Three years ago, in an article entitled “Abandoned Babies Die in Jeddah Streets,” Arab News reported nearly twenty babies—the majority, younger than ten months—deserted within a two month span in this Saudi Arabian city. Several were found dead, and many were rushed to local hospitals where they died soon after.
When an atrocity of this nature comes to public attention, no one would begin to deny the cruelty—even brutality—of such a crime. Certainly this kind of negligence moves beyond selfishness to either insanity or wickedness. There is no person of sound mind that would expect an infant to have the ability to care for himself. For an infant, the result of desertion is death.
It is common knowledge that caring for a child is both exacting and essential; indeed, it takes a great amount of time an effort to prepare an individual—from infancy—for adulthood. However, it seems that this concept somehow does not translate into the spiritual mindset.
The Church seems very eager to create converts, yet quite deficient when it comes to bringing up young believers in the faith. When a person accepts Christ as Savior and Lord—becomes born again—spiritually, that person is an infant, a newborn. The spiritual concept is no different from the physical. Helping a young believer grow will take a great amount of resources, time, and effort. That believer will fall, that believer will frustrate; but without discipleship, that believer will fail.
When the Church chooses to evangelize and fails to disciple, the newborns, which the Church itself chose to aid in birth, are abandoned to “fend for themselves.” In other words, they are left to die. Christians are called to “go and make disciples . . . teaching them to obey” everything Jesus commanded (Matthew 28:19). It is no coincidence that this has come to be called “The Great Commission”; yet, somewhere along the way, believers have diluted it to nothing more than a suggestion.
According to the American Heritage Dictionary, a disciple is one who “embraces and assists in spreading the teachings of another” or “an active adherent, as of a movement or philosophy.” While such a definition may first cause a Christian to evaluate himself, it should also open eyes to the intensity of the calling of Christ—a calling that is directed not only to the pastors and church leaders, but to everyone.
How many times has one heard, sang, taught, preached that there is “no greater calling” than to be a disciple of Christ? Conversely, how many “followers” choose the concepts and responsibilities to which they will adhere? Instead, let us live lives “worthy of the calling [we] have received” (Ephesians 4:1), allowing “the God of peace . . . [to] equip [us] with everything good for doing his will . . . [and] work in us what is pleasing to him” (Hebrews 13:20-21), as we take the Lord at his word, individually agree with everything he has said, and stop leaving the children we have birthed to raise themselves.
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
Saturday, September 19, 2009
"Yes, Lord."
So, I’ve been in Mombasa, Kenya for eight months now, and I decided to follow Christ wholeheartedly . . . two, three months ago? For a while I was trying to figure out the day exactly—the day I decided it was “all or nothing,” the day I finally said “yes” to God.
Not long ago, I was reviewing some journal entries from my study through Experiencing God. At some point I had stopped—several months back—and I couldn’t remember the reason, so I turned to the last entry: “I cannot say ‘yes.’”
I remember now, the fear that the idea of an emphatic “yes” had carried: “yes” had brought me to Africa—alone; “yes” had separated me from my family and friends—for a year; “yes” was uncomfortable and lonely; “yes” was out of the question.
But as I read that entry, a broad, goofy smile spread across my face. Somewhere within the past few months, Christ changed my heart. He romanced my soul, and I had said “yes.”
There is a deep theological concept here concerning a progression that must occur to transform a person from being a “conditional follower” to one that can pronounce an emphatic “yes” to Christ.
Several weeks ago, I read about an interview with the Nobel Prize-winning author Toni Morrison. When posed the question as to the basis and method of her success, she merely replied, “I am a great writer because when I was a little girl and walked into a room where my father was sitting, his eyes would light up. That is why. . . . There is no other reason.”
Consider the disciples, knowing without a doubt that the God of all creation loved each one of them personally, regardless of anything they were or did. He loved them. When one is truly loved unconditionally, when one has grown in the deepest, most fulfilling, most romantic relationship, there is nothing a person wouldn’t do for the sake of that lover. This is what fueled the disciples through their ministries, what—as tradition testifies—compelled most to their deaths: love. Love for Christ, and why? Because of His great love.
