On this page Called-to-Serve's two permanent missionaries who are living full-time on the mission field, Elton and Barbara Cooke will post "journal entries."
The entries will be as current as possible, and their will be gaps, but by reading this you can get a idea of the evolution of their missionary journey
Is there anything in your life that causes you to take a second look?
They were kneeling. The entire Maasai choir of nineteen were on
their knees, each person with both hands raised toward heaven. All
were looking up. Two were standing looking up with their hands raised.
They were looking and seeing something the two hundred plus in the
sanctuary were not seeing. The song was quiet. The dramatic
demonstration was moving. Slowly the song ended. The two standing
gradually joined their friends with worship written on their faces and
in their kneeling adoration. There were twenty-one in all, four men
draped in red striped material, seventeen women dressed in navy
blue and white Maasai dresses. Each lady had two large white necklace-
type ornaments that bounced if the music was more animated. Each
lady had white-beaded headgear. It was a wonderful thing to see with
the human eye, but it was so perfectly choreographed, it was heard by
heart ears.
The four men were deep basses. The women were high soprano, soprano,
contralto and alto. The sound was harmony at its best. It was dynamic
when it stopped. The silence had its positive affect on the hearers.
The sermon was "The Trumpet of the Lord." To close the service, the
worship leader had the congregation sing, "Stand up, stand up for Jesus,
the trumpet calls 'obey.'"
I jot myself notes of instruction each week. I had told myself to do
something different when I wrote an article this week.
When I walked down the aisle to preach at the 7:30 A.M. service (later
I preached at the 11:00 A.M. service), at Siwandeta Lutheran Church in
the village of Ngateu, I approached the pulpit between two choirs. The
two ministers, one evangelist, and two deacons dressed in white seated
themselves on a bench by the church wall, giving my interpreter and me
the seats on either side of the altar, covered in green. On it were the
open Bible before a wooden cross with a lighted candle on either side.
Liturgies were read, and a church full of people stood to pray and to sing.
I was included in everything the clergy did to prepare for worship.
At the close of the service, my interpreter and I were given purple shukas.
Barbara was given a Maasai dress with necklace, bracelet and earrings to
match the adornments on the dress.
I whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for the experience. And I had my article.
I asked God to help me share it with you.
After church, all present joined us in a circle in the church yard. A hen, a
dozen eggs, a bag of mangoes, a bunch of bananas, a bottle of milk were
auctioned to the church members. Somebodies had brought them and given
them as offering to the church. Whatever they were auctioned for went into
the offering plates. They did not have the "widow's mite," but they had given.
To close the morning activities, I read my sermon Scripture again for all to
leave that circle and morning worship and go home. Then I had prayer.
We want so badly for you to see what we see and to feel what we feel.
Your gifts make it possible to be where God wants us.
Your prayers give us what we need to minister.
Thank you.
Adam, Damas, and Ndani sat with Barbara and me
in our front yard. I listened as the four of them talked.
Ndani understood English and shyly translated Swahili
to us and English to Adam and Damas. All three were
young electricians. They had come to fix bad, corroded
wiring all over our compound. As the electricians were
preparing to leave, a light fixture that was broken and
hanging dangerously from the ceiling was checked.
The three young men were waiting with us for their
supervisor to go and buy a new light fixture and to
return. The lead electrician, Kennedy, had rode off
on his piki-piki to buy the replacement. The five of us
sat and talked. Two different cultures and two
different languages were communicating. Adam was
17. The other two were older. All three of them
were single. All three of the young men belonged
to a church. It was obvious they enjoyed their churches.
Each young man was given a bottle of water (maji)
and all three were brave enough and adventurous
enough to put Crystal Lite (lemonade flavor) in their
bottles of water. They shook the bottles and drank.
Tanzanians do not like sweet, but the sour/sweet
Crystal Lite pleasantly surprised all three. It was a
fun time.
Losimingori Baptist Church, a Maasai church, was
where we worshiped Sunday. We visited the pastor,
Yohana Tidaay and his wife, Paulina, and their six
children, all under 10. As we walked through the door
we met frightened eyes on the faces of the two parents.
On one of their sofas lay a beautiful little ten-year-old
daughter, Tumaini. She had just been bitten by a
spider. She was too weak to stand and perspiration
beaded up on her face. In the First Aid kit in our
car was medicine for bee stings, cooling packets and
aspiring for pain. None of it would complicate matters.
All of it might help especially with the anxiety. The
spider had been caught and placed in an envelope to
show to a doctor.
Tumaini cooled down and relaxed. She slept quietly.
There was no swelling, no sign of any more serious
looking reactions to the bite. She drank lots of water,
but the bean/maize dinner was refused. We had prayer
and left. Tumaini was hospitalized. She was in the
hospital, such as they are, and she would be watched
by people more trained than her parents. Yohanna, her
father, stayed with her. She was shivering cold, but her
father kept fanning her because she was so hot. Again
we had prayer in the hospital ward. Tumaini was the
oldest of the six children. Paulina stayed in Losimingori
with her other five. We praise God the insect bite was
not fatal. It made the child very ill, but hopefully once
she left Selian Hospital, she would be completely well.
We have learned not to script or to imagine what
is going on in Tanzanian minds. There is an innocence
in this culture other cultures do not show. Because we
are from a more educated culture, we always imagine
the worse. Why is that?
Our guard, Francis, came to us and announced that
we had two guests at the front gate. It was Mathias
Joseph, who we had helped in his secondary school, and
his mother, Rhoda. There are two other sons and the
father is in prison. They live in one room here in
Arusha. We had not seen them since we had taken
Mathias to the hospital with pneumonia and we had
taken Rhoda to buy meat and vegetables to help Mathias
get well. That was two months ago.
Rhoda was dressed beautifully in tan kangas with maroon
designs on them. Mathias was dressed like a typical teen
with jeans and a fleece jacket zipped tight under his chin,
like he was cold. He wore the brightest white shoes. They
were long-toed like a European shoe. He must have just
polished them. He had to have dodged all the mud holes
on the road to our house.
Barbara and I, Mathias and Rhoda (who speaks no
English) sat down together. It was awkwardly quiet.
After some encouragement, Mathias spoke, "I want to
apologize. If I have done anything wrong, I am sorry."
Barbara an I sat up to assure the boy he had done
nothing. Then he said, "My mother asked me if I had done
something wrong to you, because we have not seen you
for a long time."
Our excuses of busyness seemed so lame, compared
to the young man's and his mother's apology. They
felt they had wronged us. The conclusion of that meeting
was to get out the calendar and Mathias, who is on
vacation from school, will go with us. Often.
The entire time he was apologizing, I was thinking
"This is a courageous young man. To walk to our house
with his mother and on his mind and heart and lips was
an apology. Only God knows what is going on inside
that boy."
We are list makers. Each day we check off what we
have done. The accomplished check-marks have their
way of giving worth to our day. None of the three things
we experienced or the people we met were on our lists.
God had planned it and we were blessed.
I read as I was writing this article, "God does not
demand a mountain of faith - merely a mustard-seed
amount. We need to recommit ourselves to him. He is
still the vine. We are still the branches. Choose to
belong to Jesus Christ and let Him change us, work through
us, empower us to love and to serve our brothers and bear
their burdens.
Like you, we only know what is happening in our lives.
I have written about three things that have made life for us
this week. We try to imagine what is happening in your
lives. We pray God is blessing you. "In all thy ways
acknowledge Him and He will direct thy paths." Proverbs 3:5-6
He does. He is directing.
"If we say we live in God, we must live the way Jesus lived."
I John 2:6
Be conscious of what happens everyday and glorify God
in everything you do.
Called to Serve needs your gifts.
Called to Serve needs your prayers.
Thank you for giving and for praying.
"Our Daily Prayer--This is what we pray.
1. that God will make you completely sure of what he wants by giving you all the wisdom and spiritual understanding you need.
2. that this will help you live in a way that brings honor to the Lord and pleases Him in every way.
3. that your life will produce good works of every kind and that you will grow in your knowledge of God.
4. that God will strengthen you with his own great power so that you will be patient and not give up when troubles come.
Colossians 1:9-11
We are on two sides of the ocean, but the prayer of Paul for the Colossians is a prayer we all need.
In that prayer are four things to pray will happen in our lives.
1. Completely sure (Make us.)
2. Please Him (Help us.)
3. Produce good works (May that be our life's purpose.)
4. Strengthen with his power (We're weak without it.)
I introduce you to 20 men who have shown that to me in Tanzania.
They called him Abraham. I call him Abraham Laizer. Abraham and Beatrice have six children. Abraham has often interpreted for me. He is 53 and has insightful wisdom. He is a pastor and has worked for Christian Mission Fellowship. I have preached in his church. He has opened his home to care for visitors I have had from Kenya. Abraham has helped me write African Stories. I call him often, having visited with him and Beatrice Wednesday of this week.
They called him Lot. I call him Lot Olturai. Lot is 16. He is Maasai. He has worked hard with teams from the USA, constructing Kimokouwa Kanisa. He is in Form 1, the first level of high school. He is doing his studies at Peace House Secondary School. It had to be a God-thing. Lot adopted us about two years ago. I went to get Lot last week to help him get home for a one month break from school. He is one of eight children. His father is dead. He is number one in all of his classes. Everyone at Peace House is impressed with his study discipline and his excellence as a student.
They called him Isaac. I call him Isak Lyimo. Isak works at IMARA, an Australian Christian service organization. He is the father of Ebenezer (4) and Derek (2). He has written several articles in Swahili to teach Tanzanians to be better Christians. I have spoken at his church, Sekei Lutheran,three times. Isak has been my interpreter. I held a Greek class in his and Upendo's home. He travels throughout Tanzania encouraging churches.
They called him Moses. I call him Moses Kitoo. Moses is Maasai. He is 19. I have stayed in his brother's boma. Actually, I stayed with Moses' mother. He called me last week just to say "hello." He speaks good English. I met Moses at Kimokouwa where he leads worship every time the church doors are opened. It was New Year's Eve, December 31, 2008. We brought in the new year eating goat under the stars of the new year. He translates into Maasai for his people to hear and to understand. He went with the Water2Wine men to show us where the watering holes had been. We saw only dead zebra.
They called him Samuel. I call him Samuel Lel. Samuel was in six of my classes at Mount Meru University. He is now chaplain at St. Patrick's Secondary School and he teaches at Lazeli High School for Girls, where I preached this past Sunday and Barbara taught songs. Samuel is from Kenya. He and his wife have 6 children. They are also raising 9 others, which they have taken from the streets of Nairobi, Kenya. They are caring for, feeding and educating 15 young people to become Christian leaders when they are grown. His smile is captivating and Samuel has not met a stranger. He is bold in his witness.
They called him Eli. I call him Elius. (Elius Mosses Mollel). He is like our son. Elius is single, looking for a Christian wife, is a business graduate of Mount Meru University, and in his 20's. He worked with World Vision in Tanga for two years. He is now in Mwanza, doing social work. He is Maasai and has interpreted many times for me with the Maasai. He was the first Maasai who laughed unashamedly at me. I was served a strip of goat meat cut with a panga from a leg of goat. Elius was laughing so hard everyone noticed. I asked, "What are you laughing at?" He was almost crying from laughter. He said, "Elton, you should have seen your face when they handed you that strip of meat."
They called him David. I call him Daudi (David) Gachebe. David also sat in several of my classes. He was number one in his graduating class. He is from Kenya, as is his wife, Jacinta. They speak fluent English. David has introduced me to many pastors. I cannot count the number of times David has translated for me. David is one of the most dynamic sincere believers I have worked with.
They called him Obed. I call him Obedi Laizer. I met Obedi the first time in Longido. He was strapping a plastic baptistry to the top of a Land Cruiser. He is Maasai, now the father of three daughters. In Kimokouwa he leads worship. It blesses me to see how a young man, now a family man, motivates and leads in his church. I love to watch him sing. He pretends he has a mike in his hand. He is an excellent worship leader.
They called him Joshaphat. I call him Josephat (Samaritan). Josephat gets married this year. His new wife will become the mother, as Josephat is the father of 27 orphans from one week to thirteen years- old when she says "I do." She will move into Samaritan Village Orphanage with her new husband. When a baby is dumped, Josephat is called and he names the abandoned child, and gives all his children the last name of Samaritan. He has become the community pastor, for nightly he leads worship services in the Samaritan Village chapel. The people fill the building to overflow.
They called him Jeremiah. I call him Jeremia Milya. Jeremia is a Maasai single and he teaches over 300 children every Saturday. He works for Compassion International. He is a small man with a big heart for children and for Jesus Christ. He lives in Longido, but I have visited his boma. I have met and interviewed his mother and father. They are interesting, because they were small children when Italy built the road close to their boma.
They called him Joel. I call him Joel Lenorock. Joel is short. He pastors a church on the way to Longido. Preaching in his church during a storm, I could not hear or be heard for the rain. They sang and danced for an hour. I preached walking up and down the center aisle so I could be heard. Joel was in my Greek class. I am still amazed I had so many Greek students to serve in this country. I met Joel two weeks ago at Losimingori Church, where I will preach this coming Sunday. He was there leading a crusade for the Maasai people.
