I arrived safely to Southern California on Friday and am thankful for the opportunity to be here in the States for the next six weeks. I have come to spend Christmas with my family, to celebrate the wedding of one of my dearest friends, and to meet and share with churches and individuals about what God is doing in ELI’s health ministry.
I wanted to share about an amazing experience I had last week. On my way to the States, I had the privilege of spending five days in a beautiful little French town at the base of the Jura Mountains. I went for a retreat at a center called LeRucher. This center was created to be a refuge where missionaries could come "to be refreshed in their calling in God and remain effective to serve in difficult places.” Personally, it was a time for me to come away and receive spiritual direction from gifted counselors and to process some very difficult experiences that I have lived this year. In the moments of stillness I remembered God’s mercies and faithfulness. I was reminded of the passions and calling He has placed deep within me. With all that has been lost, my yearning to see God’s kingdom come remains unchanged. More than ever before, I am compelled to love from a pure heart. My desire is to walk humbly with God and to extend justice and mercy to those who surround me. I feel God urging me to speak on behalf of those whose voices can rarely be heard.
My final session involved an extended time of prayer and taking communion. In preparation for this, I was asked to write a letter to God as an expression of faith. I want to share part of it with you in hopes that it might encourage any of you who are facing uncertain futures, disappointments, loss, unanswered questions... It is raw but reflects a journey of hope God is leading within me:
My Jesus, You who journeyed to this broken world for the sake of loving me - I am Yours. Thank you for humbling Yourself, for giving up what was rightfully yours, to become poor. You, the King of all Kings, entered humanity as a vulnerable baby and were laid in a dirty cattle trough. You, the Creator of All, became dependent upon your creation. You experienced all of life: hunger and fullness, joy and pain, loneliness and deep relationship. You suffered terribly. You loved perfectly. You were tempted, misunderstood and rejected. You were betrayed by your dearest friends. You allowed your heart to be moved with compassion over suffering and grieved over the loss of your friend. You came with a purpose- to rescue what had been lost. It cost you everything. I will never understand. You broke through all boundaries to love me; and apart from my love, You had nothing to gain. Oh the foolishness of the cross. Of all the mysteries of the universe, this is the greatest; but your death and resurrection is my only hope for life. I will be forever grateful.
You have received me as I am and given me a new name. I am your delight. Your loving-kindness has pursued me every moment of my life and is a constant even when so many things I hold dear are being stripped away. In this season of brokenness, You have heard my prayers and allowed my crying to come before You. Thank you for being near to this broken heart. Beyond my understanding, You have been my strength and my song. Your mercies have been enough for each day and have carried me when I felt like giving up. Although Satan has tried to kill, steal and destroy my community, ministry, relationships and even my own heart; You, the giver of abundant life, are making all things new. I am confident that what is of You will remain. It will be purified.
This year I have lived through war, an earthquake, deaths of individuals that I have loved, dramatic transitions within ministry, and deep disappointment. I have watched as a community broke into chaos and bitter roots of hatred, pride, and fear thrived. Calm returned but the deep wounds were already gaping. The façade I had been living within of being a community where we love our neighbors came crashing down. The gap between the knowledge of our heads and the expressions of our hearts remained before us. Oh, be merciful to us and teach us how to live.
This journey has been like walking along a dirt path in the darkness of night. It is uneven, and I do not know where to step. I have felt alone and without clarity of direction. I have sensed the panic that comes with being lost. It has been desperately fearful and overwhelming. I have been deeply disappointed. I have stumbled along the way, but I have chosen to get back up and take another step. At times, the night seemed as if it would never end, and I have wondered if the darkness would swallow me within it. Desiring relief, I have looked for refuge in places that were unable to provide it. I have asked questions without answers and cried countless tears; but in the moments I have been still, I have heard your whisperings. They have been reminders that my loneliness is only an illusion, and I am not alone. The darkness has never been dark to You. You have not been limited by my questions. There have been times where the darkness threatened to steal all that is mine; but instead of succeeding, a deeper trust has been developed within me as I learn to walk by faith and not by sight.
My Jesus, it is You alone that can make light shine into the darkness. You can take what was meant for evil and use it for my good. In your gracious way, and for your glory alone, I trust You to restore and redeem what feels shattered and lost. I am hard pressed on every side, yet not crushed; I am perplexed but not in despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed. Who then shall separate me from Your love? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril or sword?... Yet in all these things I am more than a conqueror through You who loves me. For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor principalities nor powers, nor things present nor things to come, nor height nor depth, nor any other created thing, shall be able to separate me from Your love. Nimeamua kufuata Yesu. Sitarudi nyuma tena. (I have decided to follow Jesus. I will not return again). All my love is yours.
After I read this letter and began to take communion, I had a beautiful picture of Jesus picking the arrows, one by one, out of my heart. When there were no more, He gently put bandages to bind it back together. Whatever you may be facing this day, know that God has come near and He loves you as you are. He is the God that is able to restore what is broken.
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
Hope
Four years ago I met a little girl named Charity. She was three years old and an orphan living with her siblings and grandmother. I met her on only one occasion, but I have never forgotten her. Along with her older brother Benson, she was intended to come to the children's home that was being opened in a village called Ilula. I had just moved to Kenya and was a part of the team that went to pick up these two children for their medical check-ups. I still can hear the doctor's words: "This one," in reference to Charity, "is HIV positive." At that time, the children's home was not prepared to care for children living with HIV/AIDS; therefore, Charity was returned to stay at home with her grandmother. During my time in Kenya, I have often looked back on this day and wondered if there was something that could have been done differently.
Last week I felt God compelling me to go back to Charity's home. In my spirit, I knew it was time to stop wondering about this little one. I did not know what to expect in going. I did not even know if she was still alive. Without a further plan in place, I trusted that God's grace would cover the situation and lead me. After the two hour drive through terribly muddy and bumpy roads, I arrived back to the simple mud hut of this dear grandma and was greeted warmly by her and her grandchildren. Charity was the first to greet me. All I can say is that she was beautiful and so playful. She sat beside me, laughing and telling me stories in Kalenjiin.
Her grandma explained that she has been healthy. She attends a nearby HIV clinic monthly; and because her immune system is still functioning well, she has yet to be started on antiretrovirals. She receives food support from the clinic. She attends a local pre-school; and, almost perfectly, she recited her ABC's for me.
As I proceeded to leave, Charity walked me to the car. I sensed, in a powerful way, that God led me to Charity's home and not because I was to help and fix anything. Hopefully, I was an encouragement to the family; but the truth is, God desired to remind me that He is able. As the Psalms promise: "The needy will not always be forgotten. The hopes of the poor will not always be crushed."
In Kipkaren, so much hardship has surrounded us this year. There have been seasons of overwhelming suffering and disappointment. The phrase that comes to my mind is I had hoped. I had hoped that peace and justice would fill our community. Instead, I watched hatred, along tribal lines, kill and displace my neighbors. I had hoped, with all of my heart, that God would heal a baby named Felix. Instead, there is a little grave and a mother left to grieve. I had hoped that things would be different. I had hoped.
I think about Abram and Sarai who had hoped for a child. I cannot imagine the feelings Abram must have felt when God appeared to him and promised to give him a son (Genesis 15). He and his wife were too old. They had learned to live with barrenness. They had given up hope that they would bear their own child and were ready to settle for the obvious: a servant would be their heir.
God appeared to Abram and promised the impossible. Abram's choice to believe God required reopening broken places. It involved awakening lost dreams. To hope again was not a "safe" option. Could he and his wife possibly bear being disappointed again? In his crisis of belief, God led Abram outside and said: "Look up at the heavens and count the stars—if indeed you can count them. So shall your offspring be." Abram chose to believe.
Like Abram, I have been forced to make choices between settling for the obvious or trusting God for what simply seems impossible. In truth, at one time or another, we all have. Jesus promised: "In this world, you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world" (John 16:33). Wright states, "Hope for the Christian is not wishful thinking or mere optimism. It is a mode of knowing in which new things are possible. Options are not shut down. New creation can happen. God gives his people the feet to walk the path that they are on. God comes on the road and meets us in the midst of our broken places and catches us up in this movement of all things being made new."
Thank you for traveling with me on this journey of hope.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Fasting
Throughout this day, I have been challenged by the suffering that surrounds me. I have been asking God for wisdom and compassion to respond. I went to a home this morning to visit a three week old baby girl named Michelle. Her mother tragically died during childbirth. She had labored and delivered Michelle at home; but when the placenta failed to deliver, she was carried several kilometers to our clinic. She passed away upon arrival. She was a single mom and left behind three young children. As I sat beside the grandmother who is taking care of this baby, tears streamed down her face. She asked questions without answers. She wanted to know why four of her daughters have died. She talked of the pain that fills her, the responsibilities that feel unbearable. Then she said, with her hand on the baby’s forehead: “this is my blessing that God has left behind.”
As I listened to the words from this grandmother’s broken heart, a passage I read this morning in Isaiah flooded my mind. It says:
Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; when you see the naked, that you cover him, and not hide yourself from your own flesh? Then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard (58:6-8).
I considered this question: what must I be willing to give up, in this situation, in order to extend compassion? The answer, at least for the moment, was my comfort. I chose to be present with this family and to feel their pain. There were no simple answers to their loss, and so I refrained from trying to offer any. This may sound noble; but the truth is, it is the only thing I had to offer. As I left the home, I held this tiny gift from God and told her that she was loved, that she was known by God, that this was not her fault. I am convinced that, as Mother Teresa put into words, “only in heaven will we see how much we owe to the poor for helping us to love God better because of them”.