I think, as evangelical Christians, we often become inoculated to the Gospel of Christ, and even to the gospels themselves—reading through the pages, getting caught up in our own agendas concerning politics, theology, or next week’s sermon—and somehow begin to neglect the beauty and truth that lies in the person of Christ Jesus. It is for this reason that we find such difficulty in saying “yes” to Him. It is not that we lack the desire to be like Christ or that we lack the desire to please him. Instead, it is simply our failure to know Him, because to know Him is to love Him. And as Paul reminds the Church in Corinth, “Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for Him who died for them and was raised again” (II Corinthians 5:14-15). Therefore, to love Him is to say “yes.”
Indeed, “yes” still leaves me here in Africa—alone. “Yes” still leaves me separated from my family and friends—for a year. “Yes” remains uncomfortable and lonely. But the Creator of the universe loves me, and so I am (finally) “compel[led] . . . [to] . . . live for . . . Him who died for [me] and was raised again.” And “the world has yet to see what God can do with and for and through and in a [wo/]man who is fully consecrated to Him” (Henry Varley).
And so the journey began . . . .
Not long ago, I was reviewing some journal entries from my study through Experiencing God. At some point I had stopped—several months back—and I couldn’t remember the reason, so I turned to the last entry: “I cannot say ‘yes.’”
I remember now, the fear that the idea of an emphatic “yes” had carried: “yes” had brought me to Africa—alone; “yes” had separated me from my family and friends—for a year; “yes” was uncomfortable and lonely; “yes” was out of the question.
But as I read that entry, a broad, goofy smile spread across my face. Somewhere within the past few months, Christ changed my heart. He romanced my soul, and I had said “yes.”
There is a deep theological concept here concerning a progression that must occur to transform a person from being a “conditional follower” to one that can pronounce an emphatic “yes” to Christ.
Several weeks ago, I read about an interview with the Nobel Prize-winning author Toni Morrison. When posed the question as to the basis and method of her success, she merely replied, “I am a great writer because when I was a little girl and walked into a room where my father was sitting, his eyes would light up. That is why. . . . There is no other reason.”
Consider the disciples, knowing without a doubt that the God of all creation loved each one of them personally, regardless of anything they were or did. He loved them. When one is truly loved unconditionally, when one has grown in the deepest, most fulfilling, most romantic relationship, there is nothing a person wouldn’t do for the sake of that lover. This is what fueled the disciples through their ministries, what—as tradition testifies—compelled most to their deaths: love. Love for Christ, and why? Because of His great love.
I think, as evangelical Christians, we often become inoculated to the Gospel of Christ, and even to the gospels themselves—reading through the pages, getting caught up in our own agendas concerning politics, theology, or next week’s sermon—and somehow begin to neglect the beauty and truth that lies in the person of Christ Jesus. It is for this reason that we find such difficulty in saying “yes” to Him. It is not that we lack the desire to be like Christ or that we lack the desire to please him. Instead, it is simply our failure to know Him, because to know Him is to love Him. And as Paul reminds the Church in Corinth, “Christ's love compels us, because we are convinced that one died for all, and therefore all died. And He died for all, that those who live should no longer live for themselves but for Him who died for them and was raised again” (II Corinthians 5:14-15). Therefore, to love Him is to say “yes.”
Indeed, “yes” still leaves me here in Africa—alone. “Yes” still leaves me separated from my family and friends—for a year. “Yes” remains uncomfortable and lonely. But the Creator of the universe loves me, and so I am (finally) “compel[led] . . . [to] . . . live for . . . Him who died for [me] and was raised again.” And “the world has yet to see what God can do with and for and through and in a [wo/]man who is fully consecrated to Him” (Henry Varley).
And so the journey began . . . .
Sunday, June 14, 2009
You Cannot Stay Where You Are and Go With God
so, in the study i'm doing, it's starting to talk about surrender to God, and i have honestly not been in the mood to read it. basically, i'm like, "pssh, i'm in africa, how much more surrendered can i be?" so i kept putting off reading it b/c i've already got that area covered. (and also partly b/c i was afraid i'd figure out there was something else God had for me, and i didn't want to know, being already worn out enough just from my physical placement.) so today, i finally decided i need to get on w/ this study after putting it off for a few days, and i didn't really have much else to do b/c i was having (if you ask me) a God-intervened lack of internet connection. halfway through the study, i read this:
"I want Thy plan, O God, for my life. May I be happy and contented whether in the homeland or on the foreign field; whether married or alone, in happiness or sorrow, health or sickness, prosperity or adversity--I want Thy plan, O God, for my life. I want it; oh, I want it!"
