Saturday was so long, so full, so good… I think I’m still tired from it… still overwhelmed at the blessings. It’s Sunday morning in Kenya, my heart is filled to overflowing, it’s long before sunrise, my mind is on preaching one final time and on packing before we fly home tonight. I want to finish well. It’s so easy to let these final hours slip through our fingers and not make the most of each minute. God only knows when, or if, we’ll have the opportunity to return. With all that’s gone so well, each of our expectations exceeded in every way, even still, my heart is on home this morning. John should be preaching our Saturday evening service as I write. He’s in my prayers. Never have I been more proud to pastor Central Community then these days in Kenya.
Our evening ended on a parking lot last night, under the light of the full moon, in what we’d been warned was one of Nairobi’s roughest areas. The people received and welcomed Marty and I as if we were honored guest of great distinction. I had preached on the little platform until nightfall and then introduced the Jesus Film. As the sound of The Gospel, began to reverberate off the concrete, into the market place and through the Saturday evening throngs, a crowd of hundreds gathered. I wouldn’t even begin to make an estimate. In front of the screen sat dozens of little children, tightly knit together, behind them people stood for two hours, just to hear Jesus speak. Passing trucks stopped and people filled their beds and sat on the cabs to see over the crowds, it seemed that everyone in Kahawa West was at the Jesus Film.
The crowd broke into at first shy and as the movie progressed, loud applause at ever miracle. It was the kind of moment that you read about in books. I stood with the pastor who’d invited us to his community. Who had risked his reputation to organize everything, and shared his joy. And then the power went out. It’s the second time this trip its happened right at the crucifixion. Makes one wonder about the forces at play to keep The Good News out of certain areas… It’s not like the people of Kenya don’t have the opportunity to see this film. For those who own or know someone wealthy enough to own a television, it’s shown every Easter. But for some odd reason it’s shown only in English. People in the community, people in every community, have begged for even the copies we’re using in their own languages. In areas like Kahawa West, English is rarely, if barely spoken. Most have had it in school, but sort of the way many of us had Spanish in school. And speak it about as well as most of us who grew up in Southern California speak Spanish: poorly, at best. The prospect of getting the message of a movie in English is far beyond their skills.
The power out for miles around us, we went back to our bush survival skills, started up the van, hooked up the converter and restarted the movie… about half the crowd had left… then our dvd player, a machine that’s functioned perfectly up until now, went out and the masses slipped away, just shy of the resurrection. I felt like crying as Marty and Alan tried everything they could to get things up and running, to no avail. With all electricity out, ours, and the cities, we found ourselves standing with pastors, now needing to clear away their stage and sound system, in darkness. Apologizing profusely for the failure of our gear, each pastor said almost the same thing: “The Holy Spirit has now planted the seed. It’s in God’s Hands.” The frustration we felt was almost non-existent, or very well hidden so as not to embarrass already red faced guests.
It was hard to complain. We had already had an amazing day by any standards. Pastor David’s little church had been packed with pastors from across Nairobi for the Pastor’s Workshop. The response to the teaching was beautiful and the books; The Purpose Driven Church, by Rick Warren and Your First Two Years in Youth Ministry, by Doug Fields, were received with great joy. When we ran out, it was hard to face the crestfallen pastors. Such simple gifts, things we take for granted at home, held on to like life preservers by pastors doing everything they can just to keep the doors of their churches open.
During the luncheon, following the workshop, pastor’s and church leaders expressed their thanks and we received more invitations to return then any one pastor could accept in a lifetime of preaching. In closing my workshop, I’d handed out a card with a simple acrostic, developed during a series of messages at Central Community, titled THINK. It covers 5 simple steps to a successful walk with God: Thank God, Honor God with our bodies, Ignore temptation to control our emotions, Never give up… no matter what, and Keep the Faith, for this generation and the generations yet to come. You’d have thought I was handing out gold. Pastor’s approached me in the darkness throughout the Jesus Film, asking for more of the cards. So many of these men and women said “Yes” to God without any formal education, many pastor’s we’ve met struggle to even read. This simple guideline for living “clicked” with them and they wanted to make sure ever pastor in Nairobi had a copy. Needless to say, I was humbled.
On the backside of the THINK card I’d had Julia print what so many of you have become familiar with, sort of a signature piece of all my guest speaking, my little “Do The Right Thing” card my mother gave me as a child. Reading it aloud with the pastors it was easy to see it worked in every language and each community represented. I encouraged them to put it at the heart of their ministries, their lives, just as I’ve done my best to keep it in mine. God was moving in power and the hearts of pastors were opened… then we showed the documentary, Glue Boys, made by Phil Hamer, while living with street children in Kitale, Kenya.
Phil, wish you could have been with me: John, never more proud that you worked on Glue Boys as I was Saturday. It had exactly the intended effect. If this documentary never makes it to the big screen in America, it has a waiting audience in the churches of Kenya. The president of the pastor’s fellowship for all of Nairobi was with us for the day. He’s held in the highest regard by all the pastor’s and had been introduced and asked to “greet” the workshop. After viewing Glue Boys, he held my hand and with tears welling up in his eyes, said: “I have to change my ministry. I have to change the way I’m doing everything. This has touched me deeply.” In the discussion session following the movie pastors asked for help, wanted to know how they could do something, confessed their failures… and one pastor, Pastor Jane, told me she has 4 glue boys living in her home, another said he’s been trying to build his work around these children… they were encouraged beyond encouragement. It was as if I’d brought exactly what they’d been looking for… and they didn’t even know they’d been looking. It was amazing.
Two children central to the story of the poverty and dangers awaiting children on the streets of Kenya are Charles and Thomas. Watching the film, I praised God for Pastor Steve Rutenbar, of Saddleback Church, who just one week earlier had insured that these boys had safe haven at Deliverance Church in Kitale. Made me wish I’d taken a few more minutes with the kids, regardless the situation. Pastor’s asked if I could show it in their churches or give them copies they could show. I thought again about the simple truth in life: everybody wants to do something good with their life; they’re just waiting for someone to show them how. That’s the hard part with Glue Boys, the next step. My sister and her family have developed a follow up program to meet the needs of these kids, through the local church, wish I’d had the presence of mind to have a copy of the proposal for every pastor. I’d been worried they would feel like I was an outsider throwing unwanted light on a heartbreaking situation: far from it. Godly men and women were ready to answer the call… I’m amazed every day at the lessons God teaches me. He’s too good.
