Tag Archives: missions

Making Our Way the Only Way We Know How

When you venture to another country why not throw in a two plus hour worship service in a city about 30 minutes out of the way, a two hour stop at the border, and a sit down dinner. But that’s just how we roll.

Bruce Sinclair and I are traveling to Kenya in order to teach a class on church planting. Bruce is the MTW team leader in Uganda and thus my team leader. It is a wonderful blessing to get to teach God’s Word to a sweet group of saints in Kenya.

Bruce preaches on Daniel in Tororo.

Bruce preaches on Daniel in Tororo.

Yet this opportunity requires a 6-7 hour drive. We left at 6:30 am in order to worship with one of Bruce’s former students in a city about 3 hours away. But not only were we to worship God with them but Bruce was also invited to preach. It was a wonderful experience to meet pastor Ben Okware and the congregation.

After the service we spent about 30 minutes visiting with the pastor in his home in typical African fashion. We then left for the Uganda/Kenya border. We were hungry as it was now around 12:30 pm.

Our driver suggested eating once we crossed the border. So we said that was ok. I mean how long could the border crossing take? My stomach would later rebel at this decision.

When we got out of the car our driver pointed ahead and said we needed to go to a building about 100 yards away. Because of my torn meniscus I have a crutch with me because my knee will hurt if I walk too much on it. I decided to leave the crutch in the car as the distance wasn’t great. I thought to myself that it wasn’t too far and I would be back in the car in no time. No worries or as they say in Swahili hakuna matata. Well there was matata. The distance was more like 500 yards as the building I though he was pointing towards was much closer than our actual destination. Rookie mistake. Don’t worry I made it again.

The first step in the border crossing is the get the exit stamp. So we filled out our departure papers and picked the shorter of two lines. Then a man decided he liked our line better. Bruce wasn’t as appreciative of his joining our line and gave him a slight shoulder bump while informing him of his lane change. After the line didn’t move for a few minutes he moved of both lines.

If only that man had gone to the back of the other line he would have finished 10 minutes ahead of us. Like in the grocery store, you want to pick the shortest line. Picking the wrong line leaves you angry with yourself and makes you feel like you lost the game. But when the other line basically laps you then you have really chosen poorly. We chose poorly. The irony is that another guy tried to cut into our line. This time I went into defensive maneuvers in order to protect our place. Let’s just say I was defensive MVP of the day.

My neighbors while worshiping in Tororo, Uganda.

My neighbors while worshiping in Tororo, Uganda.

The next step in border crossing is to cross the border and get the entry stamp from the receiving country. We met our driver at the car. He was working on his exit stamp and getting the mandatory insurance for the car to drive in a foreign country. As he was still working we thought we would walk to the next part of the process to save time. Did I get my crutch? That’s a big fat negative. Matata. The walk was much longer this time. While my knee did hold up well enough it was certainly getting tired. If you think I would learn my lesson but then you forget how thick my skull is sometimes.

Knee issues aside it was time to wait in line again. This time it was to get our entry stamp. The good news is that we didn’t have to pick a line. There was only one and it was relatively short. As a matter of fact we didn’t even have time to fill out our forms entirely before it was our turn. The short line didn’t prevent some people from thinking their line began in front of us instead of at the back.

Bruce and I each gave our paperwork, passports, and money at the same time. I am not sure why it took so long but the line tripled in length and width. I was designated to stay and collect both of our passports.

Two people from me, I saw a man wearing a kufi and so knew he was a Muslim. He also looked tired with me taking too much time. However, I decided to talk to him while I waited. His name is Osama and he is from Somalia. He asked about me and I told him I was a pastor. This brought questions about Jesus. Osama stated that Jesus wasn’t God. I told him that the Quran says to read the Injil (that is the New Testament) and that the Injil says Jesus is God. I told him the story from Mark 2 about how Jesus forgave sins and this is something only God can do. It was then my time to go and the passport stamper told me to keep preaching the gospel. I told Osama I would pray for him. I have and ask you do also pray that He would come to know the true God.

The end of the walking then arrived but the waiting wasn’t as the car needed more time. It was now 3:30 pm and no food had been consumed. It was about here that my stomach’s revolt began. My knee on the other hand was rejoicing. Joy in the midst of suffering.

From the border we made our way to Eldoret where we were meeting our host for the week in Abraham Kogo. This three hour trip was not slowed down by a stop for food. We couldn’t decide if we did eat if it would be a late lunch or an early dinner. So we just didn’t eat at all save the snacks that were already on board.

After meeting Abraham at 6:30 pm, we sat down to dinner/breakfast. I am not sure how to classify it. It was the first meal of the day but it was at 6:30pm. They didn’t have pizza so we went with meat samosas. A lost plate of French fries made its home at our table. It was at this point that Abraham informed us that his wife would be upset if we ate too much here and didn’t eat her dinner. So I put a brake on my eating because my stomach shrank and I was getting too full too quick. It was worth it as the meal at Abraham’s was large and good.

We left there and headed to Abraham’s house arriving at 8:15 pm. So after 13+ hours of travel we arrived at our destination. But what a wonderful trip it was. We got to worship with fellow saints and Bruce got to preach. We got to tell some Muslims and others about Jesus, and we got to have table fellowship with our Kenyan hosts. So the long trip was a good one and we praise God not only for our safe arrival but our wonderful adventures along the way.

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I Am Afraid but I Will Not Fear

I am a missionary and I am afraid.  In just a few days my family and I will leave all that we know and love.  We will leave for a foreign country.  We will be gone for two full years.

I am a missionary and I am not afraid.  I am not afraid for the reasons most others mention.  I am not afraid of a lack of modern amenities.  I am not afraid of wild animals.  I am not afraid of political unrest.  I am not afraid of local crime.  I am not afraid of disease.  I am not afraid of the food, water, or language barrier. I am not afraid this is not God’s call on my life. 

I am a missionary and I am afraid.  I am afraid that I will fail.  I am afraid my ministry will fail.  I am afraid I will not make an impact for Christ.  I am afraid that I will make a mockery of Christ.  I am afraid temptation may overcome me.  I am afraid a besetting sin will cause me to stumble.  I am afraid my family will struggle.  I am afraid the team will struggle.  I am afraid the locals might not accept me. 

I am a missionary and I know.  I know God says He will never leave me nor forsake me. I know that whether all others’ or my worst fears come to fruition that no tribulation or distress or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword or height or depth or anything else in all creation can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus my Lord.  I know God numerous times in His Word tells His people, “Do not fear.”  I know I must trust Him who sends me and nothing else.

I am a missionary and I am afraid but I will not fear. 

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