I suppose by the time most of you read this, I’ll probably be on the flight to my U.S. home. This will be the last letter I write to you as a member of the Kenya 2010 team. In the recent visits to the Karen Orphanage, I have often found myself wandering aimlessly around the property, trying to cope with emotions I don’t know how to understand yet. It's in the air for us all at the Karen property, I suppose: yesterday (Saturday), the girls' outgoing "ambassador" to us, Fridah, was unusually quiet and distant; little, playful Irene was even more "huggy" and attached to us; several of the girls, including Emmaculate and Lucy, inquired as to whether we'd be able to see their D.V.B.S. (Daily Vacation Bible School) performance at church today (which we did).
I grew up with one older brother, and I've never really known what it's like to have a sister - let alone 23. As we made our round of farewells for today, Fridah assured me of something that touches me deeply - I'm not the only one that gained siblings on this trip, but that all the girls feel that Jordan and I are now family as well. As Tom Clinton, director of First Love, told Jordan and I in passing, the Karen property has become a place for the girls to break through class barriers, race barriers, self-esteem barriers, etc. It's a place for them not only to be kids for the first time in their lives, but to also have the Christian way of life enforced by making the words of Paul a practical reality - "There is neither Jew nor Greek, slave nor free, male nor female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus" (Galatians 3:28). It doesn’t matter that we’re older, and it doesn’t matter that we’re “rich, white Americans” (of which, I’m neither rich nor white). We play a game of football (as in soccer), and there’s nothing keeping anyone from inclusion. We're literally one big, happy family. Isn’t that how the Body of Christ is supposed to be?
I have someone's testimony to share with you. Despite personally receiving her permission to share her story in complete detail, I shall codename her Amana – a Hebrew name that means "faithful". This is rather fitting for someone who has been through all that she has, yet still praises the Lord for His goodness. Amana accepted Jesus into her life when she was 12 years old, understanding her great need for Him.
Before coming to Nairobi (and being saved), Amana came from Upcountry in Kenya, where life was both simple and hard. She told me about many childhood experiences of having nothing to eat. She told me about having no use of electricity unless one walked to town. She told me about gathering water from a nearby stream to boil for cooking or drinking. She told me about the community, where everyone knows everyone.
Amana told me about the time she was so hungry that she had gone and stolen some potatoes for her family from a neighbor’s crops, only to have her mother physically discipline her. The mother then returned every last potato to the neighbor and apologized on behalf of the family. She and the entire family remained hungry that night.
Amana told me about how she began working as a house girl in order to help support her family after her father’s passing. She told me about how it was especially necessary, since the deceased father’s debt prompted the bank he’d borrowed from to come and take all of her family’s land from them as payment. She told me about how she’d been a house girl for three different families, none without their issues. She told me about how she was raped by the father in the second family at age 19. She then told me that she was to abort it, under orders from the father. And she told me that, thankfully, she refused and escaped from that family.
When the baby was born, Amana was only able to be with him consistently for 8 months. Thereafter, she had to leave him with her mother while she went off to find work. The Lord blessed Amana with the current family she works in (and I say “in” because she’s not just a maid, but a member of the family). She has been sending what money she can to support her son since; he’ll be 4 years old in November. On top of that, he doesn’t even recognize her as his mother, since they were separated at too early of an age for him.
Amana has told me that, most recently, a friend’s mother has advised the friend not to associate with Amana. The grounds for this disassociation regard the slander of Amana being a prostitute. This sort of thing is not new for Amana – for no one believed her when she first claimed that her pregnancy was a result of rape. Her own community and her own mother wrote her off at that time (though, her mother has since come to understand the truth).
And throughout all of these stories that Sister Amana told me, she would conclude almost every story by pausing and saying, “It’s okay.”
At first, I thought that she was simply coping with all the injustice in her life by saying a comforting phrase. But as one of our conversations was coming to a close, I started to understand; the more she discussed her faith in God, the more I realized that she really did think it was okay. She really had already forgiven each and every person in her life – even the father of her child. She really had surrendered every unfortunate circumstance up to God. In the midst of all her pain, she will never stay angry with someone forever – no, hurt will be her inevitable response because her first action is to love unconditionally as her Lord Jesus commands of her.
She freely admits that there have been many hard struggles in her life, and she openly shrugs and holds back tears every once in a while when recalling past injustices. But she will never withhold forgiveness; she refuses to dwell on things of the past. While still painful to recall, it does not stay in her mind that many people still believe she is a whore of a low-class citizen.
I am angry. I am so angry to the point of tears. To some degree or another, I have done injustice to most people in my life, whether in thought, word, or deed. Why? Yes, this is the sort of thing that God has been leading and growing me in my whole life: the call for justice. In my own life, how many times have I written someone off as a hopeless case? How many times do I “save myself the trouble” by not engaging someone in a genuine conversation to find out what’s really going on in their life? How many times have I blatantly ignored the Holy Spirit’s leading to walk up to someone in public and talk to them about Jesus or ask them if they need prayer?
How many opportunities, how many people, have been lost because I thought it wise to judge a person by my own wisdom instead of just letting God love them through me? How many times have I judged a person before I knew them?! How many times!!
It is not our job to judge who should receive the love of Christ and who shouldn’t; it is not our job to pick and choose who we talk to about Jesus; it is not our job to strike up conversation with the nice and “safe” person over the person who is “mean”. For both of them need Jesus in their lives more than anything the world has to offer (and that “mean” person could probably really use a God-fearing, unconditionally loving, Jesus-freak of a person who won’t be scared off by their prickly, defensive personality).
Love God and love others. That’s our job. Beggars can’t be choosers; we come in rags before Christ, begging for a salvation He already died to give us freely, yet we dare to think that we could possibly be in a position to choose who next to introduce to our Best Friend?
“I’m disgusted by judgment from us, when her response is so often, ‘It’s okay.’ ” I jotted this down in a flurry of emotion early this morning, before I finally let myself sleep. I am not including this bit from my personal journal to condemn you, but to be perfectly honest (as I told you I would be from the get-go). I am not including any of these harsh words to, myself, be a final judge of anyone’s actions. No, if anything, I’m trying to love the only way I possibly can at this point – and this is to simply be honest about my feelings. For Amana has taught me more about trusting God than anyone on this entire trip, I think. From her testimony, I am convicted to be compassionate, loving, forgiving, gracious, and patient. I am convicted, in other words, to trust God; for there is nothing to a human’s compassion, love, forgiveness, grace, patience or anything! All that is good comes from God alone.
And this is what my beloved Sister Amana, inspired by the Holy Spirit, taught me in our last one-on-one conversation: she said, “I just have to trust God.”
Sunday, August 15, 2010
From: Jordan Burnam - Kenya Team, 08/14/2010
Three of us crammed into the front seat of a pickup in the middle of a traffic jam. Bob Marley's "One Love" blares from some cheap speakers on the side of the road. This is Kenya. Our trip in Kenya has varied from week to week. We've met a lot of different people and been a lot of different places, but I think the last two weeks have definitely been my favorite. With school out for a one month "holiday" we have been spending time at First Love in Karen with 23 girls ages ranging from 7 to 17. All these girls have one thing in common, however. They are orphans.
Chris and Irene have a small photo album in their living room containing the individual stories of all these girls. Many of the girl's parents have passed away due to AIDS, while the more dramatic story includes two girl's mother being murdered after the post-election violence in 2007. Whatever happened in their past, none of these girls have had an easy life. Losing your parents at any age is hard, but add to that being raised by family members, many of the times without the resources to feed another mouth, living in an environment like Kibera and you have hell on earth. By those standards, First Love is a veritable heaven on earth.
Three square meals a day along with 4 o'clock porridge (think more soupy Cream of Wheat), a roof over their head, a bed to sleep in, and clothes to wear are all provided. Add to that the love of multiple "moms, dads, uncles, aunties" and of course "sisters" and the mix is almost perfect. These girls also participate in nightly devotions, and attend church. I do believe most, if not all have an active and personal relationship with Christ. After spending some time with the kids at the Raila Educational Center and then these girls, it's easy to tell the difference between them. Not only is their demeanor cheerful, joyful, and downright bubbly, but you will be hard pressed to find a more loving group of girls anywhere in the world. Everyday Kevin and I are swarmed with little girls giving us hugs and asking us to play games (soccer has been a favorite so far), read (which most of them enjoy), help with English homework, or simply spend time with them. Frankly, I do believe my heart has been stolen. I will be sad to leave them when we make our journey back to the United States, but it's wonderful to have been a part of their lives personally for these past few weeks, as it will be to still be involved in their lives as a church. God is doing amazing things here and it's a wonderful thing to be a part of.
Chris and Irene have a small photo album in their living room containing the individual stories of all these girls. Many of the girl's parents have passed away due to AIDS, while the more dramatic story includes two girl's mother being murdered after the post-election violence in 2007. Whatever happened in their past, none of these girls have had an easy life. Losing your parents at any age is hard, but add to that being raised by family members, many of the times without the resources to feed another mouth, living in an environment like Kibera and you have hell on earth. By those standards, First Love is a veritable heaven on earth.
Three square meals a day along with 4 o'clock porridge (think more soupy Cream of Wheat), a roof over their head, a bed to sleep in, and clothes to wear are all provided. Add to that the love of multiple "moms, dads, uncles, aunties" and of course "sisters" and the mix is almost perfect. These girls also participate in nightly devotions, and attend church. I do believe most, if not all have an active and personal relationship with Christ. After spending some time with the kids at the Raila Educational Center and then these girls, it's easy to tell the difference between them. Not only is their demeanor cheerful, joyful, and downright bubbly, but you will be hard pressed to find a more loving group of girls anywhere in the world. Everyday Kevin and I are swarmed with little girls giving us hugs and asking us to play games (soccer has been a favorite so far), read (which most of them enjoy), help with English homework, or simply spend time with them. Frankly, I do believe my heart has been stolen. I will be sad to leave them when we make our journey back to the United States, but it's wonderful to have been a part of their lives personally for these past few weeks, as it will be to still be involved in their lives as a church. God is doing amazing things here and it's a wonderful thing to be a part of.
From: Jordan Burnam - Kenya Team, 08/10/2010
On our first visit into Kibera, we followed our guides, Lucky, Anne, and Philip into the slum, as we weaved our way through what seemed an endless maze of mud homes with dilapidated tin roofs. It was here that my nostrils were hijacked by one of the worst smells I have ever had the misfortune to encounter; the smell of stagnant human and animal excrement, urine, and possibly vomit warmed by the sun. We continued making progress as we carefully chose our steps through the garbage and streams of sewage. I ran my fingers across the dark red mud of a wall and couldnt help but remember doing the exact same thing on the elevator wall of the tallest building in the world in Dubai. These two places were completely different. I asked myself, How is it that such a clean, extravagant, expensive, and even impressive place like Dubai feels dead compared to the largest slum in Africa? Ill be honest; I was worried about my first visit to Kibera. I didnt know how I would react or how I would handle the entire event. Our first night in Kenya I asked God to prepare me for the visit which would be taking place the next day. Unexpectedly I was woken up in the middle of the night with the words Jesus is there making an impression on my mind.
Kevin and I have had the opportunity to visit the interior of Kibera three times. Every time weve been, we are consequently invited into someones home. The first two times we were invited into the home of one of the women from the Baraka Womens Center. The third time we paid a visit to one of the students, Prudence, from the Raila Educational Center who had been sick with tuberculosis for about a month. Several other students along with the school chaplain, Patrick, as well as one of the staff members, Philip (possibly one of the coolest people I have ever met), were among those who went as well. There were so many of us that not all of us could enter at one time.
As we waited our turn to go inside, the sound of voices singing a hymn in Kiswahili caught our attention. In the midst of unspeakable poverty and deplorable conditions came one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. Once our turn came to enter the house, we ourselves were given the opportunity to offer love and encouragement to Prudence. I battled tears the entire time and only narrowly escaped especially after I was given the blessing to pray at the end of our time there. The things that stick out to me from the slum arent the smells or the sights of all the garbage. Of course they were impacting, but what really sticks out in my mind is the hope and joy that the people we visited possess. Jesus is there.
-Jordan
Kevin and I have had the opportunity to visit the interior of Kibera three times. Every time weve been, we are consequently invited into someones home. The first two times we were invited into the home of one of the women from the Baraka Womens Center. The third time we paid a visit to one of the students, Prudence, from the Raila Educational Center who had been sick with tuberculosis for about a month. Several other students along with the school chaplain, Patrick, as well as one of the staff members, Philip (possibly one of the coolest people I have ever met), were among those who went as well. There were so many of us that not all of us could enter at one time.
As we waited our turn to go inside, the sound of voices singing a hymn in Kiswahili caught our attention. In the midst of unspeakable poverty and deplorable conditions came one of the most beautiful sounds I have ever heard. Once our turn came to enter the house, we ourselves were given the opportunity to offer love and encouragement to Prudence. I battled tears the entire time and only narrowly escaped especially after I was given the blessing to pray at the end of our time there. The things that stick out to me from the slum arent the smells or the sights of all the garbage. Of course they were impacting, but what really sticks out in my mind is the hope and joy that the people we visited possess. Jesus is there.
-Jordan
Friday, August 6, 2010
From: Kevin Bonzo - Kenya Team, 8/5/10 1:30pm
Have you ever had that feeling like you're torn?
I referenced to it a bit in my last entry. It's like this: there is such joy and consistent happiness around me, yet such pain and tragedy.
