Epilogue: "...lead me in the way of everlasting."

This morning, I rise at the break of dawn to a house of sleeping loved-ones. I make my way to the kitchen, attempt a Latte with the new-fangled espresso machine, and find my perch on the front porch swing. Coffee in hand, I am awed by the serine beauty around me. The maple trees are filled with a chorus of birds singing, as their leaves filter the young sun’s rays. The horse on the far hill also seems to be enjoying the morning delights as he flicks his tail to and fro as if dancing to nature’s music. A red-necked hummingbird chooses his breakfast-nectar from a myriad of colorful flowers on the porch steps. Rising above a layer of wispy clouds, the blue mountains ahead of me create a heavenly background for this morning tranquility.

Such an environment seems the perfect setting for beginning the enormous task of mental processing. If only the peace and order of Tennessee’s natural beauty could be quickly internalized without process. But transitioning from the tropics of heavily trafficked Ibadan, Nigeria to East Tennessee is a physical, mental, and emotional process, so process I must.

The last few weeks have indeed entailed a tumult of emotion. Saying goodbye to beloved students, co-workers, and friends who have become like family was extremely difficult for me—not to mention the beautiful children at Jesus Kids.  Thankfully, the pain was slightly ameliorated when my sister and friend—Crystal and Cristina—came for a visit two weeks ago. I so enjoyed getting to introduce them to my ACA family as well as a bit of Nigerian culture. I’ve been beyond blessed to enjoy three visits from friends and family during my stay in Nigeria—my friend Caroline Rose, my parents, and now my sister! What a beautiful privilege.

Events of the last couple of weeks included many going-away parties: two hosted by students, one at NAMPAK (South African compound), one prayer and praise send-off at school, and one all-staff send-off. Each was extremely meaningful and emotional. There’s nothing like final goodbye’s to make you feel loved—and boy do I feel loved. Sadly, the disorder that my college friends dubbed “emotional constipation” continues to plague me—which simply means that instead of the natural process of tears flowing from my eyes, all of the emotion gets clogged in my head, chest, and stomach, producing some serious physical pain and sporadic moanings and groanings. It’s a real difficulty.

Some of the hardest goodbyes were to those students into whom I have poured my heart, whether through counseling chats, class discussions, or discipleship club. This morning, though, God offered some encouragement through John 1 where I read,

“Again the next day John was standing with two of his disciples, and he looked at Jesus as He walked, and said, 'Behold, the Lamb of God!’ The two disciples heard him speak, and they followed Jesus.”

Though we don’t know exactly how long John has been preaching and discipling before Jesus came, we can reasonably assume that he had invested plenty of his time and heart into these two disciples. What amazed me was how quick John was to point them to Jesus and release them to His care. It’s amazing to be because it’s so contrary to my natural inclination. My disordered affection causes me to want to hold onto, claim protection over, and be the ultimate help to those I claim to love. Perhaps that’s why goodbyes are so hard for me. But John corrects my faulty impulse. True love, true discipleship requires giving over those we love to Jesus. Ultimately, they must not be our disciples, our children, our friends, our students, but HIS.  Clinging demonstrates not only a lack of true love for them, but a lack of trust in the one in whose care we are to leave them.  Indeed, change such as I’m experiencing truly tests one’s trust and reveals any flaw or misdirection in one’s love. Through it, I pray along with David, “Search me oh God, and know my heart. Test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any wicked way in me, and lead me in the way of everlasting forever. Amen.” (Ps 139)

This transition will test my level of trust and stretch my faith in new ways. Next month I head off to Phoenix, Arizona where I will join old friends in habitation and profession. I’ll be teaching 9^th Grade Humane Letters and 6^th Grade History at Trivium Preparatory Academy and living with several super college friends. I’m looking forward to the new adventures ahead, but am not unaware of the impending inevitable challenges as I reintegrate into American culture.

Questions continue to swirl in my head: How do I hold on to what I’ve learned in the past three years without haughtily isolating myself from those God will place in my life?  How can I continue to live in the new faith that God has given me while living now is such a different environment? How can I best serve and impact the American church with the experiences and perspective that God has given me while in Nigeria? My own processing capabilities seem too limited when faced with such questions.

So as I sit on my porch swing, observing His glory and inhaling His grace, contemplating my future and my past, I resolve not look inward for answers, order, and peace, but to look to Him—the Logos, the creator of this order and beauty that I behold, the Alpha and Omega. To Him I present my supplication: “…lead me in the way of everlasting.” 

