“The thief comes only to steal and kill and
destroy….”
-John 10:10
Unfortunately, the latest season
of my life has proven this scripture to be true. What were once mere words on a page of my
Bible have transformed into a literal battle throughout the past six months. During this time, I have been arrested, harassed,
mocked, grabbed by strange men far too many times, lied to, robbed, struck by
illness, and betrayed by people who said they loved me. The challenges during my time in Uganda have
been unrelenting, and though worn out by it all, I’m not terribly surprised by
the battle. The Lord is unveiling great
plans and great vision, and the enemy will do whatever he can to thwart them.
The thief comes to steal.
Sadly, the culture of betrayal is
extremely common in Uganda. It’s fairly
normal to be lied to and even to be betrayed by people close to you. As an American, I’m often viewed as nothing
but a walking dollar sign, and it feels like there is an irremovable target on
my back. It frustrates me that many
Ugandans throw me into the same socioeconomic category as the wealthy foreign
ambassadors or successful business people that live in Uganda. Though I live off of donations instead of earning
a real salary, many people assume I am dripping with money. When strangers misinterpret my economic
status, it’s a bit irritating, but when people who really know me still treat
me like a bank, it’s downright hurtful. Last
month, I experienced an act of betrayal by one of the boys I live with who
decided I was an easy target for cash. I
had sacrificed countless hours pouring into this boy and trying to show him
love, believing he cared about me in return.
I was crushed to find out that he’d snuck into my room, rummaged through
my suitcase, and stolen a decent amount of money from me. To realize a beloved member of my own
household had deceived me in this way was incredibly painful.
At first, when I discovered what
he’d done, I felt too hurt to confront him.
I wasn’t angry; I was just sad and had no words for him. After a few days, I pulled him aside to talk
about what had happened. I told him that
he is a natural leader – because he is – and that other people will always
follow him throughout life. I explained
that this is both a gift and a heavy responsibility, because we are all
responsible for what we’ve been given and accountable for what we do with
it. I explained that the younger boys in
the house look to him and will follow his lead.
If he steals and lies, they will eventually do the same. If he walks in righteousness, they will
admire him and try to emulate his behaviors.
As I explained his potential to influence others, he nodded in understanding. My voice started shaking as I told the boy,
“Money is just a material thing, and I can get it back. But when someone who you love betrays you, it
hurts.” Tears streaming down my cheeks, I
paused to see him looking down in shame.
I continued, “But I still love you, and I forgive you. No matter what, I will love you.” Ahhh,
there was agony in my heart as I looked my betrayer in the eyes and forgave him
despite the pain I was feeling. It’s one
thing to acknowledge that the enemy steals from us. It’s another to realize that this too often
manifests through people we love.
Sadly, the agony in my heart only
got worse as the betrayals, lies, and stealing continued throughout the
following weeks. Despite my tears,
despite offering forgiveness, despite telling this child he could do better
with his life - he continued to stab me in the back and disrespect me. Yet, when I stopped to really think about this boy or pray about his life, I saw that the
enemy was not only trying to steal from me in this season; he was trying to steal
from this child. He was attempting to
turn a boy with great destiny and leadership into a criminal - into a person
who cannot be loved or trusted. He was
trying to steal this boy’s life.
About a week after confronting
this boy, I was sitting in church a few rows over from him. He was holding a toddler in his arms and
laughing as he looked at the baby. I’d
never seen him play with a tiny child before and was honestly surprised that he
was enjoying it. Then suddenly, I saw a
flash of his future before me – of who God called him to be. It was an odd moment that’s hard to explain where
I was seeing him physically in front of me in the present but somehow
spiritually seeing him in the future simultaneously. I saw this boy as a father, playing with his
own children, loving them with a deep father’s love. It was as if God showed me a prophetic image
of who He has made this child to be. He
is calling him to be a dad one day, to love kids, to be an honest provider and
a loving dad in place of the father he grew up with. Once again, God reminded me that the one who
had stolen from me was also in a battle where the enemy was trying to steal from
him.
The thief comes to kill.
This sentence gets scary when
it’s literal. I don’t normally worry
about dying or getting sick while overseas, but this past season gave me a
pretty good scare. I’ve had some funky
sicknesses a handful of times, but they’ve all gone away on their own. However, last month brought a horrifying
medical experience I never anticipated.
One afternoon, out of nowhere, my head started throbbing, and I began to
burn with a high fever. I went to bed
hoping I’d wake up feeling better, but the next morning was worse. The fever was still quite high, and I started
to get violently sick to my stomach. I
rotated between my bed and my bathroom, in terrible pain, shaking and shivering
at times and sweating to death at others.
