"I Know What He Would Do!"

10.40 AM.  Mikocheni B, Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania.   I'm standing in the foyer of a modern movie theater on Sunday morning.  Outside the sun is raging as the humidity rises.   25 kids full of way more energy than me are  all over the place.  We are attempting to help them act out 3 different Bible stories without using words. My group is reenacting the story of Zacheus-the famous tax collector. 

  I was asked to lead the children's ministry of the church that meets here at the very last minute.  Scrambling for ideas we decided that participatory Bible-story acting would be the best solution.  So-  Jesus is just about to enter Jericho with his crowd of three 6 years olds.  One of them will soon run to find Zacheus and tell him to come see Jesus.  Zach will then climb a tree- which happens to be me in this skit hoping for a brief glimpse.   

We ask one of the boys to play the part of a blind man that Jesus can heal to better illustrate to the other 2 groups of kids watching who Jesus is in the mixed group of 5 and 6 year olds.  With arms groping and eyes squeezed super tight the little guy takes off with his role of a blind guy.  I then turn to Jesus- played by a little 5 year old girl.  "Now make sure that you go up to him and......" She interrupts me very sweetly, but confidently: "I know WHAT He would DO!" 

With that she runs over to the "blind man" and stretches her hand towards his eyes.  As "Jesus'" hand touches his eyes, I have to fight back tears.  There is something in the way she so clearly and eagerly showed me what Jesus would do that shakes me.  She intuitively sensed that when need encountered the Son of God- transformation must take place.  Immediately, the blind man recovers his sight leaving Zach awed, but I am too.  How does a little 5 year old know so well what so few have yet to grasp?

   Would we have interrogated him?   Or possibly given him some coins?  Maybe Some sympathy? Then on with our day?  Or possibly a self-righteous: "Get out of the way blind guy- Jesus is coming."   Or worse- maybe ignored him completely?  Or resented him for brining deformed humanity into Jesus' holy parade?    But the 5 year old in Dar Es Salaam reminded me once again that real compassion is stirred into ACTION!  Real compassion moves us from the inside to say: "Wait just a minute! I Know WHAT He Would Do!"   

I don't know about you, but I want to know WHAT HE WOULD DO!  And then like that little girl I want to DO IT!  The right word for the right time.  A Spirit-lead touch to the hurting. A prayer that penetrates the heart.  Healing for the sick and broken.  Oh God help us be like your Son Jesus- a man of action for hurting people.  

An Unexpected Zanzibari Taxi-Ride

Arriving into Zanzibar during the fading moments of the afternoon I met my taxi driver.  A bright young man full of life and energy, he quickly engaged me in conversation.  His English, however, only took him past the basic greetings and questions.  He was wearing a sleek T-Shirt and an islamic prayer cap.  He threw my bag in the mini-van and started off across the island with a very care-free smile.   

Some 5 minutes into the ride he asked me what I did in his best broken English.  "I'm a pastor" I replied without much thought.  "Where?" he asked with interest.  "Here in Tanzania" I answered.   "Do you speak Swahili?" his eyes pleaded.   I jumped into the conversation with Swahili eager to practice my Tanzanian Swahili. 

This young taxi-driver came alive telling me all about his family, life on the island, his adventures to the mainland, and even into Kenya, his love for Zanzibar, special places to visit, foods,  etc....  I was really enjoying his up-beat, detailed narration of his life and Zanzibar. Then came the question that threw me totally off-guard.   "What kind of pastor are you?"  "Errr.....what do you mean?" I asked this lively young Muslim taxi-driver.  "What do you preach?" 

The intensity of the question puzzled me.  What followed was 10 minutes of Holy Spirit directed conversation regarding the love of God, eternity, etc.... He seemed satisfied with my preaching doctrine, when suddenly I felt that nudging of the Spirit- 'ask him if he's born again'... I began to argue with the prompting...he's a Muslim....he's liable to go ballistic on me....'ask him if he's born-again'  

"My friend, are you born again?" I asked him gently.  He suddenly became very quiet and surprisingly answered "no not yet, but I think soon I will be."  We talked along these lines for another 15 minutes- about Jesus, about salvation, about knowing with conviction that you will go to heaven, etc...   He didn't receive Christ before the end of the drive, but he is so very close.  

