My Final Journal Entry

An ancient fable relates the tale of a group of blind men upon their first encounter with an elephant. Having heard of an elephant before but not knowing anything about them, these men are given the opportunity to feel the creature in order to know what it is. In this story (which has been told by countless people groups on multiple continents for over a thousand years) a string of 3 to 6 blind men each approach the elephant one at a time, grabbing different parts of the animal.

One, having felt the side of the animal, claims with certainty that an elephant is some form of wall. Another adamantly disagrees with him claiming the elephant is some kind of tree, having wrapped his arms around the animal's leg. A third chimes in stating that it must be some form of farming equipment, like a plow. He, of course, had felt the tusk. Yet another still claims they are all fools stating this is nothing more than a kind of snake, all the while wrestling with the elephants trunk.

Term in Review: 5 biggest lessons learned

I needed this post.

I had a lot of fun choosing my 5 most entertaining posts for last week's Term in Review, but I needed to work through this week's post. It was medicine for my soul.

Recently, I mentioned my lack of excitement about returning to the States, and as that time has quickly approached, I have found myself running a gamut of emotions. Sometimes it is the dread of returning to the world from which I came and being disappointed with what I find. At other moments it is hurt at leaving a life created here, saying goodbye to friends and people who have now become family.

But sifting through this next portion of my Term in Review, I finally found a little perspective.

On Moralism

The following is a reaction to a post by Dr. Ray Van Neste on his blog, Oversight of Souls. Read that post first.

I came to Africa to share the gospel with moralists. In reality, I believe that term embodies the worldview of the people here.

These people are a very religious people. They believe in one, almighty God who is in control of everything. They believe in a holy book that tells them how to live. However, this holy book is merely a big list of morals. From cover to cover, it lays out long lists of sins and long lists of noble deeds.

These people live their life trying to do the good things in the book and avoid the bad things. That is the extent of their spiritual existence, following rules. To be moral, as defined by their holy book, is the ultimate aim of their religion.

However, it must be said that you do not have to cross an ocean to find someone with this worldview. As a matter of fact, they may be sitting on your pew next Sunday.

Cow training - Part 2

If you are perhaps thinking, “Wait, didn’t he give us the Aha moment from the cow training thing like two days ago?” then you feel the same way I did.

This lesson was a double whammy. Right when I thought this little visual demonstration had provided the extent of its enlightenment, I was blindsided with one more unexpected sucker punch of awesomeness.

This is how it went down:

Cow training - Part 1

I like Aha moments.

Aha moments are those little points in time when the proverbial light bulb goes off and some previously known factoid gains new, deeper meaning. What first existed merely as meaningless trivia sprouts and grows into a three dimensional reality. Needless to say, my two years in Africa have presented me with more than a couple of Aha moments. * Life is lived in such a way here that many points of contact still exist with the biblical culture.

I had one such incident this week.

The message of the cross - Part 2

Before you even attempt to read this post, I would suggest you read Part 1. 

Desensitized.

It is a word that gets tossed around a lot in western culture now. We talk about being desensitized to violence or sex in movies. We talk about how children in our society see so much filth they do not really grasp that what they see on television is, in fact, fake. In a country where it was once wrong for Lucy and Ricky to be in the same bed on television, it has now become the norm to hear about sex scandals from members of the Mickey Mouse Club (with plenty of internet pictures and video to accompany). Even video games can acquire a “mature” rating. Skin is everywhere and most of us have seen so many people get shot on television we could fill a stadium with the “dead bodies.” 

Is it true? Can people see or hear something so much that it loses its significance?

I found the answer to that question last week.

The message of the cross - Part 1

We were running late, and I was mad.

However, the object of my frustration was none other than myself. We had a couple of errands to run before we left for the village, and I had, yet again, grossly underestimated the amount of time it takes to get even little tasks done in Africa. So, I found myself wanting to swear as I tied pieces of lumber to the top of our truck.

Confessions of a 29-year-old

Keep in mind, I am an only child.

As a child, my birthdays were a big deal. I can remember lamenting the fact that birthdays only came once a year. It and Christmas were the two events that marked my year. My parents (being of the over-generous, prone to spoiling stock) had me thoroughly convinced I was, in fact, the center of the universe. Life revolved around me, and it was these two events that proved such.

