Category Archives: Capturing Courage Abroad

As we travel we write about the experiences, the quirky sides, the profound moments and all manner of thoughts and lessons in between – Enjoy!

Faithfulness

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P1290233 compressedSome of you may not know that I home-schooled for sixteen years. With five kids, I at one point in time was overseeing five different grade levels. In addition to this, we had Korean students joining our homeschooling for more than five of those years. And I was tutoring English on the side as well.

I write this today, because I am struck by the themes of our lives, and how they seem to unfold before us, almost unbeknownst and certainly never foreseen.

Looking back at my own school years, the one thing that came through time and time again, year after year, report card after report card, was this, “Cyndy is not living up to her potential.”

Looking back at high-school, where I would bluff my way through Biology 12 with ridiculous rambling balder-dash answers to test questions (my teacher passed me because he was so amused, really, he told me so), the easy A’s I got in Psychology 12 without any studying whatsoever (a girlfriend was quite miffed with me about that ), and the Art class that I made sure to have each year, where we would spend our time practicing dance steps…

Who woulda’ thunk that my life would be marked by education and learning and mentoring.

I missed a phone call from Uganda early this morning, not sure who it was, and so I simply add this to the many calls, texts, and emails that remind me quite regularly of the same thing, “Please come to us.”

“It is time to make this work more official Cyndy, please mentor a small group here in Uganda that we might carry on the work.”

“All we know Cyndy, is that we need you in back in Uganda.”

When are you coming to Mozambique?

When are you coming to Pakistan?

When are you coming to…?”

When I was homeschooling, the routine was grueling. At one point in time, at the fullest point, I began the day at 7am with my oldest, checking on her work, reviewing whatever was new that day, and assigning the next work. Then at 7:45 the same with my oldest son, and then again with my third.

We would then fit some breakfast in, and have the youngest working at their stuff, with all of us ready for the Korean student/s to arrive at 9am. I’d get them set with what they were doing, then time with my third and fourth, and the projects they were all doing together, and later one-on-one time with my youngest.

I’m not even going to finish the full extent of our days. Pretty sure you get the picture. On top of all this, three of my five kids had various degrees of learning disabilities. And so there were the challenges of working alongside and through those realities.

During those years I learned a number of things. I learned how to schedule my time, and to self motivate. I learned how to juggle  and I learned to put down the balls that needed to be put down for a time.

I learned to meet and to pour into a life and to grieve when that student left us. Again and again. I was always saying goodbye to Korean students, and I missed each of them deeply when they left. It was those years where I learned to grieve so well.

I learned to stop in the middle of a day, a couple times a day, and just sit. With my cup of tea in hand on the front steps of my house, I caught 15 minutes of silence and quiet deep inside myself. I learned to work hard and to rest hard.

Most of all I learned faithfulness.

And as I look ahead at the years to come, pouring into the spiritual lives of hundreds of people, mentoring small teams across the seas, encouraging and training and teaching, all the while holding each commitment, each church body, each pastor, deeply in my heart, I clearly see, that homeschooling, was just the start.

It was my training ground. A pressure pot of responsibility, of creativity, of time management, of patience, of honoring others over myself, and most of all, of faithfulness.

I’ve been asked many a time, “How did you do that?” To which I always respond, “I have no idea.”

And it is true. I look back and really have no clue how all those homeschooling years happened. I do know that I am so deeply glad for those years. There are numerous warm memories and crazy things and beautiful routines that happened in the midst of simply growing alongside my kids.

But I don’t really know how I did all that.

Looking ahead, I have no idea how I am going to ‘do all that’ is being asked of me in Africa and beyond. But I do know that I don’t have to know at this point in time.

For anything we do is done a step at a time. A month at a time. A year at a time.

We don’t walk in decades, we walk in days.

And all that is really required is faithfulness, and a heart that carries others, and will to make some things happen.

From responsibility to responsibility, we grow and are grown, we bless and are blessed.

A Revolution

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faithfulness to GodWoven through many of the messages that I heard in Uganda, is an undertone, and often an explicit statement that says, “Come to God and He will make you Great”

or, “Come to Jesus and you will be Big”

Or the most blasphemous statement heard via the television on my last trip, “The wealthier you are the holier you are”

Wow, eh…

So much wrong with that one. But even the other ones, ‘come to God so as to be great’, are gross misrepresentations of the scriptures.