My next update will be from an airport, or from home, know that you’re in my hearts. Continue to keep us in your prayers for safari salama (safe journey- my Swahili is picking up!), for health and for God to use these final hours with his church in Kenya. Preaching this morning again in Kahawa West… then sleeping all the way home! Don’t know how missionaries do this. I wasn’t made for the road.
Blessings,
Eric
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After crossing Nairobi, we pulled into the busy neighborhood just as people were coming home from work on a Friday evening. Most people don’t own cars in Kenya, so a busy neighborhood, is filled with people walking, most looking exhausted at the end of the day, some headed out to the simple, outdoor market place to find fresh food stuffs for dinner. We parked our van and the pastor directed us to the site of the crusade, a simple parking lot, half filled with cars, the church had received a permit to use for the weekend.
Every experience in Kenya is a learning experience for me. Though I’d seen preachers set up on street corners, in parks and even parking lots, while crossing Nairobi, it had never entered my mind that I was about to enter the world of outdoor crusades. After receiving reassurance from Alan, a man who has become much more than our driver or even friend, but a man who has guided us every day of Kenyan living, that this was in fact “the Kenyan way” for a crusade, I began to prepare myself for this new setting.
The stage was being set up while a group of men worked on the sound system. Marty jumped right in and you’d have thought he knew these men for years. I guess sound men are the same around the world and in any language. Then the music began… LOUD MUSIC… in Swahili, with the worship leader and praise team inviting the shoppers, the surrounding residents and anyone walking by to worship The Lord, then it was my turn. I’d watched little children and the curious run to the parking lot as we worshipped. Had taken in the urban poverty surrounding me and my only thought was: “This is just where Jesus would be.” And He was there.
Preaching to the parking lot reminded me a lot of our years with Wordstock, the music festival we use to have in the park at home. The pastor and his church had gone to so much work and then they were disappointed that not nearly the crowd they expected had turned out. They blamed themselves and apologized for starting it too early on a Friday evening, while rush hour was still heavy. I told them they had nothing to be sorry about. They were trying something new for their church and I was proud to share their big moment. And the people who came were so responsive, the sun had set while I was speaking and the last words, an invitation to “restore the joy of our salvation” came from the translator under equatorial moonlight. Praying together, for those longing for a new joy in Christ and for those wanting to receive Christ… I thought of my dad.
Since he suffered his stroke last year, I find that I actually try NOT to think of him sometimes, I need him to talk with, to share an experience, and that’s not something he’s fully able to do any longer. Each moment spent with mom and dad is precious, and I thank God for our time together, it’s just not the same. He’s shown me the way for so long- he and mom were in Africa, serving God, in the 60’s and 70’s, long before I ever imagined God would draw me to the Kahawa West Crusade in Nairobi. Looking at the crowd, I wondered how many times he’d preached to groups that didn’t reach the pastor’s expectations, yet had still given all he had, because he was serving God, longing to please Him First. I drew on childhood memories for motivation… and God used the moment. I trust He’ll use the rest of this weekend.
A song my father often sang in the morning has been stuck in my head for several days. It’s with me now, as I watch the sunrise, while writing from our balcony at the Safari Park Hotel in Nairobi, listening to birds of more varieties than I could name or imagine, wake the new day. It goes like this:
Some Golden Daybreak, Jesus will come.
Some Golden Daybreak, battles all won.
He’ll shout The Victory, Break through the blue.
Some Golden Daybreak… for me, for you.
Yesterday morning at breakfast, Marty and I reviewed the trip before our long bumpy drive, which we made safely, back to Nairobi. Marty said: “You know, before I left, I really didn’t know if we’d ever make it back.” (Odd, I’d had the same strange feeling about this trip and had tried not to talk about it) Then he said he’d made the decision to come after reflecting on what a great life he’d already had, how much he loved judy, his kids and grandkids, how it would have been hard for anything to have been any better and “If God wanted it all to end in Africa, on this trip, that would be ok.” What a great faith: faith enough to put every moment, to take great risks, to go where God wants us to go, leaving it all in His Hands, putting everything on the line. I’ve always been proud to have Marty as a friend, after this trip, I’m humbled that he calls me his friend and pastor. God has been so very good to us. We’re homesick, I’m physically sick, we’ve still got two full days of work ahead of us- pastor’s workshop today, preaching and the Jesus Film tonight, then two or three services Sunday before we fly out late in the evening.
Continue to pray. Your prayers sustain us. Last night, under the moon in a little parking lot in a part of Nairobi most of you will never have reason to be in, I gave the people making decisions this assurance: “12,000 miles away, in California, the people of Central Community are praying for you. They’re praying that God does a great work in this place, this weekend. That the revival needed to “restore the joy” of our salvation begins and that we embrace it.” Thank you. We could never be here, doing the work we’re doing for God, without your loving prayers and support. Know that we miss you and are anxious to be home together but that we’re working with a confidence that the world doesn’t have. It’s why the world will never defeat us- will never break His church- “Some Golden Daybreak, Jesus WILL come. Some Golden Daybreak, battles all won. He’ll shout The Victory, Break through the blue. Some Golden Daybreak… for me, for you.” “Nothing can separate us from the love of Christ.” NOTHING.
We’re working in the strong assurance of His promise. He’s blessing the work of our hands. Late last night, we ate dinner with old friends in Nairobi, Patrick, driver for our first two trips and his family. He asked about so many of you by name. He said he still has the picture of team 1, beside lake Nakuru, hanging in his home. He spoke of each member of team 2 by name. We laughed about building together in W. Pokot. He told me how much he misses Pastor Israel. How it’s one of his life’s dreams to visit Siempre. I thought about the fellowship we have in Christ: the fellowship that “goes to the end of the earth,” the fellowship that can never be broken, not even by death, I thought about each of you, about my mom and dad.
