Only in Africa

Only in Africa could we ride in a helicopter on Thursday, and then have no electricity and sporadic internet for a week before we could actually tell anyone about it.

Hmmm, what to write about today ...

Not sure what to write about just now … I could write more about the 200 children that swarm the yard every week to sing songs, learn stories of our Father, and chow on peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Seeing the older carry the younger ones around on their backs makes my complaints of “growing up too fast” pretty lame in comparison (sorry Mom).

Or I could write about Jackson’s helicopter flight - a specific answer to a request he placed before the Father – that he would be able to fly someday. Even just once. In a plane, a helicopter; heck, I think he would’ve settled for a lounge chair with helium balloons tied on. But last Thursday he strapped into the Marine Reach helicopter as it introduced itself to Kigoma/Kaseke, and he told his four year old son that if God could give him the chance to fly, he might be able to have a car someday, too. Jackson is one of the main translators we’ve been able to work with, and we have been so blessed by his sincere heart for our Father. A few days ago we were able to meet his family – he has two boys, and his wife has a smile that gives meaning to the whole “light up a room” phrase (by the way, Jackson and his wife are VERY ill right now – he has a blood infection and she has malaria. Please lift them before the Father.). It was so much fun to see his nervous grin at take-off turn into an ear-to-ear smile by the time they landed. We, too, got to take a ride over the property to get some great aerial shots for planning, to understand the proximity of the neighboring villages to serve, etc. Bob, our British pilot, gave us quite a thrill by taking the doors off before we went up. I’m not gonna lie, a helicopter ride has been on my “hope to do someday” list for a long time, and I doubt there could be a better first ride than cruising over the longest lake in Africa with the wind in your face, getting up to almost three times higher than normal for the whole picture, looking down at a plot of land that has so much potential and three hundred giggling children waving up at you. It felt a lot like walking the property for Eagle Ridge – except when we would bank sharply and I remembered I was 5500 feet above the ground with only a seatbelt to rely on J.

I could tell you more about those swarms of children that flooded the area when their curiosity was peaked by the “big bird”. The land we were visiting was recently donated for their benefit … 100 acres that will hopefully be home to a secondary school, bible college, youth camp, medical/helicopter base, etc. Two amazing things you must know about these children: one, how quickly they appeared from what would seem to be a long distance. Two, how much they laughed and played as the helicopter flew above them, occasionally giving them the impression it was heading directly towards them J. Okay, there’s another thing you need to know: The villages they live in right now have only a primary school (equivalent to our elementary), a government dispensary that has to recycle it’s “sterile” gauze, and not even a dream of other means we hope to use to introduce them to the Lord.

I could write about the local pastor who’s currently in jail for “wounding religious feelings”. Seriously. There’s a law against that. He happened to “wound” the religious feelings of local Muslims who happened to bribe the local police to arrest him for teaching things about Mohammed they didn’t appreciate (i.e., factual history). His hearing is currently scheduled for the first week of February. We had the chance to sit down with a man who works closely with him and hear the full details – this is by no means an isolated instance. The tension in this country is not so far below the surface.

Or I could write more about the life of our dear friends who are willing to put up with us in their home for three more weeks. They’re human, and they let us see that, which in itself is still refreshing. They have had a lot of important decisions to make this month, especially as the Father opens new doors and closes others. One of their right-hands, Gabriel, just left for the States to attend Calvary Chapel Bible College in Murrieta. It was so exciting to see him off and know what a huge experience awaits him. They will miss him this year while he’s away, but are excited that he’ll finally see the important things America has to offer – like Wal-Mart and fast food, the building blocks to any happy life.

I could probably keep going, but now I’m fairly tired from thinking about all the things I could’ve written about …

Roadblocks

We’ve tried to make three different trips to three different villages and have run into a variety of “roadblocks” (sickness, ferries “not working” due to corruption - i.e., only working for a certain price, a disease within the country Harold feels strongly about not contributing to, etc.). All we can do is shrug and remember “man plans his ways, but the Lord directs his steps”.

And the one trip that was roadblock-free? The safari (literally “trip” in Swahili) to Katavi. I’m prone to rank things I think are ‘just for pleasure’ at the bottom of the priority list, so in my economy I would’ve thought that if we were only going to actually succeed in one of the four planned safaris, it “should” be the one we wouldn't be able to take. But no, that’s not what the Father keeps teaching me … His economy seems to prioritize not just what I think I can DO for Him, but also what I can simply ENJOY.

