The Midas Touch

 

We find the longer we are here, the more we see things we have ruined.  Of course, there are even more times Jesus has used us to mend people back together.  But the longer we are here, the more things we make a mess of.

I invited a young, bright, fresh, excited teenager to come and help with my literacy class.  I told him he could come and learn how to teach and one day God might call him to be a teacher himself.  The next week, his father came with all of his elder brothers asking for more information about when and how I was taking their son to America with me and paying for his college education...oops

I began praying months ago for a discipleship program to start in Maasailand.  We have begun meeting now in a team to pray together.  One pastor in kiserian has become a close friend.  We have talked often about discipleship for the Maasai and so recently I asked him to begin praying this through with us.  A week later, he called my boss and asked where he should write down the names of all of the people that have agreed to enter this school...uh oh

A Maasai woman, a close friend of Heidi's, was at a boma i was visiting.  She asked when mama Hannah was coming to visit.  I told her i would ask her that day when I returned when she might come.  The next morning the woman came to ask why I had lied to her.  She waited up until late into the night with already cooked tea for Heidi to come.  She never showed...fail!

The poor young girl, orphan, single mother of twins we wrote about in the post titled, The Victory, is supporting herself and her children.  We came a couple of times to visit the children and help with a little money for good milk and porridge every month and told her we could help with her education.  She went for a month to school, then her family told her that she was no longer theirs, but one of those white people.  If the white people want their children taken care of so Lightness can go to school, then the white people can pay for us to watch them.  If the white people want the babies to live in the uncle's house, then the white people can pay for the room, and the bed, and the cooking utensils...now what?

You know the Midas touch, even though it is gold, it is a curse.  What about when the things you touch ruin? What kind of a curse is it when whatever you touch is broken?  For me today, I call it a blessing.  For me, I call it revelation, enlightenment, an awakening.  If what I touch turns to gold, I am tempted to think my awesomeness is fixing Africa!  Pretty soon I start eating golden hotdogs and those neither go down nor come out easy.  The blessing for us today is to see and know that we are wandering in the dark making messes as we go, but His word, His fresh, new, living and personal Words "are a lamp to our feet and a light to our path."  When my eyes are open, I can see all the good that we are God is doing here in Tanzania AND all the things that we are ruining God is still working to restore.  I have told myself and testified to others many times about the good work WE have done for those twins and their mother.  WE have changed their lives and then WE close that book and look for something else to open up. But surely, the work JESUS is doing is certainly not finished in that family He has created.    He has restored and He will continue restoring.  How dare I give in to the pride of applying to the work of God in the hearts of men and women my need for finality so I can have feelings of productivity. 

As I read this week in Isaiah, I see myself in the lives of the Israelites.  Jesus says, through the voice of Jehovah, passing through the mind, arms, hand, down to the pen and out in the ink and soaked into the parchment paper,

 

 "Why should you be beaten anymore? Why do you persist in rebellion? Your whole head is injured, your whole heart afflicted.  From the sole of your foot to the top of your head there is no soundness — only wounds and welts and open sores, not cleansed or bandaged or soothed with olive oil."

 

In the darkness, I knock everything over, I bump my knees, I run into the wall and I get all bloodied up.  Jesus asks, "why do you keep beating yourself in the dark? Turn on the stinking light!"

Stuff gets ruined! Toes get stubbed!  Why on earth would I leave my sores uncovered and continue blundering in the dark? Cover yourself with oil, cleanse your welts and wounds, and turn the lights on so you can see! 

This week, I am reminded that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me, but I can do nothing except for the grace of the Lord.   The awesome stuff I see God doing in my life I give him praise.  The awful things that happen in this fallen earth, and the blunders I see myself creating, I give Him worship because He is not finished.  And as far as today is concerned, it is enough for me.

Peace that passes all understanding: My electrocution story:)

These past 36 hours have been one of the scariest/peaceful/frustrating/helpless times I have experienced. 