On endurance

The New Testament writers would have been college football fans. Now, I cannot be certain of this, but I believe my theory holds water. Take into account their writing. Letter after letter is filled with references to teamwork, athleticism, and putting on your armor for battle. It just makes sense. Imagine, Peter and Paul arguing about the BCS over a bowl a cheese dip.

The Lone Ranger syndrome

Like most days, it was hot and the sun was beating down. Our little group was huddled in the shade provided by a small patch of shrubs, waiting for the event.

A small string of participants waded off into the water, signifying the death of an old life and resurrection into a new one. One after the other, they were buried, and raised to walk in a new life.

We watched victory that day.

It was victory over sin. It was victory over death and hell. It was a victory purchased not by the might of those in the water, but by the gift they had accepted. But for all of my joy that day, there was a lingering fear in my mind. “At least there is a group of them,” I thought to myself.

They emerged out of the water to smiles and hugs, but what then? They would return home, to their own village and families, to a world that hates what they did. But as a group, they could survive. As a group, they could support each other in their suffering. Where one believer would get cut down, this handful could stand firm despite persecution. They could be unified, one body.

They could be a church.

Would Jesus wear Chacos?

If you ask any number of youth ministers, trying to prove to their kids that you can still be cool and live a Godly life, the answer would be, “Of course he would, along with his North Face jacket and one of those cool KAVU visors.” However, Joel Olsteen would probably disagree and say that Jesus would definitely be sporting a snazzy hair cut and a million dollar smile.

Learning to learn

Have you ever noticed the similarities between a lower case “r” and “s”? Or for that matter, have you considered the fact that an “h” is really just an “n” with a tall back?

Yeah, neither had I, until a couple of weeks ago.

The best-laid plans...

“The best-laid plans of mice and men, often go awry...”

The phrase is an adaptation of a line from a poem by Robert Burns entitled, To a Mouse. It is an age-old adage, and it is quite true. No matter how hard we try, no matter how careful we plan, things do not always turn out the way we expect them to.

Several months ago, some colleagues and I were traveling to a bordering country to join fellow laborers for a celebration of their ministry. On our way back through a particular town along the border, we decided to stop and pay a visit to an old friend of my colleagues. This friend was a long-time believer and had grown up in the town where we all reside, but she had moved to that country after marrying. Her husband was not a believer, but she had remained in the faith. (Remember marriage works very different in the culture here.)

Our desire was to pay a quick and quiet visit simply for the purpose of greeting and encouragement. However, having no clue where she lived, we began asking around in the town market for anyone who knew this lady. What started as a nice idea to drop in and pay a visit began to gather quite a crowd of on-lookers. You could imagine a carload full of white people pulling up in the middle of the market and trying to find someone caused considerable speculation. It was obvious that some were simply reluctant to let us know where this lady was because they did not know why we wanted to see her. Others were running around trying to find her. Our little plan began to boil over into a fiasco. Eventually, someone from the market had found our friend and we were able to pay our visit, but only after causing a tremendous scene. Needless to say, everyone in town now knew that our friend was in cahoots with the white Christians.

It was not until this past week that we learned the true outcome of all our commotion.

Last week, this friend stopped by our house for a visit. She was staying with family here in town. During her stay she informed us of all the happenings in her life since that last visit. True to speculation, we had called quite a bit of attention to ourselves and in the process our friend. It seems everyone in town wanted to know why the white folk wanted to see her.

So, she told them.

She explained how she knew these white people, and why the white people were here. She told of Jesus and the message of the gospel. She expressed her faith to many people through the process. God gave her a platform in our messed up plans. Further still, she told us of her husband's recent interest in her faith due to our visit. He is now studying and fellowshipping with other believers in their town. He has been attending their church. Please pray for his salvation.

I am reminded of a story from God's Word. It is one most of us learned in Sunday school. (And if you are as old as I am, you probably saw the story play out on flannelgraph.)

Joseph had a bunch of brothers, and he did a pretty good job of making them hate him. Now for certain, I do not know the spirit in which Joseph shared his dreams with his brothers. He may have intended no haughtiness whatsoever, but whatever the case, he managed to offend. His offense was so severe they sought to kill him, and they got pretty close. In a moment of pity, they chose to throw him down a well instead.

From that point forward, Joseph was sold into slavery, sent to Egypt, accused of attempted rape and adultery and thrown in jail for years. My assumption is that none of this was on his ten year plan. Joseph, who, according to his dreams, had plans of success, wound up in quite a few unforeseen circumstances. Yet, in the end God's purpose was met, and Israel was saved under Joseph's leadership. (It is a good story, you should read it sometime: Genesis 37-47)

“The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry...”

