Tag: Lessons and Musings Page 13 of 21

Incalculable Joy

On December 3, 2012

By surrendering yourself totally to God’s purposes, He will bring you the most pleasure in this life and the next. Francis Chan

I just turned 36 on Saturday. It was a crazy busy sort of day; it was the Christmas Fair at HOPAC and I was in charge of the carnival games. So I was sorting through the supplies and points and tickets and schedules and coordinating teenagers to run the games and the couple hundred hyper kids who wanted to play them. I was so pre-occupied that I was startled any time anyone wished me a Happy Birthday.

That night we were to go out to my favorite Lebanese restaurant, and then found out that the traffic was horrific on Saturday (like 1-mile-per-hour kind of horrific, which happens every now and then in Dar). So I made my own birthday dinner. Dar es Salaam wins again. I would have been more upset if I wasn’t already used to this kind of thing happening so often.

Yet as I lay in bed that Saturday morning, thinking of all that was ahead of me, I couldn’t help but think that I am one of the most blessed people on this earth.

It’s not an easy life. Constant heat and power outages and crazy, crazy roads and inconveniences. Thursday I spent 5 hours searching stores for basic items for the Christmas Fair that could have been solved in one simple trip to Walmart. Spending Thanksgiving and Christmas away from our families….again. Recently there have been anxious situations going on at HOPAC that have kept me up at night.

There have been many days these last ten years when I have been so ready to be done. Days when I have cried with homesickness or frustration. Times when the criticism we have received has been intense. Times of conflict and exhaustion and guilt.

So why is it, that when I think back on all that has happened these last 10 years, I just feel completely overwhelmed with gratitude and joy?

Maybe because I live in a place where so many have so little.

Maybe because there’s nothing compared to living a life with meaning.

Maybe because the pain and tears and death and beauty and music in this life all make sense with Jesus Christ. Maybe because the hope of heaven is stronger than anything this life can throw at me.

There is an incalculable, faultless, eternal God who loves the frail beings He made with a crazy kind of love. Francis Chan

It’s worth it.

Risking it all, living a life that is not always safe, giving up what I was going to lose anyway….

It is all worth it.

Our greatest fear as individuals and as a church should not be of failure but of succeeding at things in life that don’t really matter. Tim Kizziar

Thoughts on Halloween from Afar

By Amy Medina

On November 3, 2012

In Other

I’ll start by saying that I really don’t like Halloween.

And the main reason for that is because I hate how America in general wants everyone to believe that evil doesn’t really exist. Whether it be supernatural evil or evil in the flesh, for a lot of people, it’s all a big game. And even though I’m sure that deep down, people know that’s not true; well, they certainly like to pretend that it is. Halloween is one of the ways that is manifested.

I believe in witches; I see advertisements for them all over this city I live in. They usually are accompanied by a painting of an overly-large rear end of a woman, since apparently, witches are good at making this sort of thing happen–and for a Tanzanian women, this is highly desired. Albinos are often murdered and their body parts used in animistic rituals. Apparently the blood of a murdered child is the best way to find Tanzanite in the mines.

I don’t find skulls to ever be an appropriate decoration item. I don’t find movies where people get murdered to be funny. Next door to Tanzania is Rwanda, where the skulls of one million people murdered by their neighbors cry out for redemption.

What’s interesting is that the birth of Halloween took place amidst a worldview very much like the current African worldview: steeped in superstition and a belief in evil spirits. And their “celebration” of Halloween was not out of fun, it was out of fear. Today, in America, apparently we laugh at fear. Even though the evil spirits really do exist.

So the fact that Halloween is practically non-existent here has been a bit of a relief to me. My kids don’t ask about it; they don’t miss it; we don’t bring it up.

BUT. We will be in the States next year, and therefore forced to deal with this issue. AND the entire HOPAC staff is reading Total Truth this year, which is all about looking at all aspects of life through a biblical worldview. AND I have this husband of mine who is always forcing me to re-think my long-held assumptions.

Isn’t it possible to participate in Halloween but still have nothing to do with the witchcraft and the celebration of death? Candy and costumes and pumpkins are all good things. In fact, as far as I understand, those in America who identify themselves as pagan (Wiccan) don’t even celebrate Halloween, but Samhain.

I have no problems with Christmas trees, mistletoe, Easter eggs, wedding veils and bouquets, and saying “God bless you” when someone sneezes (though I don’t do that very often…I think it’s dumb)–all traditions which happen to have pagan roots. Therefore, isn’t it possible to “redeem” Halloween traditions in the same way that Christians have “taken back” the other holidays? We don’t throw out Christmas just because of Santa….we just de-emphasize Santa. What great lessons for our kids in evaluating culture.

