There is always enough in the Father's heart

I have so much to learn here. In the middle of the dirt and the confusion and the poverty, the staff stride around with smiles on their faces, expressing love to the children in their words and actions, and seemingly undeterred by the practical difficulties. I watch them and wonder whether they are some special kind of person, or whether God's call to come here somehow changed and equipped them.

I want to make sure I don't miss whatever God is trying to teach me, so after breakfast I spend some time in the prayer gazebo. 'T' asked for volunteer to go on a prayer walk in the village right outside the compound, where [the ministry] is building some homes for local widows. The walk was another example of the spirit of confusion that seems to be the only discordant note here. The children are always dressed and fed, but the other activities seem unnecessarily chaotic.

We don't know whether there will be a hospital outreach, much less when it would be, what it would entail or how many people could go. We don't know whether there is a horse ministry. We don't know if the garbage we collect should go into the garbage drum, or be locked into the visitors' center. We don't know if there is a prison ministry (and if there is, is it for men or women). We don't know when the next bush outreach is, or how many days it would be if, or whether 'H' will go with us, or how far the trip will be. We don't know if there is an evening meeting to go to. We don't know if we have to re-confirm our flights individually or if someone will do it for us. We don't know if we are invited to the morning meeting with the guest speaker.We don't know if they will supply us with more drinking water as a group, or if we have to individually go into town. We don't know how we are supposed to flush the toilets when the water supply runs out (don't ask). We don't know if there is a widow's ministry. We don't know what hours the sewing shop is open. We don't know what time the outreach is, or where to carry our backpacks and tents to. We don't know that if we miss lunch due to helping at the village feeding, that we can go in the kitchen behind the dining room and get a plate. We don't know how to tell which kids actually belong to the orphanage, or which young men are the Bible students.

However, while the staff may be without answers, they are never without a smile. Some of the confusion is due to the legitimate goal of empowering the local Mozambican leadership, so projects outside the walls of the orphanage need to be arranged and approved in 'Africa time' rather than according to a Western schedule. Some of the confusion was on the part of the team I was with, rather than the orphanage. And sometimes it seemed as if confusion was a contagious virus that spread to everything it touched. The amazing thing was the unceasing love and patience that the staff consistently showed amidst the confusion.

In any event, the confusion finding the building site seems like deja vue, bizarrely colored by the fact that as we wander around trying to find the house, 'T' acts as tour guide, mentioning that the village we are walking through is considered especially dangerous, and that the police have to visit there frequently, to handle the violence. I wonder if it is really a good location for a widow's house, but have to simply write off the question as one of the many cultural things that I cannot control. The area is also filled with witch doctors -- I wonder if they are the ones who have been treating us to the 3am 'concerts'.

Finally 'T' finds the building site. It will be a cluster of 3 houses. So far they are mainly bamboo frames. We walk in and around the houses and pray, blessing the workers as well as the widows who will be moving in. In the middle of the dirt and the confusion, I find myself absurdly happy to be part of something where prayer is considered an essential part of anything that goes on, rather than an option that is tacked on the top. We ask what the criteria is for a widow to receive a house. T. has to think for a minute, and then she explains that they start with Biblical criteria, in other words, young widows are expected to re-marry, so they concentrate their attention on the ones that are too old to marry or to support themselves. But what is the procedure for choosing among the ones that are eligible? T's response was classic:
We don't have a procedure. We pray and ask God and do what He says.

On our way back into the orphanage, we go directly to the worship center, because we have been invited to the 11am service, and 'H' is speaking. She told us of the crises going on -- 130 construction workers out on strike. 41 children homeless because their children's center was taken away, (probably the government was paid off). She doesn't even bring up the fact that her husband is in the hospital. And to top it off, the sound system is still not grounded, she she keeps being shocked by the mike. People keep suggesting thing like wearing rubber shoes, and holding the mike with a kerchief, but every time she tries to sit down she gets zapped. And yet in the middle of these problems the focus is still on the presence of God, stirring us to love. Nothing distracts from the core values. She is not naive, and she is not in denial, but she knows that her Father in heaven is capable of supplying all things.

She says "when I talk about missions, I'm not talking about you finishing a project, I'm talking about your becoming incarnational lovers. All the results you see have flowed from the secret place."

We are listening eagerly, and suddenly there is a huge crash. I think the roof has fallen in, but then we realize it is just the metal gate to the worship center that has fallen off the tracks and crashed to the ground. 'H.' doesn't miss a beat.

"If you see something broken here, go fix it! Don't wait for permission! " Then she continues with her sermon. "I have plenty of victory stories, but today I'm sharing from emptiness, preaching from the beatitudes:"
Blessed are the poor in spirit
And blessed are those who mourn for they shall be comforted.

For 18 years, her life was about making friends with the poor. It's not about projects, it's about relationship. Jesus had friends, and demonstratedby spending time with them.

H tells a story about finding a child in the street, in a mound of garbage in Maputo. she had been raped so many times she had 4 STDs. Her hair was faded brown from malnutrition. She was angry, and demonized, with a bloated belly from malnutrition. This is a picture of mourning. But Jesus said blessed are those who mourn.

"Jesus understood what it was like to be hungry, thirsty, lonely, misunderstood, and abused. He gave his life away for love' sake. This is the kind of missionary life I'm talking about. Look at this book as a picture of Jesus. Follow in his victory and follow in his suffering. Walk in his bloody footsteps."

"What does it look like to comfort one who is mourning? What does missions look like? It looks like:

"You being needy for the Father, for shelter, for each other. Because we need to stay poor (not necessarily physically). Poor in spirit is an attitude of heart. Will you die if He does not show up? Are you desparate for the presence? If you know what it is to be poor in spirit, you can embrace a starving child as if it is Jesus hugging them.

"Jesus is searching not only for the bride, but for the brother and sister too.
Jesus is looking for those he can possess, for those he can put on like a glove, so he can touch others through you.
For they shall be comforted... through you, as the hands and mouth of Jesus.
"Focus on the treasures, not on the holes in the net. Keep your eyes on the prize. Be poor in spirit as a little child, but remember that there is always enough in my father's heart.