Friday's Journal

Tonight I’m sat out here on the dock feeling immensely frustrated and I can’t put a finger on why….perhaps it’s because the realisation that I’ll be leaving this place has rendered me close to tears more than once today, or perhaps it’s the prospect of being on duty all weekend. But whichever, I really have no reason to be. God is doing something big…off the back of Tuesday night, turns out that this week’s community meeting was solely a time of worship. I’d also ended up on the worship team for that; a team of long-term crew, which was a real privilege and a blessing. It was a powerful time, much needed by the crew, but even more necessary as part of this ongoing battle we are facing. Mercy Ships is once again under the attack of the allegations of organ stealing. It’s gotten more serious, become a safety threat, and the president is involved. But regardless, as we stand up in worship and proclaim God, we are re-aligning ourselves with his purposes and plans, and declaring that He has the victory. In me personally, again it feels like something is shifting…like my heartbeat is becoming more aligned with the beat of God’s heart. In the message version of the gospel of Matthew, it talks about God’s unforced rhythms of grace. I feel like I’m moving in that rhythm, having more confidence to act upon what I hear from God. But right now, I’m feeling a little weary, and also a little broken. I’m not really sure I can handle leaving here again. I kind of came looking for either open doors or closure, and I don’t feel like I’ve yet discovered either.

Today at the Orphanage, little Princess went somewhat weird on me. At first I just thought she was a bit upset with me taking my sunglasses back, but then she began wailing some kind of incantation. It took me a little while to realise, but Brenda began praying over her and almost instantly she was smiling and bubbly again. It’s all too easy to get caught up in the fun and games, the smiles and the love, and to forget the tragic situations that write the histories of each of these children’s lives. It took me back to that week of Segue where we spent every afternoon listening to and recording the children’s stories, and then subsequently every evening on our knees in a heart-wrenching combination of tears and prayers.

This life that He has called me to certainly hurts sometimes. Sometimes all I want is for God to heal my heart, and other times I’m really kind of OK with the brokenness. I think that’s maybe how we’re supposed to be sometimes.

But right now I’m just going to sit here on the end of the dock, overlooking the dark city of Monrovia in what would be silence (if it weren’t for the sirens of the unloading cargo ship across the port) and see what God wants to speak to me tonight. I have a feeling it might be one of those tear-prayer combination times.

I stand in awe of you...

I am speechless…though having said that, I’m now going to attempt to find words to express what happened tonight (tuesday)….I guess three words would sum it up.
God. Showed. Up.
A few weeks ago I had this burning desire for more worship onboard the ship….for people to join together to glorify God. It was that kind of “wont’ go away I have to do something about this” kind of desire that generally only comes when God is opening a door and calling me to do something. As a result of a conversation one night with a bunch of girls form all different corners of the globe, we decided we would meet together for worship. And then we figured we should open it up to whoever wanted to come. We prayed, we planned, and we prayed some more, and I genuinely believed that very few people would show up. I didn’t think many people knew about it, despite advertising…the ship was somewhat pre-occupied with the Olympic games and leaving parties. But people just kept on coming….we began and just welcomed God to come, and for the next hour we simply sang praises to our heavenly father, glorifying Him and placing Him in His rightful place. This was my vision from God for this time, and He was faithful as ever.
Worshipping God has more power than we could ever imagine, and I believe we caught a glimpse of that this evening. Something shifted, both seen and unseen. Worship has so much power in the spiritual realm. We are in a battle, God made that very clear. And just as in the time of King Josiah, they sent out the singers first. I am utterly overwhelmed by God, and yet I know this is only the beginning. He is going to do incredible things. A transformation is taking place. His Kingdom is coming more and more. He alone is God, and He reigns. My words are utterly inadequate to describe Him, but tonight there was spiritual breakthrough on so many levels; in my life and in this community. So come Lord Jesus, and take your place.

