Compassion International and Kenya, Final Day

I’m here at the Hotel PanAfric in Nairobi, Kenya. The past week has been an incredible time seeing firsthand the remarkable job Compassion International does “on the ground.” I have been moved, impressed, and inspired seeing the difference Christ makes in the lives of the poor. In just a few hours, we’ll board the plane that takes us back to Amsterdam, that takes us back to Atlanta, that takes us back home. This will be my last post in country, but if you will indulge me, there will be a few days worth of videos, photos, and reflections to follow.

For a final update on what we have done on the last couple of days . . .

For our last couple days in country, we went on an overnight safari in the Massa Mara region. This is an instructive and interesting trip on a few levels. First of all, it reminds everyone that Kenya is not just the slums. I will never forget the people I met in the Kibera and Mathari slums. But Kenya is so much more, as the pictures below will show.

Second, this trip is so emotionally and spiritually exhausting. I went to bed every night with a million thoughts in my head. 24 hours isolated with your team, surrounded by God’s handiwork serves as a good way to begin to process what you have seen and learned.

So, without further ado, some pics from our safari. I’ll see you back in the States. Thanks for keep up with us.

(One picture you won’t see here but I will promise to update when I get home . . . I was 8 feet away from a lion defending his kill, a water buffalo) from a hoard of vultures. There were no lions in sight. The birds had covered the kill. Suddenly, four male lions emerge from a rock outcropping of the mountain directly in front (and above) us. One of the lions comes charging down the mountain, sending the birds flying. Again, 8 feet in front of us. Amazing.)





Compassion International and Kenya, Day 5

Well, this will be a short post. We are about to leave to go on a 24 hour safari, kind of a final way of getting together as a team and having a little fun. Before we go, I wanted to give you a quick update of what we did yesterday.

One of the Compassion LDP students that has been with our group (and will be with Student Life this summer) is Maureen. Like every LDP student I have ever met, she is extremely sharp. She has such a compelling story and is so articulate and passionate when communicating it. All of the LDP students have overcome so much to get to where they are.

Anyway, yesterday we joined Maureen at her church for the Sunday morning Service. Let me describe to you this church . . .

The church is a walled compound with the sanctuary and some very minimal office space on the right, and some low slung buildings on the left. There is a large dirt parking/gathering space in between the two structures. When we arrived, we could hear children’s voices from the buildings on the left. The kids were having Sunday School. (A handful saw us arrive and squirted out the door to greet us before a teacher rounded them all back up.)

We went upstairs to the church office that doubled as the Compassion project office, a space no more than 20X10 feet. We reunited with the LDP students who had been with Student Life last summer. It was a lot of hugging, and laughing, with something like 25 people crammed in this office space.

At about 9:50 we left the office and traveled down the narrow, dimly lit corridor to the sanctuary. We passed the generator that powered the sanctuary, stepping over the exposed wires that ran through the window and down to the front of the inside of the church.

We took our seats near the front of the church, as the people started filling in. This sanctuary was awesome. It was an “L” shape, with the long part of the “L” being formed by the center isle. At the front of the church was a small stage-like area, then the small part of the “L” shot off to our left. There were windows, maybe 7 feet tall spread fairly far apart on the walls. The ceiling was maybe 30 feet high, made of roughly cut and patched corrugated tin. The exposed iron trusses that held the roof up had long ago succumb to the rust that covered them. One large, un-uniformly shaped concrete column held the roof in place. Several wooden doors that looked to be a million years old let people come and go from the sanctuary.

On the stage were seated the elders of the church and the various “staff” members. We took our seats in a place of honor, which was a very kind and gracious gesture on the part of the church. We were introduced, and I actually got to share a few words on behalf of our group. If you look at the picture below it makes me look like I am preaching a revival. I assure you it was a very short speech. But the picture looks pretty cool.

After the introductions, the music began. And boy did the music began! You have never seen such praise! And it lasted for almost two hours!!!! You heard me right. We sang praise songs for almost two hours, mostly in a language we did not understand. But it is the universal language of praise to God that doesn’t have to be understood to be felt. It was a powerful time of worship.

