|Posted by nuruyamapendo on December 29, 2013 at 10:55 AM||comments (14)|
I woke and began dressing and began to look for something in my backpack. Noticing that the backpack was not in my room, I went to the front room to ask Sylvain and Franck if they had borrowed it for some reason. What I saw on the table was someone’s worst nightmare. The backpack lay opened, and most of the contents were removed. Wallets containing all of my American and Congolese cash were empty. I asked Sylvain what was going on. He explained that the backpack had been strewn in the neighbor’s yard. The loud “bang” we had heard at the front door last night (which we thought was Franck’s early morning trip to the outhouse) was actually a thief who had broken into the house. He took my computer from the table in the front room, and had come into my room to also steal the backpack and any valuable items that were in sight. The list was extensive- passport, immunization card, camera, phone, portable hard drive, i-pod, some electronics accessories. Over $2000 in cash was also gone, most of which had been designated to contractors for their work within the next few days.
My initial reaction was typical. I was angry at my son Franck for leaving out the computer after he borrowed the night before. I was angry at whoever took what did not belong to them! Each of us blamed ourselves for not being more “curious” about the door banging so loudly in the middle of the night.
After the initial anger, I began thinking about “what could have been”. It was only “things” that were taken, and someone could have been there to take my life instead. Sylvain came to me in the hallway, tears streaming down his face. Without words, he was sharing my pain, but I know that he was also hurting deeply that he was not able to protect me from what had happened. I hugged him and told him that it was going to be OK, that these were just things, and that God would be victorious in this battle with Satan as well. I hurt so much for Franck, Sylvain and Dorcas who were feeling responsible for my protection.
At about 6:30am Franck and Sylvain went to notify the police and make many other phone calls/ contacts in order to obtain as much assistance as possible to locate the perpetrator. In less than 30 minutes, we had the full force of the police in town for the day, setting up road blocks at the market. Calls were made to neighboring villages, particularly Kasomeno, as it is the next “largest” village before Lubumbashi.
Knowing that there was nothing I could do personally, I decided to spend time with the Lord and pray. I walked to the church with my Bible about 9am, half-hour before the service began. I began praying the Psalms and quickly settled on Psalm 3, praying it many times in Swahili before the service. It brought me peace, and I felt God’s presence with me in the waiting. At some point during the service, Sylvain received a phone call that they “thought” the responsible party was being detained in Kasomeno, about 1.5 hours from Kasenga. Even though Pastor Marcel was in the midst of an infant baptism, most of the church members went outside the church to hear confirmation of the news. They slowly returned inside. Only a few minutes later, his son brought news that they had indeed found my computer and other items. As the news was announced to the church, a huge cry of joy erupted and the congregation started clapping. I was happy, but at the time felt I needed to stay at the church.
About 10 minutes later, Franck came to the door and told me that the police needed the truck in order to go to Kasomeno, interrogate the prisoner, and bring him to Kasenga. I agreed, since it was the only way that he would be brought to justice. I went home to drop my things, and we proceeded with the truck back to the church to pick up the police officer and an armed guard who would accompany the prisoner. Many people from the church rode with us, and so the truck had 6 inside and 4-6 others in the back of the truck! The officer wanted me to drive faster, as they wanted to find out answers to many questions, however there were only certain parts of the road that allowed for a speed of 50mph. Some parts were still wet from the rains and very slippery, so I knew that I would shoot off the road if I had to apply the brakes. I did not keep track of the time, but we arrived as quickly as possible and were escorted inside the jail. The driver who was carrying the thief was being held in an outside room, and the thief was in a small inner room. Packed inside the interior room were the passengers in the truck, as well as Pastor Mutanti and 4-6 police officers. An officiant was also present, typing notes from the conversations.
Approximately $800 of the total $2025 was missing, however the thief confessed to carrying only $1800 from the house. He was asked some questions and indicated that there was a second thief by the name of Chola who had also been given some of the money. (We later learned this was a lie.) He was asked what he purchased with the money, what he knew of the other thief, etc. I was more interested in his character and demeanor than the answers to the questions. He seemed to smile as he answered them, and it was beyond my comprehension as to how someone could be proud of taking so much from a missionary. I was told that he was from Kasenga, a habitual offender, and had actually escaped jail from a 5 year sentence in Zambia! All he could see was that I am an American, and therefore assumed to be very rich. He had no idea that I had given up all that I had in order to tell him that Jesus loved even him. I was not allowed to speak to him directly, however a picture appeared in my mind of Jesus hanging on the cross, with a thief on either side of him. One thief asked to be with Jesus in heaven that day, and the other did not. I thought about how this man, who was only 20 years old, had a choice every day to choose Jesus or to choose hell. I wanted to ask the young man if he knew that story, and give him the opportunity to know that he had other options for his life- to know that Jesus could change his life if he allowed it.
