forget

South African Ladies Praying
photo credit: Newsday.com

There is a certain point of no return you reach in relationships.  The person you know and love is solidly in your heart and you can’t pull back into normal friendship where everyone is supposed ti mind their own business and be friendly and not too familiar.  It’s no different in ministry, where you begin relationships that grow and grow and in your heart and then....BOOM!  You realize that the person is no longer someone you are “working alongside with” or “helping” or “praying for”...they’re someone you really care about in a way similar to family.

One of these ladies that has worked her way in to my heart is a young woman by the name of Forget.  That’s right, her name is Forget.  It kind of makes it easy to remember.

Forget lives in Diepsloot extension 11 where there are more shacks than brick houses and only a section has reliable electricity.  Her own shack is nothing so special, it’s small and has a double bed, a dresser and a table for her food preparation.  It’s been clean every time I’ve visited, even when I’ve surprised her. 

Forget runs a prayer group that meets in the courtyard of four separate shacks that face each other.  The courtyard is covered with old carpet and sometimes puddles in the rain.  Still, the sound of joyful shouting and salvation come from inside of its corners.  The ladies are all known to us as “Forget’s Prayer Group”, but they do all have names and I promise I remember them all.  These ladies have made a bond of friendship in a harsh place and do their best to take care of one another when things are tough.

Things have been tough lately. 

One of the ladies was diagnosed with breast cancer a few months ago and it has spread aggressively.  Last week at church Forget told me that Teresa could no longer feed herself and that her breast seemed infected and swollen.  I made an appointment to go see her the following day, and when I met her I found it was as she said: bleak.  In Teresa’s shack Anna was bathing her and caring for her like a mother cares for a baby.   I was touched.  How often have I done this for a friend?

“How are you Teresa?” I asked after sitting down.  I could tell she was not well.  Teresa cried and pleaded for anything to get the pain to stop.  We made arrangements for her to go to the hospital the following day and I left after a few hours of planning with Forget’s prayer group.  One person to take Teresa, one to wash the bedding while she was gone, how much is taxi fare...etc., etc. 

Forget never wavered, speaking matter-of-factly about every detail that would need to be covered.  At one point she told me the washing powder was finished and we went to get more at a neighboring spaza.  Bessie and I left the place after a good holy dose of prayer that can only be felt if you’ve been in a shack with eight strong Christian women from South Africa.  By the time we were done, my ears were ringing.

I kissed Teresa on the head and she began to cry again.  In a way I didn’t want to go.

This morning I called Forget to see how the whole thing went at the hospital.  She told me some glitches and hiccups, but Teresa was in Helen Joseph where the doctors presented her with even more bleak options for treatment. 

“Forget,” I finally said.  “How are you?”

“I am feeling fine, Janet.”  As is their custom, African women don’t complain.  They think it is selfish to unless you are bleeding from the liver or bruised and can’t walk. 

“Are you feeling well in your heart?” I ventured further.  HOW DO YOU FEEL?  I wanted to know.  She takes care of everyone and does she feel taken care of?

“I have had an incredible time with God today,” she said.  I could tell she was smiling.  What a woman!  What a rock!

“Okay, Forget,” I said.  “If you need to reach me please give me a missed call.”  There was silence.

“I think I am alright, Janet.”

“Okay, but just in case...” I persisted. 

“Yes, Janet.” A bit of silence again, then “Pray for Teresa.”

“I will,” I said.  “I am.”

And then we hung up. 

I walked to the car with Mario who was on his way to another meeting.  I wanted to go back to extension 11 to check in on Forget.  I have never had this feeling before about anyone other than my own kids and Portia. 

“Babe,” I asked Mario as we got into the car.  “Do we have time to go to Helen Joseph?”

“Not today, babe,” he said.  “What happened?”

And as I told him, I asked him if we might go tomorrow.  Our day off, but no appointments. 

As I type now, I am supposed to be answering emails. I keep getting distracted and returning to thoughts of her. 