By the time the service ended, we had been in church for 3.5 hours! But it was an amazing experience. I would do it again today.

These are a people who understand joy, real spiritual joy . . . They are constantly in praise to God. I cannot tell you what a privilege it has been to be here sharing with them in praise and love for our Father.

OK, off to the Safari. I might not get a chance to post until I return to the States, but I’ll try if I get the chance.

Compassion International and Kenya, Day 4

We had a great day today, but because of Internet issues and my rush to talk about the Project we visited yesterday, I am still a day behind. So, I want to tell you about an experience we had the second day we were in Kenya.

Our second full day here we got up early in the morning and drove to KE-553, the Maasai Project. Now, chances are you are familiar with the Maasai people. They are the most recognizable of the African tribes because of their traditional dress, and the fact that many of them have remained true to their ancient traditions. They are herders. And they are really awesome people.

We had to leave very early for the two-hour drive to the Maasai project. The roads in Kenya are maybe some of the worst I have ever seen. In fact, to call them roads is sort of a misnomer. Here is what the road looked like for most of the way out of Nairobi to the Massai.

We pulled off the main road and traveled through terrain that was straight out of a National Geographic photoshoot. We crossed this huge, dry river bed (see below), and as we came out the other side, I looked up to see three wild ostrich running through the fields. It was an amazing sight.

We arrived at the project and were ushered into Lenjani Baptist Church, one of the smallest, most quaint rural churches you’ll ever see. No sooner were we seated than the children came marching in to put on a show for us.

The children sang some traditional songs, their ornate dress and beautiful voices working in harmony to create an extremely moving experience. Everywhere we have gone on this trip, the children have greeted us with such an amazing show of thankfulness and hospitality. In general, Kenyans may be the friendliest, kindest people I have ever encountered. They are so gracious, and this is communicated by the children as well.

After a short ceremony and introductions, we heard from the pastor of Lenjani, who read to us from Matthew 25:34-40. You know the text . . .

“Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’ Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’

Now, this verse is a wonderful verse to describe the practical implications of our call to take care of the “least of these.” But let me tell you something . . . When a person who would be considered by the world to be one of “the least of these” reads these verses aloud, it gets your attention.

We moved from the church service to a new program Compassion is test-driving called “A Day In The Life.” The goal of this program is to spend a day in the life of a Compassion child. In this case, we would spend the better part of the morning with Amos, a 12 year old boy in the Compassion Maasai project.

We met Amos, loaded him up in our jeep, and headed to his shack. When we arrived, our Compassion staffer, Carol, peered into the dark 10X10 ramshackle home and asked the mother if we might come in. When we did I was shocked. The home was so small, and so bare. There was literally nothing in it. And in the corner, I could barely make out the silhouette of a small baby. As my eyes adjusted, I could begin to make out two people. I would come to find that one was Faith, Amos’ mother. The other was Lorna, Amos’ 3 month old sister.

We spent some time talking to Faith and we shared a prayer of blessing on her home. Then, it was off to herd sheep and fetch water.

We spent the next few hours with Amos and his cousin herding sheep. (The women went to collect firewood.) In the process, we saw wildabeast, Thompson’s gazelle, Zebra, and more ostrich, all roaming free in the Maasai lands. We talked to Amos quite a bit. He was shy at first, but he opened up. We found out that he rises at 3:30 to walk the two miles to school. He and his friends travel in groups to keep the hyena away. We learned that he has speared a Zebra. We learned that he likes soccer. And we learned that his father has passed away. All in all, it was an amazing time.

One experience I will not forget was walking the mile from Amos’ house to go get the water for cooking. The watering hole is a pond maybe the size of a basketball court. It is the women’s job to get the water. Amos’ aunt, a kind woman who was 7 months pregnant, showed us how to draw water. She filled a huge jug, maybe 5-7 gallons. She then began to tie a makeshift harness around it. I told her that I was going to carry it for her and asked how she strapped it on. I was not prepared for what was next.

