Zambia 2014

(originally posted 5/16/14 after my second Zambia trip)

Impact

I was asked to write a piece on what type of impact was made on our trip- insert awkward turtles. I have no problem talking about how I feel or how I have been impacted, but I don’t like to say how I think other people are feeling. It’s awkward. I also do not like any kind of power imbalances. Inequality pushes me over the edge. The idea that anyone could ever be more important than anyone else or have more rights than anyone else just makes me mad. In some ways, ok most ways, I felt like we were treated like movie stars. Some kids even thought we were movie stars. We're white. We're “rich.” We're AMERICANS! Being looked at this way absolutely makes me cringe.

Our beautiful, fierce and fabulous team of women.

Here are a few examples of when I felt this power imbalance-and what I learned from it.

During church, one of the pastors offered that the American women would pray over any of the Zambian women who would like prayers. After the service I had a woman- probably in her sixties, ask me to pray for her because “she couldn’t pray.” She didn’t speak English so we used another woman to translate and I am still not sure if I understood her correctly, but she said she just couldn’t do, she lost her words anytime she tried to speak. Meanwhile, we were speaking…I reassured her that God does know her heart and he does hear her prayers even if she does not speak them out loud. She looked doubtful, but I had her repeat after me while we prayed and showed her that yes, in fact she could pray. Overall she made me feel uncomfortable. It was as if she believed I could talk to God on her behalf, and he could hear her if I was talking for her, but not if she was talking for herself. It breaks my heart to think she might see her worth that way.

The Baptist church we went to on our second week and met with the women of the congregation.

During the conference for counseling children in Ndola, our team members split up into individual tables to help facilitate discussion among the attendees. There was one table of three men that I honestly said to myself-I will take any table but that one. I felt threatened by them, I am not sure why. Lo and behold, that was the table I magically ended up at J They were so kind, so eager to have me at their table and to translate for me when necessary. They treated me like I was their daughter and they loving called me “sister.” The man to my left, Paul, became protective of me and made sure I got all of our pens and markers back that we had set out on the table to share (some other attendees were carefully slipping markers into their bags when no one was looking). We had a great time dancing and singing together during worship, it was a joy to share this experience with them.

 I couldn’t help but notice that two of my table mates, now pastors, continually talked about how they used to be drunks and do “terrible things” until they found Jesus. They seemed to be seeking my approval and Paul repeatedly talked of how incredible, kind, and generous Americans are. He really thought we were saints. Insert: feelings of incongruence, guilt, shame. I began to shake my head and explained to Paul that while we may be rich materially, we don’t come close to the generosity, connectedness, and spirituality of the men and women I have met in Zambia. And because I can have a problem with oversharing, I let Paul know I have done some pretty terrible things myself in my life, and I am still a daughter of the King. I am not sure what he thought of this, but I hope he felt some relief. I did.

 A few hours later, we had a grieving ceremony where we were all invited to light tea light candles in the center of our tables in memory of loved ones who have passed on and talk about the legacy they have left for us. We read some scripture and the footprints in the sand poem before the ceremony. Paul began at our table by lighting a few candles and sharing that all four of his children and all of his siblings have passed on-without shedding a single tear. As he passed the box of matches to me, and as I listened to “Bless the Lord O my soul, O my soul, worship His holy name… (10,000 reasons by Matt Redman), I broke down. Recently one of my best friends, with the most beautiful heart, lost her younger sister. My heart hurts for the Williams family. I pulled out an inspiration tag I made in memory of Halie Kay and shared how I will strive to feel every emotion completely and to love endlessly, without limits to continue Halie’s legacy.

Meanwhile, I couldn’t hold myself together. This was a difficult moment for me; I wrestled with the idea and expectation that I was supposed to be here for my table as a strong source of support and to help them grieve, but instead they were trying their hardest to comfort me. They shared their favorite verses with me (1 Corn 15; John 5:24, Psalm 23-also one of my favorites) and prayed over the Williams family for me. Paul continually said, “sister no more tears, she is with Jesus, there is nothing to be afraid of.” Paul has placed his entire world of trust in God to meet his needs and to comfort him with each loss. He explained that as long as he has a best friend in Christ, he has everything in the world and he will see his loved ones again very soon. One of the attendees lead us in worship and it felt like a weight lifted off of my shoulders. What a healing experience. What a blessing.

In some ways, I think that my outward display of emotion impacted these men. I allowed them to see me openly grieve (not like I controlled that, though) and I think it gave them permission to see me as an equal, another human with a heart. I hope I was able to build up their confidence as I shared with them how eternally grateful I was for their support and kindness.

My tablemates

I think sometimes we get caught up in the day-to-day tinnie-tiny differences and growth that is being made and we forget to see the impact we are having on a grand scale. Ridgepoint sponsors over 75 kids. The money for sponsorship allows children to pay their school fees and there is also some left over for food/investment for the family to use. An average family has 7 members. 75 kids x 6 other family members = 450 people. Ridgepoint works with the Jubilee Center, where the mission is to be the Salt and Light of the Earth. Jubilee works with 94 churches from Lusaka to Ndola. I don’t know what the average church population is, but if I had to guess I would think it would be at least 150. 94 churches x 150 members is 14,100 people. In the churches we visited, most also had “cell groups” and “support groups” that do bible study and that visit the sick and needy. One church out of those 94 churches that Jubilee Center works with has a volunteer system of over 100 volunteers that care for over 900 people who are sick with HIV, TB, or a combination of the two. They are literally the hands and feet of Jesus, caring for the needy. These volunteers have their own families too and many of them are HIV positive themselves. How many people are being served in Zambia as a direct result of the Jubilee Center? Or of any Christian organization?

If you were the only human being on the planet, Jesus would still die for your sins. You don’t need to be a part of a large statistic; you are worth his grace and love all by yourself. Each of these Zambian children and adults are just as worthy.

I cannot write one entry on the impact we may have had on Zambia or the impact Zambia will forever have on me. I could write a whole book-that is, if the readers would be ok with my random tangents and thoughts-I am not too good at organizing or censoring my thoughts. These are the things you can’t measure. These are the lessons and blessings that can only be experienced. When you feel like your heart is so close to Heaven as you hear beautiful voices singing hymns in another language-you don’t know the words, but you can just hear the emotion and the TRUST. That’s precious. When the same table of men who terrified me were staring into my soul praying that I would feel peace, that’s irreplaceable.

My hope is that this experience will allow me to love more deeply, to feel emotions more strongly, and to have continued trust in God each day that His will will be done in my life. I pray that sharing my journey so candidly will allow others to open up and feel it in the same way. I am confident that I will continue to have a renewed sense of purpose and passion for my interactions with families-adoptive, biological, foster, whoever. The alternative to living life with this much passion is so empty, so void of meaning.

 Thanks for being a part of my journey.

Blessings,

Mavis