After the questions were completed, I had to verify my possessions and sign a statement. We were allowed to go outside, however could not leave until 10% of my recovery was paid. This would have been about $300-400; the policeman had also seen a “muzungu” (white) and dollar signs. Two UM pastors were allowed to go back into the station to negotiate on my behalf. I was told these bribes were common every day and were taken from everyone and not just Americans. But of course the assumption was made that I would have much more money! As the pastors pushed to lower the amount, the question was raised as to where the $600 was that had not been accounted for during interrogation. The police left to search the thief one more time and “suspiciously” returned with another $300 they had found. When I was informed, I was anxious to leave because I knew the rain was coming and the roads would be bad. I asked if the $300 could be split between the police in Kasomeno and Kasenga; the pastors returned to continue negotiations. Approximately 45-60 minutes had passed. When all parties came outside, I was told that the Kasomeno police would be taking $200 of the $300 that was “found” on the thief. (This means that the Kasomeno police had a “take” of $500 that day…Can you imagine??)
I questioned Franck on why something like this was happening to me again, and he replied “Only the Lord knows”. His answer had to be sufficient for the time being…
The car was loaded and we began our return trip to Kasenga with the taxi driver’s motorcycle and the thief in the back, accompanied by the armed guard and the other passengers. As we approached Kasenga, the rain started. We stopped and pulled out a large tarp from the tool box for the passengers in the back to be protected.
As we drove into town and near where I was staying, a mob of 1500 people began running toward the truck. The officer inside the truck told me to “split” the crowd, and to keep the vehicle moving at all costs, for the crowd was there not to welcome me, but to kill the thief. Franck told me that he knew of an incident where a thief was taken under such circumstances, placed inside a truck tire and burned to death. I was afraid at that moment for the thief, and told myself that I could not be the one responsible for his death. I split the crowd and discovered a large tree branch blocking the road in front of me. I decided to veer to the left of the branch and hit it (if necessary) in order to keep moving. The crowd surrounded the truck from all sides, but somehow God allowed the truck to keep moving. Franck and the officer were shouting directions to the jail over the roar of the crowd and showed me where to park. The officer and guard immediately yanked the thief out of the truck and across the yard into the jail. Because we had been unable to stop and pick up Sylvain, he followed us to the jail on the motorcycle and came to meet me as the thief was released. I scooped him into my arms and began sobbing for all of the stress and tension of the day. As I released him, his face was also wet with tears.
When the thief was out of sight, the emotion of the crowd changed from anger to celebration. People were jumping into the back of the truck; once I had to stop in order to pull off those hanging on the bumper. They were cheering and chanting from the truck and from the street. Some wanted to buy me a drink. Others wanted to shake my hand and thank me for bringing the thief to justice. Those who had not yet seen me just wanted to see the now-famous missionary!
By the time we arrived at the gates of Sylvain’s house, there were still hundreds of people surrounding the truck and the house. Those who were waiting at the house were those who had been praying all day when we were in Kasomeno- not just Methodists, but Catholics, evangelists, Pentacostals- all faiths!! Sylvain had stayed in Kasenga, and was telling me that it was a sight that was incredible to him. Various pastors had been leading prayers, and hundreds had assembled from the time to the arrest was announced until our arrival. It was difficult for me to comprehend. Sylvain was sharing that many had recognized what God was doing in our midst. They were making comments to him such as “this is truly a powerful God the DS and the missionary are serving, for no one could have ever recovered this thief who was running for 5-6 hours!” The people in the yard were shouting and glorifying God, and for this we were so grateful. As with each of our previous challenging adventures, this was my sole desire.
I said quietly to Franck, “do you think this is the reason why the thief came today?” And he smiled.
As I write this, I am still missing my passport with my DRC visa that cost dearly at $2000. But we are posting and announcing a reward if it is returned, and praying for God to work yet another miracle. The thief did not want it, and threw it on the ground near where he emptied the money. We are praying that someone picked it up as a curiosity and will return it for the reward. We ask you to pray with us, too.
