Slow to Speak

Our first couple days were spent hauling bricks up a mountain.  (I could hardly live through it.  I have not had the strength to write about it yet.)  They were being gathered for a two houses being built.  Clearly we had no idea what we were doing so we got stuck with the grunt work.  It was like being a kid all over again. :)

On the third day of hauling we rotated our team in and out, 3-4 at a time, to actually spend a few minutes building the house.  We would stick around long enough to get a few pictures and fling a little mud.  I was thrilled to hear it was my turn.  I entered the home and was taking in all the directions.  They line the brick where it goes and I fling mud all around it to form the glue that will hold it in place.  I was given a pile of freshly made mud and away I went.  

Throwing mud seemed to be a talent of mine and I ran out of my pile quickly.  I looked around and asked my teammates if they knew where I could get more mud.  No one knew.  I looked for a translator to ask them but could not find one.  Finally the Batwa man that was 12 inches from my face, just on the other side of the brick, said, “It is over there.  They are making more.”  

I stood straight up and could feel my eyes get HUGE.  I said, “You speak English!!!”  He shyly smiled and waved me off.   I said, “No, I am on to you!  You speak English!”  He told me he could speak a little.  His name was Damien and he had spent a couple years during the genocide in a refugee camp in Kenya.  They spoke mostly English so he had to learn quickly.  

I gave him a hard time about holding out on us and secretly listening in on our conversations.  He blushed a bit but you could tell he was quite proud to be able to communicate.    Longin had been the translator at the house but was called off for the moment.  I told Damien, “You are our translator now!”  He was a bit intimidated but up for the challenge.  

Damien (in white shirt)

I wondered why he kept silent for so long.  Was he intimidated, meek, humble, unsure?  Regardless of what it was, I knew I could learn from him.  He spent several days in silence only breaking the silence when he was able to help.  

Quick to listen and slow to speak.  (James 1:19)  

Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. (Ephesians 4:29)

If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all (Mom)

African Surprise

I am very detail oriented.  That means spontaneity is not my specialty.  This is one reason Ken is so good for me.  He is super fun and has never cared about a single detail in his life.  We are a perfect mix of extreme opposites!  Because of my deep love for details, I in turn do not like surprises.   I want to know what to expect at all times so I can plan and prepare for every part.

When doing missions, this is not always a good trait.  Flexibility is vital.  So, I just plan for being flexible.  Before I go, I try to think of everything that may come up and try to be prepared for that. I prepare a devotion, testimony, talk on youth ministry, a random Bible lesson, I ALWAYS pack a deck of cards and spoons, and a few other things - just in case!  

Me, Nicola. Lisa, Jay

On the Wednesday we were in the village, Nicola (the missionary there) told me we were going to need someone who was willing to preach the sermon on the following Sunday.  Normally that would be our pastor, Jay.  However, this year he and a couple of the other guys were leaving early to go see some other work in another part of Africa so he would not be available.  Evidently there was a vote while I was not around and Jay told me I was nominated.  

Certainly something I had prepared would work, right?  They wanted me to speak for about 20-30 minutes.  I teach almost every Sunday for longer than that, so this was not too intimidating.  The rest of the week I mulled over some thoughts and had a decent outline.  I was feeling pretty confident.  

Saturday evening came.  We were getting ready for dinner when I saw Nicola walking rather briskly toward me.  She had a smirk on her face.  I was not sure if this was good news or bad news for me.  “I have a little African surprise for you.”  I quickly determined it was bad news for me.  “Instead of preaching for 20-30 minutes, we need you to preach for an hour.”

The Drummers of Burundi

Nothing could have prepared me for that!  Not only did I need to double or triple my talk, it was already Saturday night.  We were on our way to dinner and following that was our celebration.  Because I was there last year, I knew that meant the rest of the evening was filled with the drummers performance, a time for thank you gifts and speeches, and fellowship with all the translators.  It would be 9 or 10 at night before I would be able to sit down and figure out what in the world I was going to do for the next morning.  

My original plan was to talk to them about the church being missional.  I was going to make Jay proud for sure!  Once I found out about this “African surprise”, I quickly changed gears and went middle school on them.  I spend a lot of my time and energy talking to our middle schoolers about having a genuine life-altering relationship with Jesus.  You know, a relationship instead of a religion.  

Too many people that attend church treat it as another activity in their busy lives.  It is like Jesus is another category or facet of who they are.  Work, family, God, friends, hobbies, etc.  Really, if we are honest, if we take a very hard look at our lives, many of us would have to say that our lives are still lived to serve ourselves instead of God.  We are kind because it makes us feel good.  We are giving because it makes us look good.  Not everyone!  Just many.  

