A Real Celebration

Our trip is beginning to wind down, and as it does, our days are slowing a bit and it's no longer necessary for us to try to squeeze so much into every moment. The result is many moments to enjoy throughout the day, and we're able to be fully "in" each moment as it happens... Sounds like it may be a better way to live all of life!

The big project for today was a washing and fueling of Steve's airplane for his trip to Bongolo tomorrow to pick up the dental team. Of course, that needed to include a 30 minute "maintenance" flight, just be sure everything was working correctly! After scrubbing every inch of the plane and helping Steve hand pump lots of fuel into the tanks, the six of us piled into the plane with excitement. A few very official sounding conversations and approvals over the headset to the Libreville tower, and we were off!

We fly up the coast, spanning basically the entire length of Libreville, and for the first time we were able to get an appreciation for the size of this city. We've seen the story of the city told in faces and in homes and in stores and in families—now we were able to see that each of those stories could be multiplied by literally hundreds of thousands all across the city.

The flight was about 30 minutes of great fun as we got to see Steve totally in his element, as well as see the city from above. After a perfect landing, we shut everything down and grabbed a quick lunch.

I had been thinking about how to make Tia’s birthday a special one for her. Of course, it’s incredible to be on this trip, but her birthday itself was a 16 hour car ride during which she only got to pee once, and that’s no one’s idea of a good time, no matter what country you’re in! We decided what would be a ton of fun would be to share Tia’s birthday celebration with the kids from the Hope House.

Adoptions are very rare and somewhat complicated in Gabon, so “orphans” rarely find homes within traditional families. Even the term “orphan” itself is complex here—sometimes these are children without parents, but often, they are simply kids whose parents didn’t want them or else felt they couldn’t afford them. The most heartbreaking stories (among many heartbreaking stories) are when moms and/or dads decide that they’ll keep 2 or 3 children, but choose to send 1 or 2 others away.

The “Hope House” is a home that was started by a Libreville pastor and his wife (Pastor Israel and Mama Natalie) in order to care for these children. They began by simply taking a few children into their home and caring for them. “A few” soon became a relative term—they now have 46 children ranging from age 3 to 18 living with them. They live simply, they work together in order to survive, but unlike many orphans, they are able to actually have a childhood. Each one of them is a child that in some way has felt the loss of a family—but through the Hope House, they now have a family. A big one.

So we loaded up with 14 liters of ice cream, plastic containers and spoons, and headed out to the Hope House. Normally when we arrive, they are running around the property and it’s a bit chaotic. This time as we pulled in, it was quiet—almost like no one was there. However, as we looked in the large front door, we saw them all sitting at desks, waiting… We came in, and no one moved except for Tia’s 3 year old friend Glorie, who couldn’t help but run over to Tia and jump into her arms. Clearly these were children that had been prepped and were on their best behavior so as not to forfeit a rare treat!

Basic food can sometimes be difficult to come by at the Hope House. While a few local churches work with Pastor Israel and Mama Natalie to help staff the kitchen and provide basic foods, 50 mouths are a lot to feed. Fruits and vegetables are extremely expensive in Gabon, so those are almost nonexistent at the Hope House. They get rice, a bit of meat, yogurt, and few other inexpensive foods. While they rarely go hungry, it’s not an exciting or balanced diet. All that said, sweets and party foods are extremely rare at the Hope House, and none of them were about to forfeit their ice cream because of bad behavior!

I could tell you so much more about all that happened there—every time we are with them, there are incredible blessings for us. Pastor Mario and I scooped ice cream into dishes, being sure that everyone got some. Older kids handed it out, beginning with the youngest kids all the way through the adults before taking their own. We all ate together, and Pastor Steve reminded them that Dr. Paul had given them each a toothbrush and toothpaste, and they were supposed to brush their teeth when they were finished!

After we had cleaned up quickly, they wanted to sing for Tia’s birthday. And sing they did, four different songs, including Happy Birthday in English! After the singing, a joyous dance party broke out, and we were treated to some incredible choreography! It was truly a birthday party to remember.

As they sang and danced, I watched the faces of the Hope House children. In many ways, according to every both tangible and intangible standard given by the world around them, they have nothing. But when I look closely at their eyes, I see something remarkable.

It seems that in every way that really matters, they actually have everything.

