Africa, Revisited - part 2

Patience

I was praying for a quick answer. The very next morning I opened my Kindle to continue my “read through the Bible in a year” project that I had going. I had stopped the day before right in the middle of a reading passage, in Psalms. I picked up where I left off and read “Psalm 37:7 Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for Him…” I sighed in resignation. Seriously, God? First verse of the day? I paged back to catch the entire passage. “Psalm 37:3-7 Trust in the LORD, and do good; Dwell in the land, and feed on His faithfulness. Delight yourself also in the LORD, And He shall give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the LORD, Trust also in Him, And He shall bring it to pass. He shall bring forth your righteousness as the light, And your justice as the noonday. Rest in the LORD, and wait patiently for Him…” I had two words running through my mind…It figures. It was God’s Holy Word and all, but maybe I should try a different source. I opened the Bible study I was working on, Experiencing God. The topic for that day dealt with knowing and doing the will of God. Perfect! I’ll get my answer here, for sure! And what do you know, right there on the second page in a series of bullet points of things that helped George Mueller know God’s will: He waited patiently on God until he had a word from God. Ok, ok—third time in 24 hours hearing “be patient”. I get the point, already!

Wednesday

The informational meeting for the August Africa team was the following Wednesday. As the weekend rolled and the work-week started, I was increasingly anxious. Am I supposed to go? I kept talking about the upcoming meeting in terms of “if”. As in “if” I was going to the meeting. Yeah, right. If. I seriously felt like I could throw up by Wednesday night. I didn’t want to go to the meeting and admit that this thing going on in me was a reality. But I knew if I didn’t go, I would be outright rejecting the call I had been feeling all week, and direct defiance has never really been my thing. What will people say? It will not be a secret that I just returned from a trip in March. Is this completely indulgent? Or just fanatical? On the outside, I had a smile and a brisk walk. On the inside, I was heading to the gallows.

Meeting

I was not the last one to enter a room full of questioning people, like I somewhat feared. I was one of the first. And the director of missions was outside in the hallway, alone. My appearance there was not puzzling to him, as we had been in contact since my trip in March, him advising me on how I could fit into our church’s mission program and be a helpful asset from right here in the States. After a moment of casual conversation, I revealed the main reason I was there. Instead of the reaction of surprise I had feared, carefully measured support came from his eyes. He’s heard and seen this before. Me wanting to go again isn’t a shock to him. I felt relief. Three different people walked by while I was standing there. All of them knew me, and guessed immediately why I was there. While there was some surprise, it was pleasant and supporting. One of them had been on the March trip with me. She hugged me tight out of encouragement and probably a bit of happy envy. She had brought another woman to the meeting, one I knew on a hello-type basis. This woman was nervous to be there. Wanting to go on the trip, but scared to death at the thought. Just like me in March. I walked into the room with her. I felt like I was right where I needed to be.

Malawi-Bound

So I have decided to go on the trip in August. I never received an audible word from God, or an airplane dream, or a verse that says “Go ye therefore to Africa in August”—but ever since the meeting I have felt a peace. I think God wants me to learn and practice patience. I think He wants me to learn how to be quiet and listen. I think He wants me to bow to my own agenda and take on His. And I think he wants me in Malawi in August. Why me? I don’t know—maybe because I’m willing. But every time I voice the question Why Beth? the words of a friend keeping coming back to me. Why not Beth?

Africa, Revisited - part 1

Back to Africa?

I felt the call to go again on Wednesday morning, May 12th. There was nothing special about that day, and no particular reason to be thinking especially about Africa. But the thought entered Hey, what about the August trip? and for some reason the thought lodged, like a piece of dry powdered donut that just won’t swallow right. My usual inclination is to dismiss thoughts that don’t jive with Beth’s Preconceived Order of Things, but for some reason I decided to give this one my ear, if only for a moment. I made a deal with myself, and God, if He was indeed the one daring to suggest I do things somebody else’s way other than my own. I will try this idea on, like a new winter coat. I’ll wear it around for an hour or two this morning and see how it feels. And then I will most likely shuck it off and hang it in the closet where it belongs until it is what I deem the proper time to wear it. And I think at that point that maybe I heard God laugh.

