Being Back

    One of the strangest parts of going abroad is coming back. This is the time when you find yourself a stranger eventhough you're at home.  For Jen and I, here are a few of the impressions we've had in coming back to the U.S. from Africa:
      >  America is so spoiled!  The other day Nathanael invited some friends into the house to get a drink of water.  He was so proud to show them that you can drink the water, right from the tap.  His friends weren't that impressed.  Running hot water on demand, clean filtered water in the taps, food, food, food everywhere you turn and without worries of it making you sick, paved roads, large parking spaces, garbage trucks and mailmen, Walmarts, high speed wireless internet...I almost cried the first time I got on the internet; Jen had the same reaction the first time she did laundry.  Everything is so easy and convenient! Don't get me wrong, I love it.  But the fact of the matter is that none of us in the West should ever complain.  We have it so easy.
     >  Everyone looks the same.  Everywhere I go, I feel like I should know people.  In Guinea we were living the small town life where you know someone everywhere you go, but here I feel like everyone around me looks really familiar because they're all white, Americans.  Furthermore, I look the same.  I guess I got used to the super star status we enjoyed in Africa--everyone staring and pointing at us, calling out to us as we walk by, clamoring for our attention, running up for a high five or a hug.  Back stateside, I know I'm different from everyone else, having lived abroad and experienced another part of the world, but no one around me seems to notice it.  To the naked eye I'm just regular Joe.  But I don't want to be regular Joe.  I've learned and experienced so much, I just can't fit back into "regular" society.
     >  Safe!  I didn't realize the tension that had built up from always being on guard.  Especially towards the end of our time, I was always looking out for potential threats and hazards to our health:  Will we get sick if we rinse our toothbrush in the sink?  Will the kids catch malaria if they play in the backyard?  Am I safe sleeping without insect repellent?  Can I let Abi crawl around the floor without getting some kind of rash?  Can I try the food at the local stand?  Did we disenfect the apples before eating them?  Our bodies are definitely still readjusting, working out some the symptoms we've acquired abroad:  skin problems, stomach issues, etc.  But it's so nice to feel safe again.  Even on the airplane I felt such relief in being able to ingest things without thinking about what consequences might result.  And now that we're back, I'm going to the opposite extreme, eating food that's fallen on the floor or fruits and veggies right out of the bag.  I'm so relaxed about everything because things here are so much more sanitary and safe.  We have quite the horror stories to share when it comes to unsanitary conditions that everything here feels like living in a hospital.

    As predicted, I'm finding myself much more quiet and pensive.  I even had to force myself to write down this post, feeling more the need and desire to withdraw into myself rather than try to share it with others.  I guess it's due to fear that no one will understand, that others can't understand what I myself am having a hard time wrapping my mind around.  So more than anything this journal entry is an attempt to try to unravel what I'm going through.  There's a LOT more to process and discuss, the emotions of family dynamics, job security vs. vacation time just to name a couple, but at least this is a start.  It will be interesting to see how it all plays out, and what kind of person and family we become through it all.  One thing is for sure, we are not the same as when we left, at least for now...  

Made it!

Just fyi, we made it back to the U.S. safely.  Our trip was very smooth.  Abi had some diarrhea issues throughout the whole trip but maintained a cheerful disposition.  The kids slept on most of our flights.  We watched lots of movies.  And now we're back, excited to have hot water, sleep in a real bed and not be sweaty all the time.

Thanks for all your prayers for our journey.  God was faithful to answer them all.  He is a good God.

Misc. and Malaria

     This last month has been really busy so I’m going to summarize using bullet points.

Ø  May 10-11—Homeschool Beach Trip.  We took 12 kids from different missionary families on a camping trip to the beach, a conclusion to our monthly homeschool meetings.

Ø  May 17—Last day of swimming plus Pablo’s birthday party at the pool.  Jesse was diving down to the bottom of the pool.

Ø  May 18—Children’s Ministry Training.  I did a training for 20 leaders from 3 different churches in Sangaredi.  This was part two to the training I had given earlier in the year.

Ø  May 25—Soccer Team Beach Day.  Andres and I drove the champions out to Bel Air beach as an end of the year celebration.  Our host cooked us fish and rice.  We played soccer on the beach and nearly sunk a boat.  The boys had a great time!

Ø  May 29—Andrew and Jen’s 9^th wedding anniversary.  I cooked pancakes and bacon (Jen’s favorite and a rare treat in Guinea).  On the 31^st the Galvez babysat for us and we went out to eat in Kamsar.  We also did grocery shopping.  Very romantic!

Ø  June 1^st—Hannah Jensen’s graduation party in Tarensa.  We joined the other missionary families for one last get together, celebrating one of the missionary girls’ completion of her high school courses.  We also played volleyball.

Ø  June 7^th—Last day of school.  Having already finished all our exams and packed up the school the day before, we canceled class and let the kids sleep in (the teachers got to sleep in too!).  We concluded the year with a celebration lunch for the whole school, the parents, and our helpers. 

Ø  June 9^th—Farewell Church Service.  From 9 to 11:30 we had a nice short service (I gave the sermon).  Then from 11:30 to 1 there was a formal goodbye ceremony, including speeches from the Boke, Sangaredi, and Kamsar pastors and the 3 heads of the missionary families (Cees, Andres, and I).  There were also gifts, songs, and official goodbye certificates.  Following this we then went up to the pastor’s house for a goodbye lunch.  The people were extremely generous and appreciative despite the fact that we have only been here one year and the Galvez and Snetselaar’s are planning on returning.

Ø  June 10-12—Packing up.  We have almost everything packed up already and Fatim is helping clean the house.  Yesterday Saliou also hosted a soccer “gala” in our honor.  I scored two goals (one was counted offsides) and our team won 2-1(should have been 3-0). 

Ø  June 16^th—Departure.  Only a few days left now and we’ll be heading out.  Here is our itinerary:

§  Boke to Conakry, departing June 16^th at 11 a.m.

§  Conakry to Brussels (with a stop in Dakar, Senegal).

§  Brussels to Chicago

§  Chicago to Seattle, arriving June 17^th at 5:30 p.m.

o   Total Travel Time: approx. 38 hours.

o   Total Time Change:  8 hours difference.

o   Total Exhaustion Level:  150%

     It’s crazy that our Guinean adventure is finally ending.  It’s been an amazing year.  What a great experience.  I have no words to sum everything up.  I hope the blog this year is enough to capture an overall taste of what it’s been like.  I’m sure I’ve left out plenty, but it’s the best I could do.

     Thanks to all of you who have followed the blog and prayed for us.  As we finish up we ask for your continued prayers for the following:

          Pray for smooth and safe travels as we fly to the U.S.

          Pray for an easy transition back into U.S. culture.

Pray for God’s provision and direction for a job, a home, a church, and schools.

Pray for God’s continued work in our lives and amongst the people of Guinea, especially the Jahango people group.

     I’ll try to update with a couple more posts as we land in the U.S. and figure out what we’re doing next.  Thanks so much for all your support.  May God’s peace and blessings be over your lives as well!  Praise be to God!

p.s.  After having written this post I contracted a pretty severe case of malaria.  After having passed out in the Dr’s office, I spent about four hours in the clinic hooked up to an IV.  I’m now on three different kinds of medicine.  I’m feeling a lot better than I did yesterday but am still not 100%.  Thanks to all of you praying.  Please keep praying.  I really need to be at full strength for our long travel home, and we really need the whole family to be healthy.  Thank you!

