Getting ready for Nyahururu

Here we are–the team going to Kenya from our church and one interloper.  We have Jillian and Joe, Mary and Sheryl and me.  The training has started, but more importantly the cohesiveness of and as a team has started.

I think, for the next couple of months, I’d like to share with you our training material and learnings. 

To begin with, we are embarking on a short term mission trip, and those words mean different things to different people.  So, I asked each of them (us) what our expectations were.  I was very pleased with the expectations of my team: from one ”I don’t like to set expectations ’cause that leads to dissappointment.  I’m open to what happens and what ever we do.”  from another, “To learn more about myself-to be changed by the experience.” and, yes, “to experience a different culture and society.”  But nobody suggested that we are going to “help” or to “solve problems” or any “miss america” answers.  All expressed expectations, with only one exception, were about learning, seeking God, openness and relationships.  (the one exception was, “To Climb Mount Logonot.”)

The one comment about not having expectations led to a tangent discussion about expectations and dissappointment etc.  A great tangent!  I challenged that we all have expectations, but expressing them, and letting them go is what was important.  

The scriptural portion of the session focused on Matthew 6:33 (you know, the “seek ye first…” verse.  look it up)  One of those verses we memorized as a young Christian–probably the 5th or 6th most memorized verse.  But one of those verses, I think, that is not wrestled with enough.  What does Seek the Kingdom mean?  For that matter, what is Kingdom?  So I asked our group to talk about that. 

Sure some of the answers were the pat answers.  But that doesn’t mean they aren’t true.  We are to live (ethics) here on earth.  We are to seek God’s will as we live day to day.  We are to anticipate, wait for, even try to bring God’s Kingdom to our “kingdom.”  All good answers, but, for me unsatisfying.  “But what does that really mean?  So What?  (Even with a degree in theology, I realize it’s not about theology.  It is about how we live, day to day, gig to gig, sales meeting to sales meeting, painting job to painting job…  It is all about daily life…but I digress)  I thought the answers were still too “out there.”  What about in here (I am now pointing to myself.) 

So I asked our pastor to visit and remind us what he teaches “kingdom” means.  He teaches that at least one definition in Scripture of Kingdom is ”authority to rule.”  it is not, necessarily, a geographical area, or even an political system, but just the authority.  I looked Kingdom up in my big theological dictionary (just to make sure–one cannot be too careful when pastors are involved)  and discovered he was right.  (I also discovered why I wouldn`t study `pure` theology again.  I slammed the book shut in confused disgust when it used the word `Circumlocution` for the second time on one page.  I looked that word up in the `Big Dictionary of Big Words`and discovered it means to over complicate the definition of a simple idea.  In otherwords using `circumlocution`as part of a definition.  But, why use a big word when a diminutive one will do.  But I digress, and this time, I mean it)

So, Kingdom means, in part at least, the authority to rule.  So in our lives, we must allow God to rule, day in and day out.  It shouldn`t be some difficult geo-political-sociological-eschatological discussion; it should be simply let God have the rule in our lives.

What this leads to, I think, is No Fear.  It`s God`s job to rule and control, so all we have to do is our part.  In terms of Kenya, August 2012, our part is to go.  is to deepen relationships with Kenyan Christians and to help if and where we can.  God will do the rest.

Until next time

Peace

David

I’ve changed my mind. Or, What’s important?

I’ve changed my mind — again.

Half way through the training for our church’s Kenya team this summer, I’ve read a couple of books that has caused me to ask what is important for the team to think about before going.  

Of course, we have to cover where we are going, when we are going, what we are going to do, and what we are going to wear.  Further to that, it’s important to look at some biblical models, types and teaching about missions.  I have found that course called Operation world view covers this as good as anything I’ve read por seen.  This material also covers world history from a point of view of God’s action in history. Interesting, perhaps, but I’m not going to use it

I’ve changed my mind — because of two books that tied Cultiral Intelligence (CQ – not to be confused with GQ) to missions. The first introduced me to CQ: Foreign to Familiar. It is simple, even simplistic. But introduced me to specifics of understanding different culture’s characteristics. Is the culture high or low context?  Is there distance or familiarity between leadership and “followers”?  Does the culture work on clock time or event time? During my time in Kenya I experienced cultural dissonance, but couldn’t articulate what I was experiencing, and Foreign to Familiar started to put words to it

The other book, Serving with eyes wide open, underlined the neccessity of these ideas to effective missions.  The writers carefully explore the potential pitfalls of cultural ingnorance or insensitivity.  It covers issues like the implications of culture on biblical interpretation, cultural cues for accurate communication.  It explains CQ in a far more detailed, academic and succinct way.

