Change Takes Time

“We can make an envelope for the cash box for the renewal.”

Surprising words to come from Mama Yoba’s lips.  A year ago she didn’t like the cash box.  She didn’t think it would work, and she really didn’t like that she didn’t have access to it.  If the money went in the cash box, she didn’t think she would be able to give to help friends when there was a funeral or get anything done that she wanted.  If she received money for things at Lusa, she would use it as she saw fit instead of putting it into the cash box.  In fact, she even asked Luke one day if we didn’t trust her with a key.  Granted, Luke just responded, “If that’s true, they must not trust me either, because I also don’t have a key!”

Change takes time.  When we started the “envelope system” at Lusa, it was a sort of experiment.  An experiment Regina was willing to try.  We created 10 envelopes, labeled with things like “feeding program,” “Zesco/Mema house” (electricity/water), “chickens and agriculture,” “teacher supplies and stipend,” “savings,” etc.  The idea was that each time any income was generated, through craft markets, handmade jewelry sales, donations, or other means, that money would be divided among the envelopes and documented on sheets of paper in each particular envelope.  This idea is very foreign in a culture where people are quick to spend any money they have so that they do not feel obligated to give it to family or friends in need.  While bank accounts exist here, the majority of account holders have zero balance until pay day, at which they immediately withdraw the entire payment sum and spend it.  Others live too far from town for the accounts to be practical for every day use.  Lusa has a bank account, but putting small amounts of cash in an account five kilometers away and then withdrawing said cash for a few dollars here and there for charcoal or tomatoes became a bit irrational.

So we started the cash box – kept hidden in the office at Lusa – with Regina holding the only key.  In the last year since starting the “experiement,” the electricity has never been turned off as a result of delinquent payment, the chicken house has been completely wired for electricity, the doors have been replaced, the teachers have received occasional stipends as gratitude for their hard work, and the children have received a nutritious meal almost every week that school has been in session. 

There have been times that Regina had to stand up to her mother when Mama Yoba wanted to give large amounts for funerals of community members or wanted to buy something for the hall on a whim rather than considering the true needs.  There were times when community members and volunteers questioned the system – hoping to pocket some of the money for themselves.  But after a year, Mama Yoba is on board.  If there is a need for which we don’t have an envelope (like renewing the organization’s certification with the government), she suggests we add one so we can start saving toward said need.  If she receives money, she now gives it to Regina to distribute through the cash box.  And just this week, Mama Yoba repeatedly told me, “thank you.” 

The reason I write this is not for my own accolades.  I got the idea for envelope budgeting from Crown Financial’s Money Matters radio program I used to listen to in the States.  No, the reason I write this is in recognition of the fact that change takes time.  We could probably raise a bunch of money and build fancy buildings and hold special events and be able to create a grand list of all the things we’ve “accomplished” since coming to Zambia, but without working side by side with our brothers and sisters here, without cautious, diligent, and sometimes painful teaching, those “accomplishments” wouldn’t really “accomplish” anything in the grand scheme of things.  True, lasting change… takes time.

And in order to introduce change – to experiment with new ideas and go new directions in ministry – we have learned that we have to start with the youth.  In a culture where everything is tied to tradition, relationship, and the “way it’s always been done,” the youth rarely get a voice.  But they are eager to learn; eager for responsibility and trust; and eager for change.  Regina took a risk standing up to her mother, but now has the respect of Mama Yoba and several others in the community because of that stand.  She’s also learned how to budget and wants to teach others in the community and put what she’s learned into practice in her own business and personal efforts.  In the last year, we may not have built fancy buildings or touched hundreds of lives, but by pouring into one person at a time, over time, change happens.

The cash box is a very tangible example, but we see the same impact on a spiritual level.  Regina has grown to be an incredible, devoted woman of God, and is leading young girls and others in the community in the same direction.

We look forward to seeing the same kind of changes and growth in the young men and women we work with as coaches for Sports Friends, who will then become leaders and role models for the children on their teams.  Life on life, day by day, disciple-making.  And in the long run, that is far more satisfying – and glorifying to God – than fancy buildings or numbers on paper. 

From Football to False Prophets - a Conversation

“So, what are you doing here?” asked the young man I was driving from Kimasala to town.

An appropriate question to consider a year and a half after moving to Zambia.  My response would have been different a year ago, 9 months ago, even 6 months ago.  Much has changed in our plans and in our ministry.  So, I answered him according to the most recent development.

“We are working with local churches to establish sports ministries.  I help to train sports ministers from the church to start teams with the children in the community, build relationships with the kids, and then share Christ with them.”  I probably wasn’t so eloquent, but it was along those lines.

As I drove down the pot-holed road to town, we started talking about the churches in Zambia.  I explained that we had planned to join a local church when we arrived, but found a great need for a church among the non-Zambian community, many of whom do not leave their secluded, fenced, and guarded golf estate on the edge of town.  My passenger seemed intrigued by this and asked a few questions before dropping an unexpected one.