Kairos vs. Chronos

Aaaahhhh……

That was how today felt. After some stress-filled and very busy days, we relaxed a bit today. We got up late, had a nice mid-morning breakfast, caught up on some emails and blog posts, and just relaxed. Our only real commitment was a 2:00pm meeting at the Gabonese National Office for the Christian & Missionary Alliance, and we made the most of the rest of the day.

Time is a funny thing. The last several days have been so incredibly packed full that even the 16-hour car rides seemed to fly by. When things are busy, time hurdles along like a runaway train (or a Gabonese bus driver). But when life slows down, time seems to do the same thing. The morning seemed to open up before us, and suddenly there was time: to read, to eat, to talk, to get a few things done… and to rest. So we did.

We arrived to the National Offices a little after 2:00, and had a grand reunion with Pastor Guy Roget. After joyful greetings all around and a brief tour, we headed into a conference room, and were soon joined by several other members of the National Office staff. I won’t bore you with the details of our hour long meeting, but it was very good and gave us a great path to walk on as we dream about our future connection with the Gabonese church in Equatorial Guinea.

The key thing that we found out at the meeting is that the Gabonese church is much further down the path than we are when it comes to the work in EG. The way Steve put it as he translated my words to the National Office team is that if the work in EG is like a book, they are on chapter 3 or 4, and we’re just a few paragraphs into the Introduction. While I assured them that we are fast readers, it will still take us a little while to catch up. They understood this reality, and are charging forward on their own, while we determine exactly what our role in EG will look like.

It wasn’t until after the meeting that I realized God’s incredible timing. We had initially scheduled this trip in the fall of 2010. In fact, a significant amount of planning had happened and we were just about to buy tickets when we found out that the missionary couple that we would be working with had some difficulties and the trip couldn’t happen. At that moment, we were so discouraged and disappointed that the trip couldn’t go forward. However, had that trip happened, we would have been on exactly the same chapter in the metaphorical book—and based on the way our two cultures operate, it’s likely that we would have already read a few pages ahead! Based on what we know now about the work in EG and the need for Gabonese church to take the lead in this initiative, that would have been disastrous. But with this timing, everything is exactly right, and we all walked out of the conference room greatly encouraged.

We walked of the room and immediately turned to our left, into the “Chapel of Prayer for the Nations” so that we could dedicate this work to the Lord in prayer as a group. As we did, thunder was beginning to rumble in the distance, and the sky was quickly darkening. We stood in that chapel, held hands in a circle, and began to lift our voices to God, all at the same time. Our voices died down, and after a brief song, one of the National Office leaders began to pray. Almost as soon as he started to pray, the rain started. It was only a little at first. But as his voice picked up in intensity, almost as if choreographed, the rain did as well. The storm rolled in with power, and soon, the National Secretary was shouting his prayer over the thunder and the pounding rain on the metal roof. He declared “Amen” and we all began to sing “Hallelujah.” And as we did, it was as though God Himself was declaring “YES! I’m for this!”, with the mighty voice of the storm thundering over our loudest singing. Once again, perfect timing.

One of the things that we lose in our English translations of the Bible is that there are two different Greek words for “time.” Chronos time is clock time. It’s the normal way that we see time. It’s objective. It’s predictable. It’s minutes, hours, days, schedules, and agendas. On the other hand, Kairos time is totally different. Kairos is the “right” time. The “opportune” time. As our great friends Todd and Belinda often remind us, kairos time is God’s time.

Today, we operated in kairos time. The rest we got, the discussions we had, the incredible African thunderstorm we witnessed… all of them hit at just the right time. However, what we hadn’t realized is that every detail of this project has been caught up in kairos time. The delay of 18 months ago. Postponing the trip for two days due to visa issues. The connections with Pastor Frederico’s church. The events of today. Each one at just the right time.

Now, we must walk forward in the same way. Not rushing ahead, not lagging behind, but waiting on God. His kairos time is perfect.

The Church

Our team with Pastor Frederico and some of his family

“You cannot care for Me, with no regard for her / If you love Me, you will love the Church.” With this poignant line, singer Derek Webb ends his first solo album. The album is “She Must and Shall Go Free” and the song is titled simply “The Church”—and every time I’m traveling overseas and visit a local church body, I experience this truth in a new way.

After a solid night’s sleep and a decent breakfast, we all felt a new perspective on life in EG. Daylight helped as well. (Did I mention that when we got into the guesthouse we were staying at in Bata, there was no electric? That’s great fun at nearly midnight in the Developing World during rainy season…) We headed to meet Pastor Frederico. We pulled up, greeted him, and were invited into his living room to sit down. After a bit he came in and we talked about his church, the land down the street on which they hoped to someday build, and his personal journey as a pastor.