As I listened to the words from this grandmother’s broken heart, a passage I read this morning in Isaiah flooded my mind. It says:
Is this not the fast that I have chosen: To loose the bonds of wickedness, to undo the heavy burdens, to let the oppressed go free, and that you break every yoke? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and that you bring to your house the poor who are cast out; when you see the naked, that you cover him, and not hide yourself from your own flesh? Then your light shall break forth like the morning, your healing shall spring forth speedily, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of the LORD shall be your rear guard (58:6-8).
I considered this question: what must I be willing to give up, in this situation, in order to extend compassion? The answer, at least for the moment, was my comfort. I chose to be present with this family and to feel their pain. There were no simple answers to their loss, and so I refrained from trying to offer any. This may sound noble; but the truth is, it is the only thing I had to offer. As I left the home, I held this tiny gift from God and told her that she was loved, that she was known by God, that this was not her fault. I am convinced that, as Mother Teresa put into words, “only in heaven will we see how much we owe to the poor for helping us to love God better because of them”.
Monday, August 25, 2008
The Blind Are Seeing
I wanted to say thank you to each of you who has been praying for Emily Cheptum. Her eye surgery was successful, and she is now able to see! It truly is a miracle. When she was discharged from the hospital yesterday, Emily asked to be driven around town because she had never been able to see it before. She arrived to Kipkaren and went straight to the children's home to see her 96 little friends. She has been commenting that some of us look different than she had imagined. It is amazing, and we are so grateful to God for the ways He is working in our midst. Thank you again for your prayers and support.
Friday, July 25, 2008
Emily Cheptum
When the Kingdom of God comes, a glimpse of what was intended to be breaks through the brokenness of this world and into our lives. Two years ago we welcomed 93 little ones into Kipkaren Children's Home. Like it was yesterday, I remember their bare feet and ragged clothes. I remember the tears that streamed down all of our faces as we were confronted with the love of God and the realization of a dream. The loss that had crushed the spirits of these children was unmistakable. Their eyes were filled with countless questions to be answered. I am grateful to God for the group of committed parents, directors, and the home that awaited them. More than mere need compelled us to care for these children. It was compassion. It has been indescribably beautiful to watch these children discover that they have a Father who knows them by name and loves them as they are. Standing outside one Saturday morning, as the sun was rising, I heard the children sing these words in Swahili: "If it weren't for You, where would I be?" And I realized that they know the love of Christ because there are a group of people who 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, 365 days a year pour out their lives and love for the sake of these children.
I wish there was a way to tell in words the transformation that is taking place within the lives of these children, as well as with us who have the privilege of living life with them. One man, who recently came to visit us, began to weep as he listened to the children sing and watched them dance. He later explained, "it was their pure joy that overwhelmed me". I have heard others share that they expected to feel sorry for the kids; but instead, they only see hope. For me, it is life-giving to watch them, even as children, learn to extend this same love that they have received. The children, on weekends, often ask to go into the community to visit the sick, the poor, the widows. They assist the people in carrying water, collecting firewood, and cleaning the compound. The older children help care for the younger ones. Even as Flovia arrived to the home, she was received with so much love by her new family.
A few months ago, I shared in an update about a 17 year old girl named Emily Cheptum. She has insulin-dependent diabetes and has lost her vision; because of her illness and difficult home situation, Cheptum came to live with us in Kipkaren. Currently, her blood sugars are well controlled, and we are preparing to take her for eye surgery. Every evening, Cheptum walks to the children's home to sing and pray with the kids. She loves them and is being loved by them in return. One Sunday morning, several of our kids prayed for Cheptum in the service. They prayed with confidence and passion. As I listened to them, I was being taught a lesson about faith. As Heidi Bakker says, "little children aren't ruined by unbelief". It humbly amazes me the way the love and faith demonstrated by these kids ushers in the Kingdom.
Without a doubt, this is a journey of learning to love and be loved, and I am grateful for all who have chosen to be a part.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Hunger & Thirst
They shall neither hunger nor thirst anymore; the sun shall not strike them, nor any heat; for the Lamb who is in the midst of the throne will shepherd them and lead them to living fountains of waters. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes. Revelation 7:16-17
They shall neither hunger nor thirst anymore... As I read this promise in scripture, it makes me long for the day when it becomes reality. I was once told a story about a Kenyan man whose definition of Heaven was the place where hunger no longer existed. His lived experience, like too many living in this broken world, is of pain of hunger on a daily basis. Praying for daily bread is a literal prayer. I remember the day I was first confronted with this reality. I was sitting in the home of a single mother as she shared about her experience of waking up each morning unsure of how she would feed her children. Rather than complaining about her situation, she was describing the faithfulness of God and explaining the numerous ways He had provided for her and her children.
Over the past three months, Tumaini na Afya (Hope & Health) has engaged in a battle we did not set out to fight. What started as an isolated situation of two little ones failing to thrive has repeated itself multiple times. In a way that I have never seen before in Kipkaren, there are starving children. Compassion has compelled us to respond with action. We are investing nourishing food and lots of love into lethargic and wasted bodies. It is amazing how quickly these children come back to life. They regain their appetites and begin to play again.
I greatly value the mission of Empowering Lives that urges us to move beyond relief and handouts to develop long lasting empowerment within the communities that we serve. Experience has taught us that this takes place one life at a time and does not occur overnight. Our goal is to see lives transformed: physically, emotionally and spiritually. A wise Chinese proverb states, "Give a man a fish; you have fed him for today. Teach a man to fish; and you have fed him for a lifetime." I humbly add; in the meantime, it is necessary to share what you have. When Jesus was confronted with hungry people, he had compassion on them and told the disciples: "They don't need to go away. You give them something to eat." The resources they had were a mere five loaves of bread and two fish; but when surrendered to Jesus, it met the needs of a multitude (Matthew 14:15-21).
I wanted to update you on the three year old little girl, Flovia, I have been sharing about. Two weeks ago she moved from the clinic and has found a new home at our children's home. She is doing very well. I am grateful to all who have been praying on her behalf. There is a new little girl I am working with named Chiri. She is four years old and weighs only 17 pounds. She has, along with her little brother and sister, entered my heart. I am praying for life to be restored to this little one.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Where is God?
Where is God in a world so full of unspeakable pain? This question was posed on the back cover of a book I was reading as I waited for the funeral of a seven year old girl to begin. It was a question I was asking as I felt the loss of this beautiful little girl named Viola. In a two week period of time, she was the second child our community was gathering together to bury. In my spirit, I was wrestling with harsh realities and great sadness. Viola died from a preventable and treatable disease.
A few days ago, a 17 year old, single mother gave us her three month old baby. This precious little girl, weighing only seven pounds, was unable to defend herself. She was unable to speak for herself except for her brown eyes that pierced my heart. Her mother was overwhelmed with the burdens of life. She grew up in a home where her single mother sold herself to feed her children. The cycle is now being repeated. This baby, appropriately named Grace, was accepted at a children’s home about an hour away from Kipkaren. When we arrived at the children’s home, the director said, “Where is the unwanted child?” His wife, who was holding the baby, quickly replied by speaking these life-giving words to the baby: “You are wanted. Listen to me. I want you.” I cannot help but ache for this young mother who remains without hope. My heart also aches for her other daughter, Ivy, who at two years old is blind, deaf, mute, and lame. Where is God in a world so full of unspeakable pain?
My little Flovia, the severely malnourished three year old I have written about before, has been with us for the past two and a half months and is thriving. She has brought me more joy than I can describe. She has increased from 14 lbs. to 22 lbs. She has relearned to walk and loves to play with her little baby doll. She now has the energy to throw major temper-tantrums and is incredibly particular about everything. Honestly, she could not be more lovely. She is learning to speak in multiple languages and calls everyone who cares for her “Mama.” This is who we are to her. The odds are stacked against this orphaned, HIV+ child; and the question, once again, resurfaces: Where is God? The truth is, as in every situation above, He is right in the middle of the pain. Closer than I know, He is grieving with the mother who has lost her child. His loving kindness is pursuing this teenage mom that is broken-hearted and without hope. He is fighting and giving a voice to the abandoned baby and helpless orphans.
In my life, I am finding that the closer I get to God the closer I get to the suffering. Never has the contrast between joy and pain been as real to me as it is now. It seems it should be either one or the other. However, in this land joy and pain coexist. I walk and play with barefooted children each day. I listen to orphans sing, “The Lord is my portion in the land of the living. The Lord is good forevermore.” The sun rises and sets each day reminding me that the Lord is faithful. I do not always feel His presence, but I have learned to trust that there is a share of mercy that is enough for everything that will be encountered this day.
A few days ago, a 17 year old, single mother gave us her three month old baby. This precious little girl, weighing only seven pounds, was unable to defend herself. She was unable to speak for herself except for her brown eyes that pierced my heart. Her mother was overwhelmed with the burdens of life. She grew up in a home where her single mother sold herself to feed her children. The cycle is now being repeated. This baby, appropriately named Grace, was accepted at a children’s home about an hour away from Kipkaren. When we arrived at the children’s home, the director said, “Where is the unwanted child?” His wife, who was holding the baby, quickly replied by speaking these life-giving words to the baby: “You are wanted. Listen to me. I want you.” I cannot help but ache for this young mother who remains without hope. My heart also aches for her other daughter, Ivy, who at two years old is blind, deaf, mute, and lame. Where is God in a world so full of unspeakable pain?
My little Flovia, the severely malnourished three year old I have written about before, has been with us for the past two and a half months and is thriving. She has brought me more joy than I can describe. She has increased from 14 lbs. to 22 lbs. She has relearned to walk and loves to play with her little baby doll. She now has the energy to throw major temper-tantrums and is incredibly particular about everything. Honestly, she could not be more lovely. She is learning to speak in multiple languages and calls everyone who cares for her “Mama.” This is who we are to her. The odds are stacked against this orphaned, HIV+ child; and the question, once again, resurfaces: Where is God? The truth is, as in every situation above, He is right in the middle of the pain. Closer than I know, He is grieving with the mother who has lost her child. His loving kindness is pursuing this teenage mom that is broken-hearted and without hope. He is fighting and giving a voice to the abandoned baby and helpless orphans.
