Journal

Wednesday, June 17, 2009 1:49 AM CDT

**Gonna leave this up for a while, but several of you have asked about more pictures. I'm posting some links to my photo albums on facebook. It should work. If it doesn't..copy and paste:

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=263577&id=523135544&l=412d079f00

http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=263928&id=523135544&l=bf1bf17294

Tanzania 2009




At first I cannot believe that I am back in Tanzania. I step off the plane and into the airport, only to find it exactly as I remember, like it could have been seconds since I left and not a year. There are people here to greet us from the church, and I am hugged by several women who I remember from last year. As we drive to the hostel I watch out the window, captivated by the streets of Dar Es Salaam. So many people bustle about, selling various things, sweeping the streets and transporting unbelievable amounts of foam and other random things on their bikes. I see the faces of millions of people who do not know my Jesus. Millions of people who have no hope.

It is Saturday. 6 AM and I am getting ready to head out on safari. I get into the Jeep, change the batteries in my camera so that I'll be ready to snap the perfect photo of an elephant or giraffe or lion. It's hard for me to comprehend that these animals exist outside of zoos. Even though this is the second time I've been to Africa, it's still hard for me to believe. My heart still leaps when I see a giraffe standing mere yards from us. The longer I stare at it, the more amazing it seems to me. The sun is rising and the colors in the sky are magnificent. Creation really does shout God's praise. This is proof. My camera clicks over and over as I try to capture this moment, but no photo will ever do it justice. I am witnessing a miracle, and no picture would ever be able to contain it.

I am deeply moved by the faces of each child that I meet this year in Tanzania. Behind the dark, dirt covered skin, inside those clear brown eyes, I see something wondrous and beautiful. I see their stories written in the scars that dot their little arms and legs. These children are children of poverty, who cannot afford to have matching flip-flops. These children are children who hunger and thirst daily for food and water that isn't always available to them. These children are always here, on the other side of the world, while I sit comfortably in New Balance sneakers, with a full stomach, contemplating what to watch on TV. These children do not know what life is like in America. They see my pale white skin and soft curly hair and marvel over me. They see my pretty clothes and jewelery and they think that I am rich. And suddenly I realize they are right. I have so much, but I forget. Every day I forget that clean running water is a luxury, that shoes and clothes are necessities-not fashion statements, that the three bedroom home my family and I live in is a blessing from God. I forget all of this. I feel that I am entitled to it. I just expect it, because I have never known anything else. I am very humbled in this moment, and as the children of Tanzania stroke my hair and jabber on in Swahili, I nod my head as if I understand, because a part of me truly does. They are saying things that children of all countries and tongues say : "Play with us", "Laugh with us", "Love us." And I do. I love them.

It is later in the day and I am standing before a group of about 65 young women. I don't know what to say to them, what to pray over them. The prayer I've prepared this morning dances in my head, but none of it seems adequate. God has placed this team of leaders together for this conference in a way that can only be described as divine. I am trying to find my place in it. I pray a short closing prayer and watch as faces I recognize from last year start to approach me. They are beautiful, all smiles, as they say my name. "Amber," they say with thick accents, " it is so good to see you again." I am amazed that they remember my name, and ashamed that I cannot remember theirs. "We are so blessed to have you here. We missed you." they continue. A smile spreads across my face as I hug them. I realize now that I missed them too. I missed the way they worship, unashamed and uninhibited. I missed their smiles. I missed this genuine feeling of love that radiates from each one of them. These are true women of faith, I think to myself. Why do I feel like I'm getting more out of this than they are?
Suddenly we are dancing. The music is loud and the church is growing warmer by the second. The steps aren't hard, but with two left feet, I am giving the girls much to laugh about. They simplify the dance for me and laugh again when it takes me several tries to get it right. This is fellowship. We are dancing for our King. We are His Princesses. That is the focus of this conference. I came here to show the girls of Tanzania how much they are worth to God. But they are giving me such a gift in return, showing me how much I am worth to them.

It's late at night and we are gathered in Room 31 of the hostel for our nightly devotion. I cannot believe how fast this week has gone. I am ready to go home, but not really. I can't get the faces out of my head. Every time I close my eyes I see a little boy with a crooked smile and red flip-flops, one of which is broken, and I wonder how he manages to walk in them. As we go around the room, sharing stories from the day, I am overwhelmed by how much God has accomplished through our team in such a short visit. Three days of "Community Day" (which consisted of everything from hand washing and nutrition stations to evangelism and clothes distribution), VBS for the children, Pastor's Conference, Business Conference, and Girl's Conference, and a soccer ministry... 100 came to know Christ as their Savior. This is an incredible number to me. I cannot begin to understand why God would allow me to take part in such an awesome thing. I am so grateful to be a part of this ministry.

I feel as though I am floating, somewhere in another universe. Africa could not possibly be on the same Earth as America. In Africa things are so completely different. People are searching for answers to life's hardest questions and they don't laugh in the face of God. Miracles happen every day and people stop to notice them. Why is America so different? I stop to think about this while we sing "In Christ Alone" for what seems like the hundredth time. In America we are so consumed with physical things: technology, money or whatever else distracts us, that we are unaware of the spiritual things. We overlook God and fail to rely on him for everyday needs. In Tanzania people are searching for a Savior. In America we are searching to save ourselves.

It's like the world and it's mysteries are a puzzle to me, and I am having a sudden stroke of good fortune in fitting the pieces together. So much makes sense to me in this moment, but sadly I know that it won't last. Soon I will go home and I will forget what it's like to stare into the eyes of an orphaned child and hear his heart's cry. Soon I will move on from this place and fail to remember all the things I swore never to forget. But right now, I am trying my hardest to etch the memories on the tablet of my heart, so that someday I can look back and see that there is order in a world of chaos, that God exists amongst the dying nations, and that my life is so much better than I ever thought. Yes, the pieces are fitting together so nicely. It's nice to get a glimpse of the big picture sometimes. It gives you just enough hope to carry on.

I am a changed person. I can tell. I can never look at life in the same way again. Months from now when I close my eyes I may not still be thinking about the little boy and his broken flip-flops, but right now I am. And that changes everything.