As I sit in the comfort of my own home on this snowy January evening, I am reminded that my world here is completely upside down from the land beyond the equator that I have just returned from- Kenya.
I’ve travelled a good chunk of the globe- been to 3 continents prior to this trip. Yet, I have never experienced as much culture shock in one day as I did our first day in Kenya. I remember having a conversation with God in my heart, “Lord, what on earth am I doing here? I really don’t think I can handle being this far out of my comfort zone for the next two weeks. Really. I don’t. I feel awful, but I think I might just need to be on the next plane out of here.” Yeah. Little missions minded Emily thought this. Little miss ‘Philippians 4:13 is her life verse’ felt this. I really felt like throwing in the towel and going back to my comfortable home in America.
Let me share with you why God did not let me give up on this trip.
(Read it in sections at a time if you need to. I know it's a lot).
A tiny glimpse of culture shock
Driving into the bush of Africa...
this actually helped the culture shock
settle down and the excitement kick in.
Joy in the Midst of Suffering
What you don’t see on all the television commercials to help sponsor African children is their beautiful smiles. Yes, that video footage does represent much of the desperation that is present on the continent of Africa. Yet, the one thing that is not captured by most of those cameras is the joy that is found in the midst of suffering.
I can’t say that we have heard songs in America with lyrics being sung with smiles by school children exclaiming, “God can take my mother and father, because all I need is Jesus!” I heard this in Kenya, though. These kids meant it, too. Many of them are living out the realities of this song.
Let me introduce you to a couple of my new friends. First, meet a little girl who is about 6 years old. Honestly, I don’t even know her name. I do know a little bit of her story, though.
When we arrived at the Lunga village (which translates as “upside down village”), I got out my tiny little “Smile, Jesus Loves You” beach ball and started playing with some of the children. I noticed this little girl came strapped with a baby to her back. She was having fun playing with us. I couldn’t believe it, but some of the kids started hitting the ball like a volleyball. I was very surprised that they had any knowledge of the sport.
While taking a water break by our van, I saw these large sticks poking out of the ground. I could tell that it obviously used to be some sort of structure and I was curious as to what it was. I asked Christopher, the local pastor that we were partnering with, what it was. He explained that it was a place where the village had prepared a body for burial 6 months prior. I glanced over just about 10 feet away and there was a grave marked by a cross. I asked him who had passed away. He explained to me that it was the father of that young girl with the baby strapped to her back. She also had another small sibling. Her mother was around, but was so ill that she could not care for her children. So, the girl was taking care of them.
Soon after this conversation, I met Linda. I’d say she’s about 11 or 12. She has a younger sister, Beverly, and two younger brothers as well. They are orphans. One of the last times the organization we were with had come, they discovered her and her siblings living in their aunt’s small house. They had no food, so the aunt was down by the coast working as a prostitute to earn money for their food. Linda really was raising her siblings by herself. The organization helped to buy food for them before they left and also helped them be able to go to school. Christopher had since taken them under his wing to watch over them and provide a better living situation for them.
Linda had seen us playing with the beach ball earlier and came to me asking to play volleyball. The “court” she selected for our volleyball game was none other than the place where the burial preparation structure for the other little girl’s father had been. While it was way higher than a regulation “net”, the two stick poles that supported the horizontal pole served us well. We used a partially inflated soccer ball in lieu of a volleyball and had to watch for holes in the ground so as not to twist our ankles.
The thing that I did not know until we were finished with the game is that Linda and her sister both tested positive for HIV recently. I have to admit that HIV/AIDS was a huge concern for me going over there. But, God is in control. He’s bigger than my fears. He’s bigger than the sorrow and suffering these people go through every day that are more real and tangible than my fears.
Those few moments were some of the happiest of my life. I know for sure they were happy for Linda and the others who were either participating in or watching our game. There we were in a place where much sorrow had occurred and people still were suffering with every day heart aches, having the time of our lives playing make-shift volleyball. Linda’s bright white teeth glistened in the sun; the sweat sent from the near by equator drenched us all. But we were smiling…even in the midst of suffering.
