Hide and Speak

Hey, stop reading my journal!

Ok fine… I posted it. PLEASE read it.

I’m inviting you in to my conversation with God today.

I’m asking You to do this with me and be accountable in my life and your own for what I’m praying for. Here we go...

Sometimes I feel like a child.

Like my faith is completely lacking. Like I don’t believe in what You say and what You’ll do. You even tell other people who speak truth and wisdom to me, and I’m still afraid.

But that’s not a child at all. You told us to be more like children. Because they believe without question. They expect the biggest, the boldest and the best…. Until something breaks.

It’s that moment of realizing your parents aren’t perfect. Or when it suddenly becomes about something more than you. It’s when you realize you may not be completely safe or completely protected all the time. Bad things really can happen.

That’s when doubt creeps in. That’s when we realize we’re naked before that one bite of rotten fruit even digested.

Exposed without protection from the elements. Vulnerable with no promise of security on earth.

That’s when, instead of thinking about rainbow-sized promises and the infinite majesties of the Creator, we start thinking of the ways we don’t measure up and start reaching for an invisibility cloak rather than the belt of truth, the breastplate of righteousness, the helmet of salvation, the shield of faith and the sword of the spirit (Ephesians 6:10-17).  

At least that’s what I do.

Hiding in the bushes while You’re walking through the garden looking for me.

You know where I am. Yet You’re calling out to me, longing for me to come to You. You knew all of me before I did. Why do I feel like I have to hide?

Shadows, bushes and valleys.

Or light, gardens and mountaintops.

Wherever we are, You’re still calling out.

The only thing that ever stays the same is You.

I’m in Africa. That’s on purpose. You said to come.

I don’t want to hide in the bushes while I’m here. (There are snakes!)

You’ve said over and over again that this is a year for Truth and Promises. It’s a year to speak them out wherever I am, to live by them and to believe in them more than I believe in all that rotten fruit, nudey pants stuff.

I do. And I will.

You’ve also said it’s necessary this year… in a this-might-hurt kind of way. You have big plans to expand my ministry. I don’t want to be the one who limits You. You don’t need me to do Your work, and it’s an honor to be invited into the story of Your Glory.

I believe in You. I believe in what You say.

I know You and You know me.

The only hiding I want to do is when You call me to come away for a Beloved getaway with My Maker.

I need help. I need MORE of You. Speak Your Truths and Promises to me, and I will speak them out wherever I go.

I promise.

There you have it, friends and family… Truth and Promises Year

It’s a lofty calling, not as exciting and cheerleader-ish as it sounds.

In fact… Can we start this now?

If you’re reading this now (ahem… you are), if a Truth or a Promise came to mind, or if God has spoken one to you lately… or ever… post it as a comment on my blog.

Let’s start speaking out His Truth now. Let’s proclaim His Promises and see how it feels to brag about Who He Is. Let’s set our sites on The Way, The Truth and The Life and we won’t be able to stay hidden. We’ll be those kids in the hide-and-seek game who run out to find the seeker because it feels so good to be found. To be known. To be in the light instead of the dark.

Let’s do it.

Start now.

Sleepless in South Africa... We're back.

I’m back in Africa!

I’ve never been so happy to be here in my perfect cottage, set right in the middle of my African family, their homes and the Ten Thousand Homes base. 

It’s never felt so good – or  been so exciting! - to ride down that bumpy dirt road on Plot 177, Plaston Road.

Thank you for your prayers as we traveled back. Carly B and I arrived safely (and slightly delirious) after two days of traveling. We felt your prayers and God’s provision all the way. We even had the row to ourselves on both flights!

And not to worry everyone – Carly B is already getting the full picture of life in South Africa. And I’m having my first “Welcome Home” experience here.

Let’s paint a picture, shall we? Please, get another cup of coffee… or whatever it is you’re drinking. You’re going to love this.

Keri Dodge and Lynn picked us up from the airport, we loaded up our 2 bajillion pounds of luggage, stocked up on water and electrolytes and headed out for the breathtakingly beautiful four-hour road trip.

I think this picture-painting will switch to a list format so we can have a numerical account of life as we know it… back in Africa!

1. We pulled into the driveway to find the ultimate welcome – Carla Shaw demonstrating the body roll. Nothing says welcome home like the body roll.

2. HUGS all around… and those beautiful Price children to kiss and kiss and kiss!

3. Cottage time! Carly B opens the door to find a “Welcome Home Carly B” sign posted and I’m dancing around when I see that Zach installed my new ceiling fan while I was gone.

