Imagine something with me. Think of a 100 by 50 foot run-down, dirt-floored school cafeteria/assembly hall. Imagine no glass in the windows, old wooden tables and benches, you sitting at the place of “honor”—near the front, against an old wall that must have been painted ten years ago. You’re at the first school you’ve ever been to in Masaka, Uganda. Now imagine the kids, at least five hundred of them: coal black eyes, dark skin, all with the similar close-cut hair which takes away any clue as to gender. All wear school uniforms, or parts of them, or whatever clothing they could find. The school choir assembles and begins to sing a song. You hear the words and your vision becomes clouded with tears as you realize they are welcoming you to their school. They are welcoming you to their school for orphans, from 1 to 18 years old. These are children who’ve lost their parents to AIDS.
The song goes something like this: “We are happy to receive you here, welcome, welcome, welcome”. As the choir sings, a few children step forward and explain about their lives and ask you to pray for them. Then they step back into the choir and the song resumes.
For a moment you think to take a picture. How else can you truly relate this story or this event to the people at home? If you could just pack up everything—the children, the percussion players, the teachers—and bring them all back home to your church to share with everyone. If you could somehow show people what your life is really like: the smells, the sights, the sounds and the experiences. Then it would capture their hearts the way it’s captured yours. I wish you could have been there with me.
For some of us at Book of Hope, this is what we do. This is what we gave up family, jobs, careers and homes for. This is our calling. This is where we feel God has placed us for this time. This is where we bring our lives to try and figure out how we’re going to reach the millions of children in Europe, Africa, Russia, Asia, South and North America. Our responsibility is to train and teach the local churches how they can effectively reach their neighborhoods and communities with the Book of Hope.
Many times our task begins by trying to explain the importance of children’s ministries to the church. It amazes me to hear pastors and workers tell us that the children aren’t that important, that they don’t help pay tithes so they shouldn’t be regarded as part of the church. Part of our responsibility and training is to show how much value the Book of Hope has in reaching children, and how those children can in turn reach their families.
In August I will have been with Book of Hope four years. It’s amazing to look back and think of all the places I’ve been and all the people I’ve met. I can see all the changes that have taken place in my life and in the lives of the people around me. My brother Micah recently got married. He and Michelle met on a summer intern trip in 2002. As I look through pictures of that trip, I don’t feel any sense of loss or doubt about what I am doing.
I am giving my life to something that will truly make a difference in the lives of thousands of children around the world. I believe that God has called me here, and that the time I’ve spent with Book of Hope has been powerfully invested in something beyond this life. This is an investment in things that will never fade.
So back to Masaka and the school: as the song finishes, you realize the children are all looking at you. You wipe tears from your cheeks. You are expected to minister to them. This is what you are here for. This is what you traveled 8,000 miles and 10 different time zones for. Yet as you sit there contemplating what to say, you realize that these children have touched a part of your heart and soul in a way that can never be repaid. I’m so glad you could be there with me.
During the Spring semester of 2005 our intern teams were in over eight different countries, trained over 1000 local church members and distributed over 200,000 Books of Hope to students.
6.17.2005
4.26.2005
Washing feet...
"Five minutes, that's all, very close" I was assured that the hotel I was looking for was just walking distance down the road. I suppose I could just walk there then. If it's just down the road and it's on this side of the street. "Five minutes?" I asked. "Yes, very close", the front desk guy says.
I guess by now I should know that words like five and minutes are subjective terms, meaning they can change depending on the person you're talking to and the subjects being spoken of.
As I left the comfort of the air conditioned lobby, I nimbly dodged the construction work going on directly outside the hotel. It looks like a new sidewalk is being made, but not knowing anything about road work I guess it's necessary to remove most of the street as well.
Smells and sights and sounds, lots of sounds explode my senses, it's like the entire community is out today on this road at this exact time with a place to go and people to push out of the way. I didn't feel threatened or anything, the situation just takes your emotional world up a few notches. About thirty minutes into the walk I come to the conclusion that I've missed the place and turn around to head back. Then up in the distance I see the sign, I don't remember if he told me that you could only see it from the back, no, now that I think about it, he didn't. I guess he was honest when he said five minutes, but it seemed like a really long, hot, dusty, loud, smelly five minutes for sure.
It's amazing to me the contrasts that you can see here. Huge buildings rise up in front of you, people in shirts and ties running into them and then right next door, literally, directly next to the building you see children playing in the garbage piles, their parents sifting through looking for something valuable.
And yet here I am in the midst of it all, trying in vain to figure out some way to help, some way to begin to understand how to reach these people. I've been sent to serve. I've been sent to try and show people who Jesus is and how much he loves them. I've been sent to wash their feet and show them that I too am a person in need of Christ, no more or less important than them. Our lives and languages and citizenship may be different, but we're all the same the same price was paid for each of us. So I've been given a message and a command, to take this story to the children. Tell them there is a friend, a father, a future for each of them sitting near the King of all Kings. Being held by the Father who will never leave them and will always love them. This is the message I've been sent to give.
India is an incredible place, nothing can prepare you for coming here, and it will leave marks on your heart that will never go away.
