Wede Bet (Goin Home)

 

   “Last night, Kayla!” Cherrie exclaimed.

My last night? I guess it is… By the time this blog lands in your inboxes, I will be hovering over the Atlantic. Thank you, Charles, for making it so that I don’t have to do this by ship. It’s tomorrow? Wow. Not very poetic, I know, but that’s really the word that has come out of my mouth the most this week. Wow.

I just read my first blog from July, 2012. In the middle I said:

“There are so many unknowns about this year. Yet, I remain excited to see what God will make out of me, how He will change me, and what He will do with me in Ethiopia.”

I study my tired feet on the coffee table and think about what God did make of me, how He changed me, and how He used me in Ethiopia this year. Um…again, wow. I marvel at those changes.

My best friend from nursing school, Caitlin, could tell you. I filled her blue eyes with pictures and her ears with stories of Ethiopia for the longest two years of our young lives. She kindly never told me to talk about something different, and I never did! She always said she was going to come visit me in Ethiopia when I was living there. A lot of people say that, and no one has ever come. But Caitlin came. J
She came two hours late on a midnight flight from Kenya on September 1^st. We planned for her to come for the last ten days of my time here. I was so excited for her to come. I had a sticky note on my computer screen entitled: Stuff to Do with Caitlin. It has been a wonderful week of showing her my world here, which is so very different from any world she has ever known. I took Caitlin to my clinic twice, where we saw patients together.

On the last day we had some really tough patients.
 A young man who had gotten his foot run over by a grinder at work came in. He had a blood soaked bandage wrapped around his toes. I pealed it off the wound and found old loosened stitches that were supposedly holding his severed skin together. The gash went across his big toe and the second one. I took those stitches out, and replaced them with new ones. Caitlin opened my packages and handed me my tools. (For any of my CCC instructors that are reading this, we did keep sterile procedure.) ;) Thank you again to the emergency room doctors who taught me to suture a short time ago. We wrapped his toes afresh, gave him a baggie to change his dressings, and instructed him to go to a clinic to have the stitches removed.

One woman limped in on swollen feet. She fell into the plastic chair and struggled through pursed lips to breathe. Her lungs were a mess, her heart beat was irregular and fast, blood pressure was high. The urinalysis led us to believe her kidneys weren’t doing their job. Caitlin shook her head. “She needs a cardiac specialist.” I agreed. We do have some cardiac and respiratory medicines in the clinic, but when we run out it’s gone. We are not able to do proper follow-up, and that was my last day there. I had taken the remainder of my tithe to give away to a patient at the clinic. I closed the money in her hand and told her to go to the cardiac clinic in the city. She also told me that part of her home had been demolished by the government as they built a road in that area. She was living in half a house with her alcoholic husband. Before she left, we all gathered around her and prayed. We prayed over her health, her marriage, her financial situation, and her spiritual life. By the Amen, everyone was crying. We hugged her good-bye, and she puffed out the door. As soon as she left I dismissed myself to the store room and fell apart. My last day in the clinic brought a lot of surprised emotions. At this moment there is no one to replace me. The clinic falls under Great Hope, the Ethiopian NGO I have been working under. Emily and I have been volunteers, but we are leaning toward handing it over to the Ethiopian people so they are not dependant on us foreigners. The Ethiopian nurse would need a salary, but at this point there is not a budget with which to hire one. Pray that God provides a sponsor to pay for a nurse’s salary. Until He provides those funds, the clinic door is closed.

           I asked Caitlin if she thought I had changed. She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. You grew up a lot.” She said I was less naïve, and now knew how to just get things done. “For example,” She threw a hand out for emphasis, “when we were in Korah and I had to go to the bathroom. You showed me the hole and I said, ‘Eww! No way’. You were like, ‘Don’t be a baby! Just pull down your pants and go!’”
           While I did indeed become very comfortable squatting over a hole, the greater changes took place in my heart. This year, I saw tragedy and loss, victory and salvations, birth and death, suffering and relief of suffering. I saw so much. In everything I walked through, there was only one thing that remained consistent. Jesus Christ, my hope of glory, is all that I need. He is. He is all that you need too. In America, the land of plenty and material blessing, we are often distracted by our possessions. The word for “stuff” in Amharic is Ika. I think it’s one of those words that sound like their meaning. Ika. Stuff. When we are sitting in the middle of all our ika it’s hard to see. There is not a lot of ika here in Ethiopia. But, believe it or not there is plenty of distraction here too.