 

So, with apologies to the folks who put Operation World View together, but I’m not going to discuss the missional implications of the viking invasions of 1,000 years ago, but try to get my short-termers to think culturally.

peace

david

Meeting Sheila

We were told that the drive to Lancaster, PA was enjoyable. To get there from the border at Buffalo, you have to get off the Interstate freeway system and follow the secondary highway south. It wound its way between the Allegheny Mountains and river valleys. Sometimes clinging to the mountain-side like a rock-climber hanging on with nothing but finger-tips and crampons. Other times it became “main street” of picturesque towns, with general stores, pick-up trucks, road-side bars, wood sided homes with “Old Glory” hanging off the porch and Gramps Gas-’n-go on the outskirts.

Pastor Mugo told me his eldest daughter, Sheila, was studying at Lancaster Bible College. “I’d like to visit her,” I said and he gave me her contact information.

So Diane and I booked a hotel and made a long weekend out of it. We wanted to visit an Amish market, take a detour to Hershey’s chocolate factory, as well as take Sheila to dinner.

She agreed to meet us on campus at 5. I assumed that there would be a logical meeting place so didn’t arrange anything more specific. We arrived a few minutes early. “Where did you say we’d meet?” Diane asked me. “I said at the main entrance.” I knew this answer was less that satisfactory as the campus seemed to be de-centralized with a number of buildings covering the grounds. “Well you walk that way, I’ll go this,” Diane said. “And hope we find her.” We had circled the campus and approached a central grassy square from separate directions. I shrugged at Diane across the square, and she returned the gesture. Between us, however, was a couple of girls, and one looked our way—a spitting image of her mother Faith. “Sheila?” Diane said.

“Yes. Hello.” She approached us with grace and humility, reaching to shake our hands.

We settled into a booth at a hotel restaurant. The waitress handed us our menus and I asked: “what do you miss the most about Kenya?”

“The food,” she said. She took some time at deciding on a meal, finally deciding on a chicken salad.

We spoke with Sheila for an hour and a half. I was struck by her insight. She is studying counseling so she can go back to Kenya and help those people who have been traumatized by tribal clashes. Her parents were driven from their home, church and business in 2008, and she saw the damage that the violence did to her own family.

It is too easy to lay blame for tribal violence in East Africa on any one’s shoulders. A centuries-long simmer of tribal rivalries, turned into hot embers through colonization of the last century, and fanned into violent flames by self-seeking political ambitions all lead to the violence. Of course the damage is done to East Africa as a region, Kenya as a country, Eldoret and Muhoroni as cities, but Sheila wants to help the individual people caught in the violence. She wants to lead the generation that both heals the past hurts and prevents further tribal/political clashes. An ambitious young woman!

We drove home, past Gramp’s Gas-’n-go, around the mountainside and north to border, being encouraged and enriched from our meeting with Sheila.

Peace
David

mission

What is our mission? I have a friend whose prayer is for God to show her her mission.

I’m writing this as it comes out; no editing, no rewriting (unless it really stinks). Just a conflagration of thoughts based on a few things that have happened to me in the last 10 minutes. Here goes.

First of all, in preparation for my next Kenya trip, in which I will focus on the biography writing of my friends, I just finished watching the film “Shake Hands with the Devil.” I know, Rwanda is not Kenya, but, in my research, I’ve learned that tribal tension and hatred does exist in Kenya, and there have been violent clashes.

I received 2 emails while watching the movie. The first was a response to an application I submitted for a “mission” position at a church. The job description seemed to fit my gifts, experience and my interests. The second email was from a friend who raised $22,000 for International Justice Mission. Congratulations Marianne. (It is a further coincidence that the leader of IJM got his “inspiration” from the Rwandian genocide in 1994.)