I guess by now I should know that words like five and minutes are subjective terms, meaning they can change depending on the person you're talking to and the subjects being spoken of.
As I left the comfort of the air conditioned lobby, I nimbly dodged the construction work going on directly outside the hotel. It looks like a new sidewalk is being made, but not knowing anything about road work I guess it's necessary to remove most of the street as well.
Smells and sights and sounds, lots of sounds explode my senses, it's like the entire community is out today on this road at this exact time with a place to go and people to push out of the way. I didn't feel threatened or anything, the situation just takes your emotional world up a few notches. About thirty minutes into the walk I come to the conclusion that I've missed the place and turn around to head back. Then up in the distance I see the sign, I don't remember if he told me that you could only see it from the back, no, now that I think about it, he didn't. I guess he was honest when he said five minutes, but it seemed like a really long, hot, dusty, loud, smelly five minutes for sure.
It's amazing to me the contrasts that you can see here. Huge buildings rise up in front of you, people in shirts and ties running into them and then right next door, literally, directly next to the building you see children playing in the garbage piles, their parents sifting through looking for something valuable.
And yet here I am in the midst of it all, trying in vain to figure out some way to help, some way to begin to understand how to reach these people. I've been sent to serve. I've been sent to try and show people who Jesus is and how much he loves them. I've been sent to wash their feet and show them that I too am a person in need of Christ, no more or less important than them. Our lives and languages and citizenship may be different, but we're all the same the same price was paid for each of us. So I've been given a message and a command, to take this story to the children. Tell them there is a friend, a father, a future for each of them sitting near the King of all Kings. Being held by the Father who will never leave them and will always love them. This is the message I've been sent to give.
India is an incredible place, nothing can prepare you for coming here, and it will leave marks on your heart that will never go away.
4.13.2005
As Fast As The Crow Flies
As fast as the crow flies, I thought to myself. Our train was leaving the station as I watched this big black bird glide alongside us. His life probably spent near the train station growing accustomed to the slow moving machines harboring his observer. Amazing I thought, he’ll never know anything more than this train station, although he can fly above the cities and look over them all; he’ll never see past his immediate surroundings or think past his next meal. He doesn’t know how big the world is or about all the other places and people living in it. He’ll never understand politics, work, traffic, school, marriage or governments. He doesn’t think about tomorrow or the problems it may hold. Oh to be a crow.
Wouldn’t it be great to live his life and be able to leave the worries and troubles of life and live for the day? To be able to forget about the fears, worries and doubts that plague this existence. Just for one day, one single day to be able to gaze down on the world and the cities without concerns or cares. What would that be like? Just to be a crow.
He’ll never understand my world; he’ll never understand my life or my experiences. Even if I tried telling him about all the things he’ll never know about, he’d just flap his wings and wonder why I wasn’t throwing him any bread.
Never knowing sadness, loneliness, emptiness, joy, happiness, excitement, or love. He’ll never know the experience of other cultures or eating food that you don’t like. He’ll never understand what it’s like to give a child a Book of Hope, to do a school assembly, give a testimony or perform a drama; he’ll never see lives changed. He’ll never hear God speak or see his work. To be a crow is to never have any purpose or any dreams for your life, no drive or ambition, no one to fight for or look forward to seeing or hearing from.
For those of us who’ve experienced these Book of Hope events in life, would you trade them? If someone said you could trade everything you have right now for the life of an average bird; would you give everything up for a life of simple existence? Would you want it?
Thank you God, that I’m not a crow. Thank you that you’ve created me with a purpose and a story to tell. Thank you that you’ve created a new heart in me and entrusted me to spread the message of your love and truth to hundreds of young people around the world. Thank you that I’m not a crow. Flying there looking across the tracks at some big machine moving as fast as I am; wondering about what that tall person is thinking while watching me… thinking about more important things like… lunch.
Wouldn’t it be great to live his life and be able to leave the worries and troubles of life and live for the day? To be able to forget about the fears, worries and doubts that plague this existence. Just for one day, one single day to be able to gaze down on the world and the cities without concerns or cares. What would that be like? Just to be a crow.
He’ll never understand my world; he’ll never understand my life or my experiences. Even if I tried telling him about all the things he’ll never know about, he’d just flap his wings and wonder why I wasn’t throwing him any bread.
Never knowing sadness, loneliness, emptiness, joy, happiness, excitement, or love. He’ll never know the experience of other cultures or eating food that you don’t like. He’ll never understand what it’s like to give a child a Book of Hope, to do a school assembly, give a testimony or perform a drama; he’ll never see lives changed. He’ll never hear God speak or see his work. To be a crow is to never have any purpose or any dreams for your life, no drive or ambition, no one to fight for or look forward to seeing or hearing from.
For those of us who’ve experienced these Book of Hope events in life, would you trade them? If someone said you could trade everything you have right now for the life of an average bird; would you give everything up for a life of simple existence? Would you want it?
Thank you God, that I’m not a crow. Thank you that you’ve created me with a purpose and a story to tell. Thank you that you’ve created a new heart in me and entrusted me to spread the message of your love and truth to hundreds of young people around the world. Thank you that I’m not a crow. Flying there looking across the tracks at some big machine moving as fast as I am; wondering about what that tall person is thinking while watching me… thinking about more important things like… lunch.