Grace, Grace to all who love the Lord …

until you sin and then you have to be saved again. Or so was thought by ten precious hearts until just recently. A year and a half of Harold & Coni sowing Truth is starting to suggest a fruitful harvest.

We just finished a 4 day retreat with the Kids’ Club leaders: six guys and four girls 18-28 years old. They lead a “kids club” once a week – like a day camp every Tuesday afternoon, originally focused on the street kids who have very little to be doing with their time. About 180 kids come to the house every week to hear stories from the Word, sing songs, learn in small groups, and leave with homework to work on and bring back the next week. At the end of the year, they have a test and everyone who passes the test gets to go to camp – a new and enthusiastically received experience for Tanzanian youth.

We ran the retreat in the same building that will be used for the Hope of the Nations Bible College. We had an amazing time. For Brooke and I it was a return to the dorm life. Late night conversations, honest questions, hours of quiet time, reading, and journaling - these leaders want to know, want to grow, and feel a weighty responsibility to teach accurately.

The curriculum was prepared based on what the leaders had told us they wanted to teach at Kids’ Club over the next few months. But within the first seminar and throughout all devotional times, their questions focused very specifically on God’s Grace. True Grace is simply not taught here because the churches are afraid that their people will simply take grace and run, continuing to live their lives doing whatever they want. So salvation is what is always taught because if you sin, you are no longer saved until you again ask for forgiveness. Salvation they have, but they have been stranded like a 2 year incapable of an honest, mature relationship with their Creator - thus their spiritual depth runs no deeper than the top soil. It struck me in these conversations that while we know this form of “Grace” to be untrue, and we spent these four days taking them through the Scriptures (Ephesians 2, Romans 5 and 6, Hebrews 10, etc.), we still often live our lives this way. I still feel pressure to earn the love and gift of God, though He has already given it to me. I still think I have to make myself worthy, though I will never be worthy of the gift He has given me. Instead of allowing myself the freedom of digging into a relationship with Him, I keep myself at a distance because I don’t feel worthy to have that which He has already given to me. How sad for God, how sad for Kigoma, how sad for me. It was a poignant reminder of the need for the Bible College that we are working on beginning here. Hopefully 15-20 pastors will be here in March beginning English classes (they need to have a decent understanding of English to make themselves available to the many resources that exist - resources in Swahili are basically non-existent) and preparing their personal hearts for a program of in-depth Biblical training. They need to understand all the Word teaches about who God is, and in light of this, who we are, so they can in turn teach their congregations from a strong foundation. They treat the Bible the way Israel treated the Law, as scriptures focused on our life and behavior rather than scriptures that reveal a beautiful Creator. Please keep Africa before the Father; He has many very young children here who don’t know that He loves them enough not just to save them, but to have them grow into His mature sons and daughters.

He SPOKE and …

… then there were tall creatures moving with an awkwardly gangly grace (giraffes), curious stripe-clad joggers (zebras), and deceptively cantankerous waders who wiggle their ears (hippos). How Great and Majestic must this Person be for His WORDS to have this effect.

This week we took a break from ‘normality’ and went to Katavi National Park – an animal reserve about 11 hours away. We passed through some amazing countryside, dotted only occasionally with a village, fields or baboons. This is the rainy season, so the dirt/mud/muck roads-turned-riverbeds wrought a bit of havoc on our bodies, but thanks to the power of the land cruiser and the skill of Harold’s driving, sore muscles were all we suffered.

Feeling once again like we must be experiencing someone else’s life, we cruised through Katavi sitting atop the jeep – a whole day looking out over amazing creatures with nothing between us and them except open air. The terrain alone would have been stunning … exactly how you imagine African plains, except a vibrant GREEN due to the rains. The clouds were large and heavy all day, but the rain held back until the late afternoon. At the edge of the plains we entered a valley literally teeming with wildlife – it’s likely that I’ve never used the word “teeming” so accurately before. And there was no “giraffe section” or “zebra section” and so on – no, they were all out there together, checking us out, running away (or charging – only one water buffalo had that look in his eye – oh, and one hippo!), and giving us quite a show as we drove by with wide eyes and huge smiles.

