Simply Chaos!

I am leaving you with a gift—peace of mind and heart.  
And the peace I give is a gift the world cannot give. So don’t be troubled or afraid.  (John 14:27)

Last Monday, we closed the offices, handed out work assignments, and as a team, cleaned our headquarters from top to bottom.   This is the third time we have held what we call "Projects Day," and everyone looks forward to it.  It's a complete change of pace, and it's a chance to bring a little order to what might otherwise become chaos rather quickly.  Furthermore, once the assigned areas have been cleaned and organized, everyone can go home early.  Whoopee!!

Two cabinet women sweeping Kenyan style

After thanking the staff with a cup of tea, Ken jumped into his vehicle to make an overnight trip to Nairobi, and I went home for a quiet evening.  But just as I was settling down for the night, one of our drivers called to inform me that there was rioting in the streets of Kakamega.  He asked that no one leave the compound, and while I felt perfectly safe (this Mama is well-protected), I prayed all night long for our people in the midst of that chaos.

The next morning, national newspapers reported that the local university would be closed indefinitely. Apparently, university officials had told the students they could not take their exams if they had not paid their school fees in full. This produced an angry mob, which soon brought out a large police force, which used tear gas on the students. Sadly, there were countless injuries, extensive property damage, and three deaths.  So we'll be feeling the effects of that night in our little town for some time to come.

Students vacating Masinde Muliro University 

The next night, I was particularly eager for Ken to get home.  Unfortunately, he got caught in a bad rainstorm, which turned the roads into quicksand.  And wouldn't you know it?  The battery on his mobile phone was low.  Ken has always pledged not to drive at night, but this time he had no choice. So when he finally drove up, I threw open the door and blurted out, "I am so mad at you for making me worry!"  But before he could respond, I just threw my arms around him and thanked the Lord for his safe return.

The next morning, I discovered a family of very unattractive spiders living in our pantry, the local ATM machine ate Ken's card for no reason, and more of our Kenyan family members fell ill with typhoid and malaria.  Everything in my life, it seemed, had suddenly become very chaotic.

But this shouldn't surprise me.  Order does not come naturally.   After all, isn't God's role in bringing order out of chaos one of the most prominent themes of the Bible?

CS Lewis wrote:

God cannot give us a happiness and peace apart from Himself,
 because it is not there.  There is no such thing!  

With effort, we can bring order to our homes and offices.   But when we are overwhelmed by the chaos around and within us, it is only Christ that can bring peace. Thank you, Lord, for reminding me of that.

A Far, Far Better Thing

  
They left everything and followed him.  Luke 5:11b

It has been over a week now since we returned from the States.   All critters, dead and alive, have been ushered out of our cottage, and every surface has been thoroughly disinfected.  Our food has been carefully checked for signs of life, and an inventory has been taken of that which survived.  The pantry has been restocked and is once again bursting with beans. We have stored our empty suitcases, and all the gifts from home have been put in the "perfect" place.  Most important, I have hidden the dark chocolate from Ken and announced a rationing plan that will make it last! 

I thank the Lord for every moment we spent with family and friends during our visit. When our daughter first returned to America, I remember that she threw her arms around the greeter at Walmart.  I was really no better, particularly when I jumped over the counter at Burger King and hugged the rather startled staff.  I'm sure they're still wondering about that crazy lady who ordered a whopper. Sorry folks.  I just can't help myself, but I hope I have made some new friends.  

During our visit, this Kenyan doll from Disney World was anonymously delivered to us.
 And you guessed it.  It sings "It's a Small World" in Swahili.

While in the States, we splurged on Krispy Kreme donuts, kettle corn, Dairy Queen blizzards and See's candy. Snickers bars, M&M's, and peanut clusters were a daily indulgence.  Grapes, berries, and fresh greens were eaten in abundance, and we couldn't get enough of that magnificent water -- from the tap even!

Ken luxuriated in air conditioning (glad I brought my flannel pj's), and he constantly praised the smooth roads and working street lamps.  I will also admit that, from time to time, things got a little ridiculous. I fought back tears as I strolled down the aisles at Target, and I choked up the first time I used a washer and dryer.  Oh boy.

One day, we visited the Florida Strawberry Festival.  If there was ever a celebration of Americana, that was it.  We had arrived early to beat the crowd, and I'll never forget the moment the fair officially opened.  A man sang the National Anthem over the sound system, and no matter where they were, everyone stopped dead in their tracks.  Hats were removed.  Hands were placed over hearts. Conversation ceased, and except for few brave souls that tried to sing along, it was perfectly quiet.   Tears streamed down my face.   O God, I thought.  Please bless America.  

The Strawberry Festival pig races made me feel like I was home in Kakamega!

Now we're back in Kenya, doing what we've been called to do among people we love. It's certainly not the first time I have had to leave friends and family behind, and I am sure it will not be the last.   It never gets any easier to say goodbye.  In fact, as our loved ones get older, it becomes that much harder. But I do believe CS Lewis when he says:

There are far, far better things ahead then any we leave behind.