Spring Break and Beyond

They say that the last quarter of a tank of gas goes far quicker than the first.  While I question the legitimacy of such a statement, the principle definitely holds true when it comes to time spent amongst beautiful people and meaningful experiences. I can’t believe that I am well into the final quarter of my final year here at A.C.A. While I am excited to go back to my home country to be amongst old friends and family, the thought of leaving my students and co-workers is pretty devastating. I hate goodbyes. As the needle on my time-gauge makes its way towards “E,” I am filled with a greater urgency to pray, speak truth, and display love towards those God has placed in my life here in Ibadan.  I pray that God would give me the strength and direction to complete all that He has for me in this chapter of life.

The last month has been filled with blessings, which I’ll try to briefly summarize. As Spring Break approached, plans for the two-week holiday were sparse and unstable. But, by the time April 4^th rolled around, my excitement about the vacation-time was through-the-roof.  With the help of my compound mates, I had thrown together a little retreat plan for my Discipleship Club girls. We had been discussing in club the practical application of being disciples of Jesus—that is, learning “to do all that [He] commanded”—that is, learning to love and serve our neighbors. So, I decided we should center the retreat around the theme of “Service” and provide some real opportunities for the girls to get their hands dirty. So, during the course of the retreat, we set up a party for the children of “Jesus Kids” (see last post) and brought them in for a day of fun. 

Many of my students had never interacted with or appreciated at all people with disabilities, so it was a beautiful growing experience for them. Each girl was paired up with a buddy (much like at Joni and Friends camp or Luke 14) with whom they did crafts, rode horses, blew bubbles, took pictures, and danced. It was a blast. 

After driving the kids back to their facilities, we began the next big project—cooking and setting up a nice banquet for the grounds staff here at A.C.A.—gardeners, cleaners, guards, and gatemen. During the evening meal, the girls presented gifts and Thank You cards to each staff member to appreciate there often-unnoticed work. Through the course of these two service events, my girls gained a huge appreciation for those who the world has deemed unimportant.  It was such a blessing to see my students shine as they embraced with joy the opportunity to be the hands and feet of Christ. I think many were transformed through the experience, and I sure was encouraged.

 

When the three-day retreat drew to a close, exhausted though I was, I began to prepare to travel to South Africa with Sam and Mr. Equi and Mrs. Karen. The following week was a spectacularly serene experience. We flew into Cape Town on Thursday and were picked up by some friends that we’ve gotten to know here in Ibadan. 

The beauty and luxury of the next few days baffled me—from hiking atop Table Mountain, to wine and cheese tasting, to dancing on the beach, to seeing fantastic animals on a safari. It was really too much to take in. A couple of days spent with another friend in the midst of Wellington’s wine farms, surrounded by mountains under a blue sky, was the crowning jewel of our trip. God really spoiled us.

Coming back to Nigeria, where quality in sights, smells, and organization is severely lacking, was a bit difficult. But God quickly reminded me of the beautiful purpose for which He has me here – to address the many emotional and spiritual needs of those around me by loving them to Jesus. 

A week after returning, many of our staff and students were brought to our knees in prayer for our sisters in the north who have been abducted by the Boko Haram terrorists (see more info here). While it is sometimes easiest for us to separate ourselves from such atrocities, a dream that one of our students was given brought the incident too close to home.  In the dream, a group of men came into our school under the guise of preaching the gospel and took, raped, and shot many of our girls. The dream was extremely vivid

and demanded a response of intense prayer, not only for our own protection, but also for the deliverance of the girls in the north who have been taken. When I began to consider the possibility of my own students being taken in such a way, I was struck with an emotional urgency to take up arms and fight until those girls are returned to their homes. The school is joining together to do so through prayer, “For we are not fighting against flesh-and-blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world, and against evil spirits in the heavenly places.” (Eph 6:12). Please join us in asking that the one who led captivity captive would quickly rescue these girls.

Finally, I’d be so grateful if you’d pray along with me for direction concerning my future. My hopes of starting grad school in the fall look to be falling through. I’m sure it’s because God has something way better up His sleeve; I just have no idea what that might be. So prayer for discernment and willingness to go where He leads would be so appreciated. Until next time, O dabo!

"...as we tarry there": A Cycle of Love

“And He walks with me and He talks with me, and He tells me I am His own. And the joy we share as we tarry there, none other has ever known.”

