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| Eldoret, Kenya
With the recent lack of affection I'm experiencing, I've awoken empty every morning this month. I have zero energy to socialize or even pray with my team. Three whole days passed without even a chuckle escaping my lips, and everyone knows laughter is my favorite sound.
We've been doing street ministry this week in the Eldoret village; walking house to house asking if the residents know Jesus and if we could pray for them. Not as easy as it sounds, since the Kenyans were very hesitant about random white people coming onto their territory. It was like pulling teeth talking to them and all the while I felt like a Jehovah's Witness standing on their doorstep.
Pastor Williams asked me to street evangelize again the next morning and I had no desire to whatsoever. I felt sick that morning and decided maybe it was best I stay home and rest instead. Yes, that seems logical; I wouldn't want to be stuck in a village without a bathroom while I'm sick! My mind was made up...then God spoke up, "I gave you quiet time this morning and refilled you with My love, and now you won't give that same love to my children?" Talk about conviction. Out the door I went.
I partnered with Mildred and Anock, two Kenyans. The first lady we came to said she wanted to be saved. Mildred asked me to pray for her salvation. My eyes bulged with the ‘deer in headlights' look. I've never prayed with someone to receive Christ! "Don't they know I'm just a crazy white girl with no clue what she's doing?!" I thought. I hesitated and frantically prayed silently that God would give me the right words so I wouldn't screw up this lady's decision at salvation. He came through and His words flowed from my mouth. She finished praying with a smile!
The next family we passed was a 16 year old girl named Beverly and her five younger siblings. Their parents were at work. She was so excited to hear about Jesus and wanted to accept Him on the spot. Again, I was asked to pray with her. I couldn't believe it, I was praying for two salvations in less than thirty minutes! We told Beverly all about Jesus and she eagerly accepted Him. I explained prayer, making sure to describe how it develops into a relationship and that God is her father, friend, and husband. She agreed to return back to high school after winter break and tell all her friends about Jesus.
If I had stayed home sick, Satan would have won. But I, for once, was obedient and look at the fruit because of it! Two women's hearts are now filled with Christ's love and hopefully it will spread to their families and neighbors. Through obedience, my faith and blessings increased. I'm discovering that faith and obedience may go hand in hand after all.
"Why do you call me, ‘Lord, Lord,' and do not do what I say? I will show you what he is like who comes to me and bears my words and puts them into practice. He is like a man building a house, who dug down deep and laid the foundation on rock. When a flood came, the torrent struck that house but could not shake it, because it was well built."
–Luke 6.46-48 | | |
| Being long-legged and then cramped in a bus for 14 hours is anything but fun. I know that we have to make sacrifices for the Kingdom and all, but after a year of sacrificing ample leg room I can only get more frustrated when these opportunities present themselves. Thing is, I had found an awesome seat in the front of the bus where I could stretch my legs out, but the bus driver's helper didn't want me sitting there because apparently I looked too comfortable or something, so he made me sit next to Sarah.
The thing about traveling on buses in foreign countries is that they make you stop a lot. In fact, sometimes I think that they just get bored from driving so they like to pull over and tell everyone that they can have a 20 minute bathroom break in the bushes while you watch them stand outside the bus and smoke a cigarette. After awhile you begin to look through their schemes. Of course we didn't have to go to the restroom because we had done so no more than an hour before. On 14 hour bus rides I, personally, would like to see how fast we can get to our destination. I like to think that we want to break the "14 hour record," especially when I have no leg room... but that's just my selfishness speaking.
We got to the point in the trip to Phnom Penh that the driver decided it was time for us to eat lunch, granted, we had stopped no more than an hour before that. I wasn't smart like some of the other people on the bus and I didn't pack a lunch. This left me with very few options. As I stepped off the bus and into a puddle of mud, I realized that my choices consisted of Pringles and soda from various street vendors. I only had 20 minutes so going into the restaurant nearby was probably not an option. They like to take their time making food in foreign countries... and it's not that they're trying to do it in a sanitary fashion. The FDA would scream at these guys.
