Oh Africa...

All month staying in a village called Wanyange, I’ve been hearing a mysterious playing of the Titanic song wafting up to our place on the breeze. It was canned, as if a midi file, or a music box, just the simple notes, no voice, no instruments. Frankly, it’s annoying. And the high notes would come to us off-key. I would always look at Gabi like, “Where in the world is that coming from!” She said it was probably someone’s ringtone. But it was so loud and sang out to us so often! I said it sounded like an ice cream truck, but we laughed at the thought of such a thing in the middle of nowhere in Uganda…

The other day walking down the motorway to find a boda, I heard it again and thought, “Ooh! Maybe I’ll finally solve the mystery of the awfully played Titanic song!” And presently a young guy on a bike came riding toward us with an ordinary cooler tied to his handlebars and a sign on it saying, “ICE CREAM” :)

Oh Africa :)

There’s a chapel on Racham’s compound, just in the other wing of the house. A faithful congregation meet there nearly everyday, at various times of day. I have woken at 4am some nights to hear them still singing and clapping and praying. At the beginning, the pastor used to knock on our door every night to pray over us. And often there are little groups of people praying together in the garden of an afternoon. I love that this compound is a place of prayer.

My last night there as I finished a call from Charles and locked up the lounge, I was struck by how loudly they were holding their service, and at a quarter past midnight. As I walked up the porch to our bedroom, my hair wanted to stand on end. They weren’t just praying, but shouting, wailing, moaning, and even screaming! And the sounds weren’t coming from the chapel, but from the darkness of the garden! Gabi got out of bed when I came in to have a look out and investigate, and we stood on the porch straining our eyes to see what was happening. There seemed to be a group of people marching or dancing around a fire in the garden. We knew they were praying, but the sounds they made were bone-chilling!! And, on my last night with Racham, that’s what I fell asleep to; the moaning, wailing, and screaming of a strange midnight prayer meeting in the dark garden!

Oh Africa, indeed!

A Sunday Visit

Our friend Dan took us out to his parents’ village Nyenge across the Nile yesterday to show us where he’d grown up and introduce us to his family. We stopped for lunch at a GORGEOUS resort on Lake Victoria first, where I got to dip my toes in the mighty, and warm!, largest tropical lake in the world for the first time! My God’s world is so big and so wonderful… Gabs and I travelling on one boda, and Dan on another, we drove in caravan through the gorgeous hills surrounding Lake Victoria, the sun kissing our shoulders and the breeze from the moving boda keeping the heat down to only sweltering rather than scorching ;)

It truly felt such an honour to arrive in the village and be welcomed by Dan’s gorgeous elderly auntie. He said she is older than 86 years old (people often don’t know the years they were born here). I found her simply beautiful. Her wrinkles and laugh lines could tell so many stories. She spread out a little bit of cloth on a bench for Gabs and I, and sat next to us, speaking to us in her language with Dan translating, making us feel as honoured guests. It’s overwhelming, the hospitality here! Even her neighbours came over to shake our hands and make us feel welcome :)

From there, we walked up the dusty village road to Dan’s parents’ land where he grew up. He was once one of the little boys running to the edges of their gardens and shouting happily, “Mzungu! Mzungu! How are you?” :)

His parents and sister came out to greet us, the women giving hugs. They brought out chairs for us to sit in the shade of a tree in the garden and again, treated us as if we were royalty come to visit. So humbling and beautiful! His sister had her 3 children there and introduced them to us one by one. Her youngest was an absolutely gorgeous, chubby 4-month-old named Bethany who completely grabbed my heart. I have been missing loving on His littlest ones (bring on this next month at Acacia Tree, a baby home in Entebbe!) and the way He speaks to me of His heart in them. We chatted with Dan’s very wise-looking dad and anyone else who came to join us. His mother hugged us each about 3 times. Hehe :) And shortly before we got up to go, she came over and simply laid Bethany in my arms, as if God had whispered to her heart directly how much this random Mzungu would be encouraged by a cuddle. It was only the quickest bit of time, but they were moments that spoke to me of His heart which I can’t get enough of… Then Dan walked us back into the land to see genuine coffee beans growing on the trees! And to tell us of his and his fiance’s plans to build a good school here on this land and give the children of the village a real chance in the world. The Lord moves through people like these, so willing to be His hands and feet!