More than ever before, I am enjoying spending time with the Love of my life.  My heart is so full, yet my greatest satisfaction comes from being poured out. How can I describe this eternal cycle of love? While I feel overwhelmed with compassion for the broken, I know that this love is only an overflow of the eternal replenishment that He supplies. Being a part of this ceaseless fountain, with its physically eroding and spiritually purifying effects, is providing deep fulfillment while simultaneously evoking a seemingly unquenchable thirst for more Love, more Power, more Him. Ironically, (though some will scorn my romanticizing or debasing this holy communion) rather that meeting Him “…in the garden alone, while the dew is still on the roses,” I have “…found love in a hopeless place.” But then again, I guess that’s where those who are lost find him…

The last two weeks have been intense and beautiful.  The week before last I was presented with many weighty issues via counseling sessions, the responses to which required incredible discretion and divine wisdom. Tuesday was particularly full of tumultuous meetings. In the midst of these intense situations, I was scheduled to teach three Bible classes. Knowing my inability to smoothly transition from heart-throbbing counseling sessions to teaching a class for of second graders about John the Baptist, I began class by turning on some worship music and asking the kids to just pray for a good 10 minutes. The classtime that resulted was so glorious that I decided to repeat the worship/prayer introduction for the 5^th grade class.  As we concluded our prayer time, I felt a great urge to reject my lesson plan and jump into the great abyss of “off-script.”  I shared with them some thoughts from John 3 in which Jesus says that condemnation is felt only by individuals who refuse to step into the light for fear that their evil deeds be exposed. After addressing the issue of hidden sin and the need for our hearts to be cleansed, I simply told the kids that anyone who wanted to talk more should stay after class. To my surprise, six kids remained after dismissal. All were burdened by felt sin and wanted Jesus to help them to live as He did. I talked with each of them individually and each asked Jesus to take control of their lives.  It was beautiful. The next Bible class that I had with the class allowed opportunity for follow-up with those students. In a week’s time, God had confirmed to each of them in different ways that they had chosen aright. God is faithful.

Outside of school, God continues to bless my socks off through the precious folks at Jesus Kids.  Yesterday morning, upon entering, I was attacked with hugs by Lara (a teenager with Down Syndrome), who acted as if we were her long-lost sisters. When we began singing, Damola (a 10-year-old boy with Autism), who is essentially non-verbal, started singing with amazing clarity, “I’m trading my sorrows…for the joy of the Lord.” As I looked around, I saw such expressions of joy on every face that made my heart want to burst.  So, my housemates and I have been talking.  The matron at the orphanage (a godly woman who radiates the love of Christ and maintains standards of excellence in all things) has mentioned to us several of the financial needs that they face: weekly physical and speech therapy, needed surgeries, equipment for new Autism Center, monthly rent, Special Ed. school fees, and basic daily needs. With no steady income, the matron is forced to totally rely upon God to meet these needs, which she does with a joyful spirit. She receives donations from some churches, some organizations, and some individuals, but is not able to proceed with life-changing surgeries until more donations come in.

 My housemates and I have decided to get the word out to our various circles back home, in case anyone is interested in offering financial assistance to meet these immense needs.  The Jesus Kids staff has the long-term goal of building their own establishment instead of cramming into the small rented building which currently houses them. We would love to put them on the road to achieving these dreams. My parents have offered to collect donations from anyone who is compelled to reach out.  While it’s true that many Nigerian organizations conduct shady financial interactions, the presence of God’s spirit in this place allows me to easily vouch for them. They are continuing Jesus’s mission on earth. If you’re interested in helping out, feel free to contact me (lucylaplue@gmail.com), or one of my parents (larrylaplue@gmail.com; dlaplue@juno.com). You can check out their website, (http://jesuskidsng.org/); we’re also hoping to offer some suggestions for their website as it's quality is not top-notch, but we’ll see. Thanks for prayerfully considering these needs!

