God’s Perfect Creation

 I’ve been in the car a lot recently. We’ve been taking long car rides practically every week for the past month. It’s a lot of fun, until you hit hour 3 or so. That’s when my legs start to twitch and my neck starts to hurt. Ha ha! But with all this free time, having nothing to do but look out the window, I’ve observed some really interesting things about God’s creation. 

1. The Clouds-Have you ever noticed how certain clouds can become anything you want them to be? You hardly have to even think about it before it takes the shape of whatever it is you’re thinking about! I’ll never forget after a long day, I was in the car headed back home when I noticed a very interesting cloud formation. It looked like the saints bowing on their knees worshiping God. God’s cloud was shapeless and enormous. It completely covered the upper part of the sky. Another cloud formation was below and in front of the enormous cloud. This was the cloud that looked like the saints worshipping God. There were many people bowing down. Their hands were held out in front of them and their heads were lowered. They wouldn’t look at God out of reverence. I saw that cloud and thought of the day when all the saints would bow before our God and worship Him. Holy holy holy is the Lord God Almighty, Who was, Who is, and Who is to come (Revelation 4:8). 
2. The Flowers-As we drive along, I can’t help but notice the colorful assortment of flowers along the side of the road. They are EVERYWHERE! It’s so beautiful! All the flowers are wild. They haven’t been bred to look more beautiful, they haven’t been planted there by a human (at least not on purpose ;)), and I’ve never seen more beautiful flowers. Proof right there that beauty isn’t something that has to be tampered with. If you are made in the imagine of God (which we all are) then you are beautiful. Period. But the biggest thing about these flowers that I find so remarkable is how so many people drive past them each day and barely anyone ever looks at them. How crazy is it that God put such beautiful things right underneath our noses and yet so few of us ever actually look at them? I have never heard of a person who could actually make something as small as a real flower. It’s impossible. People don’t know how to make living things without using a living thing to create it. And yet, if someone did, wouldn’t everyone in the world want to look at this miracle flower? Why is it then that we can drive hours on a road surrounded by miracle flowers that God flawlessly created and yet we never even look at them? God’s power never ceases to amaze me. Sometimes we just need to stop and smell the flowers. The flowers also reminded me of something I noticed a lot in Uganda. Every time a flower catches my eye as we drive along, I wonder if another person has ever actually looked at that exact flower before. There are so many flowers and the people are driving so fast, that I imagine there are very few flowers along the side of the road that actually get looked at. While I was in Uganda, often times I was completely surrounded by children. There were SO many! It was impossible to say hello to each one or to remember every name. But I remember how excited a child would get when I would remember their name or when I would reach down and grab THEIR hand instead of them reaching for mine. They seemed so surprised by the fact that I wanted to know their names and hold their hands. Like the flowers, oftentimes these children go unnoticed. No one ever stops to remember their names. No one ever reaches down to hold their hands. No one ever shows them a random act of love that they didn’t work for. And that’s something about Jesus that I just love. He actively pursued people. They didn’t just have to come to Him, He would go to them. 

               

He is Near

When I went to Uganda the first time in 2018, I traveled out to a simi-remote village and visited a pole barn church. At that church, things were the bare minimum. They had nothing. And I’m not exaggerating. They literally had nothing except a roof over their heads. They didn’t even have four walls to protect them. In fact, it was almost hotter inside that church due to the sheet metal roof than it was outside. I had already visited this church once, a few days prior. But this was sort of like our farewell before we left that part of Uganda and moved more Westward. During a short service, I found out we were also there for a baptism. That was great, except we lacked one thing. Water. There was no body of water big enough to baptize people anywhere near where we were. But, that’s never stopped a baptism before. After the short service, everyone, about fifty people, started walking out of the church. I had no idea where we were going. As we walked, someone playing the drums, another played an accordion, and another led us in singing. Two little girls came over and walked alongside me. We sang and marched to the beat of the drums. The hot African sun beating down on us all the while. I remember sweating and feeling almost sick from the intensity of the sun. My hand was so sweaty, that it kept slipping out of the little girl’s hand that was holding it. But, as we walked along this dirt road, burning under the sun and dodging motorcycle taxis, I felt the presence of the Holy Spirit stronger than I ever had before. He felt so near that I almost looked around to see if He was physically walking with us. We walked for about a mile or two and finally came upon a little mucky watering hole where people were washing their motorcycles. The water was very cloudy and dirty, but despite this, many people joyously waded out to the middle and were baptized. Every time someone rose up from the water, they were greeted by a loud barrage of shouting and singing. Again, I felt as if God were literally hovering over us wearing the biggest smile. I don’t remember anything that happened after that. The event was so spectacular that all my other memories of that day have faded. But I’ll never forget that baptism. God’s presence was more real than anything I had ever experienced in my life. 