a presidential encounter

So yesterday, after 4 days of continuous torrential Liberian-rainy-season-rain, the sun finally shone, and a few of us took the opportunity to head to the beach. Another Mercy Shipper who had left ahead of us phoned to tell us that an entire beach resort next door to the patch of beach we were heading to had been washed away in the rains. So we drove off on the usual route only to get stop on the last section of dirt road by a bunch of armed guards. They informed us that the president was down there surveying the damage and that they weren't allowing vehicles to pass any further. We were welcome to get out and walk, however. So we did. A short distance down the road and round the bend comes the first vehicle in a long convoy, full of guards and AK-47s. We step to the side and wait as car after car in the presidential entourage passed. We just stood, waving, feeling somewhat underdressed in typical beachwear (boardshorts and flipflops) to Miss Ellen Johnson-Sirleaf herself. Granted we couldn't really see her due to the tinted glass of her car, but it was somewhat of a bizarre encounter. I certainly wasn't planning on waving to the Iron lady on the side of a dirt road in my favourite old boardshorts!

The damage to the area was astonishing! Apparently the whole area had flooded, many people losing their homes. The water had chosen the path of least resistance, which happened to be right through the middle of the beach area. All that was left was collapsed buildings and piles of debris, as the new river flowed right through the middle of what had once been a resort thriving on NGO business. The destruction caused by the rainy season is often a result of non-existant drainage systems, and is yet another challenge facing Liberia as it begins to rebuild.

Liberia: A shell of a country

Yesterday we made our way upcountry to Bong Mines, a journey we were not able to make during 2005 due to the instability of the country. We travelled via train, well, landrover on top of train, in the pouring rain, making the journey an experience in itself. I think Monrovia has the ability to lull you into a false sense of security; an unrealistic view of what so much of this country is really like. And it's really beautiful...stunningly so. And yet everywhere you go you are struck by the sense that the people have so little. I know this is true of the city, but there is an "elite" class that live here, but I suppose even that is relative to our "wealth." It's not far out of Monrovia though that dwellings move from breeze blocks with tin roofs to mud huts with palm leaf roofs. The sight of so many buildings which were burnt out and derilict becomes somewhat disheartening after a while, and the whole region of the Bong Mines bears testament to this. Vast mining facilities and plants are now simply ugly looking structures of twisted, rusting steel...a shall of what it once was. The landscape is littered with such structures, and with the rusting remains of endless bits of heavy plant machinery. And bullets. This country continues to enthrall me and break my heart all at the same time. It is so beautiful and yet so broken. Stunning scenery and the ruins of what once was are irrevocably enmeshed. The natural beauty, however, is slowly invading the ruins. Beautiful flowers bloom amidst piles of corroding industrial wreckage. Maybe this is a symbol of things to come; of God's hope continuing to spread and grow. So much of Liberia has been reduced to burnt out abandonment. It stands as a shell of the country it once was. War has such a horrible way of taking everything and leaving next to nothing.

walking "IN" God

Yesterday was by far the busiest day I've had since being onboard....I think I sat down for a total of 10 minutes between 7.30 am and 9pm....I finished the day exhausted but with an overwhelming sense that I'd been in the presence of God the entire day. I'd ended up leading a time of worship outside on deck 7 yesterday morning, followed by our department bible study....Cathy my boss shared a picture of not walking "with" God, but walking "IN" God...completely surrounded and encapsulated by his spirit. I can't think of a better place to be, than right there, and where I am right here and right now: walking "IN" God.