Joining the Shepherds

So they hurried off and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby, who was lying in the manger. – Luke 2:16

Last week in my Bible Classes, we considered the profound moment in history wherein God’s Son entered the world. Looking again at the manger scene, my students and I were struck by the absurd humility displayed by the Creator of the universe. When we entered into a discussion about the shepherds, we were challenged by the question, “Why did God choose nasty, smelly, homeless shepherds as the first to greet him in the stable?”  The answer that was revealed during the second grade Bible Class struck me to the core.  Had rich kings, familiar only with polished riches and perfumed pillows, arrived in Bethlehem seeking a king; Had they found the star shining upon a crowded stable; Had they the stomach to enter the loud, smelly, barn; would they not have been so distraught at the putrid environment that they would have missed the beauty of the baby having just been born into it? The shepherds on the other hand, being comfortable with discomfort, indubitably took no notice of the smelly mess in the rugged stable, but rather knelt, perhaps with tears clearing their eyes, in awestruck wonder before the Servant King.  The real challenge came in the next question voiced to my second graders but directed at me: So, why is it difficult for rich people – those of us who enjoy the comforts and luxuries of the world—to “enter the Kingdom of heaven” (i.e. see and enjoy the presence of God)?  Perhaps the answer lies with our hypothetical rich, stable-visitors. Perhaps those who miss him are those who are unwilling to enter the messy places, or those who, upon arrival, become so agitated at the mess that they miss the Savior dwelling within.  Why are we so careful to avoid smelly people, dirty places, and sticky situations when it is all too apparent that those are the places wherein Jesus chooses to reside? If we were really intent upon being with Christ, would we not join the smelly shepherds in hurrying off to find the baby lying in a feed trough? Lord, may your star guide us not to the palace of Jerusalem, but to the barn of Bethlehem. 

Life-Scenes

            With the millions of mosquitoes flying around in our house, school, and compound, it’s a wonder we’re not ALL dead from malaria. It’s tricky at night because the dimness of our living room lights allows the perfect opportunity for the accursed insects to swarm and attack unaware innocents life myself. If I feel a hair on my arm move, I can be sure that a pint of blood has already been sucked.  Last week, when two of my housemates fell ill with some unknown diseases, my paranoia increased tenfold. Because of my apparent proclivity to Nigerian sickness, I am devoting myself wholeheartedly to the task of attacking any sign of encroaching disease. Plenty of vitamins and herbs, pro-biotics, nutritious juices, olive leaf extract, mouthwash, and exercise seem to be doing the trick so far. And prayer. Come to think of it, it’s probably primarily that last one.

            As a child at Grandma’s house, I remember reading The Man Who Didn’t Wash His Dishes and learning that putting-off tasks produces a daunting pile-up for the future. Apparently I didn’t learn to cross-apply that lesson to updating my blog. So now I have the charge of recollecting and summarizing scene changes from the last two months of my life.

             Scene 1: Christmas Break

             The opportunity to visit my sister, Jessie in Jordan and tour throughout Israel proved an incredible experience. From Jordan’s ancient rock city, Petra, to the deserts of Wadi Rum to the Old City of Jerusalem to the Dead Sea, my housemates Meghan and Gretchen, along with Jessie and me, had a spectacular time of it.

Bethlehem on Christmas Eve was as expected—super busy. We found incredible contrast between the commercialized bustle of the places where Jesus was man-handled (Bethlehem, Nazareth, and Golgatha) and the serenity of the places where his Word was received (Mount of Beatitudes, around Galilee). (pause for audience consideration)  I left Israel evermore appreciating the patience that God has with all these confused, obstinate, inharmonious people inhabiting His creation. Upon returning to Jordan with Jessie for a week, I gained a far greater appreciation for the work that she is doing there. Let’s just say, as far as weather, relational support, and cultural differences, I have it super EASY compared to her (in my opinion at least). My understanding regarding the spread of the Gospel in different contexts (i.e. in a predominantly Muslim culture) was challenged and stretched. Perhaps some of the subconsciously assumed parameters that I’ve been putting around the Great Commission are beginning to be erased.  

            Nigerians who return from a trip to Jerusalem often legally add “J.P.” (Jerusalem Pilgrimage) to their name, thus forever altering their identity.  Though I will not be signing my name Lee Anne LaPlue J.P.I do hope that the trip proves a significant part of the eternal transformation of my heart and renewal of my mind that God is orchestrating.

