Taken from a journal entry written on 3/17 (beware- real, raw, honest thoughts ahead):
To be honest, it has been difficult to find the motivation to write, but I felt that it was about time. The past month within this organization has been tough and, frankly, disheartening. Leadership from the very top has been inconsistent and dishonest in their direct communications to myself and our squad- even through emails, which anyone who has met an attorney knows you are never supposed to do. I’ve always looked at this group as the vehicle that is taking me on this journey where I feel specifically called to be. So what do you do when the vehicle starts breaking down?
What do you do when the gas tank always says “full”, but it’s really empty? What do you do when you realize that everything promised by the salesmen turns out to be faulty? What do you do when the mechanics from the dealership will assure you that they’ve fixed the engine, only to find out that they just threw an air freshened in to make it smell nice?
To be honest, my first instinct is to get frustrated and ditch the vehicle. To take it to the junkyard and let the Junkers strip it for parts. To call the family professionals to take care of the business that sold it.
However, after much prayer and consideration, that is not my current course of action. Because God is good and uses manure to help grow flowers, here are some personal buds that have sprouted in this poo-storm.
1) I have gone to scripture more than ever before, seeking truth in the pages and learning.
2) I have realized how blessed I am to have the community of people I do back home, with godly leadership and minimal drama.
3) I have sought The Lord with a frustrated and honest heart asking “why did you send me here?” I feel like I’ve understood a couple of things from my seeking (apart from the aforementioned “buds”):
-The journey is not the vehicle and the reason for going is the people met along the journey.
-I’ve been blessed with a healthy community and a strong dose of reality and I am able to encourage my fellow squadmates with both (I have had conversations with multiple people, assuring them that not all churches force a “believe, behave, belong” mentality and that, yes, community is worth it when it is healthy)
– I’ve been able to connect with some incredible people along the journey
-I’ve been blessed with encounter like this one, which was the original intent for this entry…..
“We’re going to prison tomorrow.” My leader made the announcement to our team.” It’s a men’s prison. We’re going into the prison yard to give a message and hang out with the prisoners.”
“What kind of prisoners are they?” I was curious.
“Rapists and small thieves.”
“Great.”
“They said there will be about 400 of them in the yard.”
“Super.”
To be honest, I may be the world’s worst missionary. Upon waking up at 7am to stroll into a prison to share the love of Jesus, I was not very excited. The drive to the entrance was filled with reviews of self defense moves and prayers for protection and grace. Pulling up to the barred property, we saw a man in a red jumpsuit walking by with a large axe over his shoulder. Before my panic reached its peak, our host explained to us that prisoners with good behavior are allowed outside the fence to do yard work.
Things are definitely different in Africa.
Scanning to make sure axe-man was at an I-can-probably-run-and-get-away distance, I got out of the car. Our team, all females, walked up to the front gates of the prison with nothing but our bibles. Seeing that the few prison guards around the property weren’t armed with much more than that (a small stick, resembling a baseball bat you might get as a cereal box prize was all they carried with them) didn’t breed a whole lot of confidence. I began to wonder how hard I would have to throw my bible at someone to make any sort of dent if necessary.
As we walked into the gates, a beautiful sound met my ears. A large group had gathered in the center under a tree, singing and clapping in an incredible and ever-so-African sort of harmony. They were singing a worship song in Setswana, with more passion than I’ve seen in a while.
After the singing commenced, the prisoners sat on buckets and rocks while we sat in chairs surrounding them. It was only slightly awkward, as we were definitely being stared at (white and beige people are a rarity in this area). I began to look around. It looked more like a bare-bones summer camp than a prison. A few barracks, a couple of men playing soccer, some washing clothes, some congregated in a corner laughing. The 20 foot high, barbed wire walls stood 100 feet away.
My teammate stood up to speak. It was an amazing thing watching the eyes of the prisoners. Africans are a very animated people and every emotion shows in their eyes. They were excited by what they were hearing and connecting to the message. She shared about Paul, an apostle and close pal of Jesus, who struggled with sin. She went through the chapters in Romans where Paul pours out his heart over doing the things he does not want to do and laments over being powerless in himself to overcome them. She went on to his rejoicing over God’s overcoming it for him and His love for those He created.
She also spoke about discipline and consequences, something that these men knew much about.
For many, it was the first time they’d heard this message. To see them connect with and relate to scripture was both beautiful and fascinating. Don’t get me wrong, I probably wouldn’t invite most of these men over for tea right away, but there is just something about watching people realize that they are more than what they’ve done.
About five men came forward and decided to follow Christ that day. Whether it was genuine or out of politeness for the American guests, I don’t know. But I know that a seed was planted, nonetheless.
After shaking everyone’s hand during another round of Setswana worship, we headed out of the gates and back into the car.
It’s moments like those that remind me why I’m here. Yes, it’s hot as death, I’m often sick, and I frequently find myself fantasizing about walking around Disneyland again (I’m not above it), but I know these moments are precious.
And so I will stay in this Camp (check out this article by Beth Moore, discussing Camps +click here+) and I will continue on in this vehicle. Please pray for strength, grace, and wisdom. Like, a lot of it.
June is just around the corner!
Love,
