Have I Been Wrong All Along?

Be strong enough to stand alone, smart enough to know when you need help,

 and brave enough to ask for it. 

Ziad K. Abdelnour

President Obama has arrived!  The local news is reporting that two-thirds of Kenya's security forces have been taken to Nairobi to protect "the most powerful man alive." People are flocking to the big city to get a glimpse of their hero as he returns to his ancestral homeland.  And those who can't go are doing their best to stay fully informed. On a walk around our compound yesterday, I was tickled to find our three security guards huddled around a radio listening to the Star Spangled Banner as the announcer reported every detail of the President's arrival.

Maasai men watching Obama's arrival on TV

I've also noticed that rumors are everywhere.  "Why are the market shelves empty?"   "Obama's security personnel have stopped shipments."  "Why haven't we had internet this week?"  "Obama's security detail has blocked it." "The crops are dry, where is the rain?" " The nation has been praying for dry weather for Obama's visit."

But while everyone's attention seems to be on the American President, I do have to admit that mine has not.  My attention has been on the women with whom I have the privilege of serving at Territorial Headquarters.  Three of the ladies in my department are ill -- one with typhoid, another with malaria, and a third with pneumonia. In fact, a fourth is on bed rest with a blood clot in her leg.  I have been praying hard that they will all get appropriate medical care.

At the same time, one of my expatriate friends recently woke up to find that her husband had died during the night, leaving her with young children to raise.  She is a successful, independent business woman, but now she finds herself desperate for the support of a faith community.

During my prayer time for these women, the Lord brought 1 Corinthians 12:21 to mind:

The eye cannot say to the hand, “I don’t need you!” 

And the head cannot say to the feet, “I don’t need you."  

Suddenly I realized that for years I have been striving to empower the women in my ministry to be independent agents, relying solely upon God.  Have I been wrong?

Dedicating the community well in Sabatia

Perhaps I should have been encouraging them simply to do their part, and then to let others do theirs.  After all, even the most powerful man in the world needs help. Interdependence is what we really need.  We need a healthy, reciprocal relationship in which parties are mutually influenced by, supported by, and helped by one another.  We need to trust and rely on each other's unique contributions.  That is why God has given each one a gift that can benefit the entire Body of Christ.

So maybe independence is overrated.  After all, being interdependent takes a lot more guts.  It takes trust, faith, and courage to lean on someone else.  And it takes the strength to hold them up as well.  

Off Road Adventure

Dear brothers, is your life full of difficulties and temptations? Then be happy,  for when the way is is rough, your patience has a chance to grow.  So let it grow, and don’t try to squirm out of your problems. For when your patience is finally in full bloom, then you will be ready for anything, strong in character, full and complete. 
 James 1:2-4   TLB

Our recent staff conference was a big success, but I confess that I was looking forward to getting home to Kakamega.  I missed my own bed, and was craving an American-style tuna fish sandwich!

A Typical Meal at the Staff Conference

We arrived at the compound gate, were saluted by the security guard, and drove in. When we reached our quarters, we climbed out of the mud-covered vehicle and fiddled with the key ring to find the correct skeleton key to open the steel gate.  Then Ken searched his keys once again to find the right key to open the front door.  As I waited, I thought about the recent discussion our staff has been having about beefing up security in light of terrorists threats.  "Great," I thought, "Then it will take forever to get in the house."

The Security Gate on Our Compound

As we entered, I did my usual loud tap dance so as to scare away unsuspecting critters. Then I reached over to turn on the light.  No power.  Ken put down the suitcases and went back out, only to learn that our area had been without power for several days, and that the generator had run out of fuel.  So he sat down to call the Property Secretary while I said a little prayer.  Please, Lord, don't let me lose everything in my freezer.

My next job was to check the house for any floods that may have occurred during our absence. Fortunately, there were none, but for some strange reason, the hallway floor was covered in termite wings.  I went into the washroom, and as I turned, a large spider descended from the ceiling right in front of my face.  Really? I whined.  In the past, that alone would have sent me yelling for Ken to "do something."  But since a deadly black mamba was found in our back garden recently, spiders just don't get the same reaction from me that they used to.  Of course, it doesn't help that, while cleaning Ken's study last week, I found a snake skin.

Yes, life here is just one little adventure after another.

