Still

I started my day watching the sun come up from behind Mount Legogote, inhaling the spicy steam of my cup of coffee and being still. 

Still isn't my favourite posture; I'd rather be working or cooking or dancing round the kitchen. 

But still is something I've had to learn (and not necessarily by choice). And to be honest, it's teaching me a lot. It's teaching me not to strive for things so completely in my own efforts. It's teaching me that stubbornness can be both my greatest asset and my biggest flaw. It's teaching me that having a Mary heart in a Martha world is a constant choice. And sometimes I get it right, but sometimes I don't. 

I’ve been thinking a lot about desert places, not least because today is our Hands Global Day of Prayer and Fasting for the drought that has ravaged so many of the communities we work in across Africa. In many ways, the last little while has felt like a desert season. I’ve had to leave Zambia and go through a seemingly endless rotation of doctors, physio and chiropractors. It certainly wasn’t how I’d envisaged spending the last month. I haven’t been able to work, and have spent the vast majority of time getting very well acquainted with various different concrete or tiled floors. 

But God so often uses the desert seasons to draw us away, to speak to the depths of our souls the things that we busy ourselves too much to hear. And so in a very strange way, I’m so incredibly thankful for the season I’m finding myself in. It’s an exercise in patience and trust and in swallowing the pride that I cloak in independence. It’s an open invitation to get away and discover what real rest looks like (Matt. 11:28 in the Message puts it far better than I ever could).

And so here in South Africa, it’s well with my soul. Because of who my God is, because of the beautiful family he has called me into, and because I trust that he absolutely knows what he’s doing in this season (even if I don’t). I believe that he is a faithful father who delights in giving good gifts to his children. I am convinced of the power of prayer, to bring healing, to bring life, to bring water to the spiritual and physical dryness we so often experience. So please, join with me as we pray for Africa’s most vulnerable today, believing that God can and will bring change. 

There’s a prayer guide available here

I was on the road before it was light this morning, heading down to Kabwe. As the sun came up, blazing orange in a wispy, pale blue sky, I began to see the demo fields planted by the seed manufacturers that we're driving by. The maize in its furrows is brown and crisp, hanging limp in defeat. This green drought has left such a huge mark. And it's not just affecting Zambia. The whole of sub-Sharan Africa is feeling it. In Swaziland, food prices have increased 60%, and in Malawi it's up to 73%. Take a moment and imagine if your weekly shop at the grocery store had increased that much. How long could you hold out? What would you have to give up to make sure there was food on the table? 

I see a boy walking alone by the side of the road, his thin arms wrapped around his waist in an attempt to keep his body heat in. His gaze catches mine as we drive past, and I want to be able to stop; to ask his name and whether there's anyone that knows where he is, or cares. 

I spend my day in meetings, talking about the communities in Kabwe we support, and more than 600 children that that represents. But I'm still thinking about that one little boy in the green shorts that I saw this morning. The difference between him and the children I spent my day focusing on is that someone does know their names. They have Care Workers who give of themselves to provide parental care to the most vulnerable children in their community. 

But these communities are suffering under the drought too. Food prices are increasing here, and some of our communities are likely to be without any accessible source of water within the 5 months. 

Please don't just disregard all of this because it's happening thousands of miles away from your front door. Listen to what's happening in other countries, and check out Hands at Work for ways in which you can get involved. 

Droughts, Power Outages and the Wall Street Journal

It’s not often that the places we work in make the global news. And mostly I’m grateful for that, because it means that we’re not in the middle of a war zone, or the centre of a political scandal. But that doesn’t mean that there aren’t things happening here that deserve to get reported or shared with the rest of the world. 

On March 4th, the Wall Street Journal wrote an article on the state of Zambia’s economic and social situation. You can find it here. 

Read it? Surprised by what you learnt? It’s strange seeing an article in such a well-respected publication that references the mall where I do my groceries, or the market where I buy my fabric from. 

I’d like to be able to tell you that this article is sensationalising the situation in Zambia; to tell you that people like Grace Kunda, whose husband killed himself with pesticide because of the hopelessness of losing his livelihood don’t really live here. But I can’t do that, because that wouldn’t be the truth. 

Instead, I want to tell you about the other side of the story. I want to tell you about some twins I know, Bupe and Mwansa*, that live in a periurban community on the outskirts of Kitwe. They live with their grandparents, mother, aunt and a couple of cousins. Their grandmother has buried six of her eleven children over the past decade, and their eighty-four year old grandfather who was a miner now risks getting arrested to make charcoal. He’s been arrested three times so far for trespassing to collect the wood he needs to turn into charcoal, but he won’t give up because he feels that he has to do something to support his family. The drought that has gripped southern Africa means that this family along with many others are unlikely to grow enough food to support themselves this year.  And theirs is just one story; there are so many other families I could tell you about living in the communities we serve across Zambia, facing similar challenges to Bupe and Mwansa. 

The need here is so real, so tangible. It goes beyond the economic forecasts, the power outages and the drought. It reaches to the God-shaped hole in the heart of every human being. 

And therein lies the answer to so many of the problems here in Zambia and across the eight countries Hands at Work works in. I don’t even want to start on the hypocrisy of saying there’s an ‘economic war’ from the comfort of a sprawling compound. The only way that things here are going to get better, and children like Bupe and Mwansa will have a chance at breaking out of the poverty cycle is through the church. It’s through the church in our communities waking up to the need around them, and sending Care Workers to bring hope and encouragement and the love of Christ into homes that are filled with hopelessness. It’s through the church outside Africa standing up for children like Bupe and Mwansa, praying for them and advocating for them, sacrificing so that they can access basic healthcare, basic education and food security. 

I’ve seen the transformation that comes into a home when a care giver like Bupe’s grandmother understands the depth of God’s love for her. It transcends the hurts and the hardships, the suffering and the grief. It brings strength and life and the perseverance to care for our children even in the most difficult of circumstances. 

 Please keep praying for all those that work in our Regional Support Teams, both in South Africa and Zambia, as well as for our local offices, and our Care Workers in our communities across Africa, as each of us seek to reach out to children like Bupe and Mwansa. There’s still time to join 40 Days of Prayer as part of Lent; you can access the prayer guide here.

*names have been changed

A year of firsts...

It's only the middle of January, but 2016 is already proving to be a year of firsts. It's the first time I've seen in a new year in Africa, the first time I've let a chameleon sit on my shoulder, the first time I've welcomed home a German Shepherd puppy, the first time I've actually managed to buy a diary IN JANUARY-look how organised I'm becoming!- and the first time in a really long time that I feel ready.

As I sit on the floor of the laundry watching Max settle down for his first night in his new home, I'm struck that I have no idea what this year is going to look like, or where God is going to take me. And that could be a terrifying thing. But I choose to see it as something wonderful.

The end of 2015 forced me to grow and face challenges that I didn't see coming. It forced me to take a really long look at myself, to see those things in me that aren't the way God intended me to be. And it challenged me deeply about why I do what I do; why I live and serve here, and not in England.

Whilst I am not expecting 2016 to be easy, I am expecting it to be a year of growth. I believe, now more than ever, the words of this beautiful hymn:

"Because He lives, I can face tomorrow

Because He lives, all fear is gone

Because I know He holds the future

And life is worth the living just because He lives"

As I step into the unknown, I'm asking if you'll walk with me this year, one step at a time. Because it's going to be quite something, and I for once can't wait to see what God does next.

P.S. This is Max. He's a darling :)