the stars and moon make in lighting the world until i came here. tonight there was no moon and the stars were covered by thick clouds. i couldn't see faces, but as i looked around, i could see children worshiping, hands raised to Jesus. the worship and prayer was so sincere, so from the heart. sometimes it's not. the religious spirit will rear its ugly, horrible head from time to time and everything will feel so mechanical. not tonight. the children's hearts were meeting with Jesus. i had my arm around Blessing on one side and Moriba and Asa on another (who would jab at each other a bit trying to win full possession of my one hand). i prayed for God to do among these kids what He did with H.A. Baker's kids in China in the early 1900s. ("Visions Beyond the Veil" is a must-read. it's about 100 pages and will take you an hour). they were beggar street kids who were reluctant to attend weekly chapel, until God came down. they were caught them up in visions of heaven, hell, angels, and the end of the age...for months. they wouldn't eat or sleep for days sometimes; all they wanted was to be with God. they accurately described the events in the Book of Revelation. 10-year olds would preach and prophesy on the streets with a voice that was not their own. i prayed this for our kids. "why not, Lord? these, too, are the poorest of the poor, the cast-asides...Your favorite ones."

i'm gonna believe for it and believe Him to do it. but for now, His presence was just plain sweet.

i'm exhausted, but this is not about that

i am exhausted today. it's mostly because i woke up at 4am to talk to a dear friend on the phone, which is a great reason to be exhausted. it was a wonderful, encouraging, uplifting conversation, and i am so so grateful for her. i love how i can be miles away, with time zones and bad phone connections in between, but when i talk to my friends, it's like we haven't skipped a beat. praise the Lord who is the one who knits us together with His unbreakable thread.

i'm also exhausted because after i finished my morning time with Jesus (which, may i add, was very slack because i kept falling asleep), and was preparing to wash up and get my "to do" list done, one of our boys runs up and says "Alex can't walk. His entire leg is swollen and he's in a ton of pain." i had taken Alex to the clinic a few days ago and he'd been prescribed antibiotics for a small wound below his knee that had gotten badly infected. the antibiotics didn't work, and his leg was huge and there were lumps all over his calf.

this isn't a story about exhaustion, but about how Jesus comes to my rescue. i could not take Alex on the motorbike; he was in too much pain to straddle it. i had never driven our Land Rover before. even though i obviously know how to drive, trying to navigate this stick shift car with terrible breaks and the wheel on the right side on these terrible roads with 2-foot ditches and holes, not to mention people, goats, cattle, and bikes milling around in no apparent orderly fashion everywhere....this is truly a feat to be accomplished. but there was no one else to drive, and he had to be taken right then. i had no choice. i went into the house to grab the keys, stopped, and prayed. "Jesus, help." and He did. we got there and back safe and sound. Alex is gonna be just fine.

here, an incident can happen instantly, and i don't have time to think about how i don't know what to do or can't do it. i have to make a decision right there and then, and i have to act even though i don't have a clue what i'm doing/have never done it before, and trust that God is giving me the wisdom and ability to do it in that moment. today, i had no choice but to jump out of the boat and hope that Jesus would enable me to walk on the water. He did, and it was supernaturally amazing.

life and life more abundantly

this week, i held a dead baby in my arms. it was one of the hardest days of my life. one of our house mamas (the baby's great aunt) had been in the hospital for days with the sick boy. two friends, wendy and jennie, and i were sitting outside on the road having a soda when we saw her on the way to the hospital that day. a few minutes later, we saw her pass again, this time running, screaming, wailing, looking completely crazed. a few feet behind her, the baby was being carried, wrapped up in a blanket. my friends and i stopped them in the street and began praying. after a few minutes, i took the baby, and we drove over to the family's home. a note on culture here...funerals are very dramatic ordeals here. the entire family gathers at the deceased's house and mourns for 5 days straight, 24/7. the Sudanese express grief by throwing themselves on the ground and rolling around, wailing, in the dust. it's very dramatic and emotional. so this is the scene that ensued when i emerged with the dead baby in my arms. it's like people momentarily lose their minds and something else takes over. the atmosphere was heavy, depressing. death is a way of life here. many have seen several people in their families die, and so have lost all strength to believe, to rise up, to overcome, according to what Christ has accomplished and promised. they don't fight it, nor do they think they can, as Christianity here is largely legalistic and full of death itself, influenced by experience and the pride of man. the pastor's exhortation at this funeral was completely unbiblical and one of the most heartbreaking things i've ever heard. he said, "death comes to us all. we eat of the bread of death every day..." wait a minute, i thought Jesus was the bread of life and came to give life abundantly...?

we brought the baby into the house and began praying, fully believing for a resurrection. but the atmosphere was seeped of all faith and hope. there was only despair. my friends and i were the only ones praying. everyone else was either wailing or staring at us. i was becoming so angry with the devil, for how he has stolen life and hope and joy from these people to the point that they accept it. the baby had the most serene look on his face; he was so beautiful.

an amazing thing happened as we prayed. wendy, jennie, and i worshiped and sang in the Spirit softly, and the people gathered became silent and still. this incredible peace and stillness descended upon us. wendy whispered to me, "this never happens at funerals". occasionally, new mourners would enter the room and begin wailing again, but as they remained there, they would also calm down and fall silent. i've never experienced the peace of God so tangibly. wendy had a vision of Jesus scooping the baby boy in His arms. we shared this with the family, as well as the hope we have in Christ. i walked out of the house and moved from person to person, praying for them. there was one woman who kept walking around very restlessly, shaking her hands and muttering something. i don't know if it was curses or she was simply losing it, but i went over to her and embraced her. she immediately calmed down and i felt her breathe easy. i prayed over her in Arabic - "Jesus will give you peace in your heart. The baby is in heaven with Jesus. All will be well."

i really wanted this boy to raise from the dead, but he didn't. the Lord's way is perfect. i was grateful for the supernatural peace God gave, and i hope the family recognized it as such presses in themselves to touch it.