“Are you a Christian?”

My first reaction was to say, “Uh, duh.”  But, I’ve learned to be a bit more polite than that, so I answered with a respectful, “Yes.”

“I mean, are you born again?” he asked.

“Yes, sir.  We wouldn’t be here if we weren’t.”

And this is where it started to get interesting.  This young man – a teacher at a local school – began to tell me that church leaders need to be more powerful, and that churches will continue to fail unless the leaders start doing miracles.  He went on to tell me that performing miracles is a sign of a true believer.

“Just look at TB Joshua,” he said.

I didn’t know how to respond to that last comment, and before I had the chance to come up with anything, I came across a local pastor I’ve been working with to start a team at his church.  When I stopped to offer the pastor a ride, my first passenger hopped out of the car and walked off, leaving the conversation hanging and me pondering his comments.

That was Saturday.  Now, three days later, I still can’t wrap my head around this conversation.  Not because he made solid points.  I got lost somewhere in the middle of his monologue.  What I am struggling with is the amount of bad theology prevalent in other countries that is finding a strong foothold here among the churches of Zambia as well.  The prosperity gospel, which teaches that, if you believe in Jesus Christ, you will be blessed with health and wealth, and, subsequently, failure to have health or wealth is a sign of lack of faith, is a growing trend here, only exacerbated by the large (and wealthy) churches that preach this belief.  Similarly, the “God-olatry” of the name-it-and-claim-it teachers is ravaging the spiritual lives of many here and at home.  There is a fine line between praying in faith that God will act, and TELLING God what He is going to do, and I fear that the line was crossed long ago.  Then there are the TV personalities like “Prophet” TB Joshua, whose “acts of healing” and “prophecies” have repeatedly been proven false or staged, yet who still command a massive international following.  If somebody claims to be a prophet, speaking the very words of God, and then those words turn out to be untrue, does that not mean that he is a false prophet?

If you were expecting me to conclude with some great theological statement, I am sorry to disappoint.  If nothing else, this episode has forced me to refocus my eyes upon Christ and Christ alone, and it has reminded me that, just because there are churches at every corner does NOT mean that the Gospel is proclaimed throughout this land.  There is still work to be done here.

And we feel so blessed to be a part of it.

When there’s nothing you can do

Helpless.  So many times in the last year and a half I have just felt helpless. 

Today I went to Kimasala with one purpose – to encourage Jillian.  Jillian’s grandmother brought her to Lusa Home-Based Care about a year ago to see if Mama Yoba would be willing to allow she and her three precious children to stay in one of the small houses on the property.  Jillian had recently been hospitalized – the HIV had so crippled her immune system that she nearly died of sickness.  While in the hospital, her husband walked away, and married another woman.  Staying at Lusa would mean Jillian would be closer to the hospital, providing better access to ARVs and proper medical care. 

A few months into her time at Lusa, Jillian gave birth to her fourth child, Moses.  So afraid she would be kicked out (abandoned once more), Jillian didn’t tell Mama Yoba (a certified birthing assistant and champion against the spread of HIV) she was pregnant.  Mama Yoba only learned of it when she was called on in the middle of the night to deliver the baby.  Praise the Lord that Moses is a growing, (seemingly) healthy boy. 

In addition to watching Moses and his siblings grow over the last year, I have had the joy to get to know Jillian – to see her body grow stronger, to be humbled by her hard work and servant’s heart, and to see her spirit grow in maturity in Christ.  While she has been afraid of being “chased” from Lusa, we all see her as a vital part of the ministry there.  Though her mother pulled her from school in grade nine so that she could get married, she is incredibly intelligent.  Though she has been raising four children tirelessly, she also helps to cook for, teach and love the many children we serve at Lusa.  She has built friendships and become “part of the family” in so many ways.

Jillian helping make jewelry to sell

So I was quite surprised at our ladies Bible study on Thursday to find her distracted, tired, and generally just “off.”  The children were dirtier than usual and the light was gone from Jillian’s face.  Midway through our study, a woman came around and was yelling at Jillian and she got up and went to speak to the lady.  

Afterward, Regina told me the story. Apparently the woman was her mother, who had been coming by the center for several days.  At first she went only to Mama Yoba, telling her it was time for her daughter to return to their village.  Mama Yoba did not want Jillian to feel she was not welcome anymore, so she told the woman that she needed to talk to Jillian herself.  From what I understand, people from her village had told Jillian’s (ex) husband that she had survived the near-death hospital stay, had another child (his), and was happy and thriving at Lusa.  They told him what a hard worker she is and how he would be better off with her than with the “replacement” wife.  So he went to the mother to convince her to bring Jillian back.  Both her husband and her mother had been coming by Lusa over the course of a week or so and trying to convince Jillian to go.  Jillian was feeling obligated (and I have little doubt the man was forcing himself on her when he would come around), but yet knew she would be leaving the love, safety, provision, and family that had surrounded her at Lusa.  So yes, she was distracted, torn about what to do and unsure the way forward.