Forget, my strong friend who needs a hug.  

Vince

A candid shot of Vince and I, playing video games

From KFC I phoned Vince to tell him I arrived in the metropolis of Bloomfield, the largest city I had seen since Albuquerque. 

"Oh, good!" he said, "I'll be there in a few minutes."

I waited, knowing better than to get my camera out to take pictures of our reunion.  Vince hates pictures.  He also hates looking like a tourist.  He struggles with my desire to catch every moment of significance on film.  

It wasn't long before I heard the low, powerful purr of his exhaust system.  His silver Honda Civic, amped up with all kinds of goodies (young people today say "pimped out", but I can't get used to the description), was turning the corner into the parking lot.  I saw him, with Riki beside him, and got tears in my eyes.  For effect, Vince revved his engine, and raised his eyebrows at me, cigarette dangling from his mouth.  It snapped me out of it  - this was my grown son, not my baby.    

Still, it was awesome to see him, and I hugged him, thanking him for awesome directions and supervision.  He admired my rental car, like I cared, while I greeted Riki Jo, his girlfriend.   

We drove to his place, where I met his friends that I had only seen on facebook.  They were awesome, welcoming.  Vince said "This is the McGlassons.  They're my oldest friends in New Mexico."  They both objected at the same time .  "Hey," Nikki said, "We're not old!! We've just known you a long time!"  It was hilarious.  Since Vince moved to New Mexico from Sacramento, his work had mainly consisted of working the oil fields that I had just passed coming here.  Recently, he became part of the oil company's metal shop, and though he enjoyed the work, he did miss family.  Friendships become incredibly important when you are so separated from family.

I finally saw Vince's room from the doorway.  "Here it is!" I said, referring to the backdrop of most of our SKYPE phone calls.  The Chinese flag, a Nelson Mandella backdrop, the headboard of the bed, and the computer which was (strangely) against a wall - the porthole to seeing my son over the airwaves.  For some reason, it seemed smaller, and I never had seen the biggest thing in the room.  

"Whoa! Look at your flat screen!" I looked at the mammoth screen that dominated the wall opposite the bed.  

"Yeah, that's an HDTV," he said.  A must for any gamer or movie aficionado that Vince was. I laughed.  

"Have you told Riki about your deprived childhood?"  I joked.  Our kids were raised by us having one TV with rabbit ears antennae, and a very solid movie collection where we introduced them to fine film (all of them have impeccable taste).  While all of their friends grew up with Nintendo and X-Box, it was a banned entity in our home.  Their adult lives, now, are all filled with fine tech equipment from stereos, to X-boxes and laptops.   All of them are experts and tech-heads now.  We should have banned mathematics.

We decided to check in to my hotel and have Mexican food.  My first night was spent catching up with them over a plate of green chile rellenos (New Mexico is famous for the picante bite of a green chile sauce).  Great salsa, great chips, great conversation, sitting across from them and chatting over a sparkling purple Margarita.  I should have ordered the red sauce and the plain lime Margarita...other than that, the night was perfect.  

The Animas River from the road.

The next day we visited Durango, Colorado, a neighboring town in the neighboring state of Colorado.    

"As soon as you get to Colorado, the terrain changes," Vince told me.  It was true, Colorado became green and gorgeous with the Animas river (a challenge white-water river) coming in and out of the roadway view.  

Durango Center

We soon got to Durango, and decided to walk the streets of Old Town, which was like any American Old Town experience: a western-flavored streets filled with charming shops and great places to eat.  In its streets we walked and chatted more, shopping less than talking.  The city was a distraction for visiting.  

In front of an old time candy store

It was a blast, walking around.  Even the garbage bins reminded me of the stark contrast between America and South Africa.

The following day, Vince and Rikki adopted a kitten named Eddy (their beloved Blue Russian, Fred, had gone missing two and a half weeks before).  It was an interesting process, and seeing their affinity for cats reminded me of all of the ones we owned in the past. 