As I write this, I write as one whose plans have gone awry. I was supposed to be traveling today. A team of volunteers from my home church was scheduled to arrive for work here. My plans were to once again cross the border into our neighboring country and pick them up for work, but their flights were cancelled. In speaking to members of the team about the mishap, it was blamed on “fog and incompetence.” Thank you Memphis International Airport.

Months of planning and preparation have gone into this work, and it seems as though it may all be for naught. More importantly, the work of discipleship and evangelism that was going to take place seems jeopardized.

“The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry...”

Thankfully, we serve neither mouse nor man.

We serve the one who brings order to the cosmos and the one who spoke it into existence. He is over all and in control of all, and his mighty acts will always go according to plan. Nothing can thwart the purposes of God. All of history has been written by his hand, and it has all gone according to plan. There have been no accidental slip-ups. There was never a surprise to catch him off guard. There is no plan B, because he needs no contingency. Furthermore, it will continue to move forward as God has planned since before the beginning of time, and it will end just as he has already told us, with a multitude from every tribe, tongue and nation surrounding the throne of glory singing praises to the Lamb of God.

Our plans often go awry, but rest in the fact that God's plans do not. And, as always, Father knows best.

On gift-giving - Part 4

About six months ago, I was given a turtle. It was a regular, garden variety turtle. This turtle had no special talents or abilities. It had no value, except that it was a gift.

It was given to me by a man with whom I have developed a significant friendship this past year. Let us pretend his name is Paco. A couple of months after moving here, I met Paco in one of the villages out in the bush where I was doing my language study. Early on, we would meet to study scripture and eventually he became a part of our fellowship.

On one of his visits to our town for discipleship, Paco showed up at my house with this turtle. He had found it in the bush, and instead of leaving it for his kids to play with, he thought I would enjoy it. So, he chose to bring it to me.

Now, to be certain, I am not much of a pet person. The closest thing I have had to a pet in recent years was an abandoned goldfish. So, you can imagine, I had no desire to raise a turtle, especially in Africa. Yet there I was, being given a turtle. The next thing I knew, Donatello was being placed in the lemongrass in front of my house to stalk insect prey. He was introduced to his new home.

Gift-giving is a ritual. Like many other social institutions, such as a hand shake, a greeting, or a kiss, gift-giving is ritualistic in nature. Now, I am not saying it is mechanical, as in done without feeling or thought. Instead, my point is that it has cultural weight and is done with purpose in mind. Perhaps its purpose is to strengthen a relationship. Perhaps it is used to show the value of the recipient in the eyes of the giver. Perhaps it is a way of saying you are sorry for wrongs committed. However, in each of these instances, gift-giving is an established cultural action that is used to communicate an idea. In that sense, it is a ritual.

Where I live now, there is a high value put on gift-giving. It is a strong cultural symbol in this part of West Africa. In an earlier post, I mentioned that gifts here often times cannot be measured with a monetary value. Truly, a gift's value is measured by its sacrifice.

Yet, there is an important aspect of gift-giving that must be discussed. For this ritual to be complete, a gift must not only be given but also accepted. The responsibility for this act does not rely solely on the giver. This is a truth that is laid bare in the culture of West Africa. Had I refused Paco's turtle, the ritual would have been broken and the relationship potentially damaged.

However, the point of this post is not a turtle.

During the Christmas season, we celebrate a far more significant gift. We celebrate the gift of new life. I am intentional in my wording. For we do not simply celebrate some religious holiday. We say we celebrate the birth of a savior, but it is not merely his birth we celebrate. It is salvation itself.

Yes the Word became flesh, and Christ was born a man. But we must not stop at simply celebrating the act, we must also celebrate why Christ lowered himself to this position. It prepared a way for those of us who had none. It gave us escape from our self-inflicted destruction. The real gift of Christmas is the gift of new life. Christ came and sacrificed himself that we may have life and have it abundantly.

Yet, celebrating a gift of this magnitude cannot be done with a wreath or a tree. It cannot be done by mimicking the act with gift-giving. It cannot even be celebrated by paying ceremonial homage with services and songs.

No, the only way to celebrate a gift this significant is to accept it.