In my life, I am finding that the closer I get to God the closer I get to the suffering. Never has the contrast between joy and pain been as real to me as it is now. It seems it should be either one or the other. However, in this land joy and pain coexist. I walk and play with barefooted children each day. I listen to orphans sing, “The Lord is my portion in the land of the living. The Lord is good forevermore.” The sun rises and sets each day reminding me that the Lord is faithful. I do not always feel His presence, but I have learned to trust that there is a share of mercy that is enough for everything that will be encountered this day.
Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Felix
For us in Kipkaren, the last few days have been full of great sorrow and loss as our little Felix, one of the two malnourished children we have been caring for, passed away on Sunday morning. Felix was only 14 months old. He had finally increased in weight and had gained the strength to hold up his own head. About a week ago, I was blessed as I sat and played with Felix and heard the sound of his laughter. It was beautiful. He was beautiful with his big brown eyes that always seemed to be asking questions. When I held him, he would often touch my face with his tiny little hand. To say the least, he had captured my heart. On Wednesday, a pastor had come to pray for both Felix and Flovia. After praying, the pastor laid Felix down and said, "I'm looking at the image of God." For sure, it was true.
On Friday evening, Felix suddenly fell very ill with a high fever. He was struggling to breathe. We rushed him to a hospital about an hour away, and he remained there with his mother until he passed away. In his short life, Felix fought a very tough fight against HIV and tuberculosis. I think he just got tired and needed to rest. My heart aches as I longed to see him live. My heart aches for his 18 year old mother who has experienced so much loss. Her name is Emily, and I ask you to pray for her. Imagine, she is 18 and a widow. Her husband passed away in November from an AIDS related illness. It was at this time that Emily learned that, after only one year of marriage, she and her son were also infected with HIV. She was left alone to raise her son as well as the two orphans from her husband's first marriage. I met Emily a few days after the burial of her husband; and over these past months, she has become so dear to me. When I look at her, I see a girl with the heavy weight of the world crushing her and stealing all of her dreams. Oh, how I long to see what has been lost restored. Only God can do it. Jesus has entrusted us to be His hands and feet to Emily; and for the sake of love, we will do it with all of our hearts.
I am so grateful for the love of God. He gave me eyes to see beyond Felix's broken and wasted body. I was privileged to hold a child of the King whose worth was beyond measure.
On Friday evening, Felix suddenly fell very ill with a high fever. He was struggling to breathe. We rushed him to a hospital about an hour away, and he remained there with his mother until he passed away. In his short life, Felix fought a very tough fight against HIV and tuberculosis. I think he just got tired and needed to rest. My heart aches as I longed to see him live. My heart aches for his 18 year old mother who has experienced so much loss. Her name is Emily, and I ask you to pray for her. Imagine, she is 18 and a widow. Her husband passed away in November from an AIDS related illness. It was at this time that Emily learned that, after only one year of marriage, she and her son were also infected with HIV. She was left alone to raise her son as well as the two orphans from her husband's first marriage. I met Emily a few days after the burial of her husband; and over these past months, she has become so dear to me. When I look at her, I see a girl with the heavy weight of the world crushing her and stealing all of her dreams. Oh, how I long to see what has been lost restored. Only God can do it. Jesus has entrusted us to be His hands and feet to Emily; and for the sake of love, we will do it with all of our hearts.
I am so grateful for the love of God. He gave me eyes to see beyond Felix's broken and wasted body. I was privileged to hold a child of the King whose worth was beyond measure.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
The Kingdom.
There are moments when it is so clear- things aren’t as they were meant to be. I have had a few of those this week.
I was asked to visit the home of a 17 years old girl with uncontrolled Type 1 Diabetes. She had been seen in a nearby clinic, but the physician was concerned about her home situation and whether she was getting food and the insulin she needed. For the past year, Emily has been blind and completely dependent upon others for her care. Her grandmother was her primary caretaker as both of her parents are struggling with alcoholism, but she recently passed away. After a forty-five minute drive on our bumpy roads, our Tumaini na Afya team arrived to the home.
Immediately I began to hear crying, a cry of brokenness coming from the home. It was Emily. She was alone and was in great pain. She was broken-hearted. Although we had never met before, she began to share her burdens that she was hungry and felt helpless. She said, “if only I could see, I could go and look for food.” In my spirit I believe that God had us arrive at that very moment- allowing us to hear the cries of His child, the cries that He alone has heard and that have broken His heart.
Curious neighbors filled the home, and I saw a 20 year old girl who was mentally disabled crawling on the floor. She was child-like, unable to speak or control her body movements. But she was precious. Emily explained that this girl was her sister and that the little boy standing beside her, who was wearing only a ragged t-shirt, was her sister’s child. I felt my jaw drop as anger and disgust filled me. About this time, Emily’s mother came into the house. She looked tired, deeply burdened. She lifted the little boy and put him to his mother’s breast. She wasn’t able to hold the baby herself. When he was finished eating, someone else lifted him.
We began to pray. There was so much darkness. The family was entangled in poverty, disease, alcoholism, and hunger. Unsure of how to respond but convinced that we must intervene, we prayed and left. Deeply moved, the images I had just seen and the sound of Emily’s cries filled me.
After prayer and further consideration, we decided to bring Emily home. She needs to be fed, treated and loved. One goal is to get her stable enough to go for cataract surgery so that her sight can be restored. Although the situation feels beyond repair, I believe that God will break through this darkness. I desire to see the love of Christ transform this home.
All that is broken will one day be restored. I live in this hope and long for that day; but for now, there is a Kingdom with a King whose mission is to bind up broken hearts. And there is a broken heart named Emily. I ask for you to pray that we would have wisdom in this situation and that deep healing will come. Thank you.
I also wanted to update you that our two little malnourished babies, Flovia and Felix, are doing well.
I was asked to visit the home of a 17 years old girl with uncontrolled Type 1 Diabetes. She had been seen in a nearby clinic, but the physician was concerned about her home situation and whether she was getting food and the insulin she needed. For the past year, Emily has been blind and completely dependent upon others for her care. Her grandmother was her primary caretaker as both of her parents are struggling with alcoholism, but she recently passed away. After a forty-five minute drive on our bumpy roads, our Tumaini na Afya team arrived to the home.
Immediately I began to hear crying, a cry of brokenness coming from the home. It was Emily. She was alone and was in great pain. She was broken-hearted. Although we had never met before, she began to share her burdens that she was hungry and felt helpless. She said, “if only I could see, I could go and look for food.” In my spirit I believe that God had us arrive at that very moment- allowing us to hear the cries of His child, the cries that He alone has heard and that have broken His heart.
Curious neighbors filled the home, and I saw a 20 year old girl who was mentally disabled crawling on the floor. She was child-like, unable to speak or control her body movements. But she was precious. Emily explained that this girl was her sister and that the little boy standing beside her, who was wearing only a ragged t-shirt, was her sister’s child. I felt my jaw drop as anger and disgust filled me. About this time, Emily’s mother came into the house. She looked tired, deeply burdened. She lifted the little boy and put him to his mother’s breast. She wasn’t able to hold the baby herself. When he was finished eating, someone else lifted him.
We began to pray. There was so much darkness. The family was entangled in poverty, disease, alcoholism, and hunger. Unsure of how to respond but convinced that we must intervene, we prayed and left. Deeply moved, the images I had just seen and the sound of Emily’s cries filled me.
After prayer and further consideration, we decided to bring Emily home. She needs to be fed, treated and loved. One goal is to get her stable enough to go for cataract surgery so that her sight can be restored. Although the situation feels beyond repair, I believe that God will break through this darkness. I desire to see the love of Christ transform this home.
All that is broken will one day be restored. I live in this hope and long for that day; but for now, there is a Kingdom with a King whose mission is to bind up broken hearts. And there is a broken heart named Emily. I ask for you to pray that we would have wisdom in this situation and that deep healing will come. Thank you.
I also wanted to update you that our two little malnourished babies, Flovia and Felix, are doing well.
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Love costs.
Love will cause you to be uncomfortable but is always worth what it costs. This truth has become a reoccurring theme throughout my life. This past week, I encountered the uncomfortable part again as I walked away from a couple of heartbreaking home-visits where I met with two of our HIV+ children who were deteriorating quickly from severe malnutrition. I knew something needed to be done, and love would require action. Attempts to provide food and support to the families had been implemented, but the children were failing to grow. Both children were in need of intensive care. As Mother Teresa said, “It is very important for us to realize that love, to be true, has to hurt. I must be willing to give whatever it takes not to harm other people and, in fact, to do good to them. This requires that I be willing to give until it hurts. Otherwise there is no true love in me and I bring injustice, not peace, to those around me”.
The first little boy is named Felix; and although he is one year old, he is the size of a newborn. He weighs a mere 10 lbs. and is unable to lift up his head or sit up. He has big brown eyes that are constantly looking around the room. In November, Felix’s father passed away from complications related to HIV/AIDS leaving his mother as a widow at the age of 18. She is also living with HIV and trying to raise Felix and two orphans from her husband’s first marriage. Needless to say, the situation is full of challenges and Felix is failing to thrive.
The second visit was to that of a little 2 ½ years old girl named Flovia. In December of 2006, Flovia’s single mother died leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. She barely weighs 13 lbs. and is no longer strong enough to walk. She, like Felix, is very developmentally delayed and regressing as time continues. Weak and frustrated, she is irritable much of the time. As I sat outside her mud hut, I saw classic signs indicative of severe malnutrition. I knew that, without immediate action, this child would not survive.