She took the strap, wrapped it around the barrel of water, making a sort of long handle. Then, she hoisted the strap up over my head, placing it firmly in the middle of the top of my head. My neck nearly snapped. “Lean over,” Carol yelled. I leaned over, allowing the barrel to more or less stabilize. But the pressure it was putting on my neck was unbelievable. The entire barrel weighing maybe 35 -45 pounds was suspended form my head, draping down and resting on the small of my back. I faced a one mile walk back to the shack.

Luckily, I did not have to walk the mile. The other two guys on our team wanted their turn. But the whole exercise proved to me just how tough these women are. Twice a day, Amos’ aunt makes this trip. But, she would also carry two water jugs in her free hands, and her sister’s baby often tied to her waist. Oh, and remember, she is 7 months pregnant.

It was just another way that my eyes have been opened to the plight of the poor. We live such sheltered lives, so sheltered in fact that it’s hard to comprehend.

When we arrived back at the shack, Amos’ aunt asked us a question that left us cold.

“Where do you have to go to get your water,” she asked smiling.

For what seemed like an eternity, no one answered. How could we? Finally, someone said, “We have it piped into our homes.” Her smile faded a bit, as she looked at our interpreter quizzically. I couldn’t wait to explain it any further.

We told Amos goodbye, and waved a cheerful farewell to Faith and sweet Lorna. A sweet, happy family, one that is blessed greatly by the Lord’s provision through Compassion International.

Compassion International and Kenya, Day 3

Let me tell you about today. I am actually a day behind posting because of some internet issues. I was going to post about the time we spent yesterday with the Maassai people. But today was too good to wait.

If I could encourage you to do something, I would urge you to find time to read this post, not for me or for anything I might say. Find time to read this because of what happened today across the globe. It’s a story of what happens weekly around the world. And it is a wonderful, wonderful thing.

Today, we went to visit a Compassion Project, KE-372. The coolest thing about today? It’s Saturday, which means the project was in full force . . . full to the brim with children.

KE-372 is located in the Mathari slums. I was told these were the worst slums in Kenya, some of the worst in Africa. I believe it. You pull off the main road and into another world. A world that is primal and edgy. The smells and sights can’t be recounted here in a way you could understand. You truly have to be there.

But as we neared the project, something strange happened. Singing. Children singing. Music, praise music wafted over the high walls of the church compound. When we pulled up, we were greeted with the sounds of a hundred children running into the parking lot. They formed a group and sang to us. Welcome . . .

I wish you could have heard their sweet voices sing these words: “In the morning, that’s when I praise you/ In the evening that’s when I praise you. / In the morning that’s when I praise you. / You are, you are, so faithful, so faithful.” These children, children of the slums, children of poverty, praise God with a joy many (if not most) do not know. I am not generalizing or romanticizing. I have seen it the whole time we have been here. These children know more about God than most adults I know. They know God in a way I probably never will. And it shows.

We followed the children inside for the most amazing time of praise and worship. Have you ever been in a church with 200 African children lifting their voices in praise to the Lord? If you haven’t, let me assure you, it will change your life. There will be singing in heaven that sounds like this. What a sweet sound it must be to the Lord. And what a glimpse of heaven it was:

“I looked and there before me was a great multitude that no one could count, from every nation, tribe, people and language, standing before the throne and in front of the Lamb.”—Revelation 7:9

The pastor of the project—a wonderful preacher, really—gave us a message on Psalm 119:105 about God’s Word being a lamp to our feet and a light to our path. We left the service and while the children attended some classes, we went to do a quick home visit of one of the children in the project.

We walked a few hundred meters into the slums. We were accompanied by several locals, which is probably the only thing that kept us from getting in pretty serious trouble. The slums don’t mess around. Mary, an angelic little girl, with the sweetest shaved head (very common for little girls) and the softest eyes, led us through a sensory-assaulting, winding maze of filth and squalor until we finally reached her home. Her mother was waiting for us, and we stepped inside to visit her.