 

They wanted to make food for us but we’d just eaten and Dan had somewhere he had to be, so they insisted we come back again another time to eat :) And they sent us away with loads of peanuts and bananas they’d grown themselves!

This may have been one of my favourite Ugandan experiences yet, being welcomed in to a genuine village home where we hardly have to speak the same language to communicate grace and love and hospitality. My God blesses me through these kind people every day.  

May God bless Dan and his fiancé and his family! The friendships He provides in His generosity warm my heart…

Faith Like a Child

Walking through our village to catch a boda-boda to the nearby town, Gabs and I have always drawn a lot of attention, especially from the village children. From day 1, EVERY SINGLE TIME they see us, every child runs to the end of their gardens shouting “Mzungu! Mzungu! How are you?”, completely delighting us with the joy in their faces when we smile and wave and say hello and we’re fine and ask how they are.

3 of the neighbourhood children have befriended us particularly. They have begun to not just run to the end of their gardens, but right out into the dusty red road. Giggling, they take our hands so we are walking all 5 of us side-by-side. Every day, they drop whatever they are doing to run to us, laughing at their own boldness, and walk with us hand-in-hand until we have to turn towards the motorway. I have chatted to them as much as their grasp of English will allow, and I have giggled with them all the way down that road, just bursting with love for these precious children who have adopted us as their dear Mzungu friends :)

They are called Adam, Doreen, and Ayisa, and their bright smiles radiate the heart of God to me.

Yesterday morning, as Ayisa slipped her hand into mine, she shyly tucked a bit of paper stained with red dust into my palm… Opening it, I found pictures she’d drawn of butterflies and flowers and leaves and a mouse, and a long letter in strong, even penmanship. “Hello my best friend,” the first line said. She wrote of how her parents died in an accident on the way to their village and left her when she was 3 years old. She doesn’t know how old she is now. She wrote of how one day God showed us to her and how she hopes we can help her to go to school. She wrote, “I am a well-behaved child,” which I already knew from my weeks walking with her and observing her pleasant, quiet nature, “and a girl who fears God the Creator,” which I didn’t know until that moment. She finished the letter by leaving us “under God’s protection.”

I’ve felt a sort of heaviness of heart since. Her precious hand pressed this letter into mine with such hope…

We discussed immediately if she could be one of the girls God is sending to Racham, but as she seems very settled with relatives and taken care of along with the other 2, it seems unlikely. But it costs $300.00 a year for a child to attend school here. And not only being poor, but an orphan, the chances of Ayisa finishing school are slim without help…

Gabi says it’s very common for children here to write such letters, and to make all kinds of requests to a white person simply because they’re white so they must have money, and I see that… but Ayisa, in her quiet, shy nature, asking simply to be helped to go to school because she hasn’t anyone to help her… it settles heavy in my heart. Not feeling very well today, I spent part of the afternoon out of the heat, with curtains drawn, lying in bed and feeling the heaviness of the suffering of the precious children I see each day, the injustices, and desiring so deeply to be able to DO SOMETHING about it all! How come some of us are born on that side of the equator where we don’t have to spend our childhoods hauling the family water from the village pump in dirty jugs? How come some of us are born into countries where we have to go to school whether we like it or not and others just long for the chance to be educated that they might get somewhere in life but the possibility is dangled so high above them that they must long for it like a far-off dream? It seems so unfair that what some people spend in a week in one country could keep this precious child in this one in school for a whole year…

It all felt too big. Not having the money, I felt I had nothing to offer her. And it was heart-breaking.

But that night as I spread my bible study out before me in the coolness of the porch in the evening, He began to speak to my heart. Leah, you have everything to give her. You have Me. I pulled out my notepad and began to write her a reply. Unsure of how to reply except for with one thing. Him.