As most of you reading this know on Tuesday morning around 4 a.m. the girls woke up for some strange reason. Nick got up with them and then I heard more crying so I got up to see what was happening.  When I got up Nick asked me if I could unplug the refrigerator because it was making a funny noise.  I was exhausted and without really thinking reached and started pulling out the plug and the electricity caught me.  I couldn’t let go and for about 5 seconds held onto the plug and finally I was released. I remember thinking very clearly, “don’t fall, sit down slowly” but I was shaking so badly.  I ended up on my knees unable to speak.  Nick ran in with Hannah to see what was wrong and saw me on my knees.  He kept asking me what was going on and I couldn’t get anything out.  My words were right there but unable to come out coherently.  I was so confused with what was happening.  I finally was able to get something out about electricity and Nicks face went white.  Hannah ran into our room and I wanted to say I was okay but nothing else would come out except mumbling.  I knew nick was afraid it wasn’t just my speech but my whole mental state so he started giving me tests. I could remember everything but my speech was another thing.  I remember Hannah running back into the kitchen and so calmly saying “mom I just went and prayed for you and you will be okay”.  That settled me down enough to motion to Nick that I wanted to go to bed.   I felt I would be fine in the morning.   When I got up the next morning I tried to say something and only gibberish came out.  I remember not feeling fearful but just feeling so frustrated with what was going on.  Around 8 nick found a doctor on the base from America and had him come in and check me.   All my vitals were fine I just couldn’t talk.   The doctors wife went from home to home and to all the classrooms telling everyone what happened and asking for prayer.   From about 8:15 on we had people coming to our door praying for me. I was overwhelmed with the response of our YWAM community as well as others around Arusha calling and reaching out to us.   We honestly did not have more than 30 minutes where someone did not come by to see what they could do or to pray for me.  It was a little awkward when they would come and not really understand I couldn’t talk and keep asking me questions or if they thought I couldn’t understand them so they would talk to me very slowlyJ Two friends came over and cleaned our house and took care of the girls so they could get out and not be in the middle of the situation. 

Nick posted on facebook and the amount of support we received through emails, messages, and posts on our wall was unbelievable.  It made me break down in tears knowing everyone was praying for our family and for complete healing.  I don’t know why but in the midst of all of this it didn’t really occur to me to be afraid.  I took the time to rest and heal because I knew my brain needed it.  I continued to look online at peoples comments and continued to feel assured in the peace and joy I was feeling even in the midst of the pain in my head and arm and the frustration of not being able to speak.  A couple times I started talking like normal but after about a minute it went away.  I laid in bed and just thanked Jesus over and over that nothing more happened. I had no burn mark, my arm hurt but I knew nothing internally was wrong and I knew for sure I would get my speech back.   On Wednesday morning I woke up and said something to Hannah.  She freaked out and got soo excited but a minute later she brought someone into the room and I couldn’t speak again. The disappointment in her face broke my heart but then she said, “oh it’s fine mom, you will talk very very soon” and left.  I rested the rest of the day and when I woke up again I was able to speak.  Hannah made me write down on a little piece of paper “I can talk now” and she started walking out of the room with the piece of paper and ran back and said “mom you need to write on here, “from now on” so it doesn’t go away again”.  I did as she said and she ran out of our house and shouted to everyone that I was better and I could speak again! She kept saying “jesus healed my mommy like He said he would!!”.   All night she continued to look at me and say, “talk mom” and I would say something and she would smile and say “God is soo good to us huh”.  I was blown away by her attitude towards all of this.  That night despite my headache I went to the dinner at the base.  I came in and the response of the people towards me made me so overwhelmed with emotion that I had to go outside the dining hall and have a good cry (the first since this had happened).  I felt so loved.  Living here has been hard because we had to leave family and friends when we moved here.  I have felt loved and appreciated here but something changed that night.  I felt that I was truly part of a loving family and I couldn’t be more thankful to be a part of it.  I got home and continued to receive responses from some of you over the internet and rejoicing together with us in my complete healing!  I cannot begin to thank you for all of your encouragement  and your love through this.  For those of you who know me well I am someone that freaks out in circumstances like this but I felt that peace that passes all understanding.  I could continue to rejoice in the fact that God is good, even when I couldn’t say it out loud.  I didn’t understand the depths of what could have happen until the situation was over.  I will say I still need to get past the fear of the electric outlets in our house and walking into our kitchen but that fear will pass.   My head is slowly feeling better as well as my arm and I know very soon I will forget about what happened  and how I felt not being able to speak but I hope I never forget the feeling I know that was only from the Lord. The feeling of peace and the knowledge that I can’t change the situation but I can choose the way I react to it.  I can choose to give it to Jesus and trust in His goodness and relax as I watch the Lord move through a situation.  God is good and I am so thankful I can continue to proclaim that and I won’t stay silent!