4. Then…. Cue dramatic music.

5. We find out that the fridge got turned off somehow during the last two months and my condiment and butter supply turned into a mold farm.

6. This is about when the gagging started.

7. And then we hear the story of the dead mouse. But don’t worry, he didn’t die from starvation.

8. We decide to bypass the smell of mold and dead rodent for ladies night at Lynn’s house. After all, it’s rude to miss ladies night. And there are TWO new families living on base since I left. New ladies to get to know.

9. A home-cooked meal, good laughs, tasty snacks and delicious muffins with incredible ladies under the perfect starry night. Ahhh, redemption.

10. And, oh yeah, we had to show Lindsey the body roll.

11. After all the excitement, the sleepy travelers needed ni-night time… Alas! We’ve locked ourselves out of Lynn’s! We won’t go into details, but there was one Carly B leg and one Carla Shaw leg sticking through burglar bars… and a Keri Dodge climbing a balcony. We’re dealing with large rocky surfaces and moonlight only, people. Carla keeps finding new bruises and Carly B chipped her bright orange toenail polish. Life’s not always as glamorous as you might think here.

12. After one more forgetting-my-keys incident, we make it home safe and sound and are more than ready for a good-ish, jet-laggish night of sleep.

And now we’re in the present-tense… Day 1 in Africa.

Forgive me for not blogging instantly upon arrival, but maybe we should just start another list to fill you in on what today was like.

1. We “slept in”. (You can’t really sleep in here.)

2. Carly B puts on my paint pants and I’m still in the clothes I slept in… it’s go-time.

3. Refrigerator mold. Rat poop. Here we come!

4. Bonus round: a new ninja frog family.

5. There was girly screaming, giggling and a lot of sweaty cleaning.

6. Welcome to Africa, Carly B!
7. The highlights of the day, believe it or not, were not the frogs or the excessive bleaching (if I wasn’t white before, I am now!). It was the visitors!

8. We had visitors all throughout the day, catching us up on life, giving hugs and kisses (those were mostly from the small children), and helping us with some of the more rancid projects.

9. I might have gone to crazy-town once or twice.

10. But it felt like family.

So… there you have it. A look at a homecoming and an initiation. We’re not holding anything back! Carly B just finished an erratically-tempered shower and we’re ready to make dinner in my deeply-cleaned kitchen.

Please keep praying as I adjust back to my normal. Back to daily life. Back to home.

Although some of the parts feel so right, there are so many new and different parts. New families on base. New parts of me that I experienced through God and you while in the States. A new roommate (for a month) in the cottage. New teams coming next week. And a new year with new plans God has set in place already – plans for family, plans for Lifa and plans for speaking out His Truth and Promises.

I need your prayers. And I’m delighted to share everything from the day’s play-by-play to the deepest ways God is stirring in me and in Africa as we join together as family to bring the Kingdom to earth… Home on earth.

Thanks for being part of my Home on earth.

I love you and Welcome Home!

Happy Africa Day!!!

Homeward Bound!

I'm sitting on the floor of Intercontinental Airport in Houston with Carly B, counting down the minutes until Flight EK212 takes off! (94 minutes)

Look how excited we are!

We will leave Houston at 6:25pm for a 14 hour 40 minute flight to Dubai. We'll arrive around 9am Houston time. 

We have a layover in Dubai and will leave Dubai at 4:40am Dubai time/6:40pm Tuesday Houston time for an 8 hour 10 minute flight to Joburg, South Africa. 

We will arrive in South Africa at 10:50am South African time/2:50am Wednesday morning Houston time.

We'll be cross-eyed (I speak for myself) and ready to hug Keri Dodge who is picking us up to take us HOME to Ten Thousand Homes!

Please pray for us as we travel. 

Pray for health, safety and that ALL of our luggage makes it safely!

Updates to come! And.. I miss you already!

Journey Through the Knowns and Unknowns

I’ve been on an indescribable journey in the past two months…

Hopping hemispheres, crossing causeways, passing through peninsulas, sharing stories, and moments and meals with the most meaningful people.

The journey has been more than miles, more than meals, and more than any measure of alliteration could suffice for. I’ve shared my story over and over again, and have been surprised almost every time I open my mouth and hear God put HIS two cents in.

This week I am on a personal retreat- exchanging the speed of American life for island time. Just like last year, Shelley at the Hilton Galveston Island Resort gave me grace, a great deal and a warm welcome to stay for two nights right here on the seawall to take in the arctic breeze, salty scenery and rest in His inescapable beauty and presence on this island. She even remembered me and let me bring out all the Lifa pictures she could stand! (He’s invited next year.)