-Oswald J. Smith (missionary statesman of Canada)
you could say that i've been feeling pretty burned out lately, being only halfway done and really being ready to come home. i read this and i just wept. i want this to be my prayer. this is not where i am, i'm definitely no david livingstone. reading this was so humbling and helped to remind me of my job here, and how that is first to remain in close relationship to the Lord. nothing can happen if i'm not in close relationship w/ him, "whether in the homeland or on the foreign field." so God reminded me, i can't just wait out this time and expect him to move, i can't just stay here and go with him. it's impossible. so today when i left the house to go visit my friend jemimah at the school, i had this in mind, and the willingness to be serving him again.
it turned out that jemimah is sick, she has ulcers and malaria (please pray for her), and so i had to just return home after sorting a few things for her. i figured i'd have a nice relaxed afternoon and watch a movie or read a book. as i sat down to pride and prejudice, i heard someone knock, and it was a little muslim girl who lives near me. i've tried several times, in vain, to invite her sisters over, but they cannot come, so it was a surprise to see her here. she came in and we had a really nice afternoon, playing uno, listening to shakira, and coloring disney princesses (beauty and the beast transcends all cultures, haha).
after she left, i really thanked God, remembering the need for flexibility and that "in his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps," (proverbs 16:9), which has really been the theme of this last week. when i finally allowed Christ to get my attention, he even brought the opportunity to serve to me.
so my question today is, are you going with God?
"I want Thy plan, O God, for my life. May I be happy and contented whether in the homeland or on the foreign field; whether married or alone, in happiness or sorrow, health or sickness, prosperity or adversity--I want Thy plan, O God, for my life. I want it; oh, I want it!"
-Oswald J. Smith (missionary statesman of Canada)
you could say that i've been feeling pretty burned out lately, being only halfway done and really being ready to come home. i read this and i just wept. i want this to be my prayer. this is not where i am, i'm definitely no david livingstone. reading this was so humbling and helped to remind me of my job here, and how that is first to remain in close relationship to the Lord. nothing can happen if i'm not in close relationship w/ him, "whether in the homeland or on the foreign field." so God reminded me, i can't just wait out this time and expect him to move, i can't just stay here and go with him. it's impossible. so today when i left the house to go visit my friend jemimah at the school, i had this in mind, and the willingness to be serving him again.
it turned out that jemimah is sick, she has ulcers and malaria (please pray for her), and so i had to just return home after sorting a few things for her. i figured i'd have a nice relaxed afternoon and watch a movie or read a book. as i sat down to pride and prejudice, i heard someone knock, and it was a little muslim girl who lives near me. i've tried several times, in vain, to invite her sisters over, but they cannot come, so it was a surprise to see her here. she came in and we had a really nice afternoon, playing uno, listening to shakira, and coloring disney princesses (beauty and the beast transcends all cultures, haha).
after she left, i really thanked God, remembering the need for flexibility and that "in his heart a man plans his course, but the LORD determines his steps," (proverbs 16:9), which has really been the theme of this last week. when i finally allowed Christ to get my attention, he even brought the opportunity to serve to me.
so my question today is, are you going with God?
Friday, May 8, 2009
A Change of Pace
Did God "call" me to Kenya? Did God "call" me to work at a high school? Did God "call" me to work with Muslims and nominal Christians? Yes, he did, and you know what's crazy? Are these my passions? Did he send me here to work in my country of choice, working in my job of choice, doing what I'm good at, working with people groups that I have a special passion for? No. He didn't.
Serving God is not about doing for God what we're good at or what we're "passionate" about. It's about serving God. It's about what he wants done. He is working all around us, and he wants us to join, but too often we're to focused on finding our "passion" or our "calling" to see the need in front of us. It is not our job to dream up the amazing things we will do for God. It's our job to listen and go. This has become very evident to me in my ministry here.