Arguments

Over the course of that day, I started to sweat underneath that layer of the Africa coat. Part of me really wanted to keep it on, and part of me really wanted to rip it off. The timing is all wrong! It is too soon! But too soon for what? Sooner than I had imagined, sure. Sooner than many people would think it was prudent to return, certainly. But not too soon for the people in Malawi. Not too soon for all of those people desperate for someone willing to come and share with them what it means to live a Christian life. The kids will be in school…just go look at the calendar! Yup, school would already be in session. But wait, that simply means that 3 out of 4 of my children are already being cared for from 8:00-3:00 every day. Doesn’t that actually work in my favor? And hrm, what is this? The realization that most of their busy calendar activities don’t start until after Labor Day. The reality upon looking that my calendar is very blank those two weeks. Money! You don’t have enough saved up yet! No, but I did have a decent start. And I could use my church’s fundraising program, sending out letters for additional sponsorship. And what an excellent excuse to share with even more people about my trip, regardless if they felt led to contribute financially or not! There was the distinct sound of a zipper. I had the sinking feeling that this coat wasn’t coming off any time soon.

Busted!

I’m going to have to tell this. There’s nothing like knowing a secret you will be forced to spill eventually. Everywhere I looked I wondered What will he think? Is she going to have a cow? Maybe I can just change my mind and forget I’m even thinking about this. But then I thought about Jonah and knew I wasn’t interested in seeing God’s version of my whale. I saw one of my prayer partners that night at church. She mentioned Africa, and the upcoming trip in August. I’m no poker player, obviously, because she peered at my face and said You’re going back, aren’t you? I admitted I was considering it, and asked her to pray for me, because whether I ended up going or not in the end, I was going to have to go home and tell my secret. She beamed at me and I felt a moment of relief.

Revelation

I’m going to be sick. Am I crazy? Am I just so excited about my March trip that I’m getting ahead of myself? Or am I just inflating my ego by projecting some made-up self-importance that leads me to want to go back again so soon to prove that I’m somehow needed? Or is God truly calling me to go back in August? I put it off as long as possible, which is standard for me. It was after lights-out, which is also typical. That way I can hide in the darkness. I won’t have to see whatever it is I will see on my husband’s face when I tell. Of course he knew something was wrong. He always does. Sometimes he pushes me, with varying levels of success, and sometimes he doesn’t. I love it and hate it when he pushes. Tonight he didn’t have to push. It all just came spewing out, in a cryptic and tangled rush. But I eventually got to the bottom line. I’m not for sure but I think I need to go back to Africa with the August team. And his ultimate answer? Pray about it. Be patient and not anxious as you wait for an answer. But if God is calling you to go again, you go. We will work out the details here at home. I make up a lot of trivial things to be disappointed about along the way, but it’s times like these that I don’t question why I love this man. Sometimes he knows just the right thing to say.

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 7

Day 5

Wednesday morning I woke up so tired. Which is funny, because of course my devotional was titled “Getting Tired?” and my daily verse was a prayer for endurance. “Everyone is expecting today to be mighty. We are leaving earlier and staying later. We finally all know what to do. But, oh, we are tired!”

