Do We Really Care for Orphans?

It seems that orphans have received a lot of attention in the past five years or so. The social-justice-minded millennial generation has raised awareness of the multitude of children who have lost one or both parents. In Zambia alone, there are 1.2 million orphans… 19% of all children under the age of 18. That is so unfathomable to us as Americans. We will buy necklaces, handbags, coffee, or just about anything else to support orphans. Maybe even take a mission trip to an orphanage. Why? We are burdened for them. We want to do something to help; we are desperate to feel like we are part of the solution. The problem has been overlooked for too long. 

And without a doubt, good things have come from this movement. An increase in Christians adopting children and churches supporting them to do so. Beginning to look outside our comfort zones and asking how we can be the body of Christ to those who are helpless. Feeling that burden, compassion, and love for these precious ones who are so close to the heart of our Savior. Oh, our hearts break for them.

BUT.

Does your heart break for spiritual orphans? Those who, although they may have physical parents, have no one committed to nurturing them spiritually? They may not be as noticeable as a barefoot child, but I promise you know at least one. 

It's the thirteen year old girl who gives her life to Christ and then slips through the cracks when her unbelieving parents stop bringing her to church.

It's the young man who accepts Jesus as his Savior, but no one ever teaches him how to study the Bible or talk to his heavenly Father or what it means to live according to the Spirit.

It's the child who gets dropped off at Sunday school, AWANAS, and church choir so his parents can have a break, and no one at home ever asks him about what he is learning. 

It's the exchange student, far from family and familiarity, who becomes a first-generation believer and has no idea what to do next. 

It's the newlywed who desires to have a godly marriage but doesn't have anyone in her life she can look to as an example. 

They are the people who sit in your pews every Sunday for a sermon but are still spiritually babies. They have no prayer warrior interceding for them, no mentor holding them accountable, no communion with the body of believers, no one they regard as a spiritual brother or sister or father or mother in their time of need.

Oh, may our hearts long to be Christ with flesh to these children of God just as much as to orphans in Africa!

Paul called Timothy his son in the faith. Why? He wasn't an orphan; he had both parents (Acts 16:1). Yet his father was not a believer in Christ. Who then would teach Timothy to flee sin, pursue godliness, and fight the good fight of the faith? (1 Tim. 6:11-12) 

Paul took that responsibility upon himself (1 Timothy 1:2).

We, the church, have neglected discipleship. The church-- not as an institution-- but you, and I, and all who call themselves by Christ's name. 

Discipleship. That life-on-life responsibility for another. I will teach you, I will pray for you; come into my home and around my dinner table. I will laugh with you, and I will cry with you. It is a messy way of life, because we are all broken people. And it is a much longer commitment than a week-long mission trip. But Christ modeled it and Christ commanded it (Matt. 28:19). 

I don't say these things because I do them well, but because I don't do them enough. Christ opened my eyes and drew me in with a burden for orphans, but the deeper I looked into the heart of my Savior, the more I realized that that burden only scratched the surface of his bottomless, immeasurable love for all his children.

So please, keep sending money to support the orphan whose picture is on your refrigerator. Keep praying about adoption if the Lord has placed it on your heart. Don't cancel your overseas mission trip. But ask the Father who it is in your life that you can disciple-- call your spiritual child. You don't have to cross an ocean; you can be Jesus with skin on to someone today.

You Are Most Welcome

I don't even know where to begin.

So many people have asked me what Zambia is like, and after being here for 3 months, I still feel like I can't do it justice. But perhaps I can give you a few snapshots.

My first full day in Kitwe was a Sunday-- my first time to worship at Riverside Baptist Church. I remember the deacons shaking my hand and telling me, "You are most welcome here. We have been praying for you." I remember Musonda, a university student and now a dear friend, telling me with a grin, "Kayla has told me all about you. We were praying that you would be moved to Zambia and now the Lord has answered."

...

Every Wednesday we have Bible Study with a few young ladies in the township of Ndeke. I will never forget the first week I went with Kayla to the Zulus' home. As soon as I stepped inside, a woman I had never met before greeted me with a hug. "My other daughter has arrived! Alyssa, you are most welcome here! Feel at home. Or, as we like to say, 'feel at house!' " Her contagious laughter told me we were already family. The same laugh echoed by her sister, Cynthia, as she brought in dish after dish that she had prepared for us to eat before Bible Study.

"I already know you, Alyssa-- can I call you Aly?-- and I bet you can guess who I am!" Cynthia said. And before I could tell her that I could guess, she continued on; "We are thankful to God you are here. Now this is your first Zambian meal, isn't it? Let me tell you what everything is." She beamed with approval and amusement as I carefully rolled my nshima in my hand and used it to scoop up some kapenta.