They called him Matthew. I call him Pastor Mathyo (Kiserian). My first memory of Mathyo was standing at the front of his little dirt/mud square church. It had one window and one door, and the little building was full. When fifty people begin to jump while singing, I could not see for the dust or breathe. It was also my first experience to see a medicine bottle in a Maasai ear. Outside there were no bomas, no houses, nowhere for the people to go. All I saw going to church were ostriches, zebras and giraffes.
They called him Mark. I call him Mark Shayo. Nyumba ya Mungu is a manmade lake for the power company. It is full of unseen hippos. They fish it nightly and small samaki are sent all over Tanzania from it. Mark owns a small grocery story. He is the father of three young sons. He feels God has called him into the ministry and is studying to be a better pastor. He has a church. Just last week I received a text from Mark and will see him and his family next month. He blesses me because he calls me his father.
They called him Luke. I call him Lukas Sabore. Lukas is the pastor of Engaranabor Baptist, married with a son and a daughter. I stayed with his mother in a boma at Olopuko when Lukas was a young man. Hail storms are rare in Africa. We were eating lunch in his mud home in Engaranabor, when marble-size hail came down. It sounded like the house would be destroyed with us in it. The most impressive thing in his house was the five-shelf book stand and the many volumes on the books of the Bible, a commentary and a Strong's concordance. Lukas loves to study.
They called him John. I call him Yohana Nnko. Yohana works for YWAM (Youth with a Mission). He is a father of six daughters. He graduates from Mount Meru University next May. He takes teams from all over the world to the remote parts of Tanzania for YWAM. I was his teacher and through Yohana I was introduced to Youth with a Mission and have taught twice there. Yohana was my teacher when he told me, "I never do anything until God tells me." A young Christian taught me, an old man, something to live by.
They called him Lazarus. I call him Lazaro (Nanja). At a Christian Growth Conference in Nanja, seven Maasai men, dressed in bright colors did not miss a session. At the close of the second session, Lazaro came to me with his pastor to interpret. He invited me to his boma. I was given lunch. I preached to all in his boma. I met his two wives. In Maasai he said, "I thank you for the teaching. We are now friends." Because of the drought Lazaro lost most of his cattle. It was an awful sight.
They called him Timothy. I call him Timotheo Lekoja. Timotheo is the pastor of a preaching point at Katumbeine. He is married and has two children, a boy and a girl. To get to the place is an obstacle course, full of deep ravines, volcanic rock and miles of bush. The Lekoja family walks miles to church every Sunday to take Christ to a people no one knows are there. Timotheo was met about ten years ago by me when he was a theological student at the Baptist Seminary in Arusha. His smile, his spirit, his faith, the isolation where he lives and serves blesses whoever meets him.
They called him James. I call him James Obando. James works at Olevolos, a school of about 30 kindergarten age children. He is a father of two biological sons, but it is exciting to watch him father all the students at the private school. He recently had a piki-piki (motorcycle) accident. He is now healed. His spirit is contagious.
They called him Michael. I call him Mikaeli Tatile. Mikaeli is the father of Paulina, Hannah, and Nengai and is married to Upendo. He is the pastor of Kimokouwa. I have been friends with Mikaeli since 1997 before he married. Mikaeli is tall and thin and dresses like a Maasai. Mikaeli has two burned circles on his face, put there by an aunt who wanted to protect his vision. New Year's Eve was celebrated with Mikaeli at Kimokouwa. On Mikaeli's suggestion and plans a Leadership Conference for the area village leaders was held. It will be done again. An adventure I will never forget was when I got stuck in mud and very little of me was not covered with mud. I finally made it to Kimokouwa and washed off the mud I could see, put on my necktie and had the best Easter I can remember.
They called him Immanuel. I call him Emanuel Laizer. Emanuel is Maasai. I met his fiancée, Ruhuma, last week. He want me to perform the two hour marriage ceremony (with an interpreter) at the end of this year. He is pastor of Family Church First Baptist. I stayed in his mother's nyuma in Daudi's (his father's) boma. A conference, a church service, two boma nightly services, and the 1st Lord's Supper were held at his church. One night, sitting with the village elders, they were laughing. I asked Emanuel why they were laughing. He had told them I had bought dog food for my dogs. They thought that was funny. I told them I took my dogs to a doctor and they really laughed to learn I had given each of my three dogs a name. It was all foreign and strange to them.These men are "completely sure," "please God," produce good works," and find "strength in His power."
God has blessed me to have them in my life. May they see Christ in me.
Thank you for giving.
Thank you for praying.
Called to Serve benefits, but so do so many of the wonderful people we work with.
You will never know the blessing you are to others.
"As you serve the Lord, work hard and don't be lazy.
Be excited about serving him!" Romans 12:11
All my life I have questioned what I do.
I was twelve. The other boys my age played war.
They skipped school. One day I went with them. All
day they shot each other from behind trees. There was
something wrong with me. I was not enjoying myself.
I missed school.
I was seventeen. The Potomac River in Virginia ran
beside where I grew up. I had a pack of cigarettes,
Salem Menthols in my shirt pocket. To keep the river
from washing the town away, large concrete embankments
had been built to stop water erosion. My hometown was
famous in that part of the world, because five large
casinos had been built on pilings over the river. The river
was Maryland. The land was Virginia. Gambling was legal
in Maryland, not in Virginia. I lay on a concrete embankment
and listened to raucous music and looked at jammed,
lighted gambling casinos over the river. I threw that pack
of cigarettes into the river. My heart hurt so bad because
the gambling piers weren't drawing me to a lifestyle all
my school mates were enjoying. Me. I felt very much alone.
I gave my life to Jesus Christ to go into full-time Christian
service and did not realize until years later, that that
decision put me into a world quite different from what I
expected. The Christian world was a world full of strange
beliefs. The Christian world also was not perfect. Once
again I was alone, not willing to accept a world that
preached one thing and lived another. The Christian
lifestyle was difficult. Anybody attempting to live it
found that out. Four years in a denominational school and
three years in seminary allowed me to meet people who
were worse off than me.
A wife, three daughters, ten grandchildren, and five
congregations (churches) were good to me as I
wrestled daily with being a good husband (What's that),
a good father (I wonder if I was), a good grandfather (The
jury is still out), and a good pastor (I tried).
Abner Hale, the preacher in Hawaii, made some terrible
decisions. It hurt to watch and to hear him doing them on
the theater screen. The film ended as a boy with a facial
birthmark approached the lonely old preacher's house. Early
in the film Abner Hale had saved an infant from being
drowned, because of that birthmark. Nothing was said. The
film viewers realized the grown man standing and offering
service to the preacher was the baby who had been saved.
The miseries of life's decisions all evaporated at that moment.
Basically the young man was saying, "You made life possible
for me. Thank you."
Last week a young waiter, Justin Gervas Soko, was waiting our
table. A Called to Serve pen was given to him the previous week.
On the pen was the website for Called to Serve. Today he
came to our table again and he have us a copy of the last update,
entitled "Genuine Guidance." A Called to Serve card had also been
given Justin last week. He has a young wife, Martha Hosea, and
a three-year-old daughter Martina Justin. He said, "I copied this
off the website. I read my Bible but I plan to make copies of
these articles every week. This article spoke to me. God spoke
to me." Barbara and I sat and we were amazed. The young man
was visibly touched. "It spoke to my heart." Then he asked the
strangest question, (We have known the young man for over a year.)
"Who is Elton Cooke?" I reintroduced myself to Justin. "This is my
wife, Barbara. I am Elton." He showed physical unbalance as it
registered. He then said, "I thought you were Barbara. It was on the
Called to Serve card. I thought Elton was somebody else who worked
with you. I want you to know I will be copying these articles every week
to help me live my life. It spoke to me."
I could have almost cried. I am an old mzee now and sometimes
I feel like I am still twelve. Justin coming to our table was like the
young man in Hawaii. "You are helping me live my life."
The Bible says, "Since through God's mercy, we have this ministry.
Do not lose heart." II Corinthians 4:1
Barnabas was the encourager. "He encouraged them all saying, 'Always
be faithful to the Lord. Serve him with all your heart.'" Acts 11:24
Called to Serve is serving here. But we can't serve him without you.
Your prayers and your gifts are touching people like Justin, Martha and
Martina and praise God many like them.
"I had always thought that growing absorption in God
would make me more dreamy, absent-minded and indifferent
to life's daily details. On the contrary, material details jumped
to life. Colors were more vivid. Music was more meaningful.
Food tasted better. People were more fascinating. I began
to love my daily life. God did it.
Victor Mremi called me yesterday. He was at the bus station
with his father, Pastor Robert Mremi. We visited at the Hotel
Aquiline across from the bus station. Victor wants to study to
be a Christian lawyer after he graduates from high school.
The only reason they called me was to pray with them.
Two weeks ago I received a call telling me about a funeral.
It was Robert's 42-year-old brother, Victor's uncle. The man
died and he had been sick for two weeks. His widow and their
two daughters, ages 16 and 12, had no place to go. They have
moved to Longido and now Robert, the older brother, has three
more in his family. He asked me to pray with him as he feeds
and educates his brother's daughters. Two additional school
fees impact his olders son's (Victor's) high school fees and Victor's
plans to go to a university and a law school. There are good minds
involved in this scenario. They know God will help. "Would I pray
with them?" they asked. In a hotel restaurant we prayed and held
hands as we did. There were four others, the waiting staff, who
were praying with us.
One day last January, I was measuring lumber in a wood-selling
establishment in Longido, Tanzania. The pastor of Kimokouvwa
was with me because it was in his church we were concreting the floor.
Another man rode up on a motorcycle. I met Rev. Robert Mremi
that day and I went to my car and put his church in my calendar.
I preached in his church last February. Victor, an excellent student
in English, translated for me. We have had dinner in their home twice.
We have become friends. His oldest son, Victor, calls me every other
day. He will interpret for us at the Ethics Conference next February.
He is the president of his class (Form 6) at his high school in Boma
N'gombe. There is a bond of friendship, me - old enough to be his
grandfather, and he - a 19 year-old- Form 6er. Fifty-one years are
between us. As I told Victor and Robert today, I now pray to live
long enough to see Victor graduate from Law School and to meet his
wife and see his children. I was told, "We'll make that one of our
prayers, too." Right now, it is my prayer, "Thank you God for the
enlarged Mremi family. Provide what You know they will need to
raise two families."
"Through Christ I learned to love the world more; appreciate wonders
more; they are all around me. God gives instant wisdom, immediate
strength, new hope, improved visions and His dynamic Presence.
They do not know I am writing and telling you any of this. If you
read this and want to help provide for seven children, five of Robert
Mremi and two of his brother's, all under 19, please contact us at
Called to Serve and we will connect you to the Mremi family. It
will be one of the best investments you will ever make. ($20.00 a month
would help feed them.)
Is the world and the life around us becoming more vague, unimportant,
and meaningless, or more sharply defined, more exciting, more significant?
Honest answers can provide clues about the genuineness of our claim that
Christ guides us.
Is it genuine? Only the living Christ knows. Behavior here shows lack of inhibition, comfort and reality. Persons may demonstrate in most disconcerting ways that life and faith are real.
Joseph - Not Hearers Only
They applaud. They are encouraged to do so. "Piga makofi." It was done
often in worship this past Sunday. They are instructed to clap. Jesus is
often given clap offerings. A point of salvation is made and the people
respond in voice and excited action. Tanzanian worshipers are physical
as they respond. If the Word is heard, a Tanzanian can not sit still.
Lupi - Responsible and Dependable
God knows when it is only lip-service. God sees the heart, so a person
is not just looking religious. There are no bulletins; so the believer
can be depended on. A testimony. A prayer. A confession. A song.
An offering. A need. It happens in every service. The spontanaity of
each person who is in church is respected and God is given the credit
for all that happens.
Living - I Will Do What I Promised
As a white man, I find every conversation I have in person or on the cell
phone is guarded and so specific because if a promise is made or even
implied, my hand is called, "Well you said it." The regular Tanzanian
church goer keeps his word. If he says he is going to do it, if he says
he's going to change, God has heard him and a pomise made to God and before believers is taken seriously. God alone is the witness to
what has been said and how a person lives. They live it, because they
promised to live it.
Salome - I Will Do What I'm Told to Do
"I said it, didn't I?" Never say, "I didn't think you meant it.' I was always
told never to tell a child anything you were not going to do. I love that
nature. You said it. Now do it. If I say anything, you know it is going to be done. On my phone at present is a text message, "You said this month." I texted back, "I know. This is what and when I am going to do it." Texted back, "I love you, rafiki yangu (my friend). Leaving a really rural, off-the-beaten-path church, driving home the pastor, riding with me, said, "You came. You said you would. That means more than
anything to my people. You did what you said you would do."