Approx. 6 Years old...raising her younger siblings
Playing Volleyball with Linda
Curious little half smiles
beautiful
This is just one of those beautiful smiles I'm talking about
SACRIFICE AND GRATITUDE
Sacrifice and Gratitude are coupled in the lives of so many Kenyans. I’ve never encountered such gratitude as I have with the people of this land. No matter how small or great the gift was they expressed such thankfulness. As far as sacrifice goes, do you realize how humbling it is to come to a land where people who have so very little still make so many sacrifices for others? These aren’t just ‘Oh, I’ll skip my double latte so I can put an extra $5 in the offering plate’ type sacrifices. These are sacrifices that affect those who offer them every single day.
Take Boaz for instance. He and his wife have taken in so many orphans that they now have 40 children and counting that they call their own. What is his sacrifice, you ask? Well, it affects his wife, Helen, as well. They sleep on a small mattress in their kitchen every night so that there’s enough room in their home for their children. Coming back to our bedroom in the states, my husband and I couldn’t help but wonder how many orphans would fit in there. Boaz and Helen know sacrifice. They know the value and importance of it. They are grateful for every single provision the Lord makes for them. Boaz is a walking, breathing portrait of obedience and sacrifice.
Then, there are the women of the last church our team helped to build. I didn’t do hardly anything, really. I played with a few children before I went to the near by school. When I returned to the church, it was completely built. There was an elderly woman of the church who came to me and asked what I was going to give her that day. I told her I’d be right back. I ran to the van, frantically, searching for something appropriate to give to a bunch of church ladies. All I had were some plastic cross necklaces that I’d ordered from Oriental Trading for gifts for children. I thought, “Oh, great. They’re going to think this is so cheesy.” But, it was all that I had to give them.
You would have thought I was putting a diamond necklace from Tiffany’s around their sweet necks. They were so grateful. I went to sit down after they had thanked me. The next thing I knew, they had all busted out into a native tongue hallelujah song and were bringing this strange looking, very large fruit to me as a gift of gratitude. It was the size of a watermelon with skin the texture of a cantaloupe. They told me it was a jackfruit. Later that day, I saw the tree; yes TREE that it grew on. I sure wouldn’t want to be sitting under one of those when the jackfruit decided to fall. They sacrificed one of their prized pieces of food in an act of gratefulness. I didn’t deserve it by any means. But they served me with all that they had nevertheless.
These women, along with the women from all the rest of the villages we helped build churches in showed us gratitude and sacrifice after each completion of a church. Once the roof was on, you could be sure that there would be a group of women who would come out of nowhere, only to bring mounds of ugali (a wet corn bread dish), beef, chicken, kale, and rice. It never failed. How do these women know how to show gratitude and welcome to strangers? Well, I’d say that it’s similar to how women of the South in the US greet strangers…they fill people’s bellies with their best recipes. The difference between those two groups of women is that the beautiful ladies of Kenya don’t have the fully stocked pantries like the Southern Belles do. They just have what they grow or slaughter. No matter how successful their crop may have been, they shared what they had because they were grateful.
Another instance of gratitude that I saw was in that of a Muslim Headmaster. We were so thankful for the opportunity to get to share the gospel with his school children. At first we were surprised that he would even let us do so once we found out he was of the Islam faith. He looked us in the eyes and told us that even though he was a Muslim, he knew we had knowledge that we could pass along to his children. So, we did. We passed along the knowledge of Jesus Christ with joy to these school children.
When we went to thank the headmaster for allowing us to come, we were able to give him a bag full of gifts like crayons, paper plates, little cross mazes, and a soccer ball. Sitting on top, there was one of our “Smile, Jesus Loves You” beach balls. We were able to share Christ with him in a very basic form by pointing to that beach ball and telling him that we came to tell him that He can have hope like we have and that he can smile, because Jesus loves him too. We gave him the bag and told him that we hoped we would see him again in Heaven some day. Though stunned that a woman was even speaking to him so boldly and of all subjects- Christ, he looked us in the eyes and thanked us. My husband lagged behind to just watch him a little bit. He saw him grab the bag and go skipping and humming across the way to the teachers’ lounge to show them the gifts for the children he had just received. We could see his gratitude through the pep in his step.
Lastly, there was an old woman that we had heard a story of as we were approaching her town. She had been born cripple. Some time before our group came on this particular trip, the organization we were with had come to her town to build a church. She had gotten wind of this and crawled on her hands and knees for two miles simply to tell Phil, the leader of the organization, ‘thank you’ and turn around crawl back home. She had prayed for years that a church would be built in her town. Now, in just one day, it had been built.