I think as Christians, we get really hung up with our jargon. A "calling" sounds so big and amazing. (And saying, "I'm not 'called,'" is the easiest way to get out of something.) But, how "called" did Jesus feel when he was rushed by crowds day after day who were mostly just there for the novelty and the free stuff (boy, can I empathize)? As well, our idea of a "passion" seems just . . . unbiblical. Can I say that? I've been told that when that word is used in the bible it is used only in a negative sense. (Hos 7:6-7, "Their passion smolders all night; in the morning it blazes like a flaming fire. All of them are hot as an oven; they devour their rulers."
1 Cor 7:9 "But if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry than to burn with passion ." NIV) Where are we getting this idea of "passion," anyway?
So look around. How often do we assume we're not "called," simply because we don't feel "passionate" about something? So we do nothing.
John 9:4:
"As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work."
So, let's get to work!
Serving God is not about doing for God what we're good at or what we're "passionate" about. It's about serving God. It's about what he wants done. He is working all around us, and he wants us to join, but too often we're to focused on finding our "passion" or our "calling" to see the need in front of us. It is not our job to dream up the amazing things we will do for God. It's our job to listen and go. This has become very evident to me in my ministry here.
I think as Christians, we get really hung up with our jargon. A "calling" sounds so big and amazing. (And saying, "I'm not 'called,'" is the easiest way to get out of something.) But, how "called" did Jesus feel when he was rushed by crowds day after day who were mostly just there for the novelty and the free stuff (boy, can I empathize)? As well, our idea of a "passion" seems just . . . unbiblical. Can I say that? I've been told that when that word is used in the bible it is used only in a negative sense. (Hos 7:6-7, "Their passion smolders all night; in the morning it blazes like a flaming fire. All of them are hot as an oven; they devour their rulers."
1 Cor 7:9 "But if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry than to burn with passion ." NIV) Where are we getting this idea of "passion," anyway?
So look around. How often do we assume we're not "called," simply because we don't feel "passionate" about something? So we do nothing.
John 9:4:
"As long as it is day, we must do the work of him who sent me. Night is coming, when no one can work."
So, let's get to work!
Thursday, March 26, 2009
i'm an emotional psycho and God is good.
so i'm done with capitalization, just so you know. after we won district, we trained very hard (2-a-days) for the next two weeks for the provincial tournament. last tuesday we left for matuga (about an hour away from mombasa) on our way to stay at a girl's boarding school there. it was a bit of an...experience. bathing out of buckets, sleeping without mosquito nets, and eating (apparently, though i didn't notice) not the greatest food. on our second night, i was incredibly worn out, having only gotten, at most, 2 hours of sleep the night before (we woke at 4:30 to train). then, through a series of events involving a stolen bucket and a borrowed cell phone i ended up in a dark corner bawling my eyes out and telling God that his sticking me here in africa wasn't a very nice thing to do and that i was really at the breaking point. just a few minutes later a teacher from another school walked by and saw that i was a blubbering mess. she was nearly frantic to make me feel better/stop crying. one thing led to another, and next thing i know i'm talking to some canadian girl on the phone and making plans to meet her on the following saturday. since that night, things have been so much better--not that there won't be hard times. but i've been able to get the focus off myself, which was good because the following day was difficult, we had to send one of the players, mercy, home because her sister, to whom she was very close, had passed away (pray for her). it was so hard on the team. there was a positive aspect that came out of it, however. everyone seemed to realize they were being selfish and unnecessarily negative, and they played their last game truly as a team and with the best attitude i've seen yet.
