Today Jesus met me in the classroom.
Every morning for class devotions, one of the teachers leads off the students in worship, with the only musical accompaniment being a drum. Together, they sing songs of praise, often in Luganda, at full voice. After several songs, they all kneel and pray to God - arms raised high, eyes closed shut, crying out their praises and hurts to Him.
Today during prayer time, the Holy Spirit’s presence was so evident. There wasn’t a single student or teacher not deep in conversation with the Lord. Even some of the most stubborn children who often don’t see the need for prayer, had their arms raised and were crying out to God. Teacher Immaculate stood up, and instead of heading straight into devotions, started singing a simple verse, in English. Everyone joined in, singing this simple and sweet song of joy, while shaking each other’s hands. The joy that was spread across all of their faces was completely from the Lord. Not a soul on this Earth could walk into that classroom and not be struck by the Love from above. As I sat there, joining in song, shaking hands with students, I couldn’t help but be overcome by His presence. Tears began to stream down my face while I smiled wide. My heart and soul were overfilled by his perfect love and joy.
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Every morning for class devotions, one of the teachers leads off the students in worship, with the only musical accompaniment being a drum. Together, they sing songs of praise, often in Luganda, at full voice. After several songs, they all kneel and pray to God - arms raised high, eyes closed shut, crying out their praises and hurts to Him.
Today during prayer time, the Holy Spirit’s presence was so evident. There wasn’t a single student or teacher not deep in conversation with the Lord. Even some of the most stubborn children who often don’t see the need for prayer, had their arms raised and were crying out to God. Teacher Immaculate stood up, and instead of heading straight into devotions, started singing a simple verse, in English. Everyone joined in, singing this simple and sweet song of joy, while shaking each other’s hands. The joy that was spread across all of their faces was completely from the Lord. Not a soul on this Earth could walk into that classroom and not be struck by the Love from above. As I sat there, joining in song, shaking hands with students, I couldn’t help but be overcome by His presence. Tears began to stream down my face while I smiled wide. My heart and soul were overfilled by his perfect love and joy.
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There is no comparison to how He cares for us. We are utterly incapable of comprehending the weight and worth of what He does for us. We are the people that fail Him constantly and everyday - yet He continues to cover us with his grace, his love, his protection, and his mercy.
“But as it is written, ‘What no eye has seen, nor ear heard, nor the heart of man imagined, what God has prepared for those who love him’ these things God has revealed to us through the spirit. For the Spirit searches everything, even the depths of God.”
1 Corinthians 2:9,10
Our God is a compassionate God.
He holds our hands when we are weak and carries us when when we have nothing left.
I mentioned in my first post on this blog, how I had gone through a transformative time in my life a couple of years ago. I was at my lowest, but through the grace of God, he guided me out of the darkness that had consumed me. I have never been good with expressing myself to others. Whether if it’s explaining how I feel or attempting to describe something, I can rarely get what I mean across properly. That is why I write. It’s become a tool for me to use as a source of therapy, debriefing, and creativity. During that dark time in my life, I wrote a lot of poetry - in my pain and in my healing. This poem I wrote during/after my healing period.
“Drowning.”
Suffocated. Overwhelmed. Engulfed.
I was surrounded by stormy waters with no sight of the shore.
Each crashing wave another blow to my withering strength.
Emptily hanging on tight in desperation.
Clinging on to any slight glimpse of hope streaming through the clouds.
The surface slowly slipping from my tight grip and being lost out of sight, until -
Gone.
And then - a hand.
A hand reaches down through the rocky seas.
Past the surface and straight to me.
Rescued, saved, and delivered.
Back afloat, or maybe, finally for the first time.
At last those sight glimpses of hope are rays of warmth stricken within.
Now standing firm, on the shoreline,
watching peacefully as the waves wade against each other.
At last,
I can breathe.
——--
Suffocated. Overwhelmed. Engulfed.
I was surrounded by stormy waters with no sight of the shore.
Each crashing wave another blow to my withering strength.
Emptily hanging on tight in desperation.
Clinging on to any slight glimpse of hope streaming through the clouds.
The surface slowly slipping from my tight grip and being lost out of sight, until -
Gone.
And then - a hand.
A hand reaches down through the rocky seas.
Past the surface and straight to me.
Rescued, saved, and delivered.
Back afloat, or maybe, finally for the first time.
At last those sight glimpses of hope are rays of warmth stricken within.
Now standing firm, on the shoreline,
watching peacefully as the waves wade against each other.
At last,
I can breathe.
——--
As my time here is nearing the end, and as the other mzungus (Luganda for white person) here are leaving one by one before me, I’ve found myself in a very reflective mindset. Each new day is one day less of being in Uganda. Every time I go to a classroom or lead devotions, I count how few of these moments are left. It’s so hard for me to believe how fast time has gone by here.
In two weeks today I’ll be stepping back on that plane…