Remembering...

I remember one night, feeling absolutely overcome with fear. I was alone on the compound except for the guard, and the reality of evil and darkness felt too close. I played Kristene Mueller's "Praise the Lord" over and over and over again until I finally didn't feel afraid anymore.

I remember waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of the death horn. There, whenever someone died in the community, a person would walk the streets blowing a trumpet and yelling the name of the person that had just passed.

I remember watching my neighbors wail over the dead body of their young son. A man carried the boy, wrapped in a sheet, back and forth in front of the family. The mother just screamed and screamed and screamed.

I can't keep these memories away. I rejoice that God gave me Africa. I praise Him because of what I've seen--not because it was always joyful, but because I gained perspective. I can't forget it. I won't forget it.

My first encounter with Andrew Murray

I am FINALLY reading Andrew Murray's Abide in Christ thanks to my beloved friend and devoted follower, Sarah Edmundson. Read this tonight:

"Who would, after seeking the King's palace, be content to stand in the door, when he is invited in to dwell in the King's presence, and share with Him in all glory of His royal life? Oh, let us enter in and abide, and enjoy to the full all the rich supply His wondrous love hath prepared for us!"

I'm reminded that fellowship with Christ, our Savior, shouldn't be determined by circumstance; it should be a moment by moment awareness of His presence.