It never fails that when I come back to the USA, (especially after a trip where God does amazing things) I pretty much get immediately hit with things that try to pop my balloon.
Things I didn't expect.
Things that in my mind, I shouldn't have to deal with.
I'm sure every pastor feels that way. I know I am not alone, and I do realize at the end of the day, what we're talking about is spiritual warfare. It is all designed by the enemy to cause the man or woman of God to never want to step out and do anything again.
Does a person ever really get used to spiritual warfare? I'm not sure. As for me, I think I will forever be learning how to handle it until God takes me home. This time as I laid in my bed, very tired the last few days, mulling over things that were hitting me here and there, I decided to do a little comparison with something a co-pastor friend of mine in Kenya shared with me on this last trip. I have learned that women in Africa possess a strength that few of us American women could ever comprehend and I find it fascinating to listen to their stories.
I have heard my friend preach a number of times, and watch her lead a phenomenal group of people into the things of God. She's one of the most anointed women I know. But until last week I never realized that when it came to the birth of one of her seven children, she had to deliver him alone. No one was there to help her, or perhaps it was just inconvenient for them to help her...I'm not sure which one. She delivered her baby alone, in the back yard. I asked her, "how long did you stay there?" She said, "not long, because it started to rain as I was having him, so after delivering him I quickly came inside." Evidently this is not so rare in African culture. Some women have babies in the field and keep right on going. They do it all alone -- the labor, the delivery, cutting the cord, caring for the child and themselves. They just do what they have to do at the time.
My life is officially a piece of cake.
When it comes to my back yard the most difficult thing I do is weed kill, trim the bushes and take the dogs out.
Perspective. That's what I need today.................perspective. A little perspective really does us good now and then.
* After writing this blog post I thought about a new name that was given to me in Kenya last week. On my second trip to Africa I was invited to be part of two tribes - the Maasai tribe and the Kikuyu tribe. A friend from Kenya, Pastor Walter Nyangweso, gave me the name Deanna Ole Wanjiku (Ole is a Masai name, Wanjiku a Kikuyu name). This time I was invited to also be part of the Luhya tribe which is the one Pastor Jane Tembu belongs to. In doing so she and Catherine Nyangweso (Pastor Walter's wife) said I needed a Luhya name to go with the others. They named me Nafula which means "rains". They said this means, "a blessing of rain -- though muddy, you will have a blessing of plenty." Yes, Lord, yes!