So I'm standing there munching on my Loaded Baked Potato Pringles, soda in hand, with about 15 minutes to spare. The rest of the crew was milling about trying to decide what they wanted for lunch from the other 25 flavors of Pringles, because even in other countries it's easy to be overwhelmed with options. So I'm standing there minding my business, looking around, and taking in the scenery of a muddy road, frazzled vendors, and kids everywhere. One thing you can always count on in foreign countries is kids. I think the majority of the world's population consists of children. Unfortunately these were beggars.
I say unfortunately because I have such a heart for beggars, homeless, and the like. As soon these people approach me with open hands in an attempt to get something from me I just cave. This hasn't always been the case, especially up to that point in the year. I had turned countless beggars away out of a calloused heart and false assumptions, but God always has a way of redeeming what we long to give. A little girl, probably no older than ten approached me with a half-hearted smile and open hands asking for some of my Pringles. I kind of smiled at her, grabbed a few Pringles out of my stash, and handed her the can. I hadn't eaten very many and didn't think that they were that good anyway. She smiled brightly and walked away... and as a result, I felt pretty good about myself. I started to walk away when another girl ran up to me and pointed to the Coke can in my hands, then to her mouth. Clearly she wanted some soda and knew that I was the sucker who just gave away my Pringles. I popped the top, took a swig, and then handed her the can. Again, this five year old walked away with a radiant smile.
I don't usually care that I give things up for people like that. It doesn't take much out of me other than a heart and a little bit of willpower. I found my way back over to the bus and I decided to watch them and take in what they were going to do with the chips and soda. I watched the girl with the Pringles can pull out a few chips and then hand the can over to another beggar, this time a man. He took a few chips out, walked the can over to another guy who took a few and did the same thing until they were all gone. And the soda? Yeah – the little girl took a sip, walked it to another person and gave it up; they, in turn, gave it to another person and so on until it was gone.
They shared their blessing.
It's easy to see the lesson here: share your blessings. But I find it more interesting that it's harder for a community of people who live in an affluent society (us) to give things up and share than it is for a community of beggars. They have next to nothing and they're willing to give up a stash of chips or a can of soda in order to see their "family" survive, or at least to have something to fill their stomach with.
Our Church in America needs to learn to share its blessings.
This starts with you and this starts with me. We have a plethora of resources at our fingertips and we have to ask ourselves if we're willing to share it. If we are, how are we going to do it? And once we have all of that figured out, we need to do it. The last step is usually the hardest. What's it going to take for you to invite others into the blessing and then actually let them receive it?
And so I stood there and took all of this in until the bus driver called for us to get back in our seats. I let everyone file on as I took in a last look at this small community of saints – my own family, really. Here was the body of Christ at work, operating as it should be. It's amazing the things out there that tend to captivate us, no matter how large or small. Eventually I found myself walking back down the aisle of the bus thinking of these saints as I folded myself into my seat for another six hours of travel. Isn't God good? | | |
| They came in, boys of all ages. There were a handful of girls, though when you looked in their eyes they looked more like lost, disillusioned bodies than young women. They greeted us down the center aisle, kicking up dirt from the bare ground as they walked. The air was filled with the potent aroma of the industrial glue they tried to conceal in their torn shirts and baggy sleeves. Their hands were gritty when you shook them, and they staggered and swayed as they tried to tell you their name. We took our seats on the thin splintered benches that represented pews, and quieted down. Church was starting. This is Africa...T.I.A. as we say. That means that anything is possible. Anything. Contrasted to China, Africa's atmosphere is that of freedom; freedom to worship, freedom to sing, to dance, to pray. Unfortunately where there is freedom, Satan brings his bag of tricks to bring oppression. Upon our arrival, our contact, Pastor William, told us his story about how God placed his church in the middle of the poor area where all the street children lived. I did not realize until church yesterday that the street children were all that made up his church. It was both encouraging, and heartbreaking. Even though there were about 30 people there, probably 90% of them were high and could barely tell you their names. While they were singing the songs and reciting memory verses, I couldn't help but wonder how much do they actually understand? How much could they when they sniff glue everyday of their lives? Regardless of if they understood words, I knew they understood love, touch, and affection, and that's what I tried to bring. I befriended one young boy, probably