Love is Blind

My accent gives me away. People greet me in Afrikaans, and when I attempt to respond, they usually say, "You don't speak Afrikaans? Where are you from?" When I tell them, they invariably say, "Shame. Why did you come here? You know this country is terrible; it used to be so nice. I'm trying to leave myself, maybe to Australia or Canada." They then go on to give me crime statistics, or tell me of a personal experience. And in some ways they're right: if you haven't been carjacked or robbed yourself, then you know someone who has. But here's the bizarre part:

When they tell me all that's wrong with South Africa, it only makes me love this country more. I don't know why, but I really, really love South Africa. I love the land and I love the people. Warts and all. The Russian author, Dostoevsky, said this, "To love a person means to see him as God intends him to be." I wonder if that applies to nations as well? But Dostoevsky isn't God, so here's what the Bible says:

"Do not fret because of evil men or be envious of those who do wrong; for like the grass they will soon wither, like green plants they will soon die away. Trust in the Lord and do good; dwell in the land and enjoy safe pasture... Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him and He will do this: He will make your righteousness shine like the dawn, the justice of your cause like the noonday sun." - Psalm 37:1-3, 5-6

So here's my commentary for today: Whether Obama wins or Hillary wins... whether Jacob Zuma is convicted on corruption charges or whether he becomes President.... Dwell in the land, do good, commit your way to the Lord, and SHINE.

Burning the Idols

Yesterday when I came home from lunch my front door was wide open and the screws removed from the door handle. I drove back up to the security gate to have a guard come check the house and make sure no one was inside. The house was clear and nothing had been taken, but I was a bit nervous last night, as Dan is still in California and I'm here alone with the kids.

Once the kids were in bed, I had a battle with fear. Not panic, just uneasiness. I emailed Dan and a few others to ask for their prayers and then prayed myself. As I was praying, I heard the Lord say to me, "Do you love your safety more than you love Me?" I floundered a bit. "You know, Lord, it's good to be wise, to not be foolish, and as long as I'm alive I can do more work for You", etc. etc. The question was repeated: "Do you love your safety more than you love Me? Is safety your idol?" No more excuses. I stopped and thought for a long time. "No, Lord, I love You more, though.... I am struggling tonight." Then another question: "Do you trust Me enough to sleep in peace tonight?" More thought. Then tears. Then a confession of my lack of trust. "Yes, Lord, I do trust You. Forgive me for loving my life more than I love You, the LORD of my life. Forgive me for not keeping my focus on You. My life is Yours, to do with as you see fit."

Someone once said that the problem with being a living sacrifice is that you can crawl off the altar. So last night I crawled back up and once again gave God control. I slept like a rock last night, and not even the hadida ibis birds who wake me up every morning before the sun rises could shake me. By the grace of God, I have all that I need, at all times, in all situations. (2 Cor. 9:8) And this morning my heart is filled with joy.

South African Sundays

I wish you could have joined me in church today. There is no way to adequately explain South African worship. It is something that truly has to be experienced to get the full effect. But since you're not here, I'll do my best to relate the morning to you:

Picture a church with 2,000 people in the auditorium. White, Black, Asian, Indian, you name it, they're all here, in their traditional dress. Old men, babies, and every age in between. The worship leader looks and sounds like he's from the Wiggles (the Australian children's band). The bass guitarist rocks with his six-string bass. In the congregation is a man who brings his own tambourine every week, and in the back is a man who brings his own trumpet, occasionally blowing it in service when he feels inspired (which, to my American ears, unfortunately sounds like a goat in labor... with triplets). Today we are singing a house favourite:

Lift up your heads, ye gates of brass
You bars of iron, yield
And let the King of Glory pass,
The cross has won the field!