Mary’s mother sells mango’s and bananas. Because of this, Mary probably has something to eat each day. But even that is not a sure thing. We visited with Mary and her mother for 10 or 15 minutes. We prayed for Mary, her mother Nancy, and her brother Peter. We then left to go back to the Project.

When we got back, the games were going on. Games are by far the children’s most looked forward to part of the day they spend at the Project. These field games are a loud, joyous occasion, with the project splitting into two teams to play each other in a variety of games. Each side cheers and chants, dances and laughs as team members participate in various water games, egg walks, and sack races. It was a great time.

It was during these games that I first met Daniel. Daniel is a small boy for his age, with big brown eyes and a soft, sweet voice. I took my place next to him in a circle for one of the games, and from that moment on, I was hooked. He held my hand for most of the day, and was constantly pulling me down to his level to explain a game, or a song. He basically adopted me.

When I walked over to talk with a Compassion staffer, Daniel walked with me, waiting silently behind me for me to finish. Then, he would take my hand to lead me to see something . . . his friends, or a game . . . He was an incredible host. But he was the first of countless numbers of children I would meet, children that floored me with their kindness, joy, sense of humor, playfulness, and curiosity.

I will never forget them.

I will not forget Elton, with his broad face and sparkling eyes.

I will not forget Allen and his confidence.

I will not forget Regina and her beautifully intricate braids.

I will not forget Charity and her precocious, playful manner.

I will not forget Jane and her perpetual movement, dancing to some vibrant, internal tune.

I will not forget Antone and his knack for being the center of attention wherever we went.

I will not forget Abby, and her shy-but-proud smile when I told her my daughter’s name was Abby, as well.

I will not forget George, Dennis, Elijah, Samuel, and sweet, shy Aliza.

They are children of God. Precious, valuable, prized children of God.

It came time to leave the project. You cannot imagine how difficult this was. Along with everyone else on our team, I said goodbye to all our new friends.  As I walked toward the car, Daniel pulled me down to his level one last time. He looked at me earnestly, with no trace of the smile that had graced his face the whole day.

“Please, take me with you to the US,” he said.

Oh, how my heart sank. I tried to speak, yet no words came out. I could not breath for a moment, the air sucked out of my lungs. If only he knew. If only he knew what I would give to take him and his friends away from this life. But that is not why we are here.

I choked back the tears. “Daniel, I would. I wish I could, But this is your home. This is where your family is. And you are so blessed to know the Lord, to be in a Compassion Project, and to have a sponsor who loves you. You stay here.”

The smile returned. “We will see each other again,” he said. “I know it.”

I wanted so badly to tell him that we would indeed meet again someday. And that when we did meet, there would be no more tears, no more hunger, no more fear . . . only perfection and glory. Abundantly, eternally. But I didn’t. I had to walk away. I didn’t get far before I lost it. I had stayed strong the whole trip until that moment. But  I could not keep it in any longer.

Photo: Drew Francis (www.drewfrancis.com)

Photo: Drew Francis (www.drewfrancis.com)

Photo: Drew Francis (www.drewfrancis.com)

Compassion International is real. The program works. There may not be another organization like it in the world. Right now, children are being released from poverty’s grasp in the name of Jesus Christ, thanks to Compassion staffers, social workers, pastors, teachers, and sponsors.

God redeems. Joy is alive. Love rules.

Compassion International and Kenya, Day 2

I did not get a chance to blog yesterday because of some spotty Internet connection. But I am not sure I would have been much good anyway, as I needed some time to process what will forever be a watershed moment in my life.

I met Amy today. Not Emmy, as the packet listed her. Amy. And let me tell you . . . this girl is something. I was worried the encounter might be awkward . . . I was worried she would be uncomfortable, or embarrassed. But nothing could have been farther from the truth.

The moment we were introduced, there was an instant connection. Amy has the brightest, most expressive brown eyes you will ever see, and a million-watt smile that lights up the room. Some of our other team members were amazed at just how beautiful and joy-filled this little girl is. Made all the more spectacular considering she lives in some of the worst slums in the world.

