On Getting Tested for HIV

I was the all-American good girl growing up. I turned my homework in on time, studied for tests, and got straight A's. I never drank or smoke or did drugs. I went on mission trips. I never dated. (I was, after all, part of the "I Kissed Dating Goodbye" generation.) And I saved myself for marriage...

I never even kissed a guy till I met my husband.

We fell in love as missionaries in his home country of South Africa. We got married and pioneered a ministry in the poorest region of the country.

It was the thing of fairy-tales...

So I never in a million years expected I'd ever have to get tested for HIV.

But I did.

Because my husband was unfaithful. And because we lived in the country with the highest AIDS-infection rate in the world.

He was with her for over a year-and-a-half before the truth came out. And when it did, he chose her. Over me. Over the ministry. He walked away from it all, in pursuit of a new fairy-tale all his own.

With my life crumbling all around me, I was forced to face things I'd never imagined.

Like an HIV test.

I couldn't hold back the tears as vial after vial of blood was taken.

My heart hurt far more than my arm did. I sobbed over the fact that I even needed to get tested. And I wished I had someone there with me. To hold my hand, literally and metaphorically.

My HIV test came back negative (for which I was—and am— overwhelmingly grateful), and I was given some heavy-duty antibiotics to kick any possibility of STDs. So all is well.

Physically.

But, even two years later, I'm still trying to process the reality that someone who professed for-life love put me in this vulnerable position.

And I wrestle with feeling that saving myself for him was a waste. (Even when I know it wasn't.)

I wish there was a pill that could cure my heart of distrust, fear, and insecurities. But there's no quick remedy for broken trust, a violated heart, and a deep-seated fear of rejection.

All I can do is trust the Healer...

Even when it still hurts.

Originally a guest post on Prodigal Magazine. Read the comments there >

turning the tide

A huge part of what we do at Thrive Africa is AIDS prevention. I love our strategy for combating HIV because I know we are making a difference. The fruit speaks for itself. And I don't mind shouting that from my blog. Because it's not a pat on my back, it's a pat on God's.

There are a lot of agencies focusing on the effects of the AIDS crisis--building hospices to care for the dying, establishing orphanages for the scores of children left parentless, and providing services to those infected and affected by HIV. I believe in the urgent need for each one of those things. But I also know if we don't start focusing on the cause of the AIDS crisis, we're going to lose an entire generation in Africa.

The vision God's burned into my heart is to mobilize next generation leaders to live God-honoring lives. The only thing that will truly turn the tide of the AIDS pandemic is lives transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit. Long-lasting behavioral change comes from the work of God in a submitted heart. So we teach thousands of students each week in public schools about the purpose God has for them and how to avoid getting HIV so they can actually fulfill that purpose.

Our reason for teaching students isn’t just to prevent them from getting AIDS. Our primary purpose is to lead them into growing relationships with God. As they grow as Christ-following leaders, they'll learn to make wise choices in every area of their lives.

You can learn more about our AIDS prevention program, how you can invest into Africa, and opportunities to serve with us on Thrive's website.

i am only one, but i am one

"I am only one, but I am one.I cannot do everything, but I can do something. And I will not let what I cannot do interfere with what I can do." -Edward Everett Hale

Everyone can do something in the fight against AIDS. Don't let the enormity of the task keep you from doing the something you can do.

Learn as much as you can, discover what you're passionate about, and throw your full weight into that passion.

• Discover which aspect of the AIDS crisis resonates with your heart. It will be different for different people, and that's okay! You may not know yet what you're passionate about in regards to fighting the AIDS pandemic. So begin by reading about the multi-faceted issues involved. Your heart will be gripped by something as you research. It might be orphan care, or medical intervention, or prevention/abstinence programs. Whatever it is, find your passion.

• Find an organization that shares your passion. Again, this may take some digging. But there are plenty of solid ministries out there targeting the various aspects of AIDS.