Lovegrace - I'll Show the World
No matter the denominaton and I have preached in them all, I sit on
the pulpit and emotionally enjoy the the honest inhibition of worship
from the oldest to the youngest. Their faces and behaviors show what
they believe. I have asked God, "How do they do it? Every Sunday?"
Johnson - What's Done in Secret, I Will Show in Public
Prayer time is worship time. Most of the time prayer is unplanned, not in a printed bulletin. There were three times the congregation went from
singing into prayer at worship this past Sunday. I finished preaching at
1:00. The spirit was great. There were about 200 in attendance. And all
pray. Not just who the preacher identifies or assigns. No one looked at
a watch.
Baraka - More Than Lip-Service
You don't read lips at church. You read the whole body. As one man called
it, "bootie shaking." He was not being complimentary. It just says where
his mind was. There is total involvement as worship happens. Baraka is only
four. The watoto (children's) choir sang and a nine-year-old played the keyboard for them. After they worshiped in song, the entire church applauded.
Yusufu - What Do I Reflect?
Reflection is more than an image in a mirror. The light of Jesus shines.
Every smile, handshake, hug, song, prayer, Scripture reading, thanksgiving
offering, regular offering, pastor's offering, and needs offering. Talk about
giving from one's poverty. Care for each other is genuine and the reflection
is vivid. Yusufu was my keyboard player at the crusade I led for the Barbarig
people in Mdori. His wife was the worship leader/singer most of the morning
where I preached this past Sunday.
Hezron - I Am Not Ashamed
Shame can be seen. No one is ashamed of Jesus. There is no shame when
people worship.
Evangeline - Am I Making a Fool Enough of Myself?
What may seem foolish to many is genuine to God. There is nothing fake
at church. Such joy cannot be pretended or acted. It is real. God is not
fooled. Sunday, sitting on the pulpit, meditating, I thought, "How do you
put into words Joy, and Worship?" I was experiencing it, but there was no
way to say it.
O Lord, let not flesh and blood conquer me. Let not the world deceive me.
Moses said to a large group of frightened people with the Red Sea before them and Pharoah' angry army behind them, "Don't be afraid! Don't run away! Stand where you are and watch the Lord save you today. You will not have to do anything but stay calm. The Lord will do the fighting for you." Exodus 14:13-14 (ERB)
Thank you for your faith.
Thank you for your gifts to Called to Serve.
Thank you for your prayers.
God sees and knows your faith. God prompts what you give. God hears your
prayers. Called to Serve benefits from all three.
"It's how you handle problems that makes the difference,
not whether you have problems."
(S. Truett Cathy, Chick-fil-A founder)
Third World
Poverty that hurts
Corruption Everywhere
"I can feel ribs!"
"I will do anything to eat."
"I can't afford to be ethical."
No matter the church or the place, Christ is real.
Galilee Temple has two services. One is at 7:00 A.M.
One is at 11:00 A.M. Each service was full. There was
genuine joy as they sang. The church became a moving
organism each time 200 people sang loudly.
Antioch had 27 people in one service. One lady led the
singing. Four were in their choir. It was raining so hard
there was a mist of water in the tin-covered room.
There were puddles in the dirt floor and leaks in the roof.
I have never seen or heard such joy.
Mabogini had 19. The mud was so thick and so slippery.
Mud covered miles getting there. There were l9 adults
inside and 12 children sitting on the muddy front steps.
Smiles. Warm greetings. Christ was in those hearts.
Family Church had 42. All of them were Maasai. Pictures
of people coming to church were taken out of openings
that were where doors and windows should have been.
Beautiful white collars were worn by the women and
girls and were deliberately bounced as they sang and
worshipped.
Shalom Christian Center had 77. All their chairs had
been stolen two weeks earlier. The keyboard, and two
loud-speakers proclaimed joy in Christ for the entire
community to hear.
The presence of the Living Christ was in each church.
There was power. There was grace. There was life.
There was hope. All of these things were felt.
Not just spiritually felt, but also physically felt.
That same presence was experienced throughout the
week.
In Joyce' living room there were 9. Samwell was about 6.
John was 9. Debora was 7. The baby was 1. Joyce sat
on the floor. Joseph sat on a sofa. David sat in a chair.
The other two people were white Amercans. Above each
of the windows and doors in the house was a Sunday
School picture of a Bible story. Soft drinks were served
because no one visits a Tanzanian home without being
served something to eat or to drink. Before it is served,
a blessing, usually by the woman of the house, is said.
The living Christ is acknowledged and worshipped. Jesus
lives in that home.
Before a car is started, a prayer is said. When a car
stops, before a door is opened, a prayer of thanksgiving
is said. If it is done to impress the white man, it does.
The white man is being convicted by what he sees and
hears as genuine expressions of faith.
It has been months. A visit was made to the home
of Frank and Edith. They move next week. Hot coffee
and hot tea was brought in. Prayer was said. Christ was
honored, because somewhere in the conversation Christ was
talked about.
A visit was made today to Bethel Christian Center. The
pastor was genuinely cordial, although his schedule was
extremely busy. Over 1000 people worship the Christ in
two services each Sunday. Two days ago a similar visit
was made to another facility. The most noticeable things
were six enormous pictures of the preacher hanging
all over the sanctuary. They were pictures of the preacher
wherever he had ministered in Tanzania. We left feeling
we had been to a white preacher's shrine. He will probably
give Jesus an autographed picture on Judgment Day. We
mentioned that visit and did not criticize the man or his
ministry. We were told that he is a very important man
and has done evangelistic work all over Tanzania since
l985.
What blesses my heart each day and each week are the
individuals who have problems, like all of us, but the way
they handle life's problems speak to me.
God bless you for your gifts and for your prayers.
One day in eternity, if not before then, God will do something
special for you, we pray, because in His name you have done
something special for others. We pray He is real to you.
n "The Shack"
by
God speaks every day. He spoke. I listened.
"Their lives are overflowing with action and responsibility.
But their action flows from a center of poise and authority
which they know very well is not their own creation. They
are very human. But they know they are not acting alone."
Twenty-one people from all over the United States have
said yes to participating in the Ethics Conference next
February, 2011. Information sheets have been returned.
Twenty-one people have responded with great joy and
expectation, enthusiastically responded.
Two conferences have been scheduled. Sites have been
secured. Eight interpreters have said yes. Caterers, tents,
and meals are in the planning. Six local choirs will
participate. Keynote speakers have said, "Yes." Devotions
and prayers have been assigned. Three sermons will be
preached in two churches. Six testimonies have been
assigned. Each day of the conference will begin with a
devotion, a prayer and a choir. What is all the more
exciting, all speaking and praying at the conferences and
the churches will be done, and not the same person will
be required to do more than one thing.
Christian Ethics will be taught. New friendships will be
made across the ocean and across the USA.
What is also amazing: God's hand can be seen in it all.
We ask you to continue to give, so that Called to Serve
will be financially stronger. Your prayers for Called to
Serve are being answered. God bless you for all you do
to make Called to Serve serve the living Christ. His
people in this part of his world are being blessed.
Our prayer: "Please help us keep our eyes on you, Jesus,
and our hands in your hands, so that we won't sink."
Turn your eyes upon Jesus.
Look full in his wonderful face.
And the things of this world
Will grow strangely dim
In the light of his glory and grace.
In "The Shack" by Wm. Paul Young there is a sentence that reads,
"To walk behind such a person was like tracking a sunbeam."
There is energy and light in a sunbeam. It warms. It exists to
brighten whatever it touches. It is real, but it cannot be touched.
It is difficult to understand but it generates a joy and an innocence that warms the heart.
In "The Shack" it describes Sarayu. In our lives it describes the Tanzanians who come into our lives.
They appear. They disappear.
They come. They go.
Here one minute. Gone the next.
Victor Mremi
Victor is a fine Christian young man in Form 6. That is equivalent to his last year in high school. He wants to become a criminal lawyer. He believes it is God's will for his life. He called and gave a tour of Insalu High School. Many of his school friends were met. One young man he introduced is the Prime Minister of the school. As we were about to leave, Victor said, "I am the President. He is my Prime Minister." Victor has interpreted for me and has invited me to preach at his church in Moshi in June. He will be my interpreter there.
John Megolicki
I met John when he was ten and had lost his right arm to a crocodile. He interpreted for me this past Sunday. He is a third year student at Moshi University College of Co-Operative and Business Studies. We took a team of youth there last June and John's college friends will be a part of the Christian Ethics Conference in Moshi next year. He wants to be a politician and serve in his country's government. He feels his government needs Christians in it. John lost his 14-year-old brother to Malaria last July. John's 9-year-old sister was just killed by a hit and run driver. Actually she died two days after the accident in Kilimanjaro Christian Medical Center in Moshi. John was a blood donor. We were emailed from Georgia that John was very ill. We were asked to check on him. The hospital had directly connected John to his sister to give blood and perhaps save her life. The hospital took too much of John's blood and almost lost John with his sister. I learned all of this this past Sunday as John rode with me.
Joshua and Jackie
Joshua is three. Jackie is one. They live in the boma where I stayed in Engirigiri. Maasai children are fascinated with muzungu, especially white fuzzy men. Everywhere I went at the boma, these two little dirty beautiful children were there. If I spoke to them or made any effort to go towards them, they would run. The mother spoke only Maasai, but when I asked the uncle, "Where did the name Jacqueline come from?" He answered, "My sister saw it somewhere, so she named her daughter Jacqueline and everyone calls her Jackie. Many miles from anything that could be defined as civilization are two of the most precious children named Joshua and Jackie. No one can touch them. They run and laugh.
Lenga-tenga
He was visited the first two times in a hospital in Arusha. He had had a minor stroke. I visited Lenga-tenga three times when a seminar was held for the Maasai in Engirigiri. Last Wednesday I drove again to
Engirigiri and walked almost three kilometers to his boma. On the walk the young pastor said that Lenga-tenga had given his heart to Jesus and promised to become active in the Maasai church once he felt like walking that far. God was healing him and he was so appreciative of the visits and prayers. That was easy for me. One day Lenga-tenga and I will be in heaven together.
Rehema and Julius
Where I grew up, going to church meant getting cleaned up and putting on your church clothes, getting in the car and going to a church building. Being on time was encouraged. Here going to church is an adventure of unexpected happenings. At 8:20 A.M. my interpreter, John, was picked up. At the bus station at 9:12 A.M., my friend Fanuel Kiroka from Nyumba ya Mungu, a preacher friend from years ago, was arriving from Samee, an hour's trip by bus to go to church. We started for the church when we were called that we had to get the musicians and instruments for the morning. They were a brother and sister of the pastor's wife. Rehema, a beautiful singer, and her brother, Julius, blind in one eye, but a guitarist who could hold his own next to any guitarist in the world. Both spoke excellent English. Then I had to get the keyboard and the guitar in the back of my car. The music instruments, the lead singer, dressed in a long green satin dress, a preacher or two and the interpreter. Driving through swamp conditions that would deter a lot of people from going to church, we arrived at 10:10 A.M. Rehema and Julius created an excited service of worship with their music. The church had put a loud-speaker on the outside of a window so the music and the sermon could be heard all over the community.
Lupi Mwaipalo
Lupi has been my interpreter all over Tanzania. He is now a second year student at Mount Meru University. He is the pastor of Border Baptist, on the border between Malawi and Tanzania. I have preached there. I had a child dedication there, when Lupi and Hope's daughter, Barbara, was dedicated. Lupi is a dynamic preacher and musician and speaks eight languages. I love the way he works with me. He not only translates my words, but he imitates my every movement. People who watch us are impressed because Lupi is an extension of me. He energizes me. I called, went to see him Thursday, and discussed three future dates when he will go with me. "Mwa" means "son of." Lupi's last name is Ipalo. But he is Lupi Mwaipalo. The daughter is Barbara Ipalo, named after Barbara. If Lupi and Hope have a son, he will bear the name Mwaipalo.
Henry from Cameroon
Sitting at lunch last Friday, a group was sitting at a table near ours. As they stood to leave, we noticed a young man dressed in an ornate gray caftan. He was handsome, but his dress made him noticebly striking. All at
his table were taking pictures. He sat down at our table and said to his wife, "Take my picture with these two people." He spoke good English. He said, "My name is Henry. I'm from Cameroon. Do you know where the Zion Church is?" We said, "Yes" and told him of a young man we knew at Mount Meru University. His name is Baracot. "They speak French in Cameroon," I said. He asked about what we did. We told him about Called to Serve. He said, "I am a Christian. " He invited us to come to hear him speak at Zion Church. After shaking his hand and meeting all in his luncheon group, we were invited to come to Cameroon, West Africa.
Experiences are like sunbeams, too. For forty-five minutes we drove to church. Dodging bumps, driving through holes of water that I named lakes after the four passengers in my car. Driving through a fast-flowing river with eight men sitting on rocks watching the muddy rushing water and seeing to our right ten boys swimming in that water, we continued to church. A little girl with one pink flip-flop and one blue one was walking down the middle of the road in a rainwater stream. Her flip-flops and feet looked cleaner and the walk was easier than slipping in the sticky black mud on either side Acres and acres of sugar cane grew along one side of the road that seemed to be going nowhere with an endless railroad track on the other side.