And last, probably the most compelling reason I will allow my children to trick-or-treat next year is because it’s one of the few days of the entire year when neighborhoods come alive. What a great way to meet neighbors! What a wonderful opportunity to make our house “known” as being friendly and inviting!

Just like it’s okay to go to a bar, just not get drunk. Or visit a Hindu temple, just not worship the idols. The religious leaders condemned Jesus for eating and drinking with prostitutes and “sinners.” He went where the ordinary people went and participated in ordinary life and loved ordinary people, even if it appeared scandalous. So should I.

(Note: I understand that this is an individual choice of conscience for all Christians, and absolutely respect that.)

The God of This City

By Amy Medina

On September 16, 2012

In Other

Today, and the next two days, all of us in our mission who live in Dar es Salaam are getting together to talk about our city, Dar es Salaam.

and dream.

and plan.

We started today. And by the end of Tuesday, we’re going to have a plan for the next six months, 1 year, 3 years, 5 years, 10 years.

It’s pretty cool. We’re just a group of about 30 people; we won’t even all be here in 10 years (hopefully there will be others by then), and we’re working in just four different ministries in this city.

Our city. Is it 3 million, 4 million, 5? Who knows. Everyone has a different guess. I found out today that some believe Dar es Salaam is the third fastest growing city in the world. That’s pretty crazy. No wonder traffic is so bad.

Can 30 people really make a difference in a city that big, that is growing that fast?

Well, not by ourselves, of course. But it can if we network. And connect. And strategize. And get really intentional. And if we really trust that Very Big God of ours who loves this city a whole lot more than we do.

It’s overwhelming. And super exciting.

It makes me wonder though: What would happen if every Christian in America came together in groups of 30 or 60 or 1000 and strategized and made a plan for 6 months, 1 year, 3 years, 10 years about how to reach their cities with the love of Jesus? Or even just their neighborhoods?

Sometimes I think that your average American Christian thinks that somehow us missionaries way over here on the other side of the world are somehow just a whole lot more spiritual or special or have superpowers.

But then I think about my fellow missionary friends that I have had over the years in Dar es Salaam. The mom with the prodigal teenager. The two who had breast cancer. The one who seems to have it all together but once admitted to me her strong insecurities. The one who lives with chronic, debilitating pain. The one who once admitted that her family took a 90% pay cut when they became missionaries. The one (actually many more than one) who has struggled with depression. The one who left behind a mom in the States with mental illness. The one who longs and longs to be married. The one with the daughter with the eating disorder.

And myself, with my own struggle with panic attacks and selfishness and pride and arrogance and self-centeredness and discontentment.

And we get hot and grumpy and sweaty and get tired of our underwear sticking to us and we snap at our children and our husbands and sometimes want to just lock ourselves in the bathroom. Or call KLM and buy a plane ticket.

We are not superhuman. In fact, I think some of the most broken women I have ever met have been missionary women. We just have a Very Big God.

But if we can all get together with our team and make a plan for how God can use us to change this city, how we can work together to make a difference–a real difference, then can’t that happen in any city? With any kind of people? With any amount of brokenness?

Alone

By Amy Medina

On September 6, 2012

In Other

I remember once, years ago, when we were still young and naive and new to missions, we took our youth group to an orphanage at Christmastime. We had all our students bring toothbrushes and socks and toys to our house, and we made up those “Christmas shoe boxes” for the orphans. Our group of about 30 or so youth brought in enough stuff to put together about 150 boxes. We were all so excited. We couldn’t wait to see the orphans’ eyes light up.

It was so long ago that I don’t even remember the name of the orphanage. We eagerly handed out our boxes, waiting for the eyes to light up. But it didn’t happen. The children accepted the boxes, and then sat there. There were no shouts of joy, no excited chatter. In fact, a lot of the children didn’t even open the boxes until we opened them for them. But even then, they were far more interested in the cookies and juice.

We spent some time with the kids that day. We toured the orphanage. The kids slept on bare mattresses, sometimes two to a bed. There were no toys. There was no playground. The ceiling sagged from leaks that had never been fixed.

And then I realized: They had no sense of ownership. We could hand them a box of toys and call it their own, but these kids knew better. They owned nothing. An older and wiser missionary filled me in: As soon as we would leave, the older kids would be grabbing all of the stuff from the little kids to sell at school. Or perhaps the orphanage directors would confiscate the little scented soaps and the brightly colored toothbrushes for themselves. After all, their lives aren’t much better.