We went to this same church, which now had walls and even a concrete floor, and had a program to feed orphans and widows three times a week. She came in while we were there. This time, she had a wheel chair. Yet, it had no seat. She was sitting on the bar of the chair precariously. That same look of gratitude that must have been there the day she crawled on her hands and knees was still on her sweet, wrinkled up face. The expression on her face surely must have resembled that of the one man out of ten that Jesus healed of Leprosy in Luke 17. When I think of gratitude, it’s her face that I see.
The women who sang the Hallelujah song and brought me the jackfruit
My gift of jackfruit
Standing under a Jackfruit Tree
The foot path to the school where the Muslim headmaster welcomed us
Women eagerly bringing food to us. That's ugali (wet corn bread mixture)
The face of gratitude.
THE IMPORTANCE OF EDUCATION
It’s a shame that I graduated from college nearly five years ago, yet I took the fact that it was a right for me to be educated for granted. I think a lot of western students do the same. I had heard the statistics before that if you were in college, you were part of the 1% or 2% of the wealthiest people in the world. Certainly, I appreciated my education when I was in college. Yet, did I sleep through a few classes or cut them occasionally for a movie? Yes, sadly, I did.
In Kenya, education is a privilege, not a right- especially after the eighth grade. While visiting with our friends, the Muttais, in Kitale, we were watching the evening news. The topic of education rose in the broadcast. Eighth graders are required to take a standardized test every year to determine whether or not they will be allowed to go to high school. Yes, not just college, high school. A quarter of a million eighth graders are not going to high school next year. The newscasters responded to this by posting a poll for viewers to vote, “Do you think there is a problem in the education system? Yes or No.” Obviously, the answer is yes.
The Muttais run a Christian school, Legacy Schools, for children approximately 3 years old- 8th grade. They host seventh and eighth grade boarders on their campus. The motto of the school, you ask? “The Very Best.” After visiting many schools around the country of Kenya, I can honestly say that Legacy is indeed the very best that we witnessed.
Their high level of expectations start outside of the classrooms. The school has it's own barbershop and tailor shop so that the students have no excuse but to look their best. They also have a school supply shop, so the students can purchase any basic school supplies they might need. Lastly, painted along the perimeter of the building are scripture verses from all throughout the Bible. It was not uncommon for us to hear whole assemblies reciting scripture together. I couldn’t help but reflect upon Deuteronomy 6:4-9,
Hear, O Israel: The LORD our God, the LORD is one. Love the LORD your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength. These commandments that I give you today are to be on your hearts. Impress them on your children. Talk about them when you sit at home and when you walk along the road, when you lie down and when you get up. Tie them as symbols on your hands and bind them on your foreheads. Write them on the doorframes of your houses and on your gates. “
These students are taught how to love the Lord with all their heart, soul, and mind. If ever they forget the most important things they are learning, all they have to do is look at the buildings and they will see God’s word is there for all the rest of the world to see as well.
This overflows into how courteous and respectful these children are. Anytime we entered a classroom or assembly, they always responded in unison, “Good Morning, Madam. Good Morning, Sir. How are you today?” When passing students along the sidewalk or the soccer field, they would stop dead in their tracks to put their left arm across their right elbow, shake our hand, and either courtesy or bow. It’s hard enough to even get eye contact in the states from students this age. They made it a point to welcome their guests and be as polite as could be to their elders. (Not that we were even that elderly at 25 and 26 years old!)
Not only are they taught to be the very best outside of the classroom, they are taught the same values inside the classroom. Every time we would peak our heads into a classroom, we saw attentive, respectful children. Surrounding their desks were walls with various lessons on either chalkboards or poster boards. We’re talking diagrams of lungs, history of British colonization, arithmetic, and even verb tenses.
I don’t really know what I expected to see in Kenyan Classrooms. I know I did not expect to see so much depth of learning, though. Though the rest of the country is struggling, Legacy Schools is excelling in providing the best education possible to their students, all while teaching through a Biblical worldview. Their eighth graders have a high passing percentage rate and a majority of them are permitted to go to state funded high schools. (Private high schools are not permitted to exist my understanding).
While in Kenya, David’s and my primary task was to minister to schoolchildren. Our usual routine was that we would tell the story of Noah and then have the children draw pictures of what they had just heard. Even the very first classroom full of first and second graders near Chavakali had us astounded. We could tell how well they listened by the details in their drawing. Though we had only alluded to the fact that every human died except for Noah and his family, we saw several drawings with bodies of people floating in the water after God had shut the ark door. Talk about filling in the blanks! Their attention spans seemed much longer than those of the children in western culture. Maybe we don’t give our children enough of a chance to be patient here.
