This blog comes directly from my journal entry from yesterday, February 13, 2018.
Hopefully it gives you a little insight into my life here in Rwanda on month 7 of the World Race.
So far, my team has fronted all of the medical expenses for Yohana–the little boy whose shin bone is infected. We would love if you would help out in raising the rest of the funds for his medical bills.
At least 145 of you will be receiving this blog in your inbox; if each of you gave 5 dollars then that would well exceed any foreseen medical costs. Any of the excess money will go toward helping his mother provide food for her family as well as providing them with mattresses and soap and other things we all take for granted every day.
Go to www.gofundme.com/yohanarwanda to donate to Yohana and his mom!
This is us. We are the church; we help those who can’t help themselves. Sometimes that means helping out financially. I just ask that you would prayerfully consider giving to help this boy and his family out in any way you can.
Verse of the Day: “And he arose and came to his father. But while he was still a long way off, his father saw him and felt compassion, and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” —Luke 15:20
What a past few days!!
Well, I gave my testimony at church on Sunday.
After, Tate had me come over to look at a little boy’s leg. What an infection…we prayed for him and his mother at the end of service. His leg had been infected since September because she couldn’t afford insurance and the public clinics will only see patients with health insurance. Her husband ditched her and her two kids and took off for Uganda…I guess the far off country looks too good to resist sometimes.
After service, we got to eat with the wedding party for a couple getting married in March. It was awesome. Goat jerky and rice and French fries!!
Then, we went and bought an outfit for the kid with the leg; all he had was one shirt, one pair of shorts, and a pair of dilapidated flip-flops. He came and stayed with us at Fatier’s house that night.
Early yesterday morning, John, the kid (Yohana), and I headed up to the road and caught a bus for Kigali. Four hours later, we got to the private med clinic in the city. His wound was diagnosed, redressed, x-rayed. Osteomyelitis. Bone infection. Since September. We got him some antibiotics and pain relievers at the pharmacy down the road from the clinic.
Oh, and when I say we, I mean me, John, and LUKE HANNA! He met us at the hospital. Wow did I miss him. I love that man so much. Lifelong friend. No matter how many miles apart we are.
Got back on the bus at 4 pm and got to the village around 8:15. Yohana will be staying with us at Fatier’s for 10 days and will go back to see an orthopedic surgeon to see if any other procedures need to take place.
We just want him to be able to be a kid again.
Tonight, I was to give my talk from LDW to the ministers of the church here at International Healing Center Church. The Spirit had other plans.
I was talking to Janine and Matt and Paige about how I typically have something to say for a five minute blog read but not for a 30 minute talk.
Spirit: “since when does length of time matter?”
Me: “oh, yeah.”
So, I talked on the Prodigal. On the blindness of the older brother; on the foolish selfishness of that ragamuffin prodigal son, and of the scandalous, relentless, unconditional love of the father.
It has been a whirlwind of crazy love these past few days.
Oh—I forgot—me and Fatier went to visit the boy’s mom. Her, her two kids, and her mom live in a room that’s smaller than most of our broom closets. No mattresses. Barely any food. Certainly no schooling.
They’re coming to eat lunch with us at Fatier’s on Saturday afternoon. We are gonna see what we can do about helping support them financially.
So—Abba’s love.
It changes everything. When we allow him to love and accept us just as we are and not as we should be, it sets a consuming fire ablaze in our souls that cannot be tamed. But, that’s only fitting right?
An untamed fire born from the overflowing love of an untamed Lion.
Since I decided to sit down and just let Jesus pour out his unyielding, inexplicable grace on me, life has just had a much brighter tint to it as I see that all is grace.
A three-mile walk to ministry is grace.
The hot Rwandan sun is grace.
Flies in our face all day is grace.
Rice and potatoes and avocado are grace.
Mystery meat is grace.
Afternoon instant coffee is grace.
The smile on Yohana’s face as he watches The Jungle Book for the first time ever in a language he doesn’t speak is grace.
Cramped, sweaty, 4-hour-long bus rides are grace.
Getting to speak of the Father’s love to an African church is grace.
Starry African nights are grace.
Good books are grace.
Bad books are grace.
Coca-cola is grace.
Five other Racers who make me constantly feel at home is grace.
Blue eyes and curly hair dancing in an African field is grace.
Getting to see my parents in five days is grace.
Teary eyes from seeing heartbreaking living conditions for a mom who must accept that her best somehow still isn’t good enough is grace.
The jagged edges left by our dark past in that far off country are grace.
Life is grace.
Love is grace.
All is grace.
See, as a chronic and constantly relapsing sinner, I’m so unworthy of this life I’ve been given. But where sin increased, grace abounded all the more (Romans 5:20).
When we come to realize that it is all just grace—that our devotion and good deeds and church attendance and self-righteous piety will never save us and will never satisfy our souls—only then do we begin to live in the inescapable presence of the Really Real. We get to live our lives in a constant state of overflow from the Eternal Well. We get to love because of the Love that we have been given.
That is freedom. Loving because He first loved us.
That’s a life worth waking up for.
That’s a King worth living for; that’s a King worth dying for.
Thank you, Father. Your grace astounds me. That I am so unworthy and yet you choose to love me and have compassion on me and run to me and embrace me and kiss me brings me to my knees daily. May I never lose the wonder of your great love. May I never forget that all is grace. May I never stop beholding the love you lavish on us, that we might be called children of God. Spirit, continue to let me grow to see understand the grace and mercy of the cross of Christ. May I never lose sight of the truth of the gospel. I am forever yours. Amen.