Yes. King-sized. You don't even have to get up to see the Gulf.

Pretty sure He picked these for me.

Monday evening, I’ll be settling down into seat K21 and starting a two-day journey back to Africa! FIVE DAYS TO GO!!! (but who’s counting?)

This time I’m going with a different perspective.

This time I’m going home.

This time I’m saying goodbye to my family and my friends to go back to my family and my friends.

This time I’m leaving my church home to go back to my church home.

This time I’m not making small talk on an airplane with strangers as we set out for a 5-month mission trip together (love you Bekah and Brittany!) but am going back home with Carly B, a part of my everyday life, whether we’re on the same continent or not.

In some ways it’s going to be more comfortable. Fewer uncertainties about details, faces and culture.

In some ways, it’s going to be so much more uncomfortable. The kind of uncomfortable that comes with walking in the Kingdom culture as you weave in and out of earthly cultures. The kind of uncomfortable that comes with knowing that God’s got a lot to say in the unknown… and embracing unknowing in a run-and-jump-with-two-feet kind of way that trusts He’s handling the landing. Like not flinching on the trust fall.

I’m saying a more permanent goodbye to the details, faces and culture that shaped me. I’m saying ok to God guiding me in the unknown now that, after one of my least graceful years yet, I’ve come to terms with some of the basic knowns:

I know where I’m supposed to live for now.

I know some of the basics in how to maneuver through life in South Africa.

I know that a little boy named Lifa is family.

I know that I get to have a voice about family in Lifa’s community, Mbonisweni.

I know that God has a big plan that He’s inviting me to be a part of, if I stop trying to figure out all the little “knowns” and let him be the Known in the unknowns.

Letting God do the big picture and the details, while living in a foreign country and being surrounded by nothing that really ever makes sense comes with feeling blind… or at least like I have tunnel vision. (Ok, so I do.)

But He, the Known, reminded me on this retreat about all the “known” encounters I’ve had with Him and that’s He’s never forsaken me. 

In fact, in every event and encounter, He only shows me He knows me more. 

See....

He gave me sweet time with the most important 7 year-old in my life to remind me that I'm known beyond age and time zones. 

Extra special bonding with my best friend, Morgan. We got to watch each other do our thing and have a unique ministry experience together.

Revisiting a very special school, an incredible group of kids and remembering stories of hope and restoration.

So many perfect coffee shop moments in the perfect chairs.

A happy NaNa!

Walking through Seattle with women from all walks of life. Who know me wherever I am.

Sweet cups of tea with sweet conversation.

And perfect story when I just needed a break from life.

Family time with the my best friends, whose new community welcomed me in as family.

Ferry rides. Beach time. It's where me and Jesus meet. 

Lifa Update!

I finally have news to share!

Thank you for your ceaseless prayers, for checking in on me, for loving Lifa so perfectly and for walking through this trip to the States with me. I've received love, home, encouragement and home in all shapes and sizes in the past 1 1/2 months.

In mid-December I shared a very up-close and personal prayer request with you about the three-year old nearest and dearest to my heart. For those of you who are just tuning in, if I've been within a 1/2 mile radius of you, you've probably heard me talk about Lifa.

For the full-story, check out my archives. In October, I started a six-part series to tell the story of how I learned family in my new home. I don't think I realize how much mine and Lifa's story shaped me and has taught me a deeper love than I knew I was capable of until recently.

Lifa's biological father picked him up right after I left South Africa. He virtually fell off the radar and I didn't know if he was safe or if I'd see him again.

I'm relieved to report that my friend and brother Stanley, who also works with Ten Thousand Homes in South Africa, talked to Lifa's father last week. Finally, communication after a month and a half of silence! Stan said his father would bring him home at the end of January. He even promised to keep calling and make sure we have nothing to worry about. Best brother EVER!

After a month of ceaseless prayer, more worry and sleeplessness than I care to admit, some yelling on a beach, and A LOT of story-sharing, I find myself stuttering and stumbling over "that girl" prayers.

God, do you REALLY want me to be that girl who jumps in with two feet into loving and caring for a little boy? A little boy who speaks a different language, was abandoned so early, has a mystery dad popping in and out, and who I believe You've called Your Greatness? 

Yes. 

The truth is it hurts to love him this deeply. And I won't ever stop.


As I've shared his story and the ways God is using "the least of these" to turn his entire community's head and heart toward family, God is showing me His Sovereignty and a plan that was too big for me to see in daily life in South Africa. Taking a step away has helped me see His big hand on that small hand and given me perspective. The Big Picture is far too big and too beautiful for me to see with this tunnel vision.