 

Lendim Lai

It happened!! I have been spending every day possible in Maasailand lately and really getting to know some of the people out there.  I've felt like we are really becoming friends, but I have always wondered what their perspective of me is.  Do they see me as a friend?  As a teacher?  As a missionary?  As a white guy with money?  I know how I see them, but how do they see me? 
There is one young man that works with us in YWAM ministering to the Maasai.  He himself is not a Maasai, but has a deep passion for them.  He comes from a different tribe, but left his home to come to Engikaret and has been here for almost 5 years now.  He has become almost fluent in Maasai and you can always find him out at the Bomas.  I have begun a new Literacy class about an hour drive past Engikaret and this young man, Elia has been coming with me.  Whenever we go we have about an hour to talk and encourage each other, but I have always seen a huge difference between the two of us.  Wherever we go, every Maasai recognizes him!  They can see the heart he has for them and I have always seen him as a really important example for me.  I want to be a missionary like him.  There is this one thing, though, that I continue to see and hear that I have coveted.  When his dear friends see him, they have a specific way they call him.  They say, Elia Lai.  In Maasai, the way you claim something as your own, you put this word Lai after it.  If you are describing your mom, you say, "Mama Lai", my mama, "Alayuni Lai" my son, "Lalashe Lai" my brother.  I always hear them call to Elia, and they say, "Elia Lai, Elia Lai" My Elia, My Elia!  Oh, every time I hear it, I ask the Lord, when will be the day that I am theirs?  Will they every see me as more than just a missionary passing through, or a westerner with money? 
This week, as we completed our third week of class out in Kaserian, it happened!  It wasn't anything spectacular, it wasn't a profound moment, it was just an everyday, run of the milll, request for a ride, but it happened!! One of my students, as I was getting in the car to go home, called out, "Lendim Lai!"  Lendim is the Maasai word for forest.  I have become known out in Maasailand as Lendim and the moment I heard it, my heart was filled with a feeling of victory, of acceptance, of God's faithfulness.  My Lendim!  Maybe to anyone else this would be no big deal at all, but to me it meant the world.

The Song of Songs says, "I am my beloved's and he is mine".  It is really easy to read that and understand it to be some kind of simply possesive term, but it is so much better than owning or some kind of controlling authority.  It is belonging.  I belong to him.  Just like that old hymn says, "Now I belong to Jesus, Jesus belongs to me.  Not for the years of time alone, but for eternity!"  I belong to Jesus and He belongs to me.  I find my home with him.  I find my worth in him.  I find my place, my portion, my reason for being.  I belong.  I am His Nick and He is my Jesus.  In the same vein, the Maasai belong to me and I belong to them.  I am their friend and they are my friends.  I am their Lendim and I am so very greatful!

Hope in one hand

               Every once in a while when I was growing up, things wouldn’t go my way and I would start to whine.  I would say, “I wish I didn’t have to clean my room” or “I wish I didn’t have to pay for my own gas in my car.”  My older brother loved these occurrences because he would have an opportunity to one of his favorite colloquialisms.  I would I wish and wish and wish and he would turn to me and say, “Wish in one hand and poop in the other.  See which one fills up quicker.” 

               Why, you may ask, would I relay this ridiculous sampling of an American Proverb?  Because I was teaching my literacy class last week and just frustrated.  I was frustrated with the students, frustrated with the Engikaret base for not having a place for us to regularly meet in class, always shifting around, which leads the students not to take things seriously and therefore not showing up to class at all, let alone on time.  I was frustrated with myself, feeling like there was more I should be doing to entice and entertain my students so they would be more willing and invested in coming to class.  I started making those I wish statements again.  “I wish…I wish…I just wish…” when I saw a little bald, dusty Maasai girl’s head pop to the class for a peak.  There were only three students that showed up that day and they were busy with their work so I went out to see where she came from and what she wanted.  I found her out the door with one of her friends and both of them were so proud of themselves.  So I asked, “what are you two doing here this morning?”  Out of a little old pouch around their necks, they both pulled out their own beat up, batteryless, cracked and worn cell phones someone must have thrown out.  They held on to them like they were state of the art cell phones.  I asked one of I could see it to look at it.  And she ran off.  I didn’t think much about it until I was back in class and that little bald head popped back in to sneak a peak.  Again, my students were hard at work, so I went out to see what she wanted and this time she had what I thought was the cell phone concealed in both hands so I could look at it.  She placed it in my hand, removed her hands from the top of it, and then took off running as fast as her little legs could carry her.  When I looked down to see the present she brought me, right away I remembered my older brother.  She placed in my hand a huge cow tird!  She thought she was so funny!  Both of the girls rolled around laughing and laughing and I was left with my wishes in one hand and poop in the other.  And I assure you, the wishing hand was not nearly as full as its neighbor. 