If you think Annie had a hard-knock life, you should get to know the life of your average African orphan. Perhaps my description of Forever Angels Baby Home gave you the wrong impression. The orphans that go there? The luckiest in all of Tanzania. But they can only take fifty. Fifty out of millions of orphans in Tanzania. And even then, they can only stay until they are 4 or 5 years old.

Most of the time, my kids are just my kids. I usually forget they are adopted. I almost always forget the life they might have had. And when I really let myself think about it, it sucks the life out of me.

Certain children in our family have issues with bed-wetting. Do you know what happens to the average bed-wetter in Tanzania? Culturally? The child is forced to carry his mattress on his head, parading about while the rest of the children sing a mocking song. Thus, I can only imagine what it’s like for an orphan with this problem. Who would have patiently and kindly helped my children work through this issue? What would have happened to their tender hearts if they had been unceasingly mocked over something they couldn’t control?

My little Josiah thrives on physical affection. He pastes himself to me regularly, throughout the day. He adores being tickled. How would he have been different if there had been no one to hug him? My Gracie has had a number of fears that needed reassuring. What if there had been no one to reassure her? My Lily is a fighter. She is strong-willed, just like me. What would have happened to her if she had ever realized that she didn’t have anything to fight for?

There are something like 20 million orphans in Africa. I can’t possibly wrap my head around that number. Twenty million children who have no one to kiss them goodnight, let them choose their school backpack, check their shoes to see if they are getting too tight. No Daddy to tell the little girls they are beautiful or teach the little boys how to respect women. No Mommy to blow on the skinned knee or make sure they are eating healthy or get up in the middle of the night when they are crying.

“For every orphan turning up in a northern-hemisphere household–winning the spelling bee, winning the cross-country race, joining the Boy Scouts, learning to rollerblade, playing the trumpet or the violin–ten thousand African children remain behind alone.” (There is No Me Without You by Melissa Fay Greene)

In Tanzania, it’s more like one hundred thousand left alone for each one who is adopted, and that’s including adoption by anyone, not just northern-hemisphere households. No one is adopting these children. Very few of those who are willing are allowed to adopt. And those who are are allowed, are not willing.

It’s one thing when they are just faceless children without names, personalities, fears, talents, or shoe sizes. But it hits you completely differently when they are Grace, Josiah, and Lily, and they are asleep in the next room.

Cost

By Amy Medina

On July 17, 2012

In Other

I am a saver. As in, a saver of money.

And since my husband has always happily handed all financial matters in this family over to me, I am the one who has had the pleasure of moving money into our savings account every month.

In the last number of years, it has brought me great joy to see that little savings account grow. And brought me security. Boy, do I sure like security. A lot. Especially since we do not own a house or a car that is less than 12 years old or anything else that could be considered assets.

But yet, feeling secure over our savings account made me feel uneasy. Because I know (like every good Christian) that our security doesn’t come from money. But yet, does not the Bible also say that saving money is a wise thing?

I can remember discussing this with Gil a while ago. When do we know that we have saved enough and can give away the rest? How do we know when or if God wants us to give away some or all of it?

And that made me uneasy too. The giving away of, or somehow losing, all of it. Made me feel decidedly insecure.

But I planted my feet and set my resolve and told God, It’s your money. Tell us if you want us to do something with it.

And then January came, and we found out that we would not be able to adopt in Tanzania again. Yet, we knew we wanted another son. Which left us with one choice: International Adoption. And besides the fact that International Adoption requires sheaves more paperwork and documents and emails than a Tanzanian adoption, there was one other major, major difference:

The Cost.

Which, to be honest, had not really been a big factor in our other adoptions. Of course, we had paid for them in time and gasoline and tears and aching hearts and a certain degree of sanity, but relatively speaking, not a lot of money.

So we knew that by jumping into International Adoption, we would also be looking at a cost that would be about 6-8 times more than our other adoptions. If you didn’t already know, the average International Adoption costs about $30,000. Gulp.

Of course, there is no price you can put on giving a child a family. Or giving a family another child.

I don’t know yet what exactly this adoption will cost us, because we will be applying for grants and scholarships, and maybe, maybe the U.S. adoption tax credit will be renewed (which would amazingly give us and other families a whopping $12,000 to work with).

But what’s incredible to me is how easily I have begun hacking away at that savings account. I do admit that when I am making these large payments, I take one big shuddering breath before I press “Pay Now,” but it really hasn’t been as hard as I thought it would be, giving away all that security.

Because when it’s worth it, it’s worth it. And when it is crystal clear that God wants you to do it, then it’s really not that hard.