As Lifa's eyes have gone from dull and lifeless to bright and full of Light in the past year, the faces of Mbonisweni's eyes are opening to the Truth of the love of The Great Adopter and Perfect Father.

Thank you for praying this through with me. Keep the prayers coming as I still don't know what kind of environment Lifa is in right now or if his father will stay true to his word. And I don't know what his eyes will look like when I see him again. I'm relieved to know we've contacted his dad. And I'm honored to be a part of his story, even just the small part I've played so far.

You can see what God's love and your prayers have done in one perfect little life in comparing two photos just a few months apart. Look at those perfect eyes...

August 2010

Novermber 2010

Thank you for being a part of our story.

Stepping in Sanboxes

Faith... It's like growing up.

We start out in the backyard with a fence. It’s safe to play in the fence. You can go allllll the way to the back of the yard, up the tree, and even bury your little sister in the sandbox without causing Mom to blink twice. You’re completely free to play – and to play with gusto – in a safe space.

Once you learn how to play well, how to give it all you got, you want more. More life. More playing. You want to taste more of the great outdoors… and preferably with the independence of no parental discretion.

So you gradate to the freedom of two wheels and handlebars to be let loose in the neighborhood… or the back roads of Alvin, Texas. (There was gum to be purchased and a slew of people in a 2 mile radius… scrunchi, don’t fail me now!)

But you can only get so street-smart on those two wheels. (The big ditch had been mastered and the cows didn’t try to mess with me anymore.) The next step was two more tires, a steering wheel, and a lot more freedom.

But this freedom came with responsibility. There was a gas tank to be filled and that little sister had somehow got traveling rights early. For that kind of freedom, though, working and chauffeuring was worth it.

Let's be honest. These children are MUCH less awkward illustrations of the actual Kacy Chaffin stages of development)

Next, the floodgates fly open further when the possibility of leaving Alvin, Texas comes onto the radar. The freedom to choose a course of study, a new city, how to live… And to be known how you want to be known by who you want to be known by. Now there are academic, financial, social, and a million other types of responsibilities. And HOW important is it to separate laundry by color, again?

All of the to-do’s, the scary’s, the unknowns… worth it. To be able to discover, explore and understand who you are more is always worth it. It’s the great human itch.

What does this have to do with faith? 

That pursuit of freedom.

That drive to go deeper into Truth and understanding… the explorer in all of us.

The very essence of what leaves us miserably discontented and mortified with being an adult playing in the well-monitored confinement of the backyard sandbox.

We’re a bunch of imperfect humans designed for unbroken intimacy with a Perfect God. We’re not there yet, and we won’t be on this earth… Thus explains the inescapable strife and striving for the next leap into what we may not really understand, but we know is worth it.

Deeper and deeper intimacy. Being known more and more. We’re exploring, leaping, running, trying to get there.

I want to know who God is and who He made me to be all the way.

I don’t want to hang out in the kiddie park of Heaven… the ball pit just before the pearly gates.

I want to jump with two feet into the freedom that has no white picket perimeter.

It’s a freedom that I can’t see. And a freedom where I have no choice but to trust that I am so deeply and so intimately known by my Creator, my Father, my Fortress. And, when I’m trusting in that freedom, I can run fast, far and with abandon. Probably screaming, squealing and cartwheeling along the way.

Maybe not always cartwheeling though.

Because here’s the thing…

When you’re not in the sandbox and Mom’s not calling you in for dinner, sometimes the darkness sneaks up on you. And it’s hard to find the Light from Home.

When you run hard and fast and with abandon, you sometimes trip and fall.

Or sometimes feel like you made a wrong turn.

Or wonder what you were thinking... should I have stayed for lasagna night at Mom’s house?

But once you’ve tasted that freedom, could you ever turn back?
Once you know, can you ever not know?

I can’t and I won’t.

And for some reason, it’s hitting me as a new revelation today that the more I know and the further I go, the more freedom and responsibility I face. We don’t stop running in faith until we get to heaven.

And I’m certainly not stopping at the ball pit. I’m going straight for the main attraction: My Perfectly and Intimately Loving God.

But here’s the kicker…

The freedom part has already been paid in full. We’ve already been given full rights, a full voice and the capacity for full and abundant love. Some of us just decide to camp out in the safety of the sandbox.

Forget Mom’s lasagna, people.

Taste and see that the Lord is good! (Psalm 34)

Freedom is the undeserved gift from Perfect Love.

