Almost three years and counting...

A Song of Ascents.

When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who DREAM.

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them."

The LORD has done great things for us; we are glad.

Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like streams in the Negeb!

Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!

He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.  Psa 126:1-6 

If there is a chapter in the Bible that resonates with my experiences with Ethiopia, it is this one.  Not only because verse 3 was written above the doorway of the first Kale Hiwot church I visited in Ambo, but also because it was the first chapter I heard read in our first church service in the Meseret Kristos Church here in Debre Zeit. 

Then of course there are the practical applications.  Let me break it down.

Verse 1- There are fortunes that once were associated with Ethiopia.  The Queen of Sheba came from Ethiopia to visit King Solomon bearing her truckloads of riches.  I recently found out that some of those riches were discovered in the Northern part of Ethiopia just a few years ago.  The people of Ethiopia have a rich heritage of wealth and prosperity but somewhere along the way, that fortune was displaced.  As a result, the identity has been lost somewhere.  And in that loss, was the loss of their ability to dream.  

When the LORD restored the fortunes of Zion, we were like those who DREAM

We who live or have lived in lands where opportunities and possibilities are endless to the point where we attach the word DREAM to our countries identity and vision more often than not take dreaming for granted. We think that the ability to CREATE, to think outside the box, to IMAGINE and ENVISION then build a pathway (often called a Strategic Plan) to see that Vision become REALITY is all a part of life ...but not so for all. 

Years ago a colleague of mine asked me what is my dream. At that stage I was helping other people put together plans and apply for funding to build their community groups. I said that this was MY dream, to help others realize THEIR dreams. But he challenged me to reengage with the dream that I had potentially buried and filed away in the NULL AND VOID folder of my life. I told him of my crazy dream to some day go to Ethiopia. Once that dream had been revisited and reawakened in my heart by the voicing of it, it didn't take long for me to make it happen to explore whether or not this was a God dream or a me dream. Turns out it was HIS.

But what a responsibility we have as Gods ambassadors to reawaken the dream in those around us. That they would become like those of us who take dreaming for granted. I love now to do the favour that man did for me - to ask "what is YOUR dream?" and then when a blank is drawn, to ask again "what WAS your dream when you were a little girl and all of life's cares weren't overwhelming your ability to dream?" then I hear an answer.. And their normally pretty achievable. But they didn't think it was so...

There is a day coming when the fortunes of Ethiopia will be restored and it will no longer be affiliated with the term FAMINE, but the word FORTUNE.  No longer with the word POVERTY but the word PROSPERITY.  I see the sun rising on that day.  Slowly it is bringing hope and the ability to dream again for it’s people.  No longer will the desire to dream be quashed by their own inability to provide for the dream, but even within their very own capacity and God’s provision and restoration dreams will be so big others will be astonished.  

They will say like verse 2:

Then our mouth was filled with laughter, and our tongue with shouts of joy; then they said among the nations, "The LORD has done great things for them." The LORD has done great things for us; we are glad

I read this last verse among the verses posted on the Ambo Kale Hiwot church on my short term visit in 2009.  It wasn’t a prophetic statement of what they will say when God restores their fortunes but it resembled their gratitude for what God had already done.  I hear this song of thanksgiving here from the ash heap, from the mud huts, from the under-resourced, unfurnished Sunday school class room.  A song of praise to a God who has done great things for His people.  Their mouths are filled with Ellilta praise.  The movement of their tongues which fills their mouth and manifests from a heart that is filled with joy. 

Joy that transcends circumstances.  

Joy that isn’t dependant upon receipt of goods.  

But Joy that comes with the knowing of Who is in control.  

They are believing for the restoration to occur, for the God of the Bible to do what He has done before.  I love to sit in the Wednesday healing services at Tsion Church because the building is filled with people hungry for God to move and answer their prayers.  They gather in droves and agree in harmonious unity to the preaching of Life that is typical in such meetings.  Here I have filled my “Amharic words” folder on my phone with phrases that have required repeating from the audience.  Phrases like:

I will not stop!

I will pass over!

I will speak!

I am not afraid!

Restore our fortunes, O LORD, like streams in the Negeb!

I hear the tear filled prayers here.  Prayers said face down in the rocks to a God who may take up the cause of the humble servant.  Simultaneously I hear the SHOUTS OF JOY when prayers are answered.  Shouts unrestrained, unashamed, unaware of people around or cultural norms, but FULLY aware of the God who answered their prayers.  HALLELUJAHs that startle the crowd as right in the pew, God answers a prayer.  People being healed, people having revelations of God’s goodness in their situation, people shouting out to a God who has delivered them of demonic forces.  People who are about to reap their harvest. 

Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!

He who goes out weeping, bearing the seed for sowing, shall come home with shouts of joy, bringing his sheaves with him.