We went to a different village area today…one we had to drive to. We met the chief there, and besides going out in our normal groups with our normal translators, we were also paired with a local church member from this new area, to go out with us and take our teams in different directions. (Our church went to this village area last year, and planted a church…so these local members were from that planted church…there to lead us around but also to take the names of the new converts from the day, so they could follow up with them and try to get them to attend church in the future). So Rodney and I, and Giles and our leader walked a long way to get to the area we were supposed to canvas. Along the way, Rodney ministered to several groups and had 5 salvations. As we walked along the road, a man named Macford stopped us at his house. While we waited for him to find us a mat to sit on, two women walked by on their way to cut pumpkins (the older one, Filine, had a huge machete in her head covering…the younger one, Juliet, was her daughter). They spoke with the translator to see what we were up to, nodded and walked on a bit, then turned back around and came to sit. I was pretty excited about that, as it meant they were willing to put aside their work to hear what we had to say. Then three adolescent boys came down the path (Timothy, Dennis and Chikondi, which means Love), and I waved them in with promise of “a story”. While we waited, Filine continued to speak with the translator. Giles told me that she said she wished she knew English…so she could sit down and just talk with me! She had such a direct and outgoing but yet friendly, manner…that I immediately took a liking to her and saw her as someone that God could potentially use greatly in this village. When all 6 were finally seated, I used the Evangecube and took my time telling the story. I wanted to be very sure they all understood what I was saying and what it all meant. At the end, I asked if any of them had heard this before, and if any of them had ever accepted Jesus and prayed the sinner’s prayer before. One thing that is tricky in Malawi, is making sure the people understand that salvation is a one-time thing. They love to sit through the story over and over, even if they are already Christians. So if you are not careful, you will sit there and “convert” people that have already been through this before, but because of the language barrier, and their limited post-salvation discipleship, you don’t realize and they don’t understand. Anyway, my 6 all said they had never done this before, but they all wanted to. So I sat there in emotional awe, as I led my first 6 people ever, in the sinner’s prayer to become Christ followers. We took pictures together afterwards, and when I showed them in my camera, Filine squawked and jerked her head covering off and started re-wrapping it. This cracked me up…just like an American, worried about what she looked like in the picture! We laughed and hugged and took another picture before parting ways. It was an amazing and awesome day for me. God had already done so much, that although in the back of my mind, I knew that I wanted to lead someone to Christ… I had told God that I was perfectly fine with that not happening on THIS trip. I had seen so much personal victory, I wasn’t going to be pushy, you know? And then God allows me this honor. I wrote later in my journal…”It was an amazing experience, and a perfect ending for the trip…except God is more amazing than I could plan for, and He had more in store.” Doesn’t He always? Just when you think it can’t get any better…

We met several more groups of believers before we left to head back to the group for lunch. After lunch, we led more discipleship…this time we had a more diverse turnout and so split up the adult men and women. This group of women was very engaging, and I had a great time talking with them about how we are to love God and others, pray without worry, read God’s word, meet with other believers, and share with the unsaved. I leaned heavily on them about how God looked to the believers of the group to reach out and share with their fellow Malawians, and not to simply depend on us Americans that come for one week every 6 months.

After the discipleship time, all of the groups, adults and kids, chief and local church members, our team and our translators…came together for a time of worship and preaching. I had been asked to give my testimony in front of this large group. I grabbed Giles (even though he was Rodney’s translator, I felt very close to him and knew how he felt about me) and together we let that group have it. I had my notes with me this time, but I didn’t use them much until I got to the Roman’s Road verses. “God was all over me—I had no nerves and never stammered around. Being up there, entreating the people, felt as natural as breathing. I was sad to sit down. This trip has been so amazing.” And there isn’t much more to say about it beyond that! After the service, we drove back to Esther’s House for a final farewell. “Everyone was crying, but for perhaps the first day here, I had no tears. I am not sad at all to be leaving. I am only anxious to get home so I can figure out when I can come back.”

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 6

Day 4

My complete journal entry from Tuesday, 6:00 am, Malawi:

“God woke me up again sometime before 5:00. The manner was different this time—I was not worried or agitated. But I feel—passion, urgency and burden. I feel more alive here. I have passion inside me, trapped. It comes out when I teach. I love music, but I feel no call to go teach it. But teaching others discipleship, how to live for God, and how to lead others—now THAT gives me huge passion. What does this mean? What am I to do? God is silent—yet not. I have no booming answer. But here is what I have today—Matthew 25:14-30. A parable, one I read in preparation for this trip, in fact. I understood it on some level at that time, but reading it this morning made me cry. I don’t want to be the lazy evil slave with 1 talent, who buries it—who not only doesn’t use it, but doesn’t even share it with others so they can use it. And I am. And I am convicted. God help me know what to do and how to serve. My mind is rampant with musings and meditation. Show me, God.”