So how does this speak to my mission? Well, I didn’t even get an interview with that church. I’m disappointed. But sensed that my mission is not there, anyway. I’ve been following IJM for a while and have “plotted” a novel that includes their activities in Kenya.

My mission, should I choose to accept it, is simply to help my friends in Kenya in their education and evangelistic ministry. See, in Koigi wa Wamwere’s book “Towards Genocide in Kenya: the Curse of Negative ethnicity”, he says the solution is, love, education, and community. That is exactly what my friends are doing.

My mission is to be captured by their stories; is to be a servant to tell their stories; is to help.

peace
David

Icons

Joe gave me a Rosary, and I really appreciated the gift. I can imagine it is odd for a protestant—baptist, no less—to want and appreciate the icon, so let me write a few thoughts about it.

First of all, I was grateful for Joe to get these. Joe is a member of our small group. Last year I mentioned that I would like a Rosary. I mentioned it in passing, and assumed that it was forgotten. But a couple of weeks ago he handed me the beads and an accompanying book. These belonged to his mother and, after she died, he wondered what to do with them. I am touched because they were important to his mother, and he, not only remembered my comment, but was willing to part with something that reminded him of his mother.

Reminded him… That, I believe is the point, isn’t it?

Let me go back. After hearing of my interest in Africa, a friend suggested I read Left to Tell by Immaculee. (www.Immaculee.com or www.Lefttotell.com) She was a university student in 1994 when the Rwandan genocide broke out. A local pastor hid her and six other women in a tiny en suite bathroom. She stayed there for 91 days—virtually the whole period of the violence. Her life was spared by the pastor’s kindness, but her faith was restored and, actually strengthened during the time. The only possession she carried was a set of Rosary beads her father had given her. Each day she held onto the string and meditated on the love of God through Jesus. (Today she is an activist and speaker calling for reconciliation and love.) Her “prayer beads” enabled her to, not only get through those three months, but gave her a deep faith.

(An interesting side note: During her recovery period, she had a bit of a crisis of faith when she lost the Rosary. Her counselor/priest reminded her that the beads only helped her focus on God, and He is to be the focus of her faith. She let go of the “thing” and remained faith-full.)

So, second of all, I find that I need a reminder to pray, and there is little (if anything) in Baptist tradition that can replace a rosary, so I wanted one.

It reminds me to pray. Reminders are so very important to us forgetful people. We have icons to help us remember—although us “good protestants” don’t use that word very often. The bread and wine of communion are icons to direct our memories to Jesus’ death.

I have a new wallet.

It is a nylon pouch the perfect size for all my cards—ID, debit and credit—with Safaricom printed across the velcro flap. I use it not to remember the Kenyan cell phone company, but to remember my friends in Kenya. Whenever I open it to get a card, I am reminded to pray for them.

So I look around at the “things” I have to remind me to pray. On my desk is a picture of Hannah and me holding a Barbie fishing rod and a lovely rainbow trout. It reminds me to pray for Hannah (and to renew my fishing license).

And I have a bobble-head Betty Boop doll in my van. I don’t have a crush on Betty Boop—really!—but it was given to me by Diane during a very short-lived Betty Boop phase.

My friend Phil went to Florida and returned with a Betty Boop tie and autographed picture. I don’t care about Betty Boop, but I do care about my friend Phil, and my wife. So when she bobbles her doe-eyed head at me, I am reminded of them.

Is it a mortal sin to hang rosary beads around a Betty Boop doll?

Peace,
David

happy new year

It is a cliché, I know, but my quiet thoughts this morning—January 1, 2012—have been about change. As I reflect on 2011, I don’t recall dramatic alterations in my life-style, career, family situation or physical condition. Oh, sure, we’ve moved from one tiny basement apartment to another slightly larger and brighter basement apartment. And, yes, Laurel got married. But she and Scott have had a stable relationship for years, so the wedding was an inevitable celebration. It’s a change, I guess, that we took our 1995 Merc “out behind the barn”. But when you look at all our circumstances, things are pretty much as they were a year ago; I’m still painting for a living, Diane is still administering at our church, our kids still (mostly) like us, and we still thoroughly enjoy the same friends as last year.