Most people who have been on short term mission trips think that being a missionary on a foreign field is just a long term spiritual high. I can now testify and affirm that it is not. This year was the most spiritually rigorous period of time I have ever experienced. Even on the mission field, I had to intentionally make time to spend in prayer and in God’s Word. The Christian community here is small, making fellowship hard to find. The presence of Satan is real and heavy in the places I have been working. This year was hard. My family, my friends, my community, my home, English speakers, convenience, deli meat sandwiches were all on the other side of the ocean. (No one judge me on the sandwiches.) My few American friends here and I would look at each other and bemoan the things we were missing. Our ika. We moan and joke together about what we miss, but I know all my friends here would agree that Ethiopia will teach you that Jesus Christ is all that we need. We were put on this earth to know God, and to bring glory to His name. Regardless of where He has called you, in the home of your birth or a mud house in the Congo, know God. Bring Him glory. He is all that you need.

I am flying home as you read. Please pray for my transition back to America. I do not expect it to be easy. I don’t know where God will have me put my next step. I’ll keep you posted. Thank you for following with me on this journey and for your prayers and support.

I love you all, and I’ll see you on the other side.

Big Hands, Little Hands

Light bullied its way through the window this morning, long before I was ready for it. I rolled over and willed my eyeballs open. 6:45? “Are you kidding me?” I said out loud. “Why am I awake?!” I was never able to keep myself in bed for very long after waking up, so after making a quick mental list of the 75 things I had to do before getting back in bed, I was standing. “Oh look! A nice new patch of flea bites! Awesome.”

The toothpaste was cold and the water was colder. My teeth like them cold. Hoodie, water glass, vitamin C…yes indeed I am ready to meet the morning. I found a lonely leftover pancake in the kitchen. “Dibs on this!” I declared as I headed out the door. I don’t know why we always put syrup on these when they’re so good by themselves!

I taxied to the clinic and found maybe 40 sitting people lined up outside the clinic gate. As I approached they all stood to their feet and rushed the door. As I came closer they pressed into me, each trying to make their case to take priority in the line. I ducked into the yard where more people were lying on benches inside.

A man named Mike pushed his way through the gate. “Kayla I need you.” “You have to wait in line with everyone else, Mike.” I need to get my guard a bigger stick…

“I will take 25!” I yelled to the guard with the little stick. “Let only 25 people inside.” I closed the door behind me and set up the room.

Before I was ready, an elderly woman volunteered herself to be first and forced open the door. She hobbled into the exam room in bare calloused feet. Her back hurt. Not many American elderly know life without ibuprofen, and most of us young people take it for granted. But here, a little baggie of ibuprofen can make all the difference. She bestowed enough blessings for the rest of my life on her way out the door.

The next patient was even older. He came in leaning on a metal cane. His beard was grey and haggard. A dirty knitted cap covered his head, and he did not smile though blackened teeth. He smelled terrible. When he walked by me, I turned around to hide my expression. His right pant leg was wet down to the ankle. Even his sandal was wet. He said he couldn’t hold his pee. He also had a cough. I listened to his lungs and gave him cough medicine. I can’t do anything for his incontinence.

I saw twenty-five patients that day. A baby with chicken pox, a near blind man with holes in his shoes that were so big that I could see he had no toes, a small child whose head bled from a rock wound he suffered in a fight, and lepers with coughs and stomach aches. A young woman came in holding her son who is less than one month old. Her name is Tigist. His name is Natan. She doesn’t have a husband. She doesn’t have other children. She doesn’t have money to pay her rent, much less to feed a child. She wanted to give him to me right then. Natan was a beautiful and healthy child. I asked her if she would keep him if I could get her work and a sponsor. She said she would. Please pray that we can find her those things.

Broken hearts, broken bodies, broken lives everywhere. I can only do so much. Sometimes what God has put in my hands to do seems so little. But then, my hands are also little. God only gives me what I can handle. I love the song, “He’s Got The Whole World In His Hands”. What big hands He has! He’s got you and me brother. He’s got you and me sister. He’s got the tiny little baby. He’s got Natan.

He’s got the whole world in His hands.

Harder Than Bananas

In my last post, I mentioned that the medical team that was here taught me and Emily how use lidocaine and suture bananas.

Well, just one week later I had the opportunity to hone my new skills! Yonatan was carried into the clinic by three friends because he was so lethargic and was unable to walk. They laid him on the exam table and explained that he had been in a fight at the trash dump. It was Yonatan against three others, and they won. They beat him with rocks over the head. He had four gashes, the worst being over one of his eyebrows. It had just happened and the wound was gaping open.