            Scene 2: On the Clock

            School continues to provide plenty of fun and plenty of challenges.  We’ve just transitioned into our second semester, allowing the opportunity for new ideas and goals to be birthed. Probably my favorite school activity of the past few weeks—perhaps of my entire time here—was a Saturday “Book Club” that I scheduled for some of my more interested and engaged 8^th grade literature students. Though purposed to wrap-up some deep discussions started in class, this “book club” turned into two hours of serious soul searching.  Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde provides a wonderful framework in which to discuss the battle between good and evil that rages within each of us. The resulting conversation, which inevitably led to a recognition of man’s depravity and need for a savior, was more powerful than many Bible studies that I’ve attended. At one point one student interrupted a moment of silence following some meaty discourse with, “Whoa. That was the deepest 12 minutes of my life.” So, that was fun. I’m hopeful that such discussions ushered my students to a spiritual depth that causes them to wonder at the meaning of life until they find the end of their wanderings.

Scene 3: Counseling

            While this is more a behind-the-scene situation, it is one in which I would greatly appreciate audience participation (i.e. prayer). As an untrained counselor, I am facing student issues resulting from serious parental and peer abuse (physical, sexual, emotional, etc.), scars from bullying, sexual identity questions, depression, and critical apathy. Though the problems are severe, I am placing my hope in the Redeemer who knows how to create beauty out of ashes. My greatest desire is that my students would embrace a similar hope. In fact, I am currently passionately praying for several students (some whom I am not currently counseling), that they might experience a beautiful transformation by coming to accept the grace and love of our Lord Jesus Christ. If you want some specific things/people to pray for, shoot me a quick e-mail (lucylaplue@gmail.com).

Scene 4: Sunday Morning

Last year about half-a-dozen of us started meeting together in school on Sunday mornings for a time of worship. The group, which has doubled is size now, really enjoys the opportunity to fix our eyes on Jesus and offer Him praise as an outflow of our love. Another great joy that we have been privileged to experience on Sunday mornings has been through our pre-praising routine. I mentioned in my last blog post about the motherless babies home that we had been visiting. While our hearts are still with the infants, and we do plan on visiting sporadically, we have taken on another Sunday-morning service venture. 

Jesus Kids is an orphanage primarily for kids with disabilities (though some of them have parents who can’t take care of them). Singing with and watching these kids-many blind, some with cerebral palsy, some with Downs Syndrome-- dance brings my spirit to life. Helping these little ones play with playdough, I am totally in my element and am reminded again of my dreams of long-term international disability ministry. We plan to regularly conduct a little Sunday School for the kids who are unable to leave the compound. Basically, the Sunday morning scene is awesome: first, spend some time serving Jesus and experiencing His joy at Jesus Kids, then come praise and thank Him for such blessings.

Scene 5: The Future

            This scene is a bit blurry; the fog machine is going crazy. I have a few applications out for some Occupational Therapy Doctorate programs that begin next fall. The unknown variables are pretty intense though: will I get accepted despite my incomplete pre-requisites? will I get an assistantship or significant scholarships? if not, how the heck will I pay for school? if grad school doesn’t work out, then what? more teaching? …and the questions go on. I’m pretty confident that my time in Nigeria is coming to a close, but beyond that, things are quite mysterious. The good news is that the director of this scene knows exactly what’s going on now, what’s coming next, and how it all ends. And, something tells me that the fog machines aren’t broken. All part of the plan.

So, I’ve now taken care of my dishes. Hopefully I won’t let them pile up so much in the future. 

Life to the Fullest

“I have come that they might have life, and have it in abundance.” –John 10:10

John 10:10 has long been a guiding theme verse for my life. Ever since my Upward basketball coach (a.k.a. Dad) annually emphasized the point that God wanted us to have fun in life, I’ve joyfully expected and often tasted this abundant life. I frequently mention the verse in my Bible classes and counseling session here at ACA, saying that God wants us to experience all fullness of life. Such a full, joyous, exciting, abundant life holds great appeal for me.  There may, however, be just one little problem. Perhaps I accidently associate this great gift of abundance with fullness of schedule. The issue arises when my fullness of schedule actually inhibits me from living the spirit-filled life that Jesus just might actually have been referring to—that is, a life that manifests love, joy, peace, patience, etc. That third one is the kicker. Too often my aspirations towards a full routine of good works reap stressful situations that inhibit my enjoyment and display of Christ’s love, joy, and peace. Such is my recent—though not new—struggle (some things don’t change no matter where you are). And such is the reason for my sparse communication. Despite my sometimes-convoluted understanding of God’s plan for my life, his grace is such that He continues to show me his glory.