The creature we were told to least expect were lions. They are already the most difficult and unlikely animal to see, but especially at this season with the high grasses - even the park guides warned us not to get our hopes up because you could walk/drive within 5 feet of one and never know it. But sure enough, we spotted a few lionesses out near a watering hole towards the end of the day. As we stopped and all gathered atop the jeep to see them (about 20 yards away), we realized they had cubs … and immediately they got into protective formation. Quite fascinating to see “live” – each of the three females quickly took her place in a protective perimeter. Then to our surprise we noticed another young cub cross the road in front of us, and just a moment later heard a growl that undoubtedly contained a warning – and just as surely did not come from the lionesses we could see. It’s amazing that one sound could effectively make your heart race and stop at the same moment. We didn’t waste any time looking for the source of the warning within the 5-foot tall grasses ... Harold quickly got back in the driver’s seat and we were off. Once we were all safe behind the doors and windows, we went back for another, closer look at the lionesses and their cubs – after a few more threatening paces and snarls, they decided we were not a threat, so they relaxed and didn’t begrudge our snapping cameras and giddiness at having come across them.

What a gift it was to be able to see all this. Truly phenomenal. And all because He SPOKE.

Normality

I know we’re still in the middle of Africa, but still this is the closest to “normal” life we’ve had since we left the States. Mainly because it’s the longest we’ve stayed in one place since we started.

Yesterday I got to chat with JP, one of my awesome friends from home. Ahhh, refreshment to the soul. I realized how much we really are seeing and learning, even though we feel like we’ve slowed down into a “normal” setting. So I thought I’d sit down and write out all that life has entailed for us the last few weeks, if for nothing else than to remind myself. Each day has a different combination of brainstorming, preaching/teaching, planning, writing curriculum, laying figurative foundations, defining goals, walks through town, and engaging with the locals who stop by. But that’s just what the hands, feet and eyes are experiencing … the heart is taking in plenty of different stuff …

Let’s start by going back to Christmas – a holiday that’s not celebrated by giving gifts, so there’s no decorations down “main street” (the one paved street ), no flashy sales signs in the market stalls. But the churches were full Christmas morning, and if you listened carefully, you could hear songs coming from different parts of the valley.

The people in town – most greet us warmly with a friendly “Karibu” (welcome). The kids wave enthusiastically and giggle. Many practice their English “good mornings” with a smile. Most adults give away a sheepish grin when their surprise shows at us greeting them in Swahili (though it doesn’t take long for us to deplete our 4 word vocabulary). The begging is not nearly as frequent as you’d expect amidst the obvious poverty. The salespeople at the markets are happy to see you come, but are refreshingly laid back and not pushy to make a sale.

Faces of the Knepper home – it is expected that “Wizungu” (foreigners) would provide employment to nationals. At first, it felt odd to come into a home that was “staffed”, and Harold & Coni have shared about their own adjustment to it, but it’s been really wonderful to see how they have used each opportunity for relationships – in many ways they are like a mother/father to most of the staff, teaching them how to take care of money, how to be responsible, helping them go to school, teaching them more about the Father, and leading them to lead others.

Mama Jean (all mothers are called by the name of their first born, so for instance, Coni is “Mama Joshua”) is their incredible cook … she has won us over with the flavors she can bring out of even cabbage! She has six children, and she is the sole supporter. Her husband lives in the Congo, and comes home only every few years (not an uncommon thing here). She seems to understand a lot of English, but speaks very little, so the best we can do is exchange smiles each morning and a quick “Habari?” (how are you).

Moses guards and cares for the property during the day. He is about 21 years old and has a smile that belies the life he savors. When they moved here a year and a half ago, he was a depressed and confused young man (his father had just died, leaving him to care for the family), but he has come to know the Lord and is starting to understand –and teach - Amazing Grace. He is eager to learn just about everything … especially Bible and guitar. Last week Moses cut Jason’s hair in the salon he built last year – Jason was his first “Mizungu” to be served in the salon. And he did a great job! Oh yeah, and he’s got chicken (“kuku”) catching down to an art.

Kids’ Club Leaders. Every week about one to two hundred kids attend Kids’ Club here at the ministry house. There are ten leaders who shepherd them - all local students whom Harold & Coni have been discipling in their time here. They are a fun group (Moses is among them), and next week we’re all putting on a leadership retreat for them – last summer they experienced their first summer camp, and this will be their first retreat. We are excited to use some of the fun and purposeful tools of team building and teaching with them.

Jackson is the translator I had the opportunity to work with during our women’s seminar. He was a great sport in a room full of women with lessons directed towards women. In fact, several times throughout the two days he would pause and say “that’s a good point” before going on to translate that point . He has two young boys (2 years and 3 months), and his passion is social work among children.