                

He Uses the Weak

I realized today that I’ve never fully explained why exactly I named my blog He Uses the Weak. Well, if you’ve read the first part of my story, it might make some sense already. I’ve always been such a weak little person. I remember growing up watching my superhero tough sister. I remember seeing her experience things that scared me beyond words. How was she so strong? Why wasn’t I? As a result of this, I would often shrink back into my shell when something hard was happening. I just couldn’t face it. I remember literally crying about anything and everything that bothered me growing up. I laugh inwardly when I read the Bible verse in Psalms (56:8) that talks about God bottling up our tears. He probably has an entire water tower up in heaven filled with mine! Ha ha! Anyway, the point is, I’ve always been the weakest person I know. I’ve often wondered why God chose me to go to Uganda and not my amazing sister. Or why didn’t He choose one of my genius brothers? Nope. He chose me. Weak little emotional Abby. But as the years have gone by, I’ve realized why He chose me. He didn’t choose me despite my weaknesses. He chose me because of them. His power is made perfect through my weakness (2 Corinthians 12:9). He is glorified more by a weak person that does extraordinary things than by a strong person. Isn’t that so crazy? God sees weak people as potential. Then, being a master at transformation, turns that potential into a reality. Therefore, like Paul says in 2 Corinthians, I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses so that Christ will be glorified. 

Anyway, that’s the story behind He Uses the Weak. 

The Light of the Moon

I wrote this little passage last year and and have been reminded of it time and time again. Please excuse any grammatical errors or choppiness. I just wanted to share it with you all. 

12/9/19

I’m honestly not sure what to call this. Maybe an epiphany. . . Or a realization brought on by God. Either way, I just realized something that I was never able to really connect in my brain before. I understand the correlation between light/dark to good/evil. 

I had a really hard day today. I can only say that it truly felt like I was being attacked. I know I was. I also was pretty much defeated until about 7:30pm. So from the start of my day to 7:30 I faced a difficult battle. I simply didn’t want to pray. Cough cough. Umm, who tries to keep us from praying? Satan. 

So, at about 7:30, (it was already dark outside) I opened up my curtains, and closed and locked my door. I bent down and finally started praying. I was confused. I hadn’t quite figured out that the devil had been attacking me yet, but I figured it was something like that. Well, I basically asked God why it felt like He wasn’t present. Where were His little kisses and hugs that I had received multiple times in the past? So, before I had even started praying, I noticed the moon was extremely bright tonight. I mean, even with the yard lamp on, there was a huge splotch of clear white light on the floor of my bedroom. By the time I finished praying, I definitely felt better. Not because I had some fulfilling prayer or anything, but simply because I had prayed. I didn’t feel like God gave me any little or big kisses, or had even really met me in that moment. Of course He was there, I simply wasn’t ‘feeling’ Him. So fast forward a couple of hours. I just listened to an amazing sermon by Tad Trapp, the pastor of my older brother’s church. And then, after the sermon was over, I turned off my light, opened the curtains again, and listened to some beautiful music and worshiped God. I moved towards the window to get a better view of the world, when I noticed the moon again. I started praying. I said, “God, one day I want to be like the moon. No, I want to be like the sun. Actually, no, I want to be like the moon, because You are like the sun, and the moon reflects Your Light.”

