Today was humbling – our group had the privilege of worshipping at a Holiness Pentecostal church near Butare, Rwanda and then visited a working group that has only been enrolled in our program for a few weeks. We were invited to their first group meeting. Ever.
It was the hardest day yet. These kids have no hope. They do not even believe that they have a future. All they have are their dreams drawn on pieces of paper. They do not have enough food to fill their bellies.
We saw the home of one girl in the working group on the way. Donata is a fifteen-year-old girl whose parents died of HIV/AIDS. They left her with a leaky hut that they cannot sleep in for fear that it will collapse on them (as the other hut on their property has done). They also left her with a ten-year-old sister and an eighty-year-old aunt who is mentally unstable.
Because they care for the aunt, both daughters have dropped out of school and even though they care for the aunt, they feel unsafe when she is around. Donata tries to find work by carrying water for others in return for a small – and I mean tiny – basket of sweet potatoes. The aunt laughed at their efforts saying that even the potatoes were a gift because their work wasn’t worth the food that they got in return. This weekend, they only had enough for two meals – lunch on both Saturday lunch on Sunday.
They eat just a few times a week. Their parents left them no land on which they can farm. Donata has no way to make money. At the working group, Epiphanie asked them to raise their hands if they could not raise the equivalent of 20 cents a week. Donata (along with 2/3 of her group) raised her hand.
I was so ashamed to walk back to the bus where I had a powerbar and a few granola bars. How could I walk away from such a girl and not give her everything that I have? How could I not empty my wallet and just give her everything? As a team, we wept. What else could you do?
Epiphanie cried and she explained to us that at the beginning of her empowerment program she began to give kids food to eat to get them through until their beans could be planted or their stores were producing money to buy food. She did precisely what her heart told her she had to do and those kids are still calling her and begging her for money.
The reason that I could walk away from those children today is that I have seen kids who were worse off than Donata two years ago who are thriving today. The orphans who have looked me in the eye and said “I was hopeless and now I have hope” because of the methodology would not change a thing about it. I was able to walk away with a renewed determination to tell Donata’s story because she is just at the beginning. Two years from now, when a team visits Donata, she will be smiling and happy. She will have food to eat and will have dignity – it is a gift greater than any food that I could offer today.
She starts off without hope. And one day soon, she will smile and give thanks to God. This is just how it starts.
Hear the words from another girl in our program named Donata:
“I was hopeless. When I met the Giving Hope staff in March, I felt love and began to smile. They asked me to tell my story and gave me hope. It changed my mind, and I started believing God was bringing me good things. I remember when Jean Pierre (a ZOE staff member) said, ‘You have to believe God loves you and will give you what you need if you trust him.’ The Giving Hope staff said that I would get a house, but I didn’t believe them because others had told me that before. Now we are grateful and happy to have this home. Before Giving Hope I thought nobody could love me, and that others were bad. Giving Hope opened my eyes – I could see people giving love. Now, I am committed to giving love, especially to orphans.”
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Friday, February 12, 2010
The Seeing-Eye Rabbit
Apologies for not writing as often this trip. I got into the groove of Africa and just didn’t make this happen. Sorry – I’m back at it now.
I am now with the second ZOE team to Africa and this time I am in Rwanda. The team is fantastic and includes my bishop and (you need to know this for the story I am about to tell) his wife who became blind six years ago due to a virus.
The past few days have been fairly emotional. We went to the genocide museum in Kigale and saw the mass graves for 280,000 Rwandans. When we started making home visits, we came across the worst situation I have seen in Rwanda – a child-headed family who is getting kicked out of the house that they are using by their relatives. The younger sister has an open wound on her leg due to malnutrition and Epiphanie promises me that they are much better than they were three months ago – that girl could not even get out of bed and had sores all over her body. My heart broke as she shared a cup of sorgum soda with her five-year-old cousin that they adopted.
We have seen situations that are so desolate that it takes every ounce of faith not to count them hopeless. And in the face of such desperation, the staff here promises – and I believe them – that in three to six months, the kids will be food secure and will be empowered to accomplish their dreams.
We saw that today when we visited an orphan who had only been in the program 8 months. He had four younger siblings and was so pleased to be visited by our group – especially since the bishop was present.
