Love Does

Words don’t usually escape me when I put them to paper. I have been struggling for days as to what I need to express publicly about the remainder of my time here in Addis.

Last week, the energy in the classroom was always palpable. The kids were so excited that at times, it could be difficult to get them to focus on their studies. But the love they choose to so freely give was a breath of fresh air. How can you turn down love so freely given? (A question I often ask in regards to Jesus). 

Fast forward to this week, and the older teenagers are quieter and more reserved while in class; the main reason is because they don’t want to make mistakes while speaking English. But the deep thoughts and beliefs that they have already established in their identity as God’s children will blow you away! We come to teach them English but they teach us so much more in return. 

These are future movers and shakers within Addis, Ethiopia and the Heavenly kingdom! I feel blessed and honored to have the opportunity to see it in action. 

Bring Love In is an organization that has so many moving parts:  Counselors to help guide these kids through traumas, widows to help raise the children in a strong Christian home, and hundreds of volunteers. The concept that Jessie and Levi came to is amazing and so well thought-out. An organization that is lead by Ethiopian Christian professionals that know the culture and can help make changes will be a ripple effect for many generations to come. 

See you at home!

A moment full of gratitude. One that was experienced sitting at the back of a van as the landscape of Ethiopia flew past beyond blurred windows. Yet my eyes in this moment weren’t focused on the myriad outside but on the rear view mirror at the front of the van. Ishy’s eyes captivated me. These beautiful brown eyes are ones full of compassion, devotion, and love. Eyes that radiate with God’s love and are a window into his humble servant heart. 

A moment full of tenderness. One that was experienced as the ever present clouds let the sun pierce through. Leaning against the window sill, I welcomed the delicate warmth against my skin, keeping my eyes closed as footsteps came from behind. I opened them to find Miki resting his elbows on the edge next to me. I do not remember the brief conversation that took place but what I do remember is the gentle gesture of his hand as he reached out and moved one strand of my hair out of my face. 

A moment full of companionship. One that was experienced as the invigorating mixture of Ethiopian spices and onions permeated the air. For close to four hours, Yeshi and I sat in the same wooden chairs around a pot of simmering Doro Wat. We began with the sun beating against our faces and eventually found ourselves enveloped in darkness. Our time was spent enjoying the simple pleasure of one another’s presence. 

Moments like these are powerful because of the One who made them. Their transformative power may never be revealed, yet we need only pray to have the eyes to see and the heart to know that God weaves Himself into each moment. He abides in the ordinary day to day; He abides in our  relationships; He abides in our hearts; He abides in the moments. 

“I’m in Ethiopia,” I keep telling myself. The first few mornings I would wake up and remind myself of that. One day when we were in the classroom teaching, I bent over to pick up a piece of trash and I said to myself, “I’m in Ethiopia picking up scraps in a classroom just like I do at home.” The task was so basic, yet so profound. How is it I find myself in a classroom teaching English to students in Ethiopia? Life is a journey, and not always an easy one

In coming to Ethiopia it is so much easier to ‘see’ and experience the brokenness than it is at home. But, are we really that much different? When looking at my own life, the reason I’m even here is because God has been able to use my brokenness to get ahold of my heart. July 18, 2016 is the day sweet freedom and total surrender entered my life. It does not come as a coincidence that God has brought me here on that date 3 years later. His timing is so perfect and he is so faithful and good. When I had no control over things going on in my life, when I was at my breaking point, when I was totally broken and had no more strength, that’s when God broke through. It took God giving me the permission to let go of control and to totally and fully put my trust in him. I now live in his freedom. I am free to love; I am free to have compassion; I am free to be who he made me to be.

So, I’m in Ethiopia. Yes, I can see the brokenness, but I can also see the beauty in the smiles and hugs of the sweet children at Bring Love In. I see the beauty in the moms as they bring us lunch and make us coffee and popcorn. I see beauty in the lives of those who work with the kids and families year round and those who so graciously host and drive us. I see beauty in the lives that are changed through the love of others. 