Our heritage, our fellowship and our future in Christ Jesus is a wealth we take for granted, until we go. He commanded us to “Go to the ends of the earth and make disciples.” I look forward to a wonderful homecoming, to seeing my family, to hanging out with mom and dad, to returning to the fellowship at Central Community… but I take heart there’ll be a greater homecoming…that someday our fellowship will be richer, deeper, eternal… in Heaven, our new home, together, with Him… some Golden Daybreak.
Until then,
Eric
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It’s true. I’m sitting out on the patio of our room- it’s incredible. One of the most amazing views I’ve ever had from a room. Our lodge is miles into the Maasai Mara- the jewel of Africa’s game preserves, almost 2,000 sq kilometers –and our room looks straight out onto the Mara itself. We took an evening game drive and saw three distinct prides of lions, well over 20 lions total, (March 1, “In like a lion…), 3 cheetah, giraffes, elephants and more exotic animals then I can remember. We would have stayed out all night but a rain squall chased us in. After a buffet dinner in the lodge, much too fancy for my simple tastes, we came back to the room and I came out here to write. It’s the kind of place Hemingway would write. So many wild sounds off the Mara in the night. A minute ago I called for Marty to come out and listen because a big cat was growling in the distance. You can leave Africa, but it doesn’t leave you. It might eat you alive… but it doesn’t leave you!
Our day started early, 4am for me. It was a packing day and our only showing of the Jesus Film was at Narok Junior Academy at 8am. The school master is a friend we made on our October trip and we’ve stayed in contact by email. It was good to see the kids again, visit their classes, then round them all up for the showing. A cool thing happened. Our driver, and friend, Alan, offered to show the film and give us a break. Marty spent the time loving the preschool kids: each of them amazed at his soft hair and bearded face, while I spent the time giving an informal “in-service” for the schools teachers. It started out with simple questions about our school system and curriculum and quickly turned to “How do you discipline a child?” “What are teachers in America using to motivate their kids?” And a laundry list of items only familiar or even vaguely interesting to those who teach, or like me, who use to teach in the public school system.
After an hour of discussion one of the teachers decided it would be a good thing to have a teacher exchange program with Riverside. What a great idea. Put some Kenyan teachers in our classes for a couple of weeks and some teachers from RUSD in their classrooms. I asked her to write up a proposal and promised to do all I could to see that it got into the right hands. Wouldn’t it be an incredible gift to our teachers and students in both communities? Stuff happens when you leave the office.
Marty just brought a flashlight out to the patio/veranda- a huge owl is sitting on the ground eyeballing us from the darkness. The flashlight also attracted bats- zooming in at my lap top- scaring me to death. Then a huge scarab beetle landed on my shoulder from out of the night. Getting a bit too wild out here for me!
Our drive in was over 3 hours on very rough, rained out dirt roads. We drive out in the morning, all the way to Nairobi- on Kenya’s worst road- famous for being bad, the Narok to Nairobi road. We need to be in Nairobi by 3pm- my first appointments at 4pm and I preach at 5pm. No clue what the setting is or how many people to expect. God’s taken care of us this far: no reason to start doubting Him now.
We’re both a bit on the ragged side, getting tired and ready to be home. Hopefully putting on a suit and tie tomorrow will help. I’m either coming down with a cold, sinus infection or malaria… or all 3, pray that I have voice, strength and His Power for preaching after the long drive. Now, more than ever, I believe in what God’s calling us to do in Kenya and the community He’s opening doors in. Narok and the Maasai have been amazing and God has done great things. Now it’s time to shift gears and head into the big city. God has a plan there as well. Pray that He uses our work.
Hippos just started grazing our way and making loud hippo noises, time to head in before one of them rushes the patio! Thanks for your love and support. Know that we’re thinking of home tonight… in this place so foreign to us, 12,000 miles from everything familiar. Wish you were here to enjoy this night of wonder, and maybe give a little protection!
Blessings,
Eric
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Our day began with a full schedule, so we ate a huge breakfast… well, the breakfast we’ve enjoyed every morning here at the Chambai Hotel in Narok: chai, ugi, eggs, toast and fruit. I’m going to miss that chai and ugi! Alan, our driver, arrived just as we finished…
Fell asleep writing this last night- must have been beat! Woke up, packed for the trek towards Nairobi, via Maasai Mara so Marty can see some animals this afternoon, and needing to head out.
Yesterday was a flex day. Rained as it can only rain in Kenya, even hailed and I didn’t even know it did that here at the equator! Cold and gray and since everyone walks to our medical clinics/Jesus Film showings, only 30 or 40 came to the clinic with even less to the meat packing house in the middle of nothing we were going to show the film in. Found out that the chief of the local village had scheduled us someplace else, several miles further in the interior, where he had the entire village waiting. Two women in complete traditional dress, the only way folks dress in the interior, had been sent to get us, walking in a downpour across muddy fields. So we loaded up and headed in. After a couple of miles of driving through a mud path that had become a small creek, we came across a pickup truck, sunk to its axels in the mud. And the going was getting worse. Our driver looked at me and said, “It’s your call.”
Easy call: we turned around and thanked God we were able to make it back out the way we came in. I think of all the times I’ve prayed for rain in Kenya through their drought. Everywhere I go people say the same thing: “It’s been raining ever since you came in October! You can stop praying now. You’ve brought the blessing.” I know I’m ready to see the end of the rain and mud.
Since we were leaving our day time schedule several hours early, we went to the school we were to visit and crashed their school day- kid’s were thankful, not sure about the teachers. A room of three or four hundred packed in for a discussion of The Chronicles of Narnia, then the film, then a follow up discussion. Afterwards, some kids wanted to pray and share their hopes and dreams. You can’t even imagine how much the image of that great lion, who represents Christ, impacts these people. The lion is Kenya’s national animal and they take great pride in them. It’s as if God speaks directly to them through the rescue, death, resurrection and victory. I’m so thankful we thought to bring this film. It’s been a tool for The Lord.