I told her that I, the one of her mzungu friends named Leah, am leaving in a few days, but that I have so loved getting to know her, that I can indeed see that she is a well-behaved girl, a very precious girl. That the best way I can help her is to pray for her, because that Creator God she fears is the same Father God I love, and He loves her more than words can say. I encouraged her to pray with me that He will provide the way for her to go to school. I encouraged her to call on Him all the days of her life, and that I would be praying for her even when I go home across the ocean, that I wouldn’t forget her, and that He would never lift His eyes from her sweet face. And that He is right there for her to talk to, day or night, because He loves her and sent His Son Jesus so that she could one day live with Him forever. This precious girl with no parents and such a beautiful, dimpled smile and a heart so wide open it would love the whole world…

When we woke up this morning, 2 of Gabi’s friends had responded to the call she put out on Facebook for sponsors to send Ayisa to school :) So even before I could hand her my reply to the letter on our morning walk encouraging her to trust Him, He’d answered our prayers. My Abba-Daddy will not forget the orphan…

And when she learns of how He’s provided, I pray she will not think, “Mzungus have the connections to help” but “God is so big and He loves me so!” and she will be drawn to love Him more than anything in her world all the days of her life...

And He speaks to me in this about having faith like a child.
I have a lot to learn from beautiful little depictions of His heart like Ayisa. I will cherish holding her hand for 3 more days before I leave for Entebbe. And I will pray for her for much longer…

Thank You, Abba! Your love is so big...

A Quotation from Radical by David Platt

Pages 17-18--

“Jesus tells his disciples, ‘The kingdom of heaven is like treasure hidden in a field. When a man found it, he hid it again, and then in his joy went and sold all he had and bought that field.’

I love this picture. Imagine walking in a field and stumbling upon a treasure that is more valuable than anything else you could work for or find in this life. It is more valuable than all you have now or will ever have in the future.

You look around and notice that no one else realizes that treasure is here, so you cover it up quickly and walk away, pretending you haven’t seen anything. You go into town and begin to sell off all your possessions to have enough money to buy that field. The world thinks you’re crazy. ‘What are you thinking?’ your friends and family ask you.

You tell them, “I’m buying that field over there.”

They look at you in disbelief. ‘That’s a ridiculous investment,’ they say. ‘Why are you giving away everything you have?”

You respond, ‘I have a hunch,’ and smile to yourself as you walk away.

You smile because you know. You know that in the end you are not really giving away anything at all. Instead you are gaining. Yes, you are abandoning everything you have, but you are also gaining more than you could have in any other way. So with joy—with joy!—you sell it all, you abandon it all. Why? Because you have found something worth losing everything else for.”

...Amen, amen, amen!

An Update on Registration

“You faithfully answer our prayers with awesome deeds, O God our Saviour. You are the hope of everyone on earth…” – Psalm 65:5

It should not be surprising, His favour, since we are beloved children of His, and yet, still, I gaze at Him with eyes wide with wonder :)

Last week the Lord has brought us along the process of registering Racham Ministries in Uganda full speed ahead. Our awesome Ugandan friend Isaac, whom the Lord provided at just such a time as this, knows exactly who to see, and takes us right there, visiting one official after another, getting forms signed and stamped. He’s also helping to edit the ministry’s constitution. We’d be lost without him. What has taken other “mzungu” (white) ministries half a year to process, we have come through in 2 weeks. God’s hand is upon us! How exciting is that?

And His hand of provision is here too, just pouring out for each need as He moves people’s hearts to give—some people Gabi has never even met!

Again and again, He moves to teach me that “[He] is committed to providing abundant resources in support of those who are living according to His purpose” (David Platt). Whether its finance for a ministry, a kind, knowledgeable, trusted friend to gives us guidance in a confusing process (or 2 or 3, even! He has provided us with so much generous help!), or the emotional support of a phone call from a much-missed, wise, and loving boyfriend a million miles away.

This is my Father. He calls me His. And what can I do with such grace but share it to tell of His glorious hope to everyone on earth?

Serving in awe in Uganda…
Love,
Leah

This and That

Uganda continues to enthrall me with all the mysteries of stepping into a culture I don’t know. I feel like each day is welcoming me to come out and greet it with wonder, and so I do. But with a wonderful sense of peace walking through the unknowns, which is only Him teaching me to rest inside His faithful heart which knows this place with as much intimacy as I don’t. I live in wonder of Him, really.

