Diapers and Disciples Episode 24

Rachel writes:

It was such a gift to be a guest on Amber O'Hearn's podcast Diapers and Disciples where she chats with a different lady each week about living out the Great Commission as a mom. What a beautiful ministry! Click here to check out Episode 24!

In this episode, I was able to share a little bit about my experience of healing and restoration from past abuse and the breakthrough that took place when I believed I was too broken to be used by Christ. He whispered tenderly that he wanted to use me because of my brokenness, not despite it. Amber and I were able to chat about a variety of things, and the Holy Spirit graced us with his beautiful presence. Perhaps he will speak tenderly to your heart through this episode. Enjoy!

No Fear on the Nile

Rich writes:

It's actually a pretty funny story. Rachel and I were with the bishop of northern Uganda and his security guards as we waited to board a boat that would take us for a ride down the Nile River. The bishop organized the boat ride as a thank you gift for us right before our return to the states. We were sitting on decrepit picnic benches eating lunch beside the Nile and since we had been in Uganda for about three weeks, I was used to eating with my fingers. I was carefully picking through the fish, so as not to swallow any bones, when I suddenly realized a large black object quickly approaching in my peripheral. Within seconds, a tremendous baboon came running at me, swiping his long arms and reaching out for my lunch. I immediately jumped off of the bench as the baboon, looking like Lebron James dishing a layup, managed to steal my lunch and knock the majority of leftovers onto the dirt ground.

"Richard!" the bishop shouted as the baboon was quickly gathering the remaining food scraps out of the dirt. "Take courage! You take fear!" His words hit me hard, and they still resonate. "Richard," he continued, "I saw the baboon running at you. I was coming to swat it away, but you did not stand your ground and face him! You ran away in fear, and now you have nothing to eat. Why did you do that?" I had no real response. For the entire boat ride, I couldn't stop thinking about what had happened. Until then, the bishop had never raised his voice. Although he was being slightly facetious, I could tell that he was truly upset. In an area of the world where a famine had been declared, a meal was just wasted. Whether he intended to admonish me or not, I was cut to the heart. I heard the voice of Jesus, "Richard, take courage. You take fear."

Since that afternoon on the Nile, I've been meditating a lot about courage. Naturally, it has brought me to the fourteenth chapter of Matthew where Jesus calls Peter to get out of the boat and walk towards him on the water. Jesus' words to Peter are almost identical to the bishop's words to me: "Take heart, it is I; have no fear... Oh you of little faith, why did you doubt?" Getting out of the boat and walking on water is more than an act of faith. It is also an act of obedience. It's just doing it. It's stepping into the squat rack and just getting under the bar. Real obedience requires real courage, not the kind you muster up all on your own. The kind you muster up all on your own isn't bad, but it won't move mountains. The key to courageous obedience in facing the impossible is locking eyes with the Master. Peter defied the laws of gravity and walked upon the waves of the lake with his eyes trustfully locked on Jesus. We all know what happened when his eyes became unglued.

If I'm being transparent with myself, I need to grow radically in the virtue of courage as Jesus asks me to get out of the boat, so to speak, and lead my family to northern Uganda. Classic moral philosophers define courage as doing what is right and good despite external threats. I would rather avoid all external threats and cling to what is safe and predictable. I would rather remain in the comfort of the boat or, in other words, the comfort of America. For the disciple, however, obedience isn't optional. He's either "Lord" or he isn't. I cannot deny that he is calling me to "come" and in my heart of hearts, I know that there is no safer place than outside the boat and inside the loving gaze of Jesus. Gazing on him, gazing on me, in the middle of raging waters - that's absolute safety.

Smarties and Peace in South Sudan

Rachel writes:

The Sweet Martha's jar in my Nana's kitchen was always full of smarties. The jar never moved. It stayed right to the left of the stove, and we all scooped smarties with sneaky hands and smirks on our faces. I think we thought we were smarter than Nana, but now I know that's impossible. There wasn't a safer place than Nana's kitchen nor a more familiar thing in all the world than that little glass jar. None of us grandchildren even liked smarties all that much, but we'd scoop them out by the handfuls. All of our little hands just kept scooping. I think Nana knew it had to do with something more than just smarties. I think she knew it was peace we were scooping by the handfuls whenever we were in her kitchen.

The exuberant cries of children echoed throughout the refugee settlement as Rich passed out hundreds and hundreds of smarties. Amidst the cries of joy, the world around me grew dim as I encountered this one particular child. The malnourished and traumatized little boy stared at the smarty in his frail hands, unsure of what to do with it. Tears fall from my chin and form puddles as I try to write about it. The real life encounter was impossible for me to process emotionally. It wasn't until I was back in the states showing iPhone photos to my brother in Houston that the ton of bricks finally hit. And it's still hitting. I encountered all of the sorrow of South Sudan right inside of this little boy.

The children in South Sudan long for peace. It's that simple. Then again, it always is, isn't it? Violence has forced nearly one million South Sudanese children from their homes. Violence has kept nearly two million of them out of school. More than a third of them are malnourished. All of this could be reversed by peace. And don't they deserve to scoop up peace in handfuls and thrive in it, just like I did in Nana's kitchen? Just like we all did?

Perhaps the peace that flooded Nana's kitchen was born of her silence and her prayer. After all, she would pray a rosary in that kitchen each and every morning before the break of dawn. In sheer silence, she'd end with a whisper as she begged God "for world peace." She may not have solved global problems, but the peace inside her kitchen solved problems in me. The peace inside her kitchen solved problems in all who gathered around her table. In the words of Mother Teresa, "The fruit of silence is prayer. The fruit of prayer is faith. The fruit of faith is love. The fruit of love is service. The fruit of service is peace." As we prepare to give our lives in evangelization and service to the South Sudanese, we invite you to join us in the place where it all begins. In the silence of your own heart, and perhaps even your own kitchen, please join us in praying for peace in South Sudan.