justice.

“…restoring justice to children and the poorest of the poor” is the mission of the organization I work for.

Justice isn’t just a good guy vs. bad guy legal term that is determined in a courtroom with lawyers and judges. One dictionary describes justice as “fairness or reasonableness, especially in the way people are treated or decisions are made”.

Sometimes justice means communities are supplied with access to clean water, because nobody should have to die of thirst. Sometimes justice means educating kids and empowering them with them a sense of purpose, because they’ve been witness to countless abuses to humanity and they may not know how much purpose theyhold within themselves. Sometimes justice means taking a young girl out of a bad situation in order to love her, give her a glimpse of hope for her future, and teach her that although the world has abused her, she matters. Her existence is meaningful to the Life of the world. And sometimes it means inspiring a disillusioned power on the bridge of corruption that their contribution to their community and the world is needed. Their wisdom should be shared, and their hard work brings life to those it touches. And sometimes justice means freeing people from the slavery that is still so prevalent in this world we live in.

Kindness, goodness, generosity, love, joy, peace, patience, self-control. The author of a book called Galatians teaches that against such things there is no law. But I'm learning that in most places, there is no law that protects, inspires, or teaches such things. Nonetheless, there is always a place for such things – such things encapsulate justice. And there is always a place for this thing we call justice.

Back to Uganda

I have just returned to Uganda – for those of you I haven't talked to in a long time, I'll be here this time for a year.

I was surprised when I landed. Surprised at how familiar everything looked, sounded…smelled. From the plane, the landscape greeted me with a colorful smile. The earth is deep red, the thick bush, green. The sky – more enormous here than I've ever noticed…blue. The yellow sun magnifies it all. It sounds simple yes, but it's as though when God painted the earth He dropped a bit more paint in this part of the world, and the color is so rich you can't help but stare as you take it all in. As you step off the plane, the air grabs you with its warm stickiness, like an old friend embracing you with a hug.

I starred out the window of my car silently, taken aback at how much peace was in my heart. I really didn't expect it to feel so much like home…home for now at least. As I've mentioned before, I am learning that no place on earth may ever feel 100% like home. However, I know that I am exactly where God wants me now. I don't know long it will be Uganda, but I'm ok with not knowing. Kidogo, kidogo…little by little.

I don't think I've ever made a New Year's Resolution. But I did this year. My resolution – to floss. Don't laugh, I'm serious. But it's a little deeper than my dental hygiene. It denotes attention to detail and purity. On the surface I want to do all the things we Americans want at the beginning of each new year. But more than that, below my shallowness, I hope to take in more of life happening around me. I want to be as aware of each person in my life, more sensitive and compassionate to my neighbors. I want to notice strangers, and look into their eyes. I know I'll never understand it all. And the old cliché rings true…the more you learn, the more you realize you don't know. It turns out though, not understanding might not be as heartbreaking as I once thought. I hope to embrace the challenge of pressing forward, even though I don't understand why things happen, or how some issues could actually be resolved. Even if sometimes it means that I'm walking blindly – holding on to nothing that I know or comprehend. But I hope to keep walking nonetheless.

As I contemplate where I am, compare it to where I was a year ago, and wonder what this year beholds…I pray you are Touched in a new way this year.
May you be full of…brokenness that leads you to joy,
May you be full of…forgiveness that leads you to healing,
May you be full of…humility that leads you to love,
May you be full of…love that leads you to faith,
May you be full of…truth that leads you to laugh because you are free.

And may you never be comfortable because your heart is always being stirred to something increasingly wonderful.

Happy New Year.

some thoughts on some things

I'm beginning to understand how true it is, that we may never quite "feel" at home while we are here on earth…no matter where we're from, nor where faith takes us. I feel somewhat settled here in Uganda, yet at the same time somewhat unsettled that it's starting to feel like a home here. I recently learned that I'll be here for at least another year working for Restore International – I'm both thrilled and scared. Not terrified, not full of fear, but a little uneasy about being gone for another year only because I do not know what it means for my life. I mean, I can't imagine my life any other way – I can't imagine doing anything else, I absolutely love my job. I guess there are just so many uncertainties. At the same time that I feel scared about what it means, there is a freedom in not worrying about it – in truly being able to say to God that I'm His and He can use me in any way He wants, for whatever He wants, for however long He wants to. Reckless abandonment is how Brennan Manning puts it. I'm not sure if I'm truly recklessly abandoned – but I hope to be one day. Kidogo kidogo – is Swahili, for little by little. I've repeated this phrase shamelessly over the last month. I've been forced to slow down, things are slow here, but in typical American fashion I'm just as busy as ever. As fatigue sets in, I have no choice but to really look inward and upward. So many unresolved issues still haunt my heart. So many uncried tears are surfacing as I try to process the things I've seen these last 6 months. I don't understand any of it – so much of what I've seen and come to realize does not make sense to me – and it hurts. It hurts to see people hurt. It hurts to see people suffer. It hurts to feel helpless in a situation that is so overwhelming. It hurts to encounter the hopeless…to search in the eyes of someone, and not see a glimmer of hope.