Marty and I got back in around 8pm, grabbed something to eat and crashed… Marty’s taken his vacation to serve God and he’s giving himself 100% every day. It’s fun to watch him fall in love with Kenya and her people. What a blessing to serve with people willing to serve without thinking of themselves.
Yesterday evening, when the movie and discussion ended, I led several hundred students in a song… yikes! We sang the first song I learned in Kenya: “Winner, eehh, Winner. Jesus You are The Winner!” The room resonated with joy and the sound of a victorious people in Christ Jesus. The hopes and dreams of these children, growing up in such extreme poverty, are deserving of our full service. I’m humbled that they’ve welcomed and embraced us into their community. Central Community is being lifted up in villages that are so remote I could never find them without a guide. Central Community is also being lifted up by those seeking a deeper walk with Him and are reaching out to be educated at the Maasai Education Discovery center. Here in the heart of Kenya, people are listening to our services online. God is too good.
Our journey home begins today. We’re showing The Jesus Film this morning, then taking an afternoon safari, then the long drive to Nairobi, where the crusade begins tomorrow night. Pray for God’s leadership, our health, safety and strength for the days to come. Look forward to being home.
Much love,
Eric
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I’m sitting alone in the little restaurant beneath our hotel. Several people are still dining. I’m having a cup of tea and trying to get my thoughts around this amazing day. So many open doors: God is good beyond measure.
We got in just minutes ago from showing “The Chronicles of Narnia” a Disney adaptation of the C.S. Lewis children’s novel, a parable of The Life of Christ and His Kingdom. A government boarding school for girls, with Christian leaders, had invited us to come and share this evening. We arrived to an empty hall and after a very full day I thought we might get an easy evening… not even close. Within minutes the hall was filled with over 500 girls, all in uniform, and anxious for a movie.
After the team set up our gear, I explained that the movie was an allegory, a metaphor, of a very real story they were all very familiar with. After watching the film, we’d have a discussion and I’d ask some questions. But first we opened with a three minute video review I’d put together of our day in the villages. It played to a very cool version of the old gospel song, “I’ll Fly Away.” The girls laughed and clapped at the village scenes of children and their parents, over 200 in the little community, gathered to watch the Jesus Film. Sitting in the first row, I noticed that the girls around me were singing the song in perfect harmony. It was just a little touch of Heaven. Then the movie started- what a riot!
Our day in the remote Maasai village had been a total success. The village is located near a prayer spot for the Maasai “god.” It’s a place where elders and warriors gather in a cave to pray and gain strength. On the dirt path coming in, our driver had to forge huge puddles and drive around elephant droppings you’d really not want to step in. Impala, gazelle and zebra were commonplace. We were miles from nowhere.
Taking all this into consideration, I did my best to be “culturally sensitive” as I invited people to surrender their hearts to Christ at the end of the film. I’m never quite sure how my words translate into Maasai, so it’s always in His Hands regardless of my words. But after I prayed with those who were obviously looking for change, the Kenyan headmaster came forward and said: “We need a strong altar call! I know God wants to do something great in the hearts of these people!” I laughed to myself, thinking, to preach in a public school, I have to come half way round the world, drive miles into the middle of the wild, and then be challenged by the headmaster for not being tough enough on the crowd of students and parents. Praise God for His dedication. I spoke again, then surrendered it to God. It’s His work.
The staff graciously invited us to return, as in every community we’ve visited and worked, the people treated us like family that they’d like to see again. It’s a wonder.
We’d worked through lunch. I made it back to the hotel by 4pm, put together the video, grabbed a bite to eat with Marty, then headed out for our evening work. If you haven’t seen “The Chronicles of Narnia,” buy it and watch it. Watch the wolves jump out of the snow and the beavers talk and then imagine how a crowd of 500 girls in Kenya, who’d never seen such a thing, would react. Julia reached me by phone during the movie and we laughed together as she heard the girls squealing and crying out from 12,000 miles away. Then a text message came on my phone- when were we going to be showing the Jesus Film at…
Everyone knows we’re here. People are being so generous. It feels like we could stay another year and barely scratch the surface of all that needs to be done. Pray that God gives me wisdom as I say “yes” and “no” according to our schedule and what we can physically hold up under. We’re beat. It’s well after eleven here, we have a 15 hour day scheduled for tomorrow and I still need to be ready for the 3 day crusade in Nairobi on the weekend. God’s doing such great things. Thanks so much for lifting us up. I know He’s not only going to take us through it but that He’s also going to continue to save souls, lift up new leadership for His church in Kenya and spread the deepening sense of revival that’s alive in the hearts of those who follow Him.
We’re getting homesick. I’m getting homesick. What a baby. I miss you all. Miss my family. Miss my church family. Miss my routine. Blown away that God would allow my routine to be so completely turned upside down for Him at this point in my life; He still loves me enough to do all that’s necessary to keep me right side up for Him. May He receive all the praise, glory and honor both now and forever more.
I’m sleeping in tomorrow, maybe 6am, first call to prayer comes from the mosque across the street at 4:45am. These are my late night thoughts and update on today.
Blessings,
Eric
PS
If you hadn’t supported this work- 500 girls would not have had the opportunity to discuss Christ in the Chronicles tonight. Wish you could have shared the joy. Their teachers were not familiar with C.S. Lewis, in a high school. What a blessing to bring an old story in a brand new way. Look forward to you joining me in Kenya sometime.
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Another incredible day in Kenya doesn’t quite sum it up. Jesus commanded us to “go to the ends of the earth and preach the Gospel,” for a couple of kids from southern California, we were a lot closer to the “ends of the earth” today then ever before.
After a great morning at Maasai Education Discovery, meeting their leadership in Kenya and even those visiting from America, it was time to head out to the field. M.E.D. is run by a group of Maasai, with passionate hearts for their people. They work to expand the opportunities for education to any Kenyan, Maasai or not, in hopes of lifting up the entire community. In the last several years they’ve built their own 3 story office building that houses a community library, several open computer labs, office space for the staff and visiting lecturers as well as class rooms. They focus on computer training at their center and have become certified by CISCO Systems as a training center here in Kenya. CISCO has also donated generously with equipment and instruction.