Along with other gifts, I gave her the framed pictures of my daughters holding a picture of her! You’ve never seen a child glow like she did. I think she grew two inches on the spot. I gave her a picture of my family and showed her my wife. She stroked her face with her tiny finger, smiling all the time.

One of the most privileged moments of my life occurred when Amy and I walked hand in hand through the Kibera slums. I can only imagine what we must have looked like, an odd couple to say the least. Along with Amy (from Student Life) and Ben (from Compassion), I was humbly and graciously welcomed into Amy’s home by her mother, Margaret. But it was I who would be humbled. We sat in the 8X8 living space, a single room where 7 people live, a room with no power or running water, a room whose walls were made out of mud, a room sitting two feet from the flow of a stream made entirely of human waste . . . but a room, a home, where I was welcomed as a family member. Margaret is a dignified, kind, noble woman whose slight, decorative touches in her home created beauty in the midst of ugliness.

This woman, this saint, who can praise God without irony or bitterness in the midst of suffocating poverty prayed for me . . . for me . . . and for my family. All the while, Amy’s held my hand tightly, never once taking her eyes off me, never once losing her amazing smile.

I will never forget it.

We stayed as long as we could, knowing if we stayed for days it would not be enough. When I walked away, Amy cried. She held my hand, hugged me, and buried her face in my shirt. I held it together, but barely . . .

Margaret accompanied me back out of the slums, talking the whole way about the difference Compassion has made in their life, and about how she deals with her situation. Margaret warmly embraced each person in our group, looking lovely in the colorful scarf my wife picked out for her. As I walked away, a large piece of my heart stayed back.

I have to return. I have to show my wife, and maybe my daughters. There is a family in Kibera slums who is a part of our family. How I miss them already . . .

Amy, her mother Margaret, and me outside of her home

As I said, more pics and vids and descriptions to come when we get home.

Compassion International, Kenya Day 1

After nearly twenty hours of flights, we made it to Kenya safely. We were welcomed warmly by Susan, one of the shining stars of the Compassion Kenya office. Before we left the airport she prayed for our group . . . a kind, heartfelt prayer of thanks for the time we will be spending here.

We got to the hotel late last night, and thus could not really get a sense of the city. Drew Francis (Student Life’s Creative Director and one of my buds) and I got up at dawn and went for a brief run through the streets surrounding our hotel. The city came alive around us . . . literally. People walking to work, buses, cars, bikes, motorcycles . . . It was invigorating.

We will eat breakfast as a group then head to visit Compassions country office. We’re all excited about meeting the team that works here in Nairobi. We will then head to the Kibera (probably misspelled) slums where we will tour a Compassion Project and where I will meet our newest Compassion child, Emmy. (To read more about how we came about sponsoring her, read my last post here.)

I am surprisingly nervous. I woke up early this morning (in part because there was a pretty loud car wreck in the street outside of our room) thinking about this little girl and what an incredible opportunity it is to be able to meet her. I want her to be comfortable . . . I don’t want her to be anxious or put on the spot, you know? I just want her to understand how much our family loves her in the name of Christ, and how badly we want to see her life and her family’s life improved through hope in Christ and through the generosity and love of Compassion International.

Kenya, Compassion International, and Student Life

For those of you who have wondered where I’ve been, I’ve just been taking a much needed break. Not from writing or anything, just writing here. But, I wanted to jump back in because of something really cool that’s happening.

I am leaving today for a nine-day trip to Kenya. Along with a bunch of friends from Student Life, we are traveling with Compassion International to Kenya. Needless to say, I am pumped. Let me give you the super quick rundown of the particulars of the trip.

Student Life began a partnership a few years back with Compassion. Our goal was to see children get sponsored through our summer youth camps. After tweaking the process, Roger Davis (our VP of events) and his team have come up with a strategy has proven remarkably successful for seeing children get sponsored.