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on December 3, 2013 at 3:10 AM||comments (26)|
If you love someone, you will never do them wrong; to love, then, is to obey the whole Law.-Romans 13:9-10
I’ve been in Lubumbashi now 2 weeks, waiting for my container and truck to clear the border and move to the Kasenga District of the DRC. Because of the financial hardship caused by SAA in Johannesburg 6 weeks ago, I am obligated to stay with a host family during this time rather than pay for the Methodist Guest House.
A meal in Africa takes 3 hours to prepare and is eaten once a day. In most cases, the meal will consist of sadza/bukari (the staple of the diet made with finely ground corn meal), a cooked vegetable (cabbage, cassava leaves, pumpkin leaves, or amaranth leaves, etc), sometimes a thin sauce flavored with tomatoes and onions, and if you are extremely lucky- a little meat.
Why does meal preparation take so long? There are many reasons: a) usually there is no electricity and so a charcoal fire has to be prepared, b) water has to be hauled and heated in order to cook, c) the common cookstove (similar to a hibachi grill) is small and only accommodates one pan at a time and d) this is considered “women’s work” and so you will never see anyone other than young girls assisting their mother with the meal preparation.
I am grateful for this former GBGM African family (who speaks English) willing to take in a stranger from the U.S., however I have struggled with the extra work that I am causing in their home. It’s true that they would have to prepare a meal for the family “anyway”, however my son told them that I don’t care much for bukari, and so they prepare rice “special” for me each day as an act of hospitality. How did my preference add to their daily workload?
Americans (especially women!) use a lot of toilet paper, and all paper products in the DRC are very expensive because they are imported. Fortunately I had carried a few rolls in my spare bag, and I offer “every other roll” as they are replaced until my supply is gone.
The water supply is difficult in Lubumbashi because of the electricity problem. This adds the requirement to boil water for safe drinking! Every time I brush my teeth, use the toilet, take an African “splash bath”, wash out my 3 outfits of clothing or require a refill in my water bottle I am causing someone else to haul and replace water. How my consumption adds to their daily workload!
I am humbled at their willingness to serve me. Out of respect for my age, I am called “Mom” and “Grandma”, and not allowed to clean or work in the kitchen. The furthest I have progressed is to be able to wash a few clothes and haul a few buckets of water. My African daughters-in-law, Carine and Dorcas, daily indicate their joy in being able to cook and clean for me. I am reminded of what I have known since my first visit in 2006- that Africans know and give great love. I am also reminded of how much we Americans have to learn about selfless love. While I learn to love more generously, I pray each day that I will do no harm to those who love so much- and that God will forgive me if I do!
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on November 28, 2013 at 8:50 AM||comments (22)|
Stores are open in Lubumbashi for business, and commuters have flooded the taxis as usual for their morning commute. There is nothing remarkable about this day here. It is going to be hot- the usual cool and soft breeze was missing this morning and no rain last night; it will probably be in the 90s this afternoon. No family, no special dinner being prepared, and no football games will be on TV (even “football” here, which is soccer). So what do I have to be thankful for on this Thanksgiving Day?
I was promised to see the truck today, however it was not driven from the border; that promise will fall through yet again. I actually dreamed last night of the praise that I would give to God if it arrived on Thanksgiving Day (does that count??) I am told now that the container and the truck will clear together on Saturday. We will see…
I am thankful for my family at home and my church family who have been so loving and supportive during this time of agonized waiting. I am thankful for my God who through His grace has given me the strength to endure all the trials, corruption, and lies in the waiting- the God who says in Isaiah 26 that He will “keep in perfect peace those whose minds are steadfast, because they trust in Him.”
I am thankful for the team that God has formed to run Nuru Ya Mapendo. He is working in us as we wait for the container, growing us in Christ, and growing us in love and respect for each other. Each of us realizes that NYM will not succeed without each of the team members. I would never be successful in the DRC without locals to assist me, as I will never be “African” no matter how much I love the African people! Their counsel and advice is indispensible to me. Likewise, we would not succeed without the connection of the District Superintendent to the church network and pastors. Same is true related to the experience and training of the local Operations Manager in African (local) agricultural practices. Just like the church Body, God has gifted each of us uniquely to contribute and serve Him. None of us had ever planned or visioned this partnership. But God planned it from the beginning. Together we marvel at His wisdom and give him praise each day.
Every day should be Thanksgiving! We have a God who loves us- so much that he sacrificed his own son so that we would not have to pay the price for our own sin. How can we dare go a day without thanking Him for this unspeakable gift?? I may not be able to enjoy a turkey dinner, but I have the promise of turkey for 2014 (the gift of a pair of turkeys for NYM soon) . I may not be with my family on this holiday, but I have the promise of eternal life with the family of God!
