Angry Actions--February Newsletter

A student named Ibrahim answered his phone during the middle of my class for children’s workers.  Not bothering to quiet his voice, he remained seated at his place in the middle of the classroom, apparently oblivious to the disruption he was causing. Unable to continue my teaching, I marched up to him, demanded, “What are you doing?!”, ripped the cell phone out of his hand, overturned a chair, and demanded that he leave the classroom.

Not realizing that I’d talked to Ibrahim before class and asked him to participate in this illustration, most of the students in the class were shocked.  They were definitely relieved to find out we were just acting.

But Jesus was not acting when He did something similar in the Temple—overturning the tables and chasing the money changers from the Temple.  He was truly angry.  But this was nothing in comparison to His anger when the disciples told the children to leave Jesus alone.  The Greek word for Jesus’ reaction is the strongest word in the Bible that describes His anger.  Jesus loved the children and was furious that someone would try to separate them from Him.

That was the point of my outburst in the classroom.  I wanted the children’s workers see how passionately Jesus loves children and to catch that same love.  Many of the students are well on their way.  These thirty students make up the first class in the first children’s ministry school in Burkina Faso.  This nine-month program is organized by the Go to Nations team, who has asked me to teach some of their courses.

In a country where the choice to be a children’s worker means a choice to be disrespected, to settle for a low salary, and often to work alone, it is amazing to see the hearts of people who are willing to do it.  Right now I am blessed to say that we have a small group of people considering working full-time with CEF of Ouagadougou.

After working alone for so long, this came as a surprise.  But I suppose it shouldn’t have.  Look at how much Jesus loves children.  I know it’s His heart’s desire for each of the children of Burkina Faso to know Him.  Now it’s just a matter of seeing when and how He will get His beautiful message of salvation to these ones He loves infinitely.

People in Burkina Faso often transport things in two-wheeled metal carts pulled by donkeys.  This is a very slow means of transportation, but you can still get hit by a donkey cart if you happen to be waiting to cross the street and are evidently in their way.

 

Pork is not a common food in Burkina Faso, but for Christmas, a missionary family prepared pork.  While I was trying to get a picture with the roasted pig head (still in its living form), the hostess nearly dropped it on my head.  She caught it, but the impact sent pieces of roasted pig head raining down all over me.

November Newsletter--Evacuation Plan

When I wrote my evacuation plan, I didn’t think I’d ever need it.  But then the president of Burkina Faso announced that he was going to rewrite the constitution to allow himself to run for office again (he’d already been there 27 years), and people were understandably upset.  Like rioting, burning buildings, and looting upset.  As the military combated the situation, I was stuck inside for several days, trying to figure out what was going on from online news updates, which taught me a slew of French words like tear gas, martial law, shots fired, and martyr.  This was when the crisis management team at CEF headquarters called to discuss that evacuation plan.

Fortunately I never needed it.  The president stepped down and fled the country.  In the next 2-day period, we went through about 5 different “interim presidents” as the people continued protesting.  To add to the chaos, random people showed up at the national TV station to declare themselves president.  But after a brief transition headed by the military, in the end, everyone accepted our current interim president.

Throughout the whole process, I’ve been praying that God would change the former president’s heart.  Only God could do it.  Just as only God could change anyone’s heart.

I’ve been teaching an evangelistic English class for adults in my spare time.  Along with vocab and grammar, we study the Bible in English.  At the beginning of the course, I asked students to draw 4 or 5 pictures of things that describe them for a conversation activity.  One student drew a moon and star symbol, showing that Islam is very important to her.  But during our last class, we were talking about Saul’s conversion, and this student said, “I think that God chose Saul to tell people about Jesus because he was such a terrible person that when people saw how he had changed, they would know it had to be God who did it.”  When it was time for me to close the class, she said, “No, this is so interesting. I want to keep discussing.”