Roger and the gang figured out that an LDP student, someone who has been through Compassion’s child sponsorship program and is now in the Leadership Development Program, could be a much more effective advocate for Compassion that we could. So, each summer, LDP students travel with our camp teams. They speak from the stage about the difference Christ, sponsorship, and Compassion have made in their lives. This partnership and relational strategy has led to the sponsorship of thousands of children.

But here’s the cool part . . . Not only do LDP students come to the States and speak about Compassion at our camps, but we go to where the LDP’s live and shoot a documentary about their life and their surroundings. Thus, the reason for the trip to Kenya.

While we’re there we will get the chance to experience more than just our LDP’s stories. We’ll tour the Compassion office, tour several projects, and get to actually hang out with any children that our team members might sponsor.

Which brings me to Emmy . . .

As many of you know, we had a Haitian child we had sponsored for 5 years leave the Compassion program. We were heartbroken. (You can read about it here.) And he has been on our hearts and minds so often in recent days. Of course we wanted to sponsor another child, and we knew I was going to Kenya, so . . . Enter Emmy.

She is a bright eyed, nine-year old with a huge smile . . . A perfect new addition to our family. I will get to meet her in just a few days, and I am so excited. I have a cute pink backpack full of pictures, clothes, and little trinkets, all gifts from my three beautiful daughters and wife. My girls have embraced this sweet child in such an amazing way. They are all jealous that I get to meet her and communicate our family’s sentiments in person.

I will keep updating this blog with pictures and thoughts. I will be journaling extensively, so look forward to some updates.

Next stop, Kenya.

Don’t Worry About Me. I’m Just . . .

Want to know what I’m doing today? And tomorrow? And next week? Well, here it is:

Working on various Student Life Bible Study resources for next year . . .

Always have a few article ideas in my head . . .

And, working on a sort-of secret project I really can’t talk about. (ooooohhh . . .)

Good thing I like writing, ’cause I sure as heck am doing a lot of it.

When Christmas Ain’t Fun

So, we all have different sides to ourselves . . . Mostly I devote my time to writing Bible Study resources for teenagers. Except when I don’t . . .

My lovely wife and I help facilitate our church’s grief outreach. My wife is a grief counselor. I’m just a dude who has (unfortunately) dealt with a lot  of loss in his young life.

So, one of the areas I write and speak about is grief and loss.

For lots of folks, the holidays have a sort of cloud over them. These are people for whom Christmas is a reminder of a void. A void left by the death of a spouse, child, or some other significant loved one.

I spoke at a banquet our church gave for those who have lost someone this year, a banquet focusing on finding hope amidst grief in this holiday season.

I thought I would post the talk here. If this applies to you, please read on. If not, recommend it to someone who might struggle some this Christmas due to grief.

And as always, let me know what you think or if I can help you.

It was Thursday morning, October 6th, 2005. It was a little before 10:00 AM. I was sitting in a cubicle at Student Life, editing a Bible Study lesson for teenagers. My desk phone rang. I looked at the number. One of my brothers was calling me from their shared home in Athens. I picked up the phone and was greeted by the hysterical voice of my middle brother.

“He killed himself. Paul killed himself.”

I remember telling my brother to call me back on my cell phone and hanging up. Walking out of our office space, one of my co-workers asked, “Is everything OK?” I answered him . . . No.

Paul was my baby brother. He was my best friend in the world. His loss changed something inside of me. In some ways, forever. The days after his death were awful. They were so hard! I remember the waves of emotions coming over me in the days after his death. I remember wanting to just surrender to it. Just sit in it. Wallow in it. Let it overtake me.

But here is an interesting thing: God saw me through my grieving.

Certainly, the kind words and emotional support of my wife helped. And there were other gracious people who made healing easier. But it was God who literally pulled me through it. He saw me through the lowest time in my life. He has seen many of you through yours, as well.

Some of you, however, are in the midst of your low time. Some of you are seeking out God each day to bring you through this valley.