Our family has been in Kenya for more than five and one-half years now, and this place has become home in many ways.  The cows, pigs, and occasional baboons blocking the road just make me giggle. I've learned to let my body flop around inside our vehicle to avoid another whiplash on the rough roads.  Police officers with AK-47's don't even get a rise out of me.  I've made good friends with the guards who search me whenever I enter the market, and I've even learned to stand on my toes when planting a tree so as to prevent my heels from sinking into the mud.  Try doing that while hundreds of people are watching!

But once in a while, as you would anywhere, I hit a rough patch.  That's when I have to remind myself of what van Gogh said:

"Normality is a paved road.  It's comfortable to walk on, but no flowers grow on it."

God puts us in uncomfortable situations now and then in order to stretch us and force us to exercise our faith.  He does that because He loves us too much to leave us where we are.

So while I'm never sure where he is taking me, I choose to be patient as the Lord guides me over the rough terrain. With His help, I'll continue to grow into a woman strong in character, full and complete.  Bring on the adventure!

What Do You See?

Faith is being sure of what we hope for. It is being sure of what we do not see.

Hebrews 11:1 (NIV)

Ken found me rummaging through the cupboards before the sun came up, an empty Easter basket in my hand.  "Sweetheart," he gently asked, "What are you doing?"  Turning to him with tears in my eyes, I whimpered, "I haven't been able to find anything to put in your Easter basket."  With an understanding smile, he pulled me into his arms and whispered, "It's OK, darling."

Standing there together, I thought about the ways in which we would celebrate different holidays before Ken and I entered international service.   A loyal disciple of Martha Stewart, I always made sure our home was decorated.  It didn't matter how important the holiday was for me.  I was determined that it would be special for my family.  So that morning, as I sobbed and apologized, I came to the conclusion that I had not only failed my husband, but I had probably let Martha down as well.

I was still in a bit of a funk as we left the quarters to conduct the Easter meeting.  But as I stepped out the door, I spied a lovely lily in our garden. "Look!" I shouted.  "Have you ever seen an Easter lily around here?"  Ken and our driver just shrugged their shoulders. "It's an Easter miracle just for me!" I yelled.

Believe it or not, it was only a few minutes later that I saw a baby lamb on the side of the road.  No, really.  Then, as we were driving into the compound in which we would worship, I saw not one, but two rabbits.  I could hardly contain myself.  As we got out of our vehicle, I exclaimed to the District Officer,  "There are two bunnies over there!" Oddly, he didn't see my announcement as big news, but I nevertheless turned to our driver, gave him my phone, and said, "Take some pictures of my miracle!"

Sitting in the corps quarters a few minutes later, I found myself listening to a conversation about the Army's primary school in that community.  And for no reason in particular, it suddenly occurred to me that I had never seen a Kenyan child with glasses. I asked about this, and I was told that most families simply can't afford glasses.  Parents rely instead on herbal remedies, and when that doesn't work, the children simply drop out of school.  They can't read a book, they can't see the blackboard, and they can't take the tests.  My heart broke.  The solution was so simple.

A Typical Class in Our Schools

On the way home, the two strands of thought came together. I thought about my Easter miracles and about the children who couldn't see the blackboard.  I remembered something that Thoreau wrote:

"It's not what you look at that matters.  It is what you see."

It's easy to be blinded by the glare of the physical world, and without the spectacles of faith, our vision of what is and what should be can be way off the mark.  The lily, the lamb, and the bunnies of my Easter Sunday could have been overlooked, dismissed as a mere coincidence.  Or maybe, just maybe, they were a gift from a loving God to his homesick child, telling her that no matter where she is, she's home.

So tell me.  What do you see?

Heaven's Gain

For to me, living means opportunities for Christ, and dying—well, that’s better yet!

Philippians 1:21 

The long rains have finally arrived.  Bushes that I thought had died are turning green. The dust that seemed to cover everything has been washed away, and even the dirt itself has come to life with worms and other insects. Farmers are breathing a sigh of relief, and families are celebrating God's provision in newly-filled water tanks, wells, and ponds.  Our THQ family is even celebrating the safe arrival of two perfect little babies.  This Territorial Mama could not be more pleased and more proud.

Madzuu Salvationists Carrying Water

But although we are rejoicing in new life, death is always nearby.  Last week, one of our corps treasurers was murdered.  The young son of an officer couple went to bed and never woke up.  On Sunday, a home league secretary was killed in an accident outside the corps compound after worship.  Five members of one Army family was hospitalized after eating poisoned rice, and while most recovered, one young boy did not.

A Typical Coffin Made in Kenya

I never did like that well-known quote:

Our Loss is Heaven's Gain. 