Our last evening with Legacy Schools, we were able to do some fun, yet educational things with the seventh and eighth grade boarders. This group of students goes to school from 8 AM-9PM, so a break in the normal routine was more than welcome. We did the normal Noah’s ark/drawing routine, which was a lot of fun since we made it a competition. The most fun was when we divided the entire room into teams and selected a small representation of five students from each side to answer questions for Bible Jeopardy. Somehow, we missed the memo that the students sat boys on one side of the room and girls on the other. Oh, that made it way more fun!
When I had written the questions out for Bible Jeopardy, David said, “Emily, you’ve got to remember that these are African kids. You’re making these questions way too complicated.” Resolved to give them a challenge, I kept my questions. Those students knew every single answer! For our Final Jeopardy Question, I was looking for a simple answer of, “Heaven,” when I asked the question, “Where is Jesus’ body?” One girl from the girls’ team about waived her arm off because she was so excited to say in her precious African-British accent, “At the right hand of the Father!!!” Yeah, these kids are getting an in- depth Biblical education on top of their basic education.
I tell these stories not just to brag on Kenyan schools. Obviously, many of them have issues that need resolutions based on the statistics for how many are allowed to go to high school. I chose to highlight Legacy Schools to share what hope there is for children yet in Kenya. They certainly can’t do it on their own. It takes many people and resources to keep the school going. They have immediate needs such as the extension of the boys’ dorm, a new generator, and more books for their school library. This is a prime example of a partnership that can truly make a difference for the people of Africa and most importantly for the Kingdom of Christ. Some of those children might be the ones who discover the cures for diseases, some may rally their country to healthy political standpoints, some may be mothers, some may be pastors, and all have the potential to disciple others to follow Christ after they have. They have got to have prayer as well as financial support. Wouldn’t it be a shame if just $3500 for a new addition to a dorm that would house over 100 male students prevented the next president of Kenya from receiving a world-class education through the lens of scripture? We can make a difference beyond our borders.
Noah's Ark Drawings after hearing the story
Presenting the gospel to students through the Evangecube
with Joseph, my wonderful translator at my side
Walking School Children home for lunch.
Legacy Schools...The Very Best!
The Muttai Family...Legacy Schools was their family's dream.
God has brought over 900 students to the school in just 10 years.
LISTENING TO THE LOCALS
While staying with the Muttais in Kitale, we had an awesome cross-cultural experience. It wasn’t an earth shattering experience like participating in some tribal ritual or something. It was just a conversation on the graduate bench at Legacy Service Station with a local man named Joe.
We sat there for a few minutes sipping on our Orange Fantas, when all of the sudden the man next to us started conversing with us. Surprised, we welcomed the conversation. He lived a couple miles down the road and had his own farm. He sold lumber by trade. He was a Christ follower like us.
We talked about everything from Michael Jordan to Michael Jackson, to once German occupied Africa to once British occupied Africa, Southern Drawls to British Proper Speech, and how people like “Bush” got their family names.
He even explained how the African Inland Church began. It was started when American Baptists came over to Africa. They were called African Inland Missionaries and the people of the land decided- why not have a church too? (African Inland Missions- AIM still exists today!).
The thing that stood out the most to us with him was his love for people. We were talking about the differences between Americans and British. Mainly we were in this discussion because he was commenting on how different our accents and pace of speech was from his British-colony inherited way of speaking. Yet, he found Americans to be more friendly and down to earth than British. However, he made it quite clear that he likes all people- it’s just that everyone has different ways of presenting himself or herself.
I thought about Joe, who was far from dull and ignorant, as I read a poster hanging on the back of a door at the Muttai’s home from Old St. Paul’s Cathedral in Boston…
“…Go placidly amid the noise and the haste,
and remember what peace there may be in silence. As far as possible, without surrender,
be on good terms with all persons.
Speak your truth quietly and clearly;
and listen to others,
even to the dull and the ignorant;
they too have their story.”
I learned that if you want to have a better understanding of a place, sit and chat with the locals. We all have a unique story that is part of His story. Here I was sitting with a man I had never met; yet he was sharing his perceptions on the world. I feel like I got the rare opportunity in that moment to be a fly on the wall in someone else’s mind.