Jinja Town

This week has found us wandering through the colourful, dusty market in Jinja, the nearest town, many a day in search of items as we set up Gabi’s house in preparation for the girls arriving. The market is an area the size of a city block or two, and packed out with makeshift stalls set up in something resembling rows in the dirt. The smells that greet you at the market range from mouth-watering to stomach-churning, and you must watch where you place your feet in the dirt. You can find almost anything you can imagine in the claustrophobia and chaos of the market—from rice, fruit, and veggies (some with names I’ve never even heard before) to toothpaste, pots and pans (with no lids), shoes, home-sewn sheets, and buckets full of grasshoppers… which they eat like a tasty little pop-in-your-mouth snack…  I always want to take photos of the market and the magic of all of its cramped and overflowing stalls but I already feel so conspicuous just being “mzungu”, and haven’t gotten quite bold enough yet :) If we show any interest in anything on the stands, we are swarmed by people trying to sell their wares. For some strange reason, they call us “Mama” when they address us.

The shop names in Jinja continue to delight me. Yesterday we saw two electrical shops and they were named “Care of Hope Electrical Centre” and “Faith Electrical Shop”. Hehe. They just seem such mismatched concepts :) I’ve seen another something along the lines of “Jesus is Lord Clothing” :) Uganda is full of such signs—the back of nearly every Coaster (mini-bus) says something about God’s goodness. I should think it would be really comforting,  but I don’t find it so. It feels a bit like empty words splashed across everything this way…

Church

On Sunday we went to our first church service. The first Sunday we were here, Gabi was a bit under-the-weather so we stayed home to rest. This Sunday we went along with a missionary friend of Gabi’s, Katie Davis, an awesome American girl no older than I am who has adopted 13 awesome Ugandan girls (who wrap our hearts around their pinky fingers! On Sunday morning, Katie’s 4-year-old Grace plopped herself in my lap, leaned against my chest, and started singing, “This is my friend, this is my friend, this is my friend” :) Oh!!), to a mainly mzungu church run by American missionaries, so Gabi could see some friends there. The chairs were set up in the garden, under tall, shady trees, and out in the beautiful open Ugandan air and I thought, “Mmm, I could get used to this!” until I discovered that the MASSIVE palace-like structure we were sat in the yard of was the pastor’s house…. I could hardly concentrate on worship then, and I chided myself for being judgmental, but it disturbs me so much that, anyone, let alone Christian missionaries representing Jesus, could live in such a place in the midst of such poverty, when just down the road the very people they’ve been sent to serve are living in disheveled shacks of every description. Even living in an ordinary house in Uganda you’re better off than most of the homes I’ve seen. It just upset me so much. I realize that I don’t actually know the situation—I’m just a visitor one Sunday and the pastor and family weren’t even there, but back in America on furlough, and when Katie and I were discussing it afterwards (and she finds it equally frustrating, but appreciates that it’s an English-speaking church) she said that they explain that they need it in order to host mission teams once a year and I obviously don’t know all that that entails. But without knowing the full details, I just felt sickened by the disparity between this gated palace of the missionaries’ and the reality of the people outside those gates…

Nonetheless, the pastor speaking, another American, gave a great sermon and afterwards the whole church was introduced to a young Ugandan man whom had just come to give his life to Christ. I am so thankful for the way He works through us in spite of us!

Last night we found our way to a Muslim hospital in town where a group of missionaries were having a Bible Study, strangely enough. Most of these people Gabi knew from previous times in Uganda, and I’d met a few from church or around town and been drawn to them immediately. I love missionaries! It was a beautiful thing to sit in the middle of that run-down hospital courtyard with all of these strangers from all these far distances, drawn to this country for a common purpose—to serve Him. As we sang some worship before having a teaching from The Word, patients and staff were drawn out by the music and sat with us on nearby benches.  You could hear sick people being violently violently violently ill in a room off the courtyard, and nurses and doctors rushed by at various times, and yet there was such a beautiful sense of peace, sense of community, sense of fellowship with this group of strangers (most of them American). Such an honest and genuine desiring after this God Whom has so captivated each of our hearts. If you don’t already know and support a (genuine, humbly seeking Christ) missionary, I encourage you to get out there and find one. He teaches me so much through such recklessly abandoned souls.