Arriving at Mabogini Church (Anybody reading this - do you want to bring a team to paint the inside of that church? If you do, let us know and we will plan it. I asked the pastor, Emmanuel Saitero. He said that it could be done in five days with six people). The building was empty except for six men (3 mzee and 3 young men). They began to sing. It was an abandoned building, and they had just started an evangelistic ministry about a month ago. Nineteen adults came. Ten children sat on the front step all dressed for church, but when two of the men in the church approached them, they ran. They acted like they were in trouble. When the men came back inside, the children returned to the front step. The first part of my sermon, I sat on the concrete floor and talked to those children.
God bless you as you continue to pray for Called to Serve. Continue to give to Called to Serve. We need your financial help to go to "sunbeams" like that. We are so grateful for all the ways you brighten up our lives and allow people in Tanzania to brighten up our lives. Jesus is working in you and allowing you to help us to bring Jesus Christ, the light of the world, to brighten things in this dark part of His world.
A man on safari in an African jungle followed
his guide who had a machete-like bush knife
whacking tall grass and underbrush. The man
asked, "Where are we? Where is the path?"
The guide stopped, turned and said "I am the
path."
We ask God often, "Where are we? Where is the
path?" Jesus gives the answer, "I am with you
always, even until the very end."
Jesus is the path. Walk safely in it.
Friday night I called home to . I was
leading a seminar for the Maasai. I had agreed
to spend the nights in a boma about five
kilometers from the church, which was a mud-
floored stick structure. I was asked, "Where
are you?" When I answered, "I don't know.
Even if something happens, I do not know how
to tell anyone where I am." Three Maasai men
were leading me on a rocky path through the
bush country. It was getting dark. We had one
flashlight because we would need it to get
back to the boma in the dark. I asked one of
the young Maasai where we were. He said,
"Engirigiri." I asked him to spell it for me.
He told me the Maasai would know where I was.
I was going to the home of Lengatenga. I had
visited him in the hospital a month ago. Now I
was walking (stumbling over rocks I could not see)
to pray with him. I had visited him twice in the
hospital. I visited him in his mud house three
times last week.
I have never been so aware of how feeble and
unprepared I felt. Those people believed my
touch and prayers had a way of convincing God to
heal. Each time I had prayed with Lengatenga, he
testified to a physical improvement.
I was certain we had gone six different ways to get
there, and to get back to the boma. I felt a safety
and lightness of spirit I have never felt in my life.
There were tree shadows that I do not remember
on either trek I made, in the wild, but I was told
they were there each time, "You just don't remember."
The moon was full. The sky, dark as it was, had
hundreds of stars. I captured the two nights' beauty
in my heart and mind. I did not have camera equipment
to save all I saw.
To get from the church to the boma by car each day,
there was no road. Julius (named for Tanzania's first
president, Julius Nyerere) would get out of the car
and walk in front of me. Immanuel, his mother Ndorpoto,
Rehema, Lalahe, and the grandmother and Amani and
Samwell stayed in the car with me.
At one time I had ten in my vehicle. I was told, "Most of these
people have never been inside a car. For you to drive
them home from church was the most exciting thing
they have ever done." I drove through rocks, past
gullies, between small trees of awful, dangerous-
looking thorns, down into ravines that rain water
had washed out. I was told that if it began to rain,
that I would have to stay in the boma until the land
dried. The Maasai told me I was welcome to stay, if
I had to. Julius walked in front of my car. Everywhere
he pointed I drove slowly. Julius was my path. Every
where Julius walked, I followed.
Sitting that night in the dark with six Maasai men, we
had one lantern on table in the middle of the room.
They were preparing to feed us goat and rice one night
and beans and rice the next night. They served us roasted
ears of maize as our appetizers. It was all good.
We were to have worship services each night. Friday night there were
about 60 who danced and sang until very late. We were given
hot boiling milk before we went to bed. On Saturday night,
there were so many people we had to sit outside under the
moon and stars. There were over 75 people. It was a happy
time.
As all the men, seven of us, waited to be served dinner,
they asked me questions. The week before Immanuel
was with me when I had to go to Shop Rite, a grocery store
chain from South Africa. Immanuel asked if he could go
into the store with me. I said, "Yes" and for the very
first time in that young man's 27 years he asked me if he
could push the grocery cart. For him to touch a grocery
cart, it was his first time. I was there for only one reason.
It was the only place in Arusha that sells dog food. We have
three dogs, Kelele, Amani, and Safi. The six men from the
boma, all Maasai, began to laugh. It was deep,
hard laughter. It was then that Immanuel asked the question,
and he had told all who were present what he was asking me,
and after I answered he would translate my answer to them.
I asked Immanuel what the men were laughing about, and he
could hardly answer because he was laughing so hard.
He asked, "You buy food for your dogs?" I said, "Yes," and
my answer caused all six men almost to double up with laughter.
I asked, "Don't you feed your dogs?" "Never. If they die, there are
always more dogs to take their place. They eat whatever they can
find. We don't buy food for any animal, except maybe the cow."
"Muzungu love their dogs." And the laughter was loud. I then
said, "That's what they said on the dala-dala when I took my
dog to the doctor. She was very sick." Immanuel could hardly
breathe, "You took your dog to a doctor?" When he told the other
men in the room that, they laughed in unbelief. There is no
describing their laughter. In the movie "Dances with Wolves"
I have always thought it was interesting how the native
Americans enjoyed laughing at the same story over and over
again. Now I was experiencing the laughter of a people whose
culture was different from mine. The Maasai were enjoying
my dog stories. Then I only made them laugh harder and louder,
when I told them that I named my dogs. They never named their
dogs and could not believe I actually gave a name to each of my
three dogs. They had never heard of anyone naming their dogs.
The laughter began to get quieter, when Immanuel told me that
they had laughed at my name. They had distributed a poster
with a picture of Barbara and me on it with our names under the
picture. It read Barbara and Elton Cooke. When Immanuel was
asked how Cooke was pronounced, everyone who heard it laughed.
I asked, "They did? Why is my name so funny?" "Well," Immanuel
paused, "if you want the donkeys to move, you say Cook, Cook.
When the pundas (donkeys) hear Cook, they move." He then
translated that to the men, and once again they all laughed and
were enjoying the remembering. They had all wondered what kind
of man had a name like Cook.
The absolute innocence of a people that are very different from
people in my world is like cutting a new path in uncharted land.
New paths are being shown every day.
At the church in the bush country of Engirigiri we had the Lord's
Supper for the first time. The pastor wanted me to tell them all
about it and then to guide them through the worship time. On Sunday
morning, I found myself showing people how to cut bread, and how
to put plastic cups on trays and put black currant juice in them. They
waited for my instructions, and in Maasai they sang a song of Thanksgiving
for what the Christ had done for them. It worked so well, it seemed
like it was planned. And it was. It was orchestrated by God.
The Maasai believers had communion for the first time in their lives, a new
path.
I close with a quote from Thomas a'Kempis, "Let Thy name be praised.
Not mine. Let Thy work be praised. Not mine. Let no human praise
be turned toward me." God bless you as you give. God bless you as
you pray. New paths are being opened for people to walk on that you
have helped clear. Remember Jesus is our path.
"No matter who or what we are, Christ can use us for the
suffering world if we only give ourselves to him." Flora Slosson Wuellner
What the hand is to the glove, the Spirit is to the Christian."
"God gets into us.
Your tongue. He claims it for his message.
Your feet. He requisitions them for his purpose.
Your mind. He made it and intends to use it for His glory.
Your eyes, face and hands. Through them He will weep, smile,
and touch. Max Lucado
At 8:30 Sunday morning, driving to pick up my interpreter to go
to Antioch, TAG to teach and to preach, my car stopped and would
not start in the center of a busy curve. No lights on my dashboard were
on to direct me or a mechanic fundi where the problem could be. Traffic was busy. A little white car passed me and a voice shouted,
"I will be right there." The man pulled off the road and came back to
help me. I met Simon Vomo. I told him that I knew the pastor of All
Nations Christian Center. I had preached there several times. He said,
"That's my brother." He gave me his business card. It read, "Service
to Servants." Under those words are "Rescue and Restore." Simon
and Naomi Vomo, Ministry Consultants. A security guard across
the street was guarding First Steps Nursery School. He crossed the
road. He is Simon John. First Steps is next door to the Pepsi Company.
Working for Pepsi were Omar and Dennis. They came to help me.
Simon Vomo said, "I will call my mechanic." I met Ezra. Adegratia
and Samwell stopped to help me, also. My car was pushed off the
road where I was not in traffic any longer and was safe. I called the church and my interpreter, because the morning at Antioch had to be canceled. I called my mechanic, Makovia, and he was on his way. Simon Vomo and I talked. I will help him with his service ministry to ministers. Two trips on dala-dalas were made downtown Arusha. Four men worked all day on my car. I gave Simon John a Bible. He and I and Dennis sat on the side of the road, finding, underlining and talking about what certain verses meant. That went on most of the day.
Two automobile electricians came on the scene and they put a
piece into to my carburetor that would solve my problem. It took them
hours to disassemble and to reassemble it. I was handed the piece they
had removed. I was to pay them $80.00 for the piece they had replaced.
"What am I going to do with that?" They said I could have it just in case
in the future I might need it. "Does it work?" I asked. To the answer
of yes, I said, "They want me to pay for a piece they have put in my
car and now they are giving me the piece they took out as an extra
to have on hand just in case? I didn't need it. My car is still not
running, and I am not going to pay for what I don't need." It was
obvious that they were upset. Again they took the carburetor apart.
I know absolutely nothing about an automobile engine, but I was
watching, and I told them how to put it back together. I can see
shapes and screw holes. I told them where to put the pieces they
had scattered on the ground.
A Pepsi Cola truck towed me home, because after seven hours on the side of the road, they discovered a timing belt had broken. (It's being fixed by my mechanic right this minute as I write, and it
is a very good chance a screw they put in wrong cut that belt. It was
just fixed two weeks ago. My mechanic is going off to get the parts
I need. He is a good man.)
They were pulling my car with a rope that broke eight times before
they got my car to my house. They finally used a piece of metal wire
to strengthen the rope. I should count my blessings. Only two screws, one bolt, a Phillip's screw driver and a flathead screw driver are missing. Hopefully when the belt is replaced, the car will run. We have a seminar to teach at the
end of this week. (I have just finished booking May. We are at
Ngaramtoni and the Galilee TAG on May 16 and at Antioch where I
missed yesterday on May 23. I begin to teach New Testament Survey
at Jerry and Tammie Brachus' church on May 2). I told Omar who was apologizing that I had lost the whole day and could not preach, that if I had not had car trouble, I would not have met himor Ezra. Or anybody I met yesterday. Now I have spent an entire day with them. I also told that to Simon John and Dennis. I gave Simon a marked Bible. We marked it together. I promised I would bring Dennis one this week. I surprised Naomi and Simon Vomo when they gave me a ride towards my house when I told them what I had done. God has blessed today.
Because I had just read quotes and wrote them down to use
at a later day from Flora Wuellner and Max Lucado,
they are at the beginning of this article. Just one half hour before
my car stopped on Njiro Road, I had read Katherine Marshall and
in her devotional, she instructed us to praise God for all that goes wrong.
Your gifts to Called to Serve and your prayers for Called to Serve
serve as evidence that God is in you, working. Thank you.
I continue. At 4:00 P.M. I was towed home. At 4:30 P.M. we were walking
to the road to go to Njiro Complex for something to eat. We thought
we would have to ride on a dala-dala. I had $1.50 in my shirt pocket
for the dala-dala. Barbara had put the food money in her sock. A taxi stopped. I told him what I had. He said, "I will take you for $1.50.
We knew (and we weren't going to tell him) we had enough in the sock
to get us back home. We introduce ourselves and tell about Called to
Serve to anyone we meet, and we meet new people every day. His
name is Hallelujah. He has bought a piece of land and a house in USA,
seventeen miles east of Arusha. Because his taxi business is in Arusha,
he is starting a church in the house in USA. "I am a born-again Christian,
and I wanted to use that house for the Lord." "Are you a preacher?"
"No. I am just a person who loves Jesus." I put his name and phone
number in my phone. He picked us up after we ate and brought us home.
We will use him often in our future ministries.
"No matter who or what we are, Christ can use us." F.S.Wuellnertoo
I took a book "Prayer and the Living Christ" off our book shelf. It was part of Dr. Paul Crandall's library that he gave to me in1980. It was written by Flora Slosson Wuellner and was publishedin 1969. Flora Wuellner does not have a name like Emil Brunner, Dietrich Bonhoffer, Richard Niebuhr, Carlyle Marney or some other renown scholar, but she was a wise articulate Christian thinker. Personally, I will put her words far above the words of others. Flora may never have been a match for Emil, Dietrich, Richard or Carlyle (I have read all of them, too) but she truly has been used by God to change my life. I will read and reread her God-inspired words, but I springboard this week's article with a quote from Flora, "If we make the mistake of trying to depend on our own
willpower, we will usually fail."