               I have been thinking about this for a several days now and thinking about a whole slew of verses that are laced through the Bible about being dissatisfied and not one of them is about wishing. 

“Let us hold unswervingly to the HOPE that we profess, for he who promised is faithful…the widow who is really in need and left alone puts her hope in God and continues night and day to pray and to ask God for help…That is why we labor and strive, because we have put our hope in the living God, who is the Savior of all people…For what is our hope? Our Joy? Or the crown in which we will glory in the presence of our Lord Jesus when he comes?  Is it not YOU?...Therefore since we have such a hope, we are very bold…

And we boast in the hope of the glory of God.  Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produes perseverance, perseverance produces proven character, proven character produces hope.  And hope does not disappoint.” 

               Wishing is a silly, whiny kind of thing to do, but hoping is entirely different.  I wish for the things that I don’t have but that I think that I should.  I hope for the things that I know I will have because, in finishing that verse, “God’s love has been poured out into our hearts through the Holy Spirit, who has been given to us.”  Wishing in one hand will never fill up as fast as pooping.   But with hope in my hands, hope in the Living God who is savior of all people, well that will never disappoint. 

               This month I have had over 11 students coming to class, mostly men.  Some of them even show up on time!!!  We began a new literacy class in a village an hour and a half northwest of Engikaret called Kaseriani where I now have 22 students!!! In both classes there are old men and young warriors, old grandmas and young mothers, and all are learning to read and write for the first time. 

               Hope in one hand and poop in the other.  See which one fills up faster…

The War is Over

We just wanted to send out a little update to say thank you for your prayers.  The war in Engikaret is over.  The chiefs were able to talk it out and they have turned on the water to Engikaret.  We are so thankful for this.  Nick is heading out today to do his literacy class and will see how everything is while he is out there.  Thank you again for your prayers.  This is the best possible outcome!

War

A couple of months ago, before the rains came there was scarse amounts of water and plants for the livestock in Engikaret to eat and people to drink. A neigboring village between Engikaret and Arusha called Oldonyosambu (the brown hill) began sending their cattle to Engikaret because their situation was even worse. This pushed the men of Engikaret to delve into the next village further, Keseriani (the place of peace). There was no peace there. The Massai in Keseriani chased the Engikaret men back to their village. This was not a very charged conflict because they were all Maasai. However, the neighboring village, Oldonyosambu is a sister tribe called Arushans. When the men from Engikaret returned, they proceeded to chase the Arushans off their land back into Oldonyosambu and the Arushans took that personally. Since then, the rains have come and the plants have returned and things were relatively peacefull, but the Arushans did not forget the behavior of the Maasai in Keseriani and Engikaret. This last month, the Arushans have regularly cut or turned off the waterpipe that supplies water to Engikaret as it travels through Oldonyosambu. The Maasai have gone to Oldonyosambu multiple times to try to resolve the conflict (albeit forcefully) but things have only escalated. This week as I returned home from teaching in Engikaret I came across over 300 Maasai warriors from Engikaret, Keseriani, Longido, and Ndaiboro gathered to march on Oldonyosambu for war. They reached the water tank built by Faces For Hope, http://www.facesforhope.com/, to discuss strategy. The elders are attempting to calm down the young warriors but to this point have been unsuccessful. The governor of the Longido area was present as well as the police, but none have been able to convince the Moron warriors to stand down. In response, several Arushan clans have gathered and reached the Engikaret border. Please pray for Engikaret. Please pray for the peace of God to come. Please pray that the young angry men will hear the wisdom of the elders and pray that the Arushans can come to a place of compromise. As of now, nearly 50 military men have been dispached to Engikaret and things continue to appear explosive. Pray for Heidi and I and our girls. We are looking for wisdom about how to continue our ministry and lessons in this time of violence. 