     It seems we’re being hit with all the hard stuff right before we leave.  It first started with feelings of loneliness and isolation—the feeling that everyone has forgotten us.  Mostly it’s been due to the fact that we hardly hear from anyone anymore, and have only been getting junk mail.  Second our internet and phone connections have been going wonky.  That means they’re even more unreliable and frequently cut out on us for days at a time (which partially accounts for not hearing from anybody).  Third, Jen has some kind of fungus on her back, I have weird hives, and Abi’s heat rash has come back.  And though the rainy season has come back, bringing with it strong winds and cloud cover, it’s also brought back the high humidity which makes the already high heat really sticky and sweaty.  Oh, and we’ve also caught colds (seems ironic considering the heat).

     Still, other than feeling icky most of the time, I would say we’re pretty optimistic and positive.  Mostly I know we’re excited for our return to the states and Panama (we leave in three weeks), eager to be back on friendly soils again and to see friendly faces again.  It’s amazing how fast time has flown by.  10 months ago we were speaking in church, asking people to pray for us to have safe travels and protection to Guinea.  Now we’re at the tail end of it all, asking people to pray for safe travels and protection home.  It’s been an amazing journey.  God has done and is continuing to do so much (even as we speak some of the elders and young men of Correrah are meeting with Andres, having recently seen the Jesus film.  They are asking if that is why the team is really in Correrah.  We weren’t the ones to show the film, but people are finally putting the pieces together).  These are exciting times for our family, for the team, and for the Jahango people.  Along with the excitement come plenty of challenges and tests (such as the fact that we’re still praying for a job for next year), but God is definitely at work.

     Please continue to pray for us.  Pray for our family:  God’s provision and protection as we head back to the U.S.  Pray for our team:  continued clarity and direction, protection and provision for their furloughs and future ministry.  Pray for the Jahango:  God’s revelation to penetrate their hearts, convince them of their need for Jesus, and bring them to repentance and faith in Him.  Thank you for your prayers!!!!  

We’ve been doing swimming for P.E.  Every Friday we pack up the school early and drive out to Kamsar.  This has been a nice end to our week, and a great way to beat the heat.  One of the greatest things about this, though, has been Jesse.  Jesse is 8 years old, somewhat tall for his age, but has been deathly afraid of the pool.  He’s happy to swim around in the baby pool, but refuses to get in the big pool, in spite of the fact that his four year old, pint-sized brother is a daredevil in the pool.

  For the past three weeks he’s been telling his mom on Thursday nights that he’s too sick to go to school the next day.  I believe he probably was sick from anxiety, but nothing beyond that.  Then when we would arrive at the pool, he always had this look of anguish on his face and would nearly always begin to cry.  This was all rather ridiculous, because he’s a decent swimmer and the lessons always end joyfully with Jesse swimming around, diving for objects at the bottom and staying in the water well past the lesson time.

     But yesterday was the greatest. We knew we had reached a breakthrough when he arrived at school excited for swim lessons, without any sign of sickness or worry.  During our swim time he successfully swam the whole length of the pool without any help.  Then to top it all off, we were able to convince him to jump off the diving board in the deep end, and he loved it.  Our time ended with Jesse jumping off in a big karate kick jump, a big smile on his face, just as his mom walked in. Corinne was thrilled and shocked to see him so happy.  

     It’s a small thing to be sure, but these kinds of victories make teaching worthwhile.  We’re grateful God has allowed us to be a blessing in helping these kids this year.  The greatest blessing is being used by God.  If only our neighbors saw us as a blessing too…our mission would be complete.

     Our neighbor ladies are mad at us…again.  On Wednesday last week, in the middle of the school day, one of the ladies went into our yard and started picking mangoes off our tree.  They have their own mango tree, plus there are three other trees on our property that we allow them to pick from freely.  But this mango tree has the best mangoes, and it happens to be behind the fence that separates our yard from the other residents on the property.  This has been the barrier we have established to keep some measure of privacy and to try to reduce the risk of having things stolen from us.  It’s been there all along, and no one has ever had a problem with it.  Yet on this particular day, Jen happened to intercept the lady as she was taking mangoes from the tree behind the fence.  Jennifer says the woman seemed embarrassed as she smiled and walked off the property, mangoes in hand.  Just as Jen was explaining this to me, walking out of the school for lunch, we caught the lady’s sister doing the same thing.  So I walked over and asked her to please stay out of our back yard.  That’s when things got ugly.

     The woman started ranting and raving, literally shouting at me.  It’s important to note that these particular ladies shout a lout.  They shout at our neighbors, they shout at the girls, they shout at each other.  They seem to always be angry about something.  And today it was our turn.  At first they started yelling out that the mango trees belong to them.  Their descendants planted the trees, therefore they should have access to them.  Then they started telling me (remember this is all shouting) that they had always treated me like family, that despite our differences in skin color we were the same family, and I shouldn’t treat my family like this.  Then they began yelling out that we were always mean to them, never did anything for them, were rude, never visited them or greeted them, etc…  The women even tried to tell me that the Bible says we are not allowed to keep people out of our yards.

During this whole time I tried calmly to reason with them (I know, dumb mistake).  I tried to explain that we’ve always tried to be nice, allowing them to come into our compound to get water, do laundry, etc.  I explained that we were fine with them taking mangoes from the three other trees.  I explained that I didn’t even mind her taking mangoes from this tree, as long as they would ask for permission first.  I told them that the landlord had given us permission to lock all the gates to the property, and that everything inside the compound belonged to us, even if we wanted it the other house on the property.  I also questioned the ladies’ sense of family, seeing as they have tried to sell us bananas they picked from our own yard, they regularly make fun of us and call us Foté (white-man), and they never come and greet us, as they say we should do with them.  I was going to remind them of the bread we often buy them, the Christmas gifts we gave them, and the kindness we show to their girls, but I simply couldn’t get a word in.  The women were just too loud.

    Now all of this also happened to occur at the same time that our team was having a rather important meeting with the New Tribes Field Leadership Team (FLT).  Of course they couldn’t help but hear all the shouting and came out to see what was going on.  Immediately the ladies buttered up to Cees and started repeating all the insulting things they had said to us.  They also greeted a couple of the FLT members and began accusing us in front of them.  I felt so ashamed and embarrassed.  What an awful missionary I must be, causing all kinds of problems with the neighbors, totally culturally insensitive, etc. 

     Thankfully when we went inside, everyone on the team, FLT included, told us this was very cultural.  In fact they indicated their surprise that we hadn’t had a blow out like this yet.  Since this is a shame culture, people defend themselves when they are guilty by passing the blame and inventing lies and rumors to make the other person look like the bad guy.  Interestingly enough, our house helpers also told us that they believed the women were clearly in the wrong.  They told us no one in Guinea would ever walk into someone’s yard and take fruit from them without asking first, especially when there’s a fence.

      For a whole week the women stayed mad at us.  They ignored us when we waved or said hello.  They refused to accept gifts of bread.  They tried their best to make us feel bad in every way.  If it weren’t for the fact that we were rather glad they weren’t in our yard as much, I think it would have worked.  We felt bad that they were mad at us.  We felt incompetent as missionaries, to have offended our neighbors over a few mangoes.  And we felt horrible that these women are completely closed off from receiving anything else from the Christians, let alone hearing about Jesus.  But the truth is (I feel a little guilty saying it), they are really difficult women to live with, and I also felt rather happy they weren’t bothering us anymore. 

     Still, in an effort to maintain peace and harmony, to repair bridges and to ease my conscience, this past Sunday I went over with a bag of mangoes as a peace offering.  It just so happens at that exact moment, the ladies had laid out literally hundreds of mango shreds, drying in the sun.  They clearly didn’t need ours.  No matter, I forged on and went directly over to the woman I had had the conflict with.  “I’ve brought a bag of mangoes from our tree for you,” I said with as big a smile as I could muster. 

“Non!” was the reply. 