Eddy (a kitten and a sibling of three others available for adoption) cried all the way home, even though Riki soothed him the best way she could.  He adapted quickly, but we could tell he had been dehydrated in the kennel by the way he was reacting to food and water.  The new addition to Vince and Riki's life mant that our time together would have to be spent where they stayed, only venturing out a couple of times, once to go to a local fair and later to have dinner. 

It meant a lot to be part of their day-to-day lives, so full of "ordinary-ness" that I am not a part of, being so far away.  I felt like the time flew by, and when it was time to say goodbye, Vince comforted me (in the blazing heat of his front yard) as I teared up yet again at another goodbye. Three days in a year is not enough to see my son.  

That day, I drove to Albuquerque, bought an extra carry-on and repacked my (heavy) bags.   I returned my rental car the next day, and flew to San Francisco to board my flight home to Johannesburg.  That brings us to the first blog of this series called "Travel".  

It's been hard to say what the whole trip was like.  I have to focus on God and the calling He has for us.  His promises to take care of the next generation and my "kids" are promises that I hang on to.  I trust Him in an active, bleeding, dying way...unfamiliar to me in this lifetime.        

Michael

Mario with Michael at a party at our house, Feb 2011

If I were honest, I would say that when we came here four years ago, I thought we would change the way that the church was being built in Africa.  We had come on three ocassions for ministry trips and were part of the greatest team raising up new leaders in all communities.  The greatest of these, were the poor.

Since they can't afford medicines, hospitals or even over-the-counter medications, poor churches were relying on the healing power of God, and we saw Him come through with amazing results, partly because of their incredible faith.  Since they can't afford schooling or seminary, the average poor pastor will "educate himself" with the Bible.  Some read all the way through their Bibles a few times a year.  In some very poor countries, rural Pastors may split their Bibles in half and share them with another pastor who doesn't have any.  Many are from heavily tribal areas.  Many are just learning to read.  Many have come from worship of idols and ancestors to a new faith of believing in ONE GOD - and trusting Him with everything.  Some have lost relationship with families who find this a threat and a dishonor... to turn away from tradition and walk by the light of God only.

Watching this as an American, used to American church with American finances, was not only inspirational, it challenged me to throw away my version of faith and take on the radical belief that God is who He says He is.  I have never, ever given my life to anything the way I have given myself to the spread of the true Gospel through Africa.

After awhile travelling the continent and seeing amazing things, Mario decided to take on the role of an elder at Junction and our ministry "settled down" to Northern Johannesburg.  Building up the local church, or encouraging the people here to have accountability and relationship, brought to light the struggle of the average pastor, or lead elder: they must encourage the same people day after day to grow in their destiny, what God has called them to do.

There are two unwritten rules of helping to lead a local church:  1.) You must take care not to burn out; and 2.) You must take care to raise up leaders to replace you.   Without minding the second point, a leader turns into a one man show - taking the place of Jesus.  If you build toward yourself, rather than toward the Lord, the people you are trying to reach become dependent upon you and never learn to lead....

One of the leaders that God put in front of  Mario to "raise up" is a man named Michael.  He is married to a woman named Cynthia, both are active at Junction Church, both are influential in their communities, their families and the church.  They are the kind of people you can count on to do what they say they will do, and are peppered.  Few leaders want to lead in small ways - they usually want to preach to thousands, lead worship, lead prayer or give prophetic words in front of the whole church....especially in traditional churches in South Africa.  We are not a traditional church.

Michael has been leading by example in our church and his community.  He has done a lot of un-glamorous work at Junction - set up the hall, organized public transport, supervised sound and music at weddings.  He cooked food for our pre-service lunches...and all of this was done well.

For years we did the same thing: set up chairs, halls; cleaned the unseen corners of church that could never be seen.  Work like this is never mentioned or acknowledged as great.  Mario's heart has always known that  God saw everything, and everything he did was for God, and that's enough.  I am not as noble, and many times wondered why other people didn't help us get all of the un-glamorous work done. Building a church, I thought, involves servant leadership on many levels - including the grunt work.