Soon, it was time for the church gathering. We went in and sat down in a predictably steamy, open-air patio off the back of Pastor Frederico’s house. It was certainly nothing exciting—about 30 chairs, a makeshift altar (coffee table covered with a sheet) and a podium inside of which the family’s cat was sleeping. With our delegation, the place was full, but certainly not overflowing. However, it was certainly the church: an elderly couple to my left, a few somewhat large, colorful and joyous women in front of me, a young single man in his 20’s behind me, a few teens with attitudes in the back, and some children wandering around behind the chairs. Sounds like church to me.

The clear indication that it was time for the service to start: one of the colorful women in the front rose, started to shake a kind of maraca and sing in Fang, the tribal tongue spoken by about 80% of Equatorial Guineans. The rest of the church rose immediately after her, and it was on. This tiny group (our delegation, of course, didn’t know the song) sang so loudly that I felt like the tin roof above us might be in trouble. As they did, all who were participating in the service paraded through the center: Pastor Frederico, his assistant Oscar, Pastor Mario, who was preaching that morning, Pastor Guy Roget from Gabon, and our very own Steve Straw. Pastor Frederico spoke a bit, they sang some more, some introductions, more singing, Pastor Mario preaching a killer sermon complete with translation into Fang, and then a few closing prayers and an offering. Sounds like church to me.

We then moved from the back of the house to the front porch, and a majority of those present that morning also made up the “leadership team” that met over cold beverages. We talked about church politics, buildings, organizational structures, and when pressed, got back to values, prayer, and the transformation of people’s hearts. There were some tense moments; there was loud laughter and even some applause following one particularly spirited comment/speech. Our time ended with Pastor Mario and I praying blessing and anointing over Pastor Frederico and Pastor Simone, who is starting a church in Malabo, the political capital of EG. Definitely sounds like the church to me.

As I was walking of the front porch, the woman from the elderly couple in the church grabbed my hand. Her hand was shaking as she held mine over the stone railing which separated us. She spoke a few words that I would have had difficulty understanding had they been in English—that they were spoken in Fang made them clearly impossible. The young man beside me told me that she only speaks Fang, and since he didn’t, he couldn’t interpret.

It was then the magic happened. She looked at me, one eye seemingly clouded with a cataract, and this woman who was likely well into her 80’s began to sing over me. Of course I have absolutely no idea what she sang, but it was beautiful. Her voice rasped a bit, but her words seemed to shoot directly to heaven. For the next two or three minutes, she just looked in my eyes and sang.

I was once told that the word “Hallelujah” is the only word that is the same in every language on earth. I don’t know if that’s true, but it’s the same in Fang as it is in English. That was how her song ended: with a string of “Hallelujahs” that shot straight over my head to the ear of her Savior.

To anyone else, it would look exceedingly odd. Here’s a very old African woman grabbing the hands of bald, sweaty white man and singing to him. Unless you’re on a stage performing “The Sound of Music”, that’s just a bit weird. (As though the “Sound of Music” isn’t.) But it was incredible. My spirit soared with her words as she sang them. That is most certainly the church.

Later that night, we had the opportunity to pray over this woman. It was explained to us that she was very ill and dying, and she told us that although God hadn’t healed her yet, she’d like us to pray that He would. Then she told us that she had peace, that everything that needed to happen had happened, she was old, and that she was ready to die and be with Jesus if this was the time. I, for one, was not at all surprised. We prayed God’s mercy and healing over her, and when we were finished, she spoke two phrases through the translator: “As you prayed, I felt a strange warmth inside of me.” And then: “That’s why I need a drink of water.” And she waited for us to oblige.

The Church. It’s sometimes odd, always broken, often hypocritical, a bit dysfunctional… and beautiful. The radiant bride of Christ, in all of its mess. I’m still not sure exactly how we’ll be connected to the work in Equatorial Guinea, but I do know that the Church is here.

And I was thrilled to meet her.

1, 2, 3... Wait! No, GO!

By now many have been following the saga of Pastor Mario’s visa application in to Equatorial Guinea. After yesterday’s drama, we left this morning with confidence. So much so, in fact, that we said our good-byes to the other half of the team, which would be traveling to the Bongolo Hospital in the southern part of the country on Saturday morning, packed the SUV, and headed to the embassy for that illusive visa so that we could commence our journey.

