The Prophet

Stay true in the dark and stay humble in the spotlight. 

 Harold B. Lee

We were told to be prepared.  They said that our little town would be overrun by thousands of visitors. The local bank would run out of money.  Shelves at the market would be bare, and loud drums would keep us up at night.  They told us that "the prophet" was making his annual visit to Kakamega, and that everyone expected miracles.

On the appointed day, the prophet arrived just as they said he would, after dark, with a huge entourage and police escort.   After 'cleansing' the stadium in which his appearances would take place, he was taken to the best hotel in town.  All of the hotel staff were asked to leave so that it too could be 'cleansed' and the prophet's personal staff could move in.  So that hotel, which is normally quite busy, became a no-go zone for staff and residents alike.

Crowds at the crusade

Loved ones checked their family members out of the local hospital in anticipation of miraculous healing, and though there were heavy rains, thousands of men, women, and children slept in the uncovered stadium each night.  They did not want to lose their chance.  Every morning, "ushers" lined the main street between the hotel and the stadium, holding hands as the prophet passed by on his way to the venue.  A full brass band led the way.  The crusade was on.

Ushers making their way to the stadium

The prophet is gone now, and Kakamega has returned to normal.  We've not heard any stories of miraculous healing, but we do know of some who lost their lives in the stadium while they waited.  We've heard of the children who were trampled and the women who were raped.  We know of the people who spent every shilling they had just to see the prophet, hoping and praying for something that never took place.

I have been a bit unsettled since he left, and I'll admit that I've been a little angry at the fact that so much attention was on the man and not the God he purports to serve.  I'm angry that my African family was not directed to Christ.  But then, I think, I can't judge him, because I'm no better.  At home and in my ministry, there are days when my pride takes the focus off Christ.  And that's wrong.  And I'm ashamed.

For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve,

and to give his life as a ransom for many.   Mark 10:45

Lord, make me a true and a humble servant.  Work through me and in me -- for your glory.

Shine on me!

What can I give back to God for the blessings he’s poured out on me?
I’ll lift high the cup of salvation—a toast to God!
    I’ll pray in the name of God;
I’ll complete what I promised God I’d do,
    and I’ll do it together with his people.  Psalm 116:12-13 (MSG)

For months I had been dreaming of Christmas Eve, the day we would pack our suitcases and make our way into the rainforest for a well-deserved getaway.  Jessy had arrived safe and sound from the States, family and friends had supplied us with chocolates and sweets, and we even had enough little trinkets to fill three stockings.  So when the big day arrived, Ken filled our car with petrol, loaded up the supplies, and placed a Christmas wreath on the front grille.  We were off!

But as excited as I was, my heart was not quite right.  I thought to myself, "Where did the year go?"  It was as if my life had been so full this past year that I hadn't noticed the date so much as the list of things I had to accomplish.  I even asked the Lord to forgive me for not accomplishing all that I had intended during our first year here.  So much had been left undone.

Baboons on the road to our cottage in the rainforest

 

When we arrived at the Rondo Retreat centre, we unpacked our bags,and began preparing for the evening candlelight service.  At 8:55pm, the church bell rang.  Clutching our flashlights, we took the short walk through the dark to the chapel where we would join other guests (many of whom are also missionaries) for worship.

The tiny chapel was bathed in soft candlelight.  As we sat down, members of the Rondo staff, each holding a single candle, entered as they sang "Silent Night."  The service was moving, but it was the closing prayer by one of the missionaries that caught my attention.  He prayed that the Lord would shed His light on the past, as well as the present and future. 

When the service was over, we again stepped out into the pitch-black night, and I looked down to turn on my flashlight.  But Ken nudged me and said, "Look at that!"  For the first time that evening, I looked up, and it was then that I saw the most magnificent night sky I have ever seen.  There were a million brilliant stars.  They had been there all along, of course, but I simply hadn't noticed them.  I had been so caught up in dealing with the dark that I had simply failed to look up.

The next morning Ken gave the message at the Christmas service.  The title of his thought-provoking sermon was, "A Change of Perspective."   We hadn't talked about it the night before, but I knew in my heart that his message was for me.

When we returned to Kakamega on Boxing Day, I happened to stop by one of our local markets.  When I walked in, I heard something familiar, and then suddenly realized that it was the Pasadena Tabernacle Songsters, singing "Candlelight Carol."  One of the employees saw me, gave me a thumbs up, and yelled out, "We are playing the CD you gave us for Christmas."  I couldn't help but smile.  All of God's little messages were starting to make sense.

As Ken and I have reminisced over the past few days, we've been amazed to see just how good the Lord has been this year.  The Territory has opened fifty-one new corps and enrolled thousands of senior and junior soldiers.  Plans for the new Training College have taken shape, new programmes have been instituted, and the number of children enrolled in our schools has continued to grow.  Thanks to the generosity of donors around the world, the Army has been able to increase the number of sponsorships, install dozens of water tanks, repair or replace untold pieces of equipment, install new generators, and even secure medical insurance for its officers.  From my human perspective, every single day has been a tough one, filled with a myriad of challenges and obstacles.  But as I look back on the whole, I think I'm seeing it more as the Lord does . . . and I wouldn't change a thing.