God has proven the truth of that statement in my own life over and over again.   I have learned that my own dreams and desires inevitably fall short of the life He has planned for me.  So where He leads me, I will follow.  After all, He has brought me to this wonderful part of the world called Kenya.  Once again, His plan has surpassed my wildest dreams.

The Fog

Fog is where heaven meets earth. 

Last week, we received reports from our district leaders in Turkana that the food situation there was getting worse by the day.  Drought has left all of the rivers and boreholes as dry as a bone, and people are starving.  Animal carcasses litter the landscape, and families have resorted to killing cats and dogs in order to feed the children.  It is estimated that over 400,000 men, women, and children are affected.

What makes this situation even harder for me is that I can put a face to those who are suffering.  When I close my eyes, I can still see the beautiful young girls who danced for me when I visited Turkana last December.  I think of the old woman who took my hand and wouldn't let go until I danced right along with her.  The ladies adorned me with beautiful beads, and then despite intense heat, prepared one feast after another for Ken and me to enjoy.  They were so kind, so loving, and so it's hard to hold back the tears.

A Turkana family

Desperate to help, Ken offered to send funds, but apparently there isn't much left to buy in Turkana.  He then offered to send a truck filled with foodstuffs, but he was told that bandits are hijacking food shipments.  Ken's going to try the truck option anyway, praying that the Lord will work a miracle and get the supplies through to our people.  Both of us know that anything we send will only be a temporary fix, but we just don't know what else to do.

Meanwhile, our work in other parts of the Territory must go on.  On Sunday, Ken and I climbed into our vehicle and made our way north in order to visit a small corps that has never before been visited by Territorial leaders.  We traveled for a while on the main road, but then we turned and drove deep into the bush, leaving any kind of road far behind.  The undergrowth was almost impenetrable, and our vehicle lurched from side to side as it negotiated the rocks, potholes, and sand that conspired to block our way.  Dry branches made a terrible racket as they scraped the side of our vehicle.  At one point, the lead vehicle in our convoy got stuck, and I chuckled when several men, resplendent in their white Salvation Army uniforms, got out to push.  The trip seemed to go on and on, and I couldn't see any end in sight. But eventually, I heard a band in the distance.  We pulled into a clearing and began what I can only describe as a joyful day of worship among the Teso people.  Two hundred of us gathered under a tree to sing songs, dance, and pray.  It was wonderful.

Ken dancing as we were welcomed at the corps.

As we drove home that night, I sensed a connection between what I'd experienced that day and what was going on in Turkana.  In both cases, I thought, I couldn't see a way out.  It was as if I was in a fog. But I think the Lord was showing me that, when I can't see the way, it's often because he's protecting me.

Scripture says in Matthew 6:34:

Give your entire attention to what God is doing right now, 

and don't get worked up about what may or may not happen tomorrow.

My God is in control.  All He asks of me is to take one step at time and believe that, when the fog of uncertainty clears, I will once again have reason to celebrate His goodness. 

The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

If life were easy, where would all the adventures be?

Stop the music!  Please!  Someone in a compound just down the road has been playing music -- loud music -- for 36 hours straight now, and there doesn't seem to be any end in sight.  I try to be understanding, knowing that funerals in Kenya are normally accompanied by loud and lengthy gatherings.  It's considered part of the mourning process.  But a woman has her limits, and sleep deprivation is beginning to take its toll.  

And that's not the half of it.  This is the hot season in western Kenya, and ants -- big ants -- are the order of the day.  No matter what I do, I just can't seem to get those little creatures out of my kitchen.  In fact, we're locked in a fierce battle for control of that part of the house.

Fortunately, I have some allies.  Geckos.  That's right.  Geckos.  They're not the cleanest house guests, of course, but they love insects, and that entitles them to somewhat different treatment in our home.  In fact, one of the geckos, who Ken and I have named "Gary" (Boy, we have WAY too much time on our hands!) stops by to visit us every night at dinner.  In fact, if he's the slightest bit late, I begin to worry, because I know it will mean that my battle with the ants will be that much harder later on!

Our Friend, Gary

We got some news this week.  The government has decided that it is going to require all drivers to retake the driver's test by the end of the year.  Now I have to admit that it would be nice if everyone on the road in Kenya actually had a legitimate license, and it would be even better if most of them followed the rules of the road.  But such is not the case, and so I'm rather skeptical about the whole project.  I'd rather just trust in Ken's defensive driving skills and keep my eyes open for things that, well, you'd probably never see back home.

Yes, that's two men and a live pig on their way to town.

I guess that, like most people, I have an opinion on just about everything.  I form judgments about this situation or that person, and there will always be some part of my life that I don't like or agree with. But in my devotions this morning, I read once again what Paul wrote in Romans 8:28: 

 In ALL things God works for the good of those who love him, 

who have been called according to his purpose.

The blaring music, the aggressive ants, the hungry geckos, the unsafe roads.  Whatever I might think about them, all these things have a place in my life.  I can try to ignore them or choose to complain about them.  I can just throw up my hands and bemoan my fate.  Or, I can learn to accept it all as part of an adventure.  A spiritual adventure.  One that the Lord has planned just for me.

OK, Lord.  I'm all yours, and if it's for my good, I'm ready for more.  What's next? 

   

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.