“Welcome to Jos”

An eery silence enveloped the campus, engulfing it as a fog does a wandering comrade. Not a soul in sight– a foreign experience for the Monday after-school hours. A campus typically teaming with teenage melodrama and school children’s folly found itself in a muted stupor.

Inside, silence. Outside… Well, outside… uproar.

Or, more accurately, trouble.

I am beginning to learn the lingo of this place, came the realization as I strolled back through our deserted Hillcrest campus. Trouble. Crisis. Wahala. Words all too familiar to the local J-town native.

Just an hour before, I stood guard at the door of the high school English room. Each of the 30 members of my junior class stood inside, awaiting the arrival of their parents or drivers. All after-school activities were cancelled. Trouble had descended upon Jos.

To those familiar with the ways of J-town life, this came as no real surprise. For the following day was an important Muslim holiday, the end of the Ramadan fast. And the Christians, well, they sought revenge. Revenge for transgressions committed on their sacred holiday last Christmas. Violence for violence.

During my fourth hour class earlier that day, we could hear shouting from the streets. Stopping to listen, one of my students remarked sarcastically that it “must be riots.” Later that day, after news from outside the compound had leaked in, as I stood watch at the door of that high school English classroom, she approached me again:  “Ms. DeJong, it seems I was right...”

Yes, she had been. If the subsequent military helicopters flying overhead had not been enough of an indicator, reports of trouble across town proved the veracity of her sarcasm. Later, I sat in my apartment, faced with a picture of the devastation…

Trouble had descended. Violence begetting more violence. There is no peaceful end to such cyclical warfare.

Sorrowful laughter never fails to arise when the slogan of Plateau State is playfully brought to light:  ”The Home of Peace and Tourism.”  Oh that one day it may again be so.

And then, a few days later, normalcy resumed. Well, the J-town version of normalcy, at least… School opened again after a week long ‘vacation,’ and people began to move about more freely.

“Welcome to the joys of Jos-living,” a new friend proclaimed. “Are you scared?”

In honesty, I replied, fear has not once crossed my heart. Not once have I felt threatened or in danger. One, because it’s not as bad as I know it could be. But ultimately, because our God has made it painstakingly clear that this is where I am to be. So why should I fear? Such peace must be attributed to his ever-abounding grace.

And though the troubles of this place may still bring me to my knees, there is a simultaneous beauty I cannot forsake. In the hustle and bustle of the marketplace, in the dancing through the aisles of an entire congregation during worship on Sunday, in the gentle face of the old security guard attempting to teach me his native language… How quickly I am falling in love.

And how eager I am to experience what the Lord has already set in motion for my time here, however long that may be.

 

Come fly with me…

Today, I move 6000 miles. Today, I enter a new stage of life. Today, I pursue this new work the Lord has undeniably set before me.

In 2 days, I will arrive at my final destination:  Hillcrest School in Jos, Nigeria. To teach, to counsel, to learn, to testify, to live and love.

But ultimately, to glorify His Name.

I have one prayer for these next few years (however many years the Lord may call me to Western Africa):  that the glory would be to Him, and Him alone.

To Him, and Him alone. 

But we were made for community. We were created as a Body of believers. And though I am leaving the physical presence of this community, entering into one still new and unknown, I cannot do this alone. To my friends of faith, I seek your prayers. I seek your support through spiritual intercession. I cannot do this alone.

I will do my best to keep you updated along the way, to allow you a window into the new world the Lord will be showing me through these coming months. And I would love to hear from you along the way as well.

“Look at the nations and watch–and be utterly amazed. For I am going to do something in your days that you would not believe, even if you were told.” 

(Habakkuk 1:5)

Amen. Let it be so.

Sweet affirmation

One week, people. One week, and I will be sailing somewhere over the Atlantic, enroute to a new life in Western Africa.

Not quite sure how we got here so quickly, but we are here all the same.

As some of you know, this new position as a missionary teacher in Nigeria has come about quite suddenly. Just four weeks ago, I sat in the booth of an Indiana Red Lobster, as the course of my life was altered. Since then, it has been a rat race of visa applications, immunizations, orientations, letter writing, packing, list making, question asking, last goodbyes, etc., etc. Insanity. But praise be to Him, for the sense of peace I have received in and through this process has been nothing short of a work of His hands.

Case in point:

I have to raise a hefty sum of money to support this ministry for the next year. And only just this past Thursday was I able to begin fund-raising (long story..). That’s 10 days before my scheduled departure. Pure insanity. So, Friday the support letters were sent out to family and friends. Today, Sunday, I sat in the family room running through the details of my budget, calculating out how much I would need to raise during each month of service for the next year. Just as I was beginning to reach the tailspin of an inward freakout, I heard a gasp from my mother in the kitchen. She was staring at her phone, reading a text from a family friend, tears rolling down her cheeks. For these family friends were sending word that they would be supporting me with 1/5 of the funds I need to raise. Tears welled within these eyes as well…

…because no one, but the Lord, knew that at that very moment I was beginning the rapid descent into an internal tailspin of despair and doubt regarding the financial details of this new venture. And at that very moment, the Lord swept in with sweet affirmation. What could I have ever done to receive such grace.

Sweet affirmation indeed. His hand has been all over this from the start. May I continue to live into full surrender.

And on another note, my brother Andrew is home from Afghanistan, as of just two days ago. Here’s to one week with the DeJong family all on the same continent, under the same roof.

And tomorrow, Andrew and I will jump out of a plane together. Here’s to skydiving with a sorely missed sibling.

Peace, friends.