Transparent Moments

In Africa, not having the resources of a developed country, you do not have delusions of control. So much is unpredictable that it grows your dependence on Jesus because you pray about everything. When we moved to the U.S., I had to relearn what dependence on God looks like when I have a sense of predictability, even for something small—I can leave the house at a certain time to drop my kids off for soccer and not gamble on when I’ll arrive. I realized I wasn’t praying on the go as much, so God and I had long conversations about that.

The pandemic restored that dependence. Nothing is predictable; it’s almost impossible to plan. I realized that was a familiar place for me. I didn’t like it, but it was good for my faith. I had come to enjoy the “delusion of control,” that comes with living here, but I know it wasn’t good for Jesus and me.

JBU: How do you refresh and restore your soul?

Eda: Reading Scripture. On days when Scripture is like honey and on days when it’s like bitter herbs, I must consistently be in God’s Word. Remembering how faithful God has been and that I can trust Him through this has helped a lot. It feeds my faith and identity, even as they get attacked by a COVID-19 reality.

Prayer. I love getting outside and talking to Jesus. There’s something about nature that makes me worship, and we are blessed to be in a neighborhood with gorgeous trails. Walks are especially powerful for me.

Community. We love having people in our home, and that was impossible for a while, so staying connected to women who pray for me and let me pray for them was a lifeline. Technology became a huge blessing. I reconnected with my girls in Kenya on Zoom and engaged in women’s ministries online. Fasting. We started 2021 with a fast that became a shock absorber when we lost my mother-in-law in January. I have returned to fasting occasionally.

Worship music. Sitting in the truth of Who God is through worship has been deeply refreshing.

Sabbath. The rhythm of stopping, delighting in God, and resting in Him is powerful. When work, school, and home were in the same place, it became a lifeline. And taking a day off every week has been restorative.

JBU: How can we build bridges in the church and surrounding communities as we face monumental issues like divisive politics and racial injustice?

Eda: This year felt like a discipleship audit for the North American church. What or who defines you—your political affiliation or the kingdom of God? The structures we build around ourselves and the ways we intertwine them with the “Evangelical Church” have been deeply tested and found wanting. I am convinced more than ever that we meet at the cross. It levels us all, exposes us all, and invites us to a reality where we all look more like Jesus.

On another note, people have lost their minds on social media. Don’t hide behind the internet to say things you would never say to someone’s face. That builds walls and is extremely costly. As a youth pastor, I have apologized repeatedly to students for the way Christians in my generation behave on social media. It’s appalling and unacceptable, and not becoming of a Jesus-follower.

Build real relationships with real people. Across tables, over coffee, break bread with people you don’t understand. Ask them questions, learn, and die to self. We need Jesus to do it well. Truth be told, we need Jesus to do anything well.

JBU: As an African woman of color raising three boys in America, how are you navigating life and conversations around these issues?

Eda: This is a tough one for me. Growing up as part of a majority in middle-class Kenya, I never thought about how being Black would limit my goals or dreams. My president looked like me—so did my teacher, bank manager, and pastor. I haven’t carried the weight of blackness in the same way as my African American brothers and sisters. I came to the U.S. in my thirties and was already formed in how I see myself as far as race goes.

I must say, the weight of blackness has gotten heavier with every passing year, and I feel a responsibility to understand the issues. I can’t afford to check out and say this is not my battle. Before people hear my African name, they see a woman of color and assign all the boxes. We are raising three Black boys in this America, and they will form how they see themselves in this context, so I need to be engaged.

There are questions I need to ask my boys that I don’t even know to ask. We have had great conversations about how they perceive themselves, how they feel growing up here. I need to have these conversations more, and I’m trying to do it naturally when something comes up in a show we’re watching or as they talk about their day at school.

JBU: Looking to the future, how do you see God working in your life and faith walk?

Eda: I think COVID-19 has gutted some things, and as painful as that is, it feels like preparation. I have experienced God move in inexplicable ways on my journey with Him. I pray for a reawakening—that we would hunger for God like never before, that He would do things we wouldn’t even have thought to ask Him.

I pray for spiritual revival for myself and for my family. With all my heart I pray that my boys would know God— that they would have a deep, intimate relationship with their Creator and be all God is calling them to be. I pray for my students in youth ministry—that they wouldn’t just survive but instead would deepen their faith and become powerful, hope-filled, life-giving voices in their generation—that many, many people would know Jesus because of them.

I PRAY FOR A REAWAKENING—THAT WE WOULD HUNGER FOR GOD LIKE NEVER BEFORE, THAT HE WOULD DO THINGS WE WOULDN'T EVEN HAVE THOUGHT TO ASK HIM.

JBU: How can we sit in both pain and joy and still move forward in faith and everyday life?

Eda: One of my favorite movies is Inside Out, which features the emotions inside the mind of a preteen girl navigating a move to a new state. The characters in her mind—Fear, Anger, Disgust, Joy, and Sadness—are navigating this transition. Joy has been the main character in her story so far and is somewhat irritated by Sadness, but there’s a moment in the story where Joy realizes we can’t move forward without Sadness. They begin to make memories together, Joy and Sadness holding hands. That is such a powerful picture of what the past year and a half has been: the excitement of living through a global phenomenon that makes the whole world stop, juxtaposed alongside the trauma of a deadly disease that has robbed so many of so much. At the close of 2020, we asked the students in our ministry to name their losses and allow themselves to grieve. We had them write down their laments on a white board. They wrote about lost friendships, lost sports seasons, unceremonious transitions. We then asked them to look back and see what God had done. They talked about how God had drawn them closer, how He had given them a break from their crazy schedules, and how they had celebrated family time and bonded with siblings in a completely new way.

The grief was real and the things God had done were real. One didn’t negate the other. They both held hands and helped the students navigate a hard year.

In mid-January, we woke to the devastating news that my mother-in-law had suddenly died. We quickly organized to go home to Kenya. Even in this devastation, I felt like my mother-in-law had given me one last gift—a chance to go home. We were going to celebrate her life, and we were going to see dear family and friends we had not seen in a year and a half. Again, grief and joy held hands together.

In Lam. 3:18-23, the author names his devastation and proclaims, because of God’s great love, that he is not consumed. Both are true. The Psalms are full of this structure. The psalmist talks about his tears being his food and yet he hopes in the Lord. In Ps. 42:5, he speaks to his soul: “Why are you so downcast?...Put your hope in God.”

We can talk to God openly and honestly. He can handle it. Something happens as we sit in His presence: we’re able to move through our pain and embrace Who He is. Our circumstances may not change, but our perspective does. Hebrews 12:2 says that Jesus, for the joy set before Him, endured the cross. He had the power to get off that cross, but He endured it because of where His focus was. Perspective is powerful. Did the nails still hurt? Yes! But with His eyes on the prize, He got through it. So He invites us to fix our eyes on Him, the author and perfector of our faith.

He’s writing this epic story, and we can trust Him.

Marilyn Pritchard is a freelance writer. She has served in women’s ministry in her local church and currently serves on the boards of two nonprofit organizations. In addition to growing in her love for Jesus and other people, Marilyn is passionate about baking, blogging about baking, and chatting with her three adult daughters whenever they call. She and her husband of 31 years live in southeast Wisconsin.