Acknowledging the gift is not enough. Lip service to the idea is no more accepting of the gift than those who utterly reject Christ's existence. We hear phrases like, “Jesus is the reason for the season.” But concocting some rhyme and sticking it in your front yard with your Christmas lights or in your Facebook status is by no means acceptance. It may make you feel better, but a gift never used is a gift never accepted.

The only way to accept a new life is to walk in it.

Merry Christmas.

On gift-giving - Part 3

I believe people mean well enough, when it comes to gift-giving that is. However, it is ritual in America, especially around Christmas time. No longer is gift-giving a nice gesture. Instead, the tradition has become an obligation during this season of the year. It seems to me this shift in the essence of gift-giving has possibly changed the reasoning behind the act. The question is thus raised, “Why do you give gifts?”

Following is a list of the reasons, at least in my experience, why people give gifts during the Christmas season. While the list is not exhaustive, the reasons are thus:

• Reciprocity – Chalk this one up to guilt. Someone got you something real nice, and now you feel a need to return the favor. It may have been an early surprise you found on your desk at work a week before Christmas. “Oh thank you!” you will say. Followed by, “Your's is on its way, I just haven't got them all wrapped yet. I'm such a procrastinator!” This person, of course, was not on your list to start with but has now found a prominent spot.
• Preemptive strike – Akin to the above reason, the preemptive strike is the reverse. The desire is to suck up to someone from which you would like to later receive a benefit. This is the tried and true “apple on the teacher's desk” bit and is often used with bosses and or other people from whom you may be able to glean something in the future. You are the person in the first scenario who left the gift on the desk a week before Christmas.
• To impress someone – While this is similar to the preemptive strike, there are certain nuances that make this reason for gift-giving a different category. The real reason behind this gift is not to receive a tangible benefit in return. Instead, it is designed to change the recipient's opinion of the giver. Most often, this seems to take shape in one of two forms. First is the desire to flaunt one's wealth. This is also known as buying one's friends.
  A lesser talked about use of this tactic is found in high schools and on college campuses everywhere. Most often used on Valentine's Day (however not unheard of at Christmas), this tactic is used to woo someone of the opposite sex. You may have met her in the book stacks of the library, or perhaps she sits two rows over in one of your classes. Nonetheless, she is the most beautiful creature you have ever seen, and, knowing your own limitations in the looks department, you feel the need to even the odds somehow. Unfortunately for you, a box of chocolates rarely does the trick.
• Unloading – Most of us have too much stuff and, honestly, most of it is junk. Closets across America are full of old knick-knacks that have not seen daylight in years. While rarely used at Christmas, this is still a common reason for gift-giving. If you do not want it, odds are, neither does the person on which you plan to unload it.
• Re-gifting – Unlike the above reason, re-gifting is most often practiced at Christmas. It is that time of year when most everyone around you is receiving gifts. This year, someone will inevitably give you a gift that is akin to the plague. You do not want it, and instead of trashing it, you assign it a far more sinister purpose. You spread the disease. You plan to burden someone else with it, effectively killing two birds with one stone. You have ridden yourself of said gift, and marked one more person off the shopping list. Therefore, it winds up rewrapped. You make sure not to open the actual packaging, so as to give the impression you purchased it for the unlucky victim of this transaction.
• Hints through gifting – Gifts given for this reason turn the ritual into a platform for communicating an idea. A case example is buying your wife a workout video for Christmas. Or, in the reverse, buying your man some Rogaine. Often used in order to lesson the sting of an unpleasant statement, this usually winds up backfiring.
• Shadow gifting - The most diabolical of all gift-giving reasons, this one can only be pulled off in very specific circumstances. First, the recipient has to be of close relation to you. For instance, this can be used with a spouse, sibling, parent, or possibly your own child. However, outside of that circle it is a challenge to use. The scenario goes as follows: The giver really wants a new gadget of some form, perhaps a particular piece of technology or a new appliance for the household. Instead of using their money to purchase the item for themselves, they take a much lower road. They buy it for another member of the family, in essence, putting it in close enough association with themselves to use it whenever they would like. Many wives have been bought fishing poles for this exact reason.

After examining personal reasons for gift-giving, perhaps it would be helpful to examine the reason why gift-giving is part of our Christmas celebration.

Many claim the origins of the Christmas holiday season predate Christianity, finding its roots in pagan ceremony and celebration. Examples cited to back this theory are plethora and include symbols like Christmas trees, many of our decorations, and even gift-giving itself.