We arrived at 9:00, a bit earlier than the promised 10:00, but Steve is ever the optimist. The gentleman from yesterday followed us into the entrance, greeted us kindly, and then disappeared behind the curtain. About that time, a man in the corner that acts as a sort of secretary for the waiting area informed Mario that he wasn’t allowed to enter the embassy wearing shorts. That should have been a sign to us, but hey, we’re a bit dense. So we waited—four of us inside, and Mario on the steps outside. About 45 minutes into the wait, Mario finally decided to find his suitcase, pull out some jeans, and change. Don’t ask me how or where he did that… honestly, I don’t want to know. Either way, moments later Mario entered with jeans on, got a word of affirmation from the man in the corner, and took his position on the seat next to Steve.

And we waited.

10:00 went by. Then 10:30. By 10:45, Steve had already asked several times. Then 11:30. Then 12:00. Finally, around 12:40 or so, the same man walked back in the front entrance of the waiting area (he had escaped about an hour before, but Steve continued to text him even in his absence) and made a beeline for the curtain. However, on his way there, he may have moved his hand towards us a bit—which was all that was necessary.

Brian: “Steve, did he ask you to come with him?”

Steve: -- --.
(Without word, Steve runs behind the curtain after the man.)

And now, it’s Steve that’s gone for a bit. 10 minutes? 20? After sitting for almost four hours, who’s really counting. He was gone a bit. And then he returned. And he didn’t look happy.

Seems that another verification stamp was needed on the letter of invitation. I guess it wasn’t such a “model” after all. No visa until the stamp is there. And the embassy closes for the weekend in two hours. “Bon chance” as they say in Gabon—good luck.

Steve made phone calls, sent emails, and we prayed and prayed. Nothing. Closed for the weekend. Opportunity gone. Frustrating.

One of the phone calls Steve made was to Pastor Jean Marc. Jean Marc is one of the former Presidents of the C&MA in Gabon, a great man of God, and one of those guys that everyone knows. Jean Marc was the one who had finally secured the letter of invitation through a contact in EG. Steve gave him an update, and he gave Steve an alternative plan. Seems that EG will also give visas at the border. We could simply drive there and try. Of course, the border is a nearly nine hour drive from Libreville. Bon chance.

Steve initially protested that it didn’t make any sense to make that drive if Mario had been effectively turned down at the embassy. It was then that Pastor Jean Marc said that words that stuck with me all day: “Steve, you need to have faith.”

Faith? I’m all for faith, but in this instance, I wanted faith along with documents! Drive nine hours on faith, after already being turned away? Isn’t that crazy?

That’s the real question, isn’t it? When do we simply buckle down and trust God, and when do we interpret the circumstances all around us? Gideon was outnumbered before he started—and then God reduced the odds to the ridiculous. All common sense said “run away.” It made no sense. But in faith, they push through—and God wins the battle. (See Judges 7) Or what about barren Abraham and barren Sarah, two old empty-nesters who never did have a full nest? God promises them in their old age that He will build them into a great nation. Years pass, still no kids, and now their well into their Social Security. It makes no sense. “Abram believed the Lord, and he credited it to him as righteousness.” (Genesis 15:6) He had faith.

I don’t want to be misconstrued as giving license for foolishness. There are certainly times to pay attention to what makes sense—in fact, more times that not. But where does faith come in? For us, it comes in after years of prayer, months of preparation, endorsement by our church Elders, and a keen sense of God’s presence throughout the whole process. As long as He shows us there’s a step still in front of us, we will walk in it.

And so, that’s why the alarm will go off at 3:50am tomorrow. We’ll groggily pack the old Nissan Patrol up again, and head north. We’ll pick up Pastor Guy Roget (Gabon’s National Director for Mission and Evangelization) a few kilometers in. All seven of us will make the nine hour trek toward the border, and from there, we’ll see what’s next. Whether we are allowed across the border or not, we will trust God for the next step. Because that’s what it means to follow a Lord.

“You need to have faith.” Indeed. Jesus, may it be so.

York Alliance in West Africa: A Crazy Story

So I'm here in Libreville, Gabon in West Africa, staying at a guesthouse run by our great friends Steve and Alace Straw, preparing for a two-week whirlwind tour of African churches, medical clinics, an orphanage, and several days in Equatorial Guinea, a small country to the north of Gabon.

Back story may be necessary.