Swallowed Up By Life

“We groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, so that what is mortal may be swallowed up by life.”

Every Thursday is a fellowship meeting where 25 to 40 Maasai come to worship.  Most Thursdays things are very average and normal.  They sing some Maasai songs (which the girls are getting very good at) someone shares a word from the Bible mostly centered around being good and doing what’s right, being pleasing to God by not doing what is wrong, then they pray for people that have needs (mostly sicknesses).  After a few months of this fellowship, sometimes it can be a little boring.  There! I said it!  Church in Africa is often really, really boring!  I remember talking with my wife’s great, great aunt from Scotland about church in America one day and she was being so critical of worship these days.  She called it “7Eleven” worship songs because you sing the same seven words eleven times.  I thought, “where is her passion?  Does she know nothing of meditation and waiting on the Lord?”  Well, today, Jesus is kicking my butt and reminding me about that conversation and my feelings for her every time we enter into a worship service because it is like “5twentyeight” worship here and I get so bored!  So I was watching last Thursday as the minutes on the clock were passing by slowly, seeing a handful of old ladies, a dozen young mothers, and one or two sidelined men or boys singing worship songs asking the God of Moses to take the hill (what meaning that has for a Maasai I have no idea) and I felt like my eyes opened.  I started thinking of the anthropology classes I’d taken in college.  I started thinking about every conversation I’ve had with every anti-evangelism philanthropist or American co- worker that accuses religious institutions of just bringing newly packaged religion to a different culture and in the process destroying the beauty of diversity and I started asking myself what real change was happening here?  Really, poor Maasai come to a well supported western style mission base to sing songs and they get stuff in return.  That sounds exactly like what critics describe us to be.  All of a sudden I became very frustrated and discouraged when all of a sudden the songs ended and the worship director lead us to change course a bit. 

He led us all to share some of the struggles anyone was passing through and then, to just lay them down and enter into the presence of the Lord.  This time, when I looked around the room, my eyes opened in a different way than before.  I saw a 60 year old 6 foot tall woman with a huge gap between her teeth and barely any meat on her bones close her eyes begin to experience something that until that moment I had been missing that day.  What I saw in her face was something that can’t really be argued by Evangelical culture killers and Anthropological Jesus haters because it has nothing to do with any of them.  No matter how many conversations I have about the proper approaches to missions or the abuses of churches to manipulate people, this woman was in the middle of an experience that no one else can really convince her of one way or another.  The peace that surpasses understanding, the grace that is sufficient for her, the love that is everlasting, the mercies that are new every morning really have nothing to do with me or anybody else.  Koko Elizabeth spends time with Jesus and that isn’t predicated on my ability to enjoy a worship service or not and it isn’t contingent on whether anthropological data shows our work is viable or not.  Then I looked around the room and saw more people experiencing something that can’t be quantified or measured, but can only be taken by faith.  I saw a young mother of 3 younger than my youngest sister with swelling above her right eye probably from an angry young man with her eyes closed and her mouth parted speaking to someone that I could not see.  I saw an old man all alone, without other young warriors to respect and honor him, but yet he comes and watches as people speak words of adoration to a God that will never leave nor forsake no matter who we are or what we have done.  I saw a little girl that would one day most likely be sold by her father  to a man, young or old, purchased for a price and then used the rest of her life…but before any of that happens she gets to hear about a man, A MAN! who traveled across the universe to tell her that he loves her more than anything in the universe and would lay down his life for her.  Then, this word of 2 Corithians comes to life.  For while we are in this tent, we groan and are burdened, because we do not wish to be unclothed but to be clothed instead with our heavenly dwelling, SO THAT WHAT IS MORTAL MAY BE SWALLOWED UP BY LIFE!

That is definitely worth an hour or two of my time.  I don’t know if anyone else gets bored at church sometimes, but next time you do, I give you this challenge.  Open your eyes and look around.  Look to see if what you are feeling is the same thing everyone else is experiencing.  Maybe you will find that God is doing some things that you didn’t see before and I assure you, when God moves nothing is boring.