Truthfully, they may be right. Much of what we do on this holiday may have found its roots in winter festivals and celebrations to pagan deities. Nevertheless, the only reason I mention this is to say that I do not really care if its earliest origins paid homage to a myth of the Roman pantheon. When the true king of the world was born, those who worshipped him chose a day to celebrate. At the advent of Jesus Christ, Romans may have given gifts in the name of Saturn. However, with the establishment of Christmas, an old tradition was given an entirely new meaning. Like every other aspect of life, an empty, fallen invention of man was given true meaning by the birth of a savior.

Christmas is a holiday reborn. It was given a new life.

Whatever the initial reasons for giving gifts on this day, we do it now in remembrance of a gift given. Yet, this precious gift was not given to impress or flaunt the wealth of the one who gave it, despite his matchless riches. It was by no means given in reciprocity as to ones who deserved it. It certainly was not given because it had no value to the giver. To the contrary, it was his only begotten. Our Heavenly Father gave mankind a gift it did not deserve and paid a price far higher than any we could pay.

Furthermore, in love of the Father, Christ gave the gift of sacrifice so that creation could be reconciled to the creator. He, being in the very form of God, did not account this equality a thing to be grasped. No, he humbled himself. Christ sacrificed his position on high, and he became man. He became a servant, an obedient servant to the point of death. He died my death and your death, so that we might live a new life.

On Christmas, we celebrate a holiday reborn. And on Christmas, we celebrate the fact that man can be too.

What am I doing here? Part 3 - The Library

In an attempt to ooh and ahh my readership, I took to the Internet in search of some phrase or anecdote that would clench my introduction to this post. Something that would usher the reader into a state of query; something that is thought-provoking, with a dash of intrigue.

Instead, like so many people preparing a last minute speech for their public speaking class, my adventure spiraled down into the quagmire of looking at famous quotes on the subject of learning. I waded through pithy statements made by the great figures of learning throughout history. Statements by men such as the revered poet, W.B. Yeats, who said, “Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire.” Or the ancient Greek playwright, Euripides, who stated that, “Whoso neglects learning in his youth, loses the past and is dead for the future.”

As noble as these one-liners sound, I truly doubt they do little more than provoke a thought. And when a thought is merely provoked but not acted upon, it is indeed a useless thought.

Therefore, I have settled with the eloquent words of that great bulwark of education, renowned the world over for his mastery of the written word, Dr. Seuss. “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose,” states the man who is partially responsible for my ability to read.

Indeed, potential will always be simply that... potential. Unless it is acted upon.

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The name of our little library means "house of knowledge" in the local language. It is a small building with two or three classrooms, and a couple of bookshelves about halfway full of books. While you may not think it sounds like much,  over the years, the center has been used as an adult literacy center, a tutoring center for students and a ministry center. In the past year, it has received a facelift, as our board has re-approved it as a strategy for outreach.

I mentioned earlier that this town has many students. Being a “state capital,” it is the primary educational center for the whole region. It is one of only a few towns in the region with schools that go all the way through high school. Therefore, thousands of students come live in this town from all the surrounding villages during the school year. They will stay with family that lives here so that they can get an education, yet another reason this town is such a strategic location.

In this part of West Africa, students are not able to have text books. They copy all of the information off of the board everyday and create their own book throughout the year. If they miss information, they have no way of reviewing it. That is one key reason this library is so important. It provides students with the option of actually seeing the textbook for their class. As we have worked on preparations at the library, many students have begun using the center. Day after day, the center is full of students reading materials they have no access to otherwise.

While it is important that these students can get access to learning material, a far more important goal is being accomplished. We are using this as an opportunity to develop relationships with these students, so that we can share with them about the things that really matter. In the past year, we have been able to start studies with several of these students who are interested in more than our textbooks. We also have a regular audience for films, which spawn excellent discussion with the students. In just a couple of weeks, we will be starting English classes with high school students that will use scripture stories as our text.

One of our partnering churches from the States sends college students to work with this center. The results have been promising, as they have built quick relationships with students, several of which of now studying scripture and seeking understanding as a result. This year, we have plans for several volunteer college students to spend an extended time working at the center as semester missionaries.

The exciting reality about our library is that it has a reach far outside of the city. When these students return home to their villages, we will have an impact over the entire region and countless open doors into villages everywhere.