“You’re still mad at us?” I mused soothingly.  Nothing. 

“Come on, you can’t stay mad at us forever.  It will make you sick,” I continued jokingly.

“I still can’t believe you would treat us like that,” was her reply.

“But why?  What did I really do?” I cooed at her.  “Listen, all I want is for us to live in peace and harmony.  Let’s forget this whole thing and move.  Forgive me, please.”  Rather quickly she broke down and accepted my peace offering and smiled. 

     Just then the other sister walked out and started shouting (again) at her sibling for having given in so easily.  I couldn’t help but laugh as I walked away.  Thankfully the women now respond to me when I greet them.  They’re still trying hard to be angry, but they’re at least a little friendlier.  It still baffles me that people can live like this, hoping to gain something by holding a grudge.  Yet they do this to each other on a regular basis.  And the crazy thing is that it works.  People here can’t bear to be ostracized and shunned.  Their status depends very much on how much people around them like them.  For this reason, sadly, most relationships are very superficial and selfishly motivated.  You maintain your connections with people mostly to maintain your status in the community.  If people don’t like you, they gossip about you and then you lose your place of importance or value.

     As Christians it is so comforting to know that our value does not depend on pleasing fickle human beings, but instead on pleasing a constant, loving God, full of grace and mercy, justified by the blood of His Son.  And, in His case, there is nothing more or less we can do to gain or lose His favor.  His love is unconditional.  If only we could learn to love each other like that, what kind of society would we have?  A perfect one, I suppose.  One that’s a lot more like the Kingdom’s, that’s for sure.

Champions

     The finals for the soccer tournament were supposed to happen last Sunday.  Due to a death in one of the Correrah families, we had to postpone the game to Thursday.  Finally the big day arrived, and my team was able to take the field.  We were up against the Baralande players, who happen to be my neighbors, and also the team that tried to play illegal players in some of the previous games. So there was quite a bit of controversy surrounding this team, and we were a little nervous about their fans getting ugly and causing problems.

     Thankfully the game went off without a hitch.  Perhaps it was fortunate that it happened on a Thursday, for there weren’t as many spectators, and people seemed more subdued.  It also helped that Andres had roped off the entire field, creating a barrier between the fans and the pitch, and that he had invited some members of the local police force to attend and supervise.

     Local tournaments here always begin and end with lots of fanfare.  It is customary to hook up a big sound system, blast loud music, and listen to commentaries from an obnoxious emcee.  It’s also important to invite and introduce as many “dignitaries” from the neighboring communities.  Our tournament featured the chef de quartier, the youth soccer director (though there are no youth soccer leagues of any kind), and the son of the local imam.  After several speeches, the most dignified person then kicks off the ball (like the first pitch in baseball), and the game begins.  At the opening match Jennifer was the one chosen to give the kick off.  She was totally embarrassed and confused.  It was great! 

     Thankfully the community elder was present for the finals, so Jen didn’t have to do it again.  And since the tournament was being organized by the church, we also had a former Muslim share his testimony.  Though brief and rather general, it was a perfect message for the occasion.  The speaker quickly told of his search for the true God, having felt the need to have greater assurance for his salvation (something Islam cannot offer).  He then attested to the fact that He found that assurance in Jesus Christ, and he encouraged all the young people to search for God while there was still time. 

     Finally the match started.  Almost right away our team gained control of the ball, passing up the field with expert precision—what can I say?  They had a great coach!  Though unsuccessful, they had several close shots on goal:  Nico hit the crossbar twice on free kicks, Beckham hit the post once, and several shots were either saved by the keeper or went wide.  The opposing team seemed to struggle to contain us, placing several defenders on Beckham, our lead striker and top scorer of the tournament, which left them unable to generate much offense.  They did have several close counter attacks, but they all ended with missed shots, or players off-sides.  Any shots that were on target were easily saved by our keeper.  The first half ended 0-0.

     The second half looked pretty much the same.  F.C. Savanné dominated the ball but couldn’t seem to get it in the net.  F.C. Baralande kept shooting long, desperate shots, rushing back on defense to try to contain our forwards.  Finally, the tension broke when Nico placed a pass right through the middle, Beckham sprinted past a defender, squared himself for the shot, and landed it solidly in the left-hand corner.  The keeper was completely helpless.  GOOOOAAAAL!  Fans and players alike rushed onto the field, and the opposition hung their heads. 

     Though there were still 20 minutes to play, the game was over.  Our team continued to pressure their defense, and their team continued to play frantic offense.  The game ended 1-0, though it seemed we had won by a lot more. 

     Throughout the whole awards ceremonies, our players beamed with joy, ecstatic that all their hard work had finally paid off.  We were by far the most well trained team, and in the end the results showed it.  For me too it was a proud moment, being able to clearly see the improvement of our players and the difference I was able to make in their lives.  Though I wouldn’t let them, originally our players wanted to call our team F.C. (football club) Andrew.  My hope is that whenever they remember this moment, they will remember a loving coach who also taught them about Jesus.  In a society void of positive, male role models, I’m hopeful the impact will go deep, and I’m grateful God allowed me the honor of playing this role.  Please pray for our team, Nico’s friends, that God would reveal Himself to them and draw them into His grace and love. 

        

Soccer Fever

The past couple weeks have been all about soccer.  Every year the church asks Andres to help them organize a tournament for the kids and youth.  Of course he agrees to it, especially since his sons end up being a part of it.  But soccer in Guinea is extremely intense and political.

     I had my first taste of this when I played on our neighborhood’s team last month.  I thought I was being asked to be part of the team to play, when in reality the team mostly wanted me to supply equipment for them.  At the first game, after a speech from the elder about soccer bringing us together in the spirit of peace and unity, there were riots because of a bad call made by the referee.  Initially he called for a penalty.  Then the fans rushed the field in protest, so he reversed his decision, after which the fans from the other team rushed the field.  It ended with the match being annulled, and I didn’t ever get to play. 

     I did get the chance to play in the following game, for about twenty minutes, but I got the impression that I was only playing because I was the “token white player who provided the balls for the team.”  The other thing I realized is that as the only white player, everything I did was multiplied by a factor of ten.  If I did something good, everyone thought it was amazing.  If I did something bad, everyone thought I was absolutely horrible.  Even the ref shared these sentiments, calling a foul on me for every tiny bit of contact, but refusing to give me the penalty when I was tackled in the box, about to score a goal.  And I’m talking American football tackle, not just soccer tackle.  Not only that but everyone wanted to know why I didn’t score a goal, even though our team was scoreless, and I didn’t even play a full half of the game.  After this I didn’t bother showing up to any more games.  As I was saying, soccer is very intense and very political. 

     During the kids’ tournament, the big deal has been checking the players’ ages.  The tournament is supposed to be for kids and youth 14 and under.  The difficulty is that they don’t give out birth certificates in Guinea, and no one keeps track of their birthdays.  So kids here don’t usually know their exact ages.  They usually guess their approximate age whenever the parents feel like enrolling them in school, but not everyone starts school at the same age.  Andres also explained that teams here will stack the teams with older kids and keep adding older, and older ones the closer the team gets to the playoffs and finals.  Last year’s final was basically a match between college age players. 

     So this year Andres came up with a system of registration and pictures, to identify the players who would be eligible to play.  During a preliminary meeting, two weeks prior to the start of the tournament, he had the coaches look over each team to protest any players they thought might be too old.  Then he took pictures of each player, accompanied by their name and approximate age, and printed off a color page for the games.  Before each game and before any substitutions, he checks the players to his picture on the page.