Education in Kenya reaches well beyond computers. They also have rented a block of buildings where they’ll house as many as 100 girls at a time that they rescue from forced marriages. Female circumcision, followed by arranged marriages, for girls anywhere from the age of 9 to 12 years of age is common in the outer villages. It’s also against the law in Kenya. Lillian Seenoi, our hostess here in Narok, and her staff- along with security- go into the villages and rescue girls, usually on their wedding day, and bring them into town, giving them safe shelter, love, education and an opportunity to provide for themselves.
The disruption this causes in families is beyond our understanding. The marriages have usually been arranged by parents and in the case of the groom, a dowry has already been paid for the bride, that the grooms’ family will fight to get back when the bride is rescued. The disturbance touches the entire community. Lillian and the staff at M.E.D. are incredibly brave, but also passionate about restoring love in these broken families. Once a girl has settled in at their rescue center and has begun to find a bit of herself, they also take the first steps in the long road to reconciliation with the community.
Marty and I had the opportunity to visit the rescue center and meet with some of the girls at the end of our day Monday. They had been there for almost a year and seemed like teenagers from anyplace else on the planet. Dressed in cute clothes, MTV on the TV blaring loudly, they were dancing and laughing when we entered the room. After getting to know them for a bit, Marty wanted a couple of photos. As they quickly preened for the camera, it was hard not to think what their lives might have been like without rescue… and this is just one small part of what M.E.D. does. You can check them out at their web site at: www.maasaieducation.org.
Though not a specifically Christian organization, they’ve arranged our visits to the Maasai schools and villages this week to show the Jesus Film, without restriction and with their full endorsement. They’ve given us the opportunity to use their name to open doors into communities that would otherwise be closed to us, well, probably forever. Lillian, who we’ve come to know best, is a Godly woman and has taken the time out of her schedule to introduce us to village leaders, pastors and headmasters and has gladly laid her reputation on the line for us. God has used them to make a way and I look forward to working with them in the years to come.
Monday morning, Jimmy Luka, was waiting for us in the lobby of our hotel, hoping we’d come to his village, 75 kilometers out dirt roads, impossible to return on in the rain. For those following my blogs, you’ll remember that earlier Jimmy had emailed us promising a great celebration and gifts for us if we came to his village, I’d asked him to talk to Lillian… he didn’t. Now, we were expected elsewhere and had to say no to Jimmy, leaving him without a ride back the 75k he’d just come to get us and with bad news for the villagers in waiting. There is so much to do in Kenya- we’re busy every waking moment and don’t begin to scratch the surface. Pray for Jimmy and his village. I’ve promised we’d visit on our next trip… Lord willing.
Our schedule took us to a small village that just has allowed a Christian witness within the last year. The leaders are not believers, but they allowed a small wooden church to be built by a Maasai pastor and other believers in the village last year. After riding the miles of dirt trails, we found the spot, not what anyone would imagine, hardly recognizable from the rest of the bush, save a couple wooden frames of huts and the little simple church. Setting up to show the film, greeting villagers as they arrived, (our van is our best advertisement- it’s engine audible in the bush- and visible for miles to the keen eyes of those who live in the region- they come once we’ve parked), soon, the wonders of our projector, sound system and screen, were bringing the words of Jesus to the people, now in Maasai, our fourth language to show this trip.
The translator was wonderful as I introduced the film. I explained that though we came with technology foreign to them- it was not meant to separate us but to unite us in God’s love- and invited them to share His story with open hearts and open spirits. One side of the church was filled with students that had walked from a distant school for the event. The other with the village elders: mostly men, dressed just as Maasai warriors have dressed for millennia. As the film began to show, people leaned into the screen to catch every image, to hear every word. A rain storm, the kind with thunder and lightning that rattles your fillings, began about half way into the film. Because of the steel roof, we had to crank up the volume, praise God we bought the larger amplifier! Then the roof started leaking on our projector, Marty, hovered over it like a hen, keeping it dry, risking electrocution! I sat with the people, in the back of the room, praying we would have a way out as the rain fell not in inches but by the foot! AFRICA!
When it came to the crucifixion of Christ, it was storming in the movie, and the Heavens opened with even more fury on the little village. Thunder and lightning rattled the room, not from the film, but from The Hand of The Father as Christ cried out from the cross. To say that I had goose bumps, would be putting it mildly. The room was electric with the moment. Incredibly, for the resurrection, the clouds had mostly passed and as Christ was seen in all His Glory on the screen, the rain stopped, and His image radiated throughout the room. It was a moment made by The Hand of God and I pray I never forget it.
When I gave the invitation to receive Christ- gnarled hands of old men and the eager hands of young men- along with those of students, lifted towards Heaven. I gave counsel to them all: start coming to church, get to know your pastor, talk to Jesus- He knows and loves you for just exactly who you are. Inwardly, I felt woefully inadequate for the moment. Then and again this morning as I write, I reminded myself of a saying I use with Jackets for Jesus all the time: “God knows and God sees.” He didn’t miss one upraised hand or one heart that began to soften to His Son as He knocked. God knows and God sees and He sent Central Community to this little village I can’t even remember the name of. He’s too good.
Marty began to break down our gear. Alan, our driver, worked putting chains on our tires for the extreme mud and water we now had to somehow get through. Lillian, informed me that because of the storm we would never make our next visit and showing… all the while the pastor celebrated… he talked with the people, opened his community for us to return or to stay the night if we were not able to make it out… and prayed thanking God. Then he asked if we would pray for their elder- the lead man- who had refused to come and was living in open disobedience to God. Join me in prayer today. The heart of a leader can change the direction of so many.
Our schedule today is full. We begin with a medical clinic in villages and end late tonight at a High School here in Narok that’s invited us. Pray that God uses us. Pray for our strength and health. Pray that bridges continue to be built that we can cross for years to come. This community is rich in ways our community’s often overlook and we have much to learn and much to share as we work together.
Know that you’re in my heart and prayers today.