For instance, I recall a week or two ago, where we (the entire Kenya team was still here) were all gathered around Chris and Irene's dinner table. The conversation was light, and the jokes flowed freely. Suddenly and without warning, Irene told us in a quiet voice that a girl from the Raila Educational Center died from TB. Not only that, but the condition had been treatable - First Love representatives had confronted her father and strongly advised him to take his Form 4 daughter (the equivalent of a senior in our high schools) to a medical doctor immediately. Instead, he took her to a witch doctor, which pretty much always makes things worse. By the time the First Love representatives had checked back with the father and gotten her some medical help, her lungs already had fluid in them and the disease had progressed to the terminal stage. She died, and her father will forever live to know he could have saved her.
You can bet there was a bit of silence after that news got to the table. It wasn't meant to shut us up. It wasn't meant to depress us. No, it was actually just meant to inform us. A daily report sort of thing. That's the daily sort of news the Okunas, as First Love’s head representatives, are liable to receive.
How is it like this, and yet they are still contented in their lives?
Earlier this afternoon, I was assisting someone who aspires to be a lawyer and a doctor with her composition skills. I have currently gone over three of the stories she has written all by herself. They are all extremely well-written, save for a few grammatical and spelling errors here and there. But, what stuck out to me from the first story was the dark introduction - it starts from the perspective of an innocent, female character that wonders where everyone is. Then, three men with black gloves and suspicious expressions come. When the character tries to call the police, they grab her, bind and blindfold her, then kidnap her. Luckily for the character (and my heart, that was racing by that point), it turns out that these three men were actually hired to surprise the daylights out of her and bring her to her surprise birthday party, where her whole family was waiting.
The second story went by with less incident, describing a teenage girl being punished by her father for sneaking out with a boy to a party with alcohol at it. I put it shortly, since I don't want to make this blog about her stories.
Now, I corrected these first two drafts yesterday. By then, the thought had already crossed my mind that perhaps these stories were based on some truth. But, I said nothing - until she had me proofread a third story that she had written overnight:
It starts with even more beauty, innocence, and naivety than the first story, with the girl awakening to observe the morning dew. You can tell the character can't wait to start her day, but when she reaches the bus stop, the bus is seen leaving around a corner. Just then, a good-looking man in a nice car rolls up to ask her if she needs a ride. Desperate and taken by his "kindness", she accepts. While he drives farther and farther in the wrong direction, she is distracted by the music (and her own naivety). Finally, she realizes what's going on and starts screaming; that's when his whole "nice-guy" attitude changes. Soon, he stops the car, and the author writes that he drags her into the bushes and tortures her. Finally, when he pauses to bring a knife out, she uses the chance to knock him out and get to the road to flag down policemen. The story ends with her recovering in the hospital.
When the author of this gruesome story sat down beside me to see the corrections I had made, I had to stop in the middle of it and finally ask her, "Is any of this true?" Her response - "Yes, my uncle raped me." And in the same breathe, she added, "But I forgave him." She later told me that she forgave him a year ago tomorrow (August 7th, 2009).
This talented writer who aspires to be a lawyer and a doctor is 14-and-a-half years old, can quote Scriptural circles around me, and passionately loves the Lord with all her heart. In fact, she loves Him so much that she'll forgive and love the man who raped her sometime before she was 13.
Jordan and I have been reading through a "textbook" while here. In it, one finds a picture of each orphan at the Karen Orphanage with an attached biography. As we read, we find ourselves moving between extreme emotions of overwhelming sadness and intense anger. The overwhelming sadness comes from understanding each girl's unfortunate past. The intense anger comes from not being able to understand why anyone would ever think to bring physical, emotional, mental, and/or sexual harm to any of these. I find myself beginning to burn even as I write this.
Yet, the girl I spoke of before discussing the orphans has no anger. She has no hate. She seeks no revenge. She has only love and grace in her heart - the Spirit of the Lord. She is, truly, a new creature (2 Cor 5:17).
The Okunas who continually subject themselves to hearing of and involving themselves in the desperate lives of those in the slums are content. The reason they do not despair every time they hear or relate a tragic story - like Irene did earlier - is because they put their trust wholly in God's goodness. Not just their trust - they know that He is good. And, in knowing this, they can carry on in the ministry He has set before them, despite sharing in the pain with their Fellows in Christ. In knowing of His goodness, they can also share in the joy of the Father with their Fellows in Christ.
Our Fellows in Christ in the slums do not waste time groaning over their circumstances - it would be too much precious energy that they would want to be using to glorify the Lord. Whether praising in song or in work, the ones I have met here do so with glad hearts for the glory of God (1 Cor 10:31).
I am reminded of a short video I just saw the other night, thanks to a very encouraging Kenyan Brother - "When's the last time you drank a glass of water to the glory of God?" And when's the last time you drank a glass of clean water to the glory of God?
I ought to stop grumbling about preparing my own food - many don't have food to cook. I ought to stop complaining that I have "too much" homework - some start off for school at 4AM, then don't leave (by choice) until 9PM because they want to study. I ought to be very silent about tuition costs rising so high - many don't have the ability to pay $150 of school expenditures per year for their kids. I ought to know my place when dreading my one-mile bike rides to school this coming college semester - even the elementary students may walk at least two miles.
I ought to be thankful for my pleasures - our fellow Christians here in Kenyan slums are thankful for whatever necessities are given to them by God.
Come to think of it, I think the Lord feels torn, too - He did once, at least. Imagine the pain and suffering God has endured throughout the history of His creation, including the most painful event of all time – taking out all His wrath on His own, undeserving Son. And not just pain from outright sin, but pain from being misunderstood as a distant God, a God that loves to punish, a God that causes suffering, a God that just, plain doesn’t care.
And then imagine how He has told us time and again through His word that none of that is true – that we’re worth His suffering.
The Father loves us that much.
So, we’re worth feeling torn over.
I referenced to it a bit in my last entry. It's like this: there is such joy and consistent happiness around me, yet such pain and tragedy.
For instance, I recall a week or two ago, where we (the entire Kenya team was still here) were all gathered around Chris and Irene's dinner table. The conversation was light, and the jokes flowed freely. Suddenly and without warning, Irene told us in a quiet voice that a girl from the Raila Educational Center died from TB. Not only that, but the condition had been treatable - First Love representatives had confronted her father and strongly advised him to take his Form 4 daughter (the equivalent of a senior in our high schools) to a medical doctor immediately. Instead, he took her to a witch doctor, which pretty much always makes things worse. By the time the First Love representatives had checked back with the father and gotten her some medical help, her lungs already had fluid in them and the disease had progressed to the terminal stage. She died, and her father will forever live to know he could have saved her.
You can bet there was a bit of silence after that news got to the table. It wasn't meant to shut us up. It wasn't meant to depress us. No, it was actually just meant to inform us. A daily report sort of thing. That's the daily sort of news the Okunas, as First Love’s head representatives, are liable to receive.
How is it like this, and yet they are still contented in their lives?
Earlier this afternoon, I was assisting someone who aspires to be a lawyer and a doctor with her composition skills. I have currently gone over three of the stories she has written all by herself. They are all extremely well-written, save for a few grammatical and spelling errors here and there. But, what stuck out to me from the first story was the dark introduction - it starts from the perspective of an innocent, female character that wonders where everyone is. Then, three men with black gloves and suspicious expressions come. When the character tries to call the police, they grab her, bind and blindfold her, then kidnap her. Luckily for the character (and my heart, that was racing by that point), it turns out that these three men were actually hired to surprise the daylights out of her and bring her to her surprise birthday party, where her whole family was waiting.
The second story went by with less incident, describing a teenage girl being punished by her father for sneaking out with a boy to a party with alcohol at it. I put it shortly, since I don't want to make this blog about her stories.
Now, I corrected these first two drafts yesterday. By then, the thought had already crossed my mind that perhaps these stories were based on some truth. But, I said nothing - until she had me proofread a third story that she had written overnight:
It starts with even more beauty, innocence, and naivety than the first story, with the girl awakening to observe the morning dew. You can tell the character can't wait to start her day, but when she reaches the bus stop, the bus is seen leaving around a corner. Just then, a good-looking man in a nice car rolls up to ask her if she needs a ride. Desperate and taken by his "kindness", she accepts. While he drives farther and farther in the wrong direction, she is distracted by the music (and her own naivety). Finally, she realizes what's going on and starts screaming; that's when his whole "nice-guy" attitude changes. Soon, he stops the car, and the author writes that he drags her into the bushes and tortures her. Finally, when he pauses to bring a knife out, she uses the chance to knock him out and get to the road to flag down policemen. The story ends with her recovering in the hospital.
When the author of this gruesome story sat down beside me to see the corrections I had made, I had to stop in the middle of it and finally ask her, "Is any of this true?" Her response - "Yes, my uncle raped me." And in the same breathe, she added, "But I forgave him." She later told me that she forgave him a year ago tomorrow (August 7th, 2009).
This talented writer who aspires to be a lawyer and a doctor is 14-and-a-half years old, can quote Scriptural circles around me, and passionately loves the Lord with all her heart. In fact, she loves Him so much that she'll forgive and love the man who raped her sometime before she was 13.
Jordan and I have been reading through a "textbook" while here. In it, one finds a picture of each orphan at the Karen Orphanage with an attached biography. As we read, we find ourselves moving between extreme emotions of overwhelming sadness and intense anger. The overwhelming sadness comes from understanding each girl's unfortunate past. The intense anger comes from not being able to understand why anyone would ever think to bring physical, emotional, mental, and/or sexual harm to any of these. I find myself beginning to burn even as I write this.
Yet, the girl I spoke of before discussing the orphans has no anger. She has no hate. She seeks no revenge. She has only love and grace in her heart - the Spirit of the Lord. She is, truly, a new creature (2 Cor 5:17).
The Okunas who continually subject themselves to hearing of and involving themselves in the desperate lives of those in the slums are content. The reason they do not despair every time they hear or relate a tragic story - like Irene did earlier - is because they put their trust wholly in God's goodness. Not just their trust - they know that He is good. And, in knowing this, they can carry on in the ministry He has set before them, despite sharing in the pain with their Fellows in Christ. In knowing of His goodness, they can also share in the joy of the Father with their Fellows in Christ.
Our Fellows in Christ in the slums do not waste time groaning over their circumstances - it would be too much precious energy that they would want to be using to glorify the Lord. Whether praising in song or in work, the ones I have met here do so with glad hearts for the glory of God (1 Cor 10:31).
I am reminded of a short video I just saw the other night, thanks to a very encouraging Kenyan Brother - "When's the last time you drank a glass of water to the glory of God?" And when's the last time you drank a glass of clean water to the glory of God?
I ought to stop grumbling about preparing my own food - many don't have food to cook. I ought to stop complaining that I have "too much" homework - some start off for school at 4AM, then don't leave (by choice) until 9PM because they want to study. I ought to be very silent about tuition costs rising so high - many don't have the ability to pay $150 of school expenditures per year for their kids. I ought to know my place when dreading my one-mile bike rides to school this coming college semester - even the elementary students may walk at least two miles.
I ought to be thankful for my pleasures - our fellow Christians here in Kenyan slums are thankful for whatever necessities are given to them by God.
Come to think of it, I think the Lord feels torn, too - He did once, at least. Imagine the pain and suffering God has endured throughout the history of His creation, including the most painful event of all time – taking out all His wrath on His own, undeserving Son. And not just pain from outright sin, but pain from being misunderstood as a distant God, a God that loves to punish, a God that causes suffering, a God that just, plain doesn’t care.
And then imagine how He has told us time and again through His word that none of that is true – that we’re worth His suffering.
The Father loves us that much.
So, we’re worth feeling torn over.
Monday, August 2, 2010
From: Kevin Bonzo - Kenya Team, 08/01/10
The Flip-Side of Comfort
Lips asked Jordan and I yesterday what had touched us the most while we were here in Kenya. I don't know what I said then, but it wasn't entirely honest. See, while I more or less feel comfortable and at home here, I still don't feel it is appropriate to break down and let all the disorganized clutter come out. My thoughts (much like this journal entry) are not even close to organized, and if those are not organized then how can my emotions be sorted out? That's why I write. I never know what's going to happen when I write, but I know that (like prayer) something honest will come of it.
I was sharing the purpose of our "mission work" here with yet another person today, only to realize yet again that we've come not to give, but to be given to. We are not helping, but being helped. We are not the lovers, but the ones being loved. Here, we're being exposed to what God's really about - and He's about a whole lot more than building houses, digging wells, or sponsoring a kid in some far-off land. He's about relationship. Personal. Intimate. Ugly.
He's about conflict (which there happens to be a lot of in me right now). For those who recall, Pastor Kyama came to our church to visit and share a message with us a few months ago. His message was all about conflict. He told us it was both inescapable and necessary at the same time. He told us that God used it as a means of growth in relationships.
Each day, as we take a ride through Nairobi from place to place, I find myself staring out the window attempting to numb myself against everything I see: trash lines the pockmarked roads, lines the red-dirt "sidewalks", lines the canals; hard-working, striving people crowd these "sidewalks" (as well as the roads when there are no dusty paths); intermingled with them are starving dogs. And that's a regular route for many local residents in their daily life. That alone is enough to overwhelm me as I look on, but I then think of the two slums I've been to: Kibera and Mitumba. I try to comfort myself with a worship song, try to pass the time with familiarity. I find myself on the verge of tears, regardless of how joyful the song should be. I praise the Lord, but I do not feel the peace I desperately (and selfishly) seek.