Tuesday was a logistical day for me, and after all the emotion from the two days prior, and all the burden still fresh from the morning, that was probably a good thing. Rodney and I stayed behind at Esther’s House while the others went into the village, and we cleaned and organized the supply closet there at Esther’s House (LOTS of stuff just sitting in there right now because it was all just jumbled and thrown in there—hopefully, now those things will get given away and put to good use) and also we helped price and organize the souvenirs for our team. Instead of our team going into the city somewhere and shopping for overpriced trinkets, a vendor came to Esther’s House with goods. A reasonable price was reached for each item, and the vendor left his things with us for the afternoon. We then re-priced all of the items, with the small mark-up going as proceeds to Esther’s House. When the team came in for lunch, everyone shopped and bought what they wanted, at a cheaper price then we would have gotten otherwise, but still with a profit margin to donate to the orphanage (everybody wins!). We then counted all of the money, separated the Esther’s House cut from the vendor’s proceeds, and tallied all of the items left to make sure everything added up. So that was a different, but very full and busy day for me.

The up?-side to that was that Rodney and I were not available to handle the afternoon adult discipleship, so we passed that torch onto a husband/wife couple on the team. Now this was unexpected, and they were not prepared. The session, while personally burdensome, had been such a high the day before…when we were able to “break through” and find out what the widows really needed to hear and unload on them…that I was so excited for this couple, about what they were fixing to get to experience. They did not necessarily see it in the same light. (Completely understandable…had it been reversed, I would have been freaking out!) I gave them several ideas, told them about the day before, and assured them it was going to be SO AWESOME for them. Long story short, later that night, they said they had NOT been happy at ALL about being thrust into that, but that they were SO glad in the end, because it was an AMAZING and POWERFUL time. And while I missed not going out that morning and teaching that afternoon, I was so glad to be able to have shared that experience with them, by my absence! (I am constantly amazed…God really does know what He’s doing…WHO KNEW??)

My journal entry for the day ends somewhat frustrated. Rodney’s translator pulled me aside and talked with me today. He said he sees a passion for missions in me. I laughed and wondered what he had thought of me initially, on Saturday? He agreed that he didn’t think much of me on that day. I laughed again and agreed. I told him God had called me to a meeting Saturday night, and since then, things had been different. He was very serious when he asked me my commitment level to missions and told me that he was praying for me. He agreed strongly with me that the people of Malawi need discipleship. They need to be taught how to grow in the Lord. Am I one to help do that? I don’t know, but I am humbled and awed that this man would seek me out and encourage me and pray for me…and see something in me that I have a hard time seeing in myself. Which all leads to the frustration. I was not equipped enough before coming on this trip. (I’m just thankful God was gracious enough to give me a middle-of-the-night holy crash course). The new Malawi converts are not equipped at all. There are time, money and logistical mountains in the way. And the vision for people to see the need…the need beyond conversion numbers…the need for true feeding. The need for “Pauls”…strong Christians to come in, set up a Christian hub, get it going, and then move on, encouraging along the way.

“I am eager to help, but how?...There are so many hurdles and barriers to work through…I feel so much passion in this, but what does God want me to do???”

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 5

Day 3, afternoon

The afternoon disciple sessions were designed for whoever we invited during the morning to come to. Our team had split into Adult, Teen and Children teams, and we had made “lesson plans” accordingly, in advance. Well, as things are always changing on the mission field…our Adult group of three got whittled down to two (me and Rodney) and the Teens and Children groups combined to accommodate all of the children projected to attend (they invited the entire elementary school that morning). So there stand Rodney and I, neither of us the “leader” of the Adult discipleship team, with our pre-made lesson plans that covered several of the parables of Jesus. We only had 17 adults show up that day, and all but one of them the very same widow women from the day before. So I vamped. Since I already knew all of these women were Christians, I started with the back of the Evangecube, and my standard Discipleship talk. When I finished, the only response I got was for one of them to say they already knew all of that. Well I was taken aback and at a momentary loss. Rodney stepped in and shared some things that had come to him while I was talking, then he went into the parable of Christian Light, which related to what we were already talking about, plus was on our “lesson plan” for that day. I followed up with the relative parable of the Sower and the Seeds. The lessons we were giving were good, but there just seemed to be little interest. Only a fraction of our time had passed, and we were both feeling very intimidated and uneasy. So we turned to the interpreters, and I asked them to find out what the women were thinking, and what they wanted to hear. The interpreters intervened for us and spoke with the women. After a time, here is what we discovered: the women felt that because they were old, could not travel, and had limited social circles, they had no use in God’s plan and could not share with others. Uh, oh…here we go. The spark flamed and my passion ignited. Once I knew what to talk about, the words poured out again. Between Rodney and I, and our two translators, we ministered like crazy to those women. I was jumping around, pacing, frantic to make my points heard and understood. I implored those women to understand as elder Christians, just how useful they were. That their joy ministered to me. That I had to travel all the way to Malawi to be brave enough to share the Gospel. But that I was only there for a short time…and could only reach so many people. But their job is to constantly minister in their circles…and to disciple the people in THEIR circles to minister to the people in THEIR circles…and on and on…and THAT is how God would explode in Malawi…not because of the few of us who came over for short times on mission trips.

