Day 2- Story 1

One of my families favorite spots to get away when we lived in Kenya was a place called lake naivasha. Dad bought a small boat so that he could take Adam and I fishing. The lake has large mouth bass and tilapia. One of the best spots  to catch fish was near the Crescent Island, more of a peninsula than an island,  situated on the edge  of the lake. There were several large trees submerged in the water just off the edge of the island.  We frequently got snagged due to the intricate systems of roots, but the fishing was great! 

My brother Adam was learning how to cast in this area one day. He  successfully casts a couple of times before he announces to dad and I that he was really snagged. No big deal. This happened just about every other cast. Dad gave him the same instructions he had given me just moments previous. "Pull back on the rod really hard and see if you can pop it out." Adam obeyed. Nothing happened. So dad instructed him to pull harder. By now his pole is almost bent in two from the torque. Still nothing is happening.  

What happened next is a bit of a blur.  Suddenly, two spouts of water spray into the air some 80 to 100 feet from our boat. In a split second  everyone realizes what has happened. My brother is a better fisherman than he has ever dreamed possible. He has managed to hook a hippo in the mouth. And our new friend is not happy about it!   Dad yells "throw the pole in the water," as he races to start the engine. Adam throws the pole, dad hits the outboard motor, and I almost pass out from fear all in the same split second.   

Sadly, my  brother lost his shiny fishing pole somewhere in the bottom of lake naivasha to a hippo, but we lived to talk about it.   Now that's a real African fishing story! 

Africa Intro

My wife asked me to participate in the yearly blogrimage Africa style by writing my favorite Africa stories for the next 30 days. Over the past several decades I have lived in four different East African countries: Kenya, Tanzania, Madagascar, & Burundi.  There have been some amazing incidents, hysterical events, and fascinating lessons learned over the years.

My intention is to share a mixture of all of them.  And in the process to give a unique glimpse of what living in Africa has looked like.  The challenge for me is choosing which ones to incorporate into this month long journey.  We will start tomorrow.  

Forest pictures

The pictures from the recent forest trip via helicopter are now uploaded on FB. 

The Rain Forest

Yesterday we flew into the rainforest via helicopter. We left Tana at 8 AM. 

We landed in three small villages northeast of Antanarivo.  By air it only took about 1 hour. 
By road, it would have taken 8 by car followed by another 8 hours  on foot walking along the narrow trails.  

Five of us piled into the helicopter.  A Malagasy pastor, a Malagasy doctor, my missionary doctor colleague, a visiting business man from the US who raises money for missions projects in madagascar, and myself.  To say it was an unforgettable experience would be the understatement of 2012.  This is only the second time in my life I've actually flown in a helicopter.  

From the air the first village looked like a small cluster of huts nestled in the forested valley with several rice fields extending in either direction along the winding river.  Our pilot found the widest rice field available and gently settled the helicopter down. As he did people appeared from everywhere.  Most came running, others pointed curiously,  some stood back reluctantly watching from a safe distance.  Even the mangy dogs of the village barked in trepidation as every hair on their back bristled.  And who can blame them! A helicopter with three white people suddenly appearing in the middle of absolutely nowhere.  

We carried a small self-powered speaker so that we could communicate easily with the growing crowd of people.  Pastor Zaka introduced us, relayed the medical nature of our mission, and shared a brief Gospel presentation.   Then the hard-work began.  The sick were instructed to line up for an opportunity to consult with Dr. Fils and my dear missionary colleague doctor Aaron Santymire.  For nearly 2 hours in the scorching heat we examined some of the most precious Malagasy people I've ever seen.  Some complained of mild headaches and backaches. Others were so weak they could hardly stand. One little boy had a massive infection on the side of his face that caused his face to be completely distorted.  I searched through the medicine bags as the doctors told me what each patient required. Then we would pray for the desperately sick.   

I asked about the church.  "There is no church," came the reply.  "Where is the closest one" I asked?  "At least an 8 hour walk from here."  As far as we could tell this is  the first time the Gospel message has been announced in this village.   

After treating some fifty people we announced that we had to leave to continue to the next village.  Some thirty plus people didn't get the chance to see the doctors.  This was disheartening, but we made every effort to see the critically ill.   

Arriving in the next village we set down in a makeshift soccer field.  Again people came running from everywhere.  This time around Zaka turned to me- "your turn." I stood and shared from John 14.  Jesus is the way, the truth, and the life. I talked about the way to heaven.  I talked about the accuracy of following this way.  I finished with the experience of following this way--life and life more abundantly.  Holy Spirit moved in a special way and many raised their hands to receive Christ.  In this village, the church is strong and there is a pastor who has even been to our Bible school in Tana.  

Then came the third village.  This one was the most cut off of them all.  The people here still wear traditional clothing of vests and hats.  As we landed, Zaka asked me to preach again.  So I did. Basically, the same message as before.  However, here the spiritual resistance was very strong.  As far as we can tell this is only the second time that the Gospel has been preached here.  There is no church for this area of some  1,900 people.  