“He needs stitches!” I squealed excitedly. I looked around. “I mean, aww poor guy, I bet he needs stitches...” There was a nurse from the States visiting for a couple weeks that happened to be there. She nodded her agreement and we arranged for the stitching. We cleaned it well and somehow managed to maintain a sterile field. Yonatan continued to lay still, responding only to pain.

 

                           
 
The stitching went well…but it was definitely harder than the bananas! I was so excited to be able to use this freshly taught skill. And how amazing that just the week before I had learned! God does know what we will need. If I had not been able to stitch him myself, he probably would have gone to the other clinic in Korah.

I actually get a lot of patients from that clinic. This week, a little girl named Kalkidan came in. Her eyes were swollen shut, her face disfigured from infection. One week ago she had fallen into a ditch, split her forehead open, and went to the Korah clinic. They stitched it not using sterile procedure, and she had therefore become very sick. I took those stitches out, cleaned it, and put her on an antibiotic. Kalkidan is healing well now. I marveled again at the way the Lord equipped me before I came and the way He continues to here.

My time here is winding down. Seven more weeks in country and I will have hit my 13 months. Some days it crawls. Most days it flies. It’s hard to believe it’s been a full year since I came here, and 8 months since I’ve been home. There is still much to do, so I ask for your prayers to continue as I finish. This year has been an emotional, physical, and spiritual challenge. Please pray for my energy level and my passion to stay as my time here comes to a close.

This stuff is harder than bananas. J

 

 

New Clinic!!!

Last week was an exciting one. We moved our clinic into a compound of its own.

This means "WELCOME" - I wrote it myself :)

    Emily and I got to pick the colors to paint it, and arrange everything exactly the way we liked it. It was so much fun! It’s amazing to look back and see how the Lord has brought this clinic into being. We want to make a display showing the evolution of the clinic. Starting with a backpack, progressing to a storage room, then to the previous small building, and finally to having its very own clinic compound. God is faithful to finish what he started.

There was a medical team here this last week, treating patients and teaching us. Here’s a few stories from this past week:

“He looks” –  “Like not good, yah?” “Yeah like lethargic.”

Emily and I finished each other’s sentences regarding the child laying on the examination table. His eyes were dull and unfocused. He didn’t answer my questions. Mouth dry and sticky. Alayu had been coming to the clinic for the last couple weeks for a dressing change. He had been hit by a car, and lost his left leg below the knee. His wound looked great, but this day, the rest of him did not. His aunt, who always brings him, had carried him into the clinic. She always tells us he is sixteen, but Emily and I think he might be twelve.

          “He needs an IV.” “Yeah.”

We agreed on that, but there since there were three ER doctors here we asked one for their opinion. It’s always nice to have a doctor come affirm what we are thinking. Dr. Christy came over immediately to examine him. She nodded her approval on the IV and did a full assessment on him. When she pressed on his stomach he cried out and pushed her hand away. Same reaction for both sides.

“He’s dehydrated, but there might be something worse here…”

Dr. Christy told us to give him IV Zofran (for nausea) and 500 mls of normal saline. She returned to the medical team across the street, and left us to care for Alayu. It was really fun to have doctor’s orders and function as nurses! Haha, we don’t get to do that very often! He perked up quickly with the fluids, but after the bag finished he continued to guard his abdomen when touched. Dr. Christy sent Alayu and his aunt to the hospital for an ultrasound. It came back normal, so we will continue to monitor him in the weeks to come.

 

The next day, an older looking woman came in holding a large baby under a blanket. As she laid him on the exam table we realized he was, in fact, not a baby but a child. The mother told us he was twelve years old. He had twelve year old teeth, but the rest of him mimicked a large baby.

  The mom had brought him in to show us his new “bug bites” – all over his body. Two doctors agreed that it was a meningitis rash. They proceeded to do a spinal tap right there in the clinic! A previous team had donated six saddle blocks (like epidural kits). Emily and I had always laughed about them because we would never do that, but the Lord knew what we would need.

 

We started him on IV antibiotics, going through his tibia! One of the doctors showed us how to drill into his tibia to put the IV fluids through the bone because he had no findable veins. It really looked like a hospital in there! After he finished his bag the doctor showed us how to unscrew the IO (intra osteo). We will continue his antibiotics going intra-muscular.

