April 29
…Even though it’s peaceful and fun in many ways, I still find myself counting down the days until we return to Solwezi. There’s just something about being in your own bed and own kitchen and somewhat in control of your own schedule and not worried about miscommunicating or offending. There’s also something wonderful about a shower. Heck, even a bathtub would be great. I washed my hair again by dunking my head completely in a bucket of water. Fun stuff. In a week I’ll be a pro.
Luke’s stomach is bothering him today. It worries me a bit because at lunch yesterday they served us meat from the night before – which they had just left in the pot in a cabinet without re-heating. We did have beans last night, though, so it may just be gas…
… People here are definitely showing appreciation – bringing chickens and okra and bananas and all sorts of stuff to welcome us as visitors. We have no idea what we should do to show our gratitude. The sacrifices people here are making for us are incredible and really humbling. I am too selfish to be so selfless! But, as Proverbs 28:27 says, “He who gives to the poor will lack nothing, but he who closes his eyes to them receives many curses.” Lord, help me to have a giving heart and to be able to discern how much to give, how much to do, who to help, and most of all, how to glorify and amplify you in the process.
April 30
Last night we woke up to a rat in the room. I jumped back and all night found myself turning a flash light on and looking around…
But there are really good things too. Last night all the kids actually came inside with us after dinner and we played UNO. Surprisingly that is one game that does not require everyone to speak the same language. It was fun to see the kids so excited and Mrs. Yanjisha has an awesome laugh and smile. She is always singing and humming. Life is so simple, yet so incredibly happy.
The kids are creating new toys, like a full oxen and cart set from clay and twigs. They also shoot homemade pellets with slingshots. Yesterday, one of the kids hit a pretty tropical bird and the Yanjishas asked me if I ate that kind of bird and if I wanted them to cook it. Eeeek! I said I don’t know and I think they could tell by my face it wasn’t a good idea.
Today we helped crush stones for their church’s new foundation (talk about humbling!). This afternoon we went and watched a couple of village “futbol” games. It was a nice mix up from just sitting at the house. Some of the Yanjisha grandkids have really taken to Luke and he had one on his shoulders the whole time.
It rained a bit and afterward there was a great rainbow. I may never get used to the incredible skies here – rainbows, sunsets, and the most amazing star-filled nights. In the book I’m reading (Lover of My Soul), it talks of how God often communicates to us as his bride – with sweet whispers to draw us close, not loud shouts or giant storms. We have to listen for those whispers and gaze upon His splendor. We can’t always look for the “use” of something, trying to capture the stars in a photo for others or find purpose other than taking in God’s beauty and goodness.
14 May 2011
A Look at Village Life... part 1
There is so much to say after spending two weeks in the village, and yet so much of it would seem frivolous or dramatized. So rather than try to summarize or explain or anything of the sort, I’m going to just go straight from the heart, including excerpts from journal entries written during our time in Lubofu. As it was holiday time there – just before the harvest started – there was a lot of time to sit and think and write. Some of it is silly, and some a little more serious. I’ll give you a little glimpse of our thoughts…
April 26
… We pee into a hole in the ground. Granted, I’ve gotten used to this at Lusa and elsewhere, but I just went into the little house that surrounds said hole, and the flies were crazy. We’re talking you start to go, and all the flies fly out and up. Yeah. Awesome. Think horror movie – I thought they might eat me. I may cut back on my water intake, or start going to the bathroom in the bushes…
April 27
Mrs. Yanjisha asked me what I am writing, and we tried to explain about journaling and how our culture is a written culture whereas theirs’ is oral. She has asked me about recipes for this and that, and I don’t have a clue without being able to look them up! They seem to remember so much more and memorize songs and verses more easily. I think what really continues to amaze me is how innovative people – especially kids – are here. They were filling a battery with acid and one of the kids made a funnel from a leaf. They are constantly creating toys and tools from scraps of this and that and things from nature. It is also amazing how young the children are when they start working and helping at home. The kids are fetching water and cleaning and cooking and farming and caring for (and killing) animals. They sleep in a small house separate from the adults and never eat with the adults.
Typically in the village the kids live in a small house by the grandparents’ house once they are 7 or 8 years old; the Yanjishas have 5-9 kids living “with” them at any given time – all grandkids, and kids of their nephews and nieces. The kids have an incredible respect for elders and seem so easily satisfied and entertained.