     This system has worked pretty well, except that we have had teams try to sneak on illegal players.  One team tried to substitute one player with his older brother.  We caught this pretty quickly, but missed another illegal substitution for a player who looked similar enough to the picture but couldn’t seem to remember his own name.  When the mistake was later discovered, the team had to forfeit the game.  This was the same team who mysteriously had four new coaches the day of the first game.  We don’t know if these men imposed their will on the kids or if the kids asked for their help, but it was clear that they had never worked with the kids and were simply trying to get their neighborhood to win (hence the new players on the team, players, I might add, who weren’t even from the same neighborhood).

     But it’s not just the coaches creating drama and suspicion.  The fans are also contributing to the excitement.  I’m used to having soccer matches where the fans stand on the opposite side of the field as the team bench, or at least a respectable distance away.  During this tournament, the fans swarm the bench, even trying to take a seat on the bench, drinking water from our cooler, and generally acting like they’re part of the team.  They do this during the huddle too.  Instead of having a private discussion with the team, my half time pep talks have been to a huddled mass of spectators, all curious to hear what the coach will say, and everyone interjecting their own advice and coaching tips as well.  It’s a little intimidating and very difficult to concentrate.  And when anyone scores a goal, the crowd goes wild, everyone rushing onto the field, dancing and cheering as if they had just won the whole tournament.  It takes at least 5 minutes after every goal to get the game going again.  As I said, very intense.

    And now our team has made it into the finals.  This Sunday we play Baralande.  That’s my neighborhood, though I’m coaching the team from Correrah.  It’s gonna be nuts!  Andres plans to rope off the field, post guards, and invite the police to attend.  We would appreciate your prayers.  Of course, we would love it if our team won, but more than anything we’re hoping for a fair and peaceful game without any problems.

   Olé!  Olé, olé, olé!  Praise the Lord!

Strange Easter

     This was the strangest Easter I’ve ever experienced.  Not bad, just strange.  The morning started by giving our kids their Easter baskets.  But instead of baskets all we had were Tupperware containers.  And instead of Easter candy, a chocolate bunny, etc, we could only find some general gummy candies and chocolate bars.  After breakfast we all dressed up in our special African outfits: Jen and Abi in their custom-made dresses, and Nathanael and I in our special shirts.  We then drove to church.  As we’ve mentioned before, the services can sometimes be long.  Since it’s Easter this one was even longer.  From 9:30 a.m. to 1:30 p.m., we all sat in the crowded, hot sanctuary dancing and praising the Lord.  There we even more special songs than usual, as even more people felt like expressing their individual gratitude to God. 

     Then we moved on to the sermon. This is where things got especially strange.  Instead of your usual Easter-resurrection sermon, the whole message was about betrayal.  We started on the topic of Judas’ betrayal of Jesus, moved to the Old Testament studying various examples of betrayal like Delilah’s betrayal of Samson, and Absalom’s betrayal of David, then passed on to everyday life examples of betrayal, finally arriving at the main point that all of us should be careful not to betray one another, and not to betray Jesus.  It was a decent sermon, just not what we expected on Easter Sunday morning.  There wasn’t anything about the good news of  the resurrection, Jesus’ victory over death and sin, or any of that.  Just “don’t stab your neighbor in the back.”

     Following our marathon church experience (I know other African churches can go even longer, but when you have a wife who doesn’t speak the language, and two little kids without nursery care, it felt like we had just run a marathon) we drove to the Snetselaars’ for a somewhat last-minute Easter lunch.  I say somewhat last-minute because we were expecting the church to provide a meal according to their tradition, but they ended up using the money they had raised for other purposes, leaving them without a budget for the party.  So as a team we ate African food prepared by Corrinne’s neighbor.

     Finally our day ended with some grading and lesson planning, Jen and I getting ready to go back to school the following day.  As I said, it wasn’t a bad day, just a very strange way for us to spend our Easter.  In some ways, I feel it just goes with the territory.  Missionaries have to be flexible, adaptable to the local culture, willing to go with the flow.  Holidays overseas are often the toughest, as we usually look forward to our regular traditions and customs.  But at the same time this type of out-of-the-ordinary experiences make for great memories.  I’m sure next year we’ll look back and laugh at the “strange Easter” we had in Guinea.

     In conclusion, we praise God for His death and resurrection.  We thank Him for His blessings and faithfulness in our lives.  And we rejoice at the fun ways He has taken us out of our comfort zones, granting us the gift of new, and strange, experiences.  Thank you Lord!

Water Wars, Mouse Wars, and More

     While I was away our neighbors engaged us in some mild water wars.  I’ve already mentioned that our backyard is like the watering hole for most of the community.  What we’ve discovered since, is that our next door neighbors (the house full of ladies) have a well in their front yard.  We discovered even later that there is a community spicket about a stone’s throw from our property.  But for whatever reasons, most people like coming into our backyard.  Maybe it’s because they feel they have some sort of privacy (never mind the white folk looking on from their porch) to do laundry or even bathe themselves.  We also discovered the reason why we hadn’t up till now had to pay a water bill.  Apparently the water guy is friends with Ali (the man we share a property with) and regularly accepts bribes from people to set up water without giving anyone a bill.  Right before Christmas he started coming to us, asking for “payment,” which we promptly refused to pay without seeing proper documentation from the water company.  We knew right then that if the company ever came and set up a water meter, we would be in trouble because of the amount of free water we give out.  Thankfully we were able to come to an agreement, thanks to Cees speaking directly to the company, and are only being charged a flat rate per month.  No meter necessary.

    So all this time we’ve been feeling pretty good about ourselves, thinking we’re providing a service to our community, being nice to allow them to come into our backyard and fulfill their water needs for free.  All of this is in spite of the fact that our water pressure drops significantly when the spicket is on outside, and we are constantly walking out to turn off the spicket which is left on about all the time. Thus we were quite baffled one day when our water didn’t come on all day.  There have been strikes from the water company before, but to our knowledge there wasn’t any conflict going at this time.  This same day our gardener went over to borrow water from the neighbor’s well, which we have had to do on occasion, and was refused.  The lady simply picked up the bucket and the rope and took it inside.  This prompted some questions on our part, and we finally discovered that the faucet handle on the spicket outside our property was broken.  We didn’t quite understand what this had to do with us, but the ladies next door clearly felt like we were responsible and needed to pay for it to be fixed.  After a few rounds of negotiations we finally managed to convince them that the community should be responsible to pay for the repairs as they were the ones who regularly used it, and seeing as we regularly allowed everyone to use our spicket without cost. 

      Mind you all of this happened while I was away.  Now imagine being in Jen’s shoes, not able to speak the language, with our neighbors declaring a silent war against her, trying to pressure us into fixing a faucet we don’t even know is broken.  Thankfully between Diana, Andres, and our helpers, the situation was resolved somewhat peacefully.  This incident, however, is somewhat typical of our relationship with this community.  We might feel like everything is going well, we go out of our way to be kind and bless our neighbors, and then suddenly we find out there is some kind of underlying tension we didn’t even know about.  It’s been an ongoing struggle.  We feel pretty safe here and no one has tried to harm us or our home, but we sometimes feel like we’re walking on pins and needles, trying to understand the people around us, and never really succeeding.

     The second war we’ve been waging is against mice.  Since we first started the year, we’ve known there are mice in the school building.  We’ve never seen them, but we can hear their squeaks and we see their poops.  They live in the rafters in the ceiling.  A few months ago they started invading our house.  First they chewed through some of our screens.  Then they found a hole where wires are passed to the exterior.  After we plugged up those entrances, they started chewing a hole in the corner of our door.  On multiple occasions they succeeded in raiding our food pantry and getting out unseen.  In fact, the only clear viewing of the mice we’ve had is when one of them turned up dead in a bucket of water we had left out by accident.