On the night when half our team left for the States, Matt asked me in Chris's land rover if I was okay. I told him I was, even though I wasn't. I tried to pull together a bit of honesty by confessing to him a little later that my feelings will not determine reality. I told him that regardless of not feeling okay, I knew (at least, in principle) that God was (and is) in control. But it seems that the truth is that with their departure, all familiarity and comfort are also departing.
Yes, that's the truth of me right now, I think - even with my beloved Brother Jordan by my side still, I feel alone and overwhelmed by emotions I cannot place. I want to go home, where I can at least fool myself into thinking I have control. Where I can live in "comfort" and "security" for a little while, before reality kicks in again. But, unfortunately, God has blessed me with another home here in Kenya. So, I am torn. There will be no comfort for me when I go back, for my comfort is also here, with people who love the Lord and actively seek Him. My home is now also here, with those who love me with Jesus' love. My home is with these 23 orphans, with their caretakers, with the students of Raila, with the Brothers and Sisters in the slums, and with Chris and Irene's household. Home is pretty much with everyone I've met here that God's used to speak much-needed truth into my life.
So, I'm torn. I'm broken. And I've become quite numb on the inside (in so far as saying that while something terribly violent and tumultuous is happening inside, I can't fully express just what exactly is causing it).
And I actually think that this is right where God wants me: absolutely vulnerable; absolutely uncomfortable; absolutely insecure. I think He's okay with the conflict in my heart (though, this is not to be confused with the false idea that He enjoys my inner suffering). I think He's using it to bring me into closer relationship with Him and Him alone. The familiar comfort of physically being in Turlock or Clovis (my hometown) is absent. The familiar comfort of talking to my girlfriend Jania consistently is absent. The familiar comforts of being able to access the internet at will to look up songs, write in my online journal, or just zone out with some mindless game are all absent. The familiar comfort of being able to roam freely on familiar (and safe) streets at will is gone. Even the familiar comfort of singing - as I've already told you - has utterly failed to soothe me. I am totally dependent on my very loving hosts (whom I've only personally known for three weeks!). Yes, in other words, I am totally dependent on God. And, sadly, that's not familiar territory for me. That's not comfortable.
See, Psalm 51 tells us about how God doesn't want just any sort of sacrifice. He doesn't want my singing (which comforts me). He wants my heart for what it is - broken. He doesn't need me to be comfortable for His purposes, but He does need me to be honest with myself and Him (though, such need is not to be confused with the false idea that God needs me, since He is complete in and of Himself). What I mean to say is that for our relationship (a well-known, two-way street) to grow, He needs me to stop offering anything but a broken spirit. I need to be offering only a broken and repentant hear, repentant for not trusting in Him alone in the first place.
This bit of ranting took around two hours to wrap up at an hour in which I should be sleeping, but I think it's all been written to say to you, my Brother or Sister, that missions are not about doing something in some far-off land. No, from what I've experienced they're really about being with someone in whatever land God sends you to, near or far, just outside your door or just across the Atlantic Ocean. They're not about comfort - missions are about relationships. And whose relationship will reap the greatest benefit by stepping out into the insecurity of totally trusting God in unknown situations? Probably you. Probably me.
Lips asked Jordan and I yesterday what had touched us the most while we were here in Kenya. I don't know what I said then, but it wasn't entirely honest. See, while I more or less feel comfortable and at home here, I still don't feel it is appropriate to break down and let all the disorganized clutter come out. My thoughts (much like this journal entry) are not even close to organized, and if those are not organized then how can my emotions be sorted out? That's why I write. I never know what's going to happen when I write, but I know that (like prayer) something honest will come of it.
I was sharing the purpose of our "mission work" here with yet another person today, only to realize yet again that we've come not to give, but to be given to. We are not helping, but being helped. We are not the lovers, but the ones being loved. Here, we're being exposed to what God's really about - and He's about a whole lot more than building houses, digging wells, or sponsoring a kid in some far-off land. He's about relationship. Personal. Intimate. Ugly.
He's about conflict (which there happens to be a lot of in me right now). For those who recall, Pastor Kyama came to our church to visit and share a message with us a few months ago. His message was all about conflict. He told us it was both inescapable and necessary at the same time. He told us that God used it as a means of growth in relationships.
Each day, as we take a ride through Nairobi from place to place, I find myself staring out the window attempting to numb myself against everything I see: trash lines the pockmarked roads, lines the red-dirt "sidewalks", lines the canals; hard-working, striving people crowd these "sidewalks" (as well as the roads when there are no dusty paths); intermingled with them are starving dogs. And that's a regular route for many local residents in their daily life. That alone is enough to overwhelm me as I look on, but I then think of the two slums I've been to: Kibera and Mitumba. I try to comfort myself with a worship song, try to pass the time with familiarity. I find myself on the verge of tears, regardless of how joyful the song should be. I praise the Lord, but I do not feel the peace I desperately (and selfishly) seek.
On the night when half our team left for the States, Matt asked me in Chris's land rover if I was okay. I told him I was, even though I wasn't. I tried to pull together a bit of honesty by confessing to him a little later that my feelings will not determine reality. I told him that regardless of not feeling okay, I knew (at least, in principle) that God was (and is) in control. But it seems that the truth is that with their departure, all familiarity and comfort are also departing.
Yes, that's the truth of me right now, I think - even with my beloved Brother Jordan by my side still, I feel alone and overwhelmed by emotions I cannot place. I want to go home, where I can at least fool myself into thinking I have control. Where I can live in "comfort" and "security" for a little while, before reality kicks in again. But, unfortunately, God has blessed me with another home here in Kenya. So, I am torn. There will be no comfort for me when I go back, for my comfort is also here, with people who love the Lord and actively seek Him. My home is now also here, with those who love me with Jesus' love. My home is with these 23 orphans, with their caretakers, with the students of Raila, with the Brothers and Sisters in the slums, and with Chris and Irene's household. Home is pretty much with everyone I've met here that God's used to speak much-needed truth into my life.
So, I'm torn. I'm broken. And I've become quite numb on the inside (in so far as saying that while something terribly violent and tumultuous is happening inside, I can't fully express just what exactly is causing it).
And I actually think that this is right where God wants me: absolutely vulnerable; absolutely uncomfortable; absolutely insecure. I think He's okay with the conflict in my heart (though, this is not to be confused with the false idea that He enjoys my inner suffering). I think He's using it to bring me into closer relationship with Him and Him alone. The familiar comfort of physically being in Turlock or Clovis (my hometown) is absent. The familiar comfort of talking to my girlfriend Jania consistently is absent. The familiar comforts of being able to access the internet at will to look up songs, write in my online journal, or just zone out with some mindless game are all absent. The familiar comfort of being able to roam freely on familiar (and safe) streets at will is gone. Even the familiar comfort of singing - as I've already told you - has utterly failed to soothe me. I am totally dependent on my very loving hosts (whom I've only personally known for three weeks!). Yes, in other words, I am totally dependent on God. And, sadly, that's not familiar territory for me. That's not comfortable.
See, Psalm 51 tells us about how God doesn't want just any sort of sacrifice. He doesn't want my singing (which comforts me). He wants my heart for what it is - broken. He doesn't need me to be comfortable for His purposes, but He does need me to be honest with myself and Him (though, such need is not to be confused with the false idea that God needs me, since He is complete in and of Himself). What I mean to say is that for our relationship (a well-known, two-way street) to grow, He needs me to stop offering anything but a broken spirit. I need to be offering only a broken and repentant hear, repentant for not trusting in Him alone in the first place.
This bit of ranting took around two hours to wrap up at an hour in which I should be sleeping, but I think it's all been written to say to you, my Brother or Sister, that missions are not about doing something in some far-off land. No, from what I've experienced they're really about being with someone in whatever land God sends you to, near or far, just outside your door or just across the Atlantic Ocean. They're not about comfort - missions are about relationships. And whose relationship will reap the greatest benefit by stepping out into the insecurity of totally trusting God in unknown situations? Probably you. Probably me.
Saturday, July 31, 2010
From: Jordan Burnam - Kenya Team, 7/31/2010
Kenya is Comfortable.
I arrived in Kenya just under three weeks ago and I had heard many stories about past experiences in this country from my significant other as well as many of my friends, so I knew what to expect…sort of. I knew to expect that Chris and Irene, our most gracious hosts, are wonderful people and that I and my team would feel especially welcome in their home. And we have. I expected that we would have a great time with kids at the Raila Educational Center, playing football (soccer for the American reader), and having them teach us Swahili. It happened. I expected to begin falling in love with a country where the music is so rich and vibrant you are caught up in a rushing torrent of melody and harmony. Expectation = reality. Yesterday, as we attended the wedding of Karimi, the worship leader at one of the churches in Nairobi, the phrase “Kenya is comfortable” popped into my mind. I think that is honestly the best way to describe the overall feel of this country and its people.
However, I do believe there are some things I could never have been prepared for or expected. We were given the opportunity to go with Chris’ cousin, Lips, to deliver some food to a school in Mitumba. In Swahili, the polite translation of Mitumba is “used”, the not-so-polite translation is “used menstrual rag.” As we arrived the school the children flocked the vehicle and grew very excited knowing that food had arrived. As we climbed out of the van the children enthusiastically grabbed our hands and clamored for our attention. A little while later I was caught up in a game of football with some of the older boys and was allowed to stay while the rest of the team and Lips (pronounced Leeps) received a tour of the slum from one of the teachers. Eventually the kids that I was playing with had to go to class and I was left with one other young man, Kelvin. As we continued to play football he shared that he was 17 years old and was a helper to the cook at the school. Kelvin eventually moved on to show me that he could juggle and as I (unsuccessfully) attempted the same feat, Kelvin called out to me, “Jordan, my mom died.” I was taken aback by this sudden confession and asked him when this happened. “On Friday,” he told me. I awkwardly responded “Pole sana,” (I’m very sorry). How can you ever be prepared for a moment like that?
I arrived in Kenya just under three weeks ago and I had heard many stories about past experiences in this country from my significant other as well as many of my friends, so I knew what to expect…sort of. I knew to expect that Chris and Irene, our most gracious hosts, are wonderful people and that I and my team would feel especially welcome in their home. And we have. I expected that we would have a great time with kids at the Raila Educational Center, playing football (soccer for the American reader), and having them teach us Swahili. It happened. I expected to begin falling in love with a country where the music is so rich and vibrant you are caught up in a rushing torrent of melody and harmony. Expectation = reality. Yesterday, as we attended the wedding of Karimi, the worship leader at one of the churches in Nairobi, the phrase “Kenya is comfortable” popped into my mind. I think that is honestly the best way to describe the overall feel of this country and its people.
However, I do believe there are some things I could never have been prepared for or expected. We were given the opportunity to go with Chris’ cousin, Lips, to deliver some food to a school in Mitumba. In Swahili, the polite translation of Mitumba is “used”, the not-so-polite translation is “used menstrual rag.” As we arrived the school the children flocked the vehicle and grew very excited knowing that food had arrived. As we climbed out of the van the children enthusiastically grabbed our hands and clamored for our attention. A little while later I was caught up in a game of football with some of the older boys and was allowed to stay while the rest of the team and Lips (pronounced Leeps) received a tour of the slum from one of the teachers. Eventually the kids that I was playing with had to go to class and I was left with one other young man, Kelvin. As we continued to play football he shared that he was 17 years old and was a helper to the cook at the school. Kelvin eventually moved on to show me that he could juggle and as I (unsuccessfully) attempted the same feat, Kelvin called out to me, “Jordan, my mom died.” I was taken aback by this sudden confession and asked him when this happened. “On Friday,” he told me. I awkwardly responded “Pole sana,” (I’m very sorry). How can you ever be prepared for a moment like that?
Thursday, July 29, 2010
From: Matt Seadore - Kenya Team, 07/26/10
Matt plays with elementary students in Kibera
The faces of hope that live in the slums of NairobiWe have been in Kenya for almost two weeks. We have taken in so much that it is hard to synthesize all that we have seen, heard, smelled, tasted, and felt. What seems to stand out the most to me are singular words that capture the spirit of what I have seen in Kenya.
Joy-- It is unmistakeable as you interact with the kids at Raila Educational Centre in the slums of Kibera that these children have
joy. They are happy, well fed, and excited to take life head on.
Many of them, because of the love and meals provided by First Love, feel empowered to reach for higher things after graduating from school.
Perseverance-- This is what I see in the eyes of the women who are part of the Baraka Women's Centre. Many of these women come from painfully difficult circumstances. They are single mothers, AIDS carriers, and sole providers. They also know Jesus in a way that feels much more personal than the way that I experience Him. They have this real time trust in Jesus that He really will provide their daily bread. They wake up each day in a 10' by 12' home, with no running water, and no electricity. They care for their children, spend time with the Father, and create handmade purses, fireless cookers, and aprons in an attempt to better their lives. Their dreams aren't about moving out of Kibera, or saving for retirement but that their kids might be able to get an education which may enable them to escape the stranglehold of poverty.
Tragedy-- Monica is a 19 year old girl who was waiting to sit for exams to graduate from high school at Raila. She was going to be the first girl from her village upcountry to ever graduate high school. A few weeks ago Monica became very ill. Irene, who leads First Love alongside her husband Chris Okuna, was concerned, so she went out and paid a visit to her home. Irene is not a trained doctor but it was obvious to her that Monica was suffering from TB. She advised
Monica's father to take her to a clinic where she could be treated.