 

Albert Schweitzer said it best when he wrote:

Your life is something opaque, not transparent, as long as you look at it in an ordinary human way.  But if you hold it up against the light of God's goodness, it shines and turns transparent, radiant and bright.  And then you ask yourself in amazement: 

 Is this really my own life I see before me? 

Leading the women of the Territory with the Home League flag in a victory march.

His light has shone down on my life this past week, and it's been as brilliant as those stars.  Thanks to His goodness, 2013 was a great year.  And you know what?  2014 promises to be even better.

Happy New Year!

 

 

 

 

It's Going to be OK

He is the Lord of the desert . . . even your desert.

Chuck Swindoll

Our tiny plane landed with a thud and skidded to a halt on the short airstrip.  Passengers disembarked while the crew unloaded the luggage, which included a large shipment of live chickens and a body that had been sent home for traditional burial. 

As soon as you arrive in Turkana, you know you're in a different world.  This county lies in the far northwest of Kenya, and it essentially consists of a 1,700 million-acre desert.  Gazing over the arid, desolate landscape, it's hard to imagine how anyone could survive there.

The realities of life in Turkana are overwhelming.  Severe drought over the last decade has left the people (and their herds) in desperate need of food and water.  More than 83 percent of the people earn less than $18 per month, which means that virtually all of them are below the poverty line.  Only three in every 100 children will ever have the chance to attend secondary school.  In fact, more than 80 percent of Turkana's people have never even set foot in a classroom.

Women leaving their traditional homes to fetch water.
 

But I didn't have time to reflect on these facts.  Instead, my attention was quickly directed to the people who had come to greet us.  Our plane had been delayed by fifteen hours, but they didn't seem to care.  They smiled, waved, and shouted their greetings to Ken and me.  A few of them ran forward to take our bags, all the time asking, "How is Kenya?"  Then we were whisked away to the Army's compound, where we were warmly welcomed by more than 100 officers, soldiers, men, women, and children, all of whom were eager to see the strangers who had come to visit them.

Over the course of the weekend, I would learn a great deal more about Turkana and the Army's work there, and quite frankly, the results that our officers and soldiers are able to achieve are nothing short of miraculous.  The vast majority of people in Turkana still follow traditional religion, but because of the perseverance and dedication of our dedicated team, more and more are being introduced to Christ.  Salvation Army programmes are growing, and we were even able to celebrate the opening of two new corps.  It was thrilling.

Most churches in Turkana ask women to remove their beads as soon as they become Christians.
 But not the Army.  The Army only asks them to remove the beads when they choose to wear uniform.

But whenever Ken and I had the opportunity to speak with officers about their personal situations, my heart broke.  Our people are starving, and no matter how hard they work or what they sacrifice, sending even one of their children to school remains a dream.  And don't even get me started on the deadly snakes, spiders, scorpions, and plants that pose a daily threat to the children. 

As I lay in bed that first night, I begged the Lord to show me what to do.  How could we help our Turkana family?  It is one thing to read about the situation in reports, I told Him, but putting faces to the stories made it almost too much to bear.  So couldn't He please give me an answer?  There was no response.

Ken and I have talked about Turkana every day since we got back to Kakamega, but the Lord still hasn't given me an answer to my plea.  But He has reminded me of His promise in  Revelations 7:16-17:

Never again will they hunger; never again will they thirst. The sun will not beat down on them, nor any scorching heat.   For the Lamb at the center of the throne will be their shepherd; he will lead them to springs of living water.  And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. 

That's right.  On top of everything else, He's the God of the desert.  He promises that, in the midst of our suffering, everything will one day be alright.  My prayers might not be answered immediately, but in His time and in His way, I can be confident that His people will one day feast at His banquet table, and that all of them will be more than satisfied.

When my own situation is desperate, when my spirit is forlorn, and when I'm tempted to see life as  empty as a wasteland, I must also remember to hold on.  Because He's the Lord of my desert too.   

The Imposible

I know that you can do all things and that no purpose of yours can be thwarted. 

Job 42:2

Earlier this year, the Women's Ministries Department in the USA Western Territory sent us funds for a Junior Home League Congress.  Our planning committee determined that, if we exercised good stewardship of those resources, we could host 1,500 girls for a four-day "Girls4God"  event.   But two weeks before the Congress, I was informed that 2,200 girls had registered.   Oh boy.  When she saw the panic on my face, my Junior Home League Secretary quickly said, "It's OK, Mama.  We will have enough food, and there is enough room at the school for them to sleep."  I trust my staff implicitly, and I knew that I wouldn't want to turn any girl away.  So I took a big breath, slowly nodded my head, told her not to accept any more registrations, and then silently started to pray for a miracle.

