I'm falling in love... with Africa.

A lesson: Be careful what you pray for.

Not that praying with audacity, boldly petitioning the throne of God is a bad thing. But I think in some instances, the process of prayer is what helps us realize what we're actually asking for.

Anyone who knows me, knows my passport is a prized possession. I love to travel. And I love to teach. And I love to minister to others. Put those all together: I'm pretty passionate about my dream of going places to do all of the above. (Side note: I've never considered myself as someone who wants to be a "missionary"... is that weird?) To those who ask me where I want to go, my response has often been "If you gave me an envelope with a plane ticket in it, and told me there was a teaching job at the other end, I'd go."

And to be honest, I think that I would go. I would at least try.

But lately, God has been reminding me of what I'm actually saying. It's almost as though He's nudging me to really take that seriously. It first started when I started mentally excluding Japan (for selfish reasons: I wouldn't want that long of a workday!) And then I learned about Kibera. And my heart broke for it. It was then that I realized that not knowing where I'd end up before getting on the hypothetical airplane would certainly be easier than anticipating a place like Kibera.

Kibera is the largest slum in Africa. Its currugated metal roofs create a sea that stretches out endlessly. It is located near Nairobi, Kenya, and is home to perhaps a million people. No one really knows. Few people are even aware of this nightmare that thousands of young children wake up to every day. Sanitation and water, let alone electricity, is practically a joke. And yet, it exists. Out of sight, out of mind? Really? Is that acceptable?

I'm finding it hard to say no, even though Reason has been kicking into full gears whenever I think about my place in the world and where God may use my passions. Reason is the Devil's advocate, reminding me of other places I'd like to go. Reason even dares to mention that I can't hear naturally, even though I've never let my hearing impairment stop me before--even though I almost did, when I was afraid of not understanding Scottish accents. Reason says I wouldn't like it.

And yet. I hunger and thirst for righteousness. I ache for the brokenhearted. Something in my heart, deep down, knows that Christ is found among the poor, the lame and sick, the dejected and rejected. You wonder why so many people don't feel God in their lives. Have they really looked for him in the places where He is working?

Yes, the poor and suffering are found in West Michigan, too. But can we honestly (and morally) deny the fact that poverty is far more severe elsewhere? I honestly have never seen a malnutrioned child in all of my volunteer work. There are not hundreds of children dying in Grand Rapids because there's a lack of clean water. Yes, we need to take care of our own. But that is not enough.

So. Will I go "anywhere"? Even if God stops the plane the way that the angel stayed Abraham's knife, I ought to make the move to sacrifice my expectations for God's will. It is in the giving up of ourselves that we realize what we're meant to give.


Hallelujah, He is coming,
Hallelujah, He is here.
Hallelujah, He is coming,
Hallelujah, He is here.

More on changing the world:
http://www.un.org/millenniumgoals/
http://www.micahchallenge.org/
http://www.wateraid.org/



Betsy Joy

Optional Reading:

Yes, I still love Scotland, Glasgow and Europe. Yes, Europe needs missions. But I've never realized the extent of the need in Africa, and what I'm finding is perspective-shattering. It makes my soul sick and groan with the Holy Spirit for all of Creation, and my heart gasps Oh, my God. Is it so strange that I long to hold the dying children in my arms, if only to comfort them until they reach the Father's?

Africa has come up in almost every context these days. Maybe it started with Geography class and the realizations of why Africa suffers so much. In my aiding placement, we spent time talking about East Africa, and about half of my students Somalis from Kenya. Following that, multiple conversations (and pictures!) with Josh Kuipers, a fellow Barnabas who has spent a lot of time in Kenya, lit a spark of wanting to know more, more, more. Then, perhaps entirely a God thing, I felt inspired to pick the theme of Water for my unit lesson plans, not really knowing at first which direction I would take it. That's when I encountered wateraid.org, an extensive non-profit organization that seeks to provide the thirsty with sufficient water as well as teaching on proper sanitary and hygiene routines. They led me straight back to East Africa. Again I was sick just reading about the needs there, and then revolted at the statistics I found about how much water a single American uses in a single year (about 30,000 gallons of water, averaging about 80-100 gallons a day.) Tonight I curled up on my couch with African folktales, looking for stories that related to water. I've been falling in love with this ancient continent.


Teach us, Lord, to pray.