I was so emotionally spent and completely burdened by the time that session was over…that I could barely trudge back to Esther’s House. In our afternoon share time (the 12 of us Americans plus the 12 interpreters/pastors), I felt like the head Malawian pastor was boring holes into me with his eyes. (We had never spoken before, and he had never been around me). So I shared just a bit of the burden I was feeling. He was silent for a bit (that’s the normal Malawi way…you way something and it feels like you are being ignored for sometimes a full minute…but they are really just processing) and then he asked…”What can we do?” I felt so humbled and awed. HE was asking ME advice on how to help his people. While the answer didn’t spit itself out on the spot, it didn’t take long for the answer to coalesce as a clear vision in my mind. The people of Malawi desperately need discipleship. True, honest and steady discipleship. Meetings in their own villages, in their own settings, led by their own people. God’s word coming to life to address their daily needs. Prayer time. Share time. Grow time. But how to make that happen???

My first and last journal sentences for this day are as follows: “More emotions today...” And “My heart is so burdened!”

Africa Journal - March 2010 part 2

Day 1

Saturday morning we gathered at Esther’s House, met our translators, and were sent out into the nearby village to start meeting people and inviting them to church the following day. “It was nerve-wracking at first, trying to make conversation (with the interpreters) and trying to understand each other. My first experience in the village was horrible…the people were very reserved and I didn’t know what to say.”
My interpreter was Evelyn, wife to Joseph, one of the guys on staff at Esther’s House. She has a young boy named Zach (after Zach Kennedy) that she carried around with us on her back. I paired up with another teammate, Rodney, and his interpreter Jailosi (Giles). Both of us mainly just stumbled around together that first day, taking the lame tactic of saying…”We’re, um, from the United States…and we’ve, um, come to invite you to church at Esther’s House, and um, do you have any questions about Jesus? No? Oh, ok, um, good. Well, we hope to see you tomorrow…” Need I say more?

When we got back to Esther’s House to reconvene at the end, I was horrified to hear of others that had many conversions that day and had shared Jesus with their Evangecube and the Roman’s Road. We were sent out with very little direction that morning, and it didn’t even occur to me to witness. I was struggling to simply make conversation. I felt more inept than ever. I tucked myself into a single window seat on the bus that afternoon, and cried all the way back to the house. I dreaded the next day, Sunday, when I would have to lead a discipleship time for the 50 non-residential widows that our church cares for through Esther’s House, and I dreaded even more having to go back out into the villages on Monday after that.

That night there was much logistical work to do: sorting clothes, preparing gift bags for the widows and orphans, preparing toothbrushes and fluoride for the hygiene session, etc. We were all exhausted and tensions were high. There were differing opinions on what we should do and how we should do it. Because I was head of logistics, I was forced to make unpopular calls, and because I was exhausted and feeling the lowest of lows about myself, I am quite certain that my leadership efforts, while given with the best of intentions, did not come across as…nicely and diplomatic…as perhaps they should have. As a result, there were tensions between myself and a fellow team member, and a confrontation followed later that night which left me in tears and more certain of anything that I did not belong on this trip (even as I was certain that God wanted me there). So, ok, I was organizing things. I was cooking supper for the group. I was “being mama” to two of the younger girls in my room. My beef with God was that I could (and did) already do all of those kinds of jobs at home. Did I really need to come all the way to Africa just to play Mom to a mission team? Seriously?

I did not journal that night.