Well, the miracle came, but it wasn't the one I asked for.  When I finally arrived at the Congress, our vehicle had trouble entering the compound because more than 4,000 girls and leaders were there.  Closing registration had made no impact whatsoever.  Girls who hadn't signed up simply showed up.  One of the officers loudly declared that Mama would never turn away any of her girls, which was right.  So with a weak smile on my face and the biblical story of loaves and fishes on my mind, I welcomed them all.  But how would we manage?

 

Commissioner Kenneth Hodder and Lt. Colonel Edward Hill
 taking the salute in the Troop Uniform Contest

Well, God did it.  It was a simply wonderful four days, full of miracles, one right after another.  Twenty cooks slaughtered three bulls and 110 chickens.  A lorry arrived full of firewood.  The girls made room for one another to sleep on the floor, the rain was minimal, and all of the outdoor meetings took place as planned and on time.  Even the newly inaugurated Territorial Junior Home League Band was a big hit!

Some of the cooks preparing our daily greens.

We sang, we danced, we laughed, and we wholeheartedly worshiped the God who made the entire thing possible.  At the closing meeting on Sunday, well over 500 girls flooded to the mercy seat, and I wept.

Walt Disney once said,

It is kind of fun to do the impossible.

 

How true that is.  So I'm glad that my ladies took a risk.  And I'm impressed by their faith.  Their faith is in a God who likes to surprise his children with miracles, a God whose plans are always bigger and better than our own.  And mine.

 

Lt. Colonel Shelley Hill, our international guest,

with girls from Turkana, a distant region boarding Sudan and Ethiopia.

 

 

OK, Lord.  What do you want to do next?
 



 

Praise & Thanksgiving

Perhaps it takes a purer faith to praise God for unrealized blessings

 than for those we once enjoyed or those we enjoy now.  ~A.W. Tozer

When you're serving overseas, holidays can be hard.  It's always my intention to celebrate as if we were at home, of course, but our little observances inevitably fall short of my vision.

Thanksgiving Day was no different.  I was going to cook my husband the best feast he had ever tasted (Sorry, Mom!).  I even resolved to drive to Eldoret, which is 90 minutes away, in order to get the turkey.  But then I was told that the turkey would be a live one.  So much for that.  Then I learned that the nearest source for cranberry sauce is in Nairobi.  Scratch that as well.  And with the heat we're now experiencing, I had to abandon my plan to prepare a pumpkin pie from scratch.

But I wasn't to be defeated.  I was on a mission.

As you know, since the fire on our compound two weeks ago, we've been without city power.  I am certainly grateful to God (and the Clearwater Corps and the Florida Division) for our generator, but we simply can’t afford to run it all the time.  So it's switched off every day between 9:00 am and 3:00 pm.  It was my plan to arrive home early from work on Thanksgiving  and get to work the moment power was restored.   

As soon as the generator kicked in, I revved up the oven and rushed to my computer in order to pull up a recipe I'd found on the internet that promised to produce the “best, juiciest bird possible.”  I didn't have the turkey, of course, but I did have a rather large chicken, and Ken could pretend, couldn't he?

That's when I discovered that the internet was down.  I ran to my cell phone to call for help, but it wouldn't function either.  So, with no time to spare, I resolved to use an old recipe and went to the refrigerator to get the meat.  That's when I discovered that the power outage had caused the bird to drip raw juice all over the interior of the refrigerator.

I cleaned up the mess, prepared the bird, put it in the oven, and started to set the table.  But as I put on the tablecloth, I remembered that most of the chairs around our dining table would be empty this year.  My eyes welled up, and I grabbed the place settings and set up a romantic place for two on the coffee table.

The drama continued all afternoon, featuring bugs in the flour (AGAIN!), humongous ants in the pantry, a wimpy bird burnt on top, and flat biscuits burnt on the bottom.  Ken eventually arrived home to find dinner on the table, but he also found an over-heated, frustrated, exhausted wife.

After surveying the scene, Ken just took me in his arms, thanked me, said the aroma was wonderful, and proceeded to eat every morsel.  Then he encouraged me to sit down and rest while he did the dishes.

As I plopped down on the sofa, I thought about how much easier it is to be thankful when you have a table surrounded by family and friends, a sumptuous feast to enjoy, a football game to watch, and everything else that goes with the holidays.  Being thankful is a bit more of a challenge, though, when the day isn't quite picture perfect. 

Then I thought of my Kenyan brothers and sisters who, according to recent reports, make an average wage of $1.83 a day.  They struggle to survive, and yet they never fail to praise the Lord for His generous provision.  Suddenly, I felt very guilty about my sour mood, and the Lord reminded me of  Hebrews 13:15:

 

"Let us continually offer to God a sacrifice of praise..."  

 

 
To offer a “sacrifice of praise,” I must surrender something.  I must give up my self-pity, as well as my selfish plans and ambition. 

Lord, during this holiday season, I resolve to surrender everything.  Without any hesitation or reservation, I will celebrate your generous, unmerited blessings in my life.  I have so much for which to give thanks.


 

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.