In response to the needs before us, our Tumaini na Afya team, in collaboration with the children’s families, chose to create a temporary shelter for these little ones to get the attention they are desperately needing. We are feeding them every two hours with a special formula.
developed by the World Health Organization and loving them as they so deserve to be loved.
I have just come from playing with Flovia. In the past two years of visiting her home, I have never seen her smile; but tonight, she laughed. I cannot tell you the way it touched my heart. She played peek-a-boo and was blowing kisses. She is feeding well and the swelling in her legs has decreased. She has begun to wave her little hand and say “bye”. Although my mom always used to tell me that I should say “see you later” rather than “good-bye”; for the moment, “bye” has become my favorite word.
The journey ahead for both Felix and Flovia will be long and will call for hard work and love. It costs sleep. It needs patience and commitment. It involves getting dirty. It will undoubtedly require us, at times, to be uncomfortable. But the love, which we have in Christ, will bear all things, hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things. And no matter what may come, it will never fail.
Your prayers for Felix and Flovia, as well as our entire Tumaini na Afya team, are requested and greatly appreciated.
House-to-house HIV testing.
I also wanted to share with you about an exciting and challenging HIV awareness initiative that we are preparing to launch in June. We are partnering with AMPATH, the local HIV treatment center, to do house-to-house HIV testing within our division. Tumaini na Afya will be mobilizing people within villages to receive HIV testing within their homes. The population we are trying to reach nears 120,000. If this project succeeds, AMPATH’s goal is to test 2 million people living in Western Kenya in the next two years. Again, I request your prayers. There are many battles to be fought and won.
The first little boy is named Felix; and although he is one year old, he is the size of a newborn. He weighs a mere 10 lbs. and is unable to lift up his head or sit up. He has big brown eyes that are constantly looking around the room. In November, Felix’s father passed away from complications related to HIV/AIDS leaving his mother as a widow at the age of 18. She is also living with HIV and trying to raise Felix and two orphans from her husband’s first marriage. Needless to say, the situation is full of challenges and Felix is failing to thrive.
The second visit was to that of a little 2 ½ years old girl named Flovia. In December of 2006, Flovia’s single mother died leaving her to be raised by her grandmother. She barely weighs 13 lbs. and is no longer strong enough to walk. She, like Felix, is very developmentally delayed and regressing as time continues. Weak and frustrated, she is irritable much of the time. As I sat outside her mud hut, I saw classic signs indicative of severe malnutrition. I knew that, without immediate action, this child would not survive.
In response to the needs before us, our Tumaini na Afya team, in collaboration with the children’s families, chose to create a temporary shelter for these little ones to get the attention they are desperately needing. We are feeding them every two hours with a special formula.
developed by the World Health Organization and loving them as they so deserve to be loved.
I have just come from playing with Flovia. In the past two years of visiting her home, I have never seen her smile; but tonight, she laughed. I cannot tell you the way it touched my heart. She played peek-a-boo and was blowing kisses. She is feeding well and the swelling in her legs has decreased. She has begun to wave her little hand and say “bye”. Although my mom always used to tell me that I should say “see you later” rather than “good-bye”; for the moment, “bye” has become my favorite word.
The journey ahead for both Felix and Flovia will be long and will call for hard work and love. It costs sleep. It needs patience and commitment. It involves getting dirty. It will undoubtedly require us, at times, to be uncomfortable. But the love, which we have in Christ, will bear all things, hope all things, believe all things, and endure all things. And no matter what may come, it will never fail.
Your prayers for Felix and Flovia, as well as our entire Tumaini na Afya team, are requested and greatly appreciated.
House-to-house HIV testing.
I also wanted to share with you about an exciting and challenging HIV awareness initiative that we are preparing to launch in June. We are partnering with AMPATH, the local HIV treatment center, to do house-to-house HIV testing within our division. Tumaini na Afya will be mobilizing people within villages to receive HIV testing within their homes. The population we are trying to reach nears 120,000. If this project succeeds, AMPATH’s goal is to test 2 million people living in Western Kenya in the next two years. Again, I request your prayers. There are many battles to be fought and won.
Friday, April 04, 2008
The divide.
This morning I walked the simple paths of this village. I visited the homes of two single mothers – one, I had never met before while the other is a dear friend of mine. These women’s life experiences are not so different from one another, but I was struck by the huge divide in which they live. Their houses are both comprised of the same mud and sticks. Each would, by anyone’s standards, be considered financially poor. They both have their own story of disappointment and rejection by their families. With all of these similarities, the difference between them is like night and day. You see, one has hope.
To reach the first home, I walked through corn fields and crossed the river by balancing across a log bridge. I met a young 27 year old mother of five daughters who, simply put, is struggling to survive. ELI was introduced to this mama when she brought her four year old daughter to our clinic. The child was on the verge of starvation. Even several weeks after intense treatment, her protruding abdomen and stick thin extremities tell of her malnourishment. Even more than her physical condition, I was broken by her blank stare. God only knows all that this little one has faced, but she has completely withdrawn. Two of the other little girls, under the age of five, also had evidence of severe malnutrition. As I sat in this little mud hut, I looked at the sparse grass on the roof and wondered how this mama and her little ones stay dry when it rains and how they sleep with mosquitoes buzzing by their heads. I wondered what this mama’s motivation is to wake up each morning. The truth is, she explained, that when she brought her dying child to the clinic she had lost all hope. In this incredibly difficult situation, I am thankful to be a part of this ELI ministry team that seeks to put compassion into action and that does not sit back when confronted with the suffering of God’s children.
The second home, in contrast, was like a breath of fresh air. A lady, who once was a prostitute and is currently living with HIV/AIDS, glowed as she welcomed me to her home. Her physical struggles are present, but she has a friendship with God that is extravagant. She shared about the ways God is teaching her that He is great. She repeated it over and again: Our God is great. As I listened, it was not like she was trying to convince herself or impress me. She said she had been reading stories in the Bible about God showing up to fight for His people. She explained that countless times He has been her help. As she spoke, I was reminded of the scandalous story in the Bible when the prostitute came to Jesus. She was broken and weeping, but she came and worshipped at the feet of Jesus with her tears and a costly bottle of fragrant oil. After much criticism, Jesus replied to the accusers: “You gave me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in . . . Therefore, I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little. Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’” (Luke 7:45-48). My friend, who walks in the freedom of forgiveness, has learned to love much.
To reach the first home, I walked through corn fields and crossed the river by balancing across a log bridge. I met a young 27 year old mother of five daughters who, simply put, is struggling to survive. ELI was introduced to this mama when she brought her four year old daughter to our clinic. The child was on the verge of starvation. Even several weeks after intense treatment, her protruding abdomen and stick thin extremities tell of her malnourishment. Even more than her physical condition, I was broken by her blank stare. God only knows all that this little one has faced, but she has completely withdrawn. Two of the other little girls, under the age of five, also had evidence of severe malnutrition. As I sat in this little mud hut, I looked at the sparse grass on the roof and wondered how this mama and her little ones stay dry when it rains and how they sleep with mosquitoes buzzing by their heads. I wondered what this mama’s motivation is to wake up each morning. The truth is, she explained, that when she brought her dying child to the clinic she had lost all hope. In this incredibly difficult situation, I am thankful to be a part of this ELI ministry team that seeks to put compassion into action and that does not sit back when confronted with the suffering of God’s children.
The second home, in contrast, was like a breath of fresh air. A lady, who once was a prostitute and is currently living with HIV/AIDS, glowed as she welcomed me to her home. Her physical struggles are present, but she has a friendship with God that is extravagant. She shared about the ways God is teaching her that He is great. She repeated it over and again: Our God is great. As I listened, it was not like she was trying to convince herself or impress me. She said she had been reading stories in the Bible about God showing up to fight for His people. She explained that countless times He has been her help. As she spoke, I was reminded of the scandalous story in the Bible when the prostitute came to Jesus. She was broken and weeping, but she came and worshipped at the feet of Jesus with her tears and a costly bottle of fragrant oil. After much criticism, Jesus replied to the accusers: “You gave me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in . . . Therefore, I say to you, her sins, which are many, are forgiven, for she loved much. But to whom little is forgiven, the same loves little. Then he said to her, ‘Your sins are forgiven.’” (Luke 7:45-48). My friend, who walks in the freedom of forgiveness, has learned to love much.
Friday, March 21, 2008
Easter
“Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” These are the
words Jesus spoke to his friends as he prepared to go to the cross. The
most grueling and terrifying death imaginable awaited him, but he
sought to comfort his followers. He wanted to reassure them that he
was not leaving them as orphans. Although they did not understand, he
spoke of a Comforter who would be sent and of a peace, unlike the
world gives, that would be available to them. Oh, how he loved them.
This week, as we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for each of us, I
had the opportunity to break away from normal life in the village to rest
in the Kakamega rainforest. I took time to reflect upon these past few
months of life and to debrief and relax with dear friends. There has
been great loss and disappointment. But there has also been evidence
of God’s faithfulness. Calm has returned, and we continue to pray for
deep peace.
On Wednesday morning, I sat in the middle of the forest and watched
the monkeys play and listened to the birds sing. Thoughts raced
through my head, and my heart felt troubled. Surrounded by the giant
trees, I felt small. I needed to hear these gentle words: “Let not your
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” As I did, I felt release. I was
quieted. I chose to let go of the many things I cannot control and to
trust the loving‐kindness of Jesus.
May the words of Jesus confront and quiet you with his love.
words Jesus spoke to his friends as he prepared to go to the cross. The
most grueling and terrifying death imaginable awaited him, but he
sought to comfort his followers. He wanted to reassure them that he
was not leaving them as orphans. Although they did not understand, he
spoke of a Comforter who would be sent and of a peace, unlike the
world gives, that would be available to them. Oh, how he loved them.