Then it hit me. I noticed all the other stars in the dark sky and realized that good vs. evil and dark vs. light are almost perfect analogies of each other. I was made to reflect Christ’s Light, just like the moon. It’s bright and at times will actually shower the whole earth in the light it’s reflecting, making the darkness disappear. The sins of the world are the darkness. But occasionally there are stars and planets and moons that reflect the light of the sun. Just like Christians should and (some) do reflect the Light of the Son, lighting up the darkness of the world. There’s another type of light though. The artificial light. The light that in this example came from was the yard lamp. The artificial light sometimes, almost always, catches the unsuspecting eye of bugs. They get confused as to what the real light is and they kill themselves in their attempts to reach the fake light. So how do you recognize the True light compared to the fake light? You have to know the differences. Read the Bible. Study the Bible. Memorize the Bible. 

Another thing I noticed for the first time was how darkness actually cannot beat light. I mean, think about it. Light always wins. Sure, it takes more energy to make light than darkness, because darkness is the natural state of the world, just like in life. But when you do shine the light, the darkness hides. Light always wins. You turn on a flashlight and everything the light touches makes the darkness hide. You can’t turn on the darkness. When the light goes out, the darkness comes in, but every time you turn on the light, the darkness cannot stand. That blows my mind. 

All that to say, God gave me a kiss tonight. It wasn’t the same as the last ones, but it was so much better. 

My Heart’s Desire

Years ago, I remember feeling very confused. It says in the Bible that if you delight yourself in the Lord, He will give you the desires of your heart (Psalm 37:4). But, when I was nine years old, I thought I had been delighting myself in the Lord. I read my Bible more than most people. I prayed daily. I sang worship songs. And even on certain occasions, God would speak to me. I felt like my whole life was so put together (it really wasn’t), and I was only NINE! I thought I had been delighting myself in the Lord. So, why was He telling me to do something completely against what I called the desires of my heart? Why would He do that? Wasn’t He faithful in all His promises? I felt so confused. But there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t exactly argue with God about this. I mean, theoretically I could, but deep down I knew I must have some of the details wrong about that passage of Scripture and that’s why God wasn’t fulfilling His promise.

Years later, the pieces of the puzzle started to fall into place. At first, I came to the conclusion that being a missionary in Uganda was the deepest desire of my heart. I always felt so at peace in Uganda. And, when I wasn’t in Uganda, all I wanted to do was go back. So, therefore, it must be the deepest desire of my heart. But at some point along the way, I realized even this conclusion was missing something. There was something deeper in my heart. But how was I supposed to put it into words? I didn’t even know what it was. It was almost like an internal groaning, a throb in my heart, an ache in my soul. But what was it exactly? It took me ages to finally figure it out. The deepest desire of my heart wasn’t to be safe, to get married, to have children, or even to move to Uganda. None of these things were bad things but they weren’t the deepest desires of my heart. The deepest desire of my heart was to have an intimate relationship with the Lord. And I find this kind of relationship every time I serve Him. It’s like a no-brainer. When I feel distant from God, I serve Him. And then, just like that, problem solved. I think it’s a special gift He left His followers. It becomes ingrained in our very DNA the second we profess Jesus as Lord and make Him the most important part of our lives. 

And so, as I searched the depths of my soul, I realized the most important thing in and out of the world to me was simply to be as close to Jesus as I possibly could get. I don’t care what extent I have to go to to be in that perfect place. In fact, I have given up my life for this one thing. I can’t stand buying expensive clothes anymore or sleeping in till noon. Instead, I long and desire to sit on slimy dirt in the middle of a slum, holding as many children as my lap can fit, kissing their dirty little faces, and whispering into their tiny ears the love that Jesus has for them. Why? Because that’s where Jesus is. That’s exactly where Jesus is. And that, my friends, is the desire of my heart. 