If you claim to follow Jesus, it changes everything.  Everything I do, everything I think, everything I say, every choice I make.  Everything is centered on God.  My life is not my own.  I died to myself.  Living for myself; what makes me happy and what makes me feel good, is no longer relevant.  The old person that I was is gone.  “I no longer live but Christ lives in me.”  It is not that I am just a good and moral person.  Not just that I contribute to society.  Not just that I am a loving person.  The only thing I desire to do is to help make an invisible God visible.  Love God and love others.  Everything I do runs through that filter.

Preaching Sunday Morning

I wish I could say I am that person.  I try but am clearly a work in progress.  We all are.  However, this should be who we are striving to become.  The world has more than enough moral people who are kind and loving when it is easy and comfortable.  What we need are people who choose to love the unlovable, accept the unaccepted, and care for the forgotten.  People who give when it is not expected, serve when it is not noticed, give time when we don’t have it, and extend grace to those who don’t deserve it.  We need people that love because He first loved them.  People that don’t live a life where God is part of it but live a life where God is all of it.  

This is my heart beat.  This is what I want for my life, my children, my students, and it is what I asked of our African friends that Sunday morning.  I was not as articulate as I wished I had been.  It is hard to speak using a translator.  You have to speak in sentences instead of thoughts.  But, I went on for about 45 minutes so hopefully my heart was heard.  I am pretty sure the other 15 minutes they had to fill was spent cleaning up the mess I made.  But, I made it through. 

Lord, may I be who you intended me to be.  Help me to get out of the way so that You can be seen.  Thank you for the grace You give me when I do not represent You well.

"You Again?!"

Each person on the team for Africa was chosen because of what Pastor Jay would call their “skill set”.  I found it funny that I could never get him to actually name what mine was.  We did a lot of things that week and I can now tell you what my skill set is not!  (That is another post!)  

I suppose the fact that I am one of the few people who does not fear public speaking qualified as a skill set.  Pastor Jay recruited me and we led a two day pastor training conference.  Many of these pastors traveled several hours to listen to us.  Really!  We had to end our sessions by 3:00 so they had time to get home before dark, 4 hours later!  The back of the chapel filled up with bikes and 45 pastors sat ready to listen.

Only around 60% of the pastors were literate.  Of those, few of them had an education beyond 8th grade.  Their literacy is more survival than it is functional.   That means 40% of the pastors sitting with us could not read or write!  If you can not read the Bible, how are you suppose to be responsible to help others know what it says?  Often the pastor of a church is chosen because they are one of the few that can read or because they need a job.  Since it will put food on the table they sign up.   Needless to say, few are equipped or trained for the job.  

We wanted to teach the training in a way that on the next Sunday morning, even the illiterate would be able to retell the story of Jesus and how God has kept all His promises.  Knowing the ability to take notes or reread a passage was very limited, we decided to teach in story form.  

Jay was everything they had hoped for.  When he got up to speak, it was clear that their long journey had been worth it.  He taught the entire Bible.  Genesis through Revelation.  He focused on the creation, fall, and redemption of man.  They ate up the details, new ideas and thoughts that were being revealed.  It was fun to see people full of such joy and gratitude at the chance to hear God’s message.   

Then there was me.  I really like to be the fun girl.  I want people to be eager to listen to me.   I always hope their hearts will skip a beat when they know I am about to bless them with my wisdom.  I wish, just once, when someone was asked, “who is your favorite speaker?” my name would be mentioned.  A girl can dream!  But boy, was I a let down!  

I often felt like the “red headed step child”.   The pastors really wanted what Jay was offering, but when I got up, I saw a room full of looks like, “really, you again?!”  Far from what a speaker dreams of.   Although I thought of myself as a vital part of the learning (and remembering) process, to them I was what they had to endure to get back to Jay.  I was recap girl.  It was good that I strongly believed in what God had asked me to do or I would have called in sick for day 2.

We split the Bible into 8 sessions.  While Jay was telling the story of the Bible, I would frantically work to write a very abbreviated and succinct version of the session Jay had just taught.   When it was my turn to speak, I would involve the pastors in retelling my version of the story.  I would say, “In the beginning, God created the …” and they would say, “heavens and earth” and so on.  I then asked them to turn and tell the story, as we just retold it, to someone near them.  

Even though I was not their all time favorite speaker, by the time I was done with them they had heard the story, helped me retell the story, told someone else the story, and listened one more time to the story from another pastor.   If they did not have it down by then, there was not much more I could do!  I would then follow up with questions to try and help them apply what they learned to their everyday lives.  I would sit down.  Jay would speak again.  When he was done I would get back up getting more looks of disappointment.  This went on for 8 sessions!

It was humbling. I guess we are not always called to be the favorite. Not all the roles in God's plan are glamorous. Yet, just being part of God's plan is enough. I have joy knowing I was allowed a small role in helping His story be passed on to more generations. That is also very humbling,