Safe and Secure

The name of the Lord is a strong tower; the righteous run to it and are safe.

Proverbs 18:10

 

 

Last week, Ken sent his driver to pay our power bill.  Timely bills are infrequent here, so it's wise to pay on the same day each month, even if you've not received a statement.  Otherwise, the power company will take great pleasure in disconnecting you without notice, at which point they'll also add a hefty reconnection charge.  Anyway, our driver wasn't able to pay the power company that day.  Their office had no power. 

 

Two days later, as we drove down the road, Ken and I came across an unusual sight.  An ambulance had broken down, and the driver was sitting comfortably under a tree next to it.  He didn't seem to have a care in the world.  I chuckled as we drove by, and then prayed that there wasn't a patient in the vehicle!

 

That same day, I noticed that there was no water in the washroom adjacent to my office.  Soon after I reported the problem, one of our young janitors arrived, entered the washroom, banged around a bit, removed a valve on the wall, put his hand over the hole, and soon had water gushing forth and hitting the opposite wall.  I don't know what he did, but it sure worked.

 

Yesterday I stayed home to get caught up on some chores.  Suddenly, there was a loud pounding on our front door.  When I answered, one of our groundsmen (who speaks very little English) was wildly flapping his arms and yelling, "Fire!  Fire!"  He turned and ran up the hill, where several boys were frantically dashing about with buckets and fire extinguishers.  I grabbed my phone and followed.  As I ran, I called Ken and told him to get here as quickly as possible. 

When I got to the top of the hill, I saw that all three of the electrical distribution boxes on our compound were in flames.  Our Territorial Youth Secretary, who worked as an electrician before becoming an officer, happened to be home, and I have to say that it was his quick thinking that saved our lives.  He knew that our new generator had just been fuelled, and so he and another young man ran across the compound to turn it off.  The young man he was with touched the metal door of the generator house and was thrown back to the ground.  But by using a wooden stick, they were able to get into the building and turn off the generator before it exploded.

 

 

 

Just then, Ken drove through the gate.  He had stopped along the way to fetch the fire brigade, which duly responded.  Unfortunately, though, the truck had broken down on the way to our compound.

 

Once we got the fires out, we surveyed the damage, and we thanked God that no one had been killed.  Ken led us all in a prayer of thanks, and then he took the young man who had been electrocuted to our local clinic.  Fortunately, his injuries were not serious, and he was treated and released a few hours later.  Thank Heaven. 

It's really all the same story, isn't it?  The power company, the ambulance, the fire brigade.  Even our electrical supply and plumbing.  It's all systems.  Systems that can so easily fail us, and that often do.

It's a good thing that, as Christians, our sense of security does not rely on systems.  It's not dependent upon technology, or people, or even luck.  It comes solely from faith.  I've learned this week that we are safe not because of the absence of danger, but because of the presence of God. 

 

 

 

It's Not Fair

It is he who saved us and chose us for his holy work, not because we deserved it,
 but because that was his plan long before the world began—to show his love and kindness to us through Christ.
2 Timothy 1:9

Ken walked in just as I was sweeping off the pile of bugs that had accumulated overnight on our dining room table.  He started to say something, but I gave him "the look."  You know, the one that only a wife can give.  The one that gently suggests it would be best not to say anything.  He caught himself, lowered his head with a smile, gave me a quick kiss, and headed off to work.  He knew that I was feeling a bit sorry for myself because of the long day of chores that lay ahead, and wise man that he is, he decided that a conversation would likely be counter-productive.

Driving to the market the next day, I saw some other women doing their chores.  Bending low from the hip, they were sweeping the mud outside their shops with tree branches, attempting to make their little businesses more inviting to customers.  My heart broke, and I chided myself for my self-pity.  I had nothing to complain about.

The following Sunday, while on our way to open the 400th corps in the Territory, Ken and I saw a young girl lying on the road ahead.  We told our driver to stop, and we jumped out to see what had happened.  I'm sure that we were quite a sight, running back down the road in our white uniforms.  A few people saw us, and a small crowd started to gather.  Ken cautiously touched the girl on the shoulder, and though she didn't seem to be hurt, she was clearly very weak.  Ken and a few men took her to the side of the road, where we discovered that she had no money and had not eaten for some time.  Ken quickly told the men to take her to a little café that was at the side of the road, and he gave her enough money to eat three full meals that day.

As we drove off a few minutes later, I looked back and was relieved to see the men, to whom Ken had also given some money for breakfast, patiently escorting her into the restaurant.  I whispered a silent prayer, and I thought again about how unfair life can be.  Why does it seem to be so easy for some and so hard for others?  It's a question that often haunts me here.