Even those of us who have come through the most imposing moments of our grief journey are susceptible to being sucked back in during the holidays.

So, regardless of who you are, I want to speak to you very briefly today. I want to speak to you as someone who has been in the valley. Someone who has looked for God in the shadows and could not always find Him. Someone who cried out to God for comfort when there was none.

In those dark times, I remember feeling like God was very far away from me. What a terrible feeling in such a distressing time. I remember not understanding why I couldn’t feel God’s presence. And I remember this really giving me great pause. Maybe you can relate?

Well, I want you to know that I read something the other day that I believe God alerted me to, knowing I had this talk to give, knowing it was on my mind. It is an amazing commentary on this very subject. And I want to share it with you.

Joey Shaw, one of the pastors from The Austin Stone Community Church in Austin, was doing mission work in China. While in China, on November 8th, Joey was robbed by a group of Chinese youth. In the attack, he was cut by a straight razor on from his ear to his cheek.

Reading the accounts, it sounds like a horrifying experience. I will save you the details. Several days after the attack, Joey wrote an amazing blog post where he detailed the reflections God had lead him to in the wake of this attack. He said something profound I wanted to share with you today, something that resonated very deeply with me as it pertains to the days following my brothers death.

This is what Joey said:

Sometimes the Lord might keep us from feelings so that we will rely on simple faith in His written promises. Immediately after the attack, as we ran for safety and sought medical care, I wanted to feel the Lord’s presence with us. Our hearts were racing, our emotions were barely steady as blood gushed from my wound onto my shirt and pants. I wanted the physical comfort of the Lord’s presence. But I did not feel it; rather, I had to believe it. Where my feelings failed, my mind thrived. I remembered Scripture and believed it. My heart followed the leadership of my head and believed in the Lord’s comfort and presence even when I did not feel it.

What a deeply profound thought. “I wanted the physical comfort of the Lord’s presence. But I did not feel it; rather, I had to believe it.”

I can relate so much to this thought in the days and weeks after my brother died. I remember wanting so badly to be comforted by God, and feeling perplexed when I did not feel comforted. I think this was the biggest question I had in processing grief. “God, why didn’t you make me feel comforted?”

I believe Joey nailed it.

Our feelings are so fickle, aren’t they? They can deceive us. We can feel one thing one moment, another the next. We can feel badly when everything seems to be going great. We can feel great when all around us is falling apart. So, it is no wonder that sometimes, in the midst of extreme grief, we do not feel God’s presence. We do not feel comforted.

What this Joey reminds us, and what I am fond of reminding others in a time of trouble or separation from God, is that God always is.

God is always near.

God is constant.

God always is!

Malachi 3:6 says, “I the LORD do not change.”

Isaiah 40:28 says  “The LORD is the everlasting God . . . He will not grow tired or weary.”

He is always there with us. He is never far away. Whether we feel Him or not changes nothing about this fact.

God is our comforter. How do we know this? Because the Bible tells us.

May your unfailing love be my comfort, according to your promise to your servant. Psalm 119:76

God is our healer. How do we know? Because the Bible tells us.

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. Psalm 147:3

God is the giver of peace. The Bible tells us this is true.

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. Not as the world gives do I give to you. John 14:27

One of the most important things we can do is turn to God’s Word in times of darkness, in times of trouble. Everything in your body might rebel from this idea. Your spirit may tell you the last thing it needs is to read the Bible.

But God has chosen His Word to be the primary way He communicates to us. And He has given His Spirit to help lead you to encountering Him through the Bible: “But the Helper, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, he will teach you all things and bring to your remembrance all that I have said to you” (John 14:26 ).

God longs to communicate with you in your time of grief. Proverbs 8:17 says “I love those who love me, and those who seek me diligently find me.”

When you do not feel God, when you are overwhelmed by your situation, God has given you His promises, in His Word, to sustain you.

My word for you today is to seek God in His Word.

I Can Relate

So, Drew and Chris have been playing with a fun new site. I’m hooked. I think you will be too. Here’s my go at it: