22 September 2007


Another week as come and gone and I find myself so fulfilled. Whether it’s dishing soup to children, learning Xhosa, marveling at our Lord’s creation or hugging my dear little friends. And this fulfillment is found in experiencing God in simple ways. And no words can truly paint an accurate picture.

So this week glance through these pictures and be blessed. May you see Jesus in the eyes of precious children. May you see Jesus in the beauty of nature. May you be blessed by the reminder that true fulfillment comes in experience God. And often that is in the most simple ways.

16 September 2007


Meet Joy. At the simple age of 3 she doesn’t have much to say. Or maybe I just don’t understand her mumblings. The darling toddler demands to be in my arms every Thursday during Bible study. She doesn’t really personify her namesake but occasionally I can sneak a smile out of her. Joy lives with 16 other foster brothers and sisters in a shack that resembles the log cabins I used to build with my brother. With so many other children and just one precious mama to take of them all, I wonder who holds Joy when Thursday has come and gone.

Meet Sisifo. This 2 year old comes running when he hears me call his name every Wednesday afternoon. I won’t leave until I’ve tracked him down. At 1 year old he wanders the streets of the most dangerous neighborhood in the township alone. When the sun sets, Silvertown is the last place to be. Yet little the little boy plays unwatched in the streets. I wonder if anyone worries about Sisifo.

Meet Cameron. Quiet and gentle, the 1st grader always seems to find my hand when I visit Magnolia Primary. He seems to be an oddball amongst his peers. Rarely do I see him joined by other little boys. I don’t know why. Cameron doesn’t have much to say to me. But his smile when he looks up at me says it all. He feels safe. I wonder if there are any other times that Cameron feels safe.

Meet Yonda. What an advantageous 4 year old she is! She is the most beautiful girl you’ll ever meet. She is the beloved daughter of my best friend Andiswe. Yonda is certainly loved & adored. She is a bright little girl. We teach each other our languages but I must say she is learning much faster than I. But she is born in a home with no money for education, let alone food some days. I wonder if Yonda’s bright mind will ever be given a chance.

These are just a few of the stories of the dear children my heart has attached to. There are so many stories to be told. And some days I am so overwhelmed by the silence. As a follower of Jesus, I am reminded that Jesus loves all these children and will look out for them. But he has also given us the task to look after such children.

But I still wonder, who will tell their stories?

07 September 2007

never no more//week17

This week Paarl came together to worship. And I mean all of Paarl; black, white, colored, rich, poor, charismatic, legalistic, English, Afrikaans, Xhosa, American all joined together. It was a true miracle. Only the power of the Holy Spirit could join together what a history of bigotry has separated.

Listening to the mighty voices joining together in praise seemed to be a prelude to what heaven must like. The stunning harmonies were a testament to a greater unity.

Each night this week Toringkerk Church opened its doors to all. Never before had the wooden pews welcomed the graciously sized derrières of the Xhosa mamas. Never before had the ornate ceilings each with the joyous shouts of colored voices. Never before had that place of God seen all colors of God’s children joined together. But when has “never” been anything more than an invitation for the Holy Spirit to stir?

The “Walking with God” church revival was a movement intended to assemble and encourage the Christians of the Paarl Valley. Each night this week, almost two thousand people from all over the valley filled the church. People from churches all the around joined together. Some served soup to the hungry. Others ushered people to their seats. Those gifted musically led the mass in worship. Authors and preachers came from across the world to cheer on the church. It was cross-cultural occasion that had never happened before.

Sure the haggard wounds of a harmful past still lingered, but there was a gentle awareness of coming reconciliation that could not be ignored. And while the town of Paarl has a long ways to go before genuine unity is reached, it seems to me that we’ve entered a new era where “never” is no longer binding.