Eric
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Started yesterday with breakfast and a tour of KIST, Kima International School of Theology and the headquarters for the church of God in eastern Africa, it’s an amazing campus. They have a rich history that stretches back over 100 years. On the grounds is a little cemetery. Missionaries, leaders and their children have been buried on these grounds for decades. The sons of the Livingston’s, who were both born in Kenya when their parents were serving here over 40 years ago, were with a work camp this week. What a blessing to hear their stories and their impressions on returning as adults and putting their childhood in perspective. Both can’t wait to come back.
Their sister is buried in the little cemetery.
Their family made the ultimate sacrifice in The Lord’s service. It’s easy for our missionaries, serving so far from home, to feel forgotten… to BE forgotten. They deserve our loving prayers and support. Don, his wife and family, deserve our prayers. Their children are grown and in the states. They try to gather as a family at least once a year… wow… I miss my kids and I’ve not even been gone a week. Pray for those serving the Lord in distant outposts around the world. They’re some of the best the church has to offer.
Marty, my traveling companion, has been amazing. I watch him, on his first trip to Kenya, and I wonder how he’s taking things in. This morning, I’m writing in the darkness, while Marty tries to sleep in the little bed across the room in our very humble hotel. Just across the rocky, dirt lane the minaret of the largest building in Narok town, towers over us. Islamic calls to prayer have been going over the loudspeakers for over an hour. It’s all in Arabic. After the first one- there’s a long break, soon it’s easy to hear the people walking to the mosque below our open window. Within minutes it all starts up again over the loud speakers: directions, prayers, no clue. But I wonder how Marty takes it. Me on one side of the room pounding away on the lap top, some guy on the other side of the street crying out with all his heart, not an easy place to get a little rest… and Marty’s earned his sleep.
Marty and Alan, our driver, make an incredible team. After each showing of the film, they evaluate their plugs, electrical inverters, set up times, and work on making it better. Each day, somewhere along the drive, Alan’s found some electronics store to buy wire, converters, plugs, you name it- all to bring the Gospel more clearly to the people who humble us with their willingness to wait for our arrival. Everything, our projector, sound system, dvd player, music, etc… runs off the car battery, into a little $49- inverter purchased at Harbor Freight, in Riverside. Each time they set it up, I’m amazed it works. Each time they haul out all the heavy gear and set up the HUGE movie screen, I realize how next to impossible this would have been to do without Marty. Friends all these years, now serving together in Kenya, God is too good.
It rained as we crossed Kenya on our way to Narok. Pulling into the little town from the south, Alan’s home town, he pointed out the Serengeti Plains and Maasai Mara. It’s a beautiful region of the world. We came first to our little hotel to drop off things in the room, the same room we were in last October. To call the Chambai Hotel a humble spot is being gracious. But the people are warm, they remembered me, and it was good to share a cup of tea with my friend Joseph, who runs the kitchen. At first glance, I think Marty was a bit shaken at Narok and our hotel, but like me, I know he’s glad to be done with all the driving for awhile.
Once we settled in, we drove in a fierce rain/wind storm out to the soccer fields and little stadium where we were scheduled for our first showing of the Jesus Film. Our hopes were not high. Who would come out in this driving rain? How could we set up our gear? How would WE make it? Pulling off the main road, from the back of the stadium we were amazed to see full bleachers. Over two hundred street children, orphans and homeless adults waited patiently and greeted us as if the weather was perfect and it was Carnegie Hall.
Marty and Alan got right to work, as I moved through the crowd, greeting children and introducing the film. There was a covering and we were able to put up our gear out of the rain. Huge rocks acted as anchors for the base of the screen, wanting to sail away in the wind. When music jumped out of the sound system, then images of Jesus, speaking Swahili onto the screen, the crowd was transfixed. Eyes and ears of kids who refuse or are unable to sit in a classroom stayed focused on the story of Jesus for over two hours. God was doing what only He can do… and He was letting us share the miracle… it was a wonder.
Peter, the young man in charge of the street kid’s soccer league who helped me arrange the showing via email, squeezed in next to me during the film. I’ve seen it numerous times, in a number of languages, but his words still moved me. Sitting almost in my lap, Kenyans have a different kind of personal space then most Americans, he whispered: “I just love these teachings.” God was doing good things.
With the Pokot, I thought, how cool these people are hearing Jesus in their own language… then it occurred to me how arrogant that thought was: every person, in every language is certain God speaks THEIR language. His languages. His children. Our Father.
When the film was done, as we began to wrap up our work and kids headed back out into the rain, to sleep only God knows where, Peter pulled at me and said: “Can you show it again?” I said, “Now? Here?” I was beat, couldn’t imagine going another minute. The sun was down, it was raining. Peter said, “Not here. I have two or three hundred people waiting across town for a 6:30 or 7pm showing. Is that ok?” I was stunned. Looking at the weather, I asked if it was a covered or indoor setting? No, they’d been waiting in the rain. Waiting to hear the Good News of Christ Jesus, needless to say, I was not prepared. Our gear won’t work in the rain.
Marty and Alan still looked game. I’m afraid I must have been the weak link. Alan and Peter began to speak in Swahili. I think Alan must have pointed at me and said something like: “Hey, I’ve got to keep this old guy going all week! Let’s not kill him on the first day.” Or maybe he pointed out that it was raining and impossible. Either way, we drove Peter and his friend close to the location to notify the crowd with the promise that we’d try to fit them in tonight and to apologize for us.
The day ended with dinner and tea. Sleep came easy. It’s Monday morning, and our full schedule in the rural Maasai villages begins. God’s been doing great things. Keep us in your prayers. Keep these people in your prayers. Pray that God moves in mighty ways. That He brings incredible revival. That bridges are built that last a life time. And that we stay strong for the very full schedule ahead. We want to be all that God wants us to be. We want to be faithful to the love and trust you’ve placed in us. Know that you’re in our prayers today.