What I love about Saul’s conversion is that he didn’t change his mind about Jesus and then just enjoy the new information.  He had a driving desire to share this truth with everyone else.  I pray all the time that God would give me such a desire to see hearts changed, and that He would give the Christians of Burkina Faso this same desire.  The kind of desire that makes thousands of people willing to risk their lives to stand up to the military and the president.  The kind of desire that makes people take the training we give them and start a Good News Club in their neighborhood despite all the obstacles.  Only God can do that.  So I can’t thank you enough for praying with me.

September Newsletter-Poisoned Water

It was a chilly (80 degrees) morning when a Burkinabe friend arrived at my house.  When it’s hot, I know how to be a good hostess, offering water as the cultural way of expressing welcome, but since my friend arrived wearing a stocking hat, I hesitated.  Should I offer her water?  The last time I’d done this on a “cold” day, my guest had reacted like I’d offered him poison.  Since then I’d noticed a pattern: people actually believed drinking water in the morning or on a cold day could harm them. 

This time, however, my friend accepted the water and sat with me on the porch to talk.  A few minutes later, she noticed my roommate’s pet tortoise and informed me with delight that tortoises were her ancestors.  This girl was not the typical animist type; she’d just shared a testimony of growing up the daughter of a pastor but realizing at 8 years of age that she needed to make her own decision to believe in Jesus.  But she told me how each clan has a different animal as ancestor.  These ancestral animals are to be greatly respected: clans cannot eat the meat of their particular ancestral animal, and they bury these ancestral animals the same way they do humans, with elaborate funerals.

The culture is full of stories about the ancestors and stories to explain why life is the way it is.  For example, you may know that if you’re driving along and see a goat in the road, it is likely that it will run off the road, but if you see a sheep, this is most definitely NOT the case.  However you may not have known that long ago a goat and a sheep took a bus trip.  At the destination, the driver asked for their fares.  The goat paid only half and ran away; now every time he sees a car, he runs for fear that it’s the driver looking for the other half.  The sheep, however, paid with a large bill.  Instead of giving him his change, the driver sped off, so now the sheep stubbornly waits in front of every car, hoping to make the driver pay up. 

For most people here, even Christians, these stories and ideas are more than just amusing—they think they are true.  Sadly, mixed in among all these false ideas is the idea that children can’t be saved.  A good study of the Bible is all it takes to prove that this isn’t true, but sadly many churches hear of the work that CEF is doing and dismiss it because of an idea that you must be a certain age to be saved.

So now the members of the committee and I are meeting personally with pastors and Sunday School teachers, sharing with them about God’s heart for children and asking them to partner with us to reach the children in the neighborhoods all around Burkina Faso.  It is my prayer that children all over will hear God’s Word so that water doesn’t make them think of poison but rather of the living water they can drink and never thirst again.  It is my prayer that sheep in the road won’t make them think of overpaid bus fares, but of Jesus’ promise to take care of us like a shepherd cares for his sheep.

June Newsletter--Good Thing God was there

Location:  CEF of Burkina Faso national headquarters (three hours from Ouaga, where I live).  The message: what the Bible says about children.  Time allotted: 3-4 hours.  The audience:  60 pastors.

             Yep, I—who am not a pastor—was supposed to teach a group of 60 pastors about the Bible during a two-day conference aimed at spreading the vision of children’s ministry.  It was a bit unnerving.   

Good thing God was there.

At the end of my message, we gave time for questions.  One of the pastors asked, “Did I really hear you right when you said you believed in Jesus and became a Christian at just four years old?”  The other pastors sat forward, as if they too were wondering if I’d really intended to say that or just messed up my French.

“Yes,” I answered.

The pastor hesitated before continuing, “Can anyone be saved at that age?”

The Child Evangelism Fellowship^® worker who was translating to the tribal language spoken in that region interjected, “They think that Americans are smarter than Africans.  He’s asking if a Burkinabe child could really understand.”

And the good news is that they do.  I’ve seen it.  I don’t just mean I’ve seen children pray and tell Jesus they believe in Him; I’ve seen Him working through them.

By the end of the conference, the pastors (who turned out to be not so intimidating as I thought) were thanking us profusely and exhorting us to go tell all the churches in Burkina Faso about this.

Which is overwhelming.

Good thing God is here.