I wondered if I had malaria and went to get a blood test at a reputable
hospital in Kampala. Little did I know,
this would be my first of many visits.
For the next few weeks, my life
turned into a bad episode of Grey’s
Anatomy. My fever lingered for
almost a full month, stumping doctor after doctor. Because my initial blood work tested normal,
they couldn’t pinpoint the cause of the fever.
The doctors began to play a guessing game and treated me for a variety
of diseases. First, I was told I might
have bilharzia. This is a parasite that
lives in the Nile and Lake Victoria that can move to your brain or nervous
system, causing life-long complications, death, or insanity. Then, the doctor diagnosed me with
rickettsia, a dangerous disease spread by rats, an animal my house is full
of. The medication for both diagnoses
did absolutely nothing. Weeks went by,
and my fever continued and the weakness in my body would not relent.
After almost a month, I decided
to pursue further testing. The doctor
ruled out the major African concerns – typhoid, TB, dengue, malaria, etc. Feeling few options were left, I asked the
doctor, “Well, what could be the
cause of a month-long fever?” He paused
and said that often in cases like mine, the verdict was liver cancer.
Liver cancer?! Shocked
that he’d just thrown out the C-word, I tried to hold in my tears and not show
my fear. Don’t cry in front of the doctor, I told myself. Keep
yourself composed. The doctor ordered
me to get a chest X-ray first to see if there were any odd growths, then told
me I needed an ultrasound to look at my liver and other organs. He directed me towards the opposite end of
the hospital, where I nervously walked to the testing area. The doctor said I needed a full bladder for
the ultrasound even though he’d taken a urine sample about ten minutes
prior. “Drink like a fish,” he stated as
he left me alone by a large water jug. A
second doctor passed by and told me it would probably take twenty to thirty
minutes to have a full enough bladder to do the ultrasound. He left me with the cups and water jug and
said he’d test me after I chugged at least eight cups worth. I drank until I felt like I was going to
vomit and then took my cup to a chair outside of the ultrasound room. I sipped on my last cup of water, no one in
sight. I sat in the chair of the dark
hospital hallway alone for what felt like an eternity. Though it was actually only twenty minutes or
so, you’d be amazed at how many thoughts can go through your mind in those
minutes. I had deep, painful thoughts
flooded with memories of loved ones whose lives had been stolen from cancer as
well as my own mother’s battle with cancer.
Then I had silly, superficial thoughts like how sad I would be to lose
my hair after growing it so long for years.
Then the logical thoughts came, wondering how I would pay for treatments
and if I would have to stay in Uganda. Finally,
I told myself to stop thinking about the potential of having cancer and decided
that I would cross that bridge when I came to it.
At last, I was ready for my
ultrasound and laid on a table as the doctor squirted cold, blue fluid onto my
stomach. I was struck by the irony of
how so many of my friends have been getting ultrasounds lately to discover the
gender of their babies, looking forward to their appointments. And there I lay in an African hospital,
getting an ultrasound of my liver to see whether or not I could potentially
have cancer. That moment perfectly
embodied the word “alone.”
I watched the ultrasound screen,
honestly having no idea what I was looking for, and nervously asked the doctor
how my organs looked. “They look good,”
he said, as a sense of relief flooded my entire being. “Everything looks normal.”
“So I don’t have cancer?!” I
asked excitedly.
“No,” he smiled. “No way.”
The doctor paused for a few
moments, clearly confused as to why my organs and blood all looked normal, yet
my persistent fever kept making me sick.
“Are people doing witchcraft on you or something?” He sounded only half serious, but his
question made me wonder. The doctor never
found anything conclusive, so was this all just a spiritual battle manifesting
in my flesh?
The following day, I made a
conscious decision to worship in spite of my circumstances, and my fever began
to disappear. I went to church and
decided to worship the Lord and thank Him for my healing. A man from the church went up front to share
a testimony of how God had cured him of a fever and stated that he believed the
testimony was for someone in the congregation.
I clung to his story and believed the same healing for myself. By the end of the week, my month-long fever
was gone.
The thief comes to destroy.
Throughout my sickness, the enemy
tried to destroy my dreams. While being
so ill, I felt my vision for Africa getting blurry and my passion evaporating a
bit. I was too tired to fight for my
dreams, too exhausted to feel anything except sickness and frustration. Gradually, I realized my vision was in even
more danger than my body. The human part
of me wanted to give up, go home, and throw out my dreams in exchange for an
easier one. Countless people sent me
messages telling me to come home.