so, the matuga trip was apparently a turning point for me as well as a sort of "coming out party." previously, i'd been so busy and lazy that i hadn't bothered really getting out of tudor (the area of town where i live). taking matatus (essentially 15 passenger volkswagon vans) just seemed like more trouble than it was worth, and besides, going to town alone is just lame and boring. but friday morning sandra gave me a call (she and ralph are american missionaries here, they are in their early thirties and have 3 kids, ryan, alyssa, and alana. we go to the same church and they house our "life group," but i hadn't had a chance to hang out with them much, yet.) anyhow, they invited me to come to "old town" with them and go to this awesome coffee shop and prayer walk. "Old town" is--surprisingly--the oldest part of mombasa and also the part with the most muslim influence. it's like a movie set with stone/brick streets that are barely wide enough for a single car, and on both sides are tall 3-5 story buildings with out-hanging balconies. after old town i ended up spending the whole day w/ the thompsons, we ate lunch and then sandra and i talked for hours until it got close to supper and she said i should stay and we'd play games after we ate. much like me, she's not the biggest fan of cooking and, apparently, not most talented either. haha...we made pizzas and it took us probably over two hours. it was so much fun--and they didn't turn out badly. we really hit it off, she and i have so much in common and she is so much fun. this is the biggest answer to prayer. i so needed a friend.
then, on saturday, i met the canadian girl, kelly. (this was my first solo matatu mission in mombasa.) i took her to the awesome coffee shop and we went to fort jesus. she has only been in kenya for about two weeks now, so she was meeting her team that afternoon. i ended up hanging out with the team--about 15 various people (british, irish, canadian, and american)working for various ngo's in mombasa and the surrounding areas--all day (geez, they spend a lot of their time in pubs...). and it was so nice to be around other people who want to "save the world." (although a bit wierd because i'd say probably none of them are christians--another part of my mission field? i think so.)
finally, just the other day i was walking to the store and i happened to meet a few muslim ladies who live across the street from me. i said, "hello," and next thing i know i've been hanging out with them for over two hours and it's already dark! they are a very sweet family, and i think i will become very close to two of the daughters, hanan (21) and ahlaam (16). hanan is to come teach sandra and i how to cook indian food sometime soon, and since i live just across the street, i'm thinking they will feel very comfortable coming over, not having to "go out" really.
the Lord is working. i'm so thankful.
Saturday, March 14, 2009
So this is home.
Not gonna lie. I'm finding it difficult to see this place as "home," and I feel like that is imperitive to being "emotionally present." But things are falling into place. My flat is finally settled (it's the second from the top), everything but curtains.
As you may know, I'm helping coach the basketball girls. I love it. They've got me running again most days (and icing my knees most nights). This morning we just did conditioning, so we played football (soccer) and rugby--which I LOVE, pretty sure any game where you get to tackle people is a good game. We've been training really hard (they more than I) and even though they had never even touched a basketball before January, they won district last week! I'm so proud of them, they're just flying through the drills now, and are not nearly as "pansy" as they were when they started out. Not only did they have to get used to basketball, they had to get used to excercise too. Pretty much none of them had run more than several yards before January either. So, tomorrow we're going to the beach to do last minute conditioning before provincials on Tuesday.
As for teaching, I'm sure most of you know, I am not. My work permit has not come through yet, so if you're praying, that would be an excellent thing to pray for. But even when teaching, I've only been given three classes (all freshman); so, obviously I have a lot of free time. I've been spending this week to really pray about what else God wants me to be doing here, and I think I'm going to start volunteering at a library that reaches out to Muslim/Hindu youth and children. (There is a baby monkey outside my window right now.)
If you've talked to me much about my plans to work in Africa, I always planned on living in a hut. That's what I wanted. Instead, the cheapest option I was given to live in has two bedrooms, and I find myself asking God, "What's going on here?!" I feel so comfortable (and drawn to) the "romantic" idea of missions. Working in the slums or just with the very poor. Instead, I'm teaching private school students. As I spent this week trying to figure out where else God can use me, I had a very . . . I'd say providential experience today. I was walking home from the school after practice and I felt compelled to walk down this road--alley, rather. I knew it led to a slightly shady and definitely poor part of the area. (Keeping in mind, this is only blocks away from where I live.) As I was walking, I was asking God how did this area escape me before. I mean, I've been telling God, "I really would like to work in the slums . . ." and they're right there. I'm a missionary for heaven's sake, I'm supposed to notice this business! It is a very small area, surrounded by the fairly well-do-to, or at least comfortable. As I walked through, I talked to some kids for a while, and then passed by a house where a small group of people were taking tea. "Karibu, chai." (Welcome...) and so I was like, why not? I had a seat on a rock and spent about five minutes trying to communicate. Nothing exceptional happened, but I realized that God can use me right here in my neighborhood. If I keep walking through that area (and learning Kiswahili), eventually I'll make friends, and be able to help people and share Christ. So today's lesson, I guess, is don't overlook the needs in your own neighborhood. Apparently, even missionaries do that . . . .