Michael and Mario are two men that are rare: not seeking attention, but getting stuff done.  When Mario began a life of church eldership,his main role changed: focusing more on the study of the Word of God, prayer and government, directing the growth of the church God had entrusted him with.

The transition is not as easy as it seems.   A servant setting up the unseen things usually has the heart of a servant, and notice others who do as well.  We became aware that some were doing too much hard work, (Michael among them) and challenged them not to become burned out with the work he was doing.

While they worked together to build up new leaders, Michael became sick.  For the last three months, Michael has been in and out of the hospital for a myriad of health concerns:  a swollen heart, TB, pneumonia, and lungs and feet with edema.  No one here asks about or talks about the virus.  It is a taboo and private thing, especially in the townships.

Our church has been noticing Michael's absence in real ways, and seeing its effect on Cynthia, his wife of many years.  She is part of worship team, and her passion for worship, or praising God is felt every time she sings.  Last Friday we asked her if she wanted to go to the hospital with us when we went to see Michael.  She said yes, and we picked her up from her workplace. We chatted on the way, of new directions we were taking as a church, and a controversial decision to transport church members differently.   By the time we got to the hospital, we were all ready to visit.

Michael was sitting up in bed, seemed like himself and was wrapped in two blankets, a pillow behind his back.  We talked chatted, laughed (his sense of humor is amazingly American, dry and witty)... and gave him a supply of soup for the next couple of days.

Michael's bed was one of eight in his corridor; one of twenty-four in his ward.  The public hospitals are usually known for being inefficient and their staff overworked, and today seemed no different.  I couldn't tell if there was a nurse assigned to his corridor, there didn't seem to be one for the whole ward, so we all made sure he was well taken care of of before we left.

The weekend (as usual) was busy...  Sunday (our day to celebrate) was Mario's birthday...and Father's Day.  It was a wonderful day, although a little chilly.  My trainer came to church; we sat and had coffee afterwards. Mario preached the second service and was awesome.   All the kids called him and we got to see their faces and hear their voices....

Monday (the day filled with meetings) was busy, and we looked forward to the next day, when we had an evening out scheduled to celebrate Mario's birthday.

On Tuesday, Mario went out to the hospital again.  Taking the load of soup and snacks we try to keep him supplied with, we went separate directions, and at 2 o'clock when I came home, Mario was already home and looked sad and tired.

He told me that Michael was very much worse.  He had come to the hospital and found Michael much weaker, winded and discouraged.  He cried, suffering, and told Mario he wasn't sure if he'd pull through.  Many times he told Mario how much he meant to him.  Mario had to feed him the soup he brought, since Michael was too weak to do it himself.

As Mario shared with me, I could see it was weighing heavy on him.  How could we celebrate his birthday when our brother was in the hospital and getting worse??  We prayed, then called the whole church to pray.  I sit and write this, asking you to pray.

We don't have a fool-proof plan on prayer and healing.  I have seen many healed, and I have seen many die.  I do pray, though, that God would heal Michael because I am would like this world not to lose him yet.  Please pray with us...and believe God will do what He promises.  Blessings and Peace....

sanctuary

Joy with her husband, Don 

On Wednesday mornings I meet with a group of gals that are my friends.  They also are sincere "friends of God" and know Him well, in the dark, secret places where no one else can help.  It is my favorite meeting of the week: Lady's prayer.
Without my meetings with these women I would have lost my mind here in South Africa.  In the early days of my move they were the ones I cried to, grieved with and told my greatest fears to.  They prayed earnestly for me, and encouraged me with words of knowledge, wisdom and prophetic insight.