The felt weight of teaching responsibilities, burdensome counseling endeavors, strenuous online course work, and attempted preparations for graduate school may have contributed to my recent encounter with malaria. It was a doozie—probably the worst, most prolonged case that I’ve had yet. Being in bed for over a week, and without strength for two more after that, really set me back in terms of my outside-of-ACA responsibilities. The resulting fatigue and accumulated work load certainly awakens me to my desperation for supernatural strength and grace. And indeed, my Father is showing himself faithful. Each morning that I wake up with a healthy body, each evening that I feel a renewed vigor to press-on gives me reason to thank and praise God.

Meanwhile, God continues his work on a Kingdom masterpiece around me (though his inclusion of my dirty rags is a befuddlement). As a staff at the American Christian Academy, we continue to pray for and expect a revival within our community of students, teachers, and parents. There are signs that such a revival may be beginning.

Last Monday, my principal called the staff to fast and pray for the mission of our school to be accomplished (that is, that hearts turn to Christ for salvation). The following day’s classes for me proceeded normally, until last period. In the middle of my 8^th grade spelling class, I was writing on the white-board when I sensed someone at my side in the front of the class. I turned to see one of my quietest Hindu students, who then mumbled something incomprehensible. I asked his to repeat is because I thought I heard the word “religion” within his mumblings. “Never mind,” he replied, and returned to his seat. I kept pressing him to tell me what he had said, and finally he said, “I’ve decided to change religions.”  And I thought, “In spelling class?” I quickly arranged to meet with him after class, during which time he explained that he didn’t know why, but he didn’t believe in Hindu gods anymore. When I asked what he did believe in, he said, “Jesus Christ.” Well, that was good enough for me. I asked when he had decided he wanted to become a Christian. “Yesterday” was the reply. Why? “I don’t really know.” But I do. Yesterday we had asked, and now God was giving us the nations. As he knew neither what it meant to be a Christian, nor how to begin the journey—but wanted to—I led the student in prayerfully opening the door of his heart at which Jesus had been knocking. It was beautiful. Such an experience, to me, is the epitome of enjoying abundant life. Since that day, I’ve learned that another student has surrendered his life to Christ. The two boys began today meeting with one of our pastor-teachers for discipleship. It’s thrilling.

I should note another series of experiences that I’ve had since last writing. About a month ago, several of us in the compound decided to go to a home for motherless babies in hopes of providing what we perceived these babies needed most – to be held and loved. The orphanage that entered was supposedly one of the nicest ones around, somehow associated with the University Hospital. At the home, we found about 30 babies through the age of two who were being “provided for” in a somewhat primitive, but thankfully clean open room. We’ve been devastated to find that the matron at the orphanage disallows people to hold the babies because she wants them to be independent (WHAT?!?). She says her work there is “spiritual, not sentimental” and doesn’t mind yelling at, yanking, and beating the babies. The babies are prevented from sucking anything—including their hands which have socks tied around them. Their diapers are changed every four hours, regardless of when they are wet or stinky. 

Though the matron has yelled at us and yanked infants out of our arms when we tried to hold them, we’ve sneaked into the place on Sunday mornings when she’s at church to do the forbidden deed. When picking up the children, they become alive, though their bodies are often stiff from sitting for hours on the concrete floor. Their smiles and giggles have touched our hearts. Unfortunately, the whole thing is a huge dilemma for us that requires God’s wisdom. On the one hand, we want to be the hands and feet of Christ who said, “Let the little children come to me,” and held them in his arms. On the other hand, it feels wrong to reject the wishes of the owner/manager of the home who thinks she’s doing what’s best for the babies. So, if you want to join us in praying for wisdom in how to proceed, I would appreciate it.

On a lighter note, I love the holidays, despite the heat. We had a lovely international Thanksgiving dinner last week with South Africans, Nigerians, Lebanese, Indians, Canadians, and Americans. The lack of turkey didn’t hinder us from pausing to offer thanks to the Giver of so many blessings.

I’m looking forward to my Christmas holiday as well. No, I’m not coming back to American this time, but I will be with family. Gretchen, Meghan, and I plan to leave Dec. 17^th for Jordan where we will meet my sister, Jessie for a week. Then, the four of us will head over to Israel for Christmas week where we will celebrate the birth of Christ is His hometown. Then, one more week Jordan-side with Jessie before returning for my last six-months of teaching in Ibadan.

And that’s the update, folks. I’m sure you’ll agree that my life is full, but would you pray that it continues to be filled to overflowing with the fruit that only the Spirit of God can produce within? 