     Finally, after trying unsuccessfully to stop them, I bought some traps.  Mice in Guinea are familiar with traps.  Apparently they go to a school where they train their little mouselings to avoid traps, and there’s even an elite squad of them that know how to steal bread right out of a trap without setting it off.  So I moved on to a mild form of poison Andres gave us.  Really it’s some form of medication for humans.  The idea, as Andres explained, is that you sprinkle the powder on some bread, and when the mice eat it, they then develop ulcers and slowly bleed to death.  Apparently this is considered more humane than proper rat poison.  Well, our mice are familiar with this powder too.  They don’t touch it.  I sprinkled it on bread, I sprinkled it on cheese, nothing worked.  What kind of a mouse refuses to eat cheese?  The ones in Guinea do.

     I had had enough.  The mice were now chewing holes in the rug I had strategically placed next to the hole in the door.  Every morning there would be new piles of rubber and fiber on the floor.  I think they were actually enjoying it more than the bread from the traps.  I sent Calissa to buy some real poison.  This stuff is so toxic, it comes packaged in three different baggies, one inside the other.  The warning on the label reads:  “bury any dead mice, left-over bait, and/or receptacles used to mix and administer the bait.”  No you know when you have to bury the stuff that it’s lethal.  Sure enough, the day after I put it out we had a dead mouse in our backyard.  The second day we had a dead bird.  The third day we had dead lizards.  The fourth day we didn’t see anything dead, but we started smelling something coming from the rafters in the school.  Sure enough, another victim.  I was starting to feel pretty good about the poison when I noticed goats in the yard, as is pretty common.  I panicked.  The last thing we needed was to be held responsible for singlehandedly killing off the neighbors livestock.  To my knowledge none of them have died.  Still, I’ve made extra sure that none of the poison is out in the open and that we close off our gates as best we can. 

     Well, the title says there’s more.  There are plenty of other things to mention, like the bible study Cees and Andres are starting with a core group of young men in Correrah, or the fact that I’ll be preaching at Boke church on Palm Sunday, or the fact that we’re now counting down the days we have left in Guinea (less than 90), looking forward to returning to the states and Panama, but talking about war has worn me out.  As you can see, never a dull moment in Guinea.  Thank you for your continued prayers and support.  Thank you for your love!  And thanks for reading the blog.  I appreciate everyone’s feedback and compliments.  It’s always nice for a writer to know he has at least a handful of readers.  Peace in Jesus!

     Last week I was in Addis Ababa, Ethiopia.  Traveling by way of Ivory Coast and Togo, I passed through some of the smallest airports you have ever seen (a lot like David, Panama).  It took me the whole day to get there, starting at 2 a.m. from home to make the drive to the airport.  The main purpose of my going to Ethiopia was to be with my dad.  My father is the founder and president of a ministry called Breakthrough Partners.  Their main purpose is to “build leaders to rebuild communities.”  He and his associates work alongside local leaders in African nations, people whom God is using to be catalysts in their nations for the benefit of their communities.  He’s been doing this almost ten years now, and felt like it was time to bring together some of the top leaders from the various nations he works with.  It was truly amazing to meet some of these bright and passionate Christians and hear about their work.  To give you an idea of what they do, allow me to introduce you to a few of them.

     First I met Christophe and Sylvestre from Rwanda.  I had read about these young men in a book describing their work.  Christophe is the founder of CARSA, a ministry dedicated to reconciling victims and perpetrators of the Rwandan genocide that happened years back.  Christophe and Sylvestre were also victims and witnesses of these atrocious crimes, but have decided to forgive and help bring about forgiveness and reconciliation within their country.  One of the projects they have is to help perpetrators purchase a cow and offer it as a sign of repentance to their victims.  Together they then raise the cow, using the milk and offspring to also provide an income for their families.  Though the work is often long and painful, they are seeing enemies now living in complete peace and harmony together.  They are hopeful that the future of Rwanda will be bright.

     Charles, Aaron, and Thomas were three pastors I met from South Africa.  These men were some of the individuals who brought great depth and wisdom to our meetings.  All three of them have worked together to form a working network amongst the pastors of Cape Town, South Africa.  They have around 400 pastors that meet regularly to pray, strategize and fellowship together.  They told us, Thursdays are the pastor’s Sundays.  That is the day they worship together and listen to a message in order for their own spirits to be fed and encouraged in the Lord.  They have also worked together to create a feeding center, providing meals for over 2,000 homeless children every day of the week.  Other projects include taking care of orphans, widows, etc…  They told us they had decided that the problems of their community were their responsibility.  They weren’t going to wait around for the government to take care of them, they needed to do it.  And today the government subsidizes and helps them care for the poor and helpless in Cape Town.

     Kofi is a pastor in French-speaking Ivory Coast.  Along with his team members, Bernice and Monique, Kofi trains and supports communities in the areas of micro-financing, micro-enterprises, and community cooperatives.  One of the projects they told us about was a community who had decided to build a fish farm with rabbit huts over them.  We marveled at the ingenuity and success of such a project, enabling the community to also be able to build storage facilities for their crops in order to sell them at the markets later on.  A community that was once very poor is now generating revenue that is increasing their production, feeding their people, and enabling them to be self sustained and independent from any outside aid.  And all of this was due to some basic teaching in savings and Christian business practices.

     The chief goal of each of these individuals and groups (and there were many more present) is to bring fullness of life through Jesus Christ.  They are ministering holistically within communities and nations in order to bring about greater spiritual vitality in broken and often dire circumstances.  One of the main teachings we heard was that when God’s people come together, God’s blessing abounds.  We also discussed at length that God longs to bless all of Africa and has already given her the means to be healthy and strong.  The Africans themselves affirmed to us this week, “we no longer need outside aide and help, God has already given us all we need.”  One of my father’s main goals is to show these African leaders that God has already equipped them with the dreams, visions, and tools to be independent.  They no longer need to be a missions field, but a missions force.  The leaders themselves echoed this sentiment and took up the call to work together for the transformation of Africa.  As I sat there listening (actually I was very busy translating most of these meetings) I wondered whether or not there is still room for the white missionary in Africa.  One of the conclusions we (the Americans in the room) came up with is that we need to continue to be involved, not just for the sake of Africa, but because we have so much to learn from the Africans themselves.  We truly felt blessed to be a part of them this past week.

     I believe God is moving on a global level to bring His body, His bride, His church together.  He is tearing down walls of separation. He is removing blinders and obstacles.  He is calling us to walk together in relationship, and to work together for the good of the Kingdom.  It is no longer sufficient to be in ministry.  We need to be in ministry together.  It is time for us to lay down our labels and titles, to put aside our differences, and to be reconciled and truly seek to love one another as brothers and sisters in Christ.  Jesus said, “the world will know your are my disciples by your love for one another.”

     Lord, I pray for Africa.  I pray that you would continue to do a great work, enabling the churches and ministries and leaders to work together in building your kingdom and rebuilding their nations.  May you pour out your blessing on them that the world may see their unity and the strength and power of the gospel.  May you continue to unite our hearts as brothers and sisters in Christ, all across the globe, leading us in loving each other and carrying out your purposes on this earth.  Amen!

     Last week was busy with the first of the evangelistic campaigns.  This one was a healing campaign by a group from Sweeden.  It was advertised as a “Festival of Miracles and Healings.”  Not being very used to this sort of thing, Jennifer and I both have mixed feelings about it:  on the one hand many people attended and heard the gospel, many people testified to being healed and delivered, and many people indicated they were accepting Jesus for the first time.  But on the other hand, there were also many people who did not.  Jen and I watched from the back as people arrived full of hope and expectation and left very much disappointed.  We struggled to hear the message as the crowd around us chatted away, sometimes mocking the proceedings, clearly only interested to see if anyone would be healed.  The healings themselves were also difficult to see, and, from the perspective of an unbeliever, not very convincing.  We believe they were genuine.  We know the team to be wonderful Christians and got to interact with them on a personal level.  We believe many people did in fact receive Christ.  But it was rather difficult to understand why God chose to heal some and not others; why God allowed so much room for doubt and unbelief; and why there seemed to be an equal amount of sorrow as there was joy.  At the end of the day I am resigned to trust that God’s ways are higher than mine, His wisdom much greater than my own. 