It’s very different from the kids – and especially teens – in town. Those teens in town have been exposed to western thought and dress and rebellion has really taken its hold. That and they’re not busy working in the fields. We worry about seeing this culture disappear as Zambia becomes more developed. A mine is being built nearby here. It will change everything. The road won’t be safe to walk down freely as it is now, and it will be so much louder and easier. It might bring jobs, but is it a good thing? Are we destroying a lifestyle of peace and contentment by bringing more, bigger, “better?”
The Yanjisha’s farm is amazing. The work ethic and love of God is incredible. Yes, we (westerners) needed to bring the gospel, but it seems we’ve brought so much rubbish along with it. How much is helpful? How much is needed? At what point are we polluting (or crippling from giving handouts) a beautiful, peaceful, happy culture? Perhaps we should have Zambians come to the US to teach people like us how to work hard, love life and want less. If only…
April 26
… We pee into a hole in the ground. Granted, I’ve gotten used to this at Lusa and elsewhere, but I just went into the little house that surrounds said hole, and the flies were crazy. We’re talking you start to go, and all the flies fly out and up. Yeah. Awesome. Think horror movie – I thought they might eat me. I may cut back on my water intake, or start going to the bathroom in the bushes…
April 27
Mrs. Yanjisha asked me what I am writing, and we tried to explain about journaling and how our culture is a written culture whereas theirs’ is oral. She has asked me about recipes for this and that, and I don’t have a clue without being able to look them up! They seem to remember so much more and memorize songs and verses more easily. I think what really continues to amaze me is how innovative people – especially kids – are here. They were filling a battery with acid and one of the kids made a funnel from a leaf. They are constantly creating toys and tools from scraps of this and that and things from nature. It is also amazing how young the children are when they start working and helping at home. The kids are fetching water and cleaning and cooking and farming and caring for (and killing) animals. They sleep in a small house separate from the adults and never eat with the adults.
Typically in the village the kids live in a small house by the grandparents’ house once they are 7 or 8 years old; the Yanjishas have 5-9 kids living “with” them at any given time – all grandkids, and kids of their nephews and nieces. The kids have an incredible respect for elders and seem so easily satisfied and entertained.
It’s very different from the kids – and especially teens – in town. Those teens in town have been exposed to western thought and dress and rebellion has really taken its hold. That and they’re not busy working in the fields. We worry about seeing this culture disappear as Zambia becomes more developed. A mine is being built nearby here. It will change everything. The road won’t be safe to walk down freely as it is now, and it will be so much louder and easier. It might bring jobs, but is it a good thing? Are we destroying a lifestyle of peace and contentment by bringing more, bigger, “better?”
The Yanjisha’s farm is amazing. The work ethic and love of God is incredible. Yes, we (westerners) needed to bring the gospel, but it seems we’ve brought so much rubbish along with it. How much is helpful? How much is needed? At what point are we polluting (or crippling from giving handouts) a beautiful, peaceful, happy culture? Perhaps we should have Zambians come to the US to teach people like us how to work hard, love life and want less. If only…
09 March 2011
Clinging to God
“I lift my eyes up to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and earth.” (Psalm 121:1-2)
It’s so easy to rely on everyone and everything but God until you’re in a place and situation where the only thing you can do is cry out to God.
My grandma passed away yesterday. She had been in and out of the hospital for the past three weeks, and from what I understand had just been moved to a nursing home for therapy and care until she was strong enough to go home. She died in her sleep, just before my grandpa arrived to visit her. As my mom said during our brief conversation on the phone, God had a plan in it – and waited until no one in the family was there. Grandpa was home, Dad was home, Mom was in Florida with friends and Jason was home. And me, I’m on the complete other side of the world.
I want to believe that Grandma had put her faith in Jesus before she left this world. I have cried so many tears for her and uttered so many prayers over the past hours, days, weeks, months and even years. Just in the last few weeks there have been people on six different continents praying for her. Six! That’s everywhere but Antarctica! That has to mean something, right? Even hours before she died, mom and a friend fervently prayed that someone in the nursing home would share Christ with her and lead her to the Lord.