around the age of 11 or 12. Sitting next to him I could almost hear his heart crying out for someone to care, and all the while he had his bottle of glue close at hand, always ready to bring comfort, to dull the fact that no one has cared. While I was praying for him, I literally felt like I was in hand-to-hand combat with the enemy for his soul. I felt the lies the enemy was telling him, and I felt his sense of hopelessness. So I prayed freedom. I prayed freedom from the bondage Satan has put in his life, lies about drugs, hunger, and unworthiness. My brother Brandon of team Karis invited everyone to receive Christ and to be free from those lies. My friend ran up to the front and received prayer. One young man even fell over in the Holy Spirit...at least I think it was the Holy Spirit and not the drugs. But thought my friend was eager to receive Christ, he still was not willing to lose the comfort of the glue. I realize a change like that will take time, but there are three weeks here with these boys. God is so ready to move in their hearts. God is ready for them to come into his arms. God is ready to bring them freedom! | | |
| "Will you preach?" My answer was no. I was in a bad mood and the last thing that I wanted or had the ability to do was give a message. Prior to being asked the question I had been having an ongoing gripe session with the Lord. My rant, "God, why the fall of man? " "Why do all of these bad things happen?" "Why do you ask me to lay my hands on the sick and pray for them to be healed when you don't intend to heal them?" I was livid. "God, I've done what you asked. I have stepped out and prayed in "full assurance of what I hoped for" and "believed in what I could not see," but still nothing happened." One of the hardest parts of being an active Christian is the mystery behind seemingly unanswered prayers.
Unfortunately I was the only one available for the preaching task. My answer had now become yes which in turn forced me to go straighten out this argument with the Lord. I gave him all the tough theological questions that people only tempt to answer. I told him over and over, "I want to believe, but what about this..." By the end of the conversation I was brought back to a time in my life when I didn't know God. The memory was specific, The year was 2002 and I was alone in my room sitting on my bed. and My room was lit by the moon that broke through the blinds and seemed to make my purple and white quilt glow. That night I had come to the end of myself. I had done the best I could as commander of my life, in fact I got to do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted to do it. My not-based-on-anything theology was, "Surely God isn't going to send everyone to hell." I really tried to be an honorable girl but even in my best attempts I wasn't able to make decisions that brought me the true joy that I longed for. My will and inner-strength had left me empty.
That night God found me. I gave him all of me and He gave me all of him. Now today, 7 years later, in the midst of my ranting about what I do not have the ability to understand he brought me to the time and place that I could not deny. The day after I gave my life to the Lord I was transformed. The things that mastered my will before suddenly no longer had the same power.
I cannot deny that God is living. My life is my own proof. I can't deny that he gives his children gifts. I know this because he has given me several of them, and he has also taken them away. But what about the parts in the Bible that say "They will lay their hands on the sick and they will recover." How about all of the parables of the lepers getting cleansed and the blind regaining their sight? If that was only for that time period, why do the red letters say, "They will do even greater works than these in the generations to come."
In the midst of my anger, the Lord answered my lament. He showed me the Israelites and how he made them walk through the desert for 40 years when the actual distance was a day's walk. There were times that the Lord withheld food from them just so that they would cry out to him. He needed them to know that he alone would provide for them. From heaven he dropped down manna, these wafer thingies. This was hard for the Israelites because they wanted meat. Even while they were slaves in Egypt, they were able to eat meat. I think it is funny that one of his first descriptions of the promise land, God tells them about the good food that they will eat. I love reading the Old Testament stories because I can really begin to understand the character of God.
He did us a favor and explained why he gave the Israelites manna. It was to see what was in their hearts. Were they going to deny him or turn to other gods? He wanted to see if he could trust them. He had big dreams for the chosen people, and he wanted to know who to chose to be able to accomplish them.
I want in. I want to live out God's DrEaMs! If I have to lay my hands on 100 more people just so he can prove his point to me that it is not by my own power or will but only by his--so be it! I have seen others pray for miraculous healings and salvations. I have stood in a crowd, only feet from a person with a deformed body and with my own eyes I saw God pop an arm back into place. The man of God who prayed for her wasn't special. He was just like me. The girl only got healed because he understood that he had no power within himself to heal her. But the God who created all things was able to do what doctors could not.
