I'm sure as Esther was being made queen in a regime that was unfriendly to the Jewish people, she didn't see what good would come of it. But, later, when a decree was issued that would have meant the destruction of the Jewish people in her kingdom, she was able to use her power as queen to save her people from that fate.
God shapes our lives in ways unique to the calling he places on us. Sometimes, to get the shape he needs us to be in, that means allowing us to go through some tough circumstances. I was never seriously in want as a child--I never went hungry, we had a homemade cake for every birthday and presents under the tree every Christmas. Music was a priority in our family, so I had private lessons on violin, then on cello, from the age of 9. But we still didn't have as much as many families in America: I can't remember a time when our roof didn't leak and our ceiling wasn't falling in; I lost several favorite books, pictures, and toys when the ceiling would begin leaking in a new place; it was not uncommon to catch a mouse in a mousetrap (or have one be caught by our pet cats) several times each week; I learned early in life how to keep food containers air-tight to avoid ant infestations; we got creative with fixes around the house when we couldn't afford to bring in a repairman. We were never in serious need of anything crucial, but my childhood was different from many of my friends'.
But, like Joseph and Esther, I'm seeing God use how I was shaped by these experiences for the calling he's placed on my life. Every day, I see more how God is able to use me in ways that he wouldn't be able to use other Americans.
I've seen some Americans assume that mold in their house is reason enough to burn it to the ground and start from scratch--when I discovered mold growing on my wall here in Kenya, I sighed a little because it was annoying, but then I went to the store, bought some bleach, and cleaned it up.
I've seen some Americans go into crisis mode when their ceiling begins leaking--when I woke up this morning to the sound of drip-drip-drip onto my desk, I surveyed the damage, thanked God that it wasn't dripping on my electronics, cleaned up the water, and put a bucket under the drip.
I've seen some Americans reduced to tears over the presence of an insect in their house--I've spent the past three weeks since arriving in Kenya playing defense against the bugs who want to share my dwelling space, and I've even given up on ridding my space of a few of them. (There's one spider in particular who's kind enough to sit just outside my door and never comes in. He's cool. He can stay.)
And here's an example of some improvised handiwork we've accomplished here since I moved in. Hair ties are a lot cheaper than a plumber!
The work we're doing here at the Tania Centre is vital to the lives of the children who live here, and every day it becomes clearer to me that my being here is badly needed. And every day it becomes clearer that not many other Americans would be able to live in conditions like this without feeling discouraged.
So I thank God for those leaky roofs and collapsed ceilings. I thank God for the mouse and ant infestations, and I thank him for the lost possessions and jury-rigs of my childhood home. Because of them, I'm able to do this urgent work here at the Tania Centre.
And this gives me hope--if God is able to redeem the hardships of my life, how much more can he redeem the hardships of these children here at the Tania Centre? The abandonment and disabilities these children live with every day are hard. So much harder than I can comprehend. But I know that that just means these children may be destined for great futures--great enough to save a country from famine or a kingdom from genocide when no other person could.
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