“And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” (James 5:15-16)
I don’t know what God’s answer to those prayers was. I like to think that like the persistent widow, whose requests were answered by the judge because she did not give up in asking, that the Lord heard my prayers and they were answered. I so pray that my prayers were His will, as we know He desires that none shall perish and that if we ask anything according to His will, we know that we have those requests for which we have asked. But here, miles and hours away from family – from my grandpa who is in complete despair after spending his whole life loving and depending on my grandma – from my dad, an only child who now has to make difficult decisions and be the stronghold for the family – from my mom, whose faith is upholding so much and desperately wants to see my grandpa trust the Lord – here, all I can do is Trust in the Lord.
During our ministry with the primary age kids at our church in Illinois, we learned a song with the words of Proverbs 3:5-6: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight.”
Over the last 16 hours since I heard the news of my grandma’s death, that song has resonated in my heart. In the numerous responses that have poured in from friends and supporters from the e-mail we sent out, one of our friends had quoted that very verse. Then today I pulled out a book from a dear friend titled, Treasures for Women who Hope, and the bookmark inside had that same verse on the back. I am desperately trying to trust in the Lord right now. I’m trusting Him to draw my grandpa, and the others in my family who do not know Him, close to Him. Trusting that He reveals Himself to them in ways that they cannot deny His goodness and love. Trusting Him in the decision of whether to stay here or to go to be with my family at this time. Trusting Him because my understanding is so limited. Trusting Him because without that, I have nothing.
A few months ago I wrote a blog about my grandmother. Read that here: http://pastorllama.blogspot.com/2010/07/full-circle.html
It’s so easy to rely on everyone and everything but God until you’re in a place and situation where the only thing you can do is cry out to God.
My grandma passed away yesterday. She had been in and out of the hospital for the past three weeks, and from what I understand had just been moved to a nursing home for therapy and care until she was strong enough to go home. She died in her sleep, just before my grandpa arrived to visit her. As my mom said during our brief conversation on the phone, God had a plan in it – and waited until no one in the family was there. Grandpa was home, Dad was home, Mom was in Florida with friends and Jason was home. And me, I’m on the complete other side of the world.
I want to believe that Grandma had put her faith in Jesus before she left this world. I have cried so many tears for her and uttered so many prayers over the past hours, days, weeks, months and even years. Just in the last few weeks there have been people on six different continents praying for her. Six! That’s everywhere but Antarctica! That has to mean something, right? Even hours before she died, mom and a friend fervently prayed that someone in the nursing home would share Christ with her and lead her to the Lord.
“And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” (James 5:15-16)
I don’t know what God’s answer to those prayers was. I like to think that like the persistent widow, whose requests were answered by the judge because she did not give up in asking, that the Lord heard my prayers and they were answered. I so pray that my prayers were His will, as we know He desires that none shall perish and that if we ask anything according to His will, we know that we have those requests for which we have asked. But here, miles and hours away from family – from my grandpa who is in complete despair after spending his whole life loving and depending on my grandma – from my dad, an only child who now has to make difficult decisions and be the stronghold for the family – from my mom, whose faith is upholding so much and desperately wants to see my grandpa trust the Lord – here, all I can do is Trust in the Lord.
During our ministry with the primary age kids at our church in Illinois, we learned a song with the words of Proverbs 3:5-6: “Trust in the LORD with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your ways acknowledge him and he will make your paths straight.”
Over the last 16 hours since I heard the news of my grandma’s death, that song has resonated in my heart. In the numerous responses that have poured in from friends and supporters from the e-mail we sent out, one of our friends had quoted that very verse. Then today I pulled out a book from a dear friend titled, Treasures for Women who Hope, and the bookmark inside had that same verse on the back. I am desperately trying to trust in the Lord right now. I’m trusting Him to draw my grandpa, and the others in my family who do not know Him, close to Him. Trusting that He reveals Himself to them in ways that they cannot deny His goodness and love. Trusting Him in the decision of whether to stay here or to go to be with my family at this time. Trusting Him because my understanding is so limited. Trusting Him because without that, I have nothing.
A few months ago I wrote a blog about my grandmother. Read that here: http://pastorllama.blogspot.com/2010/07/full-circle.html
26 February 2011
... The People of Zambia
Serving and Loving the People of Zambia. This is the phrase that is on most of our prayer letters, photos and other materials. This has been the plan, the goal, the intent of preparing for ministry here. Little did we realize that the “People of Zambia” hardly includes just native Zambians.