He resisted as he was fearful of the financial repercussions even though Irene assured him that treatment for TB is free. He decided to wait it out. He waited for a week and then finally took her to the hospital. Sadly for Monica it was too late. She died 48 hours later. Now Irene and First Love are helping to pay for her burial and are grieving that Monica's life was cut short needlessly.
In the slums of Nairobi one can encounter joy, perseverance and tragedy each and every day. A lyric from a worship song has been rolling around in my head lately; "shine your light and let the whole world see, we're living for the glory of the risen king." It has been a huge honor for us to walk alongside First Love for the past two weeks. They truly are a shining light in the darkness, and while there are tragic days, the dark does not overcome them.
There is one more word that I want to share with you and that is a word that defines what our team is going through right now.
Transition- Tonight, Dustin, Michelle and Lorna will board a plane and
return home. Pray for them as they re-enter day to day life at home.
Pray that they will have time and space to process what they have
experienced and that they would be alert to what God is asking them.
Jordan and Kevin are entering a new chapter of their journey. They will stay on with First Love for the next three weeks. Their days will be spent in Kibera and at the orphanage in Karen. Pray that they will have continued health and that they will not be afraid as they enter this new chapter. Finally my day to day interactions will be changing as well. Tomorrow I will begin a week of engagement with Mavuno Downtown (our partner church in Nairobi). I will attend staff meetings, meet with different pastoral staff, attend Karimi Rumbui's
wedding, and lead worship this weekend. I will be "on the move."
Pray that I would be able to stay fully engaged this week, that I would listen well, and that my heart would be open to what God has for me.
Thanks for your prayers throughout our time in Kenya!
Matt
Friday, July 23, 2010
From: Jordan Burnam / Kenya Team - 7/23, 9:40am
I (Jordan) grew up in Mexico as a missionary kid. As the stereotype would hold I grew up playing soccer since I was six years old. As you can imagine, I get pretty excited when the World Cup comes around as it only does so every four years. Getting to watch about three games a day for almost a month straight is any soccer enthusiasts dream. While that passion for soccer isnt shared by most people in the United States, that passion for soccer (or football rather) in Kenya definitely is, especially with this World Cup having been hosted on the African continent for the first time ever. Football here is taken pretty seriously and as we drive around the city, people can be seen playing soccer. In church on Sunday during the service at Mavuno Downtown, several titles were given to different World Cup soccer players as a joke. Even the question was asked whether people were sad or happy now that the World Cup was over, and people responded in the microphone. Definitely different than most church services in the United States.
This passion for soccer is also shared by most of the students at the Raila Educational Center. Several of the conversations Ive had with them have been around the World Cup and soccer in general. Naturally, Ive joined in several soccer games with the kids and its been a lot of fun. Now for a little bit of World Cup trivia. During the World Cup a special ball is made. This years model was called the Jabulani. . The average price for this ball, the Jabulani, is somewhere around $150 US dollars. For the most part, there were a lot of complaints about the ball, mainly that it moved too fast, it was too unpredictable, etc. Overall, it got a poor review by the players and the announcers.
At Raila, the kids who have actual soccer balls are pretty lucky. Most of the students play with a few plastic bags all rolled up together and then tightly wound by another string of plastic. I even saw some kids playing soccer with a plastic water jug as their ball. If people complained about the Jabulani being bad, these kids have every right to complain about the ball, or lack thereof, that they have to play with. And yet, they weren't complaining. After seeing that, I have to really wonder, is it right for me to complain about all the little things that I let bother me? If maybe I take a second to remember how blessed I am compared to most people, perhaps I would be quicker to say thanks and not spout off complaints. It puts do everything without arguing or complaining in a whole different light doesnt it?
This passion for soccer is also shared by most of the students at the Raila Educational Center. Several of the conversations Ive had with them have been around the World Cup and soccer in general. Naturally, Ive joined in several soccer games with the kids and its been a lot of fun. Now for a little bit of World Cup trivia. During the World Cup a special ball is made. This years model was called the Jabulani. . The average price for this ball, the Jabulani, is somewhere around $150 US dollars. For the most part, there were a lot of complaints about the ball, mainly that it moved too fast, it was too unpredictable, etc. Overall, it got a poor review by the players and the announcers.
At Raila, the kids who have actual soccer balls are pretty lucky. Most of the students play with a few plastic bags all rolled up together and then tightly wound by another string of plastic. I even saw some kids playing soccer with a plastic water jug as their ball. If people complained about the Jabulani being bad, these kids have every right to complain about the ball, or lack thereof, that they have to play with. And yet, they weren't complaining. After seeing that, I have to really wonder, is it right for me to complain about all the little things that I let bother me? If maybe I take a second to remember how blessed I am compared to most people, perhaps I would be quicker to say thanks and not spout off complaints. It puts do everything without arguing or complaining in a whole different light doesnt it?
Thursday, July 22, 2010
From: Michelle Johnson - Kenya Team, 7/22/2010, 5:00am
Baraka Women visiting the shelter
Miriam
Girls at the school being sillyI process things slowly. Our days have been long ~ filled with meeting women and children, visiting their homes, hearing their stories, serving meals, and taking tea. I love that every afternoon people stop whatever they're doing and take tea. However, the tea break isn't long enough for me to allow my head to catch up with my heart, so everything here still seems a bit surreal. It's hard to comprehend that when I serve lunch to the children at Raila School, for many of them, that is their last meal of the day. Some children bring small containers, lids, or old plastic bags so they can have a little extra food to take home for dinner or to share with parents or siblings. How can that be? We have so much! But Monte Vista Chapel has been a big part of feeding the children at Raila School through our partnership with First Love Kenya.
Raila School is a private K-12 school located in the Kibera Slum. When I say "private", I don't mean "privileged". Most schools in Kenya are private, and Raila is no exception. It costs about $150 a year for an elementary student to attend Raila, more for secondary students. Although First Love has no official relationship with the school (they are a presence there, they don't run the school), they sponsor many of the students. Although $150 for an entire year may not seem much to you or me, when you're making $1 a day, school becomes more of a luxury than a need. When you enter the gate to the school with Chris or Irene Okuna (the directors of First Love Kenya), students flock to them. They all call them "mom" and "dad" ~ and for many of the students, these are the only "parents" they have. Some children are orphaned. Some are abused by their parents. Some live with extended family. Chris and Irene play with these students, listen to them, and love them. First Love also feeds these students two meals a day. Children receive a cup of porridge in the morning and a plate of corn and beans for lunch. These aren't really "meals" by our standards, but the children don't complain ~ they receive it and are thankful that there is food in their stomachs.
Speaking of food in their stomachs, I was asked to tell you "thank you" from Phillip. Phillip was a student at Raila School and graduated three years ago. He is so grateful, because we, through First Love, fed him. As a student, he went hungry frequently, so he would sneak food home. He would hide it in the ceiling of his classroom and retrieve it after everyone was gone. Phillip now works for First Love and is attending college where he is studying community service and development. He loves Jesus and is an incredible example to the students at Raila. Miriam also sends her thanks. She is grateful to First Love because they have helped supply food for her daycare. Miriam is an elderly woman who runs a daycare for several children in the Kibera slum. She noticed that there were many infants and toddlers left alone all day while their mothers were working or looking for work ~ so she decided to open a daycare. She allows mothers to drop their children off so they can be cared for in a safe environment and charges them whatever they feel they can afford. Miriam is also the chairwoman of the Baraka (which means "blessed" in Swahili) Women's Center, another ministry run by First Love. At the Baraka Women's Center women are taught different trades (making aprons, bags, jewelry) so they can make a living. Each of the Baraka women have come to know the Lord. They have Bible study together while they are working on their projects. Elizabeth is a mother of three and one of the Baraka women. Her husband died last year of AIDS and Elizabeth herself is HIV positive as well. Elizabeth invited us into her home in the Kibera slum. It's a small, one-room house and she struggles to pay the rent (about $10 per month). She is thankful that First Love has given her a way to earn a living, but more thankful that she is growing in her relationship with God. I've always heard that as a church, Monte Vista Chapel really has made a difference in many lives ~ but I've been able to see them ~ they're real, and they're thankful.
First Love Kenya also has an orphanage that is home to 23 girls, most of whom came out of the Kibera Slum. These girls now live on five acres surrounded by people who love and care for them. A dormitory is being built (and is almost complete) which will house about 100 children ~ and Chris and Irene would love to build a second dormitory so they can help even more children. The work they do here is amazing. The girls are healthy and happy and are all growing in their relationships with God. Joy is evident here! They sing and dance and love Jesus!
I was asked recently if I had experienced culture shock. My answer was "no". Are things different here? Sure they are. Poverty is evident, roads aren't maintained as they are in the US, and I need to use an electrical converter when I use my hair dryer. But in Kenya, life moves at a slower pace, people go out of their way to help each other, and somehow it feels like this is the way life is supposed to be. I'm anxiously awaiting some space to process all that I've seen and experienced. My prayer in coming here was that God would use my time here to change me ~ and I'm thinking He's already answered that prayer.
~ Michelle
Monday, July 19, 2010
From: Dustin Johnson - Kenya Team, 7/19 12:00pm
Today was an interesting day. The whole team went to the Raila School to interact with the children. We went into one of the classrooms which had around 50 kids in it and were inundated with all sorts of questions. They were drilling us with questions from the materials they were studying and making me realize that it's been a long time since I was in the 5th grade. It was fun to share with them about what my family is like and what California is like. I actually had a boy ask if I surf everyday. It was really neat to see how much they are learning given the conditions they live in and the hardships they face daily.
We then went with Ann and Lucky (two ladies from the woman's center) into the slums to see some of the houses where these ladies and the children from the school live. We ran into Elizabeth (also from the center), and she wanted to take us to her house. After ten minutes of walking down steep narrow corridors, over open sewer streams, we came to the row of houses where she lives. I don't think I could find my way back there if I had to. I can't imagine how hard it would be to get around after dark or when it is raining.
Her 10'x10' house consisted of a couple of chairs, a bench, a small table with a few pots, and that's about all. She was so happy that we had chosen to see her home. She told us a little about her life and we shared some about ours. We were only there about 15 minutes, but I think it meant more to her than we realize.
We went back to the school, where I took apart some old bunk beds. I will use the wood to make some display racks for the items the ladies have been making from the center.
It is very encouraging to me to see how selfless a lot of the people are that we have been meeting. For example, I think of Miriam (from the earlier blogs) who has dreams of opening another child care in different slum. How can a person in her situation think or care about others? I am finding that I have much to learn from the people here and I'm looking forward to the next six days to see what lessons God has for me.
Dustin
We then went with Ann and Lucky (two ladies from the woman's center) into the slums to see some of the houses where these ladies and the children from the school live. We ran into Elizabeth (also from the center), and she wanted to take us to her house. After ten minutes of walking down steep narrow corridors, over open sewer streams, we came to the row of houses where she lives. I don't think I could find my way back there if I had to. I can't imagine how hard it would be to get around after dark or when it is raining.
Her 10'x10' house consisted of a couple of chairs, a bench, a small table with a few pots, and that's about all. She was so happy that we had chosen to see her home. She told us a little about her life and we shared some about ours. We were only there about 15 minutes, but I think it meant more to her than we realize.
We went back to the school, where I took apart some old bunk beds. I will use the wood to make some display racks for the items the ladies have been making from the center.
It is very encouraging to me to see how selfless a lot of the people are that we have been meeting. For example, I think of Miriam (from the earlier blogs) who has dreams of opening another child care in different slum. How can a person in her situation think or care about others? I am finding that I have much to learn from the people here and I'm looking forward to the next six days to see what lessons God has for me.
Dustin
Friday, July 16, 2010
From: Kevin Bonzo - Kenya Team, 7/16 11:00am
Dear Fellow Believers,
Disclaimer: Hey y'all, my name is Kevin Bonzo. I'm now in my 20s as of July 5, I'm one of the two college students on this trip, and I have long, black hair. That last sentence probably didn't make a whole lot of sense, since you don't have a context in which to understand what I've said. But here's the context I want you guys to read my perspective of this trip from - informal, expressive, and often emotional. As a matter of fact, just read it as if you were reading my personal journal. Each of the six of us on the Kenya team will be blogging about our experiences; it is my full intention to not merely report to you but to share with you as much as I can so that you will hopefully see and feel a bit of what I have been observing here. So, let's get started.
The shift from our layover in Dubai to Kenya was quite a shock to my system. I knew that we'd be traveling from the United States - a well-off country - to the United Arab Emirates - an very rich country - to Kenya - a very poor country. However, such a theory can only take one's understanding so far. Perhaps this will sound harsh to some, but I was quite sickened by my experience in Dubai. I was reminded several times of a quote I agree with very much as I was taken on tour throughout the city at night - "People had too much. They threw away things people kill each other over now." (The Book of Eli, a post-apocalyptic movie). But my inner disgust grew even more when I landed in Kenya. My first thoughts upon landing in Kenya and leaving the airport was that I actually felt like I was in another country, and that somehow comforted me far more than when we stopped in Dubai for those 15 hours or so. I will say this once, and I'll probably revisit the idea again later - we have so much more than we need, and we hardly take advantage of it all. Especially each others' good company.