Interestingly, we had an almost repeat conversation with a Muslim waiter the next day and with another Muslim taxi driver who took us back to the airport.  Such openness.  Such hunger for God. God is doing something in this place.  Across Tanzania I'm told that this is the case.  People are asking questions about God, about faith, about life, about truth. 

Would you pray for this land?  Would you pray that many  would come to know Christ this year? That many would decide to give their lives to Christ. That many would say- "yes I want to be born again."  And that I would be sensitive enough to the Spirit to hear and obey his inner promptings. 

From Burundi to Tanzania

As most of you already know, I had to leave Burundi 3 weeks ago to move to Tanzania.  This has been a very difficult period in my life. One that has left me with many unanswered questions. However, God has been extremely faithful. And I know that He still has a great plan for that little nation and for my life and ministry.  After much reflection, I wanted to share a few of my favorite memories and experiences from living in Burundi.  

#10- Baptism in Nyabihanga.  Jerome Ndayisaba and I had the chance to baptize 88 people in the frigid waters of a little river outside Nyabihanga in Mwaro- one of the least evangelized places in all of Burundi.  I shook for the rest of the day from the cold and ended up catching the flu! But what a way to get sick! 

#9- My parents visit to Burundi this past April.  My dad helped us build the tabernacle for the new church in Ngozi while my mom preached at the first ever Women's Ministries Conference.  They loved Burundi! 

#8-The mud-slide on the road back from Nyanza.  Many of you read the story last November of when Balela and I suddenly faced over a meter of mud flowing across the highway on our way back to Buja. We slid through the mud in 4wheel drive first gear as people dived left and right to get out of our way! It was incredible. 

#7-April 16th, 2008- the day the FNL rebels made their last assault on Buja.  For over 8 hours the skies lit up with mortars, rockets, and machine gun fire.  It was the most tense situation I have ever been in.  God demonstrated His faithfulness to me in a very dangerous time. 

#6-The Widdifield and Toller visit in October 2008.  We had a great pastoral seminar and an incredible service in Gatumba.  I will never forget the singing and dancing that night after pastor Doug preached- it was incredible. The joy on those people's faces was contagious. 

#5- The opportunity to help facilitate the construction of 20 tabernacles across Burundi with the Mike Shaeffer teams.  My favorite one was Gitega.  One of the main trusses almost bent in half while we were raising it.  It looked like an absolute disaster.  Today the church is running over 130 people! Through just those 20 churches we impacted well over a 1000 people for Christ. 

#4- Eating Burundian food at Alberic Ndayizeye's house with his family.  Rice-umeceri, bananas-igitokes, eggplant-itore, beans-ibiharage, potatoes-ibiraya, etc.... Always prepared to perfection!  We had great times of laughing, praying, and talking about life in Burundi and Jesus! He helped me so much in learning about Burundi. 

#3- My times with Chris Ngendakumana.  We had some of the best prayer times I've ever experienced crying out for Burundi, the church, our future ministries, lives etc... I will never forget the two times I was able to preach at his church and seeing people weeping at the altar as they cried out to God for revival in Burundi and the salvation of their friends.  The brother eats, drinks, and sleeps the message of Prayer. 

#2-Preaching on the streets of Bujumbura with Olivier Hazikimana with no sound equipment.  Just us and two chains in our hands to illustrate our message.  I've never been so nervous in my entire life, yet at the same time so blown away to see God moving in such a powerful way on the streets of a very wicked city saving lost people!  We would have crowds of people stopping on their way through town to hear what the "umuzungu" had to say. 

#1- The pastors' conferences at Kamenge with all of the BAGF pastors.  I will never forget preaching and praying for the pastors there.  They are the future of the work of God in that country.  In particular, I remember preaching, in my opinion, the most powerful message I've ever preached "It's Time to Get Your Hands Up" and seeing God move in such a glorious way.  

And last but not least, playing soccer with my friends like Pepe, Antonio, Matt, Paul, etc.. many of whom still don't know Christ, but God gave me so many chances to share Jesus with them.  I believe that soon and very soon they will come into the Kingdom! 