"Overwhelmed by Grace"

I never really enjoyed roller coasters. The queasy feeling one gets as the car slowly inches to the top of an incline from which it will suddenly drop—and along with it your stomach—never held much appeal for me. I don’t mind the twists and turns so much; it’s the ups and downs that get me. The last couple of weeks of my life have been a roller coaster about as enjoyable to me as the Tennessee Tornado.

            My workload on the teaching and learning side has continued to be strenuous. Thankfully, I’m greatly enjoying everything that I’m teaching as well as the subject matter of my online course, but both are laborious. The last few weeks have involved several staff miscarriages and the death of staff member’s loved ones despite arduous prayer. Such difficulties have a way of shaking one’s faith, but we hold to the hope that God will shortly rebuild it stronger than ever before. The most challenging aspect of the last couple of weeks has come from my endeavors to offer counsel to my students. Knowing that I lacked the training and knowledge to provide real therapy, I began the year intending to offer what I could for my students—a listening ear, intercession, any wisdom God chose to impart, and love. It’s all I got. (Yes, I’m been making use of other tools as well—literature, connections, etc.) After some discouraging and confusing experiences, I’m tempted to think what I have is not enough. Such is the feeling, but what is the truth? Though it often escapes me, I must believe 2 Corinthians 9:8 “And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work.” The New Living translation says “And God will generously provide all you need. Then you will always have everything you need and plenty left over to share with others.” So I suppose it comes down to a contest between what I feel and what God says is true. I suppose it’s the same contest that mankind has been battling since the beginning of time.

            Sufficed to say, there have been some real downers lately (including also intense spiritual battles within members of our little American House). Desperation has been prevalent in our school, our house, and my heart. Granted, desperation is not bad, it’s just hard. But now this…

            I was chatting with a friend from back home last week and gained great encouragement. She, too, was presented with some life struggles—circumstances that should have overwhelmed her. But instead of being overwhelmed by circumstances, this was her response (she’ll just have to forgive me for publicizing our private conversation; it was just too good):

         “…However, I am still quite overwhelmed by the presence of grace in my life









.

                          

         
There is still suffering
… 




I suffer and I see other people suffer.




 And its not that the suffering is "good.” 




But I can handle it better because I can see the grace.




 Suffering doesn't lead to grace, 




but grace is available even in the suffering




. It’s like the time when I first got glasses as a kid




 and I put them on and went outside and I finally realized what the world looked like. The world was still the same, but my perception was changed.











I am thankful for everything. Like, I see things that I normally wouldn't notice and I feel grateful for their existence.




 And I think that's the key there. I am so grateful that I don't have time to notice how miserable I am.”

I was struck. To be placed in overwhelming circumstances and yet be overwhelmed by grace. Yes. It must be possible for me, too.

         Indeed, such proved possible for me a couple of days ago as a storm blew into Ibadan. Nigerians often find Americans’ love for storms to be alarming. As the black billowing clouds drew close, I found it an acceptable time to go for a jog, despite our gateman’s ardent warning that “It’s going to fall!” (referring to the rain, of course). Upon my return, I sat down in the middle of the rain and asked God to open my eyes to His glory. And wouldn’t you know… I was quickly awestruck at the beauty of His creation. The fallen leaf slowly drifting down the newly formed stream, the sting of the cold drops falling on my bare arms, the dancing trees cast against a background of swirling clouds, accompanied by a rain-on-tin-roof orchestra. Opening my eyes and heart to such beauty left me… overwhelmed. “Hallelujah, grace like rain falls down on me.” And as I sat in the midst of the falling grace, it was as if I heard His still small voice again—“I love you.”

So the question: Will I see the storms of life as cause for overwhelming anxiety, or will I see the effects of the rain as evidence of his overwhelming grace? May God grant the latter.

Before signing off, I’d like to raise one more prayer point. There seems to be a growing Muslim presence at our school, and with it a felt sense of oppression. Students and parents who, unlike last year, are coming to school covered in black,  students (even those in whom Christ’s work has lately been evident) boldly proclaiming their commitment to Islam, and new students entering the school seemingly secure in their religion, and yet oppressed. We are excited about the increased access to more hearts that Christ died to set free, but are also aware of the enemy’s presence. So, for those willing, I ask you to join us in this spiritual battle (distance is no object for God) by asking our Father for the hearts of these whom He already loves, though they know Him not. Please pray that God would use the Bible classes, daily devotions, and interpersonal interactions to penetrate through darkness and bring light and life to those in need.