Nowhere have I ever read in my Bible that God promises to make us Great.
But all of this false doctrine I didn’t know about on my first trip to Uganda. I wasn’t aware of the undertone of lusted-after-grandeur and of God being the big fix-it-all-button. Nevertheless, the Holy Spirit led me to preach this sermon, to share this message:

It is good to gather today. And we do so in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

We come together not as people who have nothing in common. For regardless of the circumstances of our lives being different, the experiences of our lives, the trouble that comes our way as human beings, is much the same all over the globe.

And the manner by which God meets us in our difficulty is the also the same. No matter where we live, no matter what color our skin and no matter our socioeconomic status or the culture in which we find ourselves, at our emotional core we all need God the same way.

You may think that Canada has no trouble. But there is trouble all over the globe. Let me share with you a bit of my own story.

You see, I have known what it is to go without food, for at one time I was starving myself so my children could eat. I’ve known what it is to not be able to clothe my kids, I’ve known what it is to rely on the donations of others in order to clothe my children.

I’ve known what it is to be verbally and psychologically abused. I’ve known a bad marriage and of being mocked by the one who swore to love me.

And I’ve known what it is to be sexually abused; for twice as a child I was raped.

And in and through all of that I have come to know a God who is greater than these things, and that walks with us through all of life’s experiences, the good the bad and the ugly.

God does not promise to fix our lives, but he does promise to walk alongside as we go through life. His presence makes all the difference, and God in the gift of Jesus Christ, has gone to extremes to ensure that we can walk together.

We think that God owes us something. But fact of the matter is, God owes us nothing, and we on the other hand, owe him our very lives.

The summer that I was working through the rape memories, the Spirit asked me this,

“In light of everything that has gone bad. In spite of everything that is horribly wrong, will you love me, will you trust me, and will you know me to be good?”

I had accepted Christ as my Savior at the age of six, but that acceptance was in the light of a rosy all-is-right with the world perspective. Christ is easy to accept in the fairytale of our lives.

This time, some 35 years later, Christ was asking me again. “Will you love me, will you trust me, and will you know me to be good?”

It was a hard place. Could I? Would I?

How much do we love God? Do we love him, do we trust him, and will we know him to be good?

My faith up till that point in time had been fairly shallow (now in retrospect). You see a gospel that says come to God and your life will be fixed is shallow at best, blasphemous at worst.

Will our lives steadily increase as we walk with God? Yes!

Do our lives become increasingly free as we give our lives over to Christ? Yes!

But nowhere are we promised that our lives will be fixed.

And so, if God does not fix your life, if nothing changes, and in light of all that is bad, will you love him, will you trust him, and will you know him to be good?

For you see, our decision to give over our lives to the living God, comes before anything gets better. It comes before we see resolutions and before there is relief. We must ask ourselves, how much do we love God today?

And what things have you been holding out as a prerequisite to your full involvement with him? What deals have you been trying to make? What assurances are you demanding?

God owes us nothing, we on the other hand, owe God our very lives.

Speaking this message that first trip, I never knew how revolutionary a message it would be in light of the Uganda culture, never realized that it is a message in direct opposition to the ‘Come to God and he will make you great or big or wealthy or healthy or… ”

But I am pretty sure it is not revolutionary just in Uganda, but in Canada as well.

These revolutionary messages of the heart of God are exactly the work we as Capturing Courage International are called to preach. It is the core of the Biblical Training that we are taking, the core of the Leadership Development and Emotional and Spiritual Freedoms.

What do we believe about God?

What does God say about God?

And what might we bring to God today?

Victor

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P1260995 compressedI was staying at Edith’s home for some three weeks. With a lovely home on the outskirts of Jinja, Uganda, there were many of us there. I had stayed there before, but this time Edith’s daughter was there with her little boy.

Victor was not quite two years old. A sweet little guy, but like a few of the littlest children, afraid of me and my strange white appearance.

Yet I was determined to make friends with him (longed to make friends with him), and he seemed to have the same notion. Every day, numerous times a day, he would skitter past my room, peering in through the open door-way, catch my glance and skitter away.

And every day he would come a couple of inches closer than the day before.