The pastor from village number 2  started a cell group here earlier this year. He has some 6 or 7 believers that gather together on Wednesday afternoons.  He walks four hours to be in attendance.   As I shared one lady, clearly one of the few believers kept shouting: "hallelujah."  Her faith was brilliant.  

Following the message, we lined up the sick and began to treat as best as we knew how and pray for the critically ill.   As we packed up the helicopter to leave the little group of believers began to sing beautiful songs of praise and worship.  Some in the crowd laughed at them.  Others looked on curiously.  To me it was a bold testimony of faith for these new believers.  

I conclude as I started by saying that it was unforgettable.   Would you please pray for this forested region of Madagascar?  Desperately in need of the light of Christ! Desperately in need of laborers.  

I will be posting pics and videos on my FB page in the days to come.  

It's Our Turn Now

Sometimes people ask me what ministry on a Sunday AM looks like in Madagascar. Good question.  Here is a brief summary of the day.

I arrived at Ampititafika at 9:00 AM.  I left my car on the street and descended through the winding neighborhood towards Pastor John's church.  I passed the little bakery cooking mofogasy (rice bread) over a fire, a charcoal depot, several open sewers, piles of garbage, several mangy dogs, and some of the most beautiful kids I've ever seen dressed mostly in rags.

Arriving at the church building, the congregation of several hundred had already assembled and the service started right away.  We sang several  choruses as the team of musicians lead us in praise.  Every window and door in the building was open and the wind whipped through the concrete building. It was so cold my body was shaking. Fortunately, I had my NorthFace jacket thanks to Matt & Grace Johnson that kept me from hypothermia.

Soon the songs transitioned to a quieter more reverent feel.  Many lifted their hands as we continued singing. There was a beautiful sense of Christ's presence.  Pastor took charge of the service after some 45 minutes and called the congregation to pray.  We lifted our voices to the Lord.  He then asked me to come forward and share the Word of God.

The message's title today was "It's Our Turn Now."   I preached on the race of faith and the upward call.  I looked at  Hebrews 11:39-12:3.  It's a beautiful passage talking about the great exploits of faith performed in the past by the heroes of the faith of the Old Testament.  They now form  a cloud of witnesses waiting to see our race of faith. They are heaven's spectators cheering us home.  Why are they so intent on our race?  God has prepared something good for those mentioned in chapter 11 only together with us!

Our race of faith has more significance than the Olympics or any race run in London the past 3 weeks.  Our race is one that will build off of the efforts of previous generations.  Likewise previous generations are depending on our race.  Together we are called to inherit the promises of God.

Thus, we are the heroes of faith in this generation.  It is our turn now.

Three verbs are given to us to help us in this race:  "throw off", "run", "fix our eyes".   I won't take time to develop the points.  However, here  they are:  We must cast off everything that hinders and the sin that entangles because it is our turn now.  We must run our race! It is our turn now.  We must look unto Jesus staying away from the distractions that pull us from Him.  It is our turn now.

Several illustrations conveyed the message:  I took off my dress shoes and put on my running shoes reiterating the importance of being ready.  I had several back-packs that I loaded myself up with to demonstrate the futility of trying to run when we are carrying sin and different hindrances.  I had a stick that I hobbled with representing the futility of trying to run when you are carrying wounds and offenses.

I concluded by challenging people to make a fresh commitment to their race of faith. No two are the same. Your race of faith is not mine; and mine is not yours.  Instead of comparing each other and being jealous or criticizing, we must actually get in the race and RUN! It's our turn now.

Many came forward to seek God at the close of the service. There was a brokenness in the room.  People wept as the forgave each other and let God heal the wounds of the past.  It was beautiful.

Somewhere near 12.00 service dismissed.  A group lingered in the back corner praying for a young lady possessed by evil spirits.  She shrieked and cried as the demons were cast out.

Pastor invited me upstairs to a hall where the church had prepared lunch.  We ate mountains of rice with some kind of a chicken veggie stir-fry and pork chops cooked with peas.  Pastor's wife knows I love squash so she had prepared a special dish just for me.   I felt so honored! Several visiting pastors sat around the table.  They were in town for the just concluded national conference for the AG.  We had a great time talking and telling stories.    

Somewhere around 2:15 I headed back towards my car.  A self-appointed watchman hit me up for money as I approached the car. I had no problem helping him out.

There you have it.

I close with this simple challenge: It's YOUR TURN NOW.  

A Season of Firsts

In the past two weeks I have experienced several things for the first time.  For example, I had crocodile meat for lunch for the first time (I've had crocodile before, but never for lunch).  I taught Daniel and Revelation (Biblical Apocalyptic Literature) in French for the first time.  I've taught this course before, but never in French. I had three days to do so.  What long, full days they were!

 I cooked my first gluten free pizza using almond flour, red rice flour, white rice flour, agar-agar, and manioc flour. It turned out really delicious in case you are wondering.  Inspired by my success with the pizza I proceeded to make peanut-butter from scratch for the first time.  I then tried my hand at Almond milk with vanilla. Yes, I am a health nerd.