He showed us his water tank that sifted rain water into good and bad – drinking water and water for the garden. He showed us his contraption to wash his hands when he leaves his outhouse so that he does not have to touch anything. He showed us his 3 large rabbits, 10 baby rabbits, corn, cabbage, carrots, and the old house where he used to live.
But the true grace occurred as we were leaving. The group was about ready to circle up and pray when the 20 year old orphan (who looks 15 from malnourishment) walks out of his house with one of his 3 adult rabbits by the ears and two large heads of cabbage. He walks over to the bishop and Mrs. Bledsoe and offers them to us as a gift.
This child gave us 33% of his adult rabbits because he was grateful for all that he has received through Giving Hope.
Here in Rwanda, many of the children are taught to beg from mzungus (yes they still call rich people and white people mzungus in Rwanda, too). They open up their hand and ask for a little bit of money, or water, or anything that you have.
This child, though, opened up his hand and offered us a tithe of his harvest. He had 10 baby rabbits and so he gave us one adult rabbit.
In the bus on the way out of this village, Greg Jenks (ZOE’s Executive Director) was joking about taking it home with him to North Carolina. Mrs. Bledsoe offered to use it as a seeing eye rabbit in order to get it past customs.
The truth of the situation is that this rabbit is exactly that. It teaches us how to see missions in a completely different light. It taught me to see that when we do missions right, the people do not merely stick out their hand asking for a little something to eat but rather we empower them to hold out their hand and offer what they have to somebody else.
That rabbit taught me to see my work in a whole new way.
[I also need to add that this story would not be complete if I did not tell about the other things that the orphans gave our group today. A different orphan gave us another rabbit and a chicken and a working group of orphans offered us a few kilos of beans from their harvest that day and 10 ears of roasted corn. I was walking back to the bus with a rabbit in one hand and an ear of corn in the other. Greg was walking back with an ear of corn in one hand and a chicken in the other. They were so proud that they could not wait to share God’s bounty. And the people of God said “Amen”.]
I am now with the second ZOE team to Africa and this time I am in Rwanda. The team is fantastic and includes my bishop and (you need to know this for the story I am about to tell) his wife who became blind six years ago due to a virus.
The past few days have been fairly emotional. We went to the genocide museum in Kigale and saw the mass graves for 280,000 Rwandans. When we started making home visits, we came across the worst situation I have seen in Rwanda – a child-headed family who is getting kicked out of the house that they are using by their relatives. The younger sister has an open wound on her leg due to malnutrition and Epiphanie promises me that they are much better than they were three months ago – that girl could not even get out of bed and had sores all over her body. My heart broke as she shared a cup of sorgum soda with her five-year-old cousin that they adopted.
We have seen situations that are so desolate that it takes every ounce of faith not to count them hopeless. And in the face of such desperation, the staff here promises – and I believe them – that in three to six months, the kids will be food secure and will be empowered to accomplish their dreams.
We saw that today when we visited an orphan who had only been in the program 8 months. He had four younger siblings and was so pleased to be visited by our group – especially since the bishop was present.
He showed us his water tank that sifted rain water into good and bad – drinking water and water for the garden. He showed us his contraption to wash his hands when he leaves his outhouse so that he does not have to touch anything. He showed us his 3 large rabbits, 10 baby rabbits, corn, cabbage, carrots, and the old house where he used to live.
But the true grace occurred as we were leaving. The group was about ready to circle up and pray when the 20 year old orphan (who looks 15 from malnourishment) walks out of his house with one of his 3 adult rabbits by the ears and two large heads of cabbage. He walks over to the bishop and Mrs. Bledsoe and offers them to us as a gift.
This child gave us 33% of his adult rabbits because he was grateful for all that he has received through Giving Hope.
Here in Rwanda, many of the children are taught to beg from mzungus (yes they still call rich people and white people mzungus in Rwanda, too). They open up their hand and ask for a little bit of money, or water, or anything that you have.
This child, though, opened up his hand and offered us a tithe of his harvest. He had 10 baby rabbits and so he gave us one adult rabbit.
In the bus on the way out of this village, Greg Jenks (ZOE’s Executive Director) was joking about taking it home with him to North Carolina. Mrs. Bledsoe offered to use it as a seeing eye rabbit in order to get it past customs.