Siempre,
Eric
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After a rich breakfast of ugi, a traditional Kenyan breakfast, sort of like cream of rice, this was made with sorghum, incredible chai and lively conversation, we said goodbye to Hadat, our hostess and hit the road. The road from W. Pokot can be a challenging pass, but we made it with just one flat tire, the second of the trip, and many incredible lessons. God is Great. On arrival in Kitale, we met up with another driver, Patrick, the driver for Central Community’s first two trips and a good friend. After catching up, we headed to Deliverance Church to pay greetings to the pastor’s wife, Margaret, as well as the team from Saddleback and their leader, Steve Rutenbar.
Many of you know what it’s like to join them for washing and feeding the street children. It looked much the same, a large crowd of desperate kids and a great group of humble servants helping out. What a blessing. After an opportunity for Marty to see it all, and to use the churches internet connection, we headed out towards Kima… the mysterious village we’ve not been able to locate in our last 3 trips and headquarters for the church of God school of theology in Kenya. No problems this time. It’s a drive. Not exactly on the way. But to see the wealth of work that’s taken place training up pastors for over 100 years on these wonderful grounds was well worth the wait.
The buildings and grounds look like they could be anywhere in the mid-west. A rich garden and lawns surrounds each building and everything in wonderful condition. Don Smith and his wife greeted us warmly, introduced us to John Walters and the visiting work group from across the US serving with the church of God’s radio program, CBH – Christian’s Broadcasting Hope. After a plate of spaghetti and some peach cobbler, we were off to our work- not more than 30 minutes after we arrived. This trip has been go, go, go.
Marty and Allen set up our equipment and soon the room was filled with seminary students and their families to view “Chronicles of Narnia.” Don introduced the movie as an allegory to a very familiar story and asked them to think as they enjoyed it. The response was overwhelming, everything worked perfectly, you would have thought you were in a movie theater, and the students jumped and yelled at the scary parts and sat in humble silence as their hearts were touched. Speaking with a group of them who stayed, asking for “More!” “More!” I asked questions about the movie, “Who does the lion represent?” quickly “Jesus! The Lion of Judah.” “And the children?” “They’re us!” “And the battle?” “It’s our battle every day!”
Writing even now I’m moved to tears at this incredible opportunity. Literally, sitting here in the early morning dark, crying and typing. Thanks so much for loving and supporting this work. It will be remembered for years to come and the stories be told among many families and churches. Praise God for this outpost of hope in Kima and their warm welcome.
Students wanted more… but physically, we had nothing left to give. Keep us in your prayers. We covered so much of Kenya by road yesterday, stopped and ministered in more places than I remember, even our driver Alan’s in-laws, wonderfully gracious people who would have kept us for hours. That when the film was done, well past 10pm Kenyan time, we were so very done, the beds in the bunk house welcomed us and I doubt that one of us even rolled over during the night. But as darkness turns to dawn, the birds of the region are singing beautifully, cows mooing in the distance and the sounds of the village waking up our rousing my sleeping companions.
I’m reminded that this, again, is a travel day. We’ve been traveling every day since Tuesday morning when we left. Today we go to Narok, where we’ll be based until Friday morning, the same bed for 5 nights, Praise God! We’ve been told that the road has become treacherous. We’re taking an early start because we have a 4pm appointment to show the Jesus Film, in Maasai to the orphans and street children of the region. Monday we begin our work in the villages, Friday morning, we head back to Nairobi for the crusade. Pray that God uses the work of our hands to meet the needs of the people, that great revival breaks out like a wonderful rain wherever we go, that everyone comes to know and grow in Christ and that God receives all The Glory. We’re moving like simple evangelist, trusting God each step of the way, He’s our Senior Pastor and we’ve been blessed beyond measure to serve Him.
If I had one regret about this Sunday morning, it would be that I’m not in worship somewhere. We lead church tonight, but I’m so used to gathering together on Sunday morning. Matt and the Praise Team, know that my hearts with you. Ken, I’m praying that God blesses you as you preach. John, you Bobby and the kids have been in my heart with your planned famine. If you could have been with us in W. Pokot and seen the very unplanned famine that’s striking families the entire church would have joined your fast. Julia, my prayers surround you this morning sweetheart. I gathered with a Sabbaot pastor Friday morning and we prayed for you and Jann specifically. Debi, I love and miss you. Each new thing I see, I wish you were here to share it with me. You’ll enjoy Kima.
I could write like this for hours… so many of you our on my heart, in my spirit this morning, by name, in love. Thanks so much for loving and praying for us.
Siempre,
Eric
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I woke up not long ago in complete darkness. I opened my eyes several times to make sure I was awake, only to remember that I was sleeping in a thatched hut along the river not far from Runo in West Pokot. Here, as far from home as I’ve ever been, without a light in the darkness, one is lost. The proverbial “Can’t see your hand in front of your face,” doesn’t do this kind of dark night justice. Hand over the side of the cot, I groped for my watch, that I’d rested on the ground the night before. The words of the only other guest in this remote village stuck with me: at dinner, he’d pointed towards our hut and said “Be careful when you put your feet down in that one. I was staying in it and had to kill two scorpions. Just lucky I hadn’t stepped on them in the dark.” Wishing I’d put my watch under the pillow. Wishing I’d laid down with shoes on. I gently touched the ground, wondering how badly I needed to know what time it was?
A kerosene lantern had been left just outside the hut for us the night before, but a wind storm is howling; powerful wind, shaking the trees to their roots, the noises of the African night, far from silenced, but instead amplified and added to, as things fall over, like our lantern, roll around the ground and find new life in the wind. The crickets continue as if the air were still as an August night at home. It’s summer in Kenya. We’re in a desert community just miles from the equator, and it’s hot, even in the hut, in the night, in the wind… it’s hot. Marty’s sleeping through it all. He’s the man!
I should have taken my flashlight out on laying down, but I hadn’t, we were exhausted. The day had been so full. After the drive to Runo, where children and staff of the little school quickly surrounded us in greetings, Marty and Alan went straight away to setting up for the Jesus Film. Warriors and women, men from the fields and children from the classroom quickly made up a crowd of more than 200, just to see what was happening. They leaned against the walls and peered through almost completed windows into a room packed with people… in the building Central Community began last year. I could have wept tears of joy.