For the first week he would simply stand afar off in the hallway, looking and taking me in. And when I looked up to smile at him, off he would go. The second week he would come a touch closer, and stay a touch longer.

Now I wasn’t there all day every day, but at the start and ends of my days, and on my days off, Victor and I slowly developed a tentative rapport.

Generally speaking he was a bit of a fussy boy. And so there were tears and cries as he was put down for a nap, or when he wanted his Mama’s comfort or feeding, or when he was simply frustrated and feeling left out.

A lot of the time he wore only a small beaded belt around his waist, and in his beautiful baby body he toddled around the home, comfortable and free in his own skin, and as the weeks passed he finally got as close as the doorway to my room.

And then came my last Saturday in Edith’s home. Both Edith and her daughter were at the garden. I was home that day as were a few of the teen girls and a number of the children, Victor being one of them.

About mid-morning he became very sad with many tears. The other kids weren’t letting him play with them, the girls were preparing and cooking food, and his Mama was not there. What was a little boy to do?

I saw that maybe my time had come. Slowly I approached and scooped down to take him in my arms. I cannot express the delight as he let me pick him up and take him on my lap.

We simply sat. He calmed down. I was thrilled.

We hadn’t gotten closer than four feet prior to this, and to think that he was letting me hold him was a grand breakthrough. From that point on we were true friends, with an easy snuggling on my lap each day till I left.

I wonder how much this story represents us and God. We are afraid and unsure, startled by who God is, and certainly not sure how close we want to be.

But when life gets hard, when our common comforts are not at hand, and when we are at our wits end, we say okay, I’ll come closer to you now. “Yes I’ll let you in.”

Thing is, this takes some time. It took Victor three full weeks to allow me to touch him, but we were in the same house all along. I was simply there, and he was curious but fearful.

Isn’t it the same with God and us? God is simply here, in the house, present and eager, simply waiting to extend love and care. We hold back. It is us who are afraid.

We are the unsure ones.

Notice the picture of Victor (above) taken near the end of my trip and after we had become friends.

Can you see the affection coming out of his clear eyes, his frank companionship and gladness of being as I took his picture?

He wasn’t afraid any longer.

And this is how we can be with God. Come near to God and God will come near to us.

Fear of the unknown, insecurity about the present, and all that holds us back, will fall away. For in God’s presence we are validated, and encouraged, and strengthened.

We are comforted, supported, empowered.

How much time will we allow to pass swallowed in our own uncertainty?

“God, I have no idea how to come near to you, but I ask that you show me how. You scare me, I am afraid of you, but I want to know you, I want companionship and rapport with you.”

We don’t need to bring anything other than ourselves to God.

Like Victor’s naked little body, we simply come, and stand, risking to be seen and to be held, and to be changed forever.

Gifts for the Journey

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Mbale March 2012 398 compressedThere are those moments I wish I could have taken a hidden video recording.

This particular day in Uganda the video would have shown myself with hat on my head, water bottle in hand, and my smaller backpack on my back, simply standing, and being watched, stared at, observed. I’m not sure what to call it.

Have you ever climbed a hill or mountain, or stood looking around at the scenery, well this was me that day. I too just stood there, taking in the sights of the soccer game going on nearby, of the traffic on the one-lane road nearby, and of whatever I could amuse myself with.

But unlike that experience of climbing a mountain and beholding a view alone or with a few companions, this day I beheld my views with an audience. For in an almost complete circle around me, were about fifty people.

Mostly children and teens, but adults also, they gathered, and stood, and looked, at me.

And there we all stayed for some 45 minutes.

The nurse was busy distributing medications to those who were in need, and so there were many around him. Pastor Kakuba was busy chatting to those who were around him.

And there I was, with even more around me. Though we did not have the luxury of a task at hand like the nurse. Nor did we have the luxury of a shared language or culture and therefore something to talk about like Pastor Kakuba.

No, we just all stood there. Now I did shake some hands, smiled lots of smiles, jostled with the boys as they dared each other to shake my hand.

But one can only smile at the same people for so long, greetings are meant for greetings, not 45 minute greet-fests. And so we did simply fall into silence for some minutes. I watching the soccer game, looking down the road, taking in whatever I could manage to find interest in.

And they continued to stand and stare.