This week, as we remember the sacrifice Jesus made for each of us, I
had the opportunity to break away from normal life in the village to rest
in the Kakamega rainforest. I took time to reflect upon these past few
months of life and to debrief and relax with dear friends. There has
been great loss and disappointment. But there has also been evidence
of God’s faithfulness. Calm has returned, and we continue to pray for
deep peace.
On Wednesday morning, I sat in the middle of the forest and watched
the monkeys play and listened to the birds sing. Thoughts raced
through my head, and my heart felt troubled. Surrounded by the giant
trees, I felt small. I needed to hear these gentle words: “Let not your
heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.” As I did, I felt release. I was
quieted. I chose to let go of the many things I cannot control and to
trust the loving‐kindness of Jesus.
May the words of Jesus confront and quiet you with his love.
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Congo Update
Congo Update.
I returned to Kipkaren on Saturday from my journey to Bukavu, Congo DRC with my heart both broken and encouraged by the paths walked, the faces encountered, and the stories shared. Mudekereza, ELI Congo’s Director, met me at the airport in Kigali, Rwanda to accompany me on a six hour bus ride through winding roads. As we traveled, he shared about his life and family, the wars that have plagued his country for the past decade, and of the dream he has to see the people of his homeland live empowered lives. He apologized for his English (although it was excellent) explaining it was his fifth of five languages spoken. Never the less, from the time we met, it was evident that this man who barely stands five feet in height is a giant in faith, vision, and leadership.
Over the next week, he led me through the slums he calls home. I walked down steep paths to find ELI’s school. It truly was like a bright light in the midst of darkness as 545 children have received the opportunity to go to school to be fed
physically and spiritually. As I arrived at the school, I was welcomed with singing and dancing children. Flower petals of brilliant colors were thrown at my feet as a beautiful expression of their hospitality.
Immediately I was taken to the kitchen where a group of women were preparing porridge for the children. For most, this cup of porridge is their only source of food for the day. It was incredibly humbling to watch hungry kids wait in line
for food, but it was also an honor to be able to serve them. When the little girl, with big brown eyes, said “merci” (thank you) with a sincerity that is impossible to explain, it became a holy moment.
Sunday morning, I piled into a vehicle with seven of Mudekereza’s eight children and drove down the road which has so many pot holes that it basically is ONE LARGE pot hole. We arrived at the church, again at the top of a steep hillside and
trudged down muddy slopes to enter a small brick building sheltered with iron sheets. A humble room was filled with about forty people; and for the next three hours, God’s sweet presence ministered to my tired, broken spirit. Rhythmic
songs with beautiful melodies resonated as they were presented as offerings of praise. Without comprehension, tears filled my eyes. I sat still and was blessed by this group of worshippers. With nothing else to give, they offered their
lives. Again, it was a holy moment.
Over the next few days, I attended meetings, visited HIV clinics and discussed the possibilities of implementing HIV testing and general treatment for the children at ELI’s school as well as the surrounding community.
After waking up twice to strong earthquakes one night, I read the words of
Psalm 46. These words spoke to me, reminding me of God’s power and
compassion all at once. With all the political unrest in Kenya, the past couple
of months have felt like a series of disappointments, scary unknowns, and
constant danger. As the earth moved underneath me, I needed God to remind
me that He is my refuge, that He is present in the midst of all these troubles. I
needed to know that God was in my midst and that he would help me. I
needed to be still and know that He is God. So, I am grateful for His words that
gave me courage to trust Him once more.
I thank God for the opportunity to see the ministry that is taking place in
Bukavu and look forward to returning as God leads.
Loss.
In my last update, I shared about a six year old boy named Elvis who was
suffering from a brain tumor. On Wednesday night, while staying in Nairobi, I
received a call around 10:30 p.m. from Mama Elvis. She had traveled the eight
hour drive to Nairobi with Elvis the previous week for him to receive radiation
therapy at the national hospital in Kenya. She called because Elvis had just
passed away.
Separated from her family, she had no money to pay the hospital bill and no
idea of how to get her son's little body home. It was impossible for her to
grieve as she had to simply survive. When she called me, in a very small way, I
felt the hopelessness of this mother. I asked God to make a way for her.
Thursday morning I met Mama Elvis at the hospital and began the long,
arduous process of getting the hospital bill paid, buying a coffin, hiring a car to
drive them to Eldoret, waiting in five separate lines at the mortuary, and
finally picking this precious little one's body to send him home to be buried. I
do not understand these situations, but I do thank God for His provision and
favor in this difficult situation. I thank God for the privilege to grieve with this
mother (not because I particularly enjoy grieving), but God’s compassion and
mercy filled me when it was needed. Mama Elvis traveled safely to her home
and was able to bury her child properly, with her family beside her to support
her.
Thank you for praying for this mother and family as they mourn their loss. I
am grateful for God’s promise that He will comfort those who mourn.
Kenya Update.
I received the SWEET news on Thursday that an agreement was signed
between President Kibaki and Raila. Rather than having mass action and more
destruction, which had been called for, Kenya received breakthrough. It was
the first step in the right direction; and for it, I am so grateful. When only a
miracle would do, God gave us one. People, all over the country, are now
wishing each other a “Happy New Year.” I pray that God’s peace will fill this
land. Thank you for your continued prayers.
I returned to Kipkaren on Saturday from my journey to Bukavu, Congo DRC with my heart both broken and encouraged by the paths walked, the faces encountered, and the stories shared. Mudekereza, ELI Congo’s Director, met me at the airport in Kigali, Rwanda to accompany me on a six hour bus ride through winding roads. As we traveled, he shared about his life and family, the wars that have plagued his country for the past decade, and of the dream he has to see the people of his homeland live empowered lives. He apologized for his English (although it was excellent) explaining it was his fifth of five languages spoken. Never the less, from the time we met, it was evident that this man who barely stands five feet in height is a giant in faith, vision, and leadership.
Over the next week, he led me through the slums he calls home. I walked down steep paths to find ELI’s school. It truly was like a bright light in the midst of darkness as 545 children have received the opportunity to go to school to be fed
physically and spiritually. As I arrived at the school, I was welcomed with singing and dancing children. Flower petals of brilliant colors were thrown at my feet as a beautiful expression of their hospitality.
Immediately I was taken to the kitchen where a group of women were preparing porridge for the children. For most, this cup of porridge is their only source of food for the day. It was incredibly humbling to watch hungry kids wait in line
for food, but it was also an honor to be able to serve them. When the little girl, with big brown eyes, said “merci” (thank you) with a sincerity that is impossible to explain, it became a holy moment.
Sunday morning, I piled into a vehicle with seven of Mudekereza’s eight children and drove down the road which has so many pot holes that it basically is ONE LARGE pot hole. We arrived at the church, again at the top of a steep hillside and
trudged down muddy slopes to enter a small brick building sheltered with iron sheets. A humble room was filled with about forty people; and for the next three hours, God’s sweet presence ministered to my tired, broken spirit. Rhythmic
songs with beautiful melodies resonated as they were presented as offerings of praise. Without comprehension, tears filled my eyes. I sat still and was blessed by this group of worshippers. With nothing else to give, they offered their
lives. Again, it was a holy moment.
Over the next few days, I attended meetings, visited HIV clinics and discussed the possibilities of implementing HIV testing and general treatment for the children at ELI’s school as well as the surrounding community.
After waking up twice to strong earthquakes one night, I read the words of
Psalm 46. These words spoke to me, reminding me of God’s power and
compassion all at once. With all the political unrest in Kenya, the past couple
of months have felt like a series of disappointments, scary unknowns, and
constant danger. As the earth moved underneath me, I needed God to remind
me that He is my refuge, that He is present in the midst of all these troubles. I
needed to know that God was in my midst and that he would help me. I
needed to be still and know that He is God. So, I am grateful for His words that
gave me courage to trust Him once more.
I thank God for the opportunity to see the ministry that is taking place in
Bukavu and look forward to returning as God leads.
Loss.
In my last update, I shared about a six year old boy named Elvis who was
suffering from a brain tumor. On Wednesday night, while staying in Nairobi, I
received a call around 10:30 p.m. from Mama Elvis. She had traveled the eight
hour drive to Nairobi with Elvis the previous week for him to receive radiation
therapy at the national hospital in Kenya. She called because Elvis had just
passed away.
Separated from her family, she had no money to pay the hospital bill and no
idea of how to get her son's little body home. It was impossible for her to
grieve as she had to simply survive. When she called me, in a very small way, I
felt the hopelessness of this mother. I asked God to make a way for her.
Thursday morning I met Mama Elvis at the hospital and began the long,
arduous process of getting the hospital bill paid, buying a coffin, hiring a car to
drive them to Eldoret, waiting in five separate lines at the mortuary, and
finally picking this precious little one's body to send him home to be buried. I
do not understand these situations, but I do thank God for His provision and
favor in this difficult situation. I thank God for the privilege to grieve with this
mother (not because I particularly enjoy grieving), but God’s compassion and
mercy filled me when it was needed. Mama Elvis traveled safely to her home
and was able to bury her child properly, with her family beside her to support
her.
Thank you for praying for this mother and family as they mourn their loss. I
am grateful for God’s promise that He will comfort those who mourn.
Kenya Update.
I received the SWEET news on Thursday that an agreement was signed
between President Kibaki and Raila. Rather than having mass action and more
destruction, which had been called for, Kenya received breakthrough. It was
the first step in the right direction; and for it, I am so grateful. When only a
miracle would do, God gave us one. People, all over the country, are now
wishing each other a “Happy New Year.” I pray that God’s peace will fill this
land. Thank you for your continued prayers.
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Beauty for Ashes
The Spirit of the Sovereign LORD is on me,
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.