The doctors also taught us how to suture using bananas and use lidocaine using their own arms!!! It was awesome.

Mad skills down here…mad skills.



Oh Me of Little Faith

           “Our battle is not here, Kayla.” Murad shook his head. “It is so much spiritual things. Many devils are here.”
He told me there is a lot of demon possession in Korah. When I asked if he had ever cast one out himself, he looked at me as if I asked if he’d ever opened his eyes in the morning.
 “Of course!”
“Really?”
 “A lot of times.”
I sat staring at him with a gaping mouth. “You have?”
I was struck with the idea that this man, the one in front of me, had commanded evil spirits to get out and they heeded his word! He told me that sometimes he asks how many of them there are. Sometimes they say five or ten, and the biggest one is the spokesman. He said he always asks where it is from.
“One said, ‘I am from Sudan.’ Another, ‘I am the master of Korah.’”
Murad says, “Beu Yesus Kristos sim, hed!” (In the name of Jesus Christ, get out!)
That is all it takes. The shrieking, clawing person falls to the ground freed in the name of Jesus. Jesus’ name alone is so powerful that demons run at the sound of it from the mouth of a disciple. It is only by the power of God. Murad told me a story of one of his friends who was called to a home to cast out a demon. He walked through the door and the possessed person ran to the back of the room screaming,
“No! It’s a son of Jesus! What do you want with me? Please go! Please leave me alone!”
 Murad said sometimes the demon will ask if he can go into a sibling or a spouse, rather than leave all together. And then there are some, as Jesus said, (Matthew 17:21) that only go out by prayer and fasting. I continued to stare at him with wide eyes until he said,
“Kayla, are you scared?” I nodded that the whole demon scene was intimidating to me. “You don’t have to be scared, Kayla.” He poked my shoulder. “Greater is He who is in you than he who is in the world.”
My first response was, “I know.” But I had to ask myself, “Really Kayla, do you know? Do you know how great this God is, whom you serve?” I am far from grasping the extent of His greatness, but I am learning.
             Last week one of the Strong Hearts hospice patients tried to commit suicide. Someone insulted her, and she was wounded to the point that she no longer felt worth as a human being and was ready to end her life. The tongue – oh the weight it holds. Praise the Lord for the other people who appeared on the scene and intervened. The hospice team went to her house to visit, encourage and pray with her several times afterwards. I went on Wednesday, and I want to describe the amazing scene I witnessed and was a part of. She welcomed us enthusiastically into her home, not making eye contact. Shame crowded her demeanor as she sat down. We spoke with her gently and reminded her of her worth in Jesus Christ. We told her that the Creator of the universe designed her perfectly and intentionally, and it doesn’t matter what other people say. We reminded her that God gave her life, and the day her life ends is not her decision to make. She nodded knowingly, wringing her hands and saying “Amen” often.
          Then it was time to pray. Sitting in a deep recliner, she still had not looked up from the dirt floor. Fikru was appointed to pray. I moved to sit on the armrest of her chair and gathered my hands around her small shoulders. Fikru is a fairly quiet man….but not when he is praying. The power of God thunders from his mouth with authority. Ethiopians always talk really fast when they pray, and I usually cannot understand the majority of what is said. I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed my own prayer for her. Fikru prayed and prayed and prayed. Then he paused and moved closer to her. He put his hand on her forehead and spoke again louder and stronger. Her body tensed in my arms, and I began to understand what Fikru was saying.
“Who are you?” he demanded. The woman responded quickly with a high shrieky voice. “I am Satan.”
My eyes opened and my head jerked up.
“How many are you?”
“We are three.”
“How long have you lived here.”
“For three years.”
I couldn’t believe I was hearing this. The demons inside were responding! The woman whooped and jumped in her chair as he continued to pray over her.
“In the name of Jesus, get out!” He reached over and hit her forehead three times.
“Ande!” (One) She screamed.
“Hulet!” (Two) She screamed.
“Sost!” (Three) She screamed longer and then fell back limply. She was free. Fikru comforted her and continued to pray. He prayed over her sleep, her home, her life, and that she would have peace from that day on. We stood to leave, and the woman kissed us all enthusiastically.
           I could not stop smiling. I was amazed at the way the demons had no choice but to flee when Fikru spoke the name of Jesus. What power is in His name alone! In the book of James it says that the demons believe and tremble. I saw three demons tremble that day.