We were greeted by Chris Okuna and his nephew Lips. They shook our hands, as well as hugged us. I immediately felt welcome and as if I were entering into a new home, though we wouldn't even reach the Okuna home for at least another hour. I will try not to revisit my Dubai experience, since my objective here is to relate my Kenya experience to you, but I believe it is important to let you know what will hopefully be my last negative remark about a place many of you probably haven't visited for yourselves - I have stressed and may continue to stress that Kenya feels like a home to me, and I will give that a contrast by telling you that Dubai felt like a theme park. A place full of wonder (for the first few hours), with many touristy-y "rides", many people, and lots of things to buy for no less than what will empty your wallet. The others called it the Las Vegas of this side of the world. I've never been there, so I can only call it Disneyland, since I was reminded of the shallow nature of it all. But, I apologize - I am not here to give a "bad review" on Dubai. Again, I wish to provide you with a contrast. So, I will make one last comment about it and move on - something I remember one of us saying is that, "Dubai actually makes me feel good about America." They were, of course, referring to how many resources we have so that we can provide for our needs, as well as many, many comforts. Well, Dubai has that times about 100.
Anyway, back to Kenya. I have to say that yesterday night was actually the night I was supposed to have written this blog entry for you all. However, let me just say that Kenya time moves very slowly, allowing for a very great amount of activities to get done. These activities, in turn, require a very great amount of energy, and I've still not gotten a very great amount of sleep. This all adds up to me making up excuses for why I didn't complete this homework yesterday night like Matt Seadore had told me to. :) No, but seriously - the reason I decided to hold off writing this first entry until tonight was because last night I was writing a report of what happened on our first day in Kenya. I couldn't do it - the words themselves felt hollow and too constricted, since I was trying to share my experience rather than report it. Therefore, I waited to collect and organize my thoughts and feelings until tonight (heh, that didn't work out very well, I guess).
I just had a blank moment after briefly talking to Jordan Burnam, the other college student with us and my roommate. I confessed to him that I was nervous about how you will all receive my writing style. He told me to "just be honest". As we closed our little chat, we noted that in just our short time of two days here, we've still not been able to process very much of what's happened to us. Tell me, how can I express to you what it first felt like to go to Raila School, where 900 students are enrolled? How shall I tell you what it feels like that to get there, we actually travel into the Kibera Slum, through dirt roads lined with rusty, metal shacks that serve as shops? How do I feel when we are being shown around the school full of children, youths, and young adults and a broken sewer line has created a thin stream of brown water that cross in front of the dining hall and across the field? Honestly? I do not truly know how to put that in words, except that I suddenly feel like crying just by writing it down. But, wait - it gets better. And I'm not being sarcastic - I mean it.
The first time we entered through its gates, the gate keeper was smiling and waving to us through the land rover's glass. We knew not what to do except wave right back, incapable of not including a smile to return the kindness. A young man named Philip took us around the school grounds, introducing us to teachers, administrators, and staff. They were all very welcoming and courteous. We were shown the kitchen and the cooking area outside, where a very hearty and cost-efficient meal was being prepared for the students' lunch. We were shown inside the center for women by a very warm and welcoming women named Anna. This place offers training for trades of sewing, weaving, beading, and more to bring in a source of income for their families in the slum. The merchandise was all very impressive and creative, the most ingenious being a fireless cooker. Other items that caught my attention were ties and belts many exclusively out of small beads. I may have to purchase my first souvenir from here. Resiliency, resourcefulness, and efficiency. Not to mention a warm and loving nature on top of and throughout it all.
But, wait still - it gets better again. We exited the front door of the trade-training center only to see a class of children in the field all looking at us and chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Philip led us to them, leaving us vulnerable to being swarmed by the toddlers. They grabbed my hands, repeatedly asking one of the few English phrases they new but probably didn't understand - "How are you? How are you? How are you?" Yes, the energy was high, and their chatter in Kiswahili was very interesting. Before I knew it, I was laughing uncontrollably as I played with them by lifting them up a bit as they latched onto my arms. I couldn't remember the slum just outside the gates, nor the strong smell caused by the a broken sewer line, nor my thoughts of the true poverty I had seen thus far within the very city limits of Nairobi, capital of Kenya. I could hardly even notice that these children were dirty in their school uniforms. What I did notice were a bunch of bright and wide eyes staring up at me, vying for my attention and love. And I couldn't help but oblige.
Let's skip ahead, since this is starting to get long. We'll pick up where Philip and Anna led us through the Kibera Slum. Everywhere, intermingled amidst the vendors and their merchandise, there is refuse and debris. They look us over as we walk through their neighborhood. Philip tells us that whatever you need, you can find in Kibera, though it will be stolen. He also tells us that there are other pockets of people living in a similar conditions elsewhere in Nairobi, culminating in about 80% of the population living under such conditions. How does one react to information like that? Later that night, Chris Okuna would show me a short film about an HIV positive boy whose parents are most likely dead, leaving him to fend for himself (usually resulting in his not eating for three days). His dream is to become a pilot to fly far away from the slum where he could meet with his parents to hug him and kiss him and love him. Chris new the boy personally and helped make the video a year or so ago. He has since lost contact with him.
As we walk through the slum, an elderly women walks quickly out of an alleyway just as we're about to pass it (actually, it turns out it's actually a route to a deeper part of the neighborhood). Anna calls out to her, and she turns with a welcoming smile. Her name is Miriam, and she later told us that she had felt rushed as if late for an appointment. We all credited it to a divine appointment by God, since the timing was uncanny - if she had not hurried, we would have passed the "alleyway" and never spotted her. She took us back through a complicated path that was steep, tight, and slippery (due to open refuse creating a small, brown stream). We came across three children sitting in the dirt just outside their "street's" gate, without their mother in sight. They weren't just children - they were infants. There mothers may have been like the mothers Miriam would tell us about later - unable to care for them at the work place, so they have to leave them at home to eat soil. Literally.
When we came to Miriam's street and entered through the gate, I noticed that there were several "houses" built on other side. She welcomed us into her home immediately, which was behind a close line. Once inside, we had to shuffle around sideways to scoot onto the two benches, one possibly being Miriam's own bed. It was tight, but I didn't mind. I was too busy studying the surroundings, but more so listening to the conversation that followed. But first, she asked if she could pray for us. By then, I was already deeply troubled by what I'd seen thus far, as well as deeply touched that she had invited all of us into her home on a whim, but then that she wanted to pray for us and our mission. I wanted to cry, but I knew it was not an acceptable thing to do just then. I was thankful, but even more so I was humbled by her humble and lowly spirit. She told us of all the amazing ministries she had participated in and leads and plans to lead. She told us of her great gratitude for us, crediting all of the good things in her life to God. Philip and Anna both chimed in around the end, also showing their great gratitude for MVC's contributions to First Love over the years. Philip was especially grateful, as he once attended Raila School himself, and credits its continued success to those funding it like MVC. We left and were guided back through the complicated and dangerous route by Miriam, who had no trouble traversing the terrain at all. We said our farewells and parted ways.
It is 9:26PM now. Jordan has just walked in to sleep. We wake for breakfast at 5:30AM, since we leave at 6AM. I've been working on this entry for well over an hour, and technically well over 24 since my first attempt failed miserably last night. Honestly, I don't know what else to say, nor how to end. I know I have been jumping from event to event, probably not explaining things as much as you'd like. For that, I apologize - I wish all of you could somehow be here as well, with me and the others, so that you could have your own experiences. For it is quite impossible for any of us to really share our experiences fully, especially since we can't even process all that's happened in just the two days we've been here! Heck, I haven't even told y'all about the rest of the Raila School experience, nor the Karen Orphanage experience yesterday or today, nor the food we've eaten! There is so much to tell even in just a straight forward report, let alone that I somehow relate how I truly feel about all of this. I do apologize for being unable to, for I wish it were possible to. :)
All I can say is this for now - God is truly moving here, amongst these people, our Brothers and Sisters in Kenya. For those that believe in Him, they are comforted greatly even in the midst of a situation I would despair in. There is love and acceptance here amongst those involved in First Love, regardless of your skin color, language, or level of intelligence. I want more of our Lord Jesus to shine through the situations I'm placed in so that I and the team can become even more dazzled by His glory. Pray for our supernatural encounters - that we would enter into them wholeheartedly with the Lord, without fear or hesitation. Pray that we would pour out ourselves entirely to welcome in the love and power of the Holy Spirit. And pray for our Kenya Fellows in Christ - for it is right to lift one another up to the Lord.
So. Yeah. That was my first one - may there be many more, but perhaps more organized and coherent. :) I love you, my Fellows. I pray for your continued growth with the Lord back home, for He is surely moving and working mightily there as well.
May the Lord bless you and protect you. May the Lord smile on you and be gracious to you. May the Lord show you His favor and give you His peace. (Numbers 6:24-26)
Jesus loves you. Peace be with you.
- Kevin.
Disclaimer: Hey y'all, my name is Kevin Bonzo. I'm now in my 20s as of July 5, I'm one of the two college students on this trip, and I have long, black hair. That last sentence probably didn't make a whole lot of sense, since you don't have a context in which to understand what I've said. But here's the context I want you guys to read my perspective of this trip from - informal, expressive, and often emotional. As a matter of fact, just read it as if you were reading my personal journal. Each of the six of us on the Kenya team will be blogging about our experiences; it is my full intention to not merely report to you but to share with you as much as I can so that you will hopefully see and feel a bit of what I have been observing here. So, let's get started.
The shift from our layover in Dubai to Kenya was quite a shock to my system. I knew that we'd be traveling from the United States - a well-off country - to the United Arab Emirates - an very rich country - to Kenya - a very poor country. However, such a theory can only take one's understanding so far. Perhaps this will sound harsh to some, but I was quite sickened by my experience in Dubai. I was reminded several times of a quote I agree with very much as I was taken on tour throughout the city at night - "People had too much. They threw away things people kill each other over now." (The Book of Eli, a post-apocalyptic movie). But my inner disgust grew even more when I landed in Kenya. My first thoughts upon landing in Kenya and leaving the airport was that I actually felt like I was in another country, and that somehow comforted me far more than when we stopped in Dubai for those 15 hours or so. I will say this once, and I'll probably revisit the idea again later - we have so much more than we need, and we hardly take advantage of it all. Especially each others' good company.
We were greeted by Chris Okuna and his nephew Lips. They shook our hands, as well as hugged us. I immediately felt welcome and as if I were entering into a new home, though we wouldn't even reach the Okuna home for at least another hour. I will try not to revisit my Dubai experience, since my objective here is to relate my Kenya experience to you, but I believe it is important to let you know what will hopefully be my last negative remark about a place many of you probably haven't visited for yourselves - I have stressed and may continue to stress that Kenya feels like a home to me, and I will give that a contrast by telling you that Dubai felt like a theme park. A place full of wonder (for the first few hours), with many touristy-y "rides", many people, and lots of things to buy for no less than what will empty your wallet. The others called it the Las Vegas of this side of the world. I've never been there, so I can only call it Disneyland, since I was reminded of the shallow nature of it all. But, I apologize - I am not here to give a "bad review" on Dubai. Again, I wish to provide you with a contrast. So, I will make one last comment about it and move on - something I remember one of us saying is that, "Dubai actually makes me feel good about America." They were, of course, referring to how many resources we have so that we can provide for our needs, as well as many, many comforts. Well, Dubai has that times about 100.
Anyway, back to Kenya. I have to say that yesterday night was actually the night I was supposed to have written this blog entry for you all. However, let me just say that Kenya time moves very slowly, allowing for a very great amount of activities to get done. These activities, in turn, require a very great amount of energy, and I've still not gotten a very great amount of sleep. This all adds up to me making up excuses for why I didn't complete this homework yesterday night like Matt Seadore had told me to. :) No, but seriously - the reason I decided to hold off writing this first entry until tonight was because last night I was writing a report of what happened on our first day in Kenya. I couldn't do it - the words themselves felt hollow and too constricted, since I was trying to share my experience rather than report it. Therefore, I waited to collect and organize my thoughts and feelings until tonight (heh, that didn't work out very well, I guess).
I just had a blank moment after briefly talking to Jordan Burnam, the other college student with us and my roommate. I confessed to him that I was nervous about how you will all receive my writing style. He told me to "just be honest". As we closed our little chat, we noted that in just our short time of two days here, we've still not been able to process very much of what's happened to us. Tell me, how can I express to you what it first felt like to go to Raila School, where 900 students are enrolled? How shall I tell you what it feels like that to get there, we actually travel into the Kibera Slum, through dirt roads lined with rusty, metal shacks that serve as shops? How do I feel when we are being shown around the school full of children, youths, and young adults and a broken sewer line has created a thin stream of brown water that cross in front of the dining hall and across the field? Honestly? I do not truly know how to put that in words, except that I suddenly feel like crying just by writing it down. But, wait - it gets better. And I'm not being sarcastic - I mean it.
The first time we entered through its gates, the gate keeper was smiling and waving to us through the land rover's glass. We knew not what to do except wave right back, incapable of not including a smile to return the kindness. A young man named Philip took us around the school grounds, introducing us to teachers, administrators, and staff. They were all very welcoming and courteous. We were shown the kitchen and the cooking area outside, where a very hearty and cost-efficient meal was being prepared for the students' lunch. We were shown inside the center for women by a very warm and welcoming women named Anna. This place offers training for trades of sewing, weaving, beading, and more to bring in a source of income for their families in the slum. The merchandise was all very impressive and creative, the most ingenious being a fireless cooker. Other items that caught my attention were ties and belts many exclusively out of small beads. I may have to purchase my first souvenir from here. Resiliency, resourcefulness, and efficiency. Not to mention a warm and loving nature on top of and throughout it all.