But for me, that phrase has taken on new meaning.  While we spend a great deal of our time using health charts, teaching disease prevention, and partnering with medical professionals, we are not here to be doctors. We are not here as police or security. We're here for heavenly purposes.

So I suppose it's true.  If we take every opportunity to point others to Christ and to the salvation He offers, our loss will always be Heaven's gain.  And when we all get to Heaven, what a day of rejoicing that will be.

Armed with Weakness

He answered me, “I am all you need. I give you My loving favor.  My power works best in weak people.”  I am happy to be weak and have troubles
so I can have Christ’s power in me.
^{2 Corinthians 12:9b (NLV)} 

Last week I was escorted to Amalemba market to visit a few of the women in our Survivors program. These are women who have made their living as prostitutes, but with the encouragement of the Army, are now running small businesses instead.

I couldn't have been more proud.  One young girl showed me her business license as I stepped into the tiny wooden shack where she sells homemade chips (french fries). "Someday," she said, "I am going to have a dress shop."  Another woman sells fruits and vegetables, and yet another coal.  I was amazed, however, to discover that one has opened a hair salon, complete with electricity.  After she played with my mzungu hair for a few moments, she took us on a tour of the market, proudly announcing that she has been appointed as the manager.

A Truly Perfect Salon

Recently Ken and I visited a corps in the bush that is led by a lovely young couple.  They serve the people of a poor mountain community, which means that their corps hall, quarters, and kitchen are all made of cow dung and mud.  They are also unable to find school fees for their children.  In fact, they struggle to feed them.

Yet when we asked the young officer about his calling, he simply replied, "The Lord called me to sacrifice.  That is why I am here."  I guess it's not surprising that this couple is greatly loved, not only by the corps, but by the entire community.  It's also no surprise that souls are being won for Christ, and that the corps is growing by leaps and bounds. The hall won't be made of mud and dung for long!

The Corps Hall

We conduct an Officers Councils somewhere in the Territory approximately twice a month.  Recently we visited a district where, as usual, everyone came dressed in their best uniform.  But I'll never forget one young officer who sat proudly in the front row.  I couldn't take my eyes off her, and it wasn't because the insignia on her uniform had been stapled on, or that her shoes were so worn I wasn't sure how they stayed on her feet.  It was because she took notes with a fury.  It was as if she was determined not to miss a single element of the messages we shared that day.  I was captivated by her passion for the things of God.

I am reminded every day that I serve alongside some amazing people. Despite a range of difficult circumstances, they continue to live their lives with enthusiasm, passion, joy and commitment. Nothing gets in their way.

I now understand Fredrick Phillips when he said:

It is often hard to distinguish between the hard knocks in life and those of opportunity.
                   

Life is not easy here, and I could give you a long list of the reasons why it's just too hard. Armed with excuses, it would then be easy for me simply to go through the motions of daily life and ministry on autopilot.  But my experiences lately have served as a reminder that God didn't call me to serve in Kenya because of my strengths.  He called me here because of my weaknesses, because it's the weaknesses that amplify the power of Christ. My brokenness is the opening through which He can work.

So bring it on!

Project Beauty

For this reason, I remind you to rekindle the gift of God that is within you.

 2 Timothy 1:6a (NRSV)

The alarm sounded.  I quickly sat up, crawled out from underneath the mosquito net, stretched my arms to the ceiling, and boldly declared, "Today I start Project Beauty!" Ken chuckled as he turned over, but I leapt from my bed and marched out of the room with purpose.

We are in the dry season, which is perhaps the least attractive time of year in Kenya. Everything, and I mean everything, is covered in brown dust.  Plants are either dormant or dying, and every insect known to science has come out of the woodwork (yes, and I mean that literally) to search for moisture.  In fact, during Candidates Council this week, I found it difficult to concentrate on the agenda because of an ugly bug sitting in the middle of our boardroom table.  Incredibly, no one else seemed to notice until it started to move toward me.  At that point, another officer deftly swept the creature to the floor with his own papers.  Great, I thought.  Now it can crawl up my leg.

Home League ladies from Bungoma cleaning up the community market.

You could say that there's been a lot of ugliness in our lives over the past few weeks.  Ken came home and proudly announced he had found a "user friendly" rat trap at the market for our home.  He tried to show me how it worked, but I had absolutely no interest in the thing.

One of our accepted candidates recently failed to report to the Training College, and she's still missing.  Her parents, her fiance, and her corps family have no idea what happened to her. She has simply vanished.