 “Oh you of little faith. For truly I say to you that if you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you shall say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there’ and it shall move. Nothing shall be impossible for you.”   ~Matthew 17:20~

            Jesus said that. This verse brings to me both shame and conviction. If we only need faith the size of a mustard seed to move mountains, I must not have much faith at all. I cannot comprehend all that God is capable of, and I know that my perception of what He can do through me is too small. There are some things in the Bible that I subconsciously consider only things that happened in Bible times. I often fail to remember that He is the same God with the same power, the same promises, and the same potential for revealing Himself in supernatural ways.

Oh me of little faith, for I serve that very God. 
 

He's Got the Whole World in His Hands

 

       Several months ago, I wrote a blog about a little boy named Abreham with Down Syndrome and two heart defects. My friend Emily, along with his sponsor have been working all year to get this child a medical visa to the United States for surgery. To read his background story, go to this website by his sponsor, Wendy:

http://harper9.blogspot.com/2013/05/operation-abraham.html

       About three weeks ago, Wendy began talking with Emily about a doctor that would be traveling to Tenwik hospital in Kenya on June 2nd. He could do testing to see if Abreham is a candidate for surgery, and not too high risk. A cardiac surgeon is also available at the hospital. The doctors and hospital agreed, and arrangements were made for Abreham to travel to Kenya. I was asked to escort him and his mother, Yangoose, along with my Amharic teacher Ebise to translate.

 

 The Lord marvelously provided the funds through Wendy’s networking, and everything else fell into place like stepping stones. The Lord prepared the way for Abreham.

Before leaving, I printed an e-mail from a lady at the hospital summarized like this:

When you get to Nairobi, get a taxi to the bus station. Take a bus to Bomet. At Bomet, take a taxi to the hospital. Ask the guard for operation room reception and ask for Lucy. And then she gave estimates for how much the tickets and rides would be.

            I laughed when I read the e-mail. “Lord,” I looked up, “you do know I’ve never been to Kenya, right?”

We arrived in Nairobi Saturday night on an uneventful flight. Yangoose was stoic, and Abreham slept the whole way. We got through the airport with little delay and out the other side. Several taxis were lined up on the curb, and I was immediately approached by a smiley gentleman with a lot of teeth. I told him we needed to go to the bus station and he loaded our bags in his trunk. All four of us sat in the back. When I looked up, the car was moving but there was no driver and no steering wheel! I panicked for 3 seconds until noticing that the driver was directly in front of me clutching a wheel. Kenyans drive on the left side of the road. The traffic was similar to Ethiopia – lawless - but much much faster. We bought the fattest bananas I had ever seen through the window while stuck in a traffic jam.

            Found the bus station, got tickets, four hours on a rock hard seat to Bomet, taxi to the hospital, guard pointed to reception. No Lucy was to be found, but another sweet nurse led us to the guest house. Tenwik is a Christian campus including the hospital, a church, housing for the staff, and a guest house for visiting doctors and patients. It was an absolutely beautiful, serene Godly atmosphere. Sunday morning we went to the church on campus and rested.  

Monday was the big day. We found the correct line to stand in for registration, and there we stood for the next three hours. I guess Kenya and Ethiopia are sisters. J Eventually we were ushered into an examination room where Dr. Lisky (the traveling doctor) and Dr. White the cardio surgeon were waiting. They were both wonderful, and good with mother and child.

At the end of the echocardiograph they were both in agreement that Abreham’s heart is inoperable. The two holes are small, and his heart is compensating for them now. “If we operate,” they told us, “his life will be shorter.” My own heart sank into my chest. Dr. Lisky explained everything through Ebise to Yangoose, and prayed with us there in the office. Yangoose wiped her eyes and fastened Abreham to her back. I thanked the doctor and headed back to the guest house. I felt as if Yangoose thought the doctors had sentenced her son. Ebise and I sat down with her again to explain the truth of the situation. She responded well, and I am convinced she understood.

It was hard for me to understand myself. It’s so hard to look at a sweet-faced boy like Abreham, know he is sick, and hear a doctor say there is nothing more we can do. We have done all that we can do for this child. We often as Christians say, “Well, all we can do is pray.” I have said it myself, but I think it a grossly inaccurate thing to say. First of all, Abreham’s life was never in our human hands. His life never depended on what we did for him, and prayer is not a last resort! God has had his hand over this child’s life the entire time. He was knit in his mother’s womb, and planned from the beginning. God’s got it. He has not moved. He is sitting on his throne. We are not in control. I have peace that God is, and that He will keep Abreham according to His perfect will. He’s got the whole world in His hands.