David and Joe on the Graduate Bench at Legacy Service Station
What a great observation point for local activity. Our hotel in Bumala was right behind the only gas station in the area.
FAMILY
I have always believed that God is colorblind. I had never seen it more beautifully displayed than in the welcome hearts of the Kenyan pastors with whom we worked. Never will I forget the message of thanks Pastor Washington shared in the first church building that was completed on our trip. He said that he wanted no confusion to be had for who had built this church. They did not build it. His new friends from the States did not build it. God built it. “Even though our skin is black and their skin is white…we are brothers and sisters because of the blood of Jesus Christ. It is the same color and it covers us and it covers them.” At that moment, I wished with all of my heart that everyone in America could hear that statement. I am not naïve to neglect that there still is a lot of racial tension in the world- namely America. Yet, here we were on the continent where so much of the racial tension had begun because of shameful, sinful acts of purchasing human beings and selling them as slaves to Americans, and there was peace because we recognized that God does not distinguish between the colors of our skin. He died for us all so that we could have eternal life. His only distinguishing factor is between those who are His and those who are not. Oh, how I wish everyone in the world belonged to Him and He belonged to them.
I learned a lot about family when I met a lady from Washington state named Cate. She came to teach at Legacy Schools in Kitale for seven months. Cate is an Iraqui war widow. She also lost her son shortly after her husband was killed. She has a daughter, son-in-law, and several precious grandchildren living back in the states. While Cate could have sat at home searching for a reason to go on having lost such dear members of her family, she chose to come be a part of the Legacy School family. She lives with Miss Alice, the Muttai’s neighbor and close friend. Alice has taken Cate in as a member of her own family and Cate has committed to helping Alice almost as if she were her own aunt. Cate’s willingness to go to Kenya for such an extended period of time and let God use her- sorrows and all- is already doing so much to help the family of God grow and be encouraged.
There is a bond between believers around the world that cannot be separated. You can’t reject those who join you in sharing the inheritance of the Father. It’s not your choice who He gives new birth to. You’re family no matter how you look at it. When you find others that have graciously been called sons and daughters of God because of the blood of Jesus that has covered their lives, you can’t help but embrace each other and rejoice in the bond of God’s love.
When I listened to Washington at that moment, I think I was finally able to see how God does- with color blindness. I’m so thankful that He didn’t just die for one people group. What if he had only died for his ethnic people? You’d have to admit that most of us would have been left out of the greatest gift that has ever been given, let a lone the greatest story every told.
John 3:16, “For God so loved the WORLD, that He gave His only begotten Son. That whosoever believeth in Him shall not perish, but have everlasting life.”
A bunch of whosoevers stood together underneath that tin roof, rejoicing together over their inheritance from their Father- everlasting life and the forgiveness of their sins.
Washington speaking of the blood of Jesus, which makes us family regardless of our skin color. Maurice (green shirt) translating
Cate and me
Miss Alice and me...we're sisters, can't you tell?
David and our Brother, Willingstone with
his fiance, our sister Benter
A small part of God's family
With our new Pastor friends at the first church
God built on this trip...brothers and sister
covered by the same color blood...from Jesus.
DISCIPLESHIP
I was very impressed with the men I met at the first church building site in Chavakali. They were dressed their best in suits and had come to check out the new construction. They were both key leaders in the regional Baptist convention.
I got into a conversation with them about how people from home could help the most. He told me of many churches that basically just come for a week or two and then leave, never to return or even check in on them. He said that it was great that they came in did these projects, but what their people needed the most was for relationships and partnerships to form so that the Kenyans could get the best training for reproducing more Christ followers. They pleaded with me to tell the folks back home that they needed people to keep up relationships with them by discipling them so they could disciple others.
This school of thought could not be more poignant. While training as a Prayer Leader at Liberty University, I’ll never forget the definition of Discipling I learned from one of the books I read that, “Discipling others is the process by which a Christian with a life worth emulating, commits himself for an extended period of time to a few individuals who have been won to Christ, for the purpose of guiding their spiritual growth to maturity and equipping them to reproduce themselves in a third spiritual generation.”
I firmly believe that evangelism is most successful where there is strong discipleship. God’s kingdom certainly isn’t bound by any formulas of evangelism that man has created. It is very clear what God expects us to do when we go. “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” (Matthew 28:19-20).
