Beauty from the Ashes

As I sat in the middle of a worship service at the prison in Rukungiri with the African sun beating down on me, listening to dozens of inmates praise the Lord in Runyankole, I scribbled down a note that read "God can redeem anything." Over the course of these past 3 months, my heart has been overwhelmed by the brokenness that saturates this place, the darkness that is real and tangible and hangs over your head like a blanket. But this week, as the trip draws to a close and we prepare to leave Uganda for home, God has been faithful to burst into that darkness with marvelous light, reminding me that He is moving here. There is nothing He can't make new, and nowhere He can't work.

When I first traveled to the village a few months ago, and nearly every other time I've been back, I've had to walk in the faith that God is working whether I see it or not. I've had to muster up every ounce of strength and patience in me to preach and pray over crazy, drunk men, having no idea if they can even understand me but trusting that the word of the Lord doesn't return empty without accomplishing the purpose for which it was sent.

Then on Thursday afternoon, as we walked home from spending the day in the village, playing with the kids and talking to whoever would listen, I got a glimpse of the Word accomplishing its purpose. By the grace of God, I somehow managed to lead our group back to a house I never thought I would find again, and saw God work in ways beyond what I ever expected.

3 months ago, Garrett, Collin, Erik and I followed a man named Elias down a path through the jungle to meet and pray over his mother Sylvia, who was an alcoholic. An excerpt from the blog I wrote that day:

"So we finally made it to their house and met Elias's younger siblings and his mother, Sylvia. My heart was broken for this shell of a woman, for the children she couldn't care for because she was feeding her addiction instead, for their tattered clothes and small, dark house. We prayed for the Lord to break the chains of her alcoholism and for her eyes to be opened to the knowledge that Jesus alone can satisfy where all of the things of this world will fail. When we finished praying, she told us she didn't want to drink anymore! Though I have no idea if her conviction was sincere, nor if I will ever see her again to know how she is doing, my heart will continue to cry out to Jesus that He would keep working in Sylvia's life so she could experience the freedom He has purchased for her."

When we arrived back at that house, I had no idea what we would find. But as she came outside to greet us, I knew in an instant that she was not the same woman we met all those weeks ago. Even the fact that she was walking around and talking was a miraculous change. We went inside and as she hugged me, she explained that she remembered that day we came to pray for her. And she hasn't had a drink since then. I was blown away by the power and presence of God on display in that moment, but it turns out that He wasn't finished with this family.

As we sat there praising God for His work in Sylvia's life, we came to find out that her teenaged son, Innocent, wasn't a believer. And as we shared the Gospel and our testimonies with him, his eyes were opened and his heart softened to receive Christ. As we prayed with him and over him, I was in awe of the miraculous physical and spiritual healing unfolding around me, and completely humbled that God would invite me into His process of making all things new.

If that had been the only way I ever saw God work, it would have been more than enough. But it seemed that everywhere I looked this week, I saw Him making His glory known. Over the past month,  I've grown closer and closer in my relationship with Benedict, one of the oldest students at school, and nearly every day, he reminds me just how much God is moving in this place. What started as him randomly approaching me to ask that I pray for his exams quickly turned into meeting with him every day to pray and talk about the Bible.

On Saturday, I sat with him for hours listening as he opened up and shared stories from his past. After his father remarried and his mother was nowhere to be found, Benedict, at the age of 11 was left to fend for himself and his younger cousin. He was forced to walk through unimaginable brokenness and to endure pain no child should ever have to bear. And yet through all of that darkness, God's light has been shining and His purposes prevailing.

For starters, Benedict is one of the brightest, hardest working students I have ever met. At the end of this year, he will be the first in his family to finish high school and go to college. And he will be the first to tell you that God is the one who has carried him through, and who deserves all the praise and glory. But even more beautiful than that is the fact that, where you would expect to find a heart full of anger, bitterness and resentment towards the people who have hurt him, there is only grace, love and a desire for reconciliation. I thought my heart would burst when he told me he wants to keep growing in the knowledge of who God is so that he can live an example for his family and one day see them come to know Christ the way he does.

As much as my heart breaks to think of the pain he never deserved to suffer, I know that his story was written this way for a reason. God has greater things planned for Benedict's present and his future, plans to redeem what was broken in the past and bring new life where there had been death and destruction.

Just when I thought I had learned all there was to know and experienced all there was to see of God's redemptive work here, I found myself volunteering to preach during a chapel service at the prison. I had no idea what I could possibly have to share with a bunch of African prisoners, but as I flipped through my Bible praying that the Spirit would lead, I opened to Ezekiel 37- the Valley of Dry Bones.

With an overwhelming sense that I needed to teach those verses, I prepared a lesson about how the Sovereign Lord is the only One who can take our dry bones, dead in sin, and breathe into them to make them alive in Christ. And then I walked through the gates of the prison and watched that lesson unfold right in front of my eyes. There were inmates scattered all over the courtyard, but a group of 30-40 had already gathered for chapel by the time we arrived. I should have been extremely intimidated.

But instead, I felt overwhelming peace. They began to worship in Runyankole, and as I looked around the last place I ever expected to experience God, that's when it hit me, that He can redeem anything. I watched these men, physically in chains but spiritually set free, and I saw God a little more clearly for who He is and how He works.

He is freedom from the bondage of sin and suffering. He is hope to the hopeless. He is, and always will be making all things new- for me, for Sylvia and her son Innocent, for Benedict, for those inmates. He gives rest to the weary and strength to the weak. He is the defender of the fatherless, release for the captives, redeemer of all that is broken. He breathes new life into dry bones and makes beauty from the ashes. He is light in the darkness and the darkness will not overcome.