Unable to find my watch, I reached out for my suitcase, it wasn’t there! I wondered in fear how someone could have made it in this darkness, without waking us, and stole away with it. Then a simple thought occurred to me: perhaps I’m searching the wrong side of the bed? Rolling right to left in the little cot, I quickly found my watch and bag, right where I’d left them. Digging through my backpack for my laptop, I set it up blindly, to begin to write. The screen quickly filled the room with light and attracted enough bugs from the darkness to fill a bug museum. I’m sure some university professor would love to examine the dozens of species crawling on my screen even now as I write. Rural Africa’s not for everyone!
Our large screen, the sound system, projector and electric inverter running off the van battery all brought the wonders of civilization to a people who’d never seen a movie. Sadly, it was a cloudless summer day and the image was never as bright as it could have been and just as Jesus was to be crucified, our audience locked in awe to the screen, to the miracle of every word out of Jesus mouth not only being in their own language, but their own dialect, the sun overheated our projector, the lamp, through a safety mechanism automatically shut down, (it only happens when projecting in temps above 104 degrees. It was HOT.) and the show was over. Apologizing as best we could, doing all we could to make amends; handing out candy to the kids, a new soccer ball, that lasted all of 30 minutes among the acacia bushes, to the older boys, we packed up and left.
Far from being unhappy the people waved goodbye to these strangers from a strange land and this unexpected bit of excitement in their other wise unchanging afternoon routines, unchanged for some in centuries, and we began the dusty drive to our nighttime camp on the river, evaluating how we’d done, what we’d learned and how we can do this better in our next showing, Lord Willing, tonight at a church of God seminary, not nearly as removed from the world, in Kima.
Watching the faces as they heard Jesus tell The Stories, watched Him heal the sick and open the eyes of the blind, call his disciples and challenge the religious and Roman authorities, all in Pokot, was a gift too precious for price. When I spoke to the people, I told them that Jesus loves them for who they are, for being Pokot, that He knows and hears their prayers in Pokot. That He speaks their language. And they heard it for themselves. What a gift. I wish each of you could have been there.
I especially wish each of the builders from last February’s Kenya team could have experienced the joy I felt as I watched people share The Good News in the building we were privileged to begin. It’s now been hit by two storms. The people have painstakingly straightened and reset our steel and blocks. The floor is complete and the walls close to half done. Pastor John and Monica’s church is already meeting in the building weekly. Samuel, headmaster of the school, already has three classrooms in the building each day. Desks have even been built and donated by a group from England that came and worked. God is using the work of our hands, the prayers of many are being answered and most importantly, the needs of a remote village, hungering and thirsting for God, for an education, for something better for their children, are being met. God is too good. Thanks is not nearly big enough a word.
The need is always greater. Samuel told the heart break of hunger in the community. Told how the money we left for food in October has carried them through the hard summer. Without shame, begged for more to help these people. Monica, Pastor John’s wife, was walking in on the road as we left. She saw me in the van and began waving her arms and yelling, “Pastor! Pastor! Pastor!” We stopped and embraced. She is the founder of the school that now exceeds 450 in enrollment. It began with just her kids. Still just in her twenties, I asked where she’d been? Told her how much we’d missed her for the day. She said she’d been preaching in another village. Her husband John, the pastor of the little church, is no longer coming home weekends from his time at seminary. Things have been hard. She said, with tears in her eyes, I have no more food for my children. She looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks and here she was walking in, still miles from home, after preaching all day.
Thank God for her heart. It inspires me. We have it so easy. People ask why I continue to come to Africa. The sacrifice of fellow servants in Christ, women like Monica, should be enough. Pray for Monica. Pray for pastor’s wives around the world. They work hard to undergird the work of the church. Pray for my wife Debi at home. Without her unfailing love and support, I could have never made this trip. We gave her money for food. Later that evening, here in Mariche Pass, reported on her condition to friends who can and will follow up and help.
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The Things We Bring Home
Sitting in the dark of our hotel room after a fitful nights sleep, at 5am a dog started to bark in the distance. Thought about the things we bring home from the trips we take in life. The conversations, new friends, smells and tastes, the images plastered on our spirits- on our brains, the good and the bad, the dog barking in the distance. Each facet, every turning point, every new awakening writes itself indelibly across our being.
Sometimes we’re moved to such great depths we think to ourselves: “I’ll never forget this.” But we do. Soon, too soon too often, we’re on to our next adventure, our next experience, our next… and that which once seemed to touch us so deeply quickly slips into the well of our being… and we forget.
But the dog barking in the distance at 5am remains: our very listening, our awakening, is not buried even when we forget about it. Deep within, it becomes part of who we are. It’s one more moment in the sum total of our experiences, good and bad, great and small, that shape us and make us into all God intends us to become. It becomes one of the “things we bring home” in our missions for Him.
Today we drive to W. Pokot. We arrived to discover that the people we were depending on to make our arrangements into this harsh arena, had not. Well beyond the range of even Kenya’s cell phone service and a long drive from everything, they’re not easy plans to arrange. No hard feelings. Today we head into a familiar place, unexpected, and pray for God to again, make a way. We’re dependent on Him. It’s His Work.
Marty is trusting me. Each hard day of driving, every new and vivid moment in Africa, all the stuff he’ll bring home… for the first time, maybe what will be his only time: from the dog barking in the darkness to our $25- hotel room, will be the Africa that impacts him forever. I want to be faithful. Faithful to God and my family, faithful to all who’ve trusted me with this great work for The Kingdom, faithful to the people of Kenya- living in such great need, faithful to Marty, who said yes, having so little knowledge of what he was getting into.
Pray for me. Pray for Marty. Pray that God’s work is accomplished in great ways that honor Him. Today we take The Jesus Film to the little village of Runo. We’ll try, for the first time, to set up our projector, screen, sound system, power system and bring images of Jesus, speaking Pokot, into the little community where Central Community’s invested so much. Our morning started with a dog barking. No idea how the day will end. Know that I started it, here in the darkness, thinking of you.
Blessings,
Eric
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