But, wait still - it gets better again. We exited the front door of the trade-training center only to see a class of children in the field all looking at us and chattering excitedly amongst themselves. Philip led us to them, leaving us vulnerable to being swarmed by the toddlers. They grabbed my hands, repeatedly asking one of the few English phrases they new but probably didn't understand - "How are you? How are you? How are you?" Yes, the energy was high, and their chatter in Kiswahili was very interesting. Before I knew it, I was laughing uncontrollably as I played with them by lifting them up a bit as they latched onto my arms. I couldn't remember the slum just outside the gates, nor the strong smell caused by the a broken sewer line, nor my thoughts of the true poverty I had seen thus far within the very city limits of Nairobi, capital of Kenya. I could hardly even notice that these children were dirty in their school uniforms. What I did notice were a bunch of bright and wide eyes staring up at me, vying for my attention and love. And I couldn't help but oblige.
Let's skip ahead, since this is starting to get long. We'll pick up where Philip and Anna led us through the Kibera Slum. Everywhere, intermingled amidst the vendors and their merchandise, there is refuse and debris. They look us over as we walk through their neighborhood. Philip tells us that whatever you need, you can find in Kibera, though it will be stolen. He also tells us that there are other pockets of people living in a similar conditions elsewhere in Nairobi, culminating in about 80% of the population living under such conditions. How does one react to information like that? Later that night, Chris Okuna would show me a short film about an HIV positive boy whose parents are most likely dead, leaving him to fend for himself (usually resulting in his not eating for three days). His dream is to become a pilot to fly far away from the slum where he could meet with his parents to hug him and kiss him and love him. Chris new the boy personally and helped make the video a year or so ago. He has since lost contact with him.
As we walk through the slum, an elderly women walks quickly out of an alleyway just as we're about to pass it (actually, it turns out it's actually a route to a deeper part of the neighborhood). Anna calls out to her, and she turns with a welcoming smile. Her name is Miriam, and she later told us that she had felt rushed as if late for an appointment. We all credited it to a divine appointment by God, since the timing was uncanny - if she had not hurried, we would have passed the "alleyway" and never spotted her. She took us back through a complicated path that was steep, tight, and slippery (due to open refuse creating a small, brown stream). We came across three children sitting in the dirt just outside their "street's" gate, without their mother in sight. They weren't just children - they were infants. There mothers may have been like the mothers Miriam would tell us about later - unable to care for them at the work place, so they have to leave them at home to eat soil. Literally.
When we came to Miriam's street and entered through the gate, I noticed that there were several "houses" built on other side. She welcomed us into her home immediately, which was behind a close line. Once inside, we had to shuffle around sideways to scoot onto the two benches, one possibly being Miriam's own bed. It was tight, but I didn't mind. I was too busy studying the surroundings, but more so listening to the conversation that followed. But first, she asked if she could pray for us. By then, I was already deeply troubled by what I'd seen thus far, as well as deeply touched that she had invited all of us into her home on a whim, but then that she wanted to pray for us and our mission. I wanted to cry, but I knew it was not an acceptable thing to do just then. I was thankful, but even more so I was humbled by her humble and lowly spirit. She told us of all the amazing ministries she had participated in and leads and plans to lead. She told us of her great gratitude for us, crediting all of the good things in her life to God. Philip and Anna both chimed in around the end, also showing their great gratitude for MVC's contributions to First Love over the years. Philip was especially grateful, as he once attended Raila School himself, and credits its continued success to those funding it like MVC. We left and were guided back through the complicated and dangerous route by Miriam, who had no trouble traversing the terrain at all. We said our farewells and parted ways.
It is 9:26PM now. Jordan has just walked in to sleep. We wake for breakfast at 5:30AM, since we leave at 6AM. I've been working on this entry for well over an hour, and technically well over 24 since my first attempt failed miserably last night. Honestly, I don't know what else to say, nor how to end. I know I have been jumping from event to event, probably not explaining things as much as you'd like. For that, I apologize - I wish all of you could somehow be here as well, with me and the others, so that you could have your own experiences. For it is quite impossible for any of us to really share our experiences fully, especially since we can't even process all that's happened in just the two days we've been here! Heck, I haven't even told y'all about the rest of the Raila School experience, nor the Karen Orphanage experience yesterday or today, nor the food we've eaten! There is so much to tell even in just a straight forward report, let alone that I somehow relate how I truly feel about all of this. I do apologize for being unable to, for I wish it were possible to. :)
All I can say is this for now - God is truly moving here, amongst these people, our Brothers and Sisters in Kenya. For those that believe in Him, they are comforted greatly even in the midst of a situation I would despair in. There is love and acceptance here amongst those involved in First Love, regardless of your skin color, language, or level of intelligence. I want more of our Lord Jesus to shine through the situations I'm placed in so that I and the team can become even more dazzled by His glory. Pray for our supernatural encounters - that we would enter into them wholeheartedly with the Lord, without fear or hesitation. Pray that we would pour out ourselves entirely to welcome in the love and power of the Holy Spirit. And pray for our Kenya Fellows in Christ - for it is right to lift one another up to the Lord.
So. Yeah. That was my first one - may there be many more, but perhaps more organized and coherent. :) I love you, my Fellows. I pray for your continued growth with the Lord back home, for He is surely moving and working mightily there as well.
May the Lord bless you and protect you. May the Lord smile on you and be gracious to you. May the Lord show you His favor and give you His peace. (Numbers 6:24-26)
Jesus loves you. Peace be with you.
- Kevin.
From: Lorna Seadore - Kenya Team 7/16 10:00am
Today we headed into Nairobi to purchase crown molding and hinges for work on the dormitory at the orphanage. There is no such thing as Home Depot here! We went to a very poor area of the city. There are small shops in run down buildings and shacks. We were amazed at the amount of people on the streets. People carrying all kinds of loads on their heads. Trash littering the roadsides. First we went to a small shop for the hinges. Then went next door to the "lumber yard". Sawdust filled the air, as well as our throats. It was quite interesting to see all the laborers running lumber through the table saws. It appears that there are no safety measures necessary!
After leaving the city, Michelle (Johnson) and I were dropped off at Raila School while the guys went on to the orphanage to sand and stain roughly 1000 linear feet of crown molding in the new dormitory building. Michelle and I worked in the kitchen again today. We served porridge to some of the students and then quickly helped to wash all the cups so that we could be ready for serving lunch. We are in awe of how hard the kitchen ladies work! They cook, haul food and water, serve, clean, and begin the whole cycle again for each group coming in throughout the morning and afternoon. We served lunch to the smallest children at the school first. The youngest were only four years old! They are so tiny. I am already trying to figure out how I can bring some of them home with me. Many of the students bring plastic containers which we were able to fill with extra food that they can take home in order to have something for dinner. Many of them share this food with younger siblings who may not have had any food yet that day.
When you walk out into the dining hall after serving you are met with many shouts of "How are you?" For many of the young students, this is the only phrase they know in English. They know that it will get a response. They love to shake your hand or hang on your arm. They also share the biggest smiles I have ever seen. Although, there are some who have no smile to share. They wear the difficulty of their lives on their little faces.
We met two such children today. They were brothers. At four and seven, they have experienced more than many of us can imagine. Irene explained that they have been having a lot of difficulty in school as of late. They sit alone at recess. They take any opportunity to leave the busyness of the classroom. The four year old had come to the point that he would not speak. Their uniform shorts could barely stay on their small frames. Irene had asked the teachers to investigate where they were living and ask their mother to come into the school to speak with her. Today she did. Only, she is not their mother. Both their mother and father have died. Their 21 year old aunt is the sole gaurdian now. She began caring for them when the youngest was only 3 months old, at only 18. She has struggled every day to feed, clothe, and care for these two boys. She takes the boys to the school at 6:00 a.m. And then goes out to try to find some work in order to provide. She stays out until 7:00 - 8:00 in the evening trying to earn meager wages by doing laundry, or other chores. This means that the boys are left alone for long periods of time. The neighbors have been very cruel to the children and will chase them away if they try to come over. The aunt has told everyone that they are her own children. Now that Irene has found out that they are in fact orphans, First Love can begin to help the aunt with food and other items. Before she left the school, Irene gave her flour and other basic food staples. She began to cry when she saw them. And the little four year olds face broke into a smile. It is amazing what small kindnesses can do in the lives of these children.
This afternoon Irene brought the boys into the office to meet us. They very shyly shook our hands and whispered their names. The seven year old came to stand by me and held my hand for many minutes. His face was almost expressionless. He had so much sadness in his eyes.
My eyes welled up as I looked at them and realized that these children are the same ages as my girls. Jaida and Brooklin have never had to worry about if they will have food, or if they will be safe at night. They have never been left to fend for themselves for hours at a time.
Everything in my being wanted to wrap these little boys in my arms and take them home with me. And yet the slum of Kibera is filled with many thousands of children in the same situation. They have no voice. They have no security. They are just innocent children. It is overwhelming. My heart hardly knows what to do with all the emotions swirling around inside me.
As Americans we can so easily isolate ourselves from the reality of injustices such as these. We are safe in the cocoon of our perfectly ordered worlds. My prayer tonight is that we, as the Body of Christ, would take the time to evaluate how we can follow Jesus call to love the least of these around us. Wherever that may be.
After leaving the city, Michelle (Johnson) and I were dropped off at Raila School while the guys went on to the orphanage to sand and stain roughly 1000 linear feet of crown molding in the new dormitory building. Michelle and I worked in the kitchen again today. We served porridge to some of the students and then quickly helped to wash all the cups so that we could be ready for serving lunch. We are in awe of how hard the kitchen ladies work! They cook, haul food and water, serve, clean, and begin the whole cycle again for each group coming in throughout the morning and afternoon. We served lunch to the smallest children at the school first. The youngest were only four years old! They are so tiny. I am already trying to figure out how I can bring some of them home with me. Many of the students bring plastic containers which we were able to fill with extra food that they can take home in order to have something for dinner. Many of them share this food with younger siblings who may not have had any food yet that day.
When you walk out into the dining hall after serving you are met with many shouts of "How are you?" For many of the young students, this is the only phrase they know in English. They know that it will get a response. They love to shake your hand or hang on your arm. They also share the biggest smiles I have ever seen. Although, there are some who have no smile to share. They wear the difficulty of their lives on their little faces.
We met two such children today. They were brothers. At four and seven, they have experienced more than many of us can imagine. Irene explained that they have been having a lot of difficulty in school as of late. They sit alone at recess. They take any opportunity to leave the busyness of the classroom. The four year old had come to the point that he would not speak. Their uniform shorts could barely stay on their small frames. Irene had asked the teachers to investigate where they were living and ask their mother to come into the school to speak with her. Today she did. Only, she is not their mother. Both their mother and father have died. Their 21 year old aunt is the sole gaurdian now. She began caring for them when the youngest was only 3 months old, at only 18. She has struggled every day to feed, clothe, and care for these two boys. She takes the boys to the school at 6:00 a.m. And then goes out to try to find some work in order to provide. She stays out until 7:00 - 8:00 in the evening trying to earn meager wages by doing laundry, or other chores. This means that the boys are left alone for long periods of time. The neighbors have been very cruel to the children and will chase them away if they try to come over. The aunt has told everyone that they are her own children. Now that Irene has found out that they are in fact orphans, First Love can begin to help the aunt with food and other items. Before she left the school, Irene gave her flour and other basic food staples. She began to cry when she saw them. And the little four year olds face broke into a smile. It is amazing what small kindnesses can do in the lives of these children.
This afternoon Irene brought the boys into the office to meet us. They very shyly shook our hands and whispered their names. The seven year old came to stand by me and held my hand for many minutes. His face was almost expressionless. He had so much sadness in his eyes.
My eyes welled up as I looked at them and realized that these children are the same ages as my girls. Jaida and Brooklin have never had to worry about if they will have food, or if they will be safe at night. They have never been left to fend for themselves for hours at a time.
Everything in my being wanted to wrap these little boys in my arms and take them home with me. And yet the slum of Kibera is filled with many thousands of children in the same situation. They have no voice. They have no security. They are just innocent children. It is overwhelming. My heart hardly knows what to do with all the emotions swirling around inside me.
As Americans we can so easily isolate ourselves from the reality of injustices such as these. We are safe in the cocoon of our perfectly ordered worlds. My prayer tonight is that we, as the Body of Christ, would take the time to evaluate how we can follow Jesus call to love the least of these around us. Wherever that may be.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Living Water
Drinkable water is a scarce commodity for much of this region. A year ago, many of us participated in an effort to provide a well for some villages in desperate need of this most basic commodity. As a result, these people not only have access to clean drinking water, but are able to better care for their animals, and are growing much of their own food. As vital as these physical benefits are, we rejoice that many also have received the Living Water. Ask me about that when you see me, and I will be glad to share the story.
Tomorrow night, Dave and I begin our journey home, blessed to have been part of the discussions of the last few days on the B people work. Believers in this area gather on Fridays, so we will join them in worship tomorrow morning. We look forward to being back in our home church, worshipping with our family and friends on Sunday. We offer our deepest thanks to those who have joined us in prayer on this journey.
Blessings,
Gary
Tomorrow night, Dave and I begin our journey home, blessed to have been part of the discussions of the last few days on the B people work. Believers in this area gather on Fridays, so we will join them in worship tomorrow morning. We look forward to being back in our home church, worshipping with our family and friends on Sunday. We offer our deepest thanks to those who have joined us in prayer on this journey.