The Living Christ is working.
Nothing is too small. No one is too insignificant.
One little girl, Linda, is a waitress. She cannot sing. We
asked her. She cannot teach. She is too bashful, but she can
smile and wear t-shirts that say she belongs to Jesus.
A waiter named Sammy sent us a text, "In the name of Allah,
Happy Easter." When he was asked about the text, he told us of
his Muslim background, but that he went with friends to Christian
churches. We are trying to get information for him to go to Liberty
College in Lynchburg, Virgina because he sings beautifully.
A young preacher, Pastor Emmanuel, has left the Maasai
church, Ebenezer, where I have preached, and he has gone to
Moshi to build a church, Mabogina Baptist. He was my interpreter/
translator for a Mind of Christ Seminar. He came to Arusha to see
me and I have agreed to preach at his church May 2. He was
apologetic. I thought I was being nice when I said, "Even if you
only have 15, I will be there." Black people do not turn red when they
are embarrassed. He just dropped his head, did not look at me and
said, "We have four in our choir, me and my wife and two others. There
may be ten in worship, all together." Enthusiastically I rallied, "That
is all right! We are planning an Ethics Conference in Moshi next
February. (We will be telling you, our readers, all about that conference.
God is amazing us with who is coming to teach.) So I told Emmanuel
we were looking for choirs and preachers to help us with that conference. He said, "Ask me in a few months. Our choir will grow and
I have met many of the pastors in Moshi. I will help you. I will let you
meet all I have met."
One of the most excited groups of Christians goes to Antioch
TAG. Rev. Joseph Moto called. It is a church in one of the poorest
areas of Arusha. I preached there last month. I will preach again Sunday.
It is in one of the most underprivileged areas of this country.
The young pastor of Family Church First Baptist in Nanja has
invited Barbara and me to teach a seminar on Prayer, Faith and
Salvation, April 22, 23, and 24. I will lead the first Lord's Supper for
that church on April 25. We are planning for 50 to be there. He has
had a poster made with our pictures. He is 23, and he is burdened for
the Maasai in that area.
On May 9, we will be at Shalom Christian Center to teach and to
preach. Shalom Christian Center has a dirt floor and is in a slab-sided
building. Last month somebody stole all of their chairs from the church. About100 white plastic chairs were taken. It did not stop them from
worshiping.
Passing the vegetable/fruit stands daily, Adijah yells and waves.
"Rafiki yangu (my friend)!" Our gardener/guard was with me the
other day as we passed and he heard her yell at me as I drove by.
He said to me, "You know her? She is telling everyone that you are
her friend." "I buy my bananas from her." "Adijah is a Moslem name,"
he said. "That makes no difference. Jesus loves her, too. Maybe Jesus
will be her Savior one day. She will be given a Bible, and she will read it."
No one and no place is too small for God to care for.
I close with quotes from Flora.
"Jesus Christ is with us now as much and even more as when he was among
us in the flesh." "This life of surrender to the living Christ is possible for all."
"All we have to do is know he is with us, then turn ourselves over to him,
asking him to take us as we are and change us as he wishes."
"All I have to do is let go, relax, stop pushing myself into feelings I don't have
and ask him to take over. What I feel need not matter. What matters is his
power that can work through me if I let it."
God bless you for your gifts, They help Called to Serve reach people for Christ.
God bless you for your prayers. We cannot live without them.
Unique can mean different.
Unique can mean one-of-a-kind.
Unique can mean without a like.
Easter Sunday at Kilimamoto Church (Fire Mountain Church)
at the base of Kilimamoto, a dormant volcano, was unique.
We have been told April is the month of the heavy rainy season.
It began raining on April 1 and we have had heavy rain every
day since it began. (It is raining as I write.) Sunday morning,
Easter Sunday, we had discussed having an Easter Sunrise
Service on the top of Mount Kilimamoto. I have worshiped
as the sun rose on Easter, for as long as I can remember.
As a boy until I left home, we had Easter Sunrise services
on the Potomac River. In Richmond, we went to Bryan Park.
In Norlina, North Carolina, it was at the town cemetery. At
Lyndale it was on the front lawn of the church. At Fellowship
the church front step faced the east. The piano was rolled to the
front door. At Falling Creek, again we worshiped at daybreak
on Easter on the front lawn with the sun rising over the church
behind us.
What made Easter Sunday at Kilimamoto unique? Heavy Rains.
Heavy rains did not keep over 200 people from coming to church.
Only three cars were in the parking lot in front of the church, so over
190 walked to church between the downpours.
What made Easter Sunday at Kilimamoto unique? Baby Dedication.
When I finished preaching all the young mothers brought their babies
to the front. The pastor took my hand and asked me to help. Each
mother handed her baby to the pastor and gave him the name of the
child. The pastor took the baby and prayed for the child in his arms. He then gave me the baby. It was so special for me to hold ten
babies and to put my hands on the head of one toddler and pray for
them. I felt God was really in our midst. That was unique.
What made Easter Sunday at Kilimamoto unique? The Lord's Supper.
From an education building on the side of Mount Kilimamoto, two
ladies and one young man ran through heavy rain with the communion
elements, covered, while two other men ran with the communion table.
It was set up and I was asked to bless the cup. It was unique.
What made Easter Sunday at Kilimamoto unique? Four Wheel Drive.
It was used to get to church and to get home from church through mud
that can not be described.
What made Easter Sunday at Kilimamoto unique? Its people. Its pastor.
Its joyful singing. Its spirit. They may have me fooled, but when 200
people come through the front door and before they do anything else,
each of them from 5 to 85 bows his/her head and prays. They are
preparing to worship. That is unique.
What makes Easter in Tanzania unique? Holidays.
Everything closes for Good Friday and Easter Monday.
Nothing is open. Today as I write this article, it is Wednesday.
April 7. At 10:30 A.M. our gardener came to us. He said, "Today
is a holiday. It is on the radio. It is the birthday of the first president
of Zanzibar. His name was Karume." We checked the calendar
and gave him the rest of the day off. He has off a half-day every
Thursday, so we will see him again Thursday afternoon. Our
gardener/guard is unique. The many holidays are unique.
We ate at the Blue Heron and were greeted by five of the waiting
staff, with the expressed hope that we had a great Easter. We were
invited to come to one of the waitress' church (Lutheran) to preach.
We had asked her about her church home. That was unique.
We met a white couple from the mid-west who has left all and come
to Tanzania. They are Jerry and Tammy Bachus (Jim Backus -
Gilligan's Island - First Cousin). They have been here seven
months and are adopting two precious girls, one 6 and one 7 months,
both abandoned. They have a twenty year old son in the USA
and cannot wait for him to meet his two new sisters.
Jerry invited me to teach New Testament Survey at his church,
beginning May 3. That meeting was unique.
Then I came home and read from Max Lucado's "Grace for
the Moment." It said, "You are you-nique. God made you
unique."
Please pray for us. Please give so we can have more unique things happen.
Serving others requires no unique skills, no degree from a
college or seminary. When you talk to a lonely person, befriend
a weary man or woman, hug an abandoned child, pray with a
person the world seems to have forgotten, you are serving like
Jesus wants you to serve. You are loving like Jesus. Jesus
dresses in the garb of the overlooked and the ignored. "Whenever
you did one of these things to someone overlooked and ignored,
that was me - you did it to me." (Matthew 25:40 MSG)
Two Maasai men sat out front of a local hospital. Names
were told me and spelled for me. My pronouncing them made
the two men laugh. Inside the hospital their neighbor was very
ill Walking into a ward with six beds four were occupied. The
men were fully dressed. One young man was alone. All the
other bedridden men had visitors. However, it was no longer
visiting time. Lying in the bed where I went was a Maasai man.
He had been brought there because his blood pressure was so
high, he had lost use of the right side of his body. He may have
been in his late forties. My interpreter talked with him. The
man opened his eyes but his vision was not clear and the eyes
were uncontrollably active. My interpreter whispered, "He is
not making sense. He is not saying anything that I can understand."
Seated beside the bed was his brother. Both men were dressed
in red draped material. The brother was also wearing the
traditional piki-piki (motorcycle) tire sandals that many Maasai wear.
The other patients were dressed in trousers, shirts and socks. The
patient I was visiting was rural Maasai. He lay with his eyes shut.
My interpreter struck him on the left arm to get him to open his eyes.
As he did, the interpreter said, "This man is my father's brother." I
said, "That means he is your uncle?" Standing now, on the other side
of the bed was another uncle. "And he is your father's brother, too" I
asked. His answer was "Yes." :"What is his name?" I was pointing to
the patient. "Lengeteng." Hearing his name, he opened his eyes and spoke.
My interpreter said, "He says he know you. He remembers you when
you visited the church last year." Because he recognized me, everyone
felt that was a good sign. I prayed and said I would visit him the next day
(Thursday).. Even though I speak no Maasai and they speak no English,
I would be there and I would pray over the sick man. I left, but I sensed
we were leaving two overlooked men. I came home, picked up Max
Lucado's book, "Grace for the Moment" and I read the devotional
"Love the Overlooked." It hit my target.
His name is John Megolicki. He goes to college in Moshi, Tanzania.
He emailed Jack Brymer in Birmingham, Alabama. Jack emailed us.
Yesterday John called me because of all these emails. I have known
John since a crocodile took his right arm when he was ten. He is now
twenty-three. His nine-year-old brother died of malaria last July. John's
mother died four years ago. John was the oldest of eight. His mother's
sister raised the eight siblings. Six months ago her baby son died. Friday
John's eighteen-year-old sister was killed in an automobile accident. John
was in the hospital in Moshi with some blood pressure problems. He was
released to go to his sister's funeral. John is also one of our sons in our
extended family. Be in prayer for the boy. Such a year as John has
experienced would have emotionally crippled most people I know, yet
John's family and the faith of his family and friends bless me. In the
armless body of a young African student lives The Christ.
A twenty-seven-year-old preacher boy said to me yesterday (Tuesday),
"Father. I do not want you to worry about any thing. You read God's Word. You do what God wants you to do." As I left him today, he said, "Father.
Can you help me find a quiet place to come? I want to read the Bible, and to
study what it says, and I want to have some time to pray. I want to be alone
with God. Do you understand what I want? I can't bow my head or close
my eyes or show my faith in Tanga, where I go to Bible School You
know there are many Muslim there. They will put something in my drink or
food. They will hurt me, even beat me, if I do anything that is Christian and
they see it. So I have learned to worship and to pray so they will not hurt me." He has a month before he goes back to that Bible College, right in the middle
of a Muslim community. "They like to fight," he said. "That is why I want a
place to worship quietly while I am not there." I will contact Christian friends
and check out places I know for spiritual renewal for a young man. God will bless
such devotion.
At 9:15 A.M., Wednesday, March 31, 2010, a new work/residence permit
was granted to us. It is good until 2012. It was stamped in our passports and handed to us. Praise God. Sitting on the second floor looking through a glass door, waiting for the work permit to be granted, dozens of people appeared to be going somewhere, but the crowd was just moving. Five people were sitting behind peddle sewing machines.across the street. A young woman stood at her store's front door, looking bored. She sold fans and light bulbs. Next to her were ten bicycles, allneatly in a straight line. The owner of that store was dusting the bikes. In front of that store two young men had a bicycle upside down. The front tire was off. One young man was scraping the tire tube, repairing it. The second young man was standing and watching. Leaning against the building behind them was a skinny young woman in a long flowing black skirt and an orange blouse. She had wrapped her hair in a black and orange piece of material. She had slipped into a yellow vest. She was to collect twenty cents from everyone who parked in that area. Often she had to run to catch the person who did not want to pay. On the
corner stood five Maasai men. Two men dressed in red. Three dressed in purple.
They were just standing and talking I wondered as I watched, "Does anybody care about these people?" All the people in this article are breathing and taking up space. But most of them appear to live lives that are overlooked or ignored.
I expect no eternal commendation or any divine acknowledgment, but a prayer for each person I saw or have learned about was whispered. "God, don't ignore anybody. God, please do not overlook any of your creatures. They are all made in your image and each of them is precious in your sight."
Thank you for your continued praying and giving so that overlooked people can be seen.and helped.ord
"Words
cannot fully explain things but people continue speaking. Words come again and again to our ears, but our ears don't become full. And our eyes don't become full of what we see."
Sitting in a white plastic chair waiting for the Mtei bus to travel to
a seminar I led at Wasso, Loliondo. and Soit Sambu, I was reading
my Bible. I always read something in it I will use that week. A young
man, Robert Moto, sat beside me. "You are a Christian?" I believe
that sentence and ten more English words are all Robert knows. My
Swahili is worse, but we talked. He is pastor of Antioch Sembotini
TAG church. Sunday, March 21 I preached to 40 of some of the
most lively people I have met. It was in a poor area of Arusha, but
they rejoiced in their worship. There were four in their choir, three
ladies and one man. Financially, I could not help, but the richness of
God's word, I was privileged to share. I gave Pastor Robert a ride
to downtown Arusha. Putting him out, he gave me an envelope to
pay for my coming and preaching. Giving it back without opening
it was a blessing for me. Truly they were giving out of their poverty.