My Story, Part 1

“Go. Be a missionary in Uganda for the rest of your life.”
Those words pulsed through my head as I sat on the floor of my basement school room. What just happened? I could feel the cold fingers of fear running down my spine. A feeling of deep guilt and anger started boiling up in the pit of my stomach. How was I supposed to respond to this? How could I avoid what the Lord has just told me to do? Could I possibly dare say no to my Savior? My little nine year old heart felt like it was being torn in two. I wanted to obey the Lord. I only recently had been able to begin a true and full relationship with Him. But, I also wanted to live the life I had been planning for as long as I could remember here in America. Everything would be so easy! My whole life had been laid out in front of me ever since I was born. I didn’t know the first thing about Uganda. All I had ever heard about Africa was that it was a dark and dangerous place. Why did God, if He was so loving and kind, want me to spend the rest of my life in a place that could take my life. In fact, it would take my life. I would have to die to myself. But what I didn’t realize at nine years of age was that when we lose our lives for His sake, we then find them (Matthew 10:39). I also felt cheated in some way by God. I had always been a ‘good girl’. I tried hard, too hard, to never sin. In my mind, I though I had done everything possible to delight myself in the Lord. The Bible says that those who delight themselves in the Lord will receive the desires of their hearts (Psalm 37:4). So, according to my logic, that meant that what the Lord was telling me to do was wrong. He wasn’t supposed to be calling me to Africa. He was supposed to be giving me my heart’s desires. But what I didn’t know was that He was. I just hadn't realized it yet. 
I eventually came to the conclusion that I had to obey the Lord. I couldn’t go on living a normal life if I knew I had disobeyed Him in any way. So, I died to myself that day. 

By the time I was about 12 or 13, I started saving a lot of my money specifically so that I could go on a mission trip once I was in high school. I planned on going to Haiti because both of my older two siblings had gone there and loved it. We also had a local ministry that would take trips there and we knew a lot of people who had gone. So, it was easy. All I had to do was raise $1,200. Now this is a lot of money for a 12 or 13 year old to raise on her own. It took me about two years before I raised almost enough to go. By the time I was 14, in the winter of 2017, I had about $800. I was planning to go to Haiti in the summer, six months later. That’s when my mother came to me and told me that she had decided to go with me to Haiti. This was great news to me since I was really scared and didn’t want to do this on my own. So my amazing mom stepped in. She started raising money too and, before we knew it, we both had almost all of the money we needed to both go to Haiti. Right after I turned 15 in January, 2018, my mom came to me and told me that we needed to sign up for the Haiti trip if we wanted to make it on the team. I nodded my head. A week later, she asked me if I had looked into it yet. I told her that I hadn’t but I would as soon as I had some free time. Not long after that, Mom came to me and told me plainly that she didn’t feel excited about going to Haiti. I admitted to her that I didn’t either and I couldn’t figure out why. That’s when the crazy happened. 

“Why don’t we go to Uganda?” 

I froze. A smile crept up on my face. I started to laugh inwardly. Mom had really gone off the deep end hadn’t she? 

“Mom, listen. Listen. We can’t go to Uganda because it’s too far away. It’s practically on the other side of the world. It’s in AFRICA! Ebola is in Africa! It costs three TIMES as much money to go. There isn’t an organization that we know of that would let us go with them. It’s too dangerous. We would probably die.” That was my answer to her ridiculous proposal. But my mom, being who she is, wasn’t deterred by my discouraging answer. She started doing a bit of digging and found a ministry based out of Kentucky that would take us with them. The cost for each person was $3,400. There was literally no way this was possible. So I prayed. My prayer was very simple. There weren’t any big words or lofty thoughts involved. I simply prayed, “God, if you want me in Uganda this summer, then You get me there.” Three months later, we had almost every penny we needed to go. I still look back at that time and marvel at how plainly God provided. On July 7th, 2018, my mom and I said goodbye to our family and left America for the first time in both of our lives. 24 hours later, I stepped off a plane and took my very first steps in Uganda. Something inside of me clicked. 

I. Was. Home.

I had never felt anything like this before. I couldn’t even describe it. I remember turning around as my mom and I walked through the terminal, and saying to her, “I’m home.”

It was like for the first time in my life, I was where I belonged. What was this feeling? I couldn’t wrap my head around it. So, instead of letting my mind blow up, I just kept walking. I hadn’t slept for 24 hours, yet I felt like I had all the energy in the world. I was home. I let those words roll around in my head. I couldn’t understand it. Why had God chosen me? Why had He chosen to bless me like this? When I was nine, I felt like it was more of a curse than a blessing. Yet now, I knew without a doubt that this was one of the best gifts I had ever received. The desires of my heart were being given to me. I didn’t even know what the deepest desires of my heart were until I stepped foot in Uganda. God knew before I was even formed in my mother’s womb. How is He so good? What love He has shown me in the insignificant life I have so far lived! My heart swells every time I think about my Savior. I love Him. 