     Still, despite some confusion, there is one personal story I am excited to share.  It’s the story of Calissa.  Since I had had the opportunity to share the gospel with Calissa, I decided I would invite him to go with me on the first night of the crusade.  I did not tell him it was a “healing festival.”  I just decided to let him experience it without any preconceived ideas and see what would happen.  Interestingly enough, Calissa stayed through the end of the gospel presentation and then received a phone call from his boss.  We noticed as he talked on the phone that he was clearly disturbed by something, but we did not know what.  He ended up having to leave even before any prayers had been offered for the sick. 

     A couple days later, he asked me if I would be willing to take his father to the campaign.  I was rather surprised by this but happy to comply.  I asked him what he had thought of it, and he told me we would have to sit down and talk later.  So the following night I helped him take his father.  His family is Landouma, but they live in Correrah (the Jahango village), and his father has severe back problems, so that he can’t walk around very easily.  That night the event went well.  Large crowds were in attendance.  The church noticeably improved their organization, having faced lots of chaos the first night.  The presentations and prayers were very simple and effective—actually I loved the humility of it all.  Each night after giving a gospel message the speaker would pray a large group prayer, inviting people to pray themselves in Jesus’ name to be healed.  Without any other drama or flare, he would then instruct them to check their bodies right where they were to see if God had done any miracles—Many people testified to being healed, and I had the opportunity afterwards to pray for several others still seeking healing and deliverance from evil spirits.

     After the program ended, I drove Calissa and his father home.  Calissa does not live with his father, so he and I found ourselves together in the car with some time to talk.  Right away he told me that if the people at the stadium had truly accepted Jesus they would be healed.  I asked him if he believed the things about Jesus were true.  He said, “yes.”  I asked him if he had prayed and accepted Jesus into his heart.  He told me that he had already done it the first night.  He then went on to share that the past few years he has struggled with stomach problems.  They grip his belly for a few hours every afternoon, leaving him weak and unable to work.  He shared that the night of the campaign, when he accepted Jesus the pain had gone away, and he hadn’t felt it again since.  That was why he was so eager to bring his dad. Calissa wanted to see if he would get healed too.  As far as I know he was not, but he did ask if he could go the following night.

     As we were leaving Correrah, Calissa also asked me to stop the car to say hi to his boss.  His boss’ daughter has eye problems.  They invited me into the house and asked that I would pray for her to be healed.  I took a few minutes to share with them about Jesus Christ, that He is the Son of God, died on the cross for our sins, and is the only one who can give true healing.  I told them that to truly find freedom they had to accept Him and follow Him.  I also explained that they should get rid of any witchcraft they had in the house.  Immediately the father reached behind the door and brought out a bag full and tossed them out the door.  We then prayed for the girl and left.

     Overall, I think the lasting impact of the campaign is that it has opened the doors to share about Jesus.  People here love to see supernatural powers and “miracles,” and there is indeed a lot of power amongst the Marabou and Shamans.  But now they have been exposed to the fact that Jesus also has power, and they are being confronted with the fact that He is the only one with power to forgive sins and give eternal life.  The Jahango also have heard the news and are asking questions.  Many of them went to the campaigns and heard the presentations, and the Sweedish team took time today to meet with and pray for various individuals from the village.  We don’t know what the people are thinking, but we know God is stirring things up and continuing His work amongst them.  We continue to hope and pray God will do big things.  And we continue to feel blessed that we are able to play a small part in it.  Praise the Lord!

     Lord please use the events of this past week to draw people into your mercy and grace.  Please reveal yourself to them and convince them of your truth.  Please protect those who did not receive healing from hard hearts and bitterness.  Please continue to bring healing and miracles as a testimony of your power and love.  Thank you, Lord!  Amen

     In writing the last update I forgot to share about our neighbor’s wedding.  Bagui is an older gentleman, maybe mid fifties or early sixties—I’m not even sure if Bagui is his real name, but it’s painted across his house in large bold letters, so that’s what I’ve been calling him.   During our time here Bagui has been the poor, old batchelor, coming and going at random times, somewhat unkempt, and missing most of his teeth.  He’s always very cheerful and very friendly.  He’s the one that asked me to help him fix up his house and invited me to his wedding.  He became so insistant that I agreed and fully planned on driving him to and from the wedding.  The date was set for Sunday, January 27^th.  He had told me this two months in advance and confirmed it every chance he saw me. 

     Finally, the weekend of the wedding arrived.  I was all set to go that Sunday, having carved out the time and made sure there was gas in my car.  However, the Saturday before the event we had some shopping to do.  When we returned from Kamsar, the ladies next door were outside preparing a large feast, like they had done at Tabasky.  Just then one of them ran up to me and announced that the date of the wedding had been moved up and our neighbor was getting married that day, probably even as we were speaking—through this event I’ve learned that Africans make plans quite differently than us Americans make plans.  When we plan an event, we check and make sure all the details line up, then fix the date and announce it.  When Africans make plans, they announce the date first, then check on all the details.  The assumption is that everyone is flexible and can change at a moment’s notice, so it’s not so important to keep the exact date.  Of course for us Americans, it’s totally preposterous to change the date at the last moment as it will inconvenience everyone else’s plans and most people won’t be able to make it—I  was shocked at this sudden change of plans, a little bit offended that he hadn’t confirmed this with me (I was after all supposed to be the guest of honor and the chauffeur), and yet relieved that I wouldn’t have to drive all that way after all.  I was even more relieved as our neighborhood waited and waited for the arrival of the bridal party and the beginning of the party.  As the hours ticked by, I thanked God I hadn’t been able to go, imagining myself stranded in a strange village, waiting in the hot sun for this bridal couple to finish greeting all their relatives, friends, neighbors, acquantainces, etc… 

    

     Finally, about 10 p.m., just as Jen and I were laying our heads down to sleep, a loud cheer rang out, and the bridal party drove up.  The celebrations began, and loud voices could be heard for the next three hours.  At 1 a.m. the music started and went on for probably another four hours, being intermittently interrupted by a rather annoying D.J.  Finally all was quiet and it was just about time to wake up and go to church. 

     As we were driving out that morning, Bagui ran up to the car.  He was beaming.  Dressed in slacks, a sports jacket, and a golf hat, he quickly apologized for the change in plans and invited us over to meet the new bride.  Jen and I politely walked over, trying to figure out from amongst the crowd which one was the lucky girl.  Hiding in the back, behind a large group of girls her age, was the saddest person I have ever seen.  Here was a beautiful, young girl, maybe 20 years at best, on the of her wedding, and she looked miserable.