Friends of mine in the USA who have traveled on mission trips
with me tell me that I preach differently on the foreign field. I know
I become excited and my listeners respond if I put action into my
stories, so I walk all over the church to show what I am saying. In
one of my illustrations Sunday, I walked down the middle aisle to
show anger in the walk.. Samuel, about five, was seated on a bench
at the back wall. He panicked. He thought I was coming after him.
He ran out of the church and with wide eyes he came back to the
doorway to see if the bearded white man had gone back to the
front of the church. He was checking to see if it were safe to come
back into the church. The church loved it. "Eyes don't become
full of what you see."
At 2:00 P.M. English time (which is 8:00 P.M. Swahili time) I
left the church to go home. (It is a real exercise for me to be
sure I am telling people the right time we are to meet. Once I thought I had made myself clear that I was to meet three men at
3:00 P.M. They were waiting for me at 9:00 A.M. and they called
me. "We're here. Where are you?" 3:00 is 9:00, Swahili time. A.M.and P.M.mean nothing to the Tanzanian. As I was saying,
at 2:00 P.M. I was going home. Three little boys (about 3, 4, and 5)
were waiting for me at my car. They began to talk to me. My
interpreter, David Gachebe, said that they wanted to go home with
me. The children touch your heart with their eyes and smiles.
Barbara just came to me. She is working at the computer inside
and I am writing as I sit on the porch. For nearly an hour, a baby
has been crying. The baby is back of our house, behind the wall.
She asked me to go and to check on the child. Francis, our
guard, and I went to the roofless house where we heard the crying. There were three men and a little boy. He was about two and
was crying - loudly. His heart was breaking. His father said through
Francis to me, that the boy was all right. As we walked through black
glue-type mud, we talked about the frightened little boy, who bashfully
clung to his father's trousers. He was afraid of me. Francis said the
child was probably hungry. We plan to take the child food. If we
give money, the father will buy piwa, a local homemade alcoholic brew.
He will get so drunk and will fall asleep and not hear his hungry little boy
crying. "Eyes don't become full of what you see."
Yesterday morning our night guard came to me because all night
our dogs had barked. He had discovered the reason. At the right,
behind the wall to our compound was another unfinished house.
Before any house is built, a concrete cistern is constructed to store water
to build the house. A dog had gotten into that cistern and could not get
out. If he died in there, we would have other problems. There were four
men (me, the old white mzee, and three black men who were afraid of the
trapped dog). It was obvious the dog would not be helped by either of them.
While they were discussing the dilemma in Swahili, I climbed into the cistern. I began to talk to the frightened animal. I let him smell my hands. He allowed me to stroke his head. I took a rope off his neck which was placed there to drag him up a board and out of the cistern. He was very scared, but I picked him up in my arms and put him outside the cistern. He was so glad to be free, he ran. As I climbed out of the cistern, the joy could be seen on those men's faces. We walked back toward our house, and my guard translated what the neighbors were saying. At least six of them thought the old white man had done something great. I just helped a stranded dog. "Eyes don't become full of what you see."
Two more abandoned babies have a new home at Samaritan Village.
They are Nehemiah (4 weeks) and Baraka (6 weeks) Precious baby boys,
left to die. They now will have the opportunity to grow up. To eat and
to go to school. "Eyes don't become full of what you see."
Peter Muchemi, I met in Nyeri, Kenya, in 1996. He visited with me last
week. Barbara and I are renewing our work/residence permit. It requires
us to get signatures where Called to Serve has done volunteer work. Peter,
a father, now, of Samuel (12) and Eunice (3) went with me, everywhere I
went for two days. He saw things he had never seen and he was born
in Africa. One of our stops was the Augustine Perfect Secondary School..
A boy we have helped in the past, we were told, needed hospitalization.
We took Mathias Joseph to the hospital. They did blood work and
discovered he had walking pneumonia. We took him home. Mathias is
20. He has a brother, Thomas, l9 and a brother, Boniface, 18, who
lives in Moshi. The sons have a mother, Rhoda, and her sister,
and Bryson (2), the sister's baby son, live with them. Five people live in
one room. The women and the baby sleep in the bed, while Mathias
and Thomas sleep on the floor. There was no food. The antibiotic he was
taking was making Mathias more ill because it was being taken on an
empty stomach. Peter, Rhoda and I went to the local market to buy some
green bananas, tomatoes, and potatoes. We bought cow meat, hanging in
a local butchery, which was sliced with a sharp panga. Those people will
eat well for about two days, but hopefully Mathias will get well. Peter had never seen such poverty. But. "Eyes don't become full
of what they see."
We could do so much more. God will provide. We focus on what
our lives see. All of us. We try to see what you are seeing where you
live, and we know life for you is difficult. We have not forgotten one
moment what you must be seeing. All we can do for you is pray.
We are doing that, and we thank you as you pray for us and the things
we see. As you give, you are helping in ways you do not know.
Leviticus 1:9 reads "Then the priest will bring all of the animal parts to the altar to be offered as a burnt offering, a sweet smelling gift to the Lord." I never did think burning flesh was a good smell. Often in the Old Testament it speaks of the "sweet smelling offering" as God accepts it. We have personally encountered things that were unattractive to us, but to God they were seen and experienced differently.
I drove miles through unattractive mud and grass to Free Pentecostal Church of Tanzania yesterday. It had just rained. I turned off the main highway into a field and literally I made my own road. The only Swahili word I knew was "kanisa." I stopped randomly and the Maasai I spoke to understood the word and pointed me in a direction. I have never seen such open space, but I made it. I saw four ostriches, a wild big bird, and miles and miles of open country. It was cloudy, and the muddy road directed me as I drove through fields, up hills, down into awful looking ravines. But I made it to a Lutheran church and the pastor got in my car and took me to the Pentecostal church. They were singing and jumping and waiting.
African mud is indescribable. But it is slippery and black and like glue.
There were 75 in attendance, and I arrived at 10:30 A.M. The service was over at 2:00 P.M. Two made professions of faith. A Maasai couple. It was
exciting. I had begun this article last week, but yesterday. The mud. The church far from civilization. I met people full of joy. It was home for them. It was their church family. They gave testimonies that my interpreter translated for me. A nine-year-old girl told of her encounter with a snake and God protected, and all present rejoiced. A tall Maasai man exuberantly told of a miraculous healing that he had experienced himself. A mother told of daughters who changed their behaviors because God had become important to them. Those two daughters stood and were introduced. I tried to record it all with pictures.
It was probably one of the most unattractive places in God's created world, but I know He saw it differently. And He let me see it. It was a "sweet smelling gift."
I have always believed when a person is doing God's will, God's adversary cannot stand it. To use the things that happen to you to glorify God, to honor the presence of the Christ and His grace in your life when to the human eye, it may hurt, can be used by the adversary to defeat. To God, it is a "sweet smelling gift."
God convinces us that his adversary is a powerless creature, who naively
thinks he can defeat God and His power. He really thinks he is doing something.
My mother's homecoming this past week, for her death after many years of mindless suffering and my being faraway, we, her children and grandchildren, celebrate and testify positively to the presence of God and His grace.
A couple from the USA coming to serve with Called to Serve was stranded in London, England all day Saturday before last. They arrived at 8:30 A.M. on the previous Sunday morning. We went directly from the airport to Sambasha, the church where we worshiped. It was a delightful experience. We worshiped with new friends.
That couple's luggage was lost and two days later, after tracking it all over the world, we were told those two bags could be anywhere in this world. We had dressed them from our closets and they spent a day and night in the Samaritan Village orphanage, a home for abandoned children. Finally the luggage arrived. After being given only $50.00 because they had filled out one form (as they were told to do) for any inconvenience to purchase anything to wear or anything they needed (like contact solution for contact lenses). God blessed that couple. And Called to Serve. And the Tanzanians we met.
We traveled that Sunday to Longido and spent the next day, Monday, in very wet muddy bush country with a car causing us to think we had been sold bad fuel, we visited three homes and a church for away, meeting new friends.
Last night at the direction of Colossians 3:12-17, we were told, "Everything you say and everything you do should be done for Jesus our Lord." We experienced a divine strength and presence when nothing was going right.
Ten minutes ago, I received a text from Mdori. The young woman, who had been brought and laid at my feet as I taught and I was told "the church is doing exactly what you are teaching," died. Starvation was told to me to be the cause of her death. It had its negative affect on me. We toured Kilimanjaro Christian Medical Center in Moshi. The young man in the
couple visiting us was a physical therapist from Lynchburg, Virginia, and people have been blessed by what he personally, hands on, did. Praise God for Mark and Maria Phillips. Yes. A lot that happened in the last nine days have not been the prettiest, sweetest, or greatest things in the world, but in God's eyes they were all "sweet smelling gifts."
Thank you for your prayers. Thank you for your financial gifts. Please see all of this as God sees it and smells it.
Psalm 15:4
I learn something new every day, and
the people who are teaching me do not know
they are teaching me anything.
My head is scarred because I am one
of the tallest people over here. They
have security gates on practically
everything. I leave a little bit of
flesh at all the gates, because I am
slow to learn that I must duck before I enter any place with a security
gate. My latest mishap was going to a
choo at a church where I preached. I had
to be anointed with salve and two band-aids.
I almost always have to kiss my knees to enter a boma. I usually try to raise the thatched
roof. In this area, I am a slow
learner.
I am seated at a patrol station
station. I am having my car washed. Tonight we will pick up Mark and Maria Phillips (we have just
learned they are stranded in
Literally from nowhere an angry crowd
gathers. I watch them as over 100 men
run off. The garage manager comes to me. "A man has just killed a child (I
learned it was another man - his brother).
Those men will catch him and take him to the police." She stands by
me speculating about what has just happened.
We both look up to see the crowd returning with the man in tow. I ask, "Where are they going? I learn later he hid the body after killing
the man. "He will have to tell why
he killed the person." I say, "They may kill him." "If God wants it done, it will be
done." She leaves to go home, because she is tired.
My car is being dried. Another car is having a dollar's worth of
petrol put in it. He drives off. Another car just drives to the petrol
pump. A tire is being fixed. Life is going on. Somewhere down the road a crowd is
questioning a murderer. From where I am
sitting nothing unusual has happened. A
mother drives into the garage. She is
driving a
As most know, my mother (90) died
last night. A young pastor I met on a Crusade I preached in Mdori texted me two
nights ago. "Today the Lord
revealed to me an aged lady close to you is in severe pain. His hands reach you best. Let's pray hard." When he called me later, he was surprised to
hear about my mother and her falls.
Yesterday, he told me to read Psalm 103.
This morning he texted me, "Don't tremble with fear nor be afraid;
only believe. Nothing is impossible with
our lovely Lord Jesus. Meditate on
Isaiah 41;9-10,13.
A young waiter came to our
table where he was waiting on us.
"You are Christians?" Where do you go to church?" We told him that we were in a different
church every Sunday. Barbara said,
"He preaches every week in a different church." "I want to go with you." His name is Severine and he will go to Nanja
and a Maasai church next Sunday. We met
the young man last week. When the bill was being paid, arrangements for pick-up
and all the details were made. That
young man is also my teacher.
Whenever I go downtown, I have to pay to
park. I met a young woman who
collects and lets me park in front of our bank. She was new there two weeks
ago.
Her name is Christina. As I spoke
to her and called her by name
yesterday, she told everyone
on the street that I had remembered her
name. I didn't have the right change. I
told her that I would go back into the bank
and get the large bill
changed. When I returned, she smiled and
said, "We
are friends. If you had forgotten, it is okay."
I take our taka-taka (trash)
weekly to a dumpster. It is paid for
each month.Saitoti works there. He is
not an educated man. I asked Saitoti
about his
for giving his boys a
football our team in January had left.
Yesterday, he
asked for a Swahili
Bible. It amazes me where my teachers
are.
Thank you for your prayers.
Thank you for your gifts.
Thank you. You are also my teachers. And you didn't even know it.
"I
thank Christ Jesus because He gave me this work of serving Him. ( I
Timothy 1:12 )
Why does God want me to see what I see?
I was asked to pray.
I prayed.
I folded back a blanket and saw a deformed baby.
I touched about 20 babies.
I held sick babies.
I hugged mothers.
I let little fingers grip my fingers.
I wasn't
alone. Others did the same things.
I let a one-year-old boy touch the top
of my head and I watched him as his mother carried him to each adult in that
hospital room and that baby boy greeted every adult with a blessing touch.
I saw a large growth, as big as the
infant it was on.
I saw small children gasping for air.
I said "No, I am sorry"
(Hapana, poli sana.) to a mother who was asking for 5,000 shillings (about $5.00) because I cannot give $5.00 to the other twenty parents
in that hospital, because I believe what I have been told, "Give one needy
person $1.00 today, and there will be seven needy people in line tomorrow."