The leaders' name is Joy, my friend who used to be the secretary at church.  She calls herself a granny to most of the kids at church, but she's mostly noted for being outspoken, and prophetic to the spot.  Over the years I've come to see her as a chaser of God's will, like an Olympic Sport.... and a good friend who loves me despite all of my warts.  She hosts the group in her home, and usually steers us in the pattern we are going to pray.  We have danced with flags, prayed through nations, meditated then personalized scripture...and even walked malls in an effort to find sick people and pray for them.  Sometimes I'm not up for anything but sitting in the sun and praying with my friends, but Joy usually destroys my comfort zones in a desire to dance before our daddy together.  She is an incredibly, creative leader.


Stella is the eldest member of our group, but a pistol and a star to all of us.  Jewish by birth, she made a decision for Jesus and never looked back.  Because of her background she knows a lot of Biblical prophecy and tradition, but because of her love for Jesus she knows even greater riches.  A delight and a twinkle, Stella loves greeting me with a holy kiss that makes me feel loved and cherished.  What a pistol!!  She can teach me from any story she chooses to tell.


Lena is an Afrikaans woman who is close in age to Joy; mother of one of my favorite people in South Africa, David.  She is also quite outspoken, but mostly is known for her wit and knowledge of things both deep and trivial.  Also one to press closely to God, she's endured the winds of change in South Africa for years, being content that God is the only one who doesn't change.  She and Mike, her husband serve on eldership at Junction, so we see each other quite a lot.  Inside of Lena is an authority that is filled with God's justice...which makes me listen to her.


Rebecca is a transplant from England and a doctor.  She also loves the anointing and the manifest presence of God, making her quite giddy at the shadows and whispers of Him that we see.  She lives for healing in the supernatural, so she and Joy have spear-headed a plan to have healing rooms in our new building.  Rebecca is the mother of four children and loves her husband and kids, which makes me flashback to those days of my own growing up...  She is a delight and the first English person I have been good friends with...so I have hope that they all don't hate Americans!


Denise is the most tender, open-hearted daughter of the king.  She encourages me with a smile, or a word literally every time I see her.  Like all of us, she prays with fervor and complete dependency for God to move or else we have no hope.  Her gentleness and wisdom are also accompanied by organizational skills, making her be the one who not only gets prophetic vision to do something, but carries it through to be done.  Because of her we began praying at a local police station before their morning meetings (unheard of here!) with a few outside of our prayer group.  I love her encouragement when things go very wrong for us.  She comforts me with the care and comfort that can only come from someone who has been through it all.


Gladys is a supermodel...who is also as encouraging and prophetic as she is gorgeous.  When I first met Gladys she spent extra time with me to talk and get to know me.  She has a way of making everyone feel as if they are the only person in the room, as well as being fun and funny and delightful, making you want to seek her out when you get to a meeting.  She also has grown children and grandkids, so relates to my position in life well.   Because of her desire to pray scripture, her light during the Wednesday morning meetings makes us all grateful...


Then there's Helen.  She is the one who is our tender warrior as I say.  Glowing with light and grace, Helen delivers a vision with so much gentlesness, it is like a cloud floating into our midst.  Blonde and polished, at first meeting you have to know this person is not just a Bergdorff's model, but a sincere daughter of God who wants with all of her heart to do His will, minister to the poor and be a friend.  I can't help comparing Helen to my own mother, a graceful, glowing girl as well.  I love her more because of this comparison, even though Helen is not old enough to be my mom.....


At times Trish will join us, a local artist who prays on her knees and prophesies openly without fear... I have grown to love her, too.

I've grown to love and value all of them.  When I come into the room, Joy is there with her spiral notebook and the rest of the girls with their Bibles and coffees. They all look up at me and greet me (I am usually late) and we begin by asking for prayer for this, prayer for that, etc.

That is, unless we’re going to the mall that day and we’re going to pray for people to get saved. 

My favourite meeting of the week.... and full of all of my favourite gals here.  My friends; my prayer partners. 

prayer

My life (if I had to explain it in an essay) is a contrast of two lives, my life of selfishness and my life of surrender. I wish I could say it was split in half down the middle, but it's not. I am far too selfish to be be completely surrendered. As Miracle Max would say, I am only "mostly dead".