When we arrived at our destination, Ken and I were whisked away for a full day of celebration.  There was singing, dancing, lots of laughter, and of course, a generous morning tea and a feast for lunch.  But the best moment for me was when a retired officer stood and gave a brief speech.  He told us that their outpost had been founded in 1940, which meant that it had taken 73 years for the congregation to grow to the point at which it could be recognized as a corps.

Once again, I started to think, "How unfair!"  Yet no one else was complaining.  On the contrary, they could not have been happier, giving all the glory to God for His goodness and His grace.

The Lwenya Corps - Corps No. 400 in Kenya West

That's the key, I thought.  I had forgotten about God's grace.  How easy it is for me to fill my mind with thoughts of life's unfairness, when I should be putting all the things that I encounter and experience within the context of what the Saviour did for me.  After all, I deserved nothing, but God still loved me.  

So in a way, I'm glad that life is unfair.  Because if it were otherwise, I wouldn't be able to thank him for blessing me so richly every single day of my life.

My Tears

And now this word to all of you: You should be like one big happy family, full of sympathy toward each other, loving one another with tender hearts and humble minds.  1 Peter 3:8 TLB

Later this morning, we will be taking some good friends to the airport.  My heart swelled with emotion when they arrived last week, and I have little doubt that it will do so again when we say goodbye.  We've had a wonderful time together, our days filled with ministry, laughter, fellowship, and sharing.  It's been a real gift from God.

But it won't be the first time I've cried in the last few weeks.  I've heard stories of beautiful blind children who were abandoned in the bush and found by Salvationists.  An orphan came to my office just to thank The Salvation Army for his new shoes and school supplies.  Standing tall, he promised to make us proud.  I found it impossible to hold back tears when a mother begged us to take her gravely ill baby into our care.  And my heart broke when I learned of one young person who died due to the lack of basic medical care.  It would have been so easy to save him.

In fact, truth be told, I have a reason to weep almost every day.

Students at one of The Salvation Army's
schools for the deaf

Of course, my tears are often those of gratitude and joy.  I become emotional when I stand on the reviewing platform and watch thousands of Salvationists march into a morning meeting, their uniforms immaculate, their faces aglow, and their right arms raised in a smart salute.  I shed a tear when I see a man who struggles to feed his family proudly place a bag of maize on the altar as his Harvest Festival offering.  And knowing how threatened wildlife is in Kenya, I even become emotional when I see a giraffe walking majestically across the landscape.  All it takes is a simple story, a sight, a sound, a taste, or even a scent to trigger something deep within me, and I just have to respond. 

 

 

 

 Before I came to Kenya, I was often embarrassed by my tears.  But no more.  I have learned to understand them as proof that God is keeping my heart soft, receptive to His Spirit and to His people.  Victor Hugo put it into perspective when he wrote: 

 

Those who do not weep, do not see.

Victor Hugo, Les Misérables   

 

So I don't want a heart that is callous and unfeeling.  I want a tender heart.  I want a heart that sees, hears, and feels the pain of others.  Because it's only when my heart responds that God is able to use me.  It's only then that I begin to grasp how much there is yet for me to accomplish, and how loving and good He truly is.

 

Real Life Heroes

God has given each of you some special abilities;
be sure to use them to help each other,
passing on to others God’s many kinds of blessings.
 1 Peter 4:10 TLB





For several weeks now, news reports have been filled with stories of unrest and violence in Kenya.  Since the tragedy at Westgate, there have been riots, killings, and one Salvation Army corps was burned in Mombasa.  The majority of trouble has been in the eastern part of the country, but we are also seeing signs of fear in our own little community.  Today, for example, we were surprised to see extra security barriers outside our local market, and an officer advised me to go in and get out quickly to avoid the crowd. 

 

Our Army family is even taking precautions.  The police watch over our compound every night.   And last Sunday, the leaders of the Mbale Division hired armed guards for the Divisional gathering in which we participated.  There's very little chance of an attack in Kakamega, of course, but everyone does seem to be a bit on edge. 

 

In response to all this, I have decided not to read any more news reports.  Instead, I've decided to focus on the heroes.  Like the four-year old American girl who was saved by a Muslim during the Westgate massacre, and the British Royal Marine who saved over 100 lives by constantly running back inside the mall to bring out more frightened people.  I'm focusing on the heroes because I've always believed that, for every person willing to commit some evil act, there are millions of others who will perform an act of love. 

 

As I worshipped in Mbale this last Sunday, I saw heroes all around me.  The aged soldier who proudly marched with the Army flag for miles, anxious that he be at the meeting on time.  The officer who knelt and washed my shoes after I had walked through the mud, the house mother who spends her days caring for severely handicapped children, the cadets who live in the tool shed just so they can one day become ministers of the gospel.  They're all heroes.