Since arriving here 2 ½ months ago, we have had opportunities to serve and love – and be served and loved by – people from Zambia, Zimbabwe, Tanzania, South Africa, Ghana, Ethiopia, Angola, New Zealand, Malaysia, Korea, India, Ireland, United Kingdom, Germany, Holland, Canada, and the US. And every expectation or stereotype I might have had of people from each of those countries has been stripped away. And though we and many of our expatriate friends, and fellow missionaries find ourselves immersed in Zambian culture, many of these individuals seem to be living in a completely different world.
The copper mining industry has really grown in Zambia, and our town of Solwezi is no exception. The mines certainly employ many Zambians, but there are also “experts” brought in from all over the world. Some, like many of our white Zimbabwean friends, have fled their countries and started life over here in Zambia. Others know their time here is only temporary until projects are completed and they return to their respective countries or move on to a different project. But while here, they form a community – or two very distinct communities. There are the miners who are Christians, and those who aren’t. They all live at what is called the Kansanshi Golf Estate, a gated, guarded, manicured facility complete with an 18-hole golf course, clubhouse, pool and gym. The houses are very westernized with modern appliances, and a lot of their food needs are shipped directly in from Lusaka, or even Johannesburg, so they rarely have to venture into town or away from the estate.
Just a side note here: we don’t look down on our friends at the mines for their lifestyle. They’re here to work, and they work very hard and tirelessly. We actually appreciate having the mining estate, because having both grown up in water, we dry out if we don’t get a good swim in now and then!
Though there are English-speaking churches in Solwezi, the Christian community at the mining estate has started a home church fellowship. There is no one who is trained theologically, but their faith is real and a few of the men have taken turns sharing a message and leading the group in songs and prayer each week. They also have a women’s group that meets and discusses Christian books (currently they’re reading The Five Love Languages). Though they tend to stay there on the complex, they have offered resources, assistance, and friendship to us (even frontline spray for our dog!). While their fellowship is strong, there seems to be a divide between those who believe, and the other miners who spend much of their free time at the clubhouse bar, and little effort to reach the others for Christ.
I write this because we’re realizing more and more that God has plans for us that go far beyond the Kaonde people of Solwezi. Though our primary ministry is focused on training, teaching, discipling and loving our friends in the villages around Solwezi, as white, American missionaries living in town, we are also in a unique position to reach out to and serve those on the other end of the economical and social structure. And what’s more, to possibly help bridge the gap between the two. I hate distinguishing people based on the color of their skin, but racism and stereotypes are very strong here, and the wealthy, white folks from Zambia and other parts of Africa (mostly of British roots) have definitive attitudes toward the poor, black population and vice versa. But God’s love for both groups – all people – is very real, and we will be honored if He uses us to demonstrate that love here through our interactions with people from all classes and nationalities. There will likely be opportunities for Luke to “preach” in the home church fellowship, and I have gotten involved in the ladies Bible study. Yet, we speak Kikaonde to their gardeners, maids and guards, dress in our long pants and skirts, and share of the positive things God is doing in the villages and homes of our Zambian friends. We also seek to be lights to the other miners we see around – those outside the Christian fellowship. (Additionally, we sometimes find ourselves working side by side with Peace Corp volunteers in the village – a HUGE opportunity for sharing Christ.)
Isn’t God amazing? It’s like our Cameroonian pastor in Dallas – there in the US to reach other Africans for Christ – culturally equipped in a way an American pastor would not be. Perhaps we weren’t just called to Africa to love our African brothers and sisters, but also so that we might reach other Westerners for Christ in the process. May we keep our eyes and hearts and home open to the ways God intends to use us here in Zambia!
Since arriving here 2 ½ months ago, we have had opportunities to serve and love – and be served and loved by – people from Zambia, Zimbabwe, Tanzania, South Africa, Ghana, Ethiopia, Angola, New Zealand, Malaysia, Korea, India, Ireland, United Kingdom, Germany, Holland, Canada, and the US. And every expectation or stereotype I might have had of people from each of those countries has been stripped away. And though we and many of our expatriate friends, and fellow missionaries find ourselves immersed in Zambian culture, many of these individuals seem to be living in a completely different world.