Please pray for the work that God is doing with this tiny little center. Pray that God will continue to provide options for support of this center, and volunteers to meet the spiritual needs of the students here.

What am I doing here? Part 2 - The People

It is amazing how easily the words “they” and “them” become “we” and “us.”

My journey to Africa started a couple of years before I ever stepped foot on the continent. We Baptists as a whole are a pretty missions minded group, so it was no surprise when our church adopted a tribe of people in Africa as a missions focus.

It is funny how that word “adopted” gets thrown around a lot when it comes to missions and evangelism. You hear about churches doing stuff like this all the time back in the States, but usually it really means no more than making sure said adopted group makes it on the weekly prayer bulletin and gets mentioned on occasion as a “focus.” Some churches go further and scrape up some money to send to a missions agency that is working with those people, and a select few will actually do the work necessary to put together a team to at least go and look at the people for which the church is praying. Now, before I offend, I readily assert that each of the aforementioned tasks are necessary to the work of God's kingdom, and I do not mean to belittle any of them. I thank God for churches that will do any of the above, as most simply do nothing at all.

Yet, I hesitate in referring to that as “adoption.” Just ask someone who has adopted a child. Adoption is a commitment of the deepest kind, and one that, in my opinion, is a picture of what God has done for us in our redemption. Adoption is a word that, in its very essence, is relationship based.

On this point, I can brag on my church, because I genuinely think it adopted this people. My being here and writing this is proof of such. God used my church's wholehearted embrace of this tribe to call me to live with them. An idea to adopt this people soon became a mission to reach them and share with them what God had shared with us, his precious son. Trip after trip, our church has come and watched as obedience turned into fruit. It changed the church, and it changed my heart.

I decided to come and began the process of applying with our sending agency. It was a year long process, and the longest application I think I have ever filled out (they actually asked me if I had ever had electro-shock therapy).

But through that whole process this tribe was simply a “they” to me.

As our church talked about our work, it was always with them. As a congregation, we learned about what they do here. We found out that:

• They were a small people group of just over a million people. 
• They were almost exclusively Muslim. 
• They were mostly illiterate. 
• They were primarily all villagers, who still cooked over a fire and lived in a hut. 
• They were farmers and fishermen. 
• They were some of the poorest people in the poorest region of the world. 

And in my mind, I was going to them.

As the application process finished, and I was trained to be a missionary, I was finally put on a plane and sent to the middle of nowhere. I was sent to them.

Honestly, my mindset was no different for the following weeks, and even months. I had met them, and I now lived here with them. And as I observed their culture and customs, I continually found myself baffled by the strange things they did. “Why do they do that?” became my refrain.

• Why do they never go in their houses? 
• Why do they use those little hand hoes instead of a long one to work in the fields? 
• Why do they have four wives? 
• Why do they have so many kids when they are so poor they cannot make ends meet? 

Even the small group of Christians were a “they.” What they called church was so different from anything I had every experienced. I wondered, “Why do they sit on mats?”

I did not notice when it all started to change. It was slow and subtle, but something began to happen. It started first out in the tiny village where I began my stay in this country. I was out there for language study. In that little farming village, I made my first real friendships. Day after day, I lived with these people, worked with these people, talked with these people as I tried to understand who they were. Without realizing it, everything around ceased to be strange. It became life. I learned many lessons about life in a different world. I learned from the old men and the little kids. I even learned lessons from the animals! So many of my questions were answered, and I discovered the reasons behind the “whys.”

Somewhere along the way, my words changed. I no longer speak of them; instead, I usually talk about us. It may be a small change in words, but it is a vast change in mindset. They are no longer some people I am going to work with, they have become friends. We laugh together and we cry together. And those who are part of God's family, are indeed my brothers and sisters. We share a bond that no force can sever.

Things have changed:

• They are no longer staying outside of their houses, but we are sitting outside enjoying the breeze. 
• They are no longer doing some strange service, but we are having church and worshipping our God through prayer. 
• They are no longer chanting strange words, but we are singing praises to God almighty. 

Now, I pray to God for our work here. God is doing many things, and we are busy trying to keep up with him. We are leading Bible studies in surrounding villages. We are working with students in town. We are all meeting together for discipleship training. God is using us, missionaries and the local believers, to build up his kingdom here.



Please pray for us.