The truth of the situation is that this rabbit is exactly that. It teaches us how to see missions in a completely different light. It taught me to see that when we do missions right, the people do not merely stick out their hand asking for a little something to eat but rather we empower them to hold out their hand and offer what they have to somebody else.
That rabbit taught me to see my work in a whole new way.
[I also need to add that this story would not be complete if I did not tell about the other things that the orphans gave our group today. A different orphan gave us another rabbit and a chicken and a working group of orphans offered us a few kilos of beans from their harvest that day and 10 ears of roasted corn. I was walking back to the bus with a rabbit in one hand and an ear of corn in the other. Greg was walking back with an ear of corn in one hand and a chicken in the other. They were so proud that they could not wait to share God’s bounty. And the people of God said “Amen”.]
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
A Return to Blessings Bakery
The curse and the blessing of working for ZOE Ministry is that I almost never speak to the same people twice. Like bishops, seminary professors, and any other clergy that do not serve a local church, I have preached the same sermon at least fifteen times. It is always Acts 3:1-10 where Peter and John are walking up to the temple at the hour of prayer, they look a lame man in the eyes and say “Silver and gold I do not have, but what I have I give you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, stand up and walk.”
I then tell the story of Davis and Sqberio – two bakers at the blessings bakery. Last summer when I ate their wonderful sweet bread, Davis told how he got 3 dollars a day to bake bread at Blessings Bakery (a group business). Instead of using that money for himself, he gave his friend half of his salary to train him to be the second baker. Simon Peter is Davis’ spiritual ancestor, helping his friend to not just to beg day after day, but teaching him to walk on his own.
At this point, thousands of people have heard this sermon over the past eight months. Two of them took me up on my offer to travel to Machungalu, Kenya and taste the bread themselves.
As we walked up to the bakery, I felt nervous. What if I had over exaggerated the significance of the bakery? What if, in my exuberance to preach the gospel, I had missed something significant in the story? What if the bread wasn’t good anymore? According to some, I tend to have a flair for the dramatic when I preach and part of me was afraid that reality would not live up to the imagination.
I was nervous for nothing.
Now, the bread wasn’t quite as good as it was last time (mostly because we were over two hours late to meet with them), but the power of their story touched everyone who heard it. Davis has taught Sqberio both how to save and spend his money. Davis helped Sqberio open up a bank account and Davis taught Sqberio how to buy and keep a goat that can provide both milk and fertilizer.
I asked why he did it, why he gave up half of his salary for his friend. His answer was simple: “We love each other as orphans.”
We found out that day that four members in the group are positive for HIV. Reegan says that losing a fellow group member to AIDS is harder than losing their parents because they love each other so much. That love can be seen in Sqberio’s goat. It is a love big enough for Davis to give him half of his salary. It is that love that makes Blessings Bakery worth the trip.
I then tell the story of Davis and Sqberio – two bakers at the blessings bakery. Last summer when I ate their wonderful sweet bread, Davis told how he got 3 dollars a day to bake bread at Blessings Bakery (a group business). Instead of using that money for himself, he gave his friend half of his salary to train him to be the second baker. Simon Peter is Davis’ spiritual ancestor, helping his friend to not just to beg day after day, but teaching him to walk on his own.
At this point, thousands of people have heard this sermon over the past eight months. Two of them took me up on my offer to travel to Machungalu, Kenya and taste the bread themselves.
As we walked up to the bakery, I felt nervous. What if I had over exaggerated the significance of the bakery? What if, in my exuberance to preach the gospel, I had missed something significant in the story? What if the bread wasn’t good anymore? According to some, I tend to have a flair for the dramatic when I preach and part of me was afraid that reality would not live up to the imagination.
I was nervous for nothing.
Now, the bread wasn’t quite as good as it was last time (mostly because we were over two hours late to meet with them), but the power of their story touched everyone who heard it. Davis has taught Sqberio both how to save and spend his money. Davis helped Sqberio open up a bank account and Davis taught Sqberio how to buy and keep a goat that can provide both milk and fertilizer.
I asked why he did it, why he gave up half of his salary for his friend. His answer was simple: “We love each other as orphans.”