It’s not just about going. It’s not about leading people to salvation in Christ and leaving them to fend for themselves. The element that spurs on church growth is discipleship. In the Great Commission, the command to make disciples is reinforced when Jesus specifically says to baptize them in the name of the trinity and to teach them to obey everything He has commanded us. That’s what discipleship is about…disciplining ourselves to follow His commandments. Discipleship is about training.
The Holy Spirit helps us to become new creations by training our minds to take every thought captive to the obedience of Christ and then to put that knowledge into action. How will people know what God’s commands are to them unless there is someone to point them to His word?
That’s what these Kenyans were urging us to partner with them for…to help them be discipled so that they in turn could disciple their own people.
One of the servant-hearted Pastors washing Pastor Duane's hands...
a leader in evangelism and discipleship
Pastor Christopher... He's a disciple that's discipling
FAITH
Faith. I was severely lacking in it. We have been through such a roller coaster this past year with David losing his job, various sicknesses, and a wreck that totaled David’s car to top it off, that I was truly wondering HOW we were going to make it financially.
I needed to go to Kenya so that I could see true faith in action and be challenged beyond my wildest expectations. The truth is, compared to most of the people- ok ALL of the people- I met while there; I would seem to be rich. I almost felt like a millionaire when I returned to my house here in the US. I have way more than just the basic needs that the beautiful people of Kenya have or are in need of.
In Kenya, if you have food, clothing, and shelter you have just about all that you need. If you don’t have those needs, as a believer you pray and truly expect that God will provide for your needs. If He doesn’t provide right away, you keep on praying.
Our friend Steve, who is Kenyan, but has lived extensively in the states made a great point. In the states, people easily replace God. When they don’t have something that they need, rather than turning directly to God, they get a credit card or live on government assistance. America has options. Kenya does not. I think that may just be why the faith of the Christians we met was so vibrant.
There are several instances of raw, unadulterated faith I would like to share.Our friend Boaz, who is a Pastor of 900 people, has one of the greatest testimonies of faith that I have ever encountered. He and his wife, Helen, have 40 children. Yes, that’s right 40. They have 6 natural born and the rest are orphans that have been specifically placed in their lives by God himself. He told us several stories of how they came to him.
One day, he was having a Bible study in his home and it had started without him. He was on his way home, when he received a phone call that an old woman had collapsed in his home and they had put her on his bed to rest and try to recover. By the time he got home, she had died in his bed. Later that evening, 7 children showed up at his home. That was their grandmother. She had told them the night before that if anything ever happened to her, to go to Pastor Boaz’s home because he would take care of him. In one day, he inherited 7 more children.
One girl showed up at his front door in the middle of the night after she had been sexually abused. She asked his wife to come to the door and not to let him see her because she was naked. Boaz has a heart for rescuing girls in Kenya. He is true to his namesake…a kinsman redeemer.
Boaz says, “I don’t know how I can provide for these children. I have no steady income. But God always provides for them. Women who come on missions trips leave behind some clothes and they always fit one of my daughters.”
Every single one of the Kenyan Pastors we worked with to build churches told us that they had been praying for so long that they would have churches to meet in. Much time had passed and they still had no shelter to meet under. Then, all of the sudden, God answered their prayers and performed a miracle when the basic portion of the church was built in just one day. They didn’t know how God would come through with providing their church buildings. But then, He sent a group of strangers, yet family, from a far away land to answer those prayers in just one day. I agree with them. It truly was a miracle.
I remember thinking to myself at the time, “Wow, God. This really is a miracle. Thank you so much for doing this for these people. I know you’ll do a miracle in David’s and my financial situation for providing a job for him too, but I’ll certainly understand if it takes longer.”
Apparently, I was only beginning to understand that our God is mighty enough to perform miracles anywhere and for anyone He chooses to prove himself great. While in Kenya, we literally wondered how we were going to pay for our mortgage and other bills when we returned home. All that we could figure was that David was going to go apply at the local grocery store if he had to.
On the trip home to the States, we stopped in Paris for a day. David checked his email and had received three messages from clients that had jobs waiting for him when he returned home. Just over one week after we returned from Kenya, God blew our minds out of this world when He provided the equivalent to half a year’s salary for us through those job opportunities. We stand amazed at His provision. Now, the challenge rests in our heart for us to have as much faith for Him to provide the other half of the year’s salary that He did for the first half. He will do it because He has promised to provide all of our needs according to His glorious riches in Christ Jesus. We’ve learned a lot about what our needs vs. wants really are this past year- but we learned even more about that in Kenya. That week in January was our miracle week. It is only in Him that we boast. To God be the Glory!