I’m in Ethiopia, half way around the world in a completely different culture. Our lives are so different and yet they are so the same. We are all broken people who need the love, grace, and mercy from an amazing Savior! The more broken we are, the more God’s light can shine through us.

God is at work. I saw a beautiful display of his love and forgiveness in action. Yesterday as we were getting ready for lunch, some of the students who were a part of the altercation Carl talked about returned. They had time over the weekend to process all that had happened. They came to personally apologize to the team. They began to shake our hands and say I’m sorry. The handshakes quickly turned into hugs. One of the girls began to cry. How neat to see she had been broken and that love began to break through.

God is so good. It has been such a blessing to be a small part of these children’s lives. They have so much love to give. May I be able to love others so freely.

Kelly

Darik. Say that name to me and I have mixed emotions. On one hand I feel complete and utter joy. On the other, a feeling of anxiety begins to rise. 

Joy:  Darik was explaining something to me. I can’t recall what exactly we were talking about, but he was walking me through something—an explanation probably. Once I came to the realization he wanted me to find, I jokingly retorted, “Darik! What would I do without you? I’d be so lost. Thank you for helping me.” Darik tilted his head at me and wagged his finger, “No, Jourdan, you would be lost without God.” 

I just smiled and hugged him fiercely. You are so right, child. Joy.

Anxiety:  I am sitting at a table with Sitota, Aysema, Maye, and Darik. All of them except Darik are what I would identify as emerging English learners. They have a difficult time finding words to speak, so they resort to answering in Amharic. Needless to say, I try my best to help them one-on-one; however, Darik demands all of my attention even though he is the most advanced English speaker at the table. As I help Sitota and Aysema speak and write a list of animals in English, Darik takes Sitota’s notebook and puts his in front of me, proudly displaying his list of 25 animals, 15 more than what we tasked the class to find. “Jourdan, is this correct?” Sitota erupts and there’s a heated conversation taken place in Amharic between Darik and her. I try to save the situation but there’s no going back. Similar situations like this one continued to take place at my table throughout the day. 

It was an incredibly difficult day for me. I was so frustrated with Darik for not being patient, for not letting me help his sisters with their English, because he wanted all of my attention. 

Fast forward to the next morning during our devotion. The big idea for the morning was patience and Kelly said something that stuck with me:  I think about how God is so patient with me, even after all these years. 

Patient. God is so patient with me, so why can’t I be patient with Darik? I was convicted and humbled to the core. I prayed that God would help me be more patient with Darik. I prayed that prayer so hard. 

We finally made it to the school that morning and I pulled Darik aside, “Darik, I’m sorry for not being patient with you yesterday while I was helping Sitota. I want to be able to help all of you, but I can’t. Will you forgive me?” 

Darik just smiled and said, “No problem, Jourdan. I’m sorry too. I just want to learn English.”

All he wanted was to grow in his English. He desired to learn and that’s why he wanted my undivided attention.

I could go on and unpack all that happened in my heart, but I’m going to leave these stories as they are because I believe God is at work. He is at work here in Addis through Bring Love In, and he is whispering to us in the smallest of ways. What we’re doing here matters because God is at work indeed. 

I want to tell you a story about yesterday. 

The story finishes with lightning and thunder, and four boys sitting on the marble steps looking out at the looming clouds’ edge towards the courtyard of the Safari Academy. 

The reason why I have not started at the beginning is because I do not know what it looks like for the other three boys sitting next to me. Dawit was to my left, a boy who is so exceedingly smart and intuitive but aims to please. Akele was to my right, an actor with his emotions but also superbly compassionate when he wants to be. Next to Akele was Seid, the classic silent but strong type; a powerful calm that his friends lean into and rely on. 

The beginning of their story is something that I can’t quite imagine— abandoned life at a government orphanage in an overcrowded, underloved place. 