Cooks preparing meals for over 300 students at our Mitoto School for the Blind

And I can't forget my personal heroes on the other side of the world, like those at the Clearwater, Florida Corps and in the Florida Division who made our new generator possible, the heroes in the four USA territories that have pledged funds for our new Training College, and all the donors and prayer warriors who give of themselves, their time and their resources just so we can keep advancing the gospel in Kenya.

It's quiet humbling, really, but I guess that's why we should call them heroes.  They don't have capes or leap over tall buildings in a single bound.  They don't stop bullets with their bare hands.  They don't have special powers.  They're just ordinary people who, despite the difficulties and challenges they face in their own lives, do what they can to make things a little better for someone else.

 

And the most amazing thing is, with faith in God, anyone can be a hero.  So Lord, I want to be one.

 

"We can be in our day what the heroes of faith were in their day

- but remember, at the time they didn't know they were heroes."

 A.W. Tozer

 



It Takes An Army

O exampled love!  O all-redeeming grace!

How swiftly did thou move to save a fallen race;

What shall I do to make it known

What thou for all mankind hast done?

Charles Wesley

Ken and I recently had the privilege of leading a divisional meeting at the Kakamega Township Primary School, one of more than 800 that the Army sponsors in this Territory.  Having arrived a bit early, Ken took the opportunity to take a quick look around the school compound, while I was invited to sit down for a moment in the shade.  As I sat there, I watched one soldier walk around the field on which the meeting would take place, clearing away cow dung. Two other soldiers brushed off the dais and the reviewing stand with tree branches.  School children raced to see who could bring out the most benches and chairs from the various classrooms, and a group of young adults set up the sound system, stringing long wires from tree to tree.  All kinds of people were running to and fro, and I couldn't help but smile as I imagined the women back at Divisional Headquarters who were probably running after the chicken that would become my Sunday meal.

To put on a big event, I thought, it takes an army.

While in Nairobi at COAL (Conference of African Leaders), Ken and I decided that we would spend our free day doing some shopping at our favorite mall.  The plan was for our driver to drop me off at Westgate, take Ken to do a few errands, and then bring my husband back in time for lunch and a movie.  Approximately five minutes before Noon, Ken arrived at the mall, came up the steps, and met me just inside the front entrance.  He asked if I was ready to go upstairs for lunch.  I hesitated a moment, weighing a meal at my favorite restaurant against a visit to another shopping mall across town.  When I decided on the latter, Ken quickly got on the phone to see if he could catch our driver before he left the area.  Miraculously, he was still in the parking lot, and he promptly drove back to the front steps to pick us up.

As we drove away, the shooting started.  We had just missed being part of the tragedy that has stunned the world.

That night, as my husband and I lay in bed, we thanked the Lord for his protection.  We prayed for the hostages, we asked why we were spared, and we asked Him to show us what we should do as His servants.  We may never receive answers to all of our questions, of course, but the whole experience reminded me of the fact that, as scripture says, we are engaged in a war.

This war is not about religion, race, or politics.  It is not a war against certain people or any particular nation, but rather a war for all people.  Satan's desire is to steal, kill, and destroy, and he does this best when he seeks to destroy relationships, whether it is the relationship between God and man or the relationships we have with one another.  Hatred and intolerance are his greatest weapons.  But our God is Love, and that love is far more powerful than anything Satan can throw at us.

Kakamega soldiers on their knees, equipped for combat.

To win this war, I believe, it takes an Army.  And as one member of this great Salvation Army, which is motivated by, committed to, and loudly proclaims God's love, I for one am ready for battle. 

Overwhelming victory is ours through Christ who loved us enough to die for us. 

 Romans 8:37 TLB.

Holding Nothing Back

Silver and gold I have none, but what I have, I give to thee.
Acts 3:6 (NLT)
 

 

Yep, it's been one of those weeks.  Somehow I have managed to flood our washroom on five of the last seven days, and on one of the two days when it didn't flood, the showerhead flew off.  Power has been intermittent at best, and the internet almost unknown.  And this morning, I did a week's worth of cardio after walking into the web of a rather nasty-looking spider.  Whew. 

Speaking of power, we recently celebrated the arrival on our compound of a brand new generator, provided through the kind support of the Florida Division.  The workmen duly lowered the generator into position, only to discover that the structure in which it was to be housed was too small.  So, the workmen did the only reasonable thing.  They promptly demolished the structure and started to build a bigger one on the same site.  It's taking a bit longer than they expected because of daily thunderstorms, but they soldier on.  Actually, the storms have sometimes been violent enough to keep Ken pacing from window to window to check on the state of the large trees around our house.  Several times he's banished me to the back room just in case.  So far, though, I'm glad to say that ours is the little house that could. 