Big mess.  I had a heavy heart leaving Regina’s home that afternoon.  We talked about ways to encourage Jillian – to let her know what she means to us and to speak truth into her heart of her worth as a Child of God.  We talked of having her on a regular teaching schedule with the kids, and really trying to spend time with her so she’s not trapped by the burden she’s carrying.  Later at home, Luke and I talked about having her come stay at our house for a bit so her husband couldn’t find her.  We thought of going to the mother to try to “talk sense into her.” But culturally, things are so different, and we really didn’t know what to do.

Knowing Regina and Mama Yoba would be out over the weekend through today, I went to Lusa to see Jillian, stopping to buy some bread rolls and bananas on the way for her family.  When I arrived, I arrived to an empty room.  She had gone back.  My heart sank.  And I walked home – helpless.

Helpless.  Like when little Chris ran away from Lusa and we couldn’t just call up Missing Persons and send out people to find him. Like when the dog and cat have been so sick and we couldn’t rush them to a veterinary hospital.  Like when Luke was stuck on an airplane for 30 hours trying to get home to see his grandfather one last time.  Like when the truck came flying out of the grass toward our vehicle and there was nothing we could do...

Except turn to Jesus.  In those moments of helplessness - complete vulnerability; those times when you’ve exhausted every possible answer and resource; when the problems seem too big…He is there.  Cry out to Abba Father and pray.  As an older missionary recently said to me, “some problems are best solved on your knees.”  The way I see it, some problems are only solved on your knees.  In our weakness, He makes us strong.  In our helplessness, He is the Helper.  When we have nothing left to give or are absolutely unable to move forward, He will carry us.  When we step out of the way, He solves the problems in ways that supersede anything we can do in our own strength.

It’s at those times that I’m reminded that as sinners, there is nothing we ourselves can do to make things right with God.  We may exhaust every option – good deeds, sacrifices, turning to false gods and idols – but we are helpless.  Until we turn to Jesus.  Cry out to Jesus, whose death on the cross was the only option that could rescue us from our brokenness – to restore humanity to eternal life with the Father. 

So tonight I’m praying for Jillian, knowing she’s in God’s hands and He can protect her much better than I can.  I’m also praying for you.  That you’ll allow Jesus to heal your broken heart, to rescue you from helplessness, from brokenness. 

Because sometimes, that's the only thing we can do. 

Getting the Ball Rolling

From the moment I returned from the States in mid-February, I have been running.  And I just realized that it’s May, and I haven’t touched the blog since I got back.  Woops.

So what has kept me so busy?  I’m glad you asked.

You have probably been following our recent adventures, including a trip to Ethiopia, then another one to Thailand.  But these trips weren’t just for vacation; they were for training (sort of).  God has opened the door for us to bring Sports Friends to Zambia, and so, before we started, we had to learn about the program.  So we went, and we learned.

And now we are doing it.

The day I returned to Solwezi I received a call from a local pastor asking if I would be available the following morning for a visit.  Somewhat reluctantly (I was really tired), I agreed to meet with him.  When he came in the morning, we talked about how his church could help us start this ministry by forming our first model team.  We asked him to identify a male and a female sports leader who we could then train to coach but also, and more importantly, to minister.  He told us he knew just the people, and he set up a time for us to meet them that coming Sunday.

So we went to this meeting, and there we met Larry.  He’s 18.  He loves sports.  And he is passionate about Christ.  We asked him to pray about whether or not God would have him lead this ministry at his church, and then set up a follow-up meeting for Thursday of that week.  If God wanted him to be a part of it, he would come; if God had other plans, then he wouldn’t come.  Simple as that.

Thursday arrived, and Larry came.

That was March 1^st.  The next day I went with the pastor to the local school and got permission to use their football (soccer) pitch (field) a few times a week.  Meanwhile, Larry identified six boys age 11-12 from the church, and then asked them to each bring a friend.  Then, on Tuesday afternoon, we held our first official practice.  It was chaotic.  There were 100+ schoolchildren wanting to join in during their break.  I realized how bad my Kiikaonde really is.  But it was fun, and now, two months later, we are beginning to see some fruit.

For about an hour and a half every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, Larry has this group of 12 pre-teen boys at the pitch.  They play football.  They joke around.  Larry teaches them about sharing, or teamwork, or respect, or perseverance, or whatever else might come up.  He is building relationships with each of the boys, and they are learning to trust him and look at him as a positive role model.

