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!

New Year's and Beyond

January 8, 2013

     Usually about this time of year, we’re getting ready to head to the CBC family camp at Cresta Del Mar.  This year we had a little family camp of our own in Guinea.  Apparently it’s our team’s tradition to spend New Year’s camping at the beach.  So a couple days after we had gotten back from the mountains, we packed up our things again, tent, water jugs, and all, and headed to Sobane Beach.

      To get to the beach, you take the main highway towards Conakry and then turn right when you spot the Bel Air Hotel sign.  This is the only beach hotel on the coast which means it’s too expensive for missionaries.  Still the signs are a nice guide.  After driving about twenty minutes over rolling hills and vast stretches of prairie and savanna, you turn off the road (in the opposite direction of Bel Air), pass a couple of tiny towns with mud huts and thatch roofs, go down another dirt road, and then dead end at Sobane Beach. 

     Similar to Panama’s beaches about eight years ago, Guinea’s beaches are totally undeveloped, leaving you with vast stretches of nice white sand, palm trees, and hardly anyone around.  The only buildings in sight are three little shacks, one of which we rented out for our stay (nothing more than an outdoor kitchen and storage room).  Oh, and our tents.

     One of the interesting features of this beach is its tides.  At high tide the waves crash onto the beach as you would normally expect, but only about a foot or two in height, and you can practically walk about a half mile out past the “surf.”  At low tide the water recedes about ¾ miles, leaving behind a few tide pools and vast stretches of sand mixed with a grey, clay-tar substance.  The kids had great fun caking the mud on themselves and having mud wars.  But the adults all have various speculations as to what the mud actually is.  Some say it’s swamp mud, washed in from the streams.  Some say it’s natural clay.  Some think it’s tar deposits from ships.  Nobody knows for sure what it is or whether or not it’s completely safe, but seeing as no one has felt any ill effects from it, they continue to let the kids play in it, and make sure everyone takes good showers before bed.  Speaking of showers, there are none, except for an open-roofed, thatch-walled enclosure with shells for flooring and a bucket for water.  It’s quite freeing to bathe under the stars with palm leaves as the only thing guarding your privacy.  Still, I felt a little like Adam having just eating the forbidden fruit, only I had done nothing wrong; I was literally in the clear. 

     After a few days of camping and swimming at the beach, we finally returned home for some true rest and recovery.  Why is it that we love to go on vacation to rest and relax, but always come back more tired than when we left?  And now we are back in school, plugging away at semester number two.  We’re also in the middle of discussions with our team as to when the school year should end.  Both the Galvez and Snetselaars will be going on furlough next term, so we’re trying to all figure out when, and where we should go.  There is lots to consider for each family involved, and we’re all somewhat dependent on the other to make the decisions.  So we’re fervently praying and asking the Lord for direction.  As usual his answers seem slow and faint, like a whisper floating on a gentle breeze.  We all wish God would speak and reveal Himself through clouds of smoke and pillars of fire, yet we know our faith is better exercised when we practice being still and waiting on the Lord. 

     In the meantime we’re seeing more fruit come from the long-term ministry that’s taken place in Correrah.  The Snetselaars have been bringing various individuals to church with them each week, including the young gal, Dalouba.  Andres and Diana continue to discuss Jesus with Simakan, Bangoura, and others.  And Jennifer and I are continuing our attempts to minister to our neighbors, the soccer team, and Calissa, the bread guy.  The other day I was even invited into the house of one our neighbors, an elderly gentlemen who will soon be getting married.  For Christmas I gave him a bag of cement so that he can fix up his house to get it ready for his future bride.  He’s also invited me to his wedding at the end of January.  His wife is part Landouma, and part Jahango.  The village will be held in a Jahango village fairly close by, and the man asked me if I could drive him there and back.  This isn’t so much because he needs a ride, but because it would make him look good to arrive with a white-man as his chauffeur.  I’m not exaggerating.   He even told me that he would tell everyone, “C’est mon blanc!”  Translation:  “He’s my whitie!”  I told him I hope he would say, “C’est mon ami—He’s my friend.”  He nodded his head and said, “Oui.  C’est mon ami.”

     Lord, please continue to bless and protect us while we’re here.  Give us strength, health, wisdom, and love to carry out your purposes in this part of the world.  Please guide us in terms of next year’s plans.  And please grant us to bear fruit from the labor we’ve performed this year.  We continue to ask, Lord, that you would do great things and show us your glory.  May your Kingdom come and your will be done, here on earth as it is in Heaven.  Amen!”