...

A sweet family lives on the same plot as us, and also happens to go to our church: Wezi, Precious, Wezious, and Praise. Don't even get me started on how adorable those names are together. Wezious is not a shy three year old, and by the end of week one I was Auntie Alyssa to her. 

"Auntie Alyssa, come and see!" as she reveals any of a number of treasures she has found to play with.

"Auntie Alyssa, what's deez?" as she points to something she doesn't know how to say in English.

"Auntie Alyssa, look, mah baby!" as she proudly carries her one-year-old sister, whose feet are nearly dragging the ground.

Between her bits of English and my very few Bemba phrases, we get along quite well.

Each of these people has grown to be an important part of my life here, but it's not just friends and church family who have welcomed me. Everywhere I go, Zambians flash their brilliant smiles and extend the same warm greeting. Everywhere I go, strangers become friends. The guy who weighs produce at the grocery store. The girl who works at the gelato shop. The man at the post office who deals with international packages. 

Even the Zamtel workers, who we complained to every week until our internet was fixed, weren't deterred by our American impatience. "Kayla and Alyssa, welcome! Have you learned any more Bemba? Do you remember the words I taught you?" our friend Benjamin says as he launches into an impromptu language lesson which lasts far longer than our customer service inquiry.

That is what Zambia is like. It's not a complete picture, but maybe the most vivid part to me right now. Some days I am struck with the pride I brought with me when I traveled to this side of the globe. I thought I was coming here to teach something, but far more often I feel like I am the one who has something to learn. The precedence relationships should take. The art of making others at home. One more way of being the hands and feet of Christ. 

Seeds and Suitcases

I lived in Botswana for four months in a sweet little apartment. On my back patio, I had a small plot of ground that would have been perfect for a garden. I thought about planting a garden, talked a lot about planting a garden, looked at seeds for a planting a garden, enlisted help for planting my garden. But always in the back of my head was the thought, "It's not worth planting seeds. I'll have to break up this hard ground, find out what kind of plants will grow best and when the right time is to plant here, and water them constantly. I don't even know how long I'm going to be here. I will do all that work and then by the time the plants grow, I will be in Zimbabwe (ha!). I won't get to eat any of the fruits or vegetables I planted."

So I didn't. I didn't plant a garden and I didn't have any fruit. Due to the temporary nature of my stay in Botswana, I felt the tension between putting down roots and numbering my days, never unpacking my last suitcase.

And maybe I was justified with the suitcase thing, because then I was transferred to Zambia.

Zambia is a lush, green, beautiful country. In our yard we have a big garden, as well as many fruit trees. My favorite is the avocado tree… unlimited supply of fresh, free, organic avocados = happiness. But there is one problem with that tree. It produces avocados in abundance, but the tree is so tall that it is impossible to pick the ones from the top. They hang there until they rot or fall off, and we don't get to enjoy them. Kayla has witnessed my frustration over this predicament many times and laughed as I have tried to climb the tree and beat them off with a stick. Not effective, in case you were wondering.

I don't know much about agriculture, but I will say that in these two countries where I have ministered, there are spiritual parallels to the land I have just described. They are very different places with very different needs. Looking back at my time and Botswana, I hope and pray that I was more effective in planting seeds spiritually than I was with my nonexistent garden. And looking forward upon the mere 13 months I have left in Zambia, I pray that I will be more effective in harvesting than I am in knocking avocados off my tree. Because the fields here are ready for harvest. Oh, they are so ready. 

Every day I am amazed by my precious Zambian friends and fellow believers who have such big dreams of advancing the kingdom. They are a great an encouragement to me, yet at the same time I feel so inadequate. How can I help them seek the Lord's direction? How can I encourage them to obedience? How can I help mobilize them?

It has taken some time for me to realize, but the Word of God addresses all these questions and more than makes up for my deficiencies of knowledge in planting, watering, and harvesting.

He says we should ask him to send out more workers into the harvest. (Matt 9:38) 

He says that if we sow abundantly, we will reap abundantly… sow sparingly and you will reap sparingly. (2 Corinthians 9:6)

And perhaps most relieving (or most humbling) is the truth that those of us who plant and those who water are nothing, but only God, who makes things grow. (1 Corinthians 3:7)

I don't have to have all the answers. Yes, I am called to be faithful in planting seeds. Yes, I will do everything I can to nurture those plants and see them produce fruit. But it is the Lord of the harvest who makes things grow, who carries to completion the good work he begins in each one's life.