However, I clung to the words and promises the Lord had spoken to
me. I knew He had told me to return to
Uganda after seven years away, a biblical number signifying completion. I believed He wanted me to reclaim some
dreams that had been lost seven years ago and would be faithful if I pursued
them. Though tempted to give up, I
decided to explore what God could possibly have in store for me.
I spent time with my dear friend
Simon, one of the boys who I had taken care of many years ago when I lived in
an orphanage in a different part of Kampala.
The thirteen-year-old I said goodbye to in 2007 is now a huge
twenty-year-old who makes me feel tiny whenever I stand next to him. Seven years have grown him into an amazing,
godly man. Simon (and the other children
I lived with back then) are all from Gulu, an area in Northern Uganda that was
ravaged by war for decades. I’d visited
Northern Uganda in 2006 and 2007 in the hopes of one day helping orphans
there. Unfortunately, the partner I had
planned on working with almost died of malaria and very abruptly left Uganda in
May 2007. Our plans and vision for
Northern Uganda were shattered, and I remained in Kampala feeling abandoned and
heartbroken. Ironically, exactly seven
years later, I was now the one fighting serious illness. When all the potential diagnoses were thrown
at me, the Lord reminded me that illness had been what triggered a decision that
stole my dream exactly seven years ago.
I felt Him asking me, “Will you let your vision be stolen again? Or will you stay and fight for it?” Every bit of my flesh cried out, “I’m giving
up!” Yet, my spirit cried out, “I will
stay!”
While visiting Simon, I told him
that I wanted to help children in Northern Uganda and needed his help. He shared his similar vision of returning to
Gulu and said he needed my help. As we spoke,
we experienced a beautiful moment of redemption where I realized that Simon’s
dreams and my dreams were one in the same, and neither one could reach the
dream without the others’ help. Simon
had been praying for years to find a way to help the people in his own tribe but
lacked the resources. My dreams had been
shattered, and I was looking for a way to reclaim them but needed someone to
partner with. The beauty of the Lord’s
timing struck my heart as I realized if I’d returned to Uganda earlier, Simon
would have been too young to work with.
However, because he’d grown up over the past several years, God was
giving me an opportunity to work alongside
the boy I’d once cared for.
Another friend of ours, Pastor
Robert, was also involved in the orphanage ministry where Simon and I lived
back in the day. Pastor Robert currently
lives in Soroti, a village with a similar history as Gulu in Northern Uganda. He is already working with orphans and widows
out in the bush but is eager for more help.
In the midst of the enemy trying to steal, kill, and destroy my life, I
paused to thank God for Pastor Robert and Simon. I realized their roles in my life are vital,
and our relationships are no coincidence.
Pastor Robert is like my African Papa, Simon like my brother. God has opened up the doors for me to work with
my Ugandan family to reclaim the lost visions the enemy once tried to destroy.
Yes, it’s true that the thief
comes to steal and kill and destroy, but that is only the first half of John
10:10. The second part of the scripture
reminds us of the good news. Even though
the enemy is always working against us, we have a much stronger God working for us.
In the latter half of John 10:10, Jesus says, “…I have come that they
may have life, and have it to the full.” The enemy has worked tirelessly to steal,
kill, and destroy from me during this season of my life. It’s been discouraging, painful, and
exhausting. Fortunately, the enemy’s
work is never the end of the story. God’s
plan for good is always bigger than the enemy’s plan for evil.
The enemy tried to steal.
The boy who betrayed me is in
God’s hands. I don’t know what his
future will look like, but I’ve seen a glimpse of the redemption God wants for
him. The fact that he stole from me just
reminds me more than ever to pray for him and for God’s plans to flourish in
his life.
The enemy tried to kill.
Though I spent most of last month
in bed, I’m happy to report that I am healthy now. My energy is back, and my fever is long gone. Sickness thwarted my plans seven years ago,
but it did not succeed this time!
The enemy tried to destroy.
The enemy tried to steal my
vision, but God has restored it. Every
dream that was lost in 2007 has transformed into an even greater dream for the
season ahead. Every vision that got
blurry during these past six months has been refined and purified. A season of trials is being replaced by a
season of redemption and restoration.
God is writing a beautiful story.
When the enemy tried to steal, Jesus gave us blessings
in abundance.
When the enemy tried to kill, Jesus gave us
new life.
When the enemy tried to destroy, Jesus
restored and redeemed.
“…I have come that they may have life, and
have it to the full.”
John 10:10
