Sympathizing with Eliza

There’s a moment at the end of My Fair Lady when Eliza Doolittle (the always lovely Audrey Hepburn) returns home from the night of a lifetime, still dressed in a gorgeous evening gown and decked with diamonds from head to foot, when she throws herself to the floor and sobs into the arm of a chair, “But what’s to become of me?  What’s to become of me?”  And Henry Higgins, the linguistics expert who has transformed Eliza over several months from a “guttersnipe” flower girl with rough manners and a terrible cockney accent, into a well-spoken, well-mannered, and beautiful young woman – who that very night, everyone mistakes for a princess – stands, incredulous, over the weeping girl.  Eliza is grief-stricken, frightened, confused, and even angry.  She doesn’t seem to know what to do with herself.

I think today I understand Eliza.  She’s coming down from an incredible experience in which she’s been entirely transformed.  One day she was plucked out from the gutter, the next she was waltzing with Statesmen and princes at a ball.  Of course she no longer speaks or behaves the same way as she used to, but the transformation has gone much deeper than that.  She no longer thinks the same way, nor does she view her own value in the same regard as she once did.  Higgins has completely changed her worldview, and exposed her to an entirely new life.  And now that the experiment is over, the bet has been won… Eliza succumbs to the realization that her life can no longer be the same and fears for her future. 

Like Eliza, I find myself transformed.  It is the end of a three-year season of my life and it seems that no area of my life has gone untouched.  Living in Kenya has exposed me to the third world and the people of an impoverished and corrupt nation – the extraordinarily wealthy scaling up the ladder to Western notions of success, whilst ignoring the great need around them.  I’ve begun a teaching career and spent 540 school days learning, adjusting, searching, and growing.  I’ve lived with six different women and learned much about living in community and the joys and sorrows of relationship.  I’ve worked under three completely different administration teams and seen co-workers come and go, student bodies change, seniors graduate, and this school become something completely different with each new year.  Most importantly, I’ve discovered more than I ever thought I could about my relationship with the Lord.

And I find myself on this day myself wondering, “What’s to become of me?”  I am walking away from a place that has utterly changed my mind and heart, and I’m walking into an uncertain future.  A door I had thought was open to me has now closed, and I find myself even more grief-stricken and perplexed.  God, what can you be doing here?  What reason do you have for taking me away from this place?  What reason can you have for keeping me so blind?  What do you have for me?  What would you have me do next?  I’m willing, Lord – so what’s to become of me? 

I’ve been reminded in the past week of other times in my life when I had made plans.  They were good plans – honorable and sincere.  Things like wanting to teach in an urban district, or applying to work for the Department of Defense Schools.  Different things I’d study.  Different areas where I could serve.  Relationships I thought were important.  Invariably, it seems that God, looking over the plans I’ve meticulously crafted, opts instead to stamp them “Denied.”  These were things I’d meant to do for Him, ideas I’d thought up trying to best use the gifts and talents and resources He’s given me.  Why was he giving me a “no” instead of the “yes” I expected?

In a few of these instances, hindsight has helped to illuminate the reasons why not.  The very fact that He led me to West Nairobi School here in Kenya was one of those instances.  I’d had a good little plan laid out, and He instead mapped this one out for me.  But in other cases, I still don’t have the answers I hoped for.  God said “no” without explaining why.  He has the right to do so – after all, He’s God.  But somehow that doesn’t make it easier to trust Him, even when I know full well that He is faithful, sovereign, and good.  And I’ll admit that I feel a little silly every time I realize that I’m calling out, “What’s to become of me?”  When “me” is never who it’s supposed to be about. 

I am entering a season now of waiting – waiting on the Lord to reveal His next steps for me.  I have hopes for what this future might be, but I think I’ve learned the folly of making plans.  I think God much prefers to keep us in the dark, walking by faith and not by sight.  And no matter how challenging it may be or reckless it may seem, it’s time now for me to trust that He has a far better plan than I could ever dream up for myself. 

So what's to become of me?  Heck if I know.  But it's time to trust Him.

the profundity of james

It has been quite some time since I last posted here.  For those of you faithful ones who check in here from time to time to read up on my life and ministry here in Nairobi and who are committed to praying for here, I'd like to explain why.

I love to write.  I really do.  But I've found in my process as a writer that when sharing something publicly in a forum such as this, that I have a certain set of criteria that needs to be met before I share something.  One: I never write in frustration or anger.  That's for emails to my mom, who in her unending patience puts up with my occasional venting.  Two: I don't write when I'm directly in the middle of a challenging experience.  "Directly" is the key word here.  We are all constantly in the middle of trials, aren't we?  But for me, I try to wait until I've listened for a bit to the Lord and I feel like He's given me some perspective on what He's walking me through.  And three: I don't write when I don't have anything to say.  

I haven't been angry and I've certainly been listening to lessons from the Lord.  And it's not that I don't have anything to say.  I'm just still processing.  But it's in the works.  This has actually been a power-packed season in my life of experiences and messes and lessons, and I'm anxious to find a quiet moment in my life (can you say contradiction?) to write it all out. Until then, let me share with you words from a far better writer than I.

It was my turn to lead staff devotions this past Tuesday.  Feeling the pressure of speaking during a very difficult time for our school, I decided it was best to just get into the Word and allow that to speak to my colleagues for itself.  I've been in James lately, and I've been in awe of how holistic this book it.  James doesn't mess around.  This is hard-hitting truth, and completely applicable for every Believer in every season of life.  So I condensed the entire book into a one-page handout for our staff.  If you have the time, read it.  Meditate on it.  Soak it in.  Let the Lord to speak to you as He has to me.  And if you're wanting to know how to pray for me and for this school and community, here you go:

James wrote to Jewish Christians who had been scattered throughout the Mediterranean world because of persecution.  In their hostile surroundings, they were tempted to let intellectual agreement pass for true faith.  This letter can have rich meaning for us as we are reminded that genuine faith transforms lives.  We are encouraged to put our faith into action.  It is easy to say we have faith, but true faith will produce loving actions towards others.

James 1 ² Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of many kinds, ³ because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. ⁴ Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything. ⁵ If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given to you. ⁶ But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind. 

¹² Blessed is the one who perseveres under trial because, having stood the test, that person will receive the crown of life that the Lord has promised to those who love him.

¹⁶ Don’t be deceived, my dear brothers and sisters. ¹⁷Every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows. ¹⁸ He chose to give us birth through the word of truth, that we might be a kind of firstfruits of all he created.

¹⁹ My dear brothers and sisters, take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak and slow to become angry

²² Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says. ²³ Anyone who listens to the word but does not do what it says is like someone who looks at his face in a mirror ²⁴ and, after looking at himself, goes away and immediately forgets what he looks like. ²⁵ But whoever looks intently into the perfect law that gives freedom, and continues in it—not forgetting what they have heard, but doing it—they will be blessed in what they do.  ²⁶ Those who consider themselves religious and yet do not keep a tight rein on their tongues deceive themselves, and their religion is worthless.

James 2 ¹² Speak and act as those who are going to be judged by the law that gives freedom, ¹³ because judgment without mercy will be shown to anyone who has not been merciful. Mercy triumphs over judgment.

²⁶ As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead.

James 3 ¹ Not many of you should become teachers, my fellow believers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly. ² We all stumble in many ways. Anyone who is never at fault in what they say is perfect, able to keep their whole body in check.

⁵Likewise, the tongue is a small part of the body, but it makes great boasts. Consider what a great forest is set on fire by a small spark. ⁶ The tongue also is a fire, a world of evil among the parts of the body. It corrupts the whole body, sets the whole course of one’s life on fire, and is itself set on fire by hell.

¹³ Who is wise and understanding among you? Let them show it by their good life, by deeds done in the humility that comes from wisdom. ¹⁴ But if you harbor bitter envy and selfish ambition in your hearts, do not boast about it or deny the truth.

¹⁷ But the wisdom that comes from heaven is first of all pure; then peace-loving, considerate, submissive, full of mercy and good fruit, impartial and sincere. ¹⁸Peacemakers who sow in peace reap a harvest of righteousness.

James 4 ¹ What causes fights and quarrels among you? Don’t they come from your desires that battle within you? ²You desire but do not have, so you kill. You covet but you cannot get what you want, so you quarrel and fight. You do not have because you do not ask God. ³When you ask, you do not receive, because you ask with wrong motives, that you may spend what you get on your pleasures.

⁷ Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. ⁸ Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. ⁹ Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. ¹⁰ Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.

James 5 ⁷ Be patient, then, brothers and sisters, until the Lord’s coming. See how the farmer waits for the land to yield its valuable crop, patiently waiting for the autumn and spring rains. ⁸ You too, be patient and stand firm, because the Lord’s coming is near.

¹¹ As you know, we count as blessed those who have persevered. You have heard of Job’s perseverance and have seen what the Lord finally brought about. The Lord is full of compassion and mercy.

¹³ Is anyone among you in trouble? Let them pray. Is anyone happy? Let them sing songs of praise. ¹⁴ Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. ¹⁵ And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. ¹⁶Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.

Darkness : Light

I’m a little skittish in the dark.  When I’m falling asleep at night, I like the peacefulness of the pitch black that floods the room, but beyond that, I find little comfort in darkness.  I don’t even like being alone in my own house in the dark.  Frequent power outages in Kenya have helped to lift this anxiety, and this thing with the dark has never really been a fear, per say, but it’s safe to say I prefer the light.

I’m actually writing this in the dark right now, as our power has gone out unexpectedly once again.  It’s been a bad week for power in Kenya.  Also a bad week for student PowerPoint and website project deadlines and leftovers in the fridge. 

I remember crying uncontrollably one night during our sixth grade trip to Camp Joy after our simulated experience of the Underground Railroad when I was separated from the group on the hike back to our cabins and couldn’t find my way back in the dark.  I think I was “lost” for a good 90 seconds before I figured out where I was, but it still roughed me up pretty badly.  Inconsolable.  And then I remember the recurring fear of encountering Dr. Seuss’s Grinch in dark spaces in my house when I was growing up.  I think the pleasant ending to that classic Christmas TV program was lost on me at that age… because when I was freaked out in the dark, it was always the Grinch that was grinning creepily back at me.

I think anyone who is afraid or simply uncomfortable in the dark will find that it’s the aspect of the unknown that’s what makes your skin crawl.  If darkness is the absence of light, and it’s by the light that we are able to see clearly… then darkness means not being able to see what’s there.  Pretty basic, I know.  Turn out the lights in a room and nothing else changes – you just can’t see things properly.  You’re able to imagine things that aren’t there or worry about completely inane possibilities because you can’t see things for what they truly are. 

The symbolism of light and darkness shows up everywhere – in literature and art, philosophy, and religion.  Light is symbolic of Truth.  Of goodness and joy.  Light comforts, illuminates, and reveals.  It’s optimistic.  Light is pure and moral and right.  Darkness, on the other hand, while not necessarily “evil,” is indicative of trouble and bad things to come.  In darkness, terrible things happen.  Darkness brings bad judgment, ignorance, and misfortune.  It’s associated with captivity, death, and destruction.  In darkness, there is chaos.  Darkness shrouds the truth.

It’s no wonder that there are so many references to light and darkness in scripture.  In the constant battle between truth and deception, right and wrong, good and evil – the recurring motifs of light and darkness are perfect images.  And I’m sure that we’ve all experienced periods of spiritual “light” and “darkness” in our lives as well.  I love that we have a God who uses pictures with which we can identify to reveal His wisdom and truth to us.  He’s so clever.

I’m in one of those seasons right now.  In the dark.  It’s not a period of destruction, fear, despair, or even chaos.  I’m just not able to see what’s in front of me.  And as much as I’m hoping to learn to trust that things won’t be so scary once the lights turn back on, it’s still an unnerving place to be for the time being.

I’ve mentioned that I applied for a graduate fellowship in Maryland back in November.  I understood when I began the process that it could take months to hear whether I’d made one of the twelve slots, and it was far from a sure thing.  But I hated to put the school in a bad spot, and so I prayed over it and felt confident that it would be the right thing to inform our current and incoming directors about my situation.  Both agreed that they wanted to begin the hiring process to set out to find a replacement for me, should things lead me away from WNS and Kenya. 

Living in a transient community like Nairobi has been a completely new experience for me.  Growing up, I worked my way up from Kindergarten to graduation without moving to a new district.  I only had one close friend move away in thirteen years.  Hilliard was a big place, and some friends got lost in the vastness of it all, but I never really had to say any goodbyes.  Miami brought more of the same.  Freshman year through senior year, I had one close friend and sorority sister transfer in my four years.  Friends graduated and moved on to other things, but that was natural. 

Natural.  That’s the right word.  There was something very natural about the way I spent the first twenty-one years of my life.  Life naturally progressed from one thing to the next.  Things rarely, if ever, changed.  Life was predictable.  Full of happy, predictable lighting.  Very little darkness at all. 

Then I moved to Kenya.  At the end of my first year, several co-workers and close friends left WNS, along with a handful of students I’d grown to care about.  At the end of last year, I’d mourned the loss of a co-worker and grieved saying goodbye to his wife, then I said goodbye to my housemate and friend of two years, along with three other close friends from school and several more from church.  At the end of this year, my roommate, my discipler, and a great number of other people I’ve grown close to these last several years will say goodbye to Nairobi.  It’s different.  It’s strange.  It’s hard.

And I’ve realized along the way that this is the first point in my life where I’m going to have to personally elect to leave people and places and experiences and ministries behind.  There’s no longer a natural time to move on.  No matter when or how I leave, it’s going to hurt.  Tremendously. 

So here I am at the beginning of March.  There are ten weeks left of the semester, and then my third year of teaching will come to a close.  I still have no idea what next year will hold for me, and just now, as I went to check the NICS career opportunities page, I saw that “High School English” has been removed from the vacant positions at WNS. 

Somewhere out there is a man or a woman whom I’ve never met who has prayerfully accepted a job teaching at a faraway Christian school in Nairobi, Kenya.  Not just any job, though.  My job.  It’s a wonderful, terrible, joyful, completely agonizing little position they’re walking into.  In my time as a resident “jack of all trades,” teaching four levels of high school English, figuring out how to run a yearbook publication staff, and teaching kids everything I know about theatre, I feel I’ve been given a tremendous gift as a young teacher.  I’ve literally done about everything I could possibly do as an “English teacher.” I’ve worked under three different leadership teams and seen the school go through a great deal of change.  I really can’t imagine having packed in a single extra learning experience into these three years. 

And it’s all been, however imperfectly, for the Lord.  An expression of my love for Him and my desire to have Him work in and through my life.  This person is going to have their work cut out for her (I’m assuming it’s a “her,” they almost always are!).  She’s going to have some great moments and some others I’m sure will put her into a premature aging process.  God hand-selected me for this position – I’m sure of that.  And I’m confident He’s done the same for this newcomer. 

Knowing and acknowledging all of that doesn’t make it any easier, though.  I’ve effectively signed away my rights to my life here in Nairobi.  I couldn’t stay even if I decided later on that that’s what a really wanted to do.  The position belongs to someone else now.  It’s her turn.  But looking towards a dark and unknown future as all that I’ve known for the past three years starts to slip away so quickly… I find myself grieving already.  I’m grieving over the lost possibilities.  The opportunities and moments I know I’ll miss now.  I won’t be able to see my junior class graduate (they were freshmen when I was a “freshman” and I’ve seen them grow up in huge ways these past several years).  I won’t get to build into my two disciples who won’t graduate at the end of this year.  I won’t get to continue the work on the things I’ve put my whole body, mind, and soul into these past few years.  I’ll be somewhere else. 

I’m worried I will have missed huge opportunities.  I’m anxious that there will be some poor soul trying to figure things out without help.  I don’t like the idea of stepping away before I’ve truly finished.  I’m worried they’ll all forget me.  I’m worried all the dreams and hopes I have for my future won’t pan out quite like I’d planned.  I’m worried I won’t find something like this again and I’ll regret ever leaving in the first place.

These are all incredibly selfish preoccupations and I felt a little silly writing them all down.  But they’re true.  That’s an accurate list of the things going on in my head right now.  This has been my life for three years.  My first “job.”  My first vocational ministry.  The first truly big risk I’ve taken.  The place I’ve grown up.  It’s a lot to let go of all at once. 

And I know you all have been here right alongside me, too.  Praying for me, supporting my ministry financially, sending words of encouragement through comments and emails, and patiently reading all these reflections on my life and ministry here.  I thank you all for partnering and sharing in this with me – through thick and thin.  Good and bad.  Light and darkness.

I would like to ask for your continued prayer as God uses this timely season of “darkness” in my life for His perfect purpose.  I can already see that this time of waiting and listening and waiting and praying and waiting and shrugging when people ask me “What’s next?” in my life… it’s all for His good.  I’m finding peace even in the sadness and loneliness of uncertainty.  I’m finding comfort and hope even in knowing I’m moving away from something truly wonderful in my life.  And I’m confident that He’ll reveal in His own time what it is that He has in store for me next.

See?  There’s a little sliver of that light :)

Isaiah 42:16 - "I will lead the blind by ways they have not known, along unfamiliar paths I will guide them; I will turn the darkness into light before them and make the rough places smooth. These are the things I will do; I will not forsake them." 

"hear" kenya

My junior class is reading Mark Twain's The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.  A relatively simple plot, the real challenge when you pick up Huck Finn is mastering a reading of Twain's dialogue.  His ability to capture specific American dialects is legendary.  And daunting, I've found, for many a high school student.

I've taught this unit three times now in my American Literature class, but this is the first time I thought to have my students try their hands at capturing dialect on paper.  In this international and incredibly diverse environment, I realized that these kids have such incredible ears for language and dialect, but just have maybe never had an opportunity to write this good stuff down.  

So here was the assignment: Like Mark Twain, consider the unique and varied people in your life and model a character after someone you know.  As you write a short story or "chapter" from this character's story, make sure to write in a way that emphasizes their specific dialect and unique way of speaking.  They should be believable people with believable stories.  Draw your reader into their lives.

I'm getting such a huge kick out of these.  Here's just one of the stories I received.  This was written by a Korean 11th grade student who has lived in Mombasa and Nairobi for most of his life.  Read it out loud, and I swear you'll hear Kenya.

Haro, my name is Kamau Njoroge.  I am 9 years old andi I go to St. Peetah’s Primary School in Dagoretti.  I am in crass 3.  Ruby, my teacha, is vere vere bahd yani she does not ret talk andi every day we have sreeping time, but in de middle we want to go to de toiret but then she does not ret us, we always say “Teacha, me am pressed,” andi then she willer ret you.

Yestahday, me andi my friends were praying footi ball andi we came to crass late in de morning.  Teacha was waiting in front of de doah, she called owah names in front of de crass.  “Kamau, Omondi, Otieno, come heeah.”  Andi we always say, “Teacha, what did I do?”  Andi she told Omondi to go outside andi bring a nice stick, andi then Omondi brought it, she asked us how many times we wanted to get beaten andi we always say, “Teacha I willer nevah do it again.  Teacha, have mahsee teacha plrease.”  But owah teacha has no mahsee.  We know it but we just try it, you know.  So me, I always say, “Teacha, me I want to get beaten just once—just once nicely andi freshly.”  Haya!  So now we will hold de boahd, but then this is not owah fahst time getting beaten, to we have already put some papah in owah buttocks.  

Me, I catch a ma three going home—I just rive vere crose so it’s onry ten bob.  You see, when I go home I go outside andi pray footi ball with this absorutely nice ball me andi my friends made with paypah bags that wah on de street andi then I go inside de house when de sahn goes down. 

At home I have one small brothah called Kinanjui.  He is vere stubborn vere yani you cannot rie about that you know, he always goes andi tells Mummy, “Mummy, you know… you know… Kamau has eaten de shoogah you saved foah de visitahs you wah going to have on Sato.”  He is a pure mshamba.  Pure.  Last time he was arguing with me about if you brush yoah teeth aftah you have eaten oah befoah you have eaten, andi then he went andi told Daddy, “Daddy, Kamau has badi mannas.  Can you believe that he brushes his teeth aftah he has eaten instead of brushing befoah has eaten sindio?”  Even that one Daddy cannot agree, but that day, Daddy just funggaed his mdomo andi din’t say anything.

Now when we sreep, theyah ah vere many mosquitoes, so we put sahm Doom.  In Omondi’s house, they don’t have Doom.  Us, in owah house we have Doom.  Daddy will always put Doom because he does not want us to get malaria.  Heeah, malaria is so common that people will go to de doctor andi say that they have malaria on their regs.  How foorish ah they?  Us Kenyans, we have so much potential but we don’t use it. 

Ah, now me, I have reft these guys.

confessions in unfamiliar territory

I have a confession to make. 

It isn’t something I’m proud of.  And I may even regret sharing this, as I realize it may cause others to misunderstand, worry about, or even be ashamed of me.

Nevertheless, it’s something I feel compelled to share, because my acknowledgement of this problem in my life seems to finally be changing me.  So here goes.

When it comes to truly loving others, I am a complete fool and a veritable failure.  I do not say this to gain your sympathy or encouraging word, to have you tell me that I am a good friend or to recall an event in which you felt loved because of me.  Please don’t misunderstand me.  I’m not saying this out of misplaced guilt or regret or despair, but out of a compulsion I feel to speak this truth.  I don’t know how to love.  I do a terrible job at it. I don’t know that I even fully understand “love.” 

For the past six months, I’ve been here in Nairobi – a familiar place filled with the joys and challenges I’ve learned to expect.  Joys: teaching a lovely bunch of bright, enthusiastic young people; sharing God’s Word through my everyday interactions with literature and the Arts; learning something new every day; sharing my life with others; travel; wildlife; sunshine; fresh coffee; finding myself.  Challenges: a burdensome set of responsibilities and expectations; cultural strife; power outages and slow internet; difficult students; the reality that there’s just never enough time; and tension in relationships.  Most of these are things I’ve faced before.  Nothing new.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

But it’s the “tension in relationships” that has been a common thread throughout not only my time as a missionary teacher in Kenya, but throughout my life as a whole.  Communication struggles.  Unmet expectations.  Distance.  A lack of depth and intimacy. Feeling I’m not worthwhile.  Feeling there’s something terribly wrong with me. 

For years, I’ve been punishing myself for some felt failure and sensed inadequacy.  I need to change.  People don’t want this person.  They want something else.  All I need to do is become that person.  And somehow, even in these seasons of self-abuse, I made room to blame everyone else for this same failure.  They need to change.  Perhaps I don’t want them.  I’ve done nothing wrong – it’s their problem.  Screw this.  Schizophrenic at best, pathological at worst.  I’ve even found myself defining who I am by these broken relationships.  I was the first grade outcast.  The homebody.  The pathetically shy middle schooler.  The “prude,” misunderstood, and abused high school student.  The forgotten and unappreciated, albeit “nice” collegiate.  What pride.  What disdain.  What ugliness there has been in this.

What had happened in my heart?  How had it become so fractured and still so calloused?  I looked around and saw brokenness, felt brokenness, tasted brokenness.  And all the while, I’m worrying about them, and I’m worrying about me. 

To be honest, it only occurred to me in a very vague and detached sense to consider Christ as having any role in all of this.  I knew He loved me.  I knew I trusted Him.  I knew He’d saved me.  I knew He wanted relationship with me.  I knew He wanted me to love Him back.  But I looked at the relationships in my life – both whole as well as severed – and only desired to be affirmed by those relationships.  Bottom line: Christ wasn’t enough for me.  And all that knowledge didn’t change the reality of this problem in my heart.

This school year began the same way as most years.  I had high hopes that this year would be different.  I was refreshed from a summer away from the challenges in my life.  I felt filled.  I felt spiritual.  I felt ready to make the necessary changes in my approach to relationships to ensure that nothing could possibly go wrong. 

You can imagine my disappointment when nothing changed.  In fact, things seemed to get worse.  The same problems arose in my relationships with the people I lived with, worked with, and served alongside.  And the problems I’d faced in the past seemed to be amplified by these new relationships.  How did this happen?  I anguished. 

So I worked on letting go.  I did my best to assess my relationships and acknowledge and take responsibility for the aspects of brokenness that I had contributed to those relationships.  I sought forgiveness, and then I tried not to hurt so much.  It was a good enough plan.  Fix what you can, if it changes things, great, if not, not my fault anymore. 

Then January struck hard.  Mid-way through the school year, my plan didn’t seem to be working any longer.  I found myself constantly disappointed, consistently frustrated, and even angry and bitter about my lot.  I reasoned that, well, with so many broken relationships in my life here in Nairobi (and some of the best ones about to close with these individuals' coming departure in June), perhaps this is God giving me the green light to move on.  Closure.  Nothing to grieve, because nothing’s lost.  Just moving on.  It didn’t seem right to me that a community filled with Christians could be this messed up and bruised.  Weren’t we all called here for the same purpose?  Wasn’t our being here supposed to be about serving Christ, and nothing else? 

Oh, no. 

It’s been in this season, at this point in my life, nearly twenty-five years into this journey, that I’ve finally realized that even though I knew all of these things about community and relationships and purpose and calling and love… I have not sincerely believed them.   If I had, things would be different.  Not necessarily in my circumstances.  But certainly in my attitude and heart. 

My heart breaks at the knowledge that my life has been that of a foolish harlot, chasing and lusting after what cannot possibly satisfy.  Why would I ever seek the approval and love of man over that of a Holy God? 

I have spent years desperately running around seeking love, affirmation, and relationship.  I’ve grieved lost opportunities and battled against "difficult" people.  I sought my meaning and value in racking up quantity- and quality-based personal relational statistics.  I have exerted so much energy in this futile search.  When all along, it’s never had anything to do with what I was able to get out of those relationships with others.  It’s never been about finding my worth in them.  My entire life, I’ve missed opportunities to bless and honor the God who knows and loves and saved me through loving others.  Unconditionally.  Without expectation.  Because it’s only an expression of my heart wanting more of His. 

I’m not naïve in thinking that this revelation has instantly healed my heart and changed me completely.  This is going to take work.  Reckless abandon.  Abandoning everything I thought I knew and once cared about.  Abandoning the notion that anything is ever only about me.  Abandoning who I once was.  This is a radical, dangerous, and truly reckless idea.  But I sincerely believe that if it’s only for the Lord that I should seek to love others, then it’s only through His guidance and sustaining might that I can have any chance of success. 

I think it’ll be worth it.

I wish that I could personally meet with each of you loved and dear ones that I have failed in loving, and seek your forgiveness and work to restore what was lost or broken.  I hope you all know that while I’m still learning what love really is, and what its value and purpose are and what transformative power it holds… it’s my sincerest desire to know this Love and learn to offer it whole-heartedly, without restraint, and unconditionally. 

Please continue to pray for me as I live my life here that I might truly love my students, my co-workers, my roommates, my neighbors, the people in this city and nation, and my treasured family and friends back home in a way that seeks only to honor my heavenly Father.  And that through that outpouring, I might bless Him and bless them as well.  I'll pray the same for you...


Added February 4, after realizing that Oswald Chambers might say it even better when he examines the life of Paul:
When we are born again by the Spirit of God, our testimony is based solely on what God has done for us, and rightly so. But that will change and be removed forever once you “receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you . . .” (Acts 1:8). Only then will you begin to realize what Jesus meant when He went on to say, “. . . you shall be witnesses to Me . . . .” Not witnesses to what Jesus can do— that is basic and understood— but “witnesses to Me . . . .” We will accept everything that happens as if it were happening to Him, whether we receive praise or blame, persecution or reward. No one is able to take this stand for Jesus Christ who is not totally compelled by the majesty of His power. It is the only thing that matters, and yet it is strange that it’s the last thing we as Christian workers realize. Paul said that he was gripped by the love of God and that is why he acted as he did. People could perceive him as mad or sane-he did not care. There was only one thing he lived for— to persuade people of the coming judgment of God and to tell them of “the love of Christ.” This total surrender to “the love of Christ” is the only thing that will bear fruit in your life. And it will always leave the mark of God’s holiness and His power, never drawing attention to your personal holiness.

my life in pictures

Happy New Year, everyone! 

I think it's funny how when the New Year finally arrives, teachers have a hard time acknowledging the fact (except in writing new dates on the board, passes, handouts, etc.) because, well, we're only half way through "the year." So when we say "last year," we don't mean 2010, we mean last school year and when we're talking about this year, we may or may not mean 2011. Confusing. 

To kick off the year and/or celebrate the middle of "the year," I posted a few albums of some recent happenings here in Kenya on Facebook. You're welcome to check them out by following the links below:

Naivasha, Day 1: My roommate and I travelled to Lake Naivasha as our Christmas gift to ourselves a few weeks ago. Some good photos of the drive through the Rift Valley into Naivasha, as well as the giraffes that visited our room that afternoon.

Naivasha, Day 2: A few shots from our walk to the Lake. More of gorgeous Kenya, basically.

Naivasha, Day 3: Walking around the lovely grounds of the Sopa Lodge and then moving on to our walking safari on Crescent Island, the location where they filmed Out of Africa.

Shuleni: Swahili for "school," you've seen a few of these, but I posted some of the photos that the kids and I have taken for yearbook so far this year.

Hope these offer a little glimpse of the beautiful place where I live and teach. Thank you all for your continued encouragement, prayer, and generous support - I'm truly blessed!

Kate