I spent 10 days on this trip and they were the best 10 days of my life. I remember one day, it was a few days into the trip already, and I sat on the ground in my skirt (trust me. That’s not easy. Ha ha!) and was very quickly surrounded by children. The red dirt had already settled on every exposed section of my skin, and the hot sun beat down on my head. I looked at the ground right beneath me. I looked at the dirt and studied every detail. 

“This is the closest place to heaven on earth for me.” I looked up. My heart soared at this thought. Part of me was breaking. I knew I couldn’t stay here yet. I had a long way to go before I could live in this land the Lord called me to. But there was another part of my heart that was filled. It wasn’t like my heart was going to explode at that moment, or like I couldn’t help but scream from the amount of joy I was feeling. Rather, I felt calm. Peaceful. I knew I knew I knew. This was home to me. 

Before I even left Uganda, I wanted to go back. I’m not kidding! Ha ha! I remember getting back to America. It was so hard. I was happy to see my dad and younger brother who both met us at the airport and I was eager to share all about the trip. But it was like I had just left home knowing I wouldn’t return for, at the very least, a year. It was as if I had for the first time experienced what it felt like to have all of my heart in my chest. And now, I was back to having only part of it again. The saying, “What you don’t know can’t hurt you,” isn’t always true, but in this situation, I can relate to it. Before I went to Uganda, I had no idea that I wasn’t living at my maximum potential. Now that I knew, it was almost impossible to go back to life as it was before. I didn’t step foot on American soil, and say, “I’m home.” My mom did, because to her, America is her home. But to me, it was a foreign land that felt almost like a prison. I don’t say this with any contempt or pride. I don’t say this to bring myself glory. I say this because I know that God put Uganda in my heart, and He put the desire in me to go back. While I was in Uganda, it wasn’t easy. We faced battles with cockroaches, held children with scabies, hugged people who had HIV/AIDS, worshiped Jesus across the street from a man who worships Satan. I had a real meltdown towards the end of our trip. It wasn’t easy. In fact it was more difficult than I could ever have imagined. Yet love covers a multitude of sins. Love looks past flaws and forgets wrongdoings. And God put love in my heart for the people of Uganda. He put love in my heart for Him. I would do anything for God. Not because I am strong or because He needs me, but because He did EVERYTHING for me. Because He did everything for me, I would do anything for Him. I long to give Him even just a tiny portion of what He gave me simply out of love. Not because I feel like it’s the noble thing to do, or that I need to pay Him back somehow, but rather because I love Him more than life. I love Him more than death. If Jesus was in Hell, that’s where I would want to be too. 

I also want to make sure to all who ever read this that you understand something. As I talk about my calling to Uganda, and how much I love these people, I want you to understand that Uganda itself isn’t the blessing I speak of. It’s not even the people. When I stepped into Uganda and said, “I’m home,” I wasn’t saying it because the place of Uganda is my home. I didn’t say it because my home is with those people. No. I am home when I obey the will of my Father. When I looked at the ground in Uganda and said that that spot was the closest place to heaven on earth for me, I wasn’t saying that about the physical place. I was saying it about the closeness I experienced with God. Yes, I’m close with God in America too, but in Uganda, I am obeying Him like He called me to. And this produces a kind of intimacy with Him that I can’t experience otherwise. 
So, there’s a lot more to my story; I went back to Uganda, I experienced the darkest season of my life, I received a second calling from God, but all of that is a story for another time. Right now, I want the focus to be on the transformation I experienced after my first trip to Uganda.

The Boy with the Backpack

Below is an essay I wrote back in 2018 about my first trip to Uganda. It isn't perfect but it contains details that, to this day, I go back and reread just to remember certain things that I had forgotten about my first trip. 

The Boy with the Backpack

We hear stories of people starving to death, children being kidnapped, and women dying in childbirth, but to most of us these are just stories; they couldn’t possibly be reality. We can’t wrap our minds around the horrors that millions of people experience each day. That is exactly how I felt just months ago. I heard the stories, I cried for the people, but I couldn’t truly fathom the pain. I had to be there, hear the cries, see the hurt, smell the stench to fully grasp the reality of it all. I came to the conclusion that no matter how bad a person’s life seems, someone else has it worse.