3.03.2005
Breaking and Entering
It's hard to imagine someone literally closing a door in your face. It's hard to imagine turning away someone who is trying to improve the lives of the very children you are there to protect. It's hard to imagine the absolute frustration I felt when I left her office.
The situation had turned bad when the religion teacher met with us and reluctantly "agreed" to let us distribute the Books of Hope in the schools. After all, we'd been there since that morning in the classrooms, why would there be any problem now? Time froze for me when the representative from the mayor's office returned moments later and said we could not give the students the books, a complete change, within moments. I asked to speak to the director myself knowing that I would not just lie down and take the defeat.
As we entered the small ten-foot by ten-foot office, I sensed quickly that the director had made up her mind, or someone had made it for her, and that it was not going to change. She informed me that we could leave the books in the library, from there the kids could check them out if they wanted and she started to arrange the papers for the correct signatures. I put my foot down, trying to keep the door open, trying to think of the options we had.
I asked for the reason, why was this door closing? What's happening here God? Show me, talk to me. The teachers don't want distractions, they're too busy, I knew she was not being truthful, every teacher was excited for us to be there, except the one whoís voice and influence was the loudest. I reached for the door handle, hoping to turn it or push it the other direction, but I think I missed.
We agreed to allow some books to stay in the school library, but not the 280 that we should have given to the kids. A compromise? Yes I think it was, I nearly cried when I got back with my team. I felt absolutely defeated. What is it God? What am I supposed to learn here?
I wish each of these stories had a happy ending. The reality though is that a door was closed today, and I felt responsible for not being able to keep it open. I knew that I did everything that I could do, and those negative thoughts and attitudes that I started feeling did not come from God. He was with us today, and he knows the childrenís names that still need to know about His truth.
As one door closes to us, another is being opened. Not only opened, but welcomed with open arms. You see, in one classroom, in the school right next door, one teacher is taking our ministry one step farther. She told her students that tomorrow they would take an hour of class time to discuss the Book of Hope. They would take the time they should've been learning about Economics, to instead learn about Life; to learn about God. They will read about His plan for their lives, His eternal Truths and His love. Is that what you're teaching me? That your timing is perfect? That you're working even when I feel I'm not?
After we've gone and someday forgotten about the most of the details and events of the city, God still has every child's name written somewhere. He has each of their hearts held gently and pulling them towards himself. There is comfort knowing that many of those kids have been called by Him to do incredible things.
When one door closes, I donít stop knocking on others. For someday God will require of us an account of how many doors we tried to open, and I don't want to start thinking of excuses.
There is surely a future Hope for you, and your Hope will not be cut off.
Proverbs 23:18
The situation had turned bad when the religion teacher met with us and reluctantly "agreed" to let us distribute the Books of Hope in the schools. After all, we'd been there since that morning in the classrooms, why would there be any problem now? Time froze for me when the representative from the mayor's office returned moments later and said we could not give the students the books, a complete change, within moments. I asked to speak to the director myself knowing that I would not just lie down and take the defeat.
As we entered the small ten-foot by ten-foot office, I sensed quickly that the director had made up her mind, or someone had made it for her, and that it was not going to change. She informed me that we could leave the books in the library, from there the kids could check them out if they wanted and she started to arrange the papers for the correct signatures. I put my foot down, trying to keep the door open, trying to think of the options we had.
I asked for the reason, why was this door closing? What's happening here God? Show me, talk to me. The teachers don't want distractions, they're too busy, I knew she was not being truthful, every teacher was excited for us to be there, except the one whoís voice and influence was the loudest. I reached for the door handle, hoping to turn it or push it the other direction, but I think I missed.
We agreed to allow some books to stay in the school library, but not the 280 that we should have given to the kids. A compromise? Yes I think it was, I nearly cried when I got back with my team. I felt absolutely defeated. What is it God? What am I supposed to learn here?
I wish each of these stories had a happy ending. The reality though is that a door was closed today, and I felt responsible for not being able to keep it open. I knew that I did everything that I could do, and those negative thoughts and attitudes that I started feeling did not come from God. He was with us today, and he knows the childrenís names that still need to know about His truth.
As one door closes to us, another is being opened. Not only opened, but welcomed with open arms. You see, in one classroom, in the school right next door, one teacher is taking our ministry one step farther. She told her students that tomorrow they would take an hour of class time to discuss the Book of Hope. They would take the time they should've been learning about Economics, to instead learn about Life; to learn about God. They will read about His plan for their lives, His eternal Truths and His love. Is that what you're teaching me? That your timing is perfect? That you're working even when I feel I'm not?
After we've gone and someday forgotten about the most of the details and events of the city, God still has every child's name written somewhere. He has each of their hearts held gently and pulling them towards himself. There is comfort knowing that many of those kids have been called by Him to do incredible things.
When one door closes, I donít stop knocking on others. For someday God will require of us an account of how many doors we tried to open, and I don't want to start thinking of excuses.
There is surely a future Hope for you, and your Hope will not be cut off.
Proverbs 23:18
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