And in those minutes, with time to think, I recalled how throughout my entire life I have always been stared at. (I don’t know if I really have always been stared at, but my experience of life and how it feels to me is that I have always been watched and looked at.) And there I was, in Uganda, in a remote village, the center of attention, with little to do but stand there and simply be the center of silent staring.

With stark recollection I realized how I had been prepared for that moment (and many more like them) my whole life. How I had been groomed so to speak, to receive the frank stares of others. For it did not bother me, having everyone round about staring. I didn’t feel uncomfortable, or claustrophobic or irritated.

I was simply glad to be there, they were glad to stare, and we got along famously.

After some time of the silence and the standing, I would feel the odd finger on my hair, as one of the gals reached out to see what my hair felt like. I turned, smiled, offered my head even more for her to touch, and then touched her hair. A funny exchange in many ways, but rapport and camaraderie that worked and warmed my heart.

Or the finger along my arm, feeling the ‘white’ to find of course, that it feels no different than their brown. And I was struck with how prepared I was for this kind of attention. How normal it actually felt to me, and how it didn’t bother me in the least.

A simple thing perhaps, this being okay with being stared at, but to me it is so much bigger than that. For as I have traveled to Africa there have been many many little things that I clearly recognize as small preparations and grooming to enter into this work; the freedom to be stared at just one of them.

The point is this. God does not call us into something without our being made ready for it. Our lives are in many ways like an orchestra, with years of numerous parts and some seemingly random experiences all adding up to one amazing piece of work.

We often hold back on certain works of our lives, for fear of not being ready. Just a little more preparation, a little more learning, a little more… something.

But we must remember that we are not the only one looking out for our journey’s. There is a co-author of our lives, one who knows so much more than you or I, and whose heart is all about preparing and making a way for us to enter into something bigger than us.

Whatever you are facing or looking ahead to, whatever you are journeying toward, trust that you have been prepared more than you will ever know.

Settle into a confidence that all the good the bad and the ugly of your life are key, and in fact gifts, to the rest of your journey.

Laid Bare

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P1320286 compressedEvery so often there are moments in our lives where there are intersections of sorts. We cannot see them coming, often don’t realize the occurrence when in the midst, and can barely put words to them on the back end.

I had one of these intersection ‘moments’ my last trip to Uganda. The whole trip was an intersection moment, and I’ve been pondering it ever since, and I’ll try to put some words to it today.

We go through life with a buffer system of sorts, ways of coping with our days and managing all that comes to us. It is a system that we rarely think of except in those times when it isn’t there.

For instance, have you ever been very ill, with not only your physical defenses down, but your emotional ones as well. Where everything is heightened and responses are that much more intense and critical, where sadness is that much deeper and comfort harder to come by.

This was my experience on my last trip. While you can read about the work of that trip HERE, the experience of being laid over with weakness was its own thing entirely.

While in that weakness came a deep work for the Lord for others, and in that weakness God had the most space to work, that same weakness facilitated a deep work in my own being.

So many things have shifted since that trip, I look back and will be forever grateful and thankful. With weakness laid over, I cried and cried on that trip, prayed and prayed, and with my innards stripped bare, laid every part of my life at the feet of the Lord.

I sat in sorrow, rested in silence, and walked in the moments. There was nothing else to do. I was simply there, and in that time and space some sort of earthquake deep within my being took place.

I can’t give all the particulars, but my kids lives are different after that trip, my own days are changed, and the outflow from deep inside has a different tenor.

And I think about how we so avoid these deep works. It obviously took me going to Uganda, allowing a weak space in service of others, with a stripping of all regular coping mechanisms, for the Lord to break through some deeply held constructs within my own being.

So why do we doggedly avoid the laid-bare places?

I recall a conversation I had with a fellow some years ago. He was intentionally not entering into an area of giftedness and a specific ministry because he knew he would come face to face with his pride. So instead of going forward and dealing with his inner stuff, he held back, refused the gifted ministry places, and consequently, hung onto his pride quite effectively.

The logic is off. But I think his candid decision marks a lot of us at times. We hold back from the gifted places and the intense ministries of heart and mind, because we do not want to confront our inner demons. We don’t want to find out what is lurking behind the shadows. Mediocrity and less-than serve us very well, thank-you very much.