Despite the dicey electricity, I decided at one point this week to make large pot of chili, so that I could freeze small portions for us to eat on those days when meat isn't available.  So I set aside an afternoon for soaking, washing, chopping, and boiling.  I even dumped in the tin of  black beans I was saving for a special occasion.  Oh, the anticipation!

When the chili was done, I dipped my spoon into the simmering pot, blew gently on the mixture, and gingerly brought it to my lips.  Yikes!  It was so spicy I ran to the refrigerator to find something, ANYTHING, that would take away the burn.  Apparently, I badly underestimated the strength of our local spices.  Wow!  After many attempts to 'fix' the concoction, Ken put his distraught wife to bed with a promise to "take care of the problem."

Oddly enough, the chili was not in my kitchen the next morning, and neither of us has mentioned the episode since.

After all this, I had had enough.  But on Sunday morning, Ken and I got up, put on our best white uniforms, and went to our corps for Harvest Festival Sunday.  It was a good service, but about ninety minutes into it, something happened that we didn't expect.  We watched silently as hundreds (yes, hundreds) of men, women and children, one at a time, proudly brought their gifts to the altar.  Most were small monetary offerings, all of which were given joyfully, but one woman brought a chicken, another a bag of maize, and one man laid stalks of sugar cane next to the Mercy Seat.  These folks had no cash, but they still wanted to bring their gifts to God, to present Him with the first fruits of their harvest.
 

Tithes at the altar

Suddenly it hit me.  God can use anything for His glory.  Not just money or things or small birds, but pleasures, hardships, adventures, disappointments - nothing is wasted when it is given to Christ.  The key is just to give it.

Right now, I am again sitting in the dark, hoping that the power will come back before I lose more meat in the refrigerator.  But you know what?  I've already given it to Him.  The Lord can have my meat.  It's all His anyway, and knowing that gives me a whole new perspective.

The Family Firm

We must work the works of Him who sent me and be busy with His business while it is daylight; night is coming on, when no man can work. 

 John 9:4 AMP

 

For months,  Ken and I had been looking forward to traveling back to the States to see family.  When I thought about reuniting with my loved ones, I would either giggle in anticipation or tear up with thanksgiving.  My emotions were on a rollercoaster, and my dear husband graciously endured the ride.

Finally, the day arrived to make our long safari to the airport.  Ken and I locked up our cottage, piled our bags into the vehicle, and said our goodbyes to all of our colleagues on the compound.

 

Before reaching America, Ken and I had the privilege of attending the High Council in London, where we participated in the election of the 20th General of The Salvation Army.  High Council members from around the world first met for two days to discuss the issues we face in our work to win the world for Christ.  Then, after listening closely to the words of each candidate and engaging in much prayer and meditation, we cast ballots for our new international leader.  For me, the High Council will always be a spiritual experience during which I reflect upon my own calling, and having witnessed the way in which the Lord moved during this High Council, I know without a doubt that God will bless our new General in the days to come. 
 

Praying for the Lord's guidance at the High Council.

After the High Council, we jumped on a plane to participate in the USA Southern Territory Bible Conference in Lake Junaluska, North Carolina, and it was there that we were reunited with Ken's family and with all of our friends in the South.  It was simply wonderful.  On top of everything else, we had the opportunity to enjoy such delicacies such as Krispy Kreme donuts, Starbucks lattes, Dairy Queen blizzards and dark chocolate Snickers.  God bless America.

One week later, we jumped on another plane and travelled to Seaside, Oregon in order to meet up with twenty-two members from my side of the family for a celebration of my father's 80th birthday.  Anyone familiar with the Lloyd clan will correctly surmise that we had a wild time with lots of laughter . . . which predictably turned to tears when the time came to say goodbye. 

I will admit that, in the course of our three-day return to Kenya, tears came to my eyes with some frequency.  But I eventually came to the conclusion that they were not just tears of sadness, but also of joy.  I realized that I was just leaving one part of the family in order to reunite with another, and that this wonderful thing called "family" was another gift from God in my life.

Another namesake, the newest baby Jolene, in Shigomere Division

 

The German poet, Johann Schiller, once wrote:

"It is not flesh and blood, but the heart which makes us fathers and sons."

  

There's a lot of truth in that.  Biology is one thing, but ultimately it's the power of Christ's blood in our hearts that makes us family in an eternal sense.  Whoever we are and whatever we're doing, we are brothers and sisters in Him, joint heirs to His promises.  So as a Salvation Army officer, I am truly a daughter working in the family business.  And what a wonderful business it is.