But fast forward to yesterday afternoon, the last afternoon of our first week with the kids. A time of unwanted goodbyes looming like the clouds to be, but also the most relationally comfortable time with each other as well. 

Yet often with comfort, comes conflict. This is exactly what happened. During our lunch, while the kids of Bring Love In were playing in the classroom and the courtyard, a fight broke out between a few of them. 

My aim is not to highlight the fight or add detail to it but to explain that though this happens in all schools across the world, the aftermath is always the same: Everyone is affected, whether it is emotionally, physically, or mentally. 

It created a tension that was palpable for our last afternoon. The metaphor of the mood in the classroom to the dark clouds outside was like a fiction. 

Yet this is real. 

The tension broke with a spoken word, a thrown bin of supplies, and resulted in myself sitting with three boys outside looking internally. 

All I could say to try and provide any solace to one of the boys was an apology, and all I could do to ease any pain was to gently rub a back.  

Though this story is not for the light of heart, God revealed to me this morning in reflection that “we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” ‭‭Romans‬ ‭5:3-5‬

These boys and girls of Bring Love In have a beginning that is unimaginable to all of us except God just as the end of their story is unknown to all of us connected to Bring Love In through stories, donations or trips to Ethiopia.  I am just so proud and thankful to be in a chapter of their lives.  

The hope they have for a positive future that comes from the Holy Spirit poured into them, would have never have been without the suffering they have endured and the characteristics it has built.

Thus I sat there with those three boys on the top step, we sat and were silent. I was enamored by how Dawit could smile after such a dramatic conclusion to the day. I was impressed how Akele could take his anger and release it without aggression. I was in love with how Seid could exude his calm onto Akele and how a few softly spoken words could change his friend’s entire demeanor. But mostly I was in awe, of God’s grace towards his children.

Carl

This is my second time coming to Ethiopia. The span of time between visits has “only” been 2 years. Stepping out of the airport, the piece of my heart that had been left here, was reconnected with the remainder that I had held on to. I was once again complete.

Addis Ababa has grown and changed in so many ways since my last visit—new buildings along the airport, new light signals at some of the busiest intersections, and speed limits. However, many things remain the same: The smiles and greetings are a permanent fixture of the Ethiopian culture, the green pastures plowed by a lone farmer and his oxen, the donkeys hauling their owner’s daily water, and people moving from place to place. 

Growth. It isn’t happening just within the city of Addis; it’s also happening within the children who thrive under Bring Love In’s tutelage, structure, and love. 

As I walked through the gate of the school to greet the children and grinning from ear to ear, I stood there in complete amazement as I saw the young girls and boys I left becoming men and women. They are the future of Ethiopia and I stand in awe of all the change. 

Yesterday, we began our English camp and the growth amongst the children is exponentially greater then even just two years ago. Some of the shyness has given way, and they are more bold and courageous in the knowledge that they have learned both in their schooling and in previous English camps. 

Not only are the seasoned students doing well, but I have been excited to watch the two new kids, adopted just one month ago, begin to bloom in just two day’s time! The love they are sharing, the willingness to begin their English journey has evolved and grown in a matter of just 24 hours time. 

This is why we come. We come to push these kids to be who God had called them to be. God wants them to continue to grow and learn in a safe and loving environment so that they can in return provide a safe and loving environment in the future for future Ethiopians. They are the change that is coming. The growth of Ethiopia is just beginning and I can not wait to see God’s entire picture!

The last part of this journey of growth is within myself. I am changing. These children are changing me. God is changing me, and I can no longer be satisfied with the standard American goals. My goals and dreams may differ from yours and that’s okay! God uses the growth of each of us in unique ways. How have you grown lately? I challenge you to allow growth to happen in your life as well.

Thank you for joining us on this journey!