As we head into the end of our third year here, I am thankful for the God who gives the desire to DREAM and for the dreams HE has even enabled US to dream again and see come to reality.  I thank HIM for the opportunity He has given us to be able to serve in such a special country that perhaps HE placed in our Hearts because of His heart for this country.  What a privilege it is to be an ambassador of that heart.  Thanks for all those who pray for us.  

I've been wanting to write this story for SO long...

It’s a story of heart break and betrayal.  A story that bears the scars of an inner wound that stings as if it were freshly made, yet it had sunken so deep; buried under piles of rubble and debris of years gone past.  Rubble now named contempt, shame, dishonesty and denial. 

Who knew that a work to heal a broken heart would take so much longer than a year?  And that the revelation of the damage that was done would be discovered amidst the motion of writing…and then sharing with strangers as if dividing it apart to distribute and expose the secretly written to an open audience.  The exposure resurfaced the wound yet it allowed it to heal a new.  Like it had never been healed before.  Actually, in the resurfacing I discovered it had NEVER been healed before.

“Will you grow in tenderness towards the child that has been contaminated by harm?” Dan asks us. 

A room full of people working with people who have experienced harm.  As children and as adults yet they have never found the healing or the hope.   Yet WE offer them that hope and that healing but we were now being challenged to experience it for ourselves.

We broke up into groups of five and shared our stories out loud.  In an uncomfortable silence we awaited feedback from those around us.  Soft tender hearts were there to bear the pain.

“Redemption happens when you allow people to dwell in your heart and grieve and fight for you.”

And then in their grieving they see a perspective of MY story I never saw before.  Like discovering the key to the treasure box that held my healing.  But the healing still demanded something from me.

Again he challenges…”You have to give up a lot to write your story.  We have to give up our loyalties.  It is true that we have a great loyalty to Jesus UNTIL we are asked to give up other gods.  So where do your loyalties lie?” 

Loyalties and honor.  Both touchy subjects that were covered to bring light to the battle that raged in not only our minds but in our world views.  In my world view.  So slowly my loyalties shifted and the loyalty lay in the healing that needed to be done for me, for my family, for my ladies.  My loyalty lay in the Healer. 

So I clung to the process and endured the pain again of the sacrifice.

In the sacrifice and in the honesty that surpassed the desire to dwell with the wound any longer there was a loneliness that begged for me to search deeper to find where God was in that place of pain.

“In beauty there is brokenness.  All beauty bears brokenness… God intends to use the scars to bring Him glory.”

Last year I wrote a blog about God wanting to heal my broken heart.  It coincided with a tumultuous time for me and my family.  I felt a need to drop down, a picture of a falling flat on my face.  So I did it- literally.  Nothing changed.

As we drew near to the end of the story writing workshop I was reminded of this falling down.   At the beginning Dan challenged us with this question- “Can you enter into the stories of death in your own life?  When our lives are meant to tell the story of the death, burial and resurrection of Christ.”

Entering into death is not easy.  It was exemplified in others in my group who had the courage to do so in the company of tender hearts.  Yet I did it in the quietness of my room- I finally found the falling down, the dying.. and as it caused the tears to flow again, I opened my little pink Bible and found solace in the words from the pages that have held my heart afloat for so many years. 

“For you have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but you have received the Spirit of Adoption, whereby we cry ABBA Father.  The Spirit itself bears witness with our Spirit that WE are the children of God.  And if children then heirs, heirs of God and joint-heirs with Christ, if so be that we suffer WITH Him that we may also be glorified TOGETHER.” Rom 8:15-17 (emphasis added)

So I am comforted by the fact that I am an ADOPTED child who has been chosen by LOVE (which perfectly casts out all the fear that had taken up reign in my heart) and that in turn allowed me to not suffer alone but suffer WITH Christ, so that we may be resurrected in glory together. 

A story that waited to be written for so long to bring healing to my heart was finally inked onto paper as an expression of the pain.  A pain that I had tried to physically express as a teenager by taking a craft knife to my hands; a pain I had tried to spiritually express as I found Forgiveness that caused me to “forgive” and forget, pressing on but not entering in; a pain that I had let control my emotions more than I had realized as my trying to keep my distance from it turned my face to re-enact it over and over again. 

Yet it was a pain that desired to be entered into like a tomb with a stone that had rolled away, calling out to reveal the light of the resurrection that could only happen upon the entering in- the falling down into the grave that needed to happen for real resurrection and ascension to occur.   And in that ascended place, I am able to reach down again and help to pull those who are still fighting the death. 

The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach the gospel to the poor; he has sent me to heal the brokenhearted, to preach deliverance to the captives, and recovering of sight to the blind, to set at liberty them that are bruised,- Jesus Christ (Luke 4:18)