In order to promote road safety, the authorities in Kakamega County have placed a wrecked vehicle on a high platform in the middle of town.  While I understand their good intentions, this has been a problem for me in two ways.  First, that particular car was the one in which one of our corps leaders was riding when it was struck by an out-of-control lorry.  He did not survive.  Second, since the car was placed on its pedestal, people have been stripping it for parts.  That doesn't help the message.

On top of all that, we have to deal with the usual amount of difficult news that reaches our offices every day.

The Lord has reminded me in my prayers this morning of a quote from Elsie de Wolfe, the woman credited with turning interior design into a profession:

I am going to make everything around me beautiful.  That will be my life.  

To that I say, "Amen!"  After all, when the Lord created the world, He started with chaos and had to bring order to it.  He took a shapeless mass and created a beautiful backdrop for our lives.  And then, He performed the same beautiful miracle in our hearts!

God painting the sky in Kenya

So it's clear to me that our God believes in beauty and in its power.  Beauty draws you in, and says all is well.  It comforts and it inspires.  And as children made in His image, shouldn't we create lovely things too?  We all do it differently, of course, because we have all been given different gifts.  But every single one of us can be a creator of beauty in one way or another.

So as I cleaned my home, gave myself a facial, and painted my nails yesterday as part of Project Beauty, I also took a moment to make a surprise tea for the guards on our compound.  I prepared a gift for a young mother in need, and I wrote a letter of encouragement.

Beautiful.  And powerful.

Praying or Pleading?

For you are great, and do wondrous things; You alone are God.

 Teach me YOUR way, O Lord; I will walk in YOUR truth.  Psalm 86:10-11 (NKJV)

I love watching my African sisters carry everything from fruit and vegetables to firewood on their heads. They do it with such beauty and grace.  Their example reminds me of the burdens I take up every morning when I leave my quarters.  Poverty, death, illiteracy, corruption, starvation, and witchcraft are just a few of the burdens that I must carry here. The load is heavy and uncomfortable, and while I certainly do my best, I'm not sure that I demonstrate half as much dignity and grace in the process.

A few weeks ago, the street boys of Kakamega asked to take the Hodder family on a tour of the town as they know it.  They wanted to show us how and where they live.  As we began our walk, two of the youngest took me by the hand, eager to protect me.  Another boy, who unfortunately is addicted to sniffing glue, kept his eye on the traffic.  Whenever we stopped at a busy intersection, he would grab my arm to make sure that Mama made it safely to the other side.  The boys took us to the trash dump where they scavenge for food, and then to the dilapidated mud huts where some of them sleep.

At one point, an older boy stopped me and bent down to tie my shoe.  As he did so, my heart broke when I noticed that not only was he shoeless himself, but his feet were covered in horrible sores.  Another reached out to steady me as I crossed a rickety wooden plank that had been laid over an open sewer, and then asked if we could go to the hut in which he lives.  We agreed, and once we arrived, Ken was asked to enter and bless the "home" with a prayer.   Dozens of other residents, who had all come out to greet the visitors, asked for a similar blessing.

In another hut, I saw through the darkness that the walls had been decorated with charts of the English alphabet, addition and subtraction, and the spelling of simple words.  That hut was fortunate to have parents in residence, and I was learned through our translator that their eldest boy had recently started attending our makeshift school at Territorial Headquarters.  Although uneducated themselves, the parents stood tall and proudly announced that their son would some day be a teacher.  After praying a blessing on their humble home, I quietly slipped out, hoping they did not see me wipe away a tear.  

The tour lasted for several hours, and I never stopped praying for miracles the entire time. Lord, I prayed, how can this happen?  I felt hopeless, discouraged, and even a bit angry. Why, Lord?  Why did you send me here?  Why have you given me these boys to love?   How can I sleep at night knowing they are hungry? 

Martha's Boys with the Hodders and Major Eleanor Haddick, our Social Services Secretary

Throughout the following week, I found myself begging God for resources to meet the demands of our ministry.  I  found myself pleading for Him to lighten my load.  

It was during one of my quiet times about two weeks later that the Lord finally spoke to me through a quote from Henry Blackaby's book, Experiencing God:

God invites you to become involved with Him in His work.

It occurred to me that, instead of constantly praying for God to do this or that based on my own vision and plans, I should try to put myself in tune with what He is already doing.  I should simply make myself available to do His work, according to His perfect plan.  When I stop to consider how these boys are slowly being transformed,  I can see that God is up to something big.  Really big.  And I want to be part of it.