Beauty from Ashes

Break my heart for what breaks yours.. I prayed it, He answered.

Less than 24 hours ago I came home. I came home to half of my heart standing in the airport, arms spread, ready to receive me back home.

The other half of my heart was left in Africa, my other home.

In a million little pieces.

1 big piece was left in the hands of a beautiful 9 year old girl named Hellen. A little was left in the grass where we slept under the stars, her head on my shoulder, her arms around my waste. Safe. A little left when I put her to bed in her bunk, tucking the covers real tight around her feet and arms. Pieces of it left each time we danced or sang in circles, nkwagala okuzina, I love to dance, chanted over and over. Pieces taken each time she let out that wonderful little joyful laugh. The biggest piece left as I hugged her tight and kissed her beautiful little bald head, telling her bye, dayo, to go back in lugandan.

I left a piece in a prison, full of children in Kampala, where the Bible came to life. When children who were cast out and abandoned, locked in cells, came to life, danced, and worshipped with such genuine joy that I could not stop the tears from rolling down my face.

I left a piece in that prison with my new friend Sam. A 9 year old boy who was sent away by his father for being stubborn. A boy who likes football and doing flips. Another piece when I saw the hands of a tiny boy wrapped around the cold steel bars of a cell.

A piece taken in Jinja with a 4 year old boy named Brad who lives on the street. Who was so dirty and alone, yet never stopped smiling. I lost a piece when he came up to me with a hurt toe and I took him to the doctor and held his hand as he cried. A piece left as he came running alongside our bus in the street and I got to hold him one last time and tell him that I love him, that Jesus loves him.

I lost a piece in a tiny one room home where a mother dying of Aids told my friend and I that she didn’t know what would happen to her children after she died. A piece gone when I told her we could help, God had sent me to hear her story, to hug her babies and to help her. I can do that because God blessed me, and as I walked out on that dying woman and her 15 year old boy, her 9 year old daughter holding my hand, I lost a piece of my heart.

Pieces of my heart chipping away.

A piece left in the back row of a Ugandan church, where Jesus took away the pride of my heart. Where I laid in the floor and heard dozens of my brothers and sisters praying aloud that most beautiful prayers I have ever heard, in a language I don’t understand.

My heart empty, nothing left to give after Uganda, I prayed to God to fill me up, give me more of him to give away.

He did.

He is faithful.

A piece taken when we were greeted in song by a 100 beautiful Kenyan voices singing welcome to us.

A piece gone as I awoke that first morning to those same voices singing Amazing Grace.

Amazing Grace indeed.

Redemption.

Beauty.

Love.

Joy.

A piece given to a 13 year old boy named Danson. In desperate need of medical attention and a voice. God guided my friend and I to him. Let us be a part of a miracle. Let us be a part in him receiving surgery to remove just a toe, and not a foot, or a leg, or his life. Danson, my friend, my brother, my heart.

He makes all things new.

A piece gone as I watched a teenage girl stand and tell her story. The loss of her parents, he grandmother, the mistreatment of her aunt, the redemption of her life. I lost pieces as she quoted Psalms 27:10 “Though my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will receive me.”

Broken pieces as the pastor stated, “You may not have a lot in this world’s perspective, but when you know who your father is you have so much.”

My heart is scattered throughout Kenya and Uganda.

Scattered in dozens and dozens of tiny, beautiful, brown hands and arms.

Left in a hospital room, a church, a crib, a prison, a home, an orphanage, a street in Jinja.

I went to Africa to be the hands and feet of Jesus.

Instead I saw Jesus. I looked in his face. I held his hand. I hugged him. I prayed with him. I prayed over him. I begged him to take away the hurt. The pain.

I thanked him for the joy. The joy that was everywhere. The laughter. The dancing. The singing. I thanked him for redemption. For Grace. For beauty from ashes.

My heart was broken. It was replaced with God’s heart. I want to keep his heart, even if it hurts.

He taught me that love can change the world. It did 2000 years ago on a cross on Calvary and it can change the world today.

He left us his spirit. He is alive. He is still changing hearts. He is still changing lives.

He changed mine in two short weeks.

"This is the message you heard from the beginning: We should love one another. We know that we have passed from death to life, because we love our brothers. Anyone who does not love remains in death. This is how we know what love is: Jesus Christ laid down his life for us. and we ought to lay down our lives for our brothers. If anyone has material possessions and sees his brother in need but has no pity on him, how can the love of god be in him? Dear children let us not love with words or tongue but with actions and in truth. This then is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence, whenever our hearts condemn us, for God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. Dear friends, let us love one another for love comes from God." 1 John 3:11, 14, 16-20. 4:7

"The LORD is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit." - Psalm 34:18