In 2004, my wife Amanda and I took an exploratory trip to El Salvador. Honestly, the intent of that trip was to verify that we did not want to connect with that church through short-term mission teams, but continue with our original plan of establishing a connection in Peru. However, within 36 hours of being in El Salvador, we had met Pastor Mario Gonzalez, Pastor Juan Carlos Dominguez, both of their families, and heard their heart for their church. By the time we actually visited Iglesia Comunidad de Fe y Adoracion that Sunday, we were absolutely positive that God was calling us to connect our church (York Alliance Church in York, PA) with this church in El Salvador. Our values were identical, our hearts connected, and we saw a common vision of what God might do with such a partnership. However, the large, driving question was still there: why El Salvador? It's far from an "unreached" country. Even the public buses proudly display "Jesus es el Senor" (Jesus is Lord), and statistically, the country has a higher percentage of Evangelical Christians than the U.S. One of the top five largest churches in the world is located in the same city. Why there?

We began to send teams, and our connection grew. A significant part of that connection were Steve and Alace Straw, who as part of our staff and youth leadership team, led several trips to El Salvador in order to partner with this church. Another series of events, and Steve and Alace are telling us that they are feeling called to Gabon in order to operate a plane service in support of the Bongolo Hospital, a Christian & Missionary Alliance (C&MA) run hospital in the middle of the Gabonese jungle. Again, this made no sense. While York Alliance (YAC) had connections all over the globe, we had no significant connection in Gabon, and the C&MA was pulling missionaries out of that field except for the hospital and those who served in support of it, due to the health of the national church. Yet, the Straws were deeply connected at YAC and if God was clearly calling them, He was calling us. There must be a reason...

So we fast-forward another year or so. Steve and Alace and their three wonderful kids, Joe, Megan, and Sam, have finished language school in France and have landed in Gabon. As they start to connect there, I get a strange email from Steve: had I ever heard of a little country to the north of Gabon called Equatorial Guinea? Now, West African geography seemed to be a bit of a hole in my otherwise comprehensive public education, so I had to admit that I was unaware such a place existed. It turns out, Steve tells me, that there is a small country about the size of Deleware just north of Gabon, and it's the only Spanish speaking country on the continent of Africa.

I may not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but the pieces were starting to come together. Equatorial Guinea (EG) seems to have been underserved by Western missionaries over the years because if you are training to go to Africa, you learn... hello... French. Who learns Spanish and then heads to West Africa? So the Gabonese C&MA church, now developing, self-sustaining, and sending it's own missionaries, had a vision to reach EG. Could we help?

We began to pray. As if we needed further confirmation, a couple from our church who has had a significant connection with the church in El Salvador over the years immediately began to pray about their role. Within 18 months, Dave and Stacey Pope were headed to the Dominican Republic. Dave's job would allow him to work via the internet from anywhere in the world, and Stacey wanted to lead a Spanish-speaking international school, which she found a great fit for in the DR. They thought they might do this just in case there might be a need someday for a Spanish-speaking international school in EG... since her research indicated that one didn't exist in the entire nation. Could it be the beginning of a church-planting team?

So I approached Pastor Mario. Would he be willing to explore the possibility of either he and his family or others from within the church in El Salvador moving to Equatorial Guinea to work with a church plant? No one had ever heard of a church planting team representing three distinct nations working together to plant a church in a fourth nation... at least no one I've been able to find. However, always up for an adventure, he immediately agreed. The initial steps were underway.

Now we fast-forward to last Thursday, when Pastor Mario arrived in York, PA from El Salvador to meet with our team of eight: a dentist, a retired nurse, an aspiring writer, a ten year old girl, a fourteen year old guy, a small business owner (who happens to be nearly fluent in Spanish and French as well as English), and two pastors from two different countries. We prayed together, rejoiced at the unbelievable work of God, and set out for Africa just a few days later!

So this Thursday, four of us from the U.S., Pastor Mario, Steve Straw, and several Gabonese church leaders will make the 10-12 hour drive to Bata, Equatorial Guinea. We'll meet with a Gabonese missionary who is seeking to start a work there, and we'll ask God what He's doing. Who knows? Maybe we're here to simply be a blessing to this man and the work that he is doing. Maybe all of this was to create the opportunity for Dr. Kruth, our dentist, to be here to do dental work in community clinics and at the orphanage. Or maybe... just maybe... God is sovereignly weaving together a team from three different nations to be a part of the Kingdom of God advancing into Bata, Equatorial Guinea. What a trip that would be.