It is no secret that giving of ourselves is the best way to personally grow. We cannot help but mature when we make our life about others and not ourselves. The fellow who avoided ministry and advocated self protection, personifies selfish living to the extreme. It might feel nicer, but nothing changes, growth isn’t given a chance, and no one is blessed. No one.

And the intersections whereby the Lord moves us, and where transformations take place, are ultimately rejected.

Rather than this sad scenario, go for the ministry, go for the gifted places, make space for intersections and deep movements. It won’t be nice, but it will be good. For as the writer of Proverbs says, “The one who blesses others is abundantly blessed; those who help others are helped.” 11:25

The weakness by which I was brought low, completely lifted off of me at Amsterdam airport. Halfway home I ‘was back’. Feeling strong and normal, but never the same. Thank-You God

Notorious

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P1260728 flipped compressedI heard my name.

It was a chilly, slightly rainy evening at Maama Bosa’s. The radio was on and through the (unintelligible to me) words came my name, ‘Cyndy’, more Ugandan, then the word ‘Muzunga’ (which is my second name in Africa, it means English or white Person), more Ugandan, and then the word ‘Canada’.

Cyndy + Muzunga + Canada

“They must be talking about me” I realized. Although through the dampened rainy evening, when even our thinking slowed down, it took me some time to absorb this concept.

But I’d been to the radio station on an earlier trip, and had even made a short commercial, “Hi I’m Cyndy from Canada and when I’m in Uganda I listen to…” My short burst of stardom!

I have no idea what the radio was announcing this time. I was there alongside local leaders hosting a three day conference and crusade in the town of Madudu, and the week after that we began a Bible School for rural pastors.

My day of arriving in Madudu brought immediate greetings. Still some miles away from my destination, a child called my name, “Cyynnddyy” as I passed on the boda-boda. In other words, I stand out everywhere I go in Africa, there is no blending in.

I mentioned to Maama Bosa how I’d been greeted by name some miles out and how tickled pink I was, and she replied that now I was ‘notorious’!

Not quite the way we like to use that word, but maybe it is closest to the truth!

My point in all of this, is how easy it is to make an impression and to make a difference in the world. And I have been reminded in these trips to Uganda (actually really got it for the first time), how much power we as individuals carry.

There is incredible power to encourage, to bless and to empower others, just by who we are in this world. We all have this available to us, and we all walk in it in various amounts every day. But we don’t all know it, and we are not very often intentional in it.

It all comes in the power of showing up, and of engaging a person, a gathering, a community.

This doesn’t have to happen across the seas, but it should be happening. And it can be happening. Right in your and my back yard.

It is time that more of us become notorious.

How might you be notorious today?

Where might you show up?

Positioning ourselves to bless others takes intentionality, it takes an ability to see a bigger picture than the one we live in each day, and it takes a risk to meet those we’ve not met before.

But positioning ourselves to bless others reaps incredible satisfactions and is in fact what save us from ourselves.

A life turned in becomes stagnant and dies an unnatural death. A life turned out, yields impact we will never be able to measure, and will never really understand.

I don’t know what the radio man was announcing that day in Uganda, but I am glad to be making a difference of some sort in this world. Will I ever really get what that is? No, I won’t. We never do.

And you won’t either. The impact you are making, you won’t really ever understand. But trust me, it is significant. So keep walking, become notorious, and allow the satisfactions of simply showing up, spur you on.

Forward ho, God-speed ahead.

A Better Way

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P1320123 compressedOn my last trip to Uganda, I left money for the sponsorship of a young man as he finishes his schooling.

Living with his Grandma who is a widow, and without a Father to provide for him, I am glad to relieve his worry about funds for school, so that he might simply focus on his studies.

I have seen and understood that the opportunity to spend very little money ensures an education and best advantage going forward for many in developing nations. But I’ve also seen the backside of sponsoring.

While kid needs education, food and clothes, school supplies and maybe a pair of shoes, sponsorship has also crippled the people. And so, though I am personally sponsoring a young man as he finishes his eduction, I am also riddled with mixed emotions as to the long-term effects overall.

I find the tell-tale signs in many of the adults. Those who are used to western money being spent on an entire countries welfare, used to western money being the solution and the way. The only way.

In many ways, the biggest work in Africa that I have encountered, is this tunnel vision that cannot see its way past the need for western money. An idolatry of sorts, the vision of the people has been foreshortened and nearsighted.