Blessings,
Gary
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Update from Sudan: Cal Mast
Greetings,
I (Cal) have the opportunity to try to put into words the experience we’ve just had in southern Sudan. When Jon wrote last we were anticipating leaving for Sudan the next morning. We did in fact leave Wed. morning but missed our first flight. God was still in control and allowed us to take a later flight, which still enabled us to make a connection with an AIM flight into Sudan before dark.
Having made this same trip three and a half years ago I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. My biggest surprise was how the community had shrunk in size – 20,000 down to 6,500. The 22 year civil war ended in 2005, allowing the refugees from the camps in Uganda to return to Sudan. The first problem they faced upon return was that their homelands were occupied by IDP (internally displaced people). This forced them to build new camps/compounds around the edges. As the IDP moved back to their homelands, many spaces were freed up near the community center for the outsiders to move into. Now that the community is consolidated the people of Labone have better access to clean water. They can use the bore holes (wells) instead of the creeks and streams which are shared by bathers and animals.
We began CHE training Thurs. morning only to be interrupted by the campaigns of some traveling politicians. The south Sudanese will have opportunity to vote next month, which for many will be a new experience. After folks returned from the campaign rally we continued training, finishing the day with theological training for the pastors provided by the Minot ND guys.
The next day we were told that we would need to take a break to attend a funeral for the chief who had died a year and a half ago. We did a few more CHE lessons in the morning then went to the funeral at noon. This was the chiefs third funeral just to make sure every person had an opportunity to attend. This chief was a man who I met three years ago during my first visit. During that time he gave the church (Evangelical Free Church of Southern Sudan) a piece of land on which to build a church and establish a compound. The new chief, a grandson of the former one is a man I also knew. It was a great honor for me to be asked to pray and assist Pastor Luke (the EFCA pastor) lay a wreath on the chiefs grave.
After the funeral we taught a couple more lessons and concluded much the same way we had the day before. Daylight is basically from 6:00 am until 6:00 pm. Dinner was eaten by flashlight as there is no electricity in the community. The good news is basically every meal was the same – the bad news is basically every meal was the same so light really didn’t matter.
On Saturday our only interruption was rain because we held our meetings outside. Even though we weren’t able to cover all the material we intended, we offered some of the leadership of Labone a glimpse of what a CHE program would look like.
Sunday we all attended church. Unfortunately the prime piece of ground we were given to build a church on is now located about a half a mile outside of town. This is not a big problem unless everyone has to walk in order to get there. The church is made up of mainly women and children – few men. We enjoyed the service with them and are excited about what God can do in this community. The CHE presentation we made leaves the ball in their court - we left them the end of the rope which they now have to pick up and pull. God is working in Labone and we are glad to have been able to witness it.
Yours in Him,
Cal
I (Cal) have the opportunity to try to put into words the experience we’ve just had in southern Sudan. When Jon wrote last we were anticipating leaving for Sudan the next morning. We did in fact leave Wed. morning but missed our first flight. God was still in control and allowed us to take a later flight, which still enabled us to make a connection with an AIM flight into Sudan before dark.
Having made this same trip three and a half years ago I had a pretty good idea of what to expect. My biggest surprise was how the community had shrunk in size – 20,000 down to 6,500. The 22 year civil war ended in 2005, allowing the refugees from the camps in Uganda to return to Sudan. The first problem they faced upon return was that their homelands were occupied by IDP (internally displaced people). This forced them to build new camps/compounds around the edges. As the IDP moved back to their homelands, many spaces were freed up near the community center for the outsiders to move into. Now that the community is consolidated the people of Labone have better access to clean water. They can use the bore holes (wells) instead of the creeks and streams which are shared by bathers and animals.
We began CHE training Thurs. morning only to be interrupted by the campaigns of some traveling politicians. The south Sudanese will have opportunity to vote next month, which for many will be a new experience. After folks returned from the campaign rally we continued training, finishing the day with theological training for the pastors provided by the Minot ND guys.
The next day we were told that we would need to take a break to attend a funeral for the chief who had died a year and a half ago. We did a few more CHE lessons in the morning then went to the funeral at noon. This was the chiefs third funeral just to make sure every person had an opportunity to attend. This chief was a man who I met three years ago during my first visit. During that time he gave the church (Evangelical Free Church of Southern Sudan) a piece of land on which to build a church and establish a compound. The new chief, a grandson of the former one is a man I also knew. It was a great honor for me to be asked to pray and assist Pastor Luke (the EFCA pastor) lay a wreath on the chiefs grave.
After the funeral we taught a couple more lessons and concluded much the same way we had the day before. Daylight is basically from 6:00 am until 6:00 pm. Dinner was eaten by flashlight as there is no electricity in the community. The good news is basically every meal was the same – the bad news is basically every meal was the same so light really didn’t matter.
On Saturday our only interruption was rain because we held our meetings outside. Even though we weren’t able to cover all the material we intended, we offered some of the leadership of Labone a glimpse of what a CHE program would look like.
Sunday we all attended church. Unfortunately the prime piece of ground we were given to build a church on is now located about a half a mile outside of town. This is not a big problem unless everyone has to walk in order to get there. The church is made up of mainly women and children – few men. We enjoyed the service with them and are excited about what God can do in this community. The CHE presentation we made leaves the ball in their court - we left them the end of the rope which they now have to pick up and pull. God is working in Labone and we are glad to have been able to witness it.
Yours in Him,
Cal
South Asia Update: God's Work is Pretty Big
It is a humbling experience to be surrounded by a group of people,who have a much deeper and broader perspective of what God is doing in both bringing and using a people group to literally bring multitudes to Himself.
Today was a day in which I am again reminded that God is great and that we are privileged, to at least in a small way be involved in what He is doing.
The challenge in front of our group, is to see if we can help close the gaps in some areas of this movement and to examine how other areas like translation, can bring greater depth to the work of the Spirit that God is accomplishing.
As we have reviewed the unique expansion which has happened yearly,we are looking forward with anticipation to see what the future holds.
Dave
Today was a day in which I am again reminded that God is great and that we are privileged, to at least in a small way be involved in what He is doing.
The challenge in front of our group, is to see if we can help close the gaps in some areas of this movement and to examine how other areas like translation, can bring greater depth to the work of the Spirit that God is accomplishing.
As we have reviewed the unique expansion which has happened yearly,we are looking forward with anticipation to see what the future holds.
Dave
Tuesday, March 9, 2010
South Asia Update: Encountering the Truth
"J and "D" were studying the book of Luke with a B people couple. The husband had already become a follower of Christ, but the wife was still outside the faith. On this particular day, they came to the story in Luke 5 about some men lowering a paralytic on a mat through the roof, so that he lay before Jesus. In v. 24, Jesus says "But that you may know that the Son of Man has authority on earth to forgive sins, I tell you, get up, take your mat and go home." Asked what she thought about this, the wife responded "I will need some time to think about this, because in this statement, Jesus is claiming to be God." She got it, and she is not alone. Thousands of individuals among the B people and neighboring ethnic groups in South Asia are being confronted with the claims and Christ, and many of them are responding by becoming his followers. We have completed two days of meetings on the B people work, and I am so encouraged by what I am hearing. Sure, there are challenges--persecution, lack of funding, a heavy load on top leaders--but the gospel is spreading across this land and into neighboring countries. The One with the authority to forgive sins is doing just that. Gary |
Saturday, March 6, 2010
South Asia Update: An Unexpected Meeting
| Last month, when we booked our flights to South Asia, we planned a couple of days in London with Tim and Brigitte and their family. When we made our plans, we did not realize the Lord was going to provide the opportunity for a meeting on Bible translation while we were here. Over recent weeks, I have been corresponding with the Eurasia director of an organization that facilitates Bible translations by indigenous teams. Earlier this week, I found out that person was going to be here the very same days as us, meeting with members of their organization who focus on the region in which the B people live. So yesterday afternoon, we were able to sit down and discuss the needs for Bible translation in the B people homeland, and what it would look like to work together. This was an encouraging first step, and as we continue our journey to South Asia Saturday night, we will be able to take this information with us. Over 20% of the community in which Tim and Brigitte live consists of immigrants from South Asia. The church they attend is reaching out to the immigrant community through literature distribution and friendship evangelism. Brigitte has had many opportunities to spend time with ladies who feel isolated by life in a new land. Last night, they hosted a prayer meeting for people who are active in this outreach. It was neat to be able to join with them in prayer, and to see their passion for reaching their immigrant neighbors. Since visa issues will prevent Tim from participating in our meetings next week, we will spend time Saturday going over the agenda with him and getting his input on some of the things we will be discussing. Thank you for your prayers. |
Thursday, March 4, 2010
A Journey To South Asia
This afternoon, Dave and I will be heading to the airport to catch our flight to London. As we have been preparing for this journey, I have been touched by the words of so many who have said their prayers are going with us. It is difficult to put into words how much this means to us. And not just to us, but to those with whom we will be meeting. When I see Bruce and Hank, I will convey to them that there are people in our church who talked with me before we left and said they pray for them every day. Wow, what a greeting to bring to friends who serve under such challenging conditions. As I mentioned, our first stop on this journey will be London, where we will spend two days with Tim and Brigitte and their family. They have worked diligently to reach the B people for well over 20 years. Unfortunately, visa issues will prevent Tim from joining us for our meetings in South Asia. However, the Lord has brought an unexpected blessing, the chance to meet several people involved in facilitating Bible translations in South Asia. It is amazing how this came together. But I will leave those details for our next post. Thank you again for joining us on this journey through prayer. Gary |
Prayer Requests for Kenya / Sudan Team
March 3 – Searching Days
We will fly from Nairobi to Wilson on a commercial flight and then take a private plane from there into Labone. Our accommodations in Labone will be whatever we bring along by way of camping gear. We will be meeting our partners from Minot, ND on this trip on this day which is a prayer point for certain.
As we have been training here in Turlock for this trip, we have been given a mission by Global Outreach to present the CHE ministry to the nationals there. These people in Labone are facing some of the worst possible deficit in settling into a land and that is of experience and knowledge in everything from disease prevention, to community building, to micro business and more. Rather than going there to provide resources for them to do these things we are offering training and development for them to take ownership of the problems themselves and care for themselves.
Our partners from Minot have been returning to this particular group of people for three years now with a different mindset than that which Global Outreach is asking us to go. It is possible that our agenda’s might not mesh. This could make for a very stressful 6 days!
Pray that all of us from the states might release our agenda. Pray that we might be overpowered with a purpose and unity that flows from the Holy Spirit. Pray for eyes and ears that are tuned into the Kingdom and into the dignity and beauty of his children in this far away place.
I know that I will not be prepared to see what I will see there.
March 5 – Speaking Days
About this time we expect to lead a three day vision seminar for the CHE program. Pastor Luke is getting together a meeting of 60 to 100 nationals that we will be doing a presentation of several lessons with. As mentioned earlier, our hope is to empower and encourage these people to take control of their own futures and their own conditions. We will share about what it is that a people needs to become strong and healthy spiritually, physically, and economically.
Pray that we speak well and listen better. Pray for us as we visit the homes where children are diseased and malnourished and where darkness and oppression dwell like growling hounds in the room. Pray that we will not be overwhelmed with the pain that we will find but instead by a profound sense of Jesus peace and presence. May we set our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen.
Pray for unity in us as a team and with the team from Minot. Pray that we leave the people there with a clearer picture of what the Kingdom of God really is – both in them and in us.
Pray for the Labone people that they may release and forgive the way they have been shamed, hurt and diminished in the past by people like us offering handouts. That anger and suspicion can give way to hope and dignity.
We will fly from Nairobi to Wilson on a commercial flight and then take a private plane from there into Labone. Our accommodations in Labone will be whatever we bring along by way of camping gear. We will be meeting our partners from Minot, ND on this trip on this day which is a prayer point for certain.
As we have been training here in Turlock for this trip, we have been given a mission by Global Outreach to present the CHE ministry to the nationals there. These people in Labone are facing some of the worst possible deficit in settling into a land and that is of experience and knowledge in everything from disease prevention, to community building, to micro business and more. Rather than going there to provide resources for them to do these things we are offering training and development for them to take ownership of the problems themselves and care for themselves.
Our partners from Minot have been returning to this particular group of people for three years now with a different mindset than that which Global Outreach is asking us to go. It is possible that our agenda’s might not mesh. This could make for a very stressful 6 days!
Pray that all of us from the states might release our agenda. Pray that we might be overpowered with a purpose and unity that flows from the Holy Spirit. Pray for eyes and ears that are tuned into the Kingdom and into the dignity and beauty of his children in this far away place.
I know that I will not be prepared to see what I will see there.
March 5 – Speaking Days
About this time we expect to lead a three day vision seminar for the CHE program. Pastor Luke is getting together a meeting of 60 to 100 nationals that we will be doing a presentation of several lessons with. As mentioned earlier, our hope is to empower and encourage these people to take control of their own futures and their own conditions. We will share about what it is that a people needs to become strong and healthy spiritually, physically, and economically.
Pray that we speak well and listen better. Pray for us as we visit the homes where children are diseased and malnourished and where darkness and oppression dwell like growling hounds in the room. Pray that we will not be overwhelmed with the pain that we will find but instead by a profound sense of Jesus peace and presence. May we set our eyes not on what is seen but on what is unseen.
Pray for unity in us as a team and with the team from Minot. Pray that we leave the people there with a clearer picture of what the Kingdom of God really is – both in them and in us.