I only confess how I felt when I left the six wards (about 21 children) and I
saw deformed babies, and bodies with cancers and growths, and children with breathing
difficulties, and large stomachs, and children with blood disorders. The words of
James came to the front of my mind. "Suppose a brother or
sister in Christ comes to you in need of clothes or some- thing to eat.
And you say to them, 'God be with you! I hope you stay warm and get
plenty to eat.' But you don't help them, your words are worthless."
Each person was comforted. Each child was blessed. Each prayer was
sincere. The love in our hearts for those suffering in the hospital was
genuine. But we did not alleviate the first pain or put to rest the fear in
those eyes.
If you are reading this, pray for those children, but also for the children in
hospitals in your town in your country. You can match what we saw.
I know that. Do something. Be there for those children, for their
parents. Do all you can to alleviate pain where you are.
Sunday, I saw six teenagers (13 - 16) on their knees before me.
We went to a juvenile correction center Sunday afternoon.. We met eight
teenagers from 13 to 16. Each of them had been arrested by aunts, neighbors or
parents. As each child introduced himself or herself and told us why they were there, our
hearts and thoughts were affected. We heard awful stories from children, not
accusing those who had arrested them but
describing the circumstances around each arrest. Each of them will be incarcerated for three months before having to go to trial
to be told if they are guilty or innocent. We thanked God for the facility,
because they will be cared for and they do have a place to sleep. Not one of the
twelve caused me to be afraid of them or caused me to think I was in the midst of young
criminal minds. They were quiet, polite
teenagers. The staff was caring. We went with two ladies, Christiana and Joann, who go every Sunday to minister to those
children.
One boy was placed there, because he is a
blind 15 year-old. boy. His parents made him leave the house. In each case, there was no evidence - only the
accusation and the arrest. Two cell phones had disappeared. One neighbor accused two
of the young girls of stealing her clothes. One young
boy, only 13, was accused of stealing 600.000 shillings left in a neighborhood
store. Two of the young men had made professions of faith on previous visits. I had no idea was was
being said. Six young people, three girls and three boys knelt in front
of me with their heads bowed. They wanted me to pray for them. One of the ladies said the
sinner's prayer and all 8, the 6 kneeling and the other two young men, the blind boy and the young man next to me repeated in Kiswahili
that prayer. Then, I was given the privilege to pray for those
children. And we are going back. We wanted to take them all home with us. They
were fine young people. Adults had put them there.
The final
thing we have been allowed to see. A monkey. Our first.
On our property. In our back yard. There he was on the wall. We have a small
place where banana trees have been planted and two of the trees are bearing
bananas which will be ripe next month. We also have three dogs and there
is always dry food in the three pans outside for them always to have something
to nibble on. We have been told that now that the monkey knows there is food
always out and available, he will
return. So we wanted to share that we have seen a monkey on our property.
So we have
seen things that have made our hearts hurt, but we have also seen things that have made us laugh. Thank you for your prayers and for your giving. And
pray, also, about visiting us. God will bless you with experiences you will never forget.
The most memorable experience began a seminar teaching day. There were 56 people present. They were told to cry for others to be saved. And all present cried. Tears flowed. Uncontrollable weeping was not just heard, but done. It was the first time in my 45 years of preaching that a group
Job 28:7 reads, "No falcon has ever seen it." A falcon is known for acute vision from far-away distances. Job speaks of things that cannot be seen. It all depends on what you are looking at and why you are looking.
Can a pigeon describe a fountain in a park?
Does an eagle see a rose petal?
Does a flamingo see the bottom of the lake he stands in?
Does a duck see a cloud?
Does a goose see an apple blossom?
Can a pelican describe a palm tree?
Does an ostrich see a mountain in the distance?
Does a robin see a blade of grass?
Does an owl see the stars at night?
Does a seagull see a river?
Faith can be seen. Hope can be seen. Look at Love.
I will never be the same. I saw and I want you to to see what I saw.
I was invited to preach a Crusade in Mdori and to teach a seminar on Christian Growth. I was introduced to the Barbarig, Imbulu and Iraque tribes. I probably am not spelling them right, but I saw and heard things I will never forget and what I saw and heard has made me more committed than ever to these people. Most of the people I met cannot read or write. They are living in conditions many people around the world would categorize as inhumane. Good treatment of the cattle and goats comes first. Children and women experience neglect and beating few people on earth could even imagine. Christianity is a lifestyle that offends most of these people, yet the few (perhaps 200 who are Christian) are the most dynamic, joyful and sweetest people I have ever met.
I stayed with Bernard Gervas and his wife, Rosina. His life has been threatened twice, just because he was preaching about Jesus. They have been in Mdori about two years. They have been asked to leave where they were renting four times. "We don't want you in this village!" They are a small couple, beautiful people, physically as well as spiritually. The government gave them property. It was taken. They have been asked to leave the village, because the community did not want them. People I know, me included, would not function well when treated like this. At least once a month a young wife comes to the church and to Bernard, because she has been beaten almost unconscious. People, especially outsiders, do not interfere. A husband has the right because he is the husband to do anything he wants to to his wife and children.
I walked to church with a twenty-year old wife, who had been beaten badly by her husband of one year. He was a tall good-looking twenty-two-year-old who treated me kindly when I met him. The abused wife was going to accompany me to Arusha as I traveled that day. She was going to her sister. At the bus stop, she did not show up, because he had come to the church and she had left with him. Just last year, the pastor was called and she was found strapped to a tree,
badly beaten, because she had said to her husband, then only for a few months, "Don't hurt me again." The elders of the village and the government officials told her she had no right to speak that way to her husband. They felt she deserved to be beaten. The wife does not speak back. It is embarrassing to the man if his wife is rebellious in any way. Her comment, to all men who heard it, was rebellion.
The Christians are dynamic. They dance. They sing. They march. They smile and laugh. They kneel in public with raised hands. No one who saw them worship would ever imagine what they had seen or what they had had done to them.
I was told of a Youth Camp. It is a camp for 13 - 15 year-old girls. It is scheduled once a year. The mothers prepare their daughters for it, even sew skirts they are required to wear and for one week every male in the area, old and young have their way with each girl at camp. The happiest preacher, a young Barbarig, jumped and danced and smiled and led worship for all present in the outdoor crusade. She had been through that camp. I talked with this woman. She is now in her late twenties. She had also been required to become a second wife, but when she became a born again Christian, she left her village. They let her go because the witch doctor said it was better for the village for her to be gone. She is on a campaign, and will not leave the area, to bring Christianity to that faraway part of the world, but she is also on a campaign to help the women and girls who are hurt everyday. She is genuine in her joy. She told of being dragged from her church with the intent of her abductors to kill her. Her congregation of church friends saved her. I was in a nyumba with a young wife, dying of HIV/AIDS. I experienced a demonic exorcism, with the serious
change of voice and facial contortions. My cell phone rang and I went out of the nyumba. As I returned, the grandmother had passed out and was lying on the floor. Standing at the door watching and hearing it all were
two little girls, one a walking one-year-old, the second was her sister, a two-year-old. I picked up the baby and took the hand of the toddler. We went and sat on a mat under a large tree. An English speaking old man tried
to calm two frightened babies who could not understand a word I was saying. I prayed my tone of voice and my touching, holding and loving those precious children would be understood. The three of us sat under a sky that was getting dark and we could only see a small lighted can of kerosene in the doorway of their nyumba.
Finally the grandmother came out. The mother was dying. The father had infected six other women with the same disease in that village. One of the most emotional moments came the next day as I was teaching the healing of the paralytic and the four men brought their friend to Jesus. I was in the middle of that story when a straw mat was brought and laid down on the ground in front of me, and several people who had left the church earlier were bringing that young mother. We stopped and had prayer, immediately. It was moving for me, because I was in the middle of a praying believing group. My interpreter spoke to the side to me. They are doing what you are teaching.
One day I visited a boma and I met a seven-year-old boy who had been born with no mouth. The boma was a Barbarig compound. On a bed there lay a young man, unconscious. Agatha and her husband Simon, married for five years had opened their home to the young deformed boy and to the unconscious son and his mother (they had been living there two years.) They built them a nyumba and was taking care of them. And they were praising God for the opportunity to serve Him those ways.
The mother of that young woman was named Restitute Majengo. Now she was an older woman, but she had been the eighth wife of a witch doctor. She had been orphaned at age 7, and that 72 year-old witch doctor wanted her for his wife. I was told that the child would marry him to take care of him and to feed him (Thank God. Nothing sexual.) He had died, and she had remarried. She had Agatha when she was had married the second time.. She had mothered 7 children. She was a smiling proclaimer of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and volunteered to sing and to march whenever she was given the opportunity. She did not miss a single session (8 all together). She and the ladies of her village sang melancholic somber music. That is how it sounded to me, but the audience applauded and shouted. She had taken satanic demonic words and songs and put Jesus Christ in them. The audience recognized the songs, but loved the changed wording. I enjoyed the choirs who never sing without moving or without dancing. I watched as fifteen to twenty singers. paraded all over that outdoor area and together jumped up and clapped (catching satan) and wrestled with him and threw him to the ground. Then all together they stomped him into the dirt. Pastors from the whole region came. I was given one of them as my personal interpreter. He sat with me and explained what was happening and what was being said. He was the pastor of Gift Ministries Network Intouch. He was laughing so hard that he could not translate. He was enjoying what the people were doing. As I have said, few that were present could read or write, but what they sang or testified would have been embarrassing to scholastic theologians, who have written books. I conclude with translations of what they sang or said.
"When the devil comes in the air, smack him. When the devil come on the ground, stomp him. When the devil comes in the middle, strike him."
"My heart longs to see Jesus."
"Fill me with your joy."
"You have changed me. You can change others."
"All tribes may be saved; all people may be saved."
"No one can protect like you, God."
"Come to celebrate Jesus."
"Pray for yourself."
"I'm going to heaven."
"If a mother disowns, Jesus paid for my transportation to heaven. He does not disown me."
"I have come from Egypt and I cannot go back."
"Focus only on Jesus."
Eight of them had walked all day to get to the Crusade meetings. They did not miss a meeting all week.
It is impossible to comment on all the events I saw.
Every night after 8:30 P.M.dinner of rice and beans, maybe a little goat meat, dark shadows could be seen jumping by one kerosene lantern. Jumping shadows. Harmonious singing, "It could go on all night," I was told but they do not want to miss your conferences. It was very humbling to me. It effected my praying and my teaching and my preaching. At 4:30 A.M. every morning of the crusade,
everyone went to the church in an open field far from the village and prayed until daybreak. I preached but I was told after the first day, a forty-five sermon was too short. My translator told them "He's an American. He says it fast."
cried for the salvation of others. The leader said, "There is somebody out there who does not know Jesus. Hear my cry, O God, and touch that sister or that brother."
My eyes were opened. These are only a few things I saw.
Thank you for your prayers.
Thank you for your financial help.
Pray hard for yourselves. If you want to serve or minister in this area, let me know.
I want you to see. Several sessions, teaching and preaching, were closed with exuberant song, "I will say, Yes, Lord."
I just read this Scripture this morning and I close my article with it.
What is life all about?
Serving God and serving Him by serving others.
Part of my daily routine is to begin the day with a page from Thomas a'Kempis "Imitation of Christ" and to end the day with a page of "Imitation of Christ."
On today's (January 28, 2010) pages:
"Many would rather listen to the world than to God."
"Who is there that serves and obeys Me in all things?"
"My promise never fails."
"What I have promised, I will grant; what I have said, I will fulfill."
"My words are not to be weighed by man's understanding."
"If I only hear with the outward ear, and am not inwardly enkindled, I die."
The sun is shining. By 10:00 A.M. it will be very hot. Zakayo Leida has called. He is from Loliondo. For four days, Leida showed me his world. I sat on a bench in a boma. My kiswahili is kidoga sana (very small). I sat visiting Mama Peter, her daughter and her son, a Maasai moran. I was given a rooster, a gift that was dinner two nights later. The smiles and the greetings were genuine, even if the setting, far from civilization, was very quaint, very primitive. God was there. There was no floor, no furniture, no neighbors, no well, no grass; only three people with goats in the next room
and six boney cows outside the front door. The animals showed no interest. I walked with two Maasai morans. They spoke broken English, but smiled and said they were my bodyguards. Although they were concerned about the welfare of this old man, because I was asked every few feet how I was doing. We approached another boma, where the leader of women in that
area lived. She had four chairs in her nyumba, and though she spoke no English, I left with a note written in good English and it was her invitation for me to come back.
Wednesday I leave for a week to preach a crusade in Mdori. I go on an
African bus to be met beside an empty dirt road, to walk back to a village and to stay with Bernard and Rosina Garvas. "I fear no evil for Thou art with me."
Kanaankira is my interpreter at Neema (Hope) PAMC this Sunday. We
(Kanaankira, Godfrey, Barbara and me) travel to Babati and another seminar there.