The copper mining industry has really grown in Zambia, and our town of Solwezi is no exception. The mines certainly employ many Zambians, but there are also “experts” brought in from all over the world. Some, like many of our white Zimbabwean friends, have fled their countries and started life over here in Zambia. Others know their time here is only temporary until projects are completed and they return to their respective countries or move on to a different project. But while here, they form a community – or two very distinct communities. There are the miners who are Christians, and those who aren’t. They all live at what is called the Kansanshi Golf Estate, a gated, guarded, manicured facility complete with an 18-hole golf course, clubhouse, pool and gym. The houses are very westernized with modern appliances, and a lot of their food needs are shipped directly in from Lusaka, or even Johannesburg, so they rarely have to venture into town or away from the estate.
Just a side note here: we don’t look down on our friends at the mines for their lifestyle. They’re here to work, and they work very hard and tirelessly. We actually appreciate having the mining estate, because having both grown up in water, we dry out if we don’t get a good swim in now and then!
Though there are English-speaking churches in Solwezi, the Christian community at the mining estate has started a home church fellowship. There is no one who is trained theologically, but their faith is real and a few of the men have taken turns sharing a message and leading the group in songs and prayer each week. They also have a women’s group that meets and discusses Christian books (currently they’re reading The Five Love Languages). Though they tend to stay there on the complex, they have offered resources, assistance, and friendship to us (even frontline spray for our dog!). While their fellowship is strong, there seems to be a divide between those who believe, and the other miners who spend much of their free time at the clubhouse bar, and little effort to reach the others for Christ.
I write this because we’re realizing more and more that God has plans for us that go far beyond the Kaonde people of Solwezi. Though our primary ministry is focused on training, teaching, discipling and loving our friends in the villages around Solwezi, as white, American missionaries living in town, we are also in a unique position to reach out to and serve those on the other end of the economical and social structure. And what’s more, to possibly help bridge the gap between the two. I hate distinguishing people based on the color of their skin, but racism and stereotypes are very strong here, and the wealthy, white folks from Zambia and other parts of Africa (mostly of British roots) have definitive attitudes toward the poor, black population and vice versa. But God’s love for both groups – all people – is very real, and we will be honored if He uses us to demonstrate that love here through our interactions with people from all classes and nationalities. There will likely be opportunities for Luke to “preach” in the home church fellowship, and I have gotten involved in the ladies Bible study. Yet, we speak Kikaonde to their gardeners, maids and guards, dress in our long pants and skirts, and share of the positive things God is doing in the villages and homes of our Zambian friends. We also seek to be lights to the other miners we see around – those outside the Christian fellowship. (Additionally, we sometimes find ourselves working side by side with Peace Corp volunteers in the village – a HUGE opportunity for sharing Christ.)
Isn’t God amazing? It’s like our Cameroonian pastor in Dallas – there in the US to reach other Africans for Christ – culturally equipped in a way an American pastor would not be. Perhaps we weren’t just called to Africa to love our African brothers and sisters, but also so that we might reach other Westerners for Christ in the process. May we keep our eyes and hearts and home open to the ways God intends to use us here in Zambia!
05 February 2011
Opportunity Knocks... Literally
“Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for thereby some have entertained angels unawares.” Hebrews 13:15
Many people say they would gladly do mission work or volunteer or help someone if they knew of the needs – if the opportunities presented themselves.
Here in Zambia, opportunity knocks, multiple times a day.
During our initial period of language learning, we have strict orders from our directors not to commit to any specific ministry. No teaching, no set schedule, no planned activities. We have quickly discovered that language learning itself is a ministry, as is simply living here. Here in Zambia; here in Solwezi; here in what has been known as a mission house for 40 or so years.
Take yesterday (Friday), for example. We started our day at a grammar lesson with one of the veteran missionaries here and thought we would spend our afternoon reviewing our lesson and relaxing a bit, as Monday through Thursday we typically walk out to Kimasala (where our primary ministry will be based) to meet with our local language helpers. We have a gentleman who helps with some of the slashing (cutting the grass) and work around the house, and because his birthday is today, I sent him home with a bag of rice and a bag of beans for his family. They, like the majority of the Zambians, typically only eat nshima (balls made from ground maize, water and salt). Beans and rice are luxuries. I was humbled and shocked when he knelt down to thank me. Have we ever been that grateful for rice and beans?
Shortly after he left, a young woman visited who had been close to the Bruce family. Nyawa works with neglected elderly people in a nearby area, but is from Lusaka (the capital) originally. She came seeking encouragement, friendship, and advice regarding her ministry, as well as a relationship she is in. While she was here, Charlie, who will be moving into the cottage on our property, came to store some things in our home while his is under renovation. Shortly after Nyawa left and the others had parted, our friend Sharpy arrived to visit and tell us about his work at the local newspaper. Later, just as we were ready to go to bed, we had another visitor who has some items stored by our carport to talk about some struggles with his ministry. Even today, we’ve had two unexpected visitors already.