Saumara 

Turning the corner and walking through the door, there is trepidation. There is a hope that the love will have remained regardless of the time that has passed, but also a thread of doubt that indifference of my return waits across the threshold. Then it happens. The sound of feet running across crumbling cement ground; the arms spread wide in anticipation of the embrace to come; the loving grin that shatters all fear from the distance and time that’s separated us. Bamlak throws her arms around my neck and kisses my cheeks as we happily revel in the reunion. 

I could stay in that moment forever. To me it is a clear image of a love that is pure and unreserved. No matter the time that has passed, Bamlak welcomes me home with unfiltered joy. 

Driving home after our first day back with the beautiful kids at Bring Love In, I was struck with a realization:  Doesn’t this welcome sound like our gracious and compassionate God? That no matter how much time passes or how much we let fear consume us and lead us to believe there may be no one who cares for our return, He is the one who welcomes us home. He is there across the threshold of doubt, anger, fear, or brokenness waiting with arms open wide, ready to sprint to us, wrap us up in his embrace, and kiss our cheeks. His love is unashamed. It is always present, and it is the purest of loves. His joy at our return is unparalleled. 

All of these kids are an image of that love and my heart cannot fathom how I have been given the opportunity to experience it for the third time. It’s a love I don’t want to take for granted. 

I pray that God continues to shed light on the moments and the interactions—like this one with Bamlak—that make His love more known to us. I pray that our eyes are opened so that we may see Him more clearly on this earth. And lastly, I pray that our hearts remain rooted in the knowledge that He is overjoyed when we come home to Him, no matter how long it has been or how far we’ve distanced ourselves from his love that is waiting across the threshold. 

Elise

And just like that, we’re off. I can’t believe it. 

People keep asking how it feels to be going and if I’m going to be honest, I’m not sure I can even convey what’s going on in my mind and my heart. There’s so much anxiety and anticipation stirring within. I’m anxious about our travels and anxious to see the kids of Bring Love In. They are two totally different feelings of anxiety, but they are synchronizing into this beautiful feeling of anticipation. It’s funny, because I’ve been before. If I close my eyes and really focus, I can find myself in the courtyard of the school during lunch time; I can hear the laughs and the random shouts in Amharic. I can feel Kalkidan grab my hand and usher me over with her sweet accented, “Jour-Dahn, come!” 

Not only am I excited to see the kids of BLI, but I’m so incredibly excited to get to know the team God has put together. There is no doubt in my mind that he has created the perfect team to go. As small as it may be, I’ve been praying the Lord would do immense work within us and around us. Friends, I ask that you’d pray the same—pray that we would be open to all that He wants to teach, show, and tell us. 

We can’t wait to share our journey with you. 

Catch you on the other side of the world,

Jourdan

First of all, I would like to thank Jesus for taking me to Ethiopia for the second time. I didn’t think I could have a better experience than the first trip, but Addis Abba a second time does get better. Addis is like an onion, smelly, and each year I get to go back, I get to see a new layer. Last year everything was new, and everything was perfect, like a fairy tale missions trip. I came back from it and nothing really changed, I was still a greedy American child, and I believe I still am, but instead of greedy, I am blessed. Coming home from this trip, I learned that I am still learning. I am learning who I am, and who I want to be. I know one thing for sure: I want to be Ethiopian. I learned that I am American, and the world sees me as an American, and the world sees me as money. We visited Bethel, a ministry that gives women a job instead of begging or prostitution, and on our drive up the road we were met by happy, joyous children running around our vans screaming “money”. This and every other day in Ethiopia broke my heart. I don’t know if I can say I am proud to be an American, but I can say I am blessed to be an American, I am blessed to live in a country that freely allows me to see how much it sucks. Let me assure you this is not the only thing I took from my trip to Ethiopia. The people I met while we walked to Tomoca, drove to Bethel, served in our house, and walked on the roads taught me and showed me relationship. And God is showing me that I need to live more for relationships and less – a lot less – for myself. I am learning that I have a lot to learn, and everyone around me is willing to help teach me whether I agree or disagree. I want to learn about everyone else’s lives, and I want to learn about the world, and I want to learn how to love like Jesus (and Ethiopians). Lastly, I would like to thank Jesus for the life he has given me.