Thursday, February 19, 2009
"
So obviously I’ve been busy and the internet is sketchy right now but I want to let you in on what’s going on here. I’ve fully moved into my flat, all I need is curtains, and God really stretched the money I have so I’m not having to cook over a campfire or sleep on the ground. I’m very comfortable and I thank the Lord that he has really made my flat a refuge for me. At first coming home here felt like I was stepping into some sort of prison, the walls closing in on me here all by myself . . . . So that is an answer to prayer.
Carol, the mzungu missionary that has been working here for 20 years, lives just two floors below me and she has been an immense blessing. A couple weeks ago I came up to my flat (back when it was a prison) and sat down to answer emails. I was reading one from Curtis—which is always a treat—and this overwhelming feeling of loneliness just came over me. I couldn’t even read the email through the tears. I was outright bawling like a dang baby, and I prayed, “Lord please let Carol come up here.” (She had never come up here before, and hasn’t since because I always end up going in her flat since it’s by the stairs and on my way up.) I was at the point where I was considering the repercussions of leaving (dang open ended ticket . . .), really at the point of breaking, snapping, whatever you want to call it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so terrible. Not two minutes later I heard my doorbell (which I didn’t even know I had), and I got up from the table with my tear-streaked, red-eyed face and answered the door. It was Carol. “Are you ok?” “No-ot rre-al-ly.” (Kinda hard to play “I’ve got it all together” when your eyes are swollen to half-mast and your nose is running like the dang Amazon river.) “What’s the matter?” So long story short I made myself as presentable as possible and we went to eat Chinese and got ice cream and she drove me around, helping me get my bearings of the city, and told me about her big break down moments when she was first here as a short-term missionary. So, another answered prayer.
I am currently teaching CRE (Christian Religious Education), the Old Testament, Computers, and Literature to one student (we’re gonna read Pride and Prejudice and The Importance of Being Earnest, bless his heart, I got to pick). Teaching is not my love, but I’m pressing on. I’m still helping coach the basketball girls and loving it. We have a tournament this Saturday and I really hope they win at least one. Motivation is a difficult trait to instill, but Kimani (the coach) had all but decided that we weren’t going to play on Saturday. The team called a meeting on their own, decided (apparently after many words) that they were gonna suck it up and show some effort. So we’re gonna play. If you’re looking for ways to pray, unity is something you pray for our team. I love working with the girls, it’s my favorite. They have me running up to two and a half miles now, and I think I’m gonna have to start icing my joints. But I love it. Running is one of my favorite outlets and now I have people pushing me to do it. One of the players, Jehmimah—I have no idea how to spell that, you know, as in, “Aunt . . .”—is a real sweet girl. She even came over and helped me clean one afternoon. We end up talking a lot about just whatever. I’m only teaching Form 1 (freshman), and we have to freshman on the team. This has actually turned out to be a good thing, because I’m not actually teaching them, it’s easier to get close to them.
Another BIG reason for prayer: I’m tutoring 2 Muslim students.
I still haven’t found a church, but I went with Carol to her life group last Sunday and loved it. It was so good to be around other strong and seeking believers, even if they are a bunch of Calvinists…haha. Of course, it’s no Equate Death Team, but it is really nice. One of the girls who goes there, Jackie, is a native Kenyan who works with Muslim and Hindu youth and children. I think (since I’m only teaching Form 1’s and I have a lot of extra time during the day at school) I’m gonna start helping her for the rest of the year.
Also, I still need a friend. Not only does living along stink, but not having anyone to really talk to stinks even worse. I love Carol and thank God for her like every day, but she’s probably more of a mother-type figure. She’s a lot of fun and great to go to for advice, but I’d love to have a friend my age. (I miss Melanie! . . . I don’t remotely expect to find someone as awesome as Mel, I don’t think they’re putting out very many models at that level of awesomeness, but I would love a good friend.)