We found out that day that four members in the group are positive for HIV. Reegan says that losing a fellow group member to AIDS is harder than losing their parents because they love each other so much. That love can be seen in Sqberio’s goat. It is a love big enough for Davis to give him half of his salary. It is that love that makes Blessings Bakery worth the trip.
Monday, February 1, 2010
Moses and the Masses
Sunday began and ended with worship.
We started out at the large Methodist church off the main road in Maua. They have three services - one in English, one in Swahili, and one in the local language Ki-Meru. I was asked to preach one of the services. You would imagine that I would be asked to preach at the English service - and I did preach in English with no translator - but I preached the Swahili service with probably 500 Kenyans. In English. With no translator. And no microphone.
The pastor assured me that 95% of the people would be able to understand me, but I felt really bad for those 5% that couldn't. Oh well. I preached on Philippians 2:1-13 and had an amazing time. I have preached to larger crowds, but it is so difficult to know that my message translates effectively. Fortunately, the gospel is the same in Kenya as in North Carolina and Texas.
Preaching that morning to an almost entirely African population gave me a renewed sense of awe for Moses. Moses is an orphan in our program that I have written about regularly in this blog. He is the one who lives on top of the mountain and is tutoring Robert (whose house I built last summer). Sunday night, he spoke through skype to a camp of Sr. High youth in Bridgeport, TX and to Crosswalk - a worship service of Lovers Lane UMC in Dallas.
Moses spoke to hundreds of people about his life, his farm, his parents who both died from HIV/AIDS and his step-mother who now carries the disease. He was great with the youth at the camp, but I was transformed by his prayer that began worship with Crosswalk.
Moses prayed that they have the rains that they need. From a farmer in Kenya, good rains mean that you have food to eat and sell. It means that you have enough food to to feed your family and enough money to send your family to school. It means that you have life. I hope that they got that in Dallas, just like I hope they understood my sermon in Maua.
I am convinced, though, that even if we were not quite understood because we come from different places, our intent was clear. We are bonded by a common Gospel. From Dallas to Maua, the Holy Spirit can connect. I know that Moses and the masses of Americans who heard him knew that he was pouring his soul into his prayer. Somehow, the Holy Spirit can make us understood in languages and cultures that we never knew. At least, that is what I read in Acts 2.
We started out at the large Methodist church off the main road in Maua. They have three services - one in English, one in Swahili, and one in the local language Ki-Meru. I was asked to preach one of the services. You would imagine that I would be asked to preach at the English service - and I did preach in English with no translator - but I preached the Swahili service with probably 500 Kenyans. In English. With no translator. And no microphone.
The pastor assured me that 95% of the people would be able to understand me, but I felt really bad for those 5% that couldn't. Oh well. I preached on Philippians 2:1-13 and had an amazing time. I have preached to larger crowds, but it is so difficult to know that my message translates effectively. Fortunately, the gospel is the same in Kenya as in North Carolina and Texas.
Preaching that morning to an almost entirely African population gave me a renewed sense of awe for Moses. Moses is an orphan in our program that I have written about regularly in this blog. He is the one who lives on top of the mountain and is tutoring Robert (whose house I built last summer). Sunday night, he spoke through skype to a camp of Sr. High youth in Bridgeport, TX and to Crosswalk - a worship service of Lovers Lane UMC in Dallas.
Moses spoke to hundreds of people about his life, his farm, his parents who both died from HIV/AIDS and his step-mother who now carries the disease. He was great with the youth at the camp, but I was transformed by his prayer that began worship with Crosswalk.
Moses prayed that they have the rains that they need. From a farmer in Kenya, good rains mean that you have food to eat and sell. It means that you have enough food to to feed your family and enough money to send your family to school. It means that you have life. I hope that they got that in Dallas, just like I hope they understood my sermon in Maua.
I am convinced, though, that even if we were not quite understood because we come from different places, our intent was clear. We are bonded by a common Gospel. From Dallas to Maua, the Holy Spirit can connect. I know that Moses and the masses of Americans who heard him knew that he was pouring his soul into his prayer. Somehow, the Holy Spirit can make us understood in languages and cultures that we never knew. At least, that is what I read in Acts 2.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)