           I e-mailed their sponsor Wendy and reported the results. She responded as I did, and said she would change our return date for Wednesday. She then asked me if I would take them to do something fun before we left. I asked around the campus, and everyone voted safari. Tuesday morning I spoke with the visitor’s coordinator who arranged for us to leave within thirty minutes and to spend the night in what she called “a five star tent”. I loaded my troop into a pick-up truck, and off we bumped down the bumpiest “road” I have ever seen. I mean, we could have all used a chiropractor within the first ten minutes. Haha, I loved it! It was only fifty kilometers or so, but it took us two and a half hours to make it.

 

We drove through a gate and into a circle drive. We fell out of the truck and saw a man and woman standing in the doorway with a tray of rolled hot cloths. “Jambo!” she greeted us. By tongs he handed us each a cloth for our faces and a cup of mango juice. The woman continued to welcome us and explained the schedule. We were to eat lunch on the deck by the pool, drop our things in the tent, go on the first game drive, and eat dinner. Tomorrow, we were to go on an early morning game drive, eat breakfast upon returning, and our driver would come to take us to the airport. The “five star tent” was a small house inside a large canvas tent, fitted with refrigerator, flushing toilet, pillow-top beds, and a hot shower.

 

 

 

 

 

 

                      Our “tent’s” balcony overlooked a river with hippos and crocodiles we could watch. Everything was stunning, and the food was like a delicious never ending stream into our mouths. The game drives were amazing too. We saw every animal I imagined on a safari, with an exception to elephants. We were so close to them! Yangoose, Abreham, and Ebise enjoyed it immensely. When would they ever get to do something like this? It was such a blessing for all of us. My breath was taken by all the different and wonderful things the Lord has made. We watched the sun go down and the sun come up on the savanna.

 

 

He commands the sun to move. He fashions the horn of the buffalo and the paw of the lion. He teaches the gazelle to leap and paints the zebra’s stripes.

Truly, He's got the whole world in His hands.

 

  

 
 

 

             

He is Jealous For Me

In my time with the Lord I have been reading through the Old Testament prophets. I have enjoyed it immensely. So much of God’s character is revealed through the situations and prophecies. I am now at the end of Zechariah. Yesterday, I was very struck by this verse:

“Thus says the Lord of hosts, ‘I am exceedingly jealous for Zion, yes, with great wrath I am jealous for her.’” – Zechariah 8:2

“I am exceedingly jealous for Zion…” We, the church, are Zion. He is exceedingly jealous for us. That verse was not the first or only time in the book the Lord said that He was jealous for them. Zechariah said repeatedly, “‘I am jealous for Zion,’ thus says the Lord of hosts.”

I got very stuck on that. I know He wants me. I know He loves me. But to think that He is even jealous over me. Jealous? Yes, and “with great wrath” He is jealous. I’m a really jealous person. I want to be liked, I want to be loved. I am jealous for the attention of people that I love. (My mom is nodding her head. ;) ) That jealousy is not always satisfied, because the people that I love also love others and may even like others more than they like me. The hearts of the people of Israel had wandered from God time and time again. But it amazes me that each time God scattered them, he gathered them back to Himself. Our hearts, as theirs, constantly wander from the fold of God. And yet, He gathers us back because He is jealous for us.

Chapter eight continues with God’s promises of how He will bless and strengthen Israel, how He would build them up again, and bring them peace. Then the last verse of the chapter reads:

“Thus says the Lord of Hosts, ‘In those days ten men from all the nations will grasp the garment of a Jew saying, “Let us go with you, for we have heard that God is with you.”’” (v.23)

I was thinking….uh…whoa. It should be like that for every Christian. I remember my dad praying at the dinner table often that people who don’t know Christ would look at our family and notice we had something they didn’t have. People should notice. It should be very obvious that God is with us.

My dear brothers and sisters, God Almighty is jealous for us! With great wrath He is jealous for you! He gathers you from the corners of the earth where you have been scattered. He strengthens your feeble hands and your shaking knees. He has purposed to do you good. You are the apple of His eye! Praise Him, all you people!

He is jealous for me

Loves like a hurricane

I am a tree, bending beneath the weight of His wind and mercy

When all of a sudden

I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory

And I realize just how beautiful you are

And how great your affections are for me

Oh, how he loves us so

Oh, how he loves us

How he loves us so