But it isn’t just a ministry to the kids.  Part of our ministry involves developing leaders.  Once a week, usually before we have practice with the boys, Larry and I sit down and do a Bible study, discuss plans for developing the team, and pray for the boys.  It is an opportunity for me to pour into Larry, to encourage him, and to equip him for ministry, as he is the one really on the front lines working with the kids.

And that brings us to May, and the next steps for Sports Friends Zambia.  Over the coming weeks, we plan to meet with several more churches in the Kimasala area.  Our prayer is that we can help start 4-5 more teams like the first one, providing ministry to around 60 more boys, plus ministry training for a handful more coaches.  There are days when I am completely overwhelmed to think about what lies ahead, but I know that the God we serve is much greater than any obstacle that can stand in our way.

Grace - Car Crash Revisited

This has been a long time coming, but I thought I would post some excerpts from my journal shortly after the car accident I was in February 5…

February 7, 2012

“So I think we were talking about running – marathons and ultramarathons and training and injuries and good ol’ runners talk.  I had met Sharrone 30 minutes before as my taxi arrived to meet my ride to Ndola at a gas station on the edge of Lusaka.  Squeezed in the back seat between two booster chairs, I was in charge of holding the portable DVD player while the two young boys looked on from either side of me.  The Watts were heading home after a swim gala and were gracious enough to let me tag along for the ride.  About 10 kilometers or so out of Lusaka on the Great North Road, everything changed.

You know how in books and movies people talk of their ‘life flashing before their eyes’ in accidents and near-death experiences? Well, as the truck flew at us from the tall grass along the edge of the road and impact was made, I just remember closing my eyes and waiting for everything to go still and black.  I thought that was it.  As the car rolled and I heard the crunch of the roof, I was convinced that I was going to lose consciousness and never wake up.

The stillness came, but the pain and blackness did not.  As we rolled to a stop on the passenger side of the car, I was in disbelief that I was okay – and scared to death the kids were not.  But God is good. 

Within moments we all realized what had happened.  Before I knew it, Zambians were standing above us offering to help us out.  I helped unbuckle Sammy and Joel and was the last to climb out – after making a quick desperate search for my phone. And I could still hear the portable DVD player somewhere in the car. Once we were all out, the car was rolled right side up. 

I remember Sharrone telling the onlookers to please not steal from us – as many collected our belongings that were scattered along the roadside and field.  One of the women took it upon herself to comfort the boys while Sharron and Charlie desperately tried to get things under control. We searched for the DVD player to help placate the kids, but it was nowhere to be found. The cooler bag I had disappeared completely, and the contents: apples, carrots, koala crackers and a busted jar o strawberry jam stretched along for 100 meters or so.  I just wanted to find my phone.  Here I was with relative strangers desperate to reach Luke or my parents or someone I knew.  I felt like it was all a weird unreal situation that I mistakenly entered – like a scene in a movie and I was an unscripted ‘extra’ who snuck into the shot. 

My hand was bleeding and shoulder tender, but nothing as bad as it could have been.  We were all safe.  The other driver didn’t even look shaken – dressed in a tie and vest and calm and completely unmoved by the whole situation.  As friends of Sharrone were called from her phone, I kept desperately searching for mine.  I tried to get online from Luke’s computer which was unscathed by the accident, but there was no signal where we were.  I felt so lost – like no one knew where I was and there was no hope.  Sharrone had one contact in her phone that I knew, so we called my friend and she called some others from the mine to let them know what happened.

Eventually, “rescue” rides showed up to take us back to Lusaka and the police came to write reports.  As we gathered all of our belongings from the roadside, the police woman insisted we take everything – even the car CD player, the broken wheels, etc – knowing that the car would be stripped for anything worth anything. 

My ride back to Lusaka happened to be with the Flying Mission director, which was hugely comforting because of his relationship to SIM.  We went to his house and he called our deputy director while his wife fixed up my hand.  One of the couples there was going back to Ndola and I decided to go along.  Their willingness to let me ride, let me use their phones, and then to stay at their house was amazing.  They arranged to take me to the clinic for a checkup the next morning and were incredibly gracious to me – a perfect stranger.  Other friends arranged rides back to Solwezi the next day.  I was so afraid driving – terrified of another accident – and when we almost hit a goat, I think my heart stopped. 

I am back now.  I was able to communicate with mom and then Luke and then our director on the ride to Ndola, and have since been overwhelmed with the outpouring of prayer and support from friends.  One friend brought by a basket of groceries and others called and e-mailed.  Our director even graciously met with the man who found my phone to get it back (who insisted he be paid for his finding).

Most of all, I am overwhelmed by the grace and goodness and mercy of the Lord Jesus Christ.  There is no reason we should have exited the car without horrible wounds, but He protected us.  I know my purpose here on earth is not finished and the Lord has wonderful plans.  I pray I am worthy of His calling and an instrument of His grace.  Praise God.”