Thank you Father for so many blessings…
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on November 22, 2013 at 7:05 AM||comments (17)|
Living in Africa requires some special skills when navigating the metropolis of Lubumbashi, a city of 1.2 million. As with many metropolitan areas, infrastructure has not kept up with growth, particularly in the areas of traffic, electricity and water. The number of cars has increased dramatically, but so has the number of pedestrians!
Without proper pathways and traffic signals, pedestrians must navigate between partial sidewalks, bridges across open sewers, and narrow dirt pathways along the side of the paved streets. There becomes a constant “up and down” and “side to side” rhythm to this navigation. Cars and taxis back out suddenly from parking spaces. Car doors open from parallel-parked cars. Several people approach from the opposite direction, and one must make an immediate decision whether to move or hold ground. At the same time, you are climbing up and down steps, hopping across broken pavement or potholes, and trying to cross the road.
Crossing the streets is entirely different adventure. Large intersections have cars approaching from 4 directions without traffic signals or stop signs. I have seen a few red stoplights, however they seem to be ignored; cars approach the intersection slowly and proceed on their way! With drivers watching the approaching cars, pedestrians are on their own, and there appears to be no rule that they have any right-of-way- and certainly no assistance with traffic signals. One can easily find themselves straddling the middle of the street after passing behind a moving vehicle, only to find that approaching traffic from the other direction is moving quickly and without pause! This calls for a mad dash to the other side as soon as the line of cars slows or comes to a stop. Once you have reached the opposite side of the street, the “up and down” and “side to side” rhythm resumes.
One cannot leave this subject without also discussing the use of the car horn. Horns seem to have replaced the need for traffic and warning signs. Horns are used to notify pedestrians that they are too close to the road or are crossing in the way. They are used prod backing cars to move, and to rush taxis which are pulling over to the side. Cars use horns to notify motorcycles that they are approaching from behind, while the motorcycles weave in and out of the traffic lanes. And even on occasion, the horn is used to move a stray animal rom the roadway.
Can you envision the symphony? “Up and down” and “side to side”, dodge- honk, honk. Dash agin, up and down, side to side, honk, honk. Look both ways, in and out, honk, honk, honk. Yes this is also a rhythm of Africa.
I have not yet mastered the symphony, but after a few days in the city, I have become acquainted with the rhythm.
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on November 11, 2013 at 3:20 AM||comments (16)|
The sun began to lower in the horizon, ushering in the silver-gray cast that falls on Africa before the black night. I commented to Sylvain how this was one of my favorite times of day. It was calm and soothing, a foreshadowing of the evening rest to come. The dim grays faded to black around 6:30, and yet we were only about 90km from the city.
I was unable to see down the road due to the headrest in front of me, but the rain began beating the car roof again. I could hear by the loud splashes that it had been raining here for quite some time, and the familiar gulley-washes and ruts jarred the car from time to time. My mind raced back to the frequent night-time journeys in Zimbabwe from campus to LaRochelle. Overhead thunder rumbled and lightning shook the ground at the same time it was visible. It was a close one!
My mind wandered to seeing the pastors and church members again. I thought about my deliverance from Johannesburg and all of the hundreds of details in that process. I thought about seeing my new home for the first time. I thought about everything that had been done for the ministry in Africa since I was there 16 months ago. I didn’t know when I would see the pastors or church members, but the questions kept popping in my head “Mon Dieu, q’uest ce qu’il a fait?” (My God, what is he doing?) and “Mon Dieu, q’uest ce que vous avait fait?” (My God, what have you done?)
On our way again once again, the pastor struggled to speak English and I struggled to speak French. Sylvain and I decided on a new name for my adopted language- “baby French”- or “francais bebe”. I indicated to Sylvain that he would be the one to notify me when I had graduated. The pastor in front laughed and said “I speak baby English!”. I said “We are equals then!” and we all had a good laugh. The pastor said that he was very happy.
Sylvain continued to receive calls. Dorcas, the district pastors, and lay leaders were all asking “Where are you?” and “When are you coming?” He explained that the rain had slowed us, never mentioning all of the unscheduled stops we had made along the way. It was now just after 7pm, and some had been waiting since 2:30pm.