Isaiah 61:1-3
Over the past month, the words beauty instead of ashes, have resonated within my head. Ashes are currently all that can be seen throughout the land of Kenya. The controversial presidential election sparked violent reactions leaving over 1000 people dead and nearly 300,000 internally displaced. There are many contributing factors, but the outcome is ashes. Lives destroyed. Homes burned. Communities destroyed. Neighbors divided. So much has been lost. All who love this land feel this loss deeply. Currently, mediation talks are taking place between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader, Raila. We, in Kipkaren, are praying for a resolution for the political crisis. We are praying for good to over come evil. In hope, we are awaiting the beauty that will be as peace and justice are restored to this land. We believe that, as God’s children, we have a necessary role to play in this Kingdom which shares good news to the poor, binds up broken hearts, proclaims freedom to those who have been in prisons of all kinds, provides for those who grieve… The ashes will be replaced. Please continue to pray for Kenya.
I went to visit my dear friend Betty today. I have been visiting her daily as she undergoes an intensive therapy for the treatment of recurrent TB. Today, I gave her the 36th of 60 shots she is to receive. The process she is undergoing takes perseverance; and yet, in spite of her physical sufferings, her faith continues to be a source of encouragement to me. When I reached her home, I felt overwhelmed by the needs that surround. This past weekend, our team buried one of our clients, and we have felt his loss. A young orphan girl, whose mother had been one of my patients, came this morning requesting fees so that she will be able to attend school. Then I received a phone call that another one of my patients had grown very sick and needed to be taken to the hospital. He is in the painful process of dying of AIDS. Then, I received another call explaining that the CT scan of a little boy named Elvis revealed his brain tumor is back. He is only five years old. His mother does not know how she will afford to go to the specialist in Nairobi. So, by the time I reached Betty’s home, I needed to hear her words: “Mungu anaweza” God is able. I needed to hear her sing, in Swahili, the old hymn that says “The great Physician now is near, the sympathizing Jesus.” She said, “Juli, Jesus is always near.” Her words were refreshing to my heart. I ask for your prayers for our health ministry as we, one life at a time, seek to love with the love of Jesus. May we never grow tired in doing good.
On Friday, I will be traveling to the Congo for one week to attend some meetings pertaining to ELI’s HIV program in the city of Bukavu. I am looking forward to meeting our national team in Congo and visiting ELI’s school in the slum that provides education and food for 600 children. Please pray for God’s peace and protection to cover me as I travel
because the LORD has anointed me
to preach good news to the poor.
He has sent me to bind up the brokenhearted,
to proclaim freedom for the captives
and release from darkness for the prisoners,
to proclaim the year of the LORD's favor
and the day of vengeance of our God,
to comfort all who mourn,
and provide for those who grieve in Zion—
to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair.
They will be called oaks of righteousness,
a planting of the LORD for the display of his splendor.
Isaiah 61:1-3
Over the past month, the words beauty instead of ashes, have resonated within my head. Ashes are currently all that can be seen throughout the land of Kenya. The controversial presidential election sparked violent reactions leaving over 1000 people dead and nearly 300,000 internally displaced. There are many contributing factors, but the outcome is ashes. Lives destroyed. Homes burned. Communities destroyed. Neighbors divided. So much has been lost. All who love this land feel this loss deeply. Currently, mediation talks are taking place between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader, Raila. We, in Kipkaren, are praying for a resolution for the political crisis. We are praying for good to over come evil. In hope, we are awaiting the beauty that will be as peace and justice are restored to this land. We believe that, as God’s children, we have a necessary role to play in this Kingdom which shares good news to the poor, binds up broken hearts, proclaims freedom to those who have been in prisons of all kinds, provides for those who grieve… The ashes will be replaced. Please continue to pray for Kenya.
I went to visit my dear friend Betty today. I have been visiting her daily as she undergoes an intensive therapy for the treatment of recurrent TB. Today, I gave her the 36th of 60 shots she is to receive. The process she is undergoing takes perseverance; and yet, in spite of her physical sufferings, her faith continues to be a source of encouragement to me. When I reached her home, I felt overwhelmed by the needs that surround. This past weekend, our team buried one of our clients, and we have felt his loss. A young orphan girl, whose mother had been one of my patients, came this morning requesting fees so that she will be able to attend school. Then I received a phone call that another one of my patients had grown very sick and needed to be taken to the hospital. He is in the painful process of dying of AIDS. Then, I received another call explaining that the CT scan of a little boy named Elvis revealed his brain tumor is back. He is only five years old. His mother does not know how she will afford to go to the specialist in Nairobi. So, by the time I reached Betty’s home, I needed to hear her words: “Mungu anaweza” God is able. I needed to hear her sing, in Swahili, the old hymn that says “The great Physician now is near, the sympathizing Jesus.” She said, “Juli, Jesus is always near.” Her words were refreshing to my heart. I ask for your prayers for our health ministry as we, one life at a time, seek to love with the love of Jesus. May we never grow tired in doing good.
On Friday, I will be traveling to the Congo for one week to attend some meetings pertaining to ELI’s HIV program in the city of Bukavu. I am looking forward to meeting our national team in Congo and visiting ELI’s school in the slum that provides education and food for 600 children. Please pray for God’s peace and protection to cover me as I travel
Friday, January 25, 2008
Blessings
I cannot express what it means to know that people are standing with me in prayer as Kenya continues to walk this difficult journey of political unrest. For me, the issue I am really praying about is the idea of calm vs. peace. Like so much of the world, Kenya is used to living in calm but not peace. I do not want to simply return to the "calm" where we put up with one another (although it feels much nicer). There are deep issues of hatred between tribes that unless/until they are addressed will continue to resurface. In the midst of this evil, I believe that God is trying to reveal His heart for this place, for His people. There is a deep cleansing that needs to occur. So, we continue to pray. I wanted to share these reflections from an experience I had this past week...
Like so many other Friday’s, I went to the HIV/AIDS clinic this morning to treat patients. Like any other day, people walked to the clinic or were carried on the back of bicycles. They waited in the open air corridors of the clinic to be treated. One man arrived critically ill and desperately needed to be referred to a larger hospital just one hour away; but unlike other days, there was no vehicle to take him. The road towards town contains blockades as the post-election violence continues. So, the possibility of extending treatment or even relief to this dying man seemed impossible. Rachel, the Health Practitioner I was working with, unwilling to give up asked if I would go on a walk with her. I agreed, and we walked a few hundred meters up a large hill to the police station to request them to escort this man to the hospital. As we were walking, a group of women, displaced from their homes, greeted us. They explained that it had really been raining upon them over the past few days, and they asked her for her white lab coat. She responded that she still needed it for work.
I was not prepared for the sights I was about to see. A mere ten miles from my village I entered a refugee camp. As I reached the top of the hill, I was greeted by a lady who I used to eat in her little restaurant. With tears in her eyes, she said: “welcome to our refugee camp.” I looked into the faces of hungry and dirty children. They were playing in the middle of their refuge amongst 20,000 others who had been chased as their homes were burned to the ground. I recognized others I have treated as patients at the HIV clinic. A deep sadness entered my heart. Tears filled my eyes, and I feared if I allowed them to flow they might not ever stop. I talked with a little girl, and she asked me where I was from. I told her that I lived in Kipkaren; and she simply replied, “me too”. The only difference is that her home is no longer. She is struggling, along with 300,000 others who have been displaced within their own homeland, to survive. It is hard to imagine the kind of politics, the tribal hatred that could lead to this injustice.
After arrangements had been made with the police for transporting our patient, we started back down the hill. A little girl, maybe six years old, was carrying water on her head as she climbed the hill. Her name, Upendo (which means love in Kiswahili), struck me. She represents all that we have been called to do as followers of Christ. Overwhelmed by the devastation of this land, I remembered these instructions that say: “Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9).
And then it began to rain. It was not a light, gentle drizzle but a big rain. For a moment, in a small way, I felt their struggles. This may seem obvious; but without a shelter to enter, it is cold and wet when it rains. Without food to eat, hunger is felt. Without peace, there is no rest. As we walked through the rain, Rachel said: “now I know why they needed my coat.” I am convinced, although uncomfortable, there are times we need to know. I recently came across this prayer that has challenged, once again, my view of what it means to be blessed.
May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejections, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them
And to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
To bring justice and kindness to all.
So, I am opening my mouth on behalf of those without a voice. God has shown us what is good and what is required. We are to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. May God lead our hearts to love more fully and to follow Him wherever He leads.
Like so many other Friday’s, I went to the HIV/AIDS clinic this morning to treat patients. Like any other day, people walked to the clinic or were carried on the back of bicycles. They waited in the open air corridors of the clinic to be treated. One man arrived critically ill and desperately needed to be referred to a larger hospital just one hour away; but unlike other days, there was no vehicle to take him. The road towards town contains blockades as the post-election violence continues. So, the possibility of extending treatment or even relief to this dying man seemed impossible. Rachel, the Health Practitioner I was working with, unwilling to give up asked if I would go on a walk with her. I agreed, and we walked a few hundred meters up a large hill to the police station to request them to escort this man to the hospital. As we were walking, a group of women, displaced from their homes, greeted us. They explained that it had really been raining upon them over the past few days, and they asked her for her white lab coat. She responded that she still needed it for work.
I was not prepared for the sights I was about to see. A mere ten miles from my village I entered a refugee camp. As I reached the top of the hill, I was greeted by a lady who I used to eat in her little restaurant. With tears in her eyes, she said: “welcome to our refugee camp.” I looked into the faces of hungry and dirty children. They were playing in the middle of their refuge amongst 20,000 others who had been chased as their homes were burned to the ground. I recognized others I have treated as patients at the HIV clinic. A deep sadness entered my heart. Tears filled my eyes, and I feared if I allowed them to flow they might not ever stop. I talked with a little girl, and she asked me where I was from. I told her that I lived in Kipkaren; and she simply replied, “me too”. The only difference is that her home is no longer. She is struggling, along with 300,000 others who have been displaced within their own homeland, to survive. It is hard to imagine the kind of politics, the tribal hatred that could lead to this injustice.