Only in a country in which violent crime has forced people to live behind walls, electric fences, barred windows and metal gates does this song make sense. Next to me is an Indian woman in her sari, and on the other side, a black South African in traditional dress with a colourful head scarf. When the song comes to the chorus, which is "Alleluia" sung four times, the congregations goes wild, jumping up and down. I think I can say on authority that no one jumps higher than Africans! Suddenly, the trumpet blows from behind (and the goat gives birth!). The crowd cheers! On to verse two:

Arise, my warrior Bride,
You armies of God, take the land.....

More jumping, more "goat births", and believe it or not, I'm starting to get teary-eyed. If you come to South Africa expecting the worship to be like it is in America, you will miss the beauty. It is not a performance, it is not polished, it is sometimes not on pitch, but it is sincere, it is precious, and it is a most acceptable offering to a Holy God who deserves our praise no matter what's going on outside the building.

I wish you could have been here this morning. I am sure you would have been blessed.

And the winners of South African Idol are....

Precious, Emma and Lucy! Here they are groovin' to Sean Kingston (notice the wooden spoon microphones!)

In Need of a Hug

Here is the downside of being a missionary, AND YET...... "Praise be to the LORD, to God our Saviour, who daily bears our burdens." - Psalm 68:19

Everyone thinks I'm a superhero,
traipsing off to Africa like a
female version of David Livingstone
but they don't know that
it hurts when Grandpa dies and
there's no one to hug me,
no shoulder to cry on;

I'm alone and
I must tell the kids
only I don't have the heart
because it's Granny and Grandpa Day
at school, so I

drive around aimlessly
through blurred saltwater vision,
not noticing third world
traffic, beat up taxis
edging me off the road...

I pick up smiling children
covered in bits of
popcorn and sticky sweets,
overhear some ladies
planning their weekend and
I want to be invited,
want someone to hug me...

I gaze at unfamiliar stars
in the Southern Hemisphere
and think that Grandpa has
joined the Great Cloud of Witnesses
who cheers me on to
finish the race

but what I want is a hug
because it's hard to be
17,000 kilometers from home
when someone I love
dies
-A.E.

"One Thing I Do Know..."

In 2 Corinthians 6:3-10, Paul tells the Corinthians to.... well maybe you should read it for yourselves, because it's hard to summarize Paul:

"We put no stumbling block in anyone's path, so that our ministry will not be discredited. Rather, as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: in great endurance; in troubles, hardships and distresses; in beatings, imprisonments and riots; in hard work, sleepless nights and hunger; in purity, understanding, patience and kindness; in the Holy Spirit and in sincere love; in truthful speech and in the power of God; with weapons of righteousness in the right hand and in the left; through glory and dishonor, bad report and good report; genuine, yet regarded as imposters; known, yet regarded as unknown; dying, and yet we live on; beaten, and yet not killed; sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; poor, yet making many rich; having nothing, and yet possessing everything."

To commend is to recommend. Paul is essentially saying to follow his example in the above situations. He's covered just about every scenario except birthday parties and root canals! I don't know that I can say, "In kindness, follow my example. In sincere love, follow my example. In hardships and distresses, follow my example." I am forced to stop and think about my behaviour in certain situations.

I am not a philosopher like Paul. I don't always burn with passion for the Lord like Paul. I do not seem to be so single-minded and unwavering as Paul. I am not a "great apostle" like Paul. But I can tell you this, echoing the words of the blind man in John 9:25: "One thing I do know. I was blind, but now I see." And for today, that is enough.

Snack Foods Gone Awry

"Crazy Cheese Aerosol Cheese - American Flavour" (and just what exactly do Americans taste like??)

"Directions: For best results, remove cap (that's always a good idea). Hold applicator tip close to food (apparently this part is very important because it's in bold print). Press nossle (that's how it's spelled) firmly to one side and move slowly across food surface (because if you move it fast you might not get enough American flavour aerosol cheese on whatever it is you're spraying)."

Maybe it's just me, but I do not think the words "aerosol" and "cheese" belong in the same sentence. Still, it made my day. And of course, one can only put aerosol cheese on.... yes, that's right... "Salticrax: Bites of Creativity"