The rain continued in the blackness, and we arrived at Sylvain’s house just before 8pm. The bags were pulled off the top of the Land Rover and our hosts departed. I was shown to my room (which I’m sure was Sylvain and Dorcas’ room) and they explained because of the rain and the time of night that they wanted to have me in their house that night. Just as we returned to the front room, the pastors of the District began to file in! All of the parishioners who had waited so long were now headed home. Sylvain told me that the pastor of Jerusalem parish had prepared a short prayer service for us. He opened with “It is Well With My Soul”, one of David’s favorite hymns, and I could barely keep back the tears. Even in this dark night he was with me. The pastors offered prayers of praise for safe arrival. They informed me that they (and all of their churches) had been praying for me unceasingly since I had “gone missing” in Johannesburg. They asked me to tell the story of what happened there and I obliged, ending the narrative with Psalm 62 which sustained me during that time. One pastor said for the group “we are grateful that God gave you such peace during this trying time”. We sang two more hymns, prayed together in unison, and we parted for the evening.
After the prayer session I was offered a “splash bath” with warm water, and a small meal of rice, chicken and cooked cabbage. While the heat in the bedroom was suffocating, I was grateful to be using my own pillow for the first time in 2 weeks and to be clean! The power had been out most of the evening due to the rain, so even my fan purchased in Lubumbashi could not be a comfort. I lay inside my mosquito net, listening to Sylvain and the children going up and down the hall getting ready for bed. I listened to a new sound of an African frog species in a puddle in the yard, the chickens settling in for the night, and the dog barking. And finally, the last candle in the hallway was extinguished and it was quiet. I was in Kasenga. I was now “home”.
God’s grace is the gift of “home”, wherever that may be…
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on October 25, 2013 at 12:30 AM||comments (12)|
I want to thank you all so much for praying for me this past week. It has been an incredible testimony to the power of prayer. I breezed through Johannesburg airport this morning and had no problem with my temporary visa.
I have an absolutely AWESOME team here in DRC. Each is uniquely and especially gifted. When they come together as a team, it is a sight to behold!
As I walked off the plane, there were 3 members of the Bishop's team there to welcome in addition to Sylvain (2 more sons, Eric and Franck joined us inside). Before even hitting customs, I was handed an original copy of the visa. I was processed in just a few minutes to obtain a new visa, picked up my carry-on bag and we were on our way!
Before leaving the airport, I was able to see the Wings of the Morning plane in the hanger. It is really pretty amazing.
Outside the airport, we proceeded to a government building where I filled out numerous forms, provided passport photos, and was fingerprinted not once- but twice! (At Sylvain's notation, I was now "African-colored"!) After a 48 hour wait period, the courier will be heading to Kinshasa to obtain the missionary resident visa. We all need to pray that it is processed as quickly as possible in order to process the container through customs. (Good news is that today I was notified that the container is delayed another 3 days, so both ends of the process are working.)
After fingerprints, I was taken to the guest house where we filled out several more forms that were needed for the visa that will be picked up tomorrow morning. The team working with me have such clout that the vice-chancellor told one of the team today that if there are any problems that we should give him a call! I truly cannot believe some days what God has done in my midst; I am so blessed!
I was informed that yesterday the government "changed hands" (whatever that means) and many who work for the government fear loss of their jobs. I have to say, no one at the airport looked very happy today. Banks and businesses were shut down as a result, but I am told that they should re-open tomorrow. We exchanged money the "usual" Congolese way- in the street! (I send my sons...)
I closed the day with my African family, we viewed photos of my new home in Kasenga, shared a meal as communion, and offered many prayers of thanksgiving for His mercy and grace.
As I close encased in my mosquito netting for the night, I thank you again for your prayers. My daughters and I testify to you that IT WORKS and IT DOES MAKE A DIFFERENCE! My blessing for tonight is that I located 2 fans in the guest house and have a lovely breeze, and hopefully a wonderful night's sleep.
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on October 16, 2013 at 1:10 PM|
I found it no coincidence this fall when planning some retreat weekends for women that God led me to the topic of friendship. I was thinking about all of the people that I would be saying “good-bye” to- church friends, special groups, customers, co-workers and family. (This was going to be a lengthy and difficult process, and emotionally painful.) While I was not leaving “forever”, the reality is that absence affects and changes relationships with those we love.
During the retreats we talked about the richness that friendships give to our lives, and how those friendships are deepened and enriched further when God is at the center. In 2 Samuel, the Bible tells the story of Jonathan and David, whose souls were bonded so closely that “they were knit together”. They trusted and respected each other to the level that they were always willing to confront each other with the truth- and do so with love. This type of friendship is something that God wants for us. We are given the opportunity to experience God’s love for us through others. This does not “just happen”- it must be an intentional part of our Christian growth.
