recalling names and seeing sights

Before I left for Zambia, I knew that I’d come home a day before it was “my Monday” on this blog. I sighed a heavy sigh, imagining how I could muster up accurate words, depictions, and stories to suit all that I saw and experienced. Well, I am officially back in Illinois and somehow, much like my carry-on baggage, my sigh grew heavier upon stateside arrival.  

As I sat next to Austin on the flight from London to Chicago, I wrote ferociously in my journal recalling and recounting the trip we had just journeyed together.  I was only interrupted by the occasional hand cramp or the small, energized, Indian boy sitting behind me, (I didn’t recall paying extra for the massage chair. American Airlines, I owe you.)  Nevertheless, my hand could not keep up with the speed of my thoughts and my brain could not accurately articulate the flashes of memories begging to be pieced together into stories.

I wrote and prayed, thought and worshipped, and tightly closed my eyes as if to squeeze every ounce of my mind to remember names.

Zachary. He sat in the front row of his third grade classroom. He wore a forest green sweater, oversized with rolled sleeves. He had New Balance tennis shoes on his feet, too big, with no socks. His legs were skinny and such a beautiful shade of brown that it looked as if he had tights on. He answered loudly and proudly when his teacher prompted him, and smiled with the most perfect, pearly teeth. Zachary was the last boy I spoke to at that school. When I stooped down to look at him at eye level, I noticed he had what looked like a Staph Infection scar on his chin. His eyes flashed to mine, caught me looking at his scar, and quickly covered up his chin with his floppy, green sleeve. I touched the back of his head, looked him straight through his marble eyes and told him how handsome he was. He smiled through his sweater, looked down and then sat up a little straighter as if he had chosen to believe it. I asked to look at his notebook with him and he showed me all the division problems he had gotten right before the crazy group of Americans interrupted his class. “You are so smart!” I said over and over again. Each time I said it, he would show me another page and believed me a little more. Soon his arm came off his chin and he grinned, exposing kilowatts of happiness. 

About two years ago I had a strange scar on my chin. After hoping it would go away, I was embarrassed to find out it was a small batch of Staph Infection.  I still have the remainder of that scar on my chin and am grateful for the invention of concealer to cover it up.  But now, I look at that scar and I think of Zachary.  How sweet of God to connect me forever with a beautiful boy in Africa because we were both a little embarrassed about the scars on our face. What a privilege it is to see past Zachary’s scar because of the Jesus that daily looks past mine.

Ruth. I had prayed one day before my trip for specific names to remember while in Zambia. Then, I did a crazy thing that I hardly ever do. I waited. I waited upon the Lord for his answer, for his timing, for his prompting through his spirit. My heart started to beat a little harder and I could not get the name, Ruth, out of my mind. I turned to the book of Ruth in the Bible, read every word and sat so encouraged by the way God can speak through his word. The faithless part of me thought that was it, but there was a mustard seed-sized part of me that thought maybe I’d meet someone named Ruth in Africa. 

After a few days of ministry, I had forgotten all about this cool encounter with God. It was almost my turn to speak at the women’s conference and I was preoccupied with finding some water for my scratchy throat before I spoke for forty five minutes straight. I walked down the hall and immediately stopped because of the face of a little boy. Regretfully, when I see an African baby, all other life forms surrounding that baby seem to disappear. Mothers, fathers, older sisters, teachers- gone. All focus is on that sweet child.  The young woman holding this boy humored me and asked if I could hold him. Duh. We played and laughed and soon I forgot why I even came out to that hallway. The young woman came back a few minutes later. Out of sheer politeness I asked what her name was.  Ruth. I stopped dead in my tracks and probably freaked her out a little by the look on my face. Only for that name would the little boy have become of little interest to me.  Ruth? I have never been more intentional with a person. It’s as if God had given me one mission to find one girl on earth and love her until the cows came home.  We parted eventually and still in shock, I got up to speak. Don’t ask me what I said, how I said it, or what I covered, but somehow I remember sharing the good news of our gospel at the end. The majority of the girls that came to the conference were churched, so I was so encouraged to know of the re-commitments that several girls told me they had made.  Only God.

After we cleaned up, I sat against the edge of the building, exhausted and without thought. Angela came up to me and asked how my small group had ended. After exchanging stories and laughs about the barriers in dialect and culture, she beamed while describing the quiet girl in her group had accepted Christ for the first time.  Full of joy, I asked, “What’s her name anyway?” hoping to remember.

Ruth.  

For God so loved his Ruth that he sent Angela and Kristin over to Africa to love and minister by his power, so that if she believed in him, she would not perish but have everlasting life.

He loves his children that much. Me. You. All of us. He loves THAT much.

I learned countless truths on this trip, but if the only eternal impact came in the form of a sweet, young lady named Ruth becoming fully known by her father in heaven, wow was it worth it.  


Was Victoria Falls the direct portal into the sights of heaven? Yes. Are elephants as big as they look when you’re at the zoo? Bigger. Is the African sunset truly one of the most breathtaking sights? Undoubtedly.  But Ruth’s going to be in heaven for the rest of eternity. With an unveiled face she will see her savior. And that is the most glorious sight she will ever see. 

John 3:16