“Sponsorship is the only answer” is the mantra of the many.

Yet, this simply isn’t so. As a coach I know that there are always solutions outside of our line of vision. Always.

That just behind the blinders are answers that, until the blinders are removed, we cannot see or imagine.

Do we want the blinders, or the solutions? We can have one or the other, but not both.

I certainly don’t know what the answer is. But I am pretty sure it is time to change the way we are doing things.

The conversations that I have been following from Africa are telling as well. They themselves are seeing that in light of 50 years of western aid and literally billions and billions of dollars, that they, the people and nations are little further ahead than before, “It is time to get our stuff together” they say.

‘How might we assist in building of a sense of sufficiency within a people?’ is most likely the question to be asking. And certainly what we at Capturing Courage International are intent on discovering.

A Better Way

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questions about educationOn my last trip to Uganda, I left money for the sponsorship of a young man as he finishes his schooling.

Living with his Grandma who is a widow, and without a Father to provide for him, I am glad to relieve his worry about funds for school, so that he might simply focus on his studies.

I have seen and understood that the opportunity to spend very little money ensures an education and best advantage going forward for many in developing nations. But I’ve also seen the backside of sponsoring.

While kid needs education, food and clothes, school supplies and maybe a pair of shoes, sponsorship has also crippled the people. And so, though I am personally sponsoring a young man as he finishes his eduction, I am also riddled with mixed emotions as to the long-term effects overall.

I find the tell-tale signs in many of the adults. Those who are used to western money being spent on an entire countries welfare, used to western money being the solution and the way. The only way.

In many ways, the biggest work in Africa that I have encountered, is this tunnel vision that cannot see its way past the need for western money. An idolatry of sorts, the vision of the people has been foreshortened and nearsighted.

“Sponsorship is the only answer” is the mantra of the many.

Yet, this simply isn’t so. As a coach I know that there are always solutions outside of our line of vision. Always.

That just behind the blinders are answers that, until the blinders are removed, we cannot see or imagine.

Do we want the blinders, or the solutions? We can have one or the other, but not both.

I certainly don’t know what the answer is. But I am pretty sure it is time to change the way we are doing things.

The conversations that I have been following from Africa are telling as well. They themselves are seeing that in light of 50 years of western aid and literally billions and billions of dollars, that they, the people and nations are little further ahead than before, “It is time to get our stuff together” they say.

‘How might we assist in building of a sense of sufficiency within a people?’ is most likely the question to be asking. And certainly what we at Capturing Courage International are intent on discovering.

Surrender

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journeying in UgandaIt was one of my first days in Madudu. I was with Pastor Kakuba and we were making our way down the road, stopping at different homes to encourage and pray for folks and to bring some medicines to those in need.

There was something lovely about stopping at a home where I had on an earlier trip prayed for a Mamma and unborn baby, and to this time stop and meet that new little one.

Something lovely about stopping at the home of a woman whom loves me and whom I love. Sitting with her on her mat, enjoying a short visit of simply being in each others company, communicating by heart and through our eyes and smiles.

From home to home we went.

I cannot adequately describe the beauty and joy on the faces of the elderly as we pulled up to their homes and entered to visit and pray for a time. By now a number of these elderly faces are familiar, but even more familiar are the individual spirits of each person.

I recognize the light in those eyes, and the broad smile of that one, the gracious heart of yet another. And into these spaces that they hold for me, I enter, am welcomed, settle in and rest. It is deep communion with one another.

One dear old woman, before we left, skittered away for a moment to return with money to press into my hand. And with my heart in my throat, and my inside voice screaming ‘No! you keep the money’, I simply accepted it and gave a heartfelt thank-you.

A widow with little to live on, managing day to day… there are no words.

Farther down the road we stopped at a home in the ‘center’ of many others. As we would travel the calls of greeting, “Mazungu” would echo along and often it seemed that people were aware of our coming before we actually arrived.

Regardless of how, at this ‘center’ home it was the same. Within minutes of our feet touching the ground, there was a crowd of young and old alike.

A large mat was spread on the ground and onto this mat the people began kneeling that I might pray over them. Not everyone of course, but simply those who wanted.

(Note: Lately I’ve been dissatisfied with our word ‘prayer’. For it does not capture near well enough, the act of blessing and of pouring on of love and of declaring peace over another.)