Us with our friend, Pastor Boaz. He lives out
his faith loudly every day.
David and Pastor Maurice in an encouraging faith building moment
WORSHIP
I have always been moved by the lyrics of The Newsboys’ song, “He Reigns.” It’s been an honor to travel to some of the global spots they refer to in this song. Check out the anthem that they sing…
It’s the song of the redeemed Rising from the African plain It’s the song of the forgiven
Drowning out the Amazon rain The song of Asian believers Filled with God’s holy fire
It’s every tribe, every tongue, every nation A love song born of a grateful choir
It’s all God’s children singing Glory, glory, hallelujah He reigns, He reigns
It’s all God’s children singing Glory, glory, hallelujah He reigns, He reigns
Let it rise about the four winds Caught up in the heavenly sound Let praises echo from the towers of cathedrals To the faithful gathered underground Of all the songs sung from the dawn of creation
Some were meant to persist Of all the bells rung from a thousand steeples None rings truer than this And all the powers of darkness Tremble at what they’ve just heard ‘Cause all the powers of darkness Can’t drown out a single word
When all God’s children sing out Glory, glory, hallelujah He reigns, He reigns All God’s people singing Glory, glory, hallelujah He reigns, He reigns
Never before have I heard any song so beautiful as those across the Kenyan plains and hills. Though I don’t know how to pronounce a lot of the words they sang, I can sing along with them in my heart because I know they are songs of gratitude to our Savior for all that He has done.
I remember sitting in the middle of the first church that was built on our trip just circumspectly witnessing the beauty of worship. Were there instruments or elaborate sound systems? No. It was just pure worship overflowing from the hearts of so many grateful souls, including my own- even though I couldn’t sing along. What a glimpse of glory.
As I stood in the safari van across the Masai Mara a few days later, listening to my IPOD mix about Africa, including selections from the Lion King (hey- it was one of the most awesome musical moments of my life!) and The Newsboys’, “He Reigns,” my soul sang loudly to the Lord, joining in with the Asian believers, the towers of cathedrals, the song of the forgiven drowning out the Amazon rain, and of course with the redeemed all across the African plains that yes… HE REIGNS!
Me listening to my Africa Mix on Safari...
It's the sound of the redeemed all accross the African Plains...
Yep. He Reigns.
CONCLUSION
I recently was talking with one of the pastors of our church. We were discussing the desperate needs of many people in Africa. He reminded me that while you can’t change the world, you can change a village. What truth. We have the opportunity to change our world through the power of Christ one village at a time.
When I arrived in Kenya and experienced the culture shock that I did, I think I was experiencing much more than that at the time. I realized what it was when I saw the line of orphans out the door of Pastor Christopher’s church waiting to be fed and sat with one year olds on the dusty floor, watching them eat every bite with precision, so as not to miss one drop of food. Brokeness. That’s what I was feeling. You can watch all the World Vision or Save the Children commercials you want and feel a little sad, maybe even cry a little, but not quite sad enough to do anything about it. But when you’re sitting there among those faces, your heart is moved to brokenness. These beautiful people need food, clothing, and shelter, yes. But they need so much more than that. They need the Father to the Fatherless. They need a defender of orphans and widows. They need to know that they are not forgotten and that their Father has a wonderful plan for their lives to give them Hope through his son, Jesus Christ, and a future.
My prayer is that my heart will not become desensitized as I settle back into my daily routines. I want to help bring Hope to Kenya just as I want to bring Hope to America…one village and one neighborhood at a time…and only through the MIGHTY power of Christ. Will you help join in on that revolution?
Here are some ministries that will help us help them….
You could help with...
Feed A Child – $5/month, Basket Making – $20, Goats for Kids – $50, Sewing Machines $110...
www.churchmissionsnetwork.wordpress.com
Provide library books, Help purchase a new generator, Build a new addition to the boys' dorm... www.legacyschools.org
ONE Last thought about Kenya...
When I look at this photo that David took on our Safari, I'm reminded of Aslan from C.S. Lewis' Chronicles of Narnia. Mr. Beaver put it well..
"Safe? Who said anything about safe? 'Course he isn't safe.
But he's good. He's the King, I tell you."