      Like most marriages here, this was an arranged one.  We were told that due to his age, the bride would probably be mentally handicapped or have some kind of major defect.  But from what we could tell, she was completely healthy, very pretty, with no visible defect at all.  It’s possible she was somewhat promiscuous or disobedient in her village, or possibly her family could no longer provide for her and just wanted to get rid of her as fast as possible.  Either way, it was such a sad sight for us to see.  It did, however, shed light on the issue of family.  From what we’ve observed, there is a severe lack of love within the families here.  Couples regularly fight and yell at each other; husbands often beat their wives; infidelity and affairs are very common; parents yell at and beat their kids; kids are disobedient and rebellious, etc…  It’s become apparent to us that when marriages start off without any love, when women are simply given to a man to fulfill his domestic needs, when a man is free to marry as many wives as he wants, and when kids just become a bi-product of those relationships without love or mutual affection, then the whole system breaks down.  And then when you factor into this the absence of any real love with the Father, the situation begins to look quite hopeless.  Indeed, life amongst these Muslim communities, and within the Jahango especially, is rather bleak and broken.  The only thing that seems to hold the society together is a strong sense of duty.  People stay “married” out of obligation (actually divorce is nonexistent because a man can just remarry any time he is dissatisfied with his wife, or if the wife were to leave him).  Families and neighbors help each other out of obligation.  People follow the rules out of obligation.  They are even very religious, simply out of obligation.  If one were to break these obligations, the community would retaliate by publicly shaming them, rejecting them, and cutting them off from this support system.  Therefore everyone conforms.

      Now I’m sure there is probably some good that exists in these communities, and perhaps I’ve exaggerated the situation in my mind, but it does reveal the depravity of sin and life without God.  In order for man to live a happy, joyful, fulfilled life, God’s love must be central.  Without it, everything breaks down and becomes painful and difficult, a life filled with despair and hopelessness, like the young girl now trapped and bound to a man almost three times her age who will never really love her, never really understand her or care for her.  Instead she will spend the rest of her life feeling used, fighting for every inch of freedom and dignity she can get.  It saddens us to watch this, but it confirms for us yet again the need for Jesus.  Even if the stories of Jesus were all a lie, even if the gospel weren’t true, how much better life in Christ really is.  Christian homes and families may not be perfect, but the foundation God gives us in love and marriage is far better than any other I’ve seen.  At least here there is hope.  At least here there is freedom to choose.  At least here there is a power and a motivation that helps us to work things out and care for each other when everything seems to be going wrong.

     Thank you, Lord, for giving us love as the foundation of marriage and family.  Thank you for giving us the perfect example of love in the image of your Son and His love for the Church.  And thank you for the privilege of reflecting that image in our marriages.  Help us, God, to love one another, to stay faithful and pure, to honor and serve each other, to care for each other.  Help us to be examples to the world of what strong marriages should look like.  May they be drawn to you when they watch us carry out our relationships before them.  Amen!

The hot weather is almost here.  For the past couple months we’ve had dry season.  There hasn’t been a single drop of rain and everything has turned dusty and brown.  Where there were once large fields of green grass, there is now nothing but charred ground, having been intentionally burned by the locals to prevent forest fires later.  The roads that used to be full of muddy potholes are now covered with dust which flies up in the air anytime a car or motorcycle goes by.  People literally run and hide when we drive past. 

  The nice thing is that this season has also been cooler.  For us Americans it hasn’t really seemed cold, but it’s been comfortable.  In the mornings we would actually wake up feeling chilly, slip on a sweater and drink tea to warm ourselves up.  The afternoons were warm, but bearable, and overall we were enjoying the season tremendously.  But suddenly the coolness vanished.  We had two days of unexpected rain showers, and with them a shift in the seasons.  The rains are gone, and it’s now starting to feel just plain hot.  Surprisingly our mango trees have also noticed the change in season and are starting to bear fruit.  I don’t know where they get the water from, but they’ll be quite prolific soon.

     By comparison, things with the Jahangos have also been heating up, but in a good way.  After years and years of prayer and service, the team is finally beginning to see signs of fruit.  For the past few months the Snetselaars have been bringing Dalouba to church with them.  Though very young and primitive in her understanding of the gospel, she seems to display a genuine belief in Jesus and a hunger to know and experience more.  The young men around Cees’ house have also been discussing and reading passages of the Bible, asking questions and expressing their concerns and opinions.  After watching a video titled, “God of Wonders,” they told Cees they felt this was indeed the truth.  Emma and her Jahango husband, Soriba, have also been coming to church regularly.  They tell us they pray and read the Bible together everyday.  This is quite miraculous as Jahango couples don’t normally do anything together. 

     These stories and many more are evidence of the fact that God is on the move.  In fact, God has been moving this whole time.  Just like the underground streams bringing water to our mango trees, God’s spirit is present, subtly working in people’s hearts, throughout the community, drawing people to himself in the most unexpected ways.  As proof of this, last week Cees and Andres traveled to Conakry where God brought them into contact with a Jahango man who has been a Christian for over 20 years.  No one from our team even knew this man existed, and here we find that he is a mature believer, working for a Christian Bible institute, living and teaching in the capital city.  We’re very excited about the role this man could possibly play in the Bible translation project, reaching his own people group, and more. 

    Finally, to top it all off, we’ve received word this week that there are three major evangelistic crusades coming to Boke in the next three months.  Boke is a small town by comparison to Conakry or other big cities of Guinea, and yet there it is.  Half jokingly Andres proposed we rent a bus and cart everyone from Correrah to these events.  We’re not sure what it will mean for the Jahango, but it’s for sure that they’ll hear of these events and quite possibly be curious enough to attend on their own initiative.

   I’m not really looking forward to the hotter weather.  April and May are supposed to be especially unbearable.  But if it means we get to witness all of Boke, Correrah, and the Jahango people on fire for Jesus, then I’m all in.  Now is the time to pray, even more fervently than before.  God is starting to manifest Himself in visible, tangible ways, we are starting to see the fruits of years and years of labor, so let us double our efforts that we may share in the victory that He is sure to accomplish.  To God be the glory!

     “We praise you Lord for the fruit we are beginning to see amongst the Jahango.  Thank you for the Snetselaars and their many years of faithful service.  Thank you for the Galvez and their commitment and service amongst these people.  Thank you, Lord for your faithfulness in reaching the lost and bringing your Kingdom here on earth as it is in Heaven.  Please, Lord, continue this work in our midst.  Cast out the darkness and bring forth your light.  Protect the believers from persecution and harm.  Open people’s hearts to knowing and believing in you.  Pour out your power and love, Lord.  Display your glory.  Amen!”

Future Plans

     For the past two months, we’ve been praying about our future plans.  This is a process we’ve become very familiar with over the past ten years, but one that we continue to dislike.  When we first moved to Panama, our plan was to teach at CCA for two years and then return to the states to continue our education.  After one year as teachers, we were hired by CBC to be the Children’s Pastor.  We stayed on in this position without a clearly defined contract for how long we would stay.  Every year, about half way through the year, we would stop and pray about whether or not we would continue another year.  And we did this year, after year, after year.  After seven years of this, we decided we wanted something more definite.  So we began to pray about whether or not God wanted us to stay on at CBC “permanently,” or return to the states to settle down and plant some roots.  Instead, God sent us to Guinea.  And now we’ve been in the same situation, about half way through the year, praying and asking God what’s next. 

     Finally, after two months of prayer and deliberation, we’ve come to a decision.  This past week we officially announced to CBC that we won’t be returning as Children’s Pastor next year.  Before leaving CBC I had the strange feeling that my time as children’s pastor was coming to an end.  Saying goodbye for a one year assignment felt like we were saying goodbye more “permanently.”  And now that presentiment is coming to fulfillment, as we continue to feel that God is leading us to go somewhere else.  At first we thought about and considered staying on in Guinea.  However, as the Galvez and Snetselaars began to establish plans for an upcoming furlough, it seemed like that option was closing.  Indeed, our abilities to teach their children will soon be maxed out anyways, as neither Jen nor I are qualified to teach high school.  Furthermore, we both feel like the right thing to do for now is to return to the states.  We don’t know what this will mean for us as we don’t have a job lined up—searching for jobs can be a little tricky when you’re thousands of miles away dealing with a really poor internet connection—but we’re trusting that the Lord will guide and provide all we need.  At this time some of the options we’re seeing are:  1.  Search for a children’s pastor or missions pastor position on the West Coast or somewhere close to our families, 2. Pursue the possibility of getting a seminary degree, and/or 3. Work with my father in his ministry/organization which involves training African leaders for holistic community transformation.  It’s quite possible we’ll end up doing a mix of all three, depending on the Lord’s provision and direction.