Many came and went, and as I remained, kneeling on the mat while Pastor Kakuba spoke with others, and while the doctor gave out the medicines to still more, a little one knelt.

She was about eight years old. Was wrapped in a shawl around her head and over her shoulders. Covered, but not covered enough to hide all the mud markings over her entire body and head and face.

Those markings indicate a sort of satan worship, and one can only imagine all the evil and horrors she has seen and witnessed, as accompanied with that.

But there she knelt. Quietly yet simply stating by action, ‘Please pray for me’.

The motion of her kneeling and waiting, held a regal strength and a firmness of conviction and a dignity that spoke, ‘You have something I need.’

I really don’t have the words to describe that moment, but I do know I will never forget her.

For in her there was the full symbolic struggle between the things of this earth that are only about destruction and horror, and within the heart a plea for things of heaven that are of life and bounty and peace.

She knew this struggle. She knew what she was asking for, most likely more than all the others. Her body language was marked by humility and simple request and a surrender.

It was simply an honor to pray over her. And I will keep praying over her. She has a long battle ahead of her. Being so young, and with influence unto destruction in the adults around her, it won’t be easy by any means.

But I’ll see her in heaven one day. For she asked, and received. For at the core of accepting Christ is surrender. Pure simple surrender.

(postscript: To explain the context and the magnitude of this child’s actions, it is important for me to explain that children in Uganda do not come forward for anything on their own. There is not this initiative or boldness or clarity to ask for anything. Even now, years after the encounter with this girl moves me deeply).

With Space for Strength

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strength in people“We are glad to seem weak if it helps show that you are actually strong.”

This is a Bible verse found in 2 Corinthians 13:9 and is really the theme of my last trip to Uganda.

I’d come across this verse a week-plus before the trip, and I knew it was to be the theme, I just never knew how hard it would be.

Being weak is not easy.

Thing is, standing in strength that appears weak, is in fact part of the space that we are determined to hold at Capturing Courage. For the express purpose that the people we are standing alongside, might know they are strong.

The plan for this trip was to bring a Conference and Crusade to the people in Madudu, Uganda. Then following up on that with a couple of weeks of Pastor Training.

The first ‘weakness’ became apparent before I left – we were not taking enough money to cover the Conference and Crusade; we contributed only 22% of the necessary funds.

I was excited about this, as I knew in my gut that God was up to something, and that we were going to see some mighty work. I just didn’t realize how very brutal it would be in the middle of it.

There may not be many things worse than watching the last of the food being dished out, and with some still needing to eat; the disappointment and disbelief and frustration and anger spreading across faces, with frantic digging through pots to find those stray sweet potatoes hidden amongst the banana leaves. With the lead guy exclaiming, “I followed your advice and now we don’t have enough!”

– We will appear weak so that you might know yourself strong –

Nothing worse than figuring we must cut the conference short a day, disappointing about 300 attendees, and swallowing our pride, and more in the process.

Nothing worse than maintaining that space of ‘God will do something’ and therefore I myself or Capturing Courage, refuse to do anything, “We will not fix this.. ”

– We will appear weak so that you might know yourself strong –

And strength came through. After hours (days) of crushing pressure and disillusionment in the unknown, refusing to lift a finger to ‘make anything better’ other than to pray and pray, that strength came.

It was presented to the people the state of things. That yes I was there to help sponsor, but not all the way. That yes we had food yesterday (barely), and yes we have food enough for today’s lunch, but after that, we are done and everyone will have to go home.

BUT – “If you as the people want to contribute, the conference can go on another day as planned.”

And into a basket went donation after donation, with the people raising over 400K Ugandan shillings, some $200 Canadian. Enough for the rest of the Conference.

Sufficiency

A knowing for them that they are strong, they can do this, it doesn’t all depend on money from the west.

Amen and amen.

This was the work, the real work. Sure I spoke a few times, prayed over a few folk, blessed on the young and old alike, took some medicines to the sick, encouraged the leaders and visited with many, but the real work this time, was holding this space.

– We will appear weak so that you might know yourself strong –

I didn’t call any shots, simply held the space.

From deep within my person living out my rock-solid belief that the people themselves are strong and sufficient and capable of making things happen.