Racham Business

Yesterday we found ourselves back in the presence of The Chairman, seeking his good favour over Racham Ministries, and his stamp and signature on the forms to be registered as a Community-based Organisation in Uganda. Knowing his importance in the region, and having heard from other missionaries the difficulties the officials give Westerners coming in to Uganda to start ministries, it was a bit nerve-wracking to sit in his “office” (a dingy, dusty stationery store on a crazy market street) and wait as he looked over the constitution and contemplated signing and stamping the form before him. To our surprise (though, why should we be surprised with such a God as ours?), not only did he stamp and sign it with a smile and no questions asked, but he waived our offer of payment—as they normally require 2,000 to 10,000 shillings for this service (about $1 to $5), something similar to what we would call a bribe, I guess, but so ingrained in the culture that it’s just like an accompanying fee. Isaac, the Ugandan social worker friend of ours, couldn’t believe he didn’t require any money. He’s never seen him do that before :) Thank You for Your favour, Lord :)

Isaac took us around to another “LC”, local council member, in our own little village to get another signature (it pays to know someone who knows everyone :)) and it was surreal to me the way this business works. We went to the home of the LC, a dirt enclosure with chickens wandering in and out through the open door. They brought out 3 plastic chairs for us to sit on in the red dust and all the family members around came out to shake our hands and make us welcome, their clothing ripped and caked with dirt and dust. I find Ugandans so friendly and kind, so welcoming. What a different world, what a different world…

On the house front, God is coming through with needed funds just as quickly as we run out in preparing the place for the girls (the kitchen is nearly finished so the immediate construction needs will be out of the way, but we need to get beds for the girls, pay the salaries of various staff, pay the administration fees to get the paperwork done, plus all the little extras which pop up!…). The other day it was a random donation from Gabi’s friend, whose fiancée is on the Ugandan board of directors. And, one couple in America Gabi knows whom have been unemployed for a long while have just found a job and are giving their whole first month’s salary to God and supporting various ministries with it—Racham will be one of them! Keep praying for this practical need, friends! And praising for how He comes through too.

Ugandan Wildlife… in our room

The last few nights I have woken in the darkness to the sound of scratching and scrambling by some little creature about our room. I didn’t feel too apprehensive about what African wildlife we may be dealing with, just curious, and the curiosity kept me from sleep. I wondered if it could be the shy little gecko who often visits our bathroom walls but I thought he would have to be getting mighty bold to come into the bedroom! This morning my curiosity was assuaged when I opened my suitcase to find clothes for the day and had the quickest little brown mouse I have ever seen jump out at me and scurry away! Needless to say, I will be zipping my suitcase closed from now on…

Far worse than that, last night I reached my hand into the toothbrush cup to get out my toothbrush and the toothpaste, and THE MOST GINORMOUS cockroach greeted me, and crawled up my hand!!!! Ugh…. It was massive, and with antennae as long as its entire body or longer, just to complete the hugeness. It was disgusting!! Goodness, it was huge. But I strangely feel as if I took it in stride more so than I would expect, and same with the mouse. It’s just part of the life here, so I just accept it and move on. But oh my goodness—moral of the story? Cockroaches in Africa are MASSIVE.

And She Rode Side-Saddle

I am SO thankful for “my” internet cafe in Jinja where I’m able to go a few times a week so far and send emails, touch base with Facebook, and upload photos! It’s run by the nicest Ugandan ladies and situated right off the main street. Because Gabi has a personal modem on her computer, I tend to need more time there than she does, so have managed a few afternoons there on my own—even getting some writing done and sent out to editors—and then making my way back out to our little village on my own after they close. Now, I LOVE the boda-boda, which are just ordinary, rather well-used motorbikes used as taxis (You wouldn’t believe all they fit on ordinary motorbikes here. Today we passed another boda-boda carrying a whole sofa and two chairs tied on behind the driver! Another day I’d seen a family of 5 crowded on the back of one boda!), but I have only ever ridden on them with Gabi, and taken the coaster—a mini-bus taxi—when I’m on my own. Since there have always been two of us riding behind one guy, I have only ever ridden astride, despite the fact that the Ugandan way is for ladies to ride only “side-saddle”. For some reason, the thought of riding with both legs to one side has frightened me from day one! Just… such an unstable way to ride on the back of a little, fast-moving motorbike and I was a bit nervous about it. But culturally, it’s not appropriate to ride astride without a reason for it. So… today, for the first time, I breathed a prayer, and politely perched myself on the back of a boda-boda… side-saddle!

It WAS precarious-feeling, as if you truly are perched, and you must use your whole body to maintain balance, especially around the roundabouts :) But the breeze on the back of the boda wiped away the burn of the blazing afternoon heat, and as the beautiful Ugandan landscape passed by with the goats and cows roaming freely about the ditches, I closed my eyes and smiled at the feeling of freedom and wonder at this strange world I find myself in and this huge God Who put me here.