Not long after the conference, we formed a CEF^® committee for Ouaga.  I am no longer working alone!  Already, the committee members have been using their connections to set up meetings with pastors, which has led to teacher trainings, which in turn will lead to Good News Clubs and children being reached.

And all around the world, God is making things like this happen.  Last year, over 15 million children heard the Gospel through CEF ministries, and over five million of them believed in Christ for the first time.

Good thing God is here.

 Praise God for:

· The opportunity to see friends and family while I was in the U.S. for a conference and training.

· The members of the new CEF of Ouaga committee, who have already started working to expand the ministry.

Please pray for:

· The organization of teacher training courses during the school break (which begins in July).

· Churches that will partner with CEF to start Good News Clubs in their neighborhoods.

Fun Facts:

• Burkinabe schools often have 80 children in each class.
• The longer you own a moto (moped), the harder it is to start it, but fortunately, the neighbors are always ready to help out, and new spark plugs cost less than two dollars.
• When I asked the review game question “How did Jesus take the punishment for your sins?” one of the children responded, “On purpose!”

February 2014 Newsletter

In Burkinabe schools, you never know what to expect.  When I arrive to teach a weekly Bible class, it is not uncommon to discover the children locking each other out of the classroom and doing drum competitions on their desks because the teacher is away and the idea of substitutes has yet to catch on, while one classroom over the teacher is threatening to hit the kids with strips of tires because they’re too distracted by the noise to pay attention.

One day started out pandemonium-free, but during my first grade class, a strong gust of wind sent dust flying into the classroom accompanied by the noise of a large group of people yelling.  The kids quickly shut the windows, which, being made of metal, meant we couldn’t see outside.  The yelling grew closer; then things began to hit the tin roof with explosions of dust.  I still thought this was a symptom of the strong wind, and was beginning to wonder about the probability of tornadoes in Africa, when all the children ran outside panicked.  A group of high school students were throwing rocks at the school.  They were striking and were going around to all the schools still in session, forcing them to strike as well by making it dangerous for the kids to be at school.

Another time, I got to visit a public school.  I can’t teach the Bible weekly in public schools, but occasionally receive the opportunity to go one time to share the Gospel.  A Christian teacher at this school told me that the students would later on learn the history of Mohammed and Islam at school but would never learn anything about Jesus.  A fellow Good News Club teacher had arranged everything for the visit and invited me.  But he failed to mention that it was a deaf school, where many of the children were also mute.

Fortunately someone was available to translate into sign language, but much of the interaction I’d planned to emphasize different points for the children, such as making noises of animals God had created or seeing who can hold out the word “foreeever” longest without taking a breath, was impossible.  Because of this, I felt like the lesson was going horribly.  This might be the only chance the kids would have to hear God’s word in school, and outside of school, there were few people who would know how to talk about salvation in sign language.  And I felt like it was a disaster.

But as I began to talk about Jesus’ death, I heard a sound of combined gasping and crying out.  It was coming from one of the girls, who seemed to have no idea she was making noise, but was too touched by Jesus’ sacrifice to remain silent.  And then I realized, I may not have been prepared for this, but God was.  And He had prepared this girl’s heart as well.  His love for this girl was so powerful that it didn’t matter how imperfect my message was; He was there to insure that it got to her.  She believed in Jesus that day.

             I guess trying to anticipate what God will do any given day is as impossible as predicting what will happen at Burkinabe school.  But I suppose I really don’t want His love to stop surprising me.

November 2013 Newsletter

The realization that I’d left the chicken in the trunk overnight came at the same time as the overpowering rush of odors when I opened the car door.  I hastily cleaned out the mess, assuring my roommate that I’d find a home for the chicken later that day.  She, however, was excited about keeping it for eggs, despite my reasoning that it would be easier to walk one block to the nearest mini-store, one of thousands which are found in small shacks every other block in the city, and to pay the 20 cents per egg.  My assent is what led us to attempt to herd the chicken (which had escaped later that same day) back through our gate.  Unfortunately, we’d just picked up pizza, and were running around the street still holding the pizza boxes, while the chicken continuously got the better of us.  It was, I’m sure, quite a sight for the neighbors, who all ended up joining us in our efforts, the only reason that we finally succeeded.  As the chicken ran back through the gate, someone asked, “Are you going to make a soup?” to which I replied, “No, we’re keeping it for the eggs.”  Which only makes the whole neighbor-drawing, chicken-chasing episode more embarrassing, because that evening we discovered it was male.  The next day when I came home and discovered the chicken again strolling down the street, I merely bid it farewell.