Jesus came. Jesus died. And Jesus came back to set you free. To give you full rights to be known and to know God all the way. As deep as you want to belong, to be delighted in and to be known by Him… He wants to meet you there and go deeper.

I feel like I’m bracing myself for a jump out of the big tree that overlooks the unknown, unventured part of my faith and His plan for me. I’m ready to jump with both feet and have no idea how I’m going to land. Or what it’s going to look like in the next days, weeks, months or years.

I suppose I don’t need to know that part though.

I just need to worship and offer my feet and my faith, and run into that freedom like I never have before.

Please pray for me in the journey.

Ummm... and I can’t sign off without confessing, that if anyone every buried anyone in a sandbox, my little sister totally would have buried me! (Had to keep it real, sesi)

Deserts and Daily Bread

I LOVE worshipping with my American church family, Bay Area Community Church in League City, Texas. Singing familiar songs, in a familiar language, with familiar faces. Mmmhmmm.

The words felt different this past Sunday, though. Instead of giddy, giggling, overflowing worship in the back with my friends, I found a corner and felt it so differently.

As I held my arms up and sang, "I will follow you..." I didn't feel bowed up, like a soldier in armor going to battle. I didn't feel a surge of powerful jubilation or enthusiasm in following my God.

I felt a lot more like an Israelite in the desert, somewhere in the smoldering, confusing and undefinable abyss between slavery under the law and the Promised Land. (For all the details, check out Exodus. They start walking at the end of chapter 12.)

You see, the Israelites didn't have a map or a timeline or a planner. They started in Egypt, so you'd think they would have been accustomed to "African time", but we're talking 40 years of hiking through a desert to a place we've never known and having no tangible proof of its existence.

If you've never heard the story, brace yourself. Not only were they following an insecure, stuttering guy with a recent identity crisis, but their guide was a pillar of cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night (not kidding, see Exodus 13:17-22). When the cloud moved, they moved. When it stopped they stopped. Every day they woke up to morning shower of just enough food for that day (Exodus 16-17:7).

Tomorrow would bring what tomorrow would bring - new food and cloud chasing.

When they said, "I will follow you..." from that desert, I bet it felt different too.

Hard to swallow. Uncomfortable. Sometimes even angry.

I get that it's a beautiful image and makes for great Sunday School crafts. The very best of Lifetime movie marathons couldn't come close to the power and emotion in this story.

But when you actually live in that desert...
When you're following a cloud zig-zagging between the place that was hard to live in but at least made sense and the place you were created for but you've never known...
When you wake up each morning hoping for your daily bread...
When that tent starts to feel small and your feet have blisters....

"I will follow you..." feels different.

As different as it felt this Sunday, I think I meant it more than ever. Not because I'm oozing with extra holiness or because I just got my halo shined. (Trust me, I'm experiencing more excess in queso than holiness... and I don't think they even make halos in my size.)

I meant it more than ever because I have no other choice.

I have no idea what I'm doing.
I have no idea what life is going to look like when I get back to Africa on February 9th.
I have no idea where Lifa is or what God has planned for us. Or how to do that.
I have no idea how to be a visitor to my home country and go home to a foreign country.
I have no idea where my daily bread is going to come from.

But there is a lot to be confident about in this faith based on what we can't see. There are promises, miracles, provision and the very thickness of His Presence.

And then there's my story. 
Undeserved grace flowing through immeasurable depth in relationships. 
A front row seat to the unveiling of God's glory in families all around the world and coming back for Christmas with the families who taught it all to me, sent me off, and then welcomed me home with even more love than before. 
People joining in a movement together as a body and as a family. 

So, Jesus, "I will follow you..."
You write stories so much better than I do.

And to you, my Home people, reading this and knowing me in this journey...
Will you pray for me? He didn't send one Israelite on the journey. He sent the whole family. He didn't even make Moses lead alone. His brother came alongside him.

As we sing together, "I will follow you..." will you pray for what that is supposed to look like on the rest of my Stateside journey? I have one month to follow Him through America, sharing stories and getting prepared for the upcoming year in Africa. I'm asking you to share stories with me and pray for a support team, or a family, to step up and help me financially on this journey. I have no idea how to do this and need your prayers.

And I'm praying with you that you find the parts in your daily life that feel different because you really mean them. Where in your journey do you FEEL it when you say, "I will follow you..." We are all called to be on this journey. We were all designed for the ultimate Promised Land. We're gonna have an awesome party when we get there!

In the meantime, pray for me and I'll pray for you. We'll follow him together. Our deserts and daily bread  probably look different. But let's keep looking for the Promised Land.