• Connect as much as possible with the cause/organization you believe in. The more you know and understand about their vision and strategies, the more you can be a megaphone for them.

• Interact with the organization and its team. Visit their website, comment on their blog posts, ask for specific prayer requests. Passion grows when you truly become part of something. Family members have the same blood in their veins. Join the family. Get the vision coursing through you till you bleed it.

• Use your voice and influence to promote the cause you believe in. You can do that through blog posts, sidebar widgets, twitter updates, and personal conversations. You could commit to a monthly megaphone day on your blog where you highlight different aspects of what’s being done, what the needs are, and opportunities for others to get involved.

• Be passionate about it. Anyone can plug something, but passion is unmistakable. People will know how much you really believe in what you’re saying.

• Pray. Prayer really does change things.

• Contribute financially to support the work that's being done.

• Get off your "but" and go. Drop the excuses and go see for yourself. Travel overseas to not only see the work in action but to participate in it. The best advocates are those who’ve been involved. And I guarantee it will change your life forever.

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

What are you currently doing to help in the fight against AIDS? What are you going to start doing? What other suggestions do you have for ways people can get involved?

you CAN do something

AIDS is a reality you don’t have the luxury to ignore.

Bono wrote in his book On the Move---

6,500 Africans are still dying every day of a preventable, treatable disease, for lack of drugs we can buy at any drugstore. This is not about charity; this is about justice and equality.

Because there’s no way we can look at what’s happening in Africa and, if we’re honest, conclude that deep down, we really accept that Africans are equal to us. Anywhere else in the world, we wouldn’t accept it. Look at what happened in Southeast Asia with the tsunami. 150,000 lives lost to that misnomer of all misnomers, “mother nature.” In Africa 150,000 lives are lost every month. A tsunami every month. And it’s a completely avoidable catastrophe.

There is a continent—Africa—being consumed by flames.I truly believe that when the history books are written, our age will be remembered for three things: the war on terror, the digital revolution, and what we did---or did not do---to put the fire out in Africa.

History, like God, is watching what we do.

Don’t close your eyes or turn your head away. People are dying for you to do something.

What will you do to learn more about the AIDS crisis? What will you do with what you know?

something is stirring

On Sunday, Mma Impo received word that her father passed away. She and her daughter were planning to leave Botswana later that day to come to Qwa Qwa, South Africa to attend our women's conference. The news that her father passed away shook her, but did not deter her. Her daughter arrived, assuming they would have to cancel their plans and go to their home village to make funeral arrangements. "No," Mma Impo said. "Going to Mahalapye will not bring him back. God comes first. We are going to Qwa Qwa. God has something for us there." So they came. Their expectancy was evident. The look in their eyes said that they were expecting an encounter with God. It was visible in many others' eyes as well. The women were hungry. Eager.  And God did not disappoint. The sessions were powerful, the ministry times were sweet, and the women's lives were changed. They were challenged, inspired, encouraged, motivated, and stirred. They left with a clear vision and sincere passion to be used by God in their communities.

One of the women was visibly suffering from advanced stages of AIDS. She was emaciated to the point of skin and bones, her cheeks were sunken and sallow, her gait was strained and slow. When she came forward for prayer, I had the opportunity to minister to her. My heart broke. I began to weep as I hugged her; it felt as though I was hugging a skeleton. She pressed through her pain and discomfort to attend the conference, longing for a touch from the Lord. I believe she received one; her face, amid the suffering, radiated joy from within. Her presence at the conference also provided me a touch from the Lord, as He gripped my heart once again for this beautiful, precious woman and the countless like her who are dying across South Africa.

From Botswana to Qwa Qwa, a revolution has begun. Brace yourself. Something is stirring in Africa.

[originally posted this day three years ago. i needed the reminder.]

fight poverty with hope

Ask any little boy in America what he wants to be when he grows up and you might hear firefighter, doctor, or astronaut. Little girls will say they want to be teachers, nurses, lawyers. Though their answers differ, these children all have something in common: They can answer the question.