So many incredible memories! I believe many lives  were changed and impacted during my 2 years there.  Thank you so much to everyone who prayed and sacrificially gave to make it possible! Hopefully, God will open the door soon for me to be able to return.  

The God of the 2nd Chance

Dereck walked into church two weeks ago to give his life to the Lord.  He is 16 years old and has lived the past several months of his life on the streets of Nairobi.  His arms and legs are covered with painful boils from an unchecked bacterial infection.  His frame is slender and lean from not properly eating.   He ran away from home several months ago.  This was due to some serious complications at school and deep emotional wounds: His mother died several years ago and his father abandoned him at birth.  

An uncle was attempting to help the young man as best as he could.  However, their relationship became strained so Dereck plotted his escape from his  home-town of Kangaria to make his way to the promise of the big city- Nairobi.   There he was sorely disappointed with the harsh reality of survival on the streets and narrowly escaped with his life on several occasions.  While begging for roasted corn from a vendor at an intersection near down-town, he was told about a church where people could help him.  On Sunday morning, my dear friend Benson Sereria (the former Hare Krishna evangelist) lead him in the sinner's prayer as he surrendered his life to Christ.  

Sach, the assistant pastor at this church decided to help him get back in school.  So we all piled into a small car and drove to Kangaria to try and find the uncle.  We expected to find a very angry and bitter man who wanted nothing to do with Dereck since his recent escapade.   Much to our shock, the uncle was elated to have the "prodigal" of their extended family return.  

As we shared who we were and what we were trying to accomplish, a sweet presence of the Lord filled the living room. Repeatedly, the uncle said: "thank God Dereck fell in with you guys and not Mungiki (a tribalistic gang involved in the occult actively recruiting all over Kenya)". 

  By the end of our time there, I don't think there was a dry eye in the house. The relationship between uncle and nephew was restored.  The opportunity to learn was re-established.  The shame of a family was removed.  The sins of the past were buried.  And through it all- we all witnessed a living testimony of the God of the second chance.  A God who rescues young men from the streets of Nairobi.  A God who keeps us in spite of foolishness.  A God who uses street corn roasters to draw lost people to Himself.  A God who loves wayward and hurting people! 

The Tide is Rising

  Easter Sunday in Buja.  Church is packed almost to overflowing.  At some point during the worship time, the rain started.  A drizzle at first.  Soon, however, the floodgates open.  The only word in English equivalent to the torrential downpour occuring outside is deluge. 

            The rain is hitting the corrugated roof with such force that I can’t hear the pastor some 30 feet away through a massive sound system.  The soundman increases the gain until the speakers are humming and the sound-system straining.  To no avail- he might as well be a pantomime even though he is shouting at the top of his lungs into the microphone.

            An hour later, I look into parking lot to see at least 6 inches of water on the ground.  The rain continues with such force that it is impossible to see further than 10 feet.  The parking lot quickly rises to a foot.  Pastor decides it would be a good idea to close the service.  Too late. It's rising quickly. The water suddenly begins pouring into the sanctuary.

            Absolute pandemonium erupts! “Save the soundboard” cries one.  “The speakers-lift them off the ground” shouts another.  And it's still rising. “Help my shoes are getting wet” cries the pastor’s wife.  Two hundred people are running all over the place trying to find higher ground.  And it's still rising.  Stacking plastic chairs on top of each other they quickly build little towers to climb up on in order to escape the rising water.

            By 12.30 the water is almost a meter deep in the parking lot and well over a foot in the sacturary.  And still rising.  I can’t resist anymore. I run out into the floodwaters to fetch my camera (see the pics on FB). I almost get swept away by the torrent raging in the street on what has to be the most memorable Easter service I have been part of.

            Last night I read from Isaiah 60:  “the Glory of the Lord rises upon you…see darkness covers the earth and thick darkness is over the peoples, but the LORD rise upon you and His glory appears over you.”  

Without question thick and terrible spiritual darkness covers the naitons of the earth.  The promise here, however,  is that God is going to send a GLORY flood into His people’s lives- His presence, His power, and His provision to reach these nations with the Light (v. 3).  My prayer and cry is: "Oh Lord let it rise in my life and in your church!"