That Sponsors are not the answer. Strength from outside themselves is not the answer. They carry strength and sufficiency deep within. I was determined to prove this, by doing next to nothing, to fix anything.

It was oh so painful, and oh so amazing.

The deepest works of our lives are like this I’m thinking. Where there is not much to show in the midst, but much to look back at and see.

Holding spaces is something we all do. With some spaces such that we wouldn’t want to enter them, and other spaces such that we are ever-after never the same. Some spaces are destructive, others build us.

What kind of spaces are you holding for others?

Without Wifi

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when things don't go as plannedWell, so much for ‘follow my trip on my blog idea. No Wifi for an entire two weeks ensured that there would be no blogs; there would be no emails, no updated ADVANCE, and no connections with family other than scattered and very short phone calls.

But I’m home now, and catching up. Phew!

It’s the middle of the night in Vancouver, Canada, but my body is still on Uganda time, so here I write – as it is really the middle of the day – wink, wink.
There was a strange feeling of entering another land once I truly realized I would be without Wifi. For starters, time slid by oh so slowly. And while I did manage to add another 30k words to the rough start of a book I’ve been working on, it truly took me a few days to settle into the fact that I was not going to be online for some time (and to stop even trying).

A friend awhile back had mentioned that nothing works in Africa. This trip, I got to experience this full-on.

I had made all the necessary preparations. I’d budgeted for the wifi modem for my computer, budgeted for the generator necessary to keep my ‘machines’ charged and topped-up ready. And I had my Ugandan phone with airtime all set to head off to the village.

But things didn’t go as planned. I’ve lost track of the exact rhythm of mislaid plans, but it goes something like this.

First day in, the computer runs out of power.

We wait on the generator to arrive.

I have the generator, but it needs petrol (gas in Ugandan English).

We wait on the petrol to be fetched.

We have petrol and the generator runs for a tiny bit, and then dies.

Oh, we need oil.

We wait on the oil to be fetched.

The oil arrives, we can charge one thing at a time (I only have one adapter, note for next time: bring three adapters on a trip) and it takes 5 hours and $5 of petrol to charge my computer.

The day is now gone, my computer is charged but the phone is not, and we wait for another day.

Another day arrives, but the boys are at the garden. We wait for them to come home later in the day so they can begin the generator.

The generator won’t start today – send for the technician.

Meanwhile, I work on my writing, and get a lot done, but the computer is now out of power once more.

– Repeat in alternating and various order for every day of my stay –

With my phone it was much the same:

I have airtime, but there is no network in the village half of the time, due to storms and cloud cover.

Oh the network is on, and I make a few short calls home just to say I am alive and well.

I run out of airtime.

Next day we go searching for airtime, but cannot find the kind I have in the village.

A few days later, we switch networks, and get new airtime.

But now my phone is not charged any longer.

I wait on the generator, (see the story about the computer), and a few days goes by.

My phone is now charged, but no one knows my new number.

And now the network is down.

Another day or two or three passes… with about 12 hours in-between each of these things… truly I tell no lie.

There is no way to exaggerate these delays and difficulties.

The point of all this: I don’t know.

What I do know though, is that for me, it was a gift. A tedious gift, but a gift nonetheless. And though my blog readership is down for this month (nothing to read after all), and though I must catch up on emails (that I am still afraid to open and process), two weeks offline did its work in my heart and life.

Though this trip was a bit of a blurr and it will take me some time to process it all, I know there was some deep work done. Both in my life, my kids lives, and in the life of Capturing Courage International, and for the work and people there in Madudu.

Somehow, the time spent in hours of heart depths and inner thoughts rendered well, with prayers and pleas for many, I am pretty sure that the hours and hours without, will prove to in fact be, hours and hours invested; a turning point that I will look back on and be forever grateful.

I can feel it, I just can’t all the way explain it.

But I do know, that when things don’t go as planned (despite our best planning), that there is usually something better in the mix.

So in (best that I could manage) casual African style I settled in and rolled with the punches, and despite my driver personality, (or maybe because of my driver personality) still managed to come out of the slowest whirlwind of my existence, with something to show for it.

(I feel like I’m babbling, and most likely am, lets just blame it on the jet-lag, and trust that you just might get something from this post for yourself.)

If nothing else, remember, that when things don’t go well, there are still gifts to be gleaned in the mix. Dig for gold baby, it’ll be there!