Ask a child in Africa what he or she wants to be when all grown up and you may be met with a blank stare. Shrugging shoulders. "I don't know." They can't comprehend the question and they don't know how to answer. They don't know, because they don't know how to dream.

I've seen the blank stares. I've watched the shoulders shrug. I've heard the "I don't know"s. Once when I asked a young boy what he wants to be when he grows up, he answered with a statement that has never left me: "I want to be alive."

Poverty kills dreams. It murders hope. It squashes every last ounce of ambition. Poverty impacts the old, but targets the young. It steals more than full bellies and healthy bodies; it suffocates the future and squanders potential.

What Africa needs---what anyone affected by poverty needs---is not a hand-out. Africa needs more than charity, more than money, more than employment opportunities. All of those are vitally important, but Africa needs something even greater. Africa needs to learn to dream again.

Next time you choose to make a donation, contribute your skills, or give of your time for someone or some organization, find a way to also instill hope, offer encouragement, shine a light at the end of their tunnel. As you spark dreams in people's hearts, you're doing the best thing you can do to eradicate poverty.

_______________________________________________ This post is part of Blog Action Day 08 - Poverty.

ange(red)

The week before Christmas, Joyce's 23-year-old brother died. He was the 5th family member she lost this year. My heart broke for her, with her, as we hugged and cried, mourning her loss and grieving for her pain. She has only one immediate family member left--her sister, whose only child died just weeks ago. Death is that real here, that ever-present. It hovers over villages like a cloud, camps out on doorsteps, knocks down doors with its persistent banging. It's unpacked its suitcase; it plans on staying a while, like an unwanted visit from a second cousin. It's the constant lump in everyone's throat; it's the hole in our pants pockets, making it impossible to hold on to anything. Or anyone. It's the uncatchable thief, stealing not only breath from lungs, but dreams from hearts. It's the elusive serial killer, taking not only lives, but futures. It's the brutal rapist, destroying not only innocence, but untapped potential.

Africa is dying inside. Slowly, yet quickly, in the paradoxical way that AIDS seems to take its time, prolonging misery, pain, and grief, while it rushes in with swift, sweeping force.

Don't look the other way.

Don't look the other way.

so they say

Bono, in his book On the Move, casts one of the most compelling visions I've ever heard for the cause of eradicating AIDS in Africa. He says what I've been unable to find adequate words for. Here's a glimpse.

God is in the slums, in the cardboard boxes where the poor play house. God is in the silence of a mother who has infected her child with a virus that will end both their lives. God is in the cries heard under the rubble of war. God is in the debris of wasted opportunity and lives, and God is with us if we are with them.

6,500 Africans are still dying every day of a preventable, treatable disease, for lack of drugs we can buy at any drugstore. This is not about charity; this is about justice and equality.

Because there's no way we can look at what's happening in Africa and, if we're honest, conclude that deep down, we really accept that Africans are equal to us. Anywhere else in the world, we wouldn't accept it. Look at what happened in Southeast Asia with the tsunami. 150,000 lives lost to that misnomer of all misnomers, "mother nature." In Africa 150,000 lives are lost every month. A tsunami every month. And it's a completely avoidable catastrophe.

There is a continent---Africa---being consumed by flames.

I truly believe that when the history books are written, our age will be remembered for three things: the war on terror, the digital revolution, and what we did--or did not do--to put the fire out in Africa.

History, like God, is watching what we do.

nine years

Nine years ago, this past Saturday, I arrived in South Africa. Hopeful. Excited. Passionate. If I am to be honest, also a little scared. Intimidated. Unsure.

I knew I was called to Africa, but that was possibly all that I knew. I didn't know what I should be doing. Or what my specific "calling" was. Or what it would all look like. I just followed. "Here I am, Lord. Send me."