Mwenge is “chief of staff’ for another ministry here in town, “Joy in the Harvest”. He is a crack-up! Always a huge smile, and always poking fun. He leads a youth group that we’ll be speaking with next Sunday, and we’ve already been forewarned of the glee he finds in playing devil’s advocate with the speakers :).

Spiritual climate – the name of J is well known here. The Truth of who He is and how to be secure in Him is not as well known. They do have the Word in Swahili, but many don’t read, so they rely on the pastors’ words. The thing is, the word “pastor” is loosely granted … in fact, I don’t think we’ve met a single young man in a church who didn’t introduce himself as “pastor”. There are some who are true leaders who love the Lord and take their task seriously, but the majority have little or no training, so of course in turn have a difficult time accurately presenting the Word. So there is a great hunger, among teachers and congregation alike, for depth and knowledge. Every time we have attended a fellowship, we have been treated as honored guests. I’d like to say it was because we were the only guests, but truth be told, we are “honored” because of our white skin. So that means sitting up front instead of among the people, which is honestly quite awkward. It also means you WILL be asked to speak, whether they expected you or not. At first this, too, was difficult to accept – but one of the local men gave me a really good perspective when he said “use the fact that they want to hear from you – they won’t ask me to speak if I walk in, so instead of fighting that they ask you, no matter whether their reason is good or not, use it”. I still think there’s a lot of unintended harm that westerners have done by doing things for people instead of teaching them to do it for themselves, but his perspective helped me better appreciate the actions of the local fellowship.

Monkeys – I can’t leave out the monkeys. Yesterday we spent the afternoon and evening at the beachfront (Lake Tanganyika, looking across to the Congo – fabulous sunset) and not only was the water amazingly refreshing in this world where sweating means you’re drinking enough water, but the monkeys came down to the water’s edge at dusk and entertained us with a playful wrestling match.

As I finish this out, the Kids’ Club is getting started outside. I wish you could hear the rythym of the clapping and the voices singing. Yes, I used the word normal when I started writing. And it is normal life – just on the other side of the world :).

More & More

The more I watch and learn, the more the power of indigenous-ness (copyright on that word pending) is impressed upon me. This leads to two still budding but important realizations for me …

Numero Uno. Non-westerners need to know they are called AND equipped to reach those that surround them … it is not the job of those with more money, or more training, or more anything. In fact, as I write this, I realize it is something westerners need to learn too. It would be silly to be sitting next to my friend Coni and tell someone that they should go inside to Harold so that he could introduce them to her because he knows more about her and has known her longer, when I am sitting right there and can introduce her myself. But that is what so many of us do when talking about introducing someone to our Savior … we feel like someone else is better trained, better equipped, to do that. True, there is always someone with more training, more equipping, and we should be striving to increase those resources of our brothers and sisters around the world, but we dare not forget that those chosen by our Lord were the common men and women, equipped simply with the knowledge of Him who saves and His Holy Spirit.

Numero Dos. To find ways to maximize my own indigenous-ness. I’m not gonna lie, I’ve always heard the “it’s just as important to reach out to your neighbor as it is to move to Africa” as a cozy pat on the back to everyone who doesn’t “want” to be on the foreign field. But I’m realizing that I can reach out to my neighbor in ways that someone from another country could not, and vice versa. A truth misused doesn’t make it untrue.

The Mamas

Several years ago I realized and admitted that I would love to be a woman who shared life with other women as a speaker ... of course, with that kind of admission came waves of fears – of looking (or worse, being) foolish; of having nothing worthwhile to say; of saying I wanted to do something but never having the chance (wait, I think that’s the foolishness fear again). So it’s entirely humorous to me that my first opportunity to speak at a women’s conference would be with a Swahili translator in the middle of Africa. In front of women who are not critiquing style, humor, how I look, or whether I have something interesting of my own to say … but women (“mamas”) simply hungry for the Word. Stories that have become Sunday-school recitations to so many of us were like fresh drops of water to them … Tamar, Rahab, Ruth & Bathsheba. Several times throughout the two-day seminar we would pause to ask questions about previous sessions for the benefit of those who came in late, or had to be in and out with crying babies. Their answers – especially the depth of detail they retained – astounded me.

While they hunger and thirst for more of the Word, there still reigns a tremendous fear of losing their salvation … likely that the one contributes to the other. The more fear, the more desperate for hearing God’s Word; the more the Truth is taught, the less legitimate grip fear has on them. When you listen to women talk about fear of going to hell because of one un-forgiven sin, it’s pretty silly to feel afraid of … well, just about anything else, really.