     As I mentioned before, it’s a little daunting to think of re-entering the United States.  I’m not sure how we’ll handle transitioning to this environment.  It’s also a little scary to face the prospect of joblessness.  Indeed it was quite difficult to give up a job and a church that we love for something that is completely unknown.  And now it seems very strange that going back “home” is going to require greater faith than moving to Africa.  Still, I guess that’s how the Lord works, stretching us in ways we least expect it and in areas we most need it.

  As you read this, please pray for us.  Pray that God would give us faith and peace in this process.  Pray for clear guidance and direction for us.  Pray that God would provide for us work, a good home, church, and school.  Pray that God would be glorified in our lives no matter where we go.  Pray for us to finish our time in Guinea well, for God to use us and minister in and through us in the remaining five months.  And pray for the Jahango team, that God would continue to provide teachers for them in the education of their children. 

     We know God is faithful.  We know He is good.  The great thing with times like these is that we put all of that to the test once again, depending on Him to prove Himself all over again.  And we know that He will; He always does.  

     Today being Sunday, I went to church.  As I sat there trying to engage in the worship, I thought I should write in the blog, try to describe what church in Guinea is like. We’ve had the privilege of visiting four different churches here in Guinea.  Each one has its own flavor, but as a whole they are all very similar.  Here’s what a typical church service in Guinea is like:

     First, you enter the room and find your designated side:  women on one side, men on the other.  Second, everything is presided over by the dirigeant, an emcee-type person responsible to keep the service running and give explanations along the way.  The emcee will stand up and very formally announce the beginning of the service, inviting people to prayer:

     “Ladies and gentlemen, I am in great joy to invite you to Boke Church this morning.  Let’s begin with a time of prayer.  This morning I would like to direct you to pray for five main points:  Point number 1, pray for people in our church who are sick and cannot make it today.  Point number 2, pray for the service today, that God would bless our time and bless his word, that God would deliver us from the enemy and protect us from temptation and distractions.  Point number 3, pray for our missionaries and pastors.  Point number 4, pray for our great country, that there would be freedom and peace, that God would give our leaders wisdom, that He would guide the elections so that our leaders could lead this nation in the ways of God.  Point number 5, pray for our neighbors and friends who don’t know Christ, that they would have the joy of salvation in their hearts and would be able to join us in the eternal kingdom of Paradise.  Let us pray.”

     At this point everyone will start praying out loud, a cacophony of voices rising up together before the throne of God.  Towards the end of it, one voice will generally rise above the rest, sometimes the voice of the dirigeant, sometimes that of one of the elders, closing with one last prayer summing up the various petitions that were mentioned.  Then the dirigeant will announce a time of “louanges.”  These are typically reflective worship songs, somewhat slow and serious.  They are led by the choir that sits at the front of the sanctuary—the choir is usually composed of the young adults of the church, singles and college students.  This is both their social church network and their avenue for ministry—After four or five songs, they move on to the adoration section of worship.  This is when things really get going. 

     Music is very important in African culture, and they take a lot of time and energy rejoicing in the Lord through song and dance.  The music is usually directed by one or two worship leaders and is accompanied by a keyboard, a couple large bongos, sometimes a drum set, and usually a few maraca-type instruments made of large gourds.  It is all funneled through a rather bad sound system that blares and hisses throughout it all.  Everything gets really loud and everyone has a great time.  The women especially really get into it, performing motions and simple dance steps specific to each song.  There are no words posted anywhere, on a screen or in a hymnal, instead the choir director usually sings out the chorus first and the congregation echoes it back to him.  In this way the songs are often repeated over and over again, and if you can understand what they are saying you can learn it quite quickly.

     After about 30 min. of this, when people are good and tired, the dirigeant instructs us all to sit down and then asks if anyone from the congregation has a special song they would like to present.  Usually two or three people come forward and present a special song they wanted to sing.  Sometimes it is a song they learned at a different church, sometimes it is one of the songs the church sings regularly that they just really wanted to share.  Usually the band catches on to the tune and plays along, and almost always the congregation ends up singing along as well.  Following this, the choir might present a special song they practiced over the weekend, and occasionally another group such as the women or the youth will present another song.  After each performance the emcee will say, “We want to thank so-and-so for the beautiful song they presented to us this morning.” 

     With this portion of the singing finished, the emcee moves on to introducing the newcomers.  Everyone who is new, or who perhaps hasn’t been to church in a few weeks will introduce him/herself or be introduced by a friend.  The proper way to introduce yourself is to say, “I am in the great joy to be with you this morning.  My name is so-and-so and I come from this part of Guinea.”  The choir will then sing a welcome song to the newcomers. 

     Next is the part in the service for tithes and offerings.  Everyone files out from the benches and drops their bills in the baskets, while the choir sings…another song.  Frequently there will be two or three rounds of offerings for various purposes, each round always accompanied by more singing.  As missionaries we’ve learned to always keep part of our offerings back, holding onto the money for possible further rounds, or for…a rally.

     The rally is the Guinean fundraiser.  It’s basically a competition between the men and women to see who can outgive each other.  During the first round people all give small amounts of money towards their respective side.  The amounts are counted up and the totals for each side announced.  Then there’s a second, third, and maybe even fourth round of giving, each time men and women giving more and more to see if they can top each other.  Quite often a rally will take place over about a month, with multiple rounds of giving each Sunday.  Everyone gets really excited during these things, though I’m not sure if it’s the joy of giving or the delight of beating the members of the opposite sex.  So far I’ve mostly seen the men win, which isn’t all that fair since they are mostly the ones with jobs.  To balance it out, however, there tends to often be a funny man (like Cees) who prances over and drops some bills in the woman’s basket.  The women all whoop and cheer when this happens.

 

  Finally, after offerings, the reading of the daily Bible passage, another song, and some announcements, it is time for the message.  The pastor will generally speak in French using an interpreter to translate into Susu, preaching for about 45 min. to an hour.  After the sermon, the dirigeant concludes the service with a report on the service which includes statistics on the attendance and offerings given that day, and quite possibly…one last song.

     Overall a service like this can last between two to three hours long, depending on the number of newcomers to announce, the number of rounds of offerings and rallies, and of course, the number of songs.  But have no fear!  All of these things are supervised by “Les Flambeaux.”  French for “The Torches,” the Flambeaux are a special group of young people, generally between 13 and 25 years old, who are kinda like the boy scouts of church.  They even wear nifty little scarves like boy scouts.  Their responsibilities are to greet and seat people, hold the offering baskets, and keep people awake.  That’s right, they walk around during the service and if anyone is being tempted to doze off, they gently nudge the person and tell them to sit up straight.  In a service that lasts as long as these do, in hot, crowded conditions, Flambeaux are quite important.  I’m thinking our ushers back home need to seriously consider adding this to their job description:  protect the spiritual health of the people by keeping them awake during the sermons.  So far no one from our team has been “caught” napping in church…the key is to look like you’re praying, of course, but if you snore, better watch out!

     Father, I thank you for our brothers and sisters in Guinea.  I thank you for the strength and health of these churches, for their leaders, and the committed members.  I thank you for their joyful expressions of worship and praise, and I pray that you would continue to bless and provide for them.  Lead them Lord in your ways, continue to bring them to maturity and send them out to make a difference amongst their families and neighbors.  Amen!