None-the-less, I’m reflecting about change. Maybe it’s not the change (or lack there-of) in me that has my attention, but wondering what change this year might hold. I want to change my money situation. This means a bit more discipline in my life-style. I want to give a bit more, save some more, be in a bit less debt, and, yes, earn more this year. I want to change the way I approach writing. Again, this means intentionally writing. (too obvious? Well, it’s the truth.) I’m not concerned that I have more blog entries, but I am concerned that I propose and write more articles, and that I begin to compose the stories of my Kenyan friends.

I do want to change myself. But my reflections went very quickly to what change I can affect this year? This is, of course, far more intimidating. There are two small groups I am leading. What kind of people will they be after hanging around me for a few months? I hope to lead another short term mission to Kenya this summer; how can I make this trip a moment of change for those who go, and those we visit? How can I impact my church so it is more effective in its mission? And what about my family? Matthew and I paint together, what lessons can or will he learn from me? What about that new marriage? Will Scott and Laurel learn from our mistakes (and successes)?

Hannah and I went skiing a couple of days ago. It was her second time on skis and she was scared. I had to walk the fine line between protecting her and letting her fall on her own. She did fall, and cried (just a little.) I asked her, “why are you crying? Are you hurt?” She shook her head, no. “Are you mad at Grandpa for not catching you?” She nodded. “I almost hit the tree!” “Yes,” I said to her, “You were heading for it, but going very slowly and I knew the soft snow would stop you. You have to learn that you can fall without getting hurt.”

I was afraid at that moment that she’d never ski again. We went up the chair lift and down another hill into the chalet to warm up. “Ready to go again,” I asked, fearing she’d not go. “Yes. Can we stay all day?”

What does that have to do with change? I had to be intentional about seizing a learning opportunity. Maybe that’s the single change I need to work on—recognizing learning and teaching opportunities.

I think I just wrote out a New Year’s resolution, and I don’t like New Year’s resolutions!

Peace and Happy New Year!

my boots and Jeremiah 29:11

I really like my boots. They remind me of things: of being a cool, hair-full teenager, of hitch-hiking to my grandmother’s place in Manitoba (when, of course, I was a cool, hair-…). Now they remind be of Jeremiah 29:11.

yeah, you’re right, I’d better explain.

In preparation of Kenya I smeared my boots with Dubbin. I was told that the rains had stopped, but I wasn’t going to take chances. A good thing too; the rains did, in fact stop—every day at about 5. My feet stayed dry in my boots. I was warned that the mud (during the rains) or dust (when it’s dry) stay on one’s boots. More so, I discovered, when one smears Dubbin on them before the trip!

There is still a red-Africa-mud tinge to the black leather. I’ve been home for a month and have yet to clean the redness off. They remind me; remind me of Kenya, of the short-term mission I led, of my team and, primarily, of Jeremiah 29:11. (Look it up.) I think God’s trying to tell me something.

Why do I like that verse? Of course I want to be “prospered.” Has a nice ring to it—in tough economic times, doesn’t it? I’m laid off my painting gig for a month or so, and “prosperity” appeals to me. And, further, I like the idea that I won’t be “harmed” and I certainly want “hope” and a “future.” I’m not alone in this, I bet.

I am taking my lay-off as opportunity to explore that “hope” and “future.” But before I leave the biblical discussion fully, this verse is the middle verse of three that I hold onto. The first is Psalm 37:4, and the last is Matthew 6:33. (look them up, too). I read the Psalm to say two things: first that God will grant what our “heart desires” when we fully enjoy Him. Second, I believe that he puts that desire in our hearts in the first place. And Jesus says much the same thing. Pursue his kingdom, first and foremost.

Now this means different things to different people, of course. But there’s been a desire growing in my “heart” since going to Kenya. The team I led in October has become a group of friends. I spent 30 hours training them and working with them to prepare for our trip. That time spent was the amongst best time for me. (Almost better than being there!) I loved teaching, training, discussing, arguing with, laughing at and with my team. I desire (to us psalmist language) to be involved in recruiting and training as many short-termers as I can. That is, I think, my “hope” and “future.” That is, I think, my seeking first …

So I don’t think I’m going to clean my boots. The red mud will wear away, eventually. But not until I’ve taken steps towards actually finding out how to be a trainer/teacher/facilitator/recruiter, and do it in a vocational way.

Pray for me as I pursue this, please.
Peace
David