Following the retreats, I gave my notice at work. My heart was touched deeply as I watched several co-workers’ faces reflect sadness for my leaving, but also tears of joy that my dream of serving in Africa was really coming true. The company announced the staff changes to our customers and auditors, and messages started to flood my in-box. Throughout this process, I asked the question of several co-workers, “Why do we wait until someone is leaving to let them know that they are special to us and how much we appreciate them?”
I have been given the rare privilege to develop new and lasting relationships on both sides of the globe. Wherever we are planted, let’s not ever take them for granted! They are a precious gift from the Lord.
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on June 24, 2013 at 9:40 PM||comments (1)|
As I continue speaking to churches about Nuru Ya Mapendo, I continue to challenge and think about the picture of the Kingdom of God that I have in my mind. I receive questions about why someone would leave a good job, a home, a family and all the conveniences that being an American affords me. My answer is usually “because I answer to a high power. Because I am called.”
Why Africa? I can’t explain that either, it just “is”. A relative over the weekend listened to the challenges I would be facing during my first few months in Kasenga, and asked “Do you really have peace about this decision? You’re talking about things most people can’t even imagine and you are so calm about it!”
I breathed a sigh and I replied “I have more peace about this than anything I have ever done in my entire life. ..and that is how I know it is true.”
God through His Spirit gave me a tiny vision about His Kingdom during my first visit to Africa in 2006. Because the realization of His Kingdom is important to God, it has become very important to me. My words are very simplistic and I boldly make the disclaimer that I am not omniscient!
The Church is part of the Kingdom, but it is not the whole. I believe that the Kingdom is the most challenging place of the deepest human need. The Kingdom requires a network- a family if you will- to partner, to work, to realize and meet that deepest need. The unique and wonderful gifts that God has given to us are used to perfection, yieldng the fruits of the Spirit to the giver, and a unique sense of wholeness to the recipient. There are no barriers to belong to this family- not color, not gender, not tribe, not social standing, not border, not country.
The way to meet that need is experimental and flexible, often changing as participants move in and out of the network. It is also unlimited in its scope of outreach, based on the commitment and the passion of its servants. Meeting this deepest need is not dependent upon the recipient’s response, nor is it dependent upon a verbal presentation of the Gospel. Jesus is able to sort out the truth according to the love that is given, according to those who are willing to lay all of their life down so that others may live.
This is the wonderful mystery known as mission- how God can use His family to send, to give, to support, to encourage, to pray, to work, to network, to communicate, to love- all to reach and meet the deepest human need. Whenever we humans get it all “right”, there will no longer by any need for mission. His Kingdom will have been realized, and we will all rejoice in the greatness of God. How I long for that day, to rejoice that LOVE has won! I give God the rest of my life to bring it sooner.
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on April 14, 2013 at 7:05 PM||comments (16)|
Just completed an intense 4 days in United Methodist Volunteer Missionary Training conducted by GBGM (General Board of Global Ministries) at Garrett Seminary in Envanston, IL. Some material was familiar, but learned a lot of new things and continue to "process" all of the cultural differences that will be coming my way in the next few years. It's so diffcult to force ourselves to think outside our little "box" that we have created in our individualistic society. I'm sure it's easier for the younger generation, as the world has become so much smaller with heightened technology. I enjoy learning from them, my attempt to keep life "fresh" and "new".
Best part of the week was the bonding of our class, the variety of backgrounds, the diversity of cultures represented, and the understanding which comes from sharing the deepest part of ourselves. These are Kingdom-Growers, and a smile comes to my face each time I think about them. I fill with anticipation for what God will do with each life, because like me they are passionate to make a difference. And we know that if we have even made a difference in the life of just one, it will have been worth the journey. God is smiling, and He is pleased. I can't wait to follow each one and learn how their lives are shaped, are grown, and are used to touch others!
So here's to you, Mama Bear Go Team- fill yourselves with the One who sent you, and release the love and power of he risen Jesus Christ out into a lonely and hurting world. May He protect you physically, spiritually and emotionally as He leads you into greater things than you ever dreamed possible. Mungu amibariki (May God bless you), Jane
|Posted by nuruyamapendo on January 30, 2013 at 9:20 PM||comments (0)|
As busy as Bishop Katembo's office is, his formal request for a missionary was sent today to GBGM; praise the Lord! At the same time, I was informed that I can enroll for Volunteer Missionary training in Chicago in April 2013. I am excited for what God will teach me, and happy to meet others who will be sent around the world to serve the Lord. May everything be used to His glory.