A glimpse of heaven—that’s what I found in the dust
of Ethiopia. In the midst of the stench of poverty, heaven rained down on my
feeble heart.
I didn’t want to go. Fear, my faithful friend, won
the reigns of my mind yet again. And I fought going with every excuse
imaginable. What about the kids…the house…the timing…the finances…All valid
excuses. But when God is moving, it’s always best to join in the flow rather
than fight his current. That didn’t stop me from fighting, though. I’ve
actually become quite a proficient fighter. If only I could fight the enemy with
the same passion that I fight my God.
So much to my chagrin, I found myself on the dusty
soil of Ethiopia. The place my husband calls home—the farthest place I could
imagine from my home. And it was here that the scales from my human eyes fell
away. It wasn’t the beautiful landscape, although it was there in abundance. It
wasn’t the amazing purpose I felt while I was there, although I will admit I
felt more alive than I’ve felt in years. No, it was something completely unexpected that opened my eyes.
If
fear is what holds us captive, then it’s always love that sets us free.
I planned for a lot of things for this trip. I
planned for preventing malaria. I planned for stopping diarrhea. I planned for
the weather, the time-change, and the food. I did not plan to fall in love.
But fall in love I did.
How do you describe what it feels like to be greeted
by 20,000 people? People who don’t know you, but are desperate just to shake
your hand. People so grateful for the good news of grace, they walk for days to
celebrate what God has done. They sleep
on the grass and sit for hours, watching with exhilaration the culmination of
God’s promise. Smiles so big, you melt in their warmth.
The dedication of a Bible school brought 21
Americans to Ethiopia. The dedication of a Bible school brought 20,000
Ethiopians to the small town of Yirgachafe. But it was love that brought us
together. A love that is so deep, it reaches into the depths of our sinfulness.
A love so wide, it covers the chasm our hopelessness. A love so high, it rains
down healing for our brokenness.
That’s what happened on the dusty roads of Ethiopia.
Rain poured down in the middle of the dry season. Rain poured down on weary
hearts, regardless of the color of our faces. Heaven met earth with a sweet, intoxicating kiss. But this is only a taste. It's only the beginning. The feast is yet to come.
If we’ve stopped believing in a God of miracles, it
isn’t because He doesn’t exist. It’s because we can’t see Him in our busyness
and selfishness. A God of miracles demands our attention, but we’re too busy
looking at ourselves, our problems, our dreams, and our disappointments. Or maybe
we’re just simply too scared. We get comfortable in our captivity. Fear becomes
our friend. Freedom means action. Freedom means moving out of the shadows and
into the Light. But what if we like the shadows?
A glimpse of heaven—that’s what I found in Ethiopia.
And with new eyes, I’m home again with my kids, my house, my time, and my
finances. To believe in a God of miracles, it requires my attention. If I’m
looking somewhere else, I will miss what He is doing. Will I succumb to my fear
once more? Will I continue to fight against God, or will I engage in the battle
for truth?
What do I do with what I’ve seen?
Well, I guess you’ll just have to stay tuned to find
out!