He spoke to me of trust in the experience. Of taking a deep breath, hopping on behind Him, and letting Him carry me away. Letting go and trusting Him often feels precarious, whether it means following Him to a new culture and new country, or following Him into a whole new level of self-awareness or emotional healing or relational vulnerability—either way, it’s following Him into a whole new world where you must rely on Him and not yourself. It’s surrender. And it’s scary. But it’s beautiful and freeing… and I don’t want anything less.

Oh Uganda, the lessons you have to teach me of His heart :)

The God Who Sees Me

“We are not an afterthought to God. We are the point of His involvement with this planet.” – B. Moore



I am eating up my bible study on Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob these days in Africa. It’s Saturday today and Gabs and I have been able spend a rare day at home doing all of our laundry by hand while the carpenters work away on the soon to be built kitchen and the heavy Ugandan rain breaks up the sky! Unreal.



The lesson on Genesis 16 has floored me today. It’s a familiar story. Abram and Sarai are getting on in years and still haven’t been able to bless their marriage with a child. Sarai, growing impatient, tells her husband to have a baby for them with her servant Hagar instead (…Seriously…) but after Hagar becomes pregnant with Abram’s child, Sarai changes her mind (yeah, anyone might have told her it would be a mistake!) and begins to treat her now despised servant harshly—so harshly that the young, overwhelmed, mistreated Hagar runs away, trying to get back to Egypt where she came from.



But there in the desert, a loving God seeks her out. She is met by “an angel of God” (but when you read into the Hebrew wording, you realize it is God Himself in the form of a man appearing like an angel) and He speaks with her. Hagar was Egyptian. She didn’t know this God of the Hebrews, so didn’t believe in Him and seek Him out. He sought her. That thought moves me so much. And it did Hagar as well. Gen 16:13 says, “Thereafter, Hagar referred to the Lord, who had spoken to her, as ‘The God who Sees Me,’ for she said, ‘I have seen the One who sees me!’” Hagar had been used like a piece of property, “used” in every sense of the word. Her personhood completely overlooked. Except for by a God she didn’t even know, but Whom had always known her.



What I’d never realized before was that when Hagar gave God a name—“The God Who Sees Me”—she was the first and last person, male or female, to ever give Him a name in the whole of the Old Testament. He could have appeared to any of the 3 characters in this story—Abram and Sarai were Hebrews, at least!—but He chose to speak to the down-trodden Hagar. Hagar, the Egyptian maid-servant. The foreigner and the slave and the woman, the runaway, unmarried, pregnant woman at that. In such a culture and day in age, she was the lowest of low nobodies. To my God with His heart of love and compassion, she was of utmost value. And He saw her. (And gave her even scholarly significance as being the only recorded OT character to give Him a name!).



I am awash with wonder when I think of it in light of the majesty I know He is made of. This is what I love most about my Highest of High God; His attentiveness to the hearts of the nobodies like me—and the half-naked children hauling water home in dirty jugs from the water pump just outside our gate here; and the carpenter who only finished our bathroom door before he had to stop work to go to the hospital with a suspected case of AIDS, which strikes “nobodies” all across this continent like nowhere else; and the beautiful, old-as-time lady with the deepest lines in her face whom we saw on the street yesterday, carrying a massive load on her head wrapped in a dirty cloth and holding out her hand saying her well-practiced bit of English, “Give me money”— He sees each individual nobody; we are the point of His involvement with this planet in coming as Jesus Christ to die that we might know Him and live. He sees us when all is well, and He smiles with our smiling hearts. And He sees us when we are hiding behind a frail smile, and kisses at the wounds hiding there. He sees every single effort we make which goes unnoticed, every varied emotion which rolls through our souls and rocks us with it, every tear of frustration shed or left inside. He sees every kind of joy dancing in our spirits which we cannot put to adequate words. He sees it all. He always has. El Roi—The God Who Sees.



And I cannot respond with anything but love. And praise. And a grateful life of serving Him because of Who He is and a desperate desire for others to know Him too. This God who sees them and loves them, no matter the state their in.



This God who sees you and loves you, no matter the state you’re in.
The next time you find yourself run into your desert, notice Him there. He’s sought you out. You are the point of His involvement with this planet.

He sees you.