There are days when visitors arrive just as we sit down for lunch or dinner – we hear it’s fairly common and have learned to cook extra. There are days when our time in Kimasala goes hours longer than planned because people are looking for a listening ear, a word of advice, or a lesson in English. . We take plastic grocery bags and Styrofoam trays from meat with us so that the ladies at Lusa can use the bags to hold maize they’ve grown and the trays to display earrings they’ve made to sell to make money for the ministries at Lusa. Things we would have just thrown away become a viable part of their livelihood.
It’s both exhausting and exhilarating. And all the while, people are ministering right back to us in amazing ways. At least once a week, someone sends us home with maize, tomatoes, mangoes, bananas or other precious goods. We’ve had people stop by when we’re not home, delivering cucumbers, pineapple, and from our expatriate friends at the mines, frontline spray for our dog! (There is an awesome and unexpected ministry opportunity to the miners, but that will be the subject of another post). At times we are frustrated that we can’t “start” the ministry we say we came here to do, but at those times we remind ourselves that we are learning to better communicate, building relationships, and doing what we can for the greatest and “least of these.”
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.... I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me.” (Matthew 26:35-36, 40)
Many people say they would gladly do mission work or volunteer or help someone if they knew of the needs – if the opportunities presented themselves.
Here in Zambia, opportunity knocks, multiple times a day.
During our initial period of language learning, we have strict orders from our directors not to commit to any specific ministry. No teaching, no set schedule, no planned activities. We have quickly discovered that language learning itself is a ministry, as is simply living here. Here in Zambia; here in Solwezi; here in what has been known as a mission house for 40 or so years.
Take yesterday (Friday), for example. We started our day at a grammar lesson with one of the veteran missionaries here and thought we would spend our afternoon reviewing our lesson and relaxing a bit, as Monday through Thursday we typically walk out to Kimasala (where our primary ministry will be based) to meet with our local language helpers. We have a gentleman who helps with some of the slashing (cutting the grass) and work around the house, and because his birthday is today, I sent him home with a bag of rice and a bag of beans for his family. They, like the majority of the Zambians, typically only eat nshima (balls made from ground maize, water and salt). Beans and rice are luxuries. I was humbled and shocked when he knelt down to thank me. Have we ever been that grateful for rice and beans?
Shortly after he left, a young woman visited who had been close to the Bruce family. Nyawa works with neglected elderly people in a nearby area, but is from Lusaka (the capital) originally. She came seeking encouragement, friendship, and advice regarding her ministry, as well as a relationship she is in. While she was here, Charlie, who will be moving into the cottage on our property, came to store some things in our home while his is under renovation. Shortly after Nyawa left and the others had parted, our friend Sharpy arrived to visit and tell us about his work at the local newspaper. Later, just as we were ready to go to bed, we had another visitor who has some items stored by our carport to talk about some struggles with his ministry. Even today, we’ve had two unexpected visitors already.
There are days when visitors arrive just as we sit down for lunch or dinner – we hear it’s fairly common and have learned to cook extra. There are days when our time in Kimasala goes hours longer than planned because people are looking for a listening ear, a word of advice, or a lesson in English. . We take plastic grocery bags and Styrofoam trays from meat with us so that the ladies at Lusa can use the bags to hold maize they’ve grown and the trays to display earrings they’ve made to sell to make money for the ministries at Lusa. Things we would have just thrown away become a viable part of their livelihood.
It’s both exhausting and exhilarating. And all the while, people are ministering right back to us in amazing ways. At least once a week, someone sends us home with maize, tomatoes, mangoes, bananas or other precious goods. We’ve had people stop by when we’re not home, delivering cucumbers, pineapple, and from our expatriate friends at the mines, frontline spray for our dog! (There is an awesome and unexpected ministry opportunity to the miners, but that will be the subject of another post). At times we are frustrated that we can’t “start” the ministry we say we came here to do, but at those times we remind ourselves that we are learning to better communicate, building relationships, and doing what we can for the greatest and “least of these.”
“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.... I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did it for me.” (Matthew 26:35-36, 40)
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