The way I can illustrate this is to tell you of a typical day in my life:
1. Wake up after I sleep in (even my dog has had a potty break and returned to her bed next to me)and find Mario to hug him or find a note from Mario to tell me where he is.
2. Go get coffee -- drink it
3. Check email/facebook/blogspot
4. Try to reach the kids...or connect on facebook or instant messenger
5. Get dressed in workout gear

This is where my two worlds collide -- on some days, after I am dressed I head off to a church meeting, a prayer meeting, a meeting with someone who needs to talk, etc. These things are usually pretty cool. I love all of the morning activities. Then- GYM!!

After gym, I return home, make lunch, eat in front of a TV program and then head out for afternoon activities (Diepsloot, Fourways, Church, etc.) -- or I cook for us later or I cook for someone else. Evening activites require preparation. Marriage enrichment classes, prayer meetings, City Ministry group... return home. Glass of water with ice, wine, and check emails. Now...I blog. Unwind in front of TV, then off to read in bed. MOST of the time. Anything can throw this into disorder. Someone gets sick, someone needs help, someone is crying...a romantic night with Mario or a fight with Mario...

In the middle of my days, I work out to relieve physical stress and to maintain the fitness that full-time ministry requires. On some days I see Natalie, my personal trainer. I hired Natalie to teach me how to make strength training a part of my life. That was two years ago.

I have to tell you now that Natalie is as close to physical perfection of anyone I have ever seen, and I'm from California. Standing barely five feet tall, Nats has a every area of her body in lean, muscular sinews that look like a Leonardo daVinci sketch. Her small frame is tan and clad in gym chic, long black hair and blue eyes that beam with hunger and innocence at the same time. Over time, I have gotten to know her and yearn for her life to become whole by knowing God and feeling His love and calling on her.

Tuesday Natalie called me and sounded panicked. Her friends' new husband was admitted into hospital with a mystery ailment. He was in ICU and very much in danger. She said "I need you to pray."

I asked if I could call other friends to pray as well. She said yes, and I did, knowing that God heals...how much I had been healed of!! ...and secretly hoping that this would be one of the times he would reach out and miraculously heal, not wait.

The Wednesday morning prayer group I am a part of is quite amazing. Led by a little granny (her own description of herself) that wields power and creativity in prayer, it is attended by close friends who are all prophetic, prayerful and have faith for anything. It is my favorite meeting of the week. We all pray for Dylan...and Natalie. In this room, our prayers are powerful, sincere....

The next day I saw Natalie, who said Dylan was doing much better, and she thanked me for praying. I told her that many of our friends had been praying non-stop. The life of a person in relationship with God is always ready to witness healing miracles. She genuinely thanked me and asked me not to stop. She also was arranging an internist to look in on her friend.

Going out on a limb, I asked Natalie if Mario and I could pray over Dylan and his family. Natalie thought awhile and finally said "I can ask, but you know no one can see him except for his wife. Even I can't go in there." I nodded, and told her that we would be happy to pray just with his wife if she wanted us to. She said she would ask, then assured me that Mario and I would be the best choice she could think of to pray over him. I don't know why, but she has grown to trust our "spirituality" not to be too extreme, too over the top.

Physical healing is awesome. But prayer, transcends the physical. The power of prayer lies in the reality that we as people can connect with God Almighty...our creator and the sovereign One who holds us in His hands. Something beautiful in it is knowing that God hears us...and He answers.

Tonight I pray for Alicia, as always for physical healing. I pray for her to know God as HER God, and to trust Him for everything. I pray for Vince...that he be able to have victory in his life and be connected with God in a Father/son way. I pray for Patty, Colleen, Steve, Shari... their kids. My sweet Harmony, that I trust God to keep close to me when I am far away. My parents, my friends... How full is my heart of prayer...? There are no oceans or planets that could fit all I pray for.

He knows every word I will speak before any one of them come to be.