It hurts to be taken advantage of, but I don't blame them. It hurts to realize how cynical I've become…always on guard, trusting few, and constantly expecting that I'll be tricked, somehow. It's a horrible lens to view people through. I feel like as much as I've been deceived, I'm also deceiving b/c of what is going on in my head when someone is talking to me these days. I suppose this is part of the learning curve, I've heard that it's a natural process. I'm told I will always be viewed as a foreigner who is "rich". This reality is tough to swallow, though likely not as tough as the reality that drives people to hopelessness.

I know there is a Greater Reality, but I must admit I sometimes forget.

At the same time I'm processing these strange things, I'm surrounded by beauty – and I'm not so disenchanted that I can't see that the beauty is all around me. People are amazing in their resilience to the beatings of the world. I'm learning of this resilience too. People are beautiful in their suffering, perhaps b/c their vulnerability is exposed, masks removed, and authenticity shines. I'm learning about joy. It is hard enough for me to comprehend my first hand experience, much less explain via email, the transformation I've witnessed in the girls we've rescued. Its best described as a resurrection – they literally come back to life – and I've had the unanticipated privilege to witness this. Empty eyes turn to dancing wells of the laughter incessantly bubbling from somewhere deep within. Angry stares turn to contagious smiles. The voiceless become an earful, a constant earful of chatter, whimsical nonsense, and endless praise. Really, it may sound as though I'm painting an idealistic picture – how could a girl who's been raped, abused, abandoned, used and left to die turn into one of these joyful creations I'm describing? I ask myself the same thing almost everyday, I don't get it either. If you ask one of them, they'll tell you without hesitation that it all can be attributed to Love, to Grace, to Mercy. Or how about the lady who cleans my house? She's a widow with 7 children minus one who died. Her husband and son died in the same year, one from HIV/AIDS and one from a disease Americans haven't had to worry about for half a century. She left her village to come to Kampala to raise 6 children on her own b/c her late husband's family took everything they owned and tried to marry off her 13 year old daughter. She too is HIV positive, yet comes to work faithfully, always on time, greets me with a shy childlike smile…and works harder and with more joy than most people I've encountered.

There is so much I don't understand. I'm unsure about a lot of things. Not unsure of God's existence, but unsure of what His existence looks like in my life. Not unsure of salvation, or grace, or mercy. But what do these things look like – from the outside in. I'm not making sense. I guess my question really is... what does it mean to be a Christian? I could answer in all the shallow ways we learn at Sunday school, but it would leave me unsatisfied.

I know God loves the world... perhaps, it's just that simple.

My experience has only begun.
There is much more to learn, so much more to see. More suffering, more questions, more to not understand.

And there is more beauty, more joy, more authenticity, more grace, more mercy and more love.

I look forward to the journey.

can't sleep.

I tried to go to bed an hour ago I took a shower, cleaned my room, got in bed. But I can't sleep. I can not stop thinking about a couple of stories I heard today...

A young girl, abandoned by her parents and living with her grandmother was getting help from a teacher after school one day. He raped her. At age 13 this was her first sexual encounter. Her grandmother didnt believe her story, so she left to live with her uncle. Unable to care for her, he married her off and she before long was pregnant with her first child. After giving birth to her third child by age 16, she left because she was tired of being abused at home. Succumbing to the need to survive, she became a prostitute.

Next was the story of a young girl whose parents died when she was 13. She was raped by an ex-soldier on the street. She got pregnant at age 14 and dropped out of school to take care of her and her baby. She too wound up on the streets, selling her body in order to survive.

One young girl was found, gang raped, beaten and left on the road to die.

And the newest edition to our family is pregnant because her "client" refused to use protection. She is 13 years old.

Tonight I read through 12 more files on girls just like this. All with similar stories.

This month we launched a partnership with a Ugandan organization that rescues and rehabilitates child prostitutes. Its called Rahab Project and our vision is to restore hope in seemingly hopeless lives by taking these girls into a home and loving them with all we have. They no longer have to kill themselves in order to survive. We plan to house them, feed them, counsel them, educate them and love them as best as we can.

We have about 17 girls, the youngest in 9 the oldest is 24. They are our family now.
This business is heart wrenching. The more I learn the more disgusted I become with the atrocities people suffer. I cry with each girl as they re-live their past in order to share their stories. But you know what touches me most with these kids? Their resilience. I've shared with you guys already, how incredible my encounters with suffering people have been. Well it continues as I meet each of our girls and try to learn what it is that gets their hearts pumping, what feeds their faith, gives them strength, makes them smile. They are growing, and learning, and recovering.

They have hope - it oozes from their souls - and touches mine.