Ever since I was nine years old, I believe God called me to go to Uganda to be a missionary. At first, I was terrified. I mean, what nine-year-old ever wants to go to Africa to be a missionary? It was absolutely ludicrous. But even at such a young age I loved my Lord and knew deep down that I needed to obey Him, wherever that led me. So that was that. I was going to Uganda. On July 7, 2018 I started my journey to Uganda, Africa along with my mother. Uganda was beautiful. I loved it the second I stepped of the plane. I was home, finally home. Finally, six years later I took my first steps into the “Pearl of Africa”. The first thing I noticed after getting off the plane was the smell. There was this smell that lingered everywhere. I don’t know what the source of it was. It possibly derived from the open sewage everywhere or the trash that littered the ground, covering every square inch of Uganda. Whatever the cause, it kind of smelled like really old tortilla chips. I concluded that it was the smell of poverty. Poverty had a smell. I had never really thought about it like that before. Of course, I didn’t really mind. After all, it didn’t smell that bad. I would get used to it.

On the third day of our trip, we went to work on remodeling an old office building. Our options were to either paint the office building or tear down an old brick structure. I really don’t enjoy painting, so I decided on the latter. My mom and two of our team members came with me. We had been ordered not to damage the bricks that we would be taking out of the structure so that they could be reused in a future wall around the complex. At first, we thought that would be no problem. I mean, surely it wouldn’t be that hard to just take the structure down brick by brick, right? Wrong. It took us about five minutes per brick. We were getting nowhere fast. After discussing it with the director we decided just to knock the building down and salvage the bricks that could be reused afterwards. So, naturally, I stood back and watched the men do the hard work of tearing down the building. Some children had gathered at this point to watch the action. It was obvious that they thought our idea was stupid and dangerous. They just kept laughing and talking to each other in a different language. After a few minutes, more children showed up. One of them sat against the neighbor’s brick house about twenty or thirty feet away from the demolition site. There was something different about this boy. He was obviously a few years older than most of the children. He had a nice backpack on his shoulders and was wearing fairly clean clothes. At first glance I would have said he was one of the more “well-off” children. But something was just different about him. He had this faraway look in his eyes, almost sad. I didn’t really notice this but something inside of me did. I don’t know how to explain it. I just suddenly felt compassion for him without even thinking about it or wondering about his story. Little did I know, this boy was about to change my life. Once we were able, my mom, a bunch of the local children, some of my team members, and I, started sorting through the rubble for reusable bricks and putting them into piles. We soon had formed a line to pass the bricks down. The boy with the backpack ended up next to me. He was a very hard worker. He never stopped for a break or complained. None of the kids did. There was a stark contrast to these Ugandan children and the children I knew back in the States. These children worked hard, never disrespecting their elders and always grateful for whatever you gave them. After a while, we decided to call it a day. One of my team members had brought gummy bears to give to the children. She asked our bus driver who spoke the local language to have one of the children pass the gummy bears out in a fair and equal way. He chose the boy with the backpack. I was so proud. I wasn’t exactly sure why though. I mean, I didn’t even know his name but there was this feeling deep inside of me like he was family.

The next day, we went back to the worksite to finish sorting through the bricks. The boy showed up again. I was so thankful. I really wanted to see him to ask him his name. So, we started sorting through the bricks and the boy worked right by me just like the day before. It was obvious he was bonding with me as well. After the work was done, the boy sat down in the shade. I decided now was a good time to ask him his name. He told me his name was Joseph. We soon had passed out fruit snacks to all the hard-working kids. I made sure Joseph got some. After that, Joseph, one of his friends, and I sat down to watch some of the painters work. We talked about all kinds of things, from what certain words meant in Lusoga, the local language, to how many siblings they both had. It was obvious that Joseph used to be in school because of how well he could communicate with me in English. English is the official language of Uganda so it’s mandatory to learn in school. When I asked him why he wasn’t in school anymore he said something about fees. This broke my heart. Joseph was obviously very bright and would excel in school if he only had enough money to go. It could change his life forever!