After arrangements had been made with the police for transporting our patient, we started back down the hill. A little girl, maybe six years old, was carrying water on her head as she climbed the hill. Her name, Upendo (which means love in Kiswahili), struck me. She represents all that we have been called to do as followers of Christ. Overwhelmed by the devastation of this land, I remembered these instructions that say: “Open your mouth for the speechless, in the cause of all who are appointed to die. Open your mouth, judge righteously, and plead the cause of the poor and the needy” (Proverbs 31:8-9).
And then it began to rain. It was not a light, gentle drizzle but a big rain. For a moment, in a small way, I felt their struggles. This may seem obvious; but without a shelter to enter, it is cold and wet when it rains. Without food to eat, hunger is felt. Without peace, there is no rest. As we walked through the rain, Rachel said: “now I know why they needed my coat.” I am convinced, although uncomfortable, there are times we need to know. I recently came across this prayer that has challenged, once again, my view of what it means to be blessed.
May God bless you with discomfort
At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships
So that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with tears
To shed for those who suffer pain, rejections, hunger and war,
So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them
And to turn their pain into joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness
To believe that you can make a difference in the world
So that you can do what others claim cannot be done.
To bring justice and kindness to all.
So, I am opening my mouth on behalf of those without a voice. God has shown us what is good and what is required. We are to do justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with Him. May God lead our hearts to love more fully and to follow Him wherever He leads.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Mountain Climbing
Jacob Kyungai, a mountain guide to Kilimanjaro said: "Kilimanjaro is a place where ordinary people come to do something extraordinary, to leave their lives and stand in a place between heaven and earth, a magical place in the Africa of their dreams." To begin the year, I journeyed to the mountain, to the highest point in Africa. Within a few days, I climbed through the lush rainforest to the moorland to the high desert and peaked to the summit which lies at 19,340 feet. So many times throughout the Bible, people went to the mountains to meet with God. This is what I desired and desperately needed.
On December 27th, Kenya held its presidential election. Inconsistencies in the counting and reporting of the ballots as well as delays in announcing the results left many people unnerved. After several days of waiting, it was announced that the incumbent president was reelected. Many people, especially the youth, had been promised change by the opposition candidate and began to respond violently by looting, burning homes and buildings and even churches. Neighbor began to fight neighbor based on tribal differences and political lines. To this point, nearly 600 people have lost their lives and over 300,000 men, women and children have been displaced from their homes. As I climbed Mt Kilimanjaro, I lifted my eyes to the mountain to where my help comes from. With each step, I prayed for this broken land of Kenya that I love so much. I let go of what I could not control and asked God to intervene.
At midnight, on the fourth day of trekking, I began the ascent to the summit. Already breathless and exhausted at camp, which lies just over fifteen thousand feet, I wondered whether I would make it to the top of this majestic mountain. Along with thirteen others in our group, I journeyed step by step through the darkness and cold. I could only see as far as the step in front of me; and as I prayed, I felt like God was saying: “This is what life is like. You can only see the step in which you are taking, but I can see it all. The path is steep and you feel as if you will fall, but I am walking with you. Even though you are tired, if you will keep taking the next step, you will make it to the mountain top.”
As I consider life and the troubles that are faced within this world, I am grateful for God’s word that settles my heart saying: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you” (Isaiah 43:1-2). After nearly eight hours of simply taking the next step, the sun rose beautifully and I stood on the roof of Africa.
As I climbed the mountain of Kilimanjaro, God was with me. As I sit in my village threatened by hatred and injustice, it feels as if we are climbing another mountain. It is difficult to see one step in front of us, but God is with us. As I stood last night with a friend, she shared about her family’s home being burned to the ground because of the tribe she was born into. Not one material thing remained spared from the ashes, but she said that God had been gracious to her and protected each member of her family from injury. She expressed that God has walked each step with her during this difficult journey. Please continue to pray for this nation that justice and peace will be restored and a deep healing might begin.
ELI has created an emergency fund to address all of the current needs that have surfaced because of the crisis. If you or anyone you know would like to give towards this fund, they can mail a check to our office (PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785) and earmark it for the “Kenya emergency fund.”
Going Home
On December 23rd, my Kenyan family and I filled our ambulance with 18 people full and headed out to visit several of our neighbors in need. We took boxes of food and small gifts to celebrate the birth of Christ together. One of our visits was to the home of my dear friend Hannah. Like so many times before, she was laying outside her house on a blanket. She welcomed us and we sat together and sang the words “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and grief to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.” It is a moment impressed within my heart. Although Hannah’s body had been destroyed by a tumor, her spirit was beautifully alive. Four days later, I returned to her home and learned that she had passed away. She had gone to be with her God that she loved so faithfully. I wrote these lyrics, in honor of my friend. I believe this was Hannah’s song:
In this darkness, I have seen your face.
In my brokenness, I’ve felt your embrace.
Though all fades away, I have found a place.
In the shadowlands, I’m covered by grace.
Thank you Jesus for following me.
All of my life, your tender-mercies.
Have been my hope. They have set me free.
This, my miracle, I’m loved completely.
In this valley, the path is unclear.
I shall not want. I shall not fear.
My cup overflows. Your Presence is near.
What are the whisperings that I do hear?
O Love, is it you? Raise me from the ashes.
O Love, is it you? Healing my disease.
O Love, is it you? Whose covered my shame.
O Love, it is you- Calling me by name.
I’m going home.
CONTACT
On December 27th, Kenya held its presidential election. Inconsistencies in the counting and reporting of the ballots as well as delays in announcing the results left many people unnerved. After several days of waiting, it was announced that the incumbent president was reelected. Many people, especially the youth, had been promised change by the opposition candidate and began to respond violently by looting, burning homes and buildings and even churches. Neighbor began to fight neighbor based on tribal differences and political lines. To this point, nearly 600 people have lost their lives and over 300,000 men, women and children have been displaced from their homes. As I climbed Mt Kilimanjaro, I lifted my eyes to the mountain to where my help comes from. With each step, I prayed for this broken land of Kenya that I love so much. I let go of what I could not control and asked God to intervene.
At midnight, on the fourth day of trekking, I began the ascent to the summit. Already breathless and exhausted at camp, which lies just over fifteen thousand feet, I wondered whether I would make it to the top of this majestic mountain. Along with thirteen others in our group, I journeyed step by step through the darkness and cold. I could only see as far as the step in front of me; and as I prayed, I felt like God was saying: “This is what life is like. You can only see the step in which you are taking, but I can see it all. The path is steep and you feel as if you will fall, but I am walking with you. Even though you are tired, if you will keep taking the next step, you will make it to the mountain top.”
As I consider life and the troubles that are faced within this world, I am grateful for God’s word that settles my heart saying: “Fear not, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by your name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow you. When you walk through the fire, you shall not be burned, nor shall the flame scorch you” (Isaiah 43:1-2). After nearly eight hours of simply taking the next step, the sun rose beautifully and I stood on the roof of Africa.
As I climbed the mountain of Kilimanjaro, God was with me. As I sit in my village threatened by hatred and injustice, it feels as if we are climbing another mountain. It is difficult to see one step in front of us, but God is with us. As I stood last night with a friend, she shared about her family’s home being burned to the ground because of the tribe she was born into. Not one material thing remained spared from the ashes, but she said that God had been gracious to her and protected each member of her family from injury. She expressed that God has walked each step with her during this difficult journey. Please continue to pray for this nation that justice and peace will be restored and a deep healing might begin.
ELI has created an emergency fund to address all of the current needs that have surfaced because of the crisis. If you or anyone you know would like to give towards this fund, they can mail a check to our office (PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785) and earmark it for the “Kenya emergency fund.”
Going Home
On December 23rd, my Kenyan family and I filled our ambulance with 18 people full and headed out to visit several of our neighbors in need. We took boxes of food and small gifts to celebrate the birth of Christ together. One of our visits was to the home of my dear friend Hannah. Like so many times before, she was laying outside her house on a blanket. She welcomed us and we sat together and sang the words “What a friend we have in Jesus, all our sins and grief to bear. What a privilege to carry everything to God in prayer.” It is a moment impressed within my heart. Although Hannah’s body had been destroyed by a tumor, her spirit was beautifully alive. Four days later, I returned to her home and learned that she had passed away. She had gone to be with her God that she loved so faithfully. I wrote these lyrics, in honor of my friend. I believe this was Hannah’s song:
In this darkness, I have seen your face.
In my brokenness, I’ve felt your embrace.
Though all fades away, I have found a place.
In the shadowlands, I’m covered by grace.
Thank you Jesus for following me.
All of my life, your tender-mercies.
Have been my hope. They have set me free.
This, my miracle, I’m loved completely.
In this valley, the path is unclear.
I shall not want. I shall not fear.
My cup overflows. Your Presence is near.
What are the whisperings that I do hear?
O Love, is it you? Raise me from the ashes.
O Love, is it you? Healing my disease.
O Love, is it you? Whose covered my shame.
O Love, it is you- Calling me by name.
I’m going home.
CONTACT
Thursday, January 10, 2008
Kenya Unrest
I am not sure how many of you received the following email update I sent a few days back... I have received many emails expressing concern over all that is taking place in Kenya right now. I want to say thank you for your much needed prayers and for your willingness to assist in this humanitarian crisis.