– Malea Tesseneer

If I close my eyes, I am back there. I am swaying in a van as a blur of unfamiliar noises, people, and landscapes fly past. I am holding hands with Bamlak as I lean against Selam and Alemtschay, their voices rising and falling as they sing songs to the Lord. I am listening to the rain cascading upon the roof as Yeshi and her kids play downstairs in the kitchen.

When I open my eyes, I am here. Home. But home doesn’t seem to be the right word. Being back in Ethiopia for a second time, experiencing and remembering all that I have, makes Addis Ababa feel like home. Yet, returning back to Bozeman feels like home too. So… what and where is “home”?

After these past two weeks, here’s what I know. I know that my answer to this question has changed. It changed after driving down a dirt road tucked away and hidden from the bustling and congested roads in Addis. A simple road hidden from view that led to a home. A beautiful black stone home nestled amongst vibrant green grass and lush trees. A home I have only seen in pictures growing up. This isn’t a home I’ve ever been familiar with. It wasn’t mine. But it was and is a home that has shaped my family.

In this seemingly ordinary home lived my mom and her family 55 years ago. My grandparents, Phil and Diane Jacobson, followed the Lord’s call to be missionaries in Addis Ababa for six years with their three children. Trusting in God, they uprooted their comfortable lives in America, sold everything, and flew to an unfamiliar place. It was in this home that my mom was raised to be the woman she is today. Watching her parents serve the Lord through their daily selfless actions of helping others, learning from others, and outpouring love onto others, shaped my mom and her two siblings. Had my grandparents not trusted in the Lord’s plan for them, our family would not be what it is today. A family rooted in faith. A family that loves deeply. A family that knows His promises are good and that we need only follow His voice when He calls us.

The van stops and God is pulling me into this home. Waves of emotion crash over me as I step out and am greeted by a woman whom I have never met. Tears trickle down my face as I attempt to put into words what this home means to me. Tears streaming from my eyes, weak hands finding strength in hers as I explain that my grandfather, who acted on faith and followed God to this exact home 55 years ago, passed away three months ago. I realize as I walk the rooms he once walked, that home means much more than we may ever understand. Home for my grandfather was wherever God was. Home to him was in these black stone walls where he shaped our family by listening to God and saying, just as Isaiah, “Here I am. Send me!” Home was in the time spent on Turtle Lake, surrounded by God’s beauty seen in the visible landscape and the moments shared with his family. Home was watching his children grow into the faithful children of God that they are today. Home was his church, full of fellowship with others and the music that brought him peace. Home was in his wife, whom he loved and cherished so profoundly. Home was never one place. It was wherever the Lord called him to be.

If I close my eyes again, I am back there. Standing in a home that is much more than that simple word. It is a promise. A promise that God dwells with us wherever we are so that He can be near to us. We need only lean into Him, trusting Him through this messy and imperfect life. When God calls us out of comfort and familiarity, He uses those moments to open our eyes and our hearts to all that He promises for us. I pray that from this point forward, I never lose sight of what the Lord has taught me through this experience. I pray that He continues to shape me into the woman He calls me to be. I pray that, just as my grandfather did, I will hear His voice and follow, never doubting that my home is wherever He is.

Lastly, I pray for my team, the staff and children of Bring Love In, and all of you. I pray that my team finds peace in returning back home. That this peace only He can give, which “transcends all understanding” is found in knowing they are home not just in Bozeman, but wherever they are called because God dwells within them. I pray that the staff and children of Bring Love In continue to live out the promise that God so visibly and powerfully displays in each of them. And I pray for all of you. Whether you’re reading this blog or supported one or more of us through prayer or financially, or for any other reason. I pray that He is your home. That you feel His presence in all of the messiness and imperfection of your life. He is there, calling out to you, waiting for you always.

Close your eyes and know you are home.

Elise