culture clash

I'm on call all weekend...which basically means I get the pager and am responsible for all the new crew when they first arrive, and have to sign off those who are departing us this weekend. This morning, however, a lovely lady in my department covered for me which freed me up for a few hours to head out to New Georgia and the Orphanage. We had a good time, as ever. A family who are long term crew onboard came with us, including their two little boys. The children at the Orphange hadn't seen white children before, and after the intial crazy first half hour, to watch them play side by side was beautiful. Another skin-colour breakthrough was made today. There is a 1 1/2 year old boy at the Orphanage who hates white people, and especially me. Last Saturday as soon as he saw me he screamed (I honestly don't have that effect on all children!) Today, however, after a little bit of high-fiving, he came and sat on my lap for ages..... until I noticed a warm wet patch on my skirt and thanked him kindly for peeing all over me!!
So now I'm back on the ship and the culture clash gets me every single time. We serve out bowls of rice in palm oil to the children at the Orphanage and then head back to the ship, where I'm faced with that oh so difficult dilema of how to make my packed lunch a little more appealing. But I'm not the one eating rice in palm oil every day. It really does get me every single time, the vast distance I feel between "us" and "them" when I return to the ship. This has become a constant struggle for me, as so much of my experience of Liberia came from living out in New Georgia alongside the local people, and I loved being alongside....knowing that I was going to have to go back and light the coals to cook my dinner and head to the well to draw water for my bucket shower. Now I just head to the galley for food and my shower water comes from a faucet and gets sucked away by the ship's evac system.
Speaking of the evac system...and I think this may be what has made today's culture shock a little more pronounced.... as part of beign "on duty" in the hospitality department, one of the random tasks of the day is to flush all toilets in empty cabins. So I've just completed my tour of the ship flushing a whole bunch of toilets. Many people on the other side of the port gates don't even have a toilet, and certainly not one the has a high-tech microbial-balanced flushing system that requires flushing every day! My life is such a bizarre fusion of cultural clashes....a realisation which was today triggered by a whole bunch of toilets.

where is the Justice?

Today I decided it was about time I stepped out of my comfort zone. In general, the ship is my comfort zone, and to an extent, the familiarity and friendship at the orphanage has become my comfort zone. It was time for "breaking out." So this morning I joined the team headed for Sisters of Charity...and AIDS Hospice in central Monrovia. We made our way into a room crammed with 20 odd beds, the "sick room," where the most ill patients stay. Those whose beds are nearest the door are so weak and covered in sores that they are mere days away from death. The "healthier" ladies joines us there, and as we were all perched on the edge of the thin mattresses, one of the patients started playing a djimbe drum and we began worshipping the Lord together. One image from this time will forever stick in my mind. A lady on the bed just in front of the one I was sitting on was so thin and sick she could barely move. As soon as the singing started, what tiny glimer of energy she could muster went into moving her stick like arms in time to the beat. (I guess Africans really do always have rhythm!) One of the other ladies pulled her upright for she was too weak to sit up herself, and from there she raised her hands in worship, telling God how great He was. It astounds me that this lady whose body had fallen victim to full blown AIDS could have a spirit so strong as to tell her God how great He was. Her bed was nearing the door....a sure sign that it may be just weeks, or even days, until she goes to meet her heavenly father...the one to whom she will offer the last sliver of energy that she has for He is the one who has sustained her throughout the battle.

How often do I brush over telling God how great He is? This lady truly offered her everything in worship...it quite literally consumed all that she had. How often do I fail to do that?

Thinking back through the war and all the atrocities that it held, many of these women would have contracted the HIV virus through rape. Where is the justice? And yet they still worship God and tell Him how great He is.

a ministry of presence...

Last night I sat on the dock in the wind after a long and slow day at work on the ship, followed by a really special visit to the Orphanage in the evening. I really enjoy visiting in the evenings...the children are relatively chilled out and it's great to just sit......the "ministry of presence." It blesses me so much....to hold Princess, to watch the brother-sister type relationship develop between her and Peter, to abandon yourself to the young girls as they start tugging on your hair to braid it, to watch the games going on and to watch the tears but also the smiles. I just feel so blessed that God has brought me here...at at times maybe I don't need a reason other than to just "be."

this is for you alison urie.....

appologies for the lack of blogging....i've not really got into it yet, but i will try and make more of an effort!

I'm back, it's great and tough all at the same time. Biggest joy: being back in Liberia. Biggest struggle: being back in Liberia and living on in the midst of a giant cultural anomaly that is this big white ship. Someone sent me a great quote this week in response to this:

"I began to realize that God cares less about what we do and more about why we do it".

I don't know why I'm here other than God said so. I'm sure God will remain faithful in that. When I figure it out, I'll let you know.