Niel and I have been reminiscing back to our "early days" a lot lately. Things have changed so much in the past nine years. I have changed so much. I still feel like I don't know what I'm doing and I still wonder what it all will look like. And while I don't fully grasp my "calling" -- that which I was born to do -- I know I am walking in it.

In many ways, I feel light-years beyond that young girl who stepped off the plane nine years ago. Yet in many ways, I am still the same. If I'm honest, I'm still a little scared. Intimidated. Unsure. Scared of messing up, of missing the mark, of not being or doing all I'm supposed to. Intimidated by responsibility, by the demands of a growing staff, by the unfinished task. Unsure of myself, of how to do all I must, of what the future will hold.

But I'm also still hopeful. Excited. Passionate. Hopeful that the mark I leave in Africa will change it for the better, that the lives we touch will transform this nation, that our work will truly turn the tide of the AIDS pandemic. Excited by all that has been accomplished, by the lives we have seen changed by the Word of God, by what lies ahead. Passionate about the potential in the African people, about seeing the nations come to Christ, about Africa...

Nine years. And yet just the beginning...

something is stirring

On Sunday, Mma Impo received word that her father passed away. She and her daughter were planning to leave Botswana later that day to come to Harrismith, South Africa to attend our women's conference. The news that her father passed away shook her, but did not deter her. Her daughter arrived, assuming they would have to cancel their plans and rather go to their home village to make funeral arrangements. "No," Mma Impo said. "Going to Mahalapye will not bring him back. God comes first. We are going to Harrismith. God has something for us there." So they came. Their expectancy was evident. The look in their eyes told you they were expecting an encounter with God. It was visible in many others' eyes as well. The women were hungry. Eager. Expectant. And God did not disappoint. The sessions were powerful, the ministry times were sweet, and the women's lives were changed. They were challenged, inspired, encouraged, motivated, and stirred. They left with a clear vision and sincere passion to be used by God in their communities.

One of the women was clearly suffering from advanced stages of AIDS. She was emaciated to the point of skin and bones, her cheeks were sunken and sallow, her gait was strained and slow. When she came forward for prayer, I had the opportunity to minister to her. My heart broke. I began to weep as I hugged her; it felt as though I was hugging a skeleton. She pressed through her pain and discomfort to attend the conference, longing for a touch from the Lord. I believe she received one; her face, amidst the suffering, radiated joy from within. Her presence at the conference also provided me a touch from the Lord, as He gripped my heart once again for this beautiful, precious woman and the countless like her who are dying across South Africa.

From Qwa Qwa to Botswana, a revolution has begun. Brace yourself. Something is stirring in Africa.

When You See a Missionary...

I don't know who made this statement, but I find it to ring true in my own life...

"Remember, when you see a missionary coming home broken in body and weary in soul, it isn't the privations or dangers or things he's done that leave a deep hurt; it's the things he couldn't do that break his heart."

I am often overwhelmed by all that is left to be done. I'm not talking just about the things on my daily to-do lists that I don't seem to have enough time to accomplish (although that is a daily occurrence). I'm not even talking about my email inbox that seems to hover at about 100 emails still to be answered, even when I try my hardest to stay on top of correspondence. I'm talking about the overwhelming sense of the unfinished task that lies before me.

The vision God has given us, the passion He has emblazoned in my heart to see Africa transformed, is much larger and more encompassing than what we are doing now. I feel as though we are only barely scratching the surface of what we could, and should, be doing and what we are called to do. I understand that it's a journey, a process. I also can look back and see how far we have come (and it sure is a long way!). But I also get frustrated as I try to keep my head above water with what is on my plate now while also longing to be doing so much more.

The needs are so great. I look around me and can almost tangibly feel the hopelessness and despair that seems to reside in Qwa Qwa. Week after week, I learn about someone who has passed away--someone who is related to someone I know or connected to our ministry in some way. Death is a startling daily reality in Africa.

The things I can't yet do are the things that break my heart. They weigh heavy on me...

The harvest truly is plentiful...