Pray for the Labone people that they may release and forgive the way they have been shamed, hurt and diminished in the past by people like us offering handouts. That anger and suspicion can give way to hope and dignity.
Monday, March 1, 2010
Update from Kenya from Jon Tacoma
Greetings,
Tomorrow we set out for the Sudan. We have our travel documents and hopefully will have no trouble as we fly north. We are excited to go. The visit here in Kenya has been rich but we are all ready to engage in the CHE work. While in Kenya we have been to First Love Kenya, Mavuno Downtown, the Kibera slum, and the school in Kibera that First Love has its feeding and support program.
The school blew me away. It was amazing to see how little these children have and how high they reach. I helped serve corn porridge in the morning and corn and beans in the afternoon to all ages. It is the exact same meal that they get every day. We walked around the campus and stepped into one of the primary classrooms. The room was crowded and many of the windows looking in on it were broken out. On the chalkboard written in very clear hand was information about erosion, environmental issues, and the water cycle. Each student had a note book that looked more like a text book as it was filled with very detailed notes representing the information on the board. Elsewhere, in a jam packed room- the same we served lunch and breakfast in - High School students were holding a compelling open forum discussion on government and leadership and the impact of the media – its good and bad aspects. Students were elbow to elbow and a moderator would call on individuals who would stand and enter into an improvised discussion. I was deeply impressed. There is a certain spark that you see in the eyes of a leader and I watched a half dozen of them and it gave me a great hope for the future of the residents of Kibera.
In fact, hope was the pervasive feeling I had as I walked through what might seem the most hopeless of places on earth. I am sure that it helped to see the school first. It was a horrible environment in which to live, let alone raise children. The trails/alleys were mud and water running with sewage. The shacks were made of tin and mud and the odd patch of concrete. Electrical wires hung too low for Cal to walk under and bent and twisted TV antennas poked up in sky. Dogs picked at the layers of garbage that were cast off by people sitting idle by their darkened shacks. Walking into tattered laundry or poles sticking out from the roofs was a very real danger since we were afraid to take our eyes off the trail for fear of slipping or stepping into something that should never be in a walkway. In fact we later learned of the practice of flying toilets which a preferred alternative to using the pay toilets which are a long walk for people, especially at night. People use plastic bags for their business and then give them a good fling out the door or down the alley to where a waterway might (or might not) be running. Kibera alone among the 5 major slums of Nairobi houses an estimated 1.3 million people.
As I finish typing this last piece, I find myself asking why I felt hope. I think it is because in the faces I did not feel the burning anger or despair that I expected. It is possible that the rate at which the country is developing and the level of education that has recently become available to the children and the awareness that global media is bringing to the community about what it is like in other places all contribute to a sense that there is a future. I stood at the door of the High School debate and I am convinced that this is the generation that will break the cycle of slum living for the people of Kenya. Our guides through the slum were two men who had both grown up in Kibera and now are staff at the school raising the eyes of the children that are following them.
I will sign off at this point, I am confident I went over whatever word allowance I was given for blogging. As you pray for us, pray for the ability to listen well and wisely and deeply once we set foot in Labone. It is going to be so critical that we hear as much as possible in the few short days before we begin to speak.
Your coworker in the gospel,
Jon
INTRODUCING THE SOUTH ASIA TEAM
For ten years now, our church has had a strategic focus on ministry among a large unreached ethnic group in South Asia. Due to the sensitivity of the work, we simply call them the B people. Numbering several million, there have been few followers of Christ among these people in the past. However, God has been on the move in amazing ways in recent years as we have seen a significant response to the gospel in many parts of their homeland. Once a year, those who are intimately involved in the work among the B people gather for a week of meetings in South Asia. The purpose of these meetings is to discuss the progress of the work over the past year, and to seek God’s direction for the work in the months to come. We invite you to pray for those from MVC who are attending these meetings by following this blog on our website.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
UPDATE from Kenya...from Ross Boren
First of all, we want to thank you for your prayers on our behalf. The trip here, though very long and tiring, went extremely well.
Yesterday (Saturday) we rested some from our travels and then Chris, our host and director of First Love Kenya, took us to see the orphanage at Karen. It is nothing short of amazing what God has provided to enable the 22 girls at the orphanage to start life anew. In the Kibera slum, they knew only loss, squalid living conditions and abuse from adults. In their new home, they have come to know newness of life, clean and safe living conditions, and unconditional love. It was exciting to see the new dormitory building going up and to imagine how many more young lives will be changed in the future as a result.
Today we attended the worship service at Mavuno Downtown church in Nairobi. We were made to feel very welcome and enjoyed thoroughly spending some personal time with Pastor Kyama at lunch afterwards.
That's a brief overview of what we have been doing so far. Now for a couple initial thoughts about Africa. One of the first things that struck me here is the redness of the soil almost everywhere one looks. It occurs to me that this is a particularly appropriate color in a place that has been ravaged by centuries of war and tribal bloodshed. Yet other blood has been shed over this continent as well -- the redemptive blood of Christ. While our Savior was not crucified on this continent, countless numbers of His faithful followers have given their lives here so that people throughout Africa might know the transformational love of God.
The other thought involves a man we met in the Amsterdam airport while waiting for our flight to Nairobi. He was a Christian man who had fled Rwanda years ago during the civil war there (think Hotel Rwanda) and ultimately ended up in Los Angeles, teaching at a Christian School. He was heading to Nairobi to attend the funeral of a close friend who had recently passed away. However, he had never been back to Rwanda. When we mentioned this man to Chris, it reminded him of how many African Christians have left their home continent to find better lives elsewhere. He pointed out that Africa's greatest hope lies God's people being willing to stay here and bring Christ's redeeming love to their communities and nations as they apply their spiritual gifts and talents to the brokenness around them.
As I sit here thinking of these things, I am saddened by my own tendency to want peace and safety more than taking the love of Christ to the places where it is needed most, whether in places like Africa or in my own neighborhood back home. Yet, the same loving Father who gave his son to demonstrate His love for Africans continues to patiently call me into a closeness with Him that will make my highest joy to join with Christ in His suffering, in order that I may someday share with Him in His glory.
Tomorrow we will experience the Kibera slum for the first time, as well as see the ministry that is taking place at the Raila School there. Please pray that God will fill us with a fresh vision of Himself, even in the midst of a place that defies imagination as to the sheer scope of its hopelessness."
Ross
Yesterday (Saturday) we rested some from our travels and then Chris, our host and director of First Love Kenya, took us to see the orphanage at Karen. It is nothing short of amazing what God has provided to enable the 22 girls at the orphanage to start life anew. In the Kibera slum, they knew only loss, squalid living conditions and abuse from adults. In their new home, they have come to know newness of life, clean and safe living conditions, and unconditional love. It was exciting to see the new dormitory building going up and to imagine how many more young lives will be changed in the future as a result.
Today we attended the worship service at Mavuno Downtown church in Nairobi. We were made to feel very welcome and enjoyed thoroughly spending some personal time with Pastor Kyama at lunch afterwards.
That's a brief overview of what we have been doing so far. Now for a couple initial thoughts about Africa. One of the first things that struck me here is the redness of the soil almost everywhere one looks. It occurs to me that this is a particularly appropriate color in a place that has been ravaged by centuries of war and tribal bloodshed. Yet other blood has been shed over this continent as well -- the redemptive blood of Christ. While our Savior was not crucified on this continent, countless numbers of His faithful followers have given their lives here so that people throughout Africa might know the transformational love of God.
The other thought involves a man we met in the Amsterdam airport while waiting for our flight to Nairobi. He was a Christian man who had fled Rwanda years ago during the civil war there (think Hotel Rwanda) and ultimately ended up in Los Angeles, teaching at a Christian School. He was heading to Nairobi to attend the funeral of a close friend who had recently passed away. However, he had never been back to Rwanda. When we mentioned this man to Chris, it reminded him of how many African Christians have left their home continent to find better lives elsewhere. He pointed out that Africa's greatest hope lies God's people being willing to stay here and bring Christ's redeeming love to their communities and nations as they apply their spiritual gifts and talents to the brokenness around them.
As I sit here thinking of these things, I am saddened by my own tendency to want peace and safety more than taking the love of Christ to the places where it is needed most, whether in places like Africa or in my own neighborhood back home. Yet, the same loving Father who gave his son to demonstrate His love for Africans continues to patiently call me into a closeness with Him that will make my highest joy to join with Christ in His suffering, in order that I may someday share with Him in His glory.
Tomorrow we will experience the Kibera slum for the first time, as well as see the ministry that is taking place at the Raila School there. Please pray that God will fill us with a fresh vision of Himself, even in the midst of a place that defies imagination as to the sheer scope of its hopelessness."
Ross
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Kenya / Sudan Team Tour
Feb 28 – Walking Days
I expect that the next few days will involve us listening and seeing. Our family in Africa has a different approach to this kind of a thing than we do. In our minds, a good thing to do while we are there is provide a training on the western way of thinking about something or maybe build a building for one of their ministries. While these things might possibly be helpful, we will be invited to a ministry of presence. They understand something that we lose sight of here in the west and that is how rich a gift of love it is to simply be present together. On our tour card for these days is the orphanage, the slum and the community school, and Mavuno Downtown which is a sister church of MVC in Nairobi.
Pray that my sprit might slow down enough that I might be able to listen to the Holy Spirit in the words and the faces of the people that I see. Pray that I might be attentive to what it is that Father wants to do in me. May the people I encounter feel the depth of God’s love for them in my bearing.
post written by Jon Tacoma
I expect that the next few days will involve us listening and seeing. Our family in Africa has a different approach to this kind of a thing than we do. In our minds, a good thing to do while we are there is provide a training on the western way of thinking about something or maybe build a building for one of their ministries. While these things might possibly be helpful, we will be invited to a ministry of presence. They understand something that we lose sight of here in the west and that is how rich a gift of love it is to simply be present together. On our tour card for these days is the orphanage, the slum and the community school, and Mavuno Downtown which is a sister church of MVC in Nairobi.
Pray that my sprit might slow down enough that I might be able to listen to the Holy Spirit in the words and the faces of the people that I see. Pray that I might be attentive to what it is that Father wants to do in me. May the people I encounter feel the depth of God’s love for them in my bearing.
post written by Jon Tacoma
Friday, February 26, 2010
Kenya / Sudan Team arrive in Africa
On this day we will wake up to other smells, other sounds, other languages, other food, other air. I pray on this day as we wake in the home of Chris and Irene Okuna that I may open my hands and my heart. Africa is not so concerned with the task list or the time. May our team release these as well and receive what ever it is that the Holy Spirit has for us. For me, I pray that Christ may meet me in my fear of not living up something and of relating to new people and give me the freedom to be fully present with our hosts. May the gospel rest visibly and lightly in me.
Chris and Irene are missionaries commissioned by MVC for two areas of Ministry there Nairobi. First Love Kenya is an orphanage and they also run a Community School that provides education and 2 daily meals to children in the slum of Kibera.
Pray for my family. While my children would never admit it in public they will miss me at home and may be fearful about my safety. The weekends will feel strange for them while I am away.
post written by Jon Tacoma
Chris and Irene are missionaries commissioned by MVC for two areas of Ministry there Nairobi. First Love Kenya is an orphanage and they also run a Community School that provides education and 2 daily meals to children in the slum of Kibera.
Pray for my family. While my children would never admit it in public they will miss me at home and may be fearful about my safety. The weekends will feel strange for them while I am away.
post written by Jon Tacoma
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Kenya / Sundan Team Departure Day
On this day we will set out from SFO at around 8 in the morning and after a short stop in St. Paul MN, we will be landing in Amsterdam for about a four hour layover before finishing the trip to Africa with an 8:30 pm arrival on the 26th. There is a great scene in the Lord of the Rings where Frodo and Sam are walking away from Hobbiton and they come to a place in Maggoty’s field where Sam stops and says “If I takes one more step, it will be the farthest from home I have ever been.” This is certainly true for me.
I would ask God that as we set out that I might be filled with the freshness and wonder of new places. May I start to receive the gift of new eyes with which to look back and see the places I am comfortable in. May I see the beauty of otherness and under it see commonality of humanity. May God’s love for the whole of the world fill me and an appropriate sense of the smallness of my world view take hold of me.
- post submitted by Jon Tacoma
I would ask God that as we set out that I might be filled with the freshness and wonder of new places. May I start to receive the gift of new eyes with which to look back and see the places I am comfortable in. May I see the beauty of otherness and under it see commonality of humanity. May God’s love for the whole of the world fill me and an appropriate sense of the smallness of my world view take hold of me.
- post submitted by Jon Tacoma
Thursday, February 18, 2010
MEET THE SUDAN / KENYA TEAM
SUDAN/KENYA TEAMJON TACOMA • ROSS BOREN • CAL MAST
This team is preparing to leave for Kenya and Sudan on February 25th. They have two key objectives in East Africa.
• They are seeking to deepen our connection with our partners at work in Nairobi, Kenya. Mavuno Downtown Church, the Kibera Slum and the Community School being run there, as well as First Love Kenya are all places where they will engage in the ministry of presence.
• They will also spend time among the Sudanese people in Labone. While there, they will seek to truly understand the pain and the needs of this shattered people group and bring the hope of a Community Health Evangelism (CHE) ministry. Their goal will be to help the people living there to take ownership of their own needs and community by offering training and coaching in disease prevention, micro enterprise, community development, self leadership, and Christian living.
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