Two ladies from Phoenix, Arizona come on February 11. We will
go to a local jail where five-year-olds, seven-year-olds and twelve-year-olds have been arrested and jailed and live. I talked to Vomo and his wife, JoAnn, this week to plan that. JoAnn will fill the vacancy on our Advisory Board, here in Tanzania. We are planning a Christian Ethics Conference for February 14-19 in two towns with interested invited guests from the USA. We have lawyers (male and female), police academy teachers (male and female), prison chaplains, business men and ladies, clergymen from the USAwho are interested and will come. On February 13, 2010, we meet with the Advisory
Board to plan the conference. The police chief in Moshi and a couple Tanzania lawyers are excited about this. Guests will come to stay with Called to Serve and it will be from February 11 - 23, 2011 - travel time included. We want to emphasize Christian Ethics in all areas of Tanzanian life in Moshi and in Arusha.
A Growth Seminar for the Maasai in Nanja with Immanuel Laizer is
planned for a week after Easter, this year. Immanuel emailed me yesterday and a baptism and the first Lord's Supper (ever) will be a part of that four day conference, Barbara leading the women, and me leading the men.
Our concern: energy and health to do it all. God will supply.
We ask all who read this to pray. Not just go through the motions
or saying prayer promises to us and not do it. But pray. Continue to give.
They have nothing to contribute. So please give, so bus tickets and food and equipment can be dependable for God's work to be done.
Pray for -
Mdori
Bernard, Rosina, Patricia, Esther, and Benjamin
Evangelistic TAG
Babati
Emmanuel / Saayo
Kanaankira / Neema
Godfrey
Kikatiti
All Nations - Vomo - JoAnn - The Street Children's Jail
Longido Pentacostal / Robert Mremi
Sambasha Baptist / Saitoti Mollel
Maria and Mark Phillips (from Lynchburg, Virginia)
Margaret and Marilyn (from Phoenix, Arizona)
FPCT / Ezekiel
Family Church First Baptist
Immanuel Laizer (Now a student in a Bible College in Tanga)
"We heard that God is with you." Zechariah 8:23
Next week I preach a four-day crusade in Mdori and lead a seminar on Christian Growth for three days. I will preach next Sunday in Mdori. Bernard Gervas is the young pastor that I met and worked with in Dar es Salaam in 1995. I will be with him and his wife,Rosina, and their three children, Patricia, Esther and Benjamin all week.
I stumbled as I walked, because it was four-thirty in the morning. I could not see the ruts in the road, caused by heavy rains. Blindly I walked almost falling when there was no ground where I stepped and jawing my teeth and entire body when the ruts rose, pushed up mounds of unseen dirt, and my foot stepped suddenly onto the elevated earth. Fortunately, no other living creature was present to see my unsteady stagger. I was to meet a taxi at the petrol station at 5:00 A.M. in order to be carried to the bus terminal to catch a bus at 6:00 A.M. Because side streets do not have names and houses have no numbers, it is more convenient to direct the taxi to a petrol station with a name.
It could be found easier. Directions are kept to a minimum in Africa.
Arriving at the bus stand, there was no life. The bus was alone in the dark.
I sat on a concrete step under a light, reading. A Maasai was asleep in the shadows, under his red plaid shuka. No other person was in sight. It was 5:30 A.M. At 6:00 A.M. people began to arrive. A second bus drove up.
It became loud with foreign language. Both buses filled quickly. Bread was hanging from the overhead handrails. Luggage, bags of grain, and boxes of all sizes filled the center aisle of the bus. It was friendly banter, but it was utter chaos. Two attendants were there to take the tickets, but many of the riders stood and had no tickets.
A young preacher from Wasso/Loliondo, Tanzania was to travel with me, to be my bodyguard and interpreter, but our seats were taken and he sat at the back of the bus,
once my seat was returned. With all the noise and the hectic busyness, no one knew or even attempted to know what was happening. I had my seat. It was my space for the next ten and a half hours, when we would arrive in Wasso, Tanzania. I was to teach a Christian Growth Seminar in Soit Sambu and a one-day Pastor's Leadership Conference in Sakala. Ten people became professing believers from that first seminar.
Gorgeous is inadequate to describe the country. Ngorogoro Crater, an animal preserve in a volcano, and the eastern part of the Serengeti was the country I was driving through. Herds of giraffes, zebra, wildebeest, and Johnson gazelles permeated five and a half hours through the Serengeti. We left the road and we drove on green natural animal-infested plains with blue skies that touched green earth for over five hours. I spent the first night
in Wasso; the second night with a dirt floor in a mudded stick house in Soit Sambu, and the next two nights in Wasso near Loliondo. It was an adventure I can't describe and one I will never forget. Pictures do not do justice to what I saw. I can only thank God for the experiences. Only He appreciates because He let me be part of it. As I stood next to a mud hut at dusk one night, I could see flat green land for miles. I had the strangest sensation I was in Wyoming in 1700. It was empty far west. I imagined the presence of unseen Indians. That night I slept on a cot with fierce hard winds blowing around that dirt three-room dwelling, Paul and Cecilia and their baby daughter across the way in another room like mine. I stood under a starlit sky no poet or artist could capture on paper. It all was a time of worship and praise.
I thank God for you, because you are giving me the opportunities to see,
to teach and to preach. I have even picked out my burial place, high on a hill in Nanja, overlooking an African valley that is breathtaking. Thank God for your prayers and for your gifts. I only wish you could feel and experience it as completely as you are allowing me. God bless you. The Maasai I met, I have been told, are from the original Maasai in Africa. They are a beautiful people.
I thank God for all of them and for you for letting me get to know them.
Be who you are . . .
and say what you feel . . .
because those that matter . . .
don't mind...
and those that mind . . .
don't matter...
We should not be here. But we are. God is using you to make it possible for us to be here. I was stopped on the street by another young man, who was calling "Professor." I had met him at a church in Ngaramtoni. Asking about my wife, I asked about his. He is now the father of a one and a half year-old son, but I had met him and his wife just before she delivered. A new restaurant, Africafe, opened yesterday and I went into meet two of the finest young women, Victoria and Rashida. Teams from the USA will be taken there. At the post office, I purchased six stamps and was treated kindly by two postal workers. God is good. All the time. All the time, God is good.
Because Barbara is having some dental problems, I was in the dentist's office at 7:30 A.M. this morning. They are Seventh Day Adventists. The appointment was made yesterday, but it had to be postponed, due to an illness. The dental problem worsens the sickness. However, I have met some of the kindest Tanzanians. The gate guard. The yardman at the dental complex. The receptionist. A young office worker who helped me this morning. I left the office at 7:50 A.M., having changed the appointment until 8:00 A.M. tomorrow. As I walked to the car, five female workers began to sing a hymn in English. I had noticed one of the attendants passing out the hymn books as I was changing the appointment. The dental staff was beginning their day's work in a dental office with worship, singing a hymn.
This morning, prior to going to the dental office, I had read Philippians 4:5 (The Everyday Reading Bible). "Don't worry about anything, but pray and ask God for everything you need, always giving thanks for what you have. And because you belong to Christ Jesus, God's peace will stand guard over all your thoughts and feelings."
Yesterday, standing in a long line to get my Tanzanian driver's license, a young woman helped me with directions. Two young men invited me to get in front of them. Two other men helped me translate and to fill out a Tanzanian application form.
Smiles. Greetings. Warm kindnesses. Acceptance. Today I have become conscious of the daily treatment that I get, and it is the forefront of my thinking. I do not deserve any of it. Buying dog food at a local grocery became a happy experience as I was surrounded by the clerks, and the bag boys with the brightest smiles and their genuine warm reception. They made this old man feel good. Leaving that group who made me feel they were glad to see me, I passed Joyce, a seller of roses, sitting behind her flowers. She is also a special person to know.
I began to make a list of all the ways He blesses me.
I leave for Ngorogoro Saturday to lead a three day seminar on Humility, Faith and Salvation at Soit Sambu Pentecostal Church and the Maasai.
I was called yesterday by Bernard Gervas and I will preach an evangelistic crusade at Mdori in February.
We were emailed form Arizona and asked to plan for the two ladies from there, to visit an incarceration center for street children and to visit the Maasai in Kimokouwa. Arrangements for a week have been made for a hospital physical therapist, coming the first of March.
Nightly, I text encouraging words all over Tanzania to people who have blessed my life. I want Christ to bless their lives. I want Christ to bless your lives.
All of these personal positive relationships have been orchestrated by God. Aren't you glad to be an important person in all that is happening?
Note from Elton---I wrote this while I was in Longido last week. A young interpreter, a
Maasai traveled with us. As I took him him one night, he spoke the
words that gave me the title for this article. He is a student at Tanga
Bible College. I hope to take a team to his church in Nanja. The moon is so bright I can read Called to Serve on the decals on either side of the car. I sit in a living room of a village elder. It is 10:00 P.M. Outside twenty-one children (I shook every hand.) noisily sing and dance, jump and stomp. Rhythmically their feet hit the ground and the joyous singing is repetitious. I met three other village elders. John, who owns the boma and the nyumba where I sit and have chai with them, is the elected government official. He tells me of the upcoming election this year. Then he tells me of the awful famine and drought, and that most of his twenty-one children cannot further their education because of the deaths of most of his cattle (120 of his 130 died for lack of water and grass). Conditions there have put all of their lives in serious danger. It is warm in the house and the lantern light makes the room temperature almost unbearable. A television set has been placed on the porch, facing the audience seated or standing in the yard. A generator can be heard in the distance to power the showing of The Jesus Film. Unseen to the eye are goats and sheep. Bells can be heard. The stars fill the bright night. Mount Longido is a large dark shadow. The week has been full of indescribable sites. Probably no one notices. The highlight of the days was a baptismal service. The outdoor baptistry had been filled. The water was brought to it twice a day. The baptisms were done in the same water that was used to complete the concrete church floor. Thirty-two people were taken through the baptismal waters. One from the USA wanted to be baptized in Africa. One of our interpreters wanted to have a believer's baptism. Kimokouwa Kanisa had 30 candidates. Worship was conducted under the trees where the church had begun. Church benches were brought out. A choir of thirty-six danced only as the Maasai can dance and jumped and marched in thick red dust for nearly an hour. Testimonies were given. Maasai and Americans worshiped together. A brief baptismal message was delivered. A line of 32 was formed at the baptistry. Each candidate was given a white Maasai cross necklace when they came from the water. To remember the date, January 1, 2010, each person that was baptized was given a baptismal certificate.
We are going to show The Jesus Film to a population so far from civilization we had to drive for miles in the dark and make our own road as we traveled here. A team from America has spent two days putting a concrete floor in Kimokouwa Kanisa, out in the bush about 30 kilometers from the Kenyan border. The day began at 6:20 A.M. in Longido, Tanzania. It ended at 2:00 A.M. Today is January 1, 2010. There are at least 100 people, standing in the yard with the moon shining bright. A soft breeze is blowing the colorful garments of the traditional Maasai attire. They are all dressed that way. One girl voluntarily sings and all present echo in response. The harmony is exquisite.
It started on the previous Sunday. A choir in St.Andrews Anglican formed a large V at the front of the church and the choir director in falsetto sang all four parts softly, but loud enough for his choir to hear and to harmonize. A two-year-old joined his mother in the V-shaped choir. She sang tenor with the men and her son copied. He participated. His movements and his rhythm captivated me. He duplicated every movement the men made. Now it is Friday night. It is dark. The Maasai harmonize. The deep male harmony is accented by the soprano choruses. The sound and the sight are things television shows and performances done at amusement parks, on ships, in theaters rehearse for months before they are performed. These people sing and harmonize so easily. It is a beautiful thing to hear and to see.
Three other highlights were the three visits to orphanages, the first to One Heart Source (housing 20), the second to Cradle of Love (housing 35), the third to Samaritan Village (housing 27). They are all beautiful children, and taken good care of. The distributing of mosquito nets to Augustine Perfect Secondary School and enough nets for for Samaritan Villages' new dormitory. The house they have now will be used for the babies. The new facility will house 50 abandoned children. With us was a young Maasai pastor, Immanuel Laizer, from Nanja, who was seeing and experiencing all of this for the first time. He was asked, "Why are you being so affected?" Immanuel said, "Because I saw it." If you could only see it, it would change the way you think.
Thank you for praying and giving to the ministry of Called to Serve. Only God can adequately express His gratitude to you. Our words of thanksgiving to you are not enough, but we say them anyway. Called to Serve is blessed by you who pray and give. Deuteronomy 2:18 reads, "Do what is right and good in God's sight, and it will go well with you."
There is so much, "Story So Far", that it had to be taken offline.
You are still welcome and encouraged to read it.
We have their missionary journey listed here as
.pdf files. You will need to install the free download of Adobe Reader to read the
files. If you do not have Adobe, please <click here>
The "Story So Far"-2009
Collection...<click here> The "Story So Far"-2008
Collection...<click here>
The "Story So Far"-2006-2007 Collection...<click here>
Also please visit the "Genesis" page, to see how Called-to-Serve began!!!