Today I stood in a room full of African believers as I preached this message. I preached and then I prophesied over several of them. The same Spirit that hangs with Jesus and the Father hung out with me and we had a ton of fun. The paralyzed lady didn't get healed but she did get filled with the Holy Spirit. Not a bad day.
If there are any people reading this blog who want to know the Lord in this intimate way or want to take their faith to the next level and get filled with the Holy Spirit, please email me or any of my teammates. We love you and thank you so much for all of your encouragement and prayers.
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| Here's a little glimpse of what it is like to live in Africa. You think you know, but you have no idea. - Eldoret is the 4th largest city in Kenya, but the main town is about the size of Farmville, Virginia. Kenya originated as a British colony so the architecture and smells remind me of Colonial Williamsburg. In fact, some of the huts where people live have the same feel as a teepee at Jamestown Settlement; dirt floors, smoky, farm animals grazing in the yard, and chickens fluttering through the living room. - Pastor William lives in a decent sized one story house. There are 3 bathrooms, only one with a western toilet. Hot water is limited and the drains clog everyday. Walls encompass his house, and jagged pieces of glass line the top of the walls to prevent robbers. (Think of the scene in Bourne Ultimatum, where Jason wraps his hands in cloth as he scales the glass topped walls.) - The houses further into the village are one room wooden shacks, with tin roofs and dirt floors. There are no actual doors or windows; just holes with curtains shielding the sun. No running water or electricity. There may be a few stools in the house, a table, and one bed. You may spot an outhouse in the backyard. Many people have gardens with various vegetables, or a small plot of land to keep their goats and chickens.   - There are no stoves, ovens, or refrigerators here. Each morning, we go to the market and buy the food for the day. Cooking eggs for 30 people in the morning takes about 3 hours. We have a small grill, fueled by coals, and a griddle-like pan, large enough to cook one egg at a time. Cooking supper literally takes half the day. We'll start cooking at 3pm and it's not finished until 9pm. These six hours don't produce a Thanksgiving feast like you may assume, just a simple meal of a meat, vegetable, and beans. Because there is only one fire, we have to cook each thing separately and it takes forever. (We are cooking for 30 people in the house, so the average family's meal wouldn't take that long.)
- - Time in Africa is the opposite of American time. When you're told the bus will arrive at 9am, it really means 1pm if you are lucky. Sometimes the bus won't come until the next day! When my team first arrived, we were told to be ready the next morning by 10am. Of course, we're dressed and sitting at the door ready to go right on time and we didn't leave for the next 3 hours. We now know there is no need to rush in Africa. I'm convinced no other nation in the world cares about time except America. It was a hard adjustment at first, but I see how much more relaxed and happy the Kenyans are without the stress of rushing everywhere. - The house is a bit overcrowded. 30 people living in 4 bedrooms. Remember- we racers travel with 50lb packs, which is like another person. Our packs take up plenty of space as well. There is not one free inch of space anywhere. I sleep on the floor between Sharon and Audrey. I wake up with Sharon's arm on my chest and my legs lying over Audrey. This is REAL COMMUNITY!
- Kenya is famous for its Chai Tea, a mix of steamed milk, spices, and tea. They drink it for breakfast and at their 4pm tea & biscuit hour each day. (Notice the British influence?) Quite delicious, until I discovered today it contains nicotine! No more chai for me. - Kenyans LOVE to dance. The first sound of music, everyone drops what they are doing and boogies down. We've had a dance party before supper almost every night. I'm learning all these awesome African moves; these people can groove! - Kenyans also love music. They are always playing the electric keyboard in the house. Their favorite music is a weird mix between Caribbean beats, 80's electronica, and worship songs. - Kenyans work hard each day of their life. Whether it be plowing the fields, raising children, or just cooking all the meals; their day starts around 7am and doesn't finish until 11pm-midnight. The men and women are equally strong. Children past the age of ten no longer have a childhood. They're left to watch the younger siblings and help with chores when not in school. - I feel as if I'm in a time warp, transported back to the 18th century. Life moves so much slower here than America and their tools sometimes seem primitive to me. I'm quite amazed that in a mere 400 years America is the leading nation of the world, when Africa has been around for thousands and is still struggling to get running water.
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