I cooked lunch, dinner, and breakfast for a tanzanian missionary living here in Madagascar who needed a place to stay for the night.  This was a first to host a Tanzanian at my house here in Madagascar.

 I ran 7.5 km for the first time in my life. That's almost 5 miles. Maybe not a huge achievement for some, but a major milestone for me considering I couldn't hardly get out of bed one year ago.

 I also survived my first Malagasy coup- it lasted for about 12 hours with plenty of machine gun exchanges just a few kilometers from the house.  Yes, I have lived through many similar ones in Burundi, but this was the first time to experience the Malagasy version.  

I started learning how to use Final Cut Pro X for the first time in order to make teaching videos for the MAG.  This forced me to use a movie camera that operates off HDSD cards- also a first for me.  I really like the reverse effect by the way.  It seems like a really neat program, but I still like Adobe better.

I carried on my first ten minute conversation in Malagasy about gardening, firewood, church, and exercise. This was a major step forward linguistically after studying for all these months.   Yes, it is a season of firsts.  All of these things happened while being in Madagascar and being engaged to lovely Ms. Bailey Seng.  Yes, firsts are fun. They keep life exciting and the mind stimulated.  

Among the firsts, there is none more important than keeping our spiritual passion and fervor alive.  For me this revolves around one idea: "seek first the Kingdom".  I find that as long as the first first  among my list of firsts and lasts in any given day is to seek HIM first as the King of my life then all the other firsts find their proper place.  A surrender to His Kingdom (the rule and influence of the King) in my life  aligns my daily perspective giving me a first or predominating desire and a singular ambition: to know Him and make Him known. This must always be FIRST and FOREMOST.

Without a yearning for this  FIRST, I become FIRST. And for those who know me when I am FIRST you well know that it's not a pretty picture.  However, when He is FIRST, the fragrance and sweetness of heaven fills my heart giving me joy and enthusiasm to keep enjoying firsts as I seek to continue making Him FIRST.

Problems at the Post Office

       In the not too distant past I received a slip in the mail notifying me of the arrival of a package.  After asking my team leader about how one normally clears a  package in Madagascar, I headed off to the post office. As an after-thought, I decided to bring my language tutor along. Off we went with high hopes of collecting some wonderful care package from concerned friends in the USA loaded with delicious goodies! 

      Entering the post office we saw 3 postal employees busily talking with each other.  As I waited to be serviced, I imagined what treats might be in my parcel. Almonds? Flax seeds? Rice chips? (Yes, I am a health food nut.)   After several minutes, I realized that no one was moving in our direction. "Azafady" (excuse me) I said sure that the clerks simply hadn't noticed the 6 foot 2  white guy standing in the rather minuscule post office looking at them from close proximity. 

"How can I help you?" one of the women asked somewhat annoyed.  I turned to Manny my language tutor indicating that he should continue the conversation.  As Manny delved into the explanation for our presence, I was sure that were on the right track. A few moments later, the lady asked for the parcel slip.  I gladly turned it over to her expecting a package to be placed into my hands momentarily.  She looked at it from every possible angle before showing it to her two colleagues.  'Hmm... the package  awaiting me must be extra special...requiring several people's input.' This is going to be a good one well worth the wait! 

Surprisingly, the woman turned back to Manny and rattled off something in Malagasy for several moments.  In a very sheepish voice Manny started translating, "errr...ummm....she wants to know what this is?"  

"What do you mean?" I asked.  "It's a parcel slip." 

What kind of crazy question is that I thought to myself. Surely she must be joking. Malagasy humor or something maybe? 

"Err...she wants to know what  a parcel slip is.."Manny continued

"What?" I asked in disbelief.  What kind of post office is this I thought to myself? 

"Alright, Manny please translate for me." 

"So I received this parcel slip in our mailbox indicating that the is package waiting for me elsewhere in the post office.  And now I'm here to pick  it up." Manny translated.   The woman listened impatiently before responding. 

"We don't handle packages in the post office," came her curt response. 

"Umm..listen...I just want to pick up my package...and this is a post office" I replied.  

"That's not our postal slip. And we don't have your package......"  Her tone of voice had changed and she almost sounded belligerent. I didn't understand much of what she was saying, but I could tell it wasn't very nice.   

 "We should go now," Manny whispered as the woman continued berating us for wanting to pick up a postal package at a post office with a postal slip. 

All my hopes of some delicious treasures from a health food store in America vanished as I followed Manny out of the post office. 

I thought about how easily hope can be misplaced.  

When hope is misplaced disappointment sets in leading to any number of nasty conditions: bitterness, cynicism, trust issues, fear, worry, etc...  

Thankfully, there is one sure person who never betrays our hope.  Man will disappoint us. Organizations will fail.  Leaders will waffle. Economies will reel.  And Post Offices will ignore their mandates.  But the great news is that  Jesus never fails. He never waffles.  He is steadfast and faithful. He keeps His Word. He fulfills His promises.  He can be trusted entirely.  

Isaiah 40:31 "Those who HOPE in the LORD will renew their strength."