After returning to the States, I couldn’t get Joseph off my mind. I contacted the Executive Director of the ministry. I asked her to find out as much as she could about Joseph. Within a few days she got back to me and told me some of the most heart-breaking news. Joseph was a street child. He had no home and no constant income or food. But most importantly, he had no one to love him. I found out also that Joseph had been selling scraps to have enough money to go to school. This blew my mind. He had been paying for his own schooling! Joseph knew the impact education could have on his life. I felt embarrassed. How many times had I complained about doing school? How many times had I wished that summer vacation lasted forever? Yet, on the other side of the world was a little boy who wanted to go to school so badly that he sacrificed who-knows-what just to go.

Joseph changed my perspective on life. He showed me that no matter how “bad” I think I have it, thousands, if not millions or even billions, have it so much worse. Now, I have a hard time buying clothes that I don’t need or spending my money on fast food when I know there’s tons of food at home. To be honest, sometimes I even feel ashamed, ashamed that I didn’t see it before or if I did that I didn’t do anything about it. Why should I live a life of luxury when there truly are children starving to death on the other side of the world?

Joseph (in the white shirt) and me working together on the first day I met him

To Begin. . .

First, I wanted to start by introducing myself. My name is Abby (or Mulungi if you’re Ugandan. Ha ha!) and I am preparing to begin a lifelong career as an overseas missionary in Uganda, Africa. I’m currently working on writing a full, detailed post about my story, but I thought it would be a good idea to start out with something a bit shorter.
If I were to sum up my entire story into just one phrase, it would be that God uses the weak to shame the strong (1 Corinthians 1:27). Nothing I have ever done was from my own strength. In fact, a lot of what I have done has actually been a result of my weakness. But that’s the beauty of it. God didn’t choose me to go to Uganda because He saw my strength. He chose me because He saw my weakness.
So, to begin, God called me to be a missionary in Uganda when I was only nine years old. He used many different situations before calling me that prepared my heart to be open to what He was getting ready to say. But, I’ll be honest, I still didn’t want to do it. It took years before I actually had a desire to go. But as soon as I did, nothing was ever going to be able to stop me. Ha ha! God has always been my source of strength. When people would tell me it was too dangerous, I would simply smile. The old Abby would have cried her eyes out at the very idea of doing something that didn’t please everyone. But the God filled Abby didn’t care. She knew it didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was to rest in the embrace of her loving Savior.

Sitting with Melisa on my first trip to Uganda

When I was fifteen years old, I went to Uganda on a ten day mission trip. I had never realized before how deeply my heart could love someone until after that trip when I had to say goodbye to the little children that stole my heart the very second they touched my sunburnt skin. After getting back from Uganda that year, I couldn’t go back to life as usual, no matter how hard I tried. Everything had changed. I had to learn the hard way how to deal with my reverse-culture shock. But God, once again, became my shoulder to cry on. He lifted me up from the pit I had put myself in. He woke me up from my sorrow and taught me how to love without holding back. So, when I was sixteen, I went back to Uganda. This time, the trip was much longer, and we faced much greater trials. But where there are trials, faith grows. By the time I returned to the States, I had realized how strong my faith had grown. As a result of this, I prayed a somewhat dangerous prayer, ha ha! I prayed that the Lord would keep my new faith strong. So, once again, I was faced with trial. One day, while I was praying, I felt the Lord call me to do something I had never even considered in all of my life. He told me to move to Uganda without a four year college degree. My initial reaction was, why? This didn’t make any sense to me. What good would I be if I didn’t have a full degree? Surely God wanted me to be independent, not a burden to other people. But, without a full degree, I probably wouldn’t be able to provide for myself in Uganda. I felt so confused. I spent a week and a half praying like a crazy woman. And God, being gracious and kind, spoke to me over and over and over again. He kept repeating what He had told me. Finally, one Sunday, I asked the Lord for one last final confirmation. And that day in church, God told me once again to move to Uganda without my four year degree. So, finally, I submitted to His will and promised to obey. I will be moving to Uganda approximately one year from now.
God has never let me down. He has never filled my cup up beyond what it can hold. I still have a long path ahead of me, full of mountains that need to be moved. But my God has promised to go before me and level my mountains (Isaiah 45:2), so I will not fear.