Anyone else probably would’ve fought a little harder, chickens being so rare here (most families can afford to eat them only on holidays), which makes the gift of a chicken from someone I’d met just a few hours earlier even more touching.  I’d visited a children’s camp where I used the five colors on a special soccer ball to share the Gospel, and the other teachers at the camp were so excited to hear the Gospel presented so clearly that they had decided to give me the chicken.  They also begged me to train them, something that makes the fact that I so often look foolish here in Burkina Faso (while doing things like chasing chickens) pale in comparison to the opportunities I have to share and help others to share the Gospel.

Unfortunately the reality of life means that more often than not these opportunities are missed.  Most of our teacher trainees have not been able to start clubs for kids.  But God shows me that He is still working and still using my efforts.  At one training, a girl came from several hours away to participate.  After a few days of hearing some of the stories in my classes, she asked, “Wait, did you come to my village seven years ago?”  She proceeded to recount the Bible lesson my team had given on a short-term missions trip in 2006 when she’d been a child and told me this is what had inspired her to be a teacher.  At times like these I can’t wait to see which of the children in my clubs now will have their own clubs some day or will be receiving mischievous chickens from the teachers they’ve trained.  With some of them it’s hard to imagine, but I know God has big, exciting, beautiful plans for them, all to be revealed in His perfect time.

August 2013 Newsletter

I know what the apostle Paul means when he talks about running the race.  Having spent a decade running on track teams, I can identify with his metaphors.  But I always used to picture the spiritual life as being about a mile long.  Then for some reason, I decided to run a marathon.  In Africa.  By the end of the race, it was almost 100 degrees, and about halfway through, the race workers ran out of water to hand to the runners.  It was so difficult to say no to the buses passing by to pick up people who got tired before they arrived at the village 26 miles away, that I realized that up to this point, I’d really had no idea what Paul was talking about when he mentioned perseverance.

The fact that no one thought anything of running a race in conditions that would have cancelled a marathon in the U.S. (because such conditions can kill you) was not the only cultural difference.  Back when they had water at the beginning of the race, they handed it to us in little clear sacks.  We had to bite off a corner to open the sack and then drink out of that corner.  One worker was so eager to help that he bit off my corner for me.  I just smiled and hoped he didn’t have any communicable diseases.  But then a mile later, a kid standing in the crowd of people excitedly cheering for complete strangers, saw me, and seeing that I was a foreigner, immediately assumed I was rich and should therefore give him a gift.  Not seeing anything of value on my person, he asked for the rest of my sack of water.  Excuse me, I’m running a marathon.  I think I need this water more than you do.

But I also alternate between the two extremes.  One day, I want to do whatever I can to serve God, whether it means biting off water packet corners or staying up until two in the morning to prepare a lesson for a teacher training that day, because people here don’t often plan the details (like who is teaching what) ahead of time.  The next day, I’m begging God to change all the circumstances of my life, thinking that because I gave up so much to come to Africa, I should have my way for everything else.  I’m so focused on what I don’t have and on getting my bag of water, that I forget that it’s about Him.

 Fortunately God is familiar with my memory problems, so He keeps doing things like bringing people to our teachers’ courses who have a desire to reach children for God and have been struggling with no training and no materials, but have been faithful.  I get to tell them that the very reason I am in Africa is to serve them, to help them with these needs.  And every time one of these teachers decides to work alongside me, I realize that I may be trying to serve them, but it is really me getting the blessing.  So unless you enjoy misery, I don’t recommend running a marathon in Africa, but “running” God’s marathon is the best thing I’ve ever done.