Yet again, thank you for your prayers and emails. I couldn’t be here doing this without you.
So obviously I’ve been busy and the internet is sketchy right now but I want to let you in on what’s going on here. I’ve fully moved into my flat, all I need is curtains, and God really stretched the money I have so I’m not having to cook over a campfire or sleep on the ground. I’m very comfortable and I thank the Lord that he has really made my flat a refuge for me. At first coming home here felt like I was stepping into some sort of prison, the walls closing in on me here all by myself . . . . So that is an answer to prayer.
Carol, the mzungu missionary that has been working here for 20 years, lives just two floors below me and she has been an immense blessing. A couple weeks ago I came up to my flat (back when it was a prison) and sat down to answer emails. I was reading one from Curtis—which is always a treat—and this overwhelming feeling of loneliness just came over me. I couldn’t even read the email through the tears. I was outright bawling like a dang baby, and I prayed, “Lord please let Carol come up here.” (She had never come up here before, and hasn’t since because I always end up going in her flat since it’s by the stairs and on my way up.) I was at the point where I was considering the repercussions of leaving (dang open ended ticket . . .), really at the point of breaking, snapping, whatever you want to call it. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so terrible. Not two minutes later I heard my doorbell (which I didn’t even know I had), and I got up from the table with my tear-streaked, red-eyed face and answered the door. It was Carol. “Are you ok?” “No-ot rre-al-ly.” (Kinda hard to play “I’ve got it all together” when your eyes are swollen to half-mast and your nose is running like the dang Amazon river.) “What’s the matter?” So long story short I made myself as presentable as possible and we went to eat Chinese and got ice cream and she drove me around, helping me get my bearings of the city, and told me about her big break down moments when she was first here as a short-term missionary. So, another answered prayer.
I am currently teaching CRE (Christian Religious Education), the Old Testament, Computers, and Literature to one student (we’re gonna read Pride and Prejudice and The Importance of Being Earnest, bless his heart, I got to pick). Teaching is not my love, but I’m pressing on. I’m still helping coach the basketball girls and loving it. We have a tournament this Saturday and I really hope they win at least one. Motivation is a difficult trait to instill, but Kimani (the coach) had all but decided that we weren’t going to play on Saturday. The team called a meeting on their own, decided (apparently after many words) that they were gonna suck it up and show some effort. So we’re gonna play. If you’re looking for ways to pray, unity is something you pray for our team. I love working with the girls, it’s my favorite. They have me running up to two and a half miles now, and I think I’m gonna have to start icing my joints. But I love it. Running is one of my favorite outlets and now I have people pushing me to do it. One of the players, Jehmimah—I have no idea how to spell that, you know, as in, “Aunt . . .”—is a real sweet girl. She even came over and helped me clean one afternoon. We end up talking a lot about just whatever. I’m only teaching Form 1 (freshman), and we have to freshman on the team. This has actually turned out to be a good thing, because I’m not actually teaching them, it’s easier to get close to them.
Another BIG reason for prayer: I’m tutoring 2 Muslim students.
I still haven’t found a church, but I went with Carol to her life group last Sunday and loved it. It was so good to be around other strong and seeking believers, even if they are a bunch of Calvinists…haha. Of course, it’s no Equate Death Team, but it is really nice. One of the girls who goes there, Jackie, is a native Kenyan who works with Muslim and Hindu youth and children. I think (since I’m only teaching Form 1’s and I have a lot of extra time during the day at school) I’m gonna start helping her for the rest of the year.
Also, I still need a friend. Not only does living along stink, but not having anyone to really talk to stinks even worse. I love Carol and thank God for her like every day, but she’s probably more of a mother-type figure. She’s a lot of fun and great to go to for advice, but I’d love to have a friend my age. (I miss Melanie! . . . I don’t remotely expect to find someone as awesome as Mel, I don’t think they’re putting out very many models at that level of awesomeness, but I would love a good friend.)
Yet again, thank you for your prayers and emails. I couldn’t be here doing this without you.
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