What am I doing here? Part 1 - The Town

Somewhere between the end of the pavement and the little village where we were doing our Bible study today, the realization hit me that most people who read this blog really have no idea what I do. Sure, you know that I am a missionary, and you know I am in Africa. However, unless you have been memorizing my posts and reading between the lines, I doubt you have put too many of the details together.

It is high time I rectify this dilemma and share a little about the actual work here. Therefore, the next couple of posts will be dedicated to doing just that. I have been here for over a year now and the work has grown. My plan is to share with you about the different aspects of the work. God is busy in our little corner of the globe, and for those of you who actually pray for our work here, it may be refreshing to get a better picture.

Nestled between a mountain range of sheer rock cliffs to the northeast and low-lying coastal islands to the southwest, is the little town where I live. It is big by the standards of this country, coming in at a whopping 15,000 people. It is also the central town of the region. Think of it as a state capital, because all of the government offices for this region are housed here. However, do not think of nice concrete office buildings or the kind of architecture you usually find in state capitals. Instead, think mud brick houses, dirt paths, and a “downtown” that consists of a open air market made out of shipping containers and stick booths. The town is supposed to receive several hours of electricity daily but rarely does.

The town is home to several schools, a large advantage over most of the surrounding towns and villages. A student can get an education all the way through high school here. Because of that, thousands of students pour into the town every year from outlying villages so that they can receive an education. Totaling around 3500 students, they will stay with relatives for the school year and travel back out to their village during the three month break.

This is where we base our ministry. Most of our work is planned here, and much of it is actually executed here. There is a small core of believers here that have a church. We worship with them and work with them to reach out to the other villages and the people of this community.

As you pray for our work, please remember to pray for this town. Pray for openness as we share the good news of Christ with the people here. Pray for the many students who move into this town each year for studies. Pray for the small church here, that they will grow in their faith and be a city on a hill in this area, so that others may see their good works and glorify our Father.

Next I will share some about the people... more to come.

Time flies...

October 16, 2009
The sun was setting as I looked out the window to my left. Far below me the terrain spread out in all directions. As we made our final descent, I stared out the window at my new home. The golden reflection of the water gave way to green rice fields. The horizon was guarded by ominous mountains that sprang up from the terrain. Sheer rock faces glared back at me in the sunlight, crowned with lush tropical forest on their tops. It was beautiful, but it was foreign.

The hot air hit me in the face as I rounded the corner for the door. My last breath of American air was crisp and cool, a Tennessee Autumn, but this air was heavy and filled my lungs. The darkness closed in around me as I stepped off the airplane.

Despite the large size of my plane, there were almost no passengers headed to my final destination, maybe 20 or 30 at most. The plane was empty. As we unloaded, the tiny crowd made its way across the tarmac and headed to the building they were calling an airport. I followed.

At first, I thought the airport was the only thing in the area, wondering if we were outside the city. As I left for the parking lot with my baggage, I realized we were in the very middle of the city. A capital city of three million people, and there were no lights anywhere. There was no electricity. It is a luxury that only comes to this city a few hours each day.

Overwhelmed, I found myself in a place too foreign for words.

October 16, 2010
The sunlight peeked through my curtains this morning and beckoned my eyes to open. I rolled out of bed knowing I had a long day in front of me. I started my morning off with a cup of coffee and headed to the Lᴐnni Banxi, or “house of knowledge.” That is the name of the little library our mission runs in my sleepy little town. I met with the young man who runs the library, and we talked shop.

School is back in session as of last week and we have many things we must get in order for the opening of the center. As we sat discussing our plans for the students and our center, the schedule began to fill up. Of course, we must have a grand opening for the new school year. Not to mention, we are making plans for two new English courses we will offer to the area students. Our Bible studies will be starting up soon and we have decided to add a monthly fellowship for any Christian students in the city. Finally, we decided a church fellowship centered around a movie, which will have to be shown with a generator and projector, would be a good event to close out the week.

Apart from the center, we made plans for our village evangelism efforts. We are focusing on three villages currently with plans to extend to more. Our local church members are leading discipleship studies in these places with the hopes of planting churches. People are interested, and exciting things are starting to happen.

I finished out this trip with a stop by the carpenter who has been working on some remodeling for our center and discussed some new plans with him.

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Confused and not completely sure why I had come, save the calling of God, I stepped off an airplane a year ago today. I had signed up to stay in the this strange place for two years. My mind was telling me it would be an eternity, and the surroundings began to confirm that fear.

But a lot can happen in a year.