I returned to Kipkaren yesterday in the afternoon. It is good to be back home with my Kenyan family. We are trusting God for peace to return to this land. I ask that you continue to pray in the following ways:
- The President of Ghana is currently leading mediations between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader Raila Odinga. Pray for resolution that will be just and the best solution for the people of Kenya.
- The Church of Kenya will stand united- fighting for justice, loving mercy, walking humbly with God.
- Parliament, which is largely divided, is set to open on this coming Tuesday. Please pray for peace.
- There is much healing and reconciliation that needs to occur within communities. Only God can break down the divides between tribes.
- Thousands of families have been displaced. Please pray for safety as they seek refuge until the government decides what to do next. Major relief is needed in the forms of food, medications, blankets, etc.
- Schools are scheduled to re-open on January 15th. Please pray for the safety of these children as they return to school. In addition, please pray for the thousands of displaced children who will not be able to return to school.
- Please pray for continued safety of our 182 children in the children's homes in Kipkaren and Ilula as well as the staff who will be returning to the training centers.
-For those who are HIV+ and displaced, please pray that they will be able to continue with their antiretrovirals, that drug resistance will not develop and that they will be able to get proper nutrition.
Again, I thank you for standing with Kenya in this difficult season. ELI has created an emergency fund to address all of the current needs that have surfaced because of the crisis. If you or anyone you know would like to give towards this fund, they can mail a check to our office (PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785) and earmark it for the “Kenya emergency fund.”
If you are interested in reading more, I have attached an article from the New York Times that was written by a Kenyan. I think it explains some of the complexities of the situation well.
With much love, Juli
No Country for Old Hatreds
By BINYAVANGA WAINAINA
Published: January 6, 2008
Nairobi, Kenya
THIS thing called Kenya is a strange animal. In the 1960s, the bright young nationalists who took over the country when we got independence from the British believed that their first job was to eradicate “tribalism.” What they really meant, in a way, was that they wanted to eradicate the nations that made up Kenya. It was assumed that the process would end with the birth of a brand-new being: the Kenyan.
Compared with other African nations, Kenya has had significant success with this experiment. But it has not been without its contradictions, though they had never really turned lethal until now.
Our Kenyan identity, so deliberately formed in the test tube of nationalist effort, has over the years been undermined, subtly and not so subtly, by our leaders — men who appealed to our histories and loyalties to win our votes.
You see, the burning houses and the bloody attacks here do not reflect primordial hatreds. They reflect the manipulation of identity for political gain.
So what was different about this election? What brought Kenya’s equilibrium to an end?
Five years ago, we voted for a broad and nationally representative government. Inside this vehicle were the country’s major tribes: the Luo, the Luhya, the Kikuyu, many Kalenjin — all the people now killing one another.
We wanted this arrangement to quickly introduce a new and more inclusive Constitution, deal firmly with corruption and start a process of defining the nation in terms that include everybody.
Tragically, President Mwai Kibaki instead steered a course away from the coalition and cultivated the support of his Kikuyu community. He did a good job rebuilding the civil service and managing the economy, but he did it within a framework that was not sustainable.
When it came time to conduct our most recent election, Raila Odinga had built a movement on the back of President Kibaki’s betrayal of the spirit of 2002. His political party, the Orange Democratic Movement, was the big ethnic tent similar to the one that had first brought President Kibaki to office.
On the day we cast our vote, we thought that our optimism and desire for an inclusive and broad government would prevail. Instead, three days later — after reports that votes were being “cooked” in Kikuyu strongholds, after skirmishes in the room where the results were being announced, after the news media were ejected — Mr. Kibaki was announced the winner and a haphazard swearing-in took place. And Kenya exploded.
Mr. Odinga and President Kibaki are not really ethnic leaders, but in the days since the disputed election they have stoked tribal paranoia and used it to cement electoral loyalty.
Mr. Odinga and his fellow party leaders are now determined to avenge the wrong they believe they have suffered. Sadly, this leadership now appears to believe that the violence spreading across the country might be a valuable bargaining chip.
My further suspicion is that Mr. Odinga wants to sell to Kenyans and the world a sort of Ukrainian “people’s revolution” — where protesters take to the streets and change the order of things, and are seen to be throwing happy pink petals on television, so America can say, ah, the people have spoken.
But rather than matters leading to a popular but peaceful uprising against a flawed election, we are likelier to suffer an escalation of retaliations and a descent to that special machete place that nations rarely recover from.
Yet all is not lost. Nations are built on crises like this. If there is such a thing as Kenya, it should be gathering energy right now. Two leaders can sit down, form a power-sharing agreement and put together a system to handle elections and transition. A Constitution that names and recognizes the tribal nations within our nation, that decentralizes some power and that includes us all in the process is possible.
For 40 years we have been dancing around each other, a gaseous nation circling and tightening. The moment is now to make a solid thing called Kenya.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/06/opinion/06wainaina.html?ex=1200286800&en=d44006ed2ffc41e5&ei=5070&emc=eta1
I returned to Kipkaren yesterday in the afternoon. It is good to be back home with my Kenyan family. We are trusting God for peace to return to this land. I ask that you continue to pray in the following ways:
- The President of Ghana is currently leading mediations between President Kibaki and the Opposition leader Raila Odinga. Pray for resolution that will be just and the best solution for the people of Kenya.
- The Church of Kenya will stand united- fighting for justice, loving mercy, walking humbly with God.
- Parliament, which is largely divided, is set to open on this coming Tuesday. Please pray for peace.
- There is much healing and reconciliation that needs to occur within communities. Only God can break down the divides between tribes.
- Thousands of families have been displaced. Please pray for safety as they seek refuge until the government decides what to do next. Major relief is needed in the forms of food, medications, blankets, etc.
- Schools are scheduled to re-open on January 15th. Please pray for the safety of these children as they return to school. In addition, please pray for the thousands of displaced children who will not be able to return to school.
- Please pray for continued safety of our 182 children in the children's homes in Kipkaren and Ilula as well as the staff who will be returning to the training centers.
-For those who are HIV+ and displaced, please pray that they will be able to continue with their antiretrovirals, that drug resistance will not develop and that they will be able to get proper nutrition.
Again, I thank you for standing with Kenya in this difficult season. ELI has created an emergency fund to address all of the current needs that have surfaced because of the crisis. If you or anyone you know would like to give towards this fund, they can mail a check to our office (PO Box 67 Upland, CA 91785) and earmark it for the “Kenya emergency fund.”
If you are interested in reading more, I have attached an article from the New York Times that was written by a Kenyan. I think it explains some of the complexities of the situation well.
With much love, Juli
No Country for Old Hatreds
By BINYAVANGA WAINAINA
Published: January 6, 2008
Nairobi, Kenya
THIS thing called Kenya is a strange animal. In the 1960s, the bright young nationalists who took over the country when we got independence from the British believed that their first job was to eradicate “tribalism.” What they really meant, in a way, was that they wanted to eradicate the nations that made up Kenya. It was assumed that the process would end with the birth of a brand-new being: the Kenyan.
Compared with other African nations, Kenya has had significant success with this experiment. But it has not been without its contradictions, though they had never really turned lethal until now.
Our Kenyan identity, so deliberately formed in the test tube of nationalist effort, has over the years been undermined, subtly and not so subtly, by our leaders — men who appealed to our histories and loyalties to win our votes.
You see, the burning houses and the bloody attacks here do not reflect primordial hatreds. They reflect the manipulation of identity for political gain.
So what was different about this election? What brought Kenya’s equilibrium to an end?
Five years ago, we voted for a broad and nationally representative government. Inside this vehicle were the country’s major tribes: the Luo, the Luhya, the Kikuyu, many Kalenjin — all the people now killing one another.
We wanted this arrangement to quickly introduce a new and more inclusive Constitution, deal firmly with corruption and start a process of defining the nation in terms that include everybody.
Tragically, President Mwai Kibaki instead steered a course away from the coalition and cultivated the support of his Kikuyu community. He did a good job rebuilding the civil service and managing the economy, but he did it within a framework that was not sustainable.
When it came time to conduct our most recent election, Raila Odinga had built a movement on the back of President Kibaki’s betrayal of the spirit of 2002. His political party, the Orange Democratic Movement, was the big ethnic tent similar to the one that had first brought President Kibaki to office.
On the day we cast our vote, we thought that our optimism and desire for an inclusive and broad government would prevail. Instead, three days later — after reports that votes were being “cooked” in Kikuyu strongholds, after skirmishes in the room where the results were being announced, after the news media were ejected — Mr. Kibaki was announced the winner and a haphazard swearing-in took place. And Kenya exploded.
Mr. Odinga and President Kibaki are not really ethnic leaders, but in the days since the disputed election they have stoked tribal paranoia and used it to cement electoral loyalty.
Mr. Odinga and his fellow party leaders are now determined to avenge the wrong they believe they have suffered. Sadly, this leadership now appears to believe that the violence spreading across the country might be a valuable bargaining chip.
My further suspicion is that Mr. Odinga wants to sell to Kenyans and the world a sort of Ukrainian “people’s revolution” — where protesters take to the streets and change the order of things, and are seen to be throwing happy pink petals on television, so America can say, ah, the people have spoken.
But rather than matters leading to a popular but peaceful uprising against a flawed election, we are likelier to suffer an escalation of retaliations and a descent to that special machete place that nations rarely recover from.
Yet all is not lost. Nations are built on crises like this. If there is such a thing as Kenya, it should be gathering energy right now. Two leaders can sit down, form a power-sharing agreement and put together a system to handle elections and transition. A Constitution that names and recognizes the tribal nations within our nation, that decentralizes some power and that includes us all in the process is possible.
For 40 years we have been dancing around each other, a gaseous nation circling and tightening. The moment is now to make a solid thing called Kenya.
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/01/06/opinion/06wainaina.html?ex=1200286800&en=d44006ed2ffc41e5&ei=5070&emc=eta1
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