Blood, Sweat and Tears

Harvest School 25 is now finished and I have the certificate with some impressive signatures and of course I got the T shirt too - a bright yellow XXXL with the inspiring words "Love looks like Something". What was the bloody point some might ask - taking nearly ten weeks off work and going off to a place to live on rice and beans and take a few photos. How can one begin to describe such a personal life event - these words blood, sweat and tears came to mind.

Blood as in when you finally kill that annoying mosquito in your room and then it occurs to you that the very blood on your hands is probably yours. Blood as in the realisation that that what happened at the Cross is, was and always will be the whole bloody point - it may sound crass and crude but it is the inescapable Truth of the whole Redemption Story - The Most Beautiful Love Story. I saw the Jesus film a few times in Mozambique and this time noticed how tame the crucifixion scene is portrayed - in reality His appearance was so disfigured beyond that of any human being and His form marred beyond human likeness.

Sweat as in Pemba, Mozambique was hot and humid with some rain and often a stiff breeze but most of the time we all had this glowing new countenance. There were sticky situations of the clammy kind and then there were those of enduring kind although we had it good with minimal interruptions of electricity and water. The tough times included those inner struggles - those recurring ones and then the shocking Truth that strips away the layered veneer of lies exposing your new vulnerable identity - the real you. It was difficult to comprehend the poverty and lack with the subsequent redistribution battle amidst huge cultural differences. Then there were those hard times when your erroneous ways come to the Light - when you see your real motives and when He corrects you and shows you His way. 

A Mozambican great grandmama

Tears as in those of Joy and those of Brokenness. Those times when you come undone, when He wrecks your heart and that word that Bishop Garlington refers to as "mucous", flows freely - yet you don't care a hoot. Up until three weeks before the end of school I was doing okay - there were tender times but nothing like the one Sunday church service where the floodgates opened - what exactly happened I don't know - yet it did feel like open heart surgery had taken place with some anaesthesia I suspect. In all of this there were tears of sheer gratitude and I think of that precious hymn that is a favourite of mine since childhood - Turn your eyes upon Jesus

Turn your eyes upon Jesus
Look full in His wonderful face
And the things of earth will grow strangely dim
In the light of His glory and grace

The Mieze Tree