Having my parents visit reminded me of my first weeks in country. My mother's looks of astonishment at the crowds and poverty, my dad's repulsion to the mountains of trash lining the sides of the streets waiting to be burned, these things reminded me of my own reaction of disbelief.

I am not sure when it happened, but somewhere along the way, foreign became familiar. The strange sights, smells, and sounds, no longer grabbed my attention. I stopped noticing all the potholes and started seeing the people.

This past year has been hard at times, but more than that, it has been a gift. God has given me friends I would have never known and lessons I would have never learned, had it not been for his guiding me to this little corner of the globe. I have seen the difference between a “want” and a “need.” I have discovered the value of independence and seen the result of its absence. I have praised God for blessings I previously overlooked, such as a Bible written in my language. And through it all, God has made one thing abundantly clear. No matter how different we are, it is Adam's blood that runs through our veins. Our differences can never outweigh our similarities. We all share a common beginning, and a common end. And we all need a savior.



They really are a beautiful people.

On talking to God

In the last year, I have been invited to a whole lot of events. Perhaps in Africa it is good luck to have the goofy looking, white guy at your celebration, or maybe I am unwittingly part of the entertainment. Think of it like having a chimpanzee at your little kid's birthday party. Let us just say, I stick out. Nevertheless, I have been to house raising ceremonies and parties, baby naming celebrations and funerals, and all kind of events in between.

One thing I have noticed at all of these events has stuck with me. There is a whole lot of talking about God but very little talking to God.

The people where I live are a very religious people. They are almost all practicing Muslims and consider their faith of the utmost importance and inseparable from their identity. (A lesson we in the States could stand to learn from them.) Their days are constantly interrupted by momentary pauses to pull out their prayer mats and their vocabulary is filled with spiritual lingo. Rarely a proposition is made without the predicate, “Xa Ala tin,” or “If God accepts.”

Yet, in the midst of all of this religiosity, I see a people who desperately lack life's greatest joy. Their religion has produced an understanding of God that is so transcendent, he is unreachable. Stuck between the frightening reality of a world they cannot control and a God with whom they have no real connection, these people live in the throws of fatalism. The product is a life lived apart from its real purpose, deep communion with our creator.

They are a people living in abject poverty, sickness, and instability; yet, they are a people with no means of crying out to the only one who has authority over all. They are a people with hurts and pains and no voice. Ultimately, they are a people with no real hope.

This is a truth betrayed in their own prayers. As I sit in the corner, a fly on the wall, at countless ceremonies, I hear the ritualism take place. What ensues is a long string of prayers that really are not prayers at all. They all begin with the words, “Ala xa...” or “May God...”

“May God grant you peace,” “May God give you health,” “May God protect you,” they will say. But they will never talk to God. They do not plead with God himself on the behalf of others. They do not cry out to God asking him directly for his help. They simply pray about God.

My heart is broken for these people who have never tasted of life's deepest joy, a relationship with the one, true and living God. In their darkest moments of despair, they have no rock on which to cling. But we have a firm foundation. He is real, and while it was his words that spoke all into existence, he is closer than our next breath. He is our God, and what is more, he is our Father.

We are unworthy of the love our God has for us. Left to our own devices, we are detestable, but we have a redeemer who stands in our place and a God who loves us as his own. When we are hurt, he knows and he cares. When we need him, he is always there. We can have hope everlasting and joy unspeakable, for we are carried by his strong arms. And when life closes in all around us, we can rest in our power to cry out, “Our Father in heaven,” and know that he will be there.

Oh God, help us to not take this for granted.

       Muxu Baba naxan na ariyanna, 

       duniɲa birin xa i xili sεniyεnxi kolon. 

       I xa mangεya xa fa. I sago xa raba duniɲa ma, 

       alᴐ a rabama ariyanna ki naxε. 

       Baloe fi muxu ma to lᴐxᴐε, muxu hayi na naxan ma. 

       Diɲε muxu xa yunubi ma, 

       alᴐ muxu fan diɲεxi mixie haakε ma ki naxε, 

       naxee bara fe kobi niya muxu ra. 

       I naxa muxu ti maratantanyi kira xᴐn, 

       i xa muxu ratanga Sentanε ma. 

       I tan nan gbe na mangεya, sεnbε, 

       nun binyε, ra abadan. Amina. 

       (Matthew 6:9-13, The Lord's Prayer)