            

When Generators Go Boom

Power rationing has been affecting many people in Burundi over the last 4 months.  The electricity is cut at the most random times and returned at even more random moments in the day or night.   Burundians are increasingly turning to generators if they can afford them.   Traditionally, however, it is candles and paraffin lanterns.  

Recently, the power went off at a certain organization's offices late in the evening.  They were prepared as they had been relying on generator power over the past few months.   Two of workers were sent to check the level of fuel remaining in the generator.  There was only one small problem- how to see into the generator's fuel tank.  Following a good traditional practice one of the workers decided that candle light would do the trick quite nicely.  

The other objected muttering something about fire and fuel being somewhat dangerous.  "Nonsense" came his friends response. "I won't stick the candle into the tank...I'll just use its light to look INTO the tank".   Somewhat reluctant the other worker stood a few feet back.  

Apparently, it didn't take but two seconds as the fumes ignited and the whole generator erupted into flames.  The intense Burundian darkness was no longer quite so dark. The poor chap holding the candle received 3rd degree burns, but came away with a valuable lesson:  "Fire + Fuel= Explosion.” And explosions of light have a way of eliminating darkness.  They accomplished their goal- just not in the right way.

As I heard this story I started thinking about that verse in Hebrews: “Our God is a consuming fire”.  I think it was Jim Elliot who used to pray: “make me thy fuel oh flame of God”.  Another man mightily used of God used to say “if God had HIS way with us, He would make us torches of fire purifying the very darkness everywhere we went”  My prayer is that God would ignite my heart with His holy fire like never before to drive back the forces of darkness.  What about you?

The Casava Conservationists

Casava is bigger than life in Burundi.  In most neighboring countries a few people eat the root when nothing else in available.  But not in Burundi- here it is a prize delicacy! People sell it on the sides of the road at the bus stands in just about every imaginable form- cooked, baked, fermented, boiled, raw. 

Yep-  just about anything goes when it comes to Casava.  Casava for breakfast, casava with deep-fried fish, casava with spinach, casava with beans, and casava just for casava's sake simply so one can say that they ate casava that day with a good cup of Burundian tea! 

This week we purchased a piece of land to be used as the site for a new church building we hope to build next month.  The congregation of about 50 people have been meeting in one of the most dilapidated houses I have ever seen.  They are so excited about having their own piece of land with a steel tabernacle on it to be used as their sanctuary. 

We requested the members of the church to begin leveling the land so that we could lay the foundations.   There was great excitement to begin the work! As they started to clear the land- several irate Burundians suddenly showed up to cause trouble.   The  former watchman of the piece of land was the primary instigator.  Shouting and carrying on a scene he made it clear that no one was doing anything until the casava that had been planted was harvested! 

By the time I heard the story it had become quite a complicated scenario.  The former owner was screaming and yelling in good Burundian fashion in our head office that if we wanted to clear the casava we would have to pay his former watchman compensation money.  I was totally confused so I asked: "who owns the land now?"  "the church does of course!" came the response.  "err...help me in my state of ignorance and naivety....doesn't that mean we can do whatever we want with the land?"  "Oh no! Of course not, this is casava we're talking about!!"  

And so the battle for casava conservation continues to rage just south of the city on a piece of land that I think we own, but apparently can't touch.....so that a former disgruntled employee can have a share of his casava harvest.  

Absurd?  Oh yeah....totally absurd! (I'm still shaking my head on this one).   However, as I thought about it more, I was struck by this  former night watchman's courage and persistence to have a share in the casava harvest.   He knows what's valuable- at least in Burundi! And he's willing to do just about anything to make sure that it will be his. 

 And I have to ask myself: "am I that eager to have a share of the Lord's valuable harvest?"  We're dealing with something of far greater value than casava- ours is the business of men's souls.  Their eternal destiny is at stake.  John 4:24 comes to mind: "Do you not say 4 months more and then the harvest?" Jesus is trying to help his disciples understand what's really important.   A whole village is ready to receive Christ. It is the day of harvest.  My heart's cry today is "oh God give us passion for your harvest no matter the cost!"