Posts Tagged ‘Lessons’
Numbers
Sunday, February 21st, 2010Soaring and sinking
Tuesday, February 2nd, 2010
Given that my last post was about rights and luxuries, this probably seems like a complete about-face. It probably seems that way because it is. Today, I’m filled with sadness, longing, desire. Lust.
I lust after the American dream. I want the house. I want the dog and the backyard and the barbecue parties and the hot tub. I want the crafts room and the rec room. I want the kitchen with the double-wide fridge and ice dispenser. I want the toaster on the counter, the nice clothes in the closet and the recreational gear stored neatly in the garage.
We traveled around the world, saw the poverty and the despair, met the people who give up the little they have to serve the Lord. So how is it possible that I come home and I still long for a life the Lord has not blessed me with right now?
I look at house listings online and want to cry. We don’t even know what our future will hold, there is nothing certain about life beyond Pockets of Change. I know this is a period in my life. This is the place, the time, the life God has set before me and most of the time I praise Him for it. But today, I just want to go back to an easy life of earning money and spending as I wish. Today, I feel more human, more fallible, more caught up in the world than in the Spirit.
I guess that’s the reality of being human. Sometimes we soar, sometimes we sink. But through it all, God’s promises are true. God’s love for me is real. And God’s desire for me is to be in relationship with Him, not with the world. So today, I will set aside my own desires and seek His. I will put my requests before Him and leave them there. Because God is God, and I am not. And His will is perfect for me, even on the days I don’t feel it.
I will seek wisdom instead of wealth. I will seek integrity instead of financial interest. I will seek justice instead of jewels.
For the LORD gives wisdom, and from his mouth come knowledge and understanding. He holds victory in store for the upright, He is a shield to those whose walk is blameless, for He guards the course of the just and protects the way of his faithful ones.
- Provers 2:6-8
Dichotomy
Tuesday, January 26th, 2010We were driving down the road on the outskirts of Kisumu, Kenya, a modern city in the banks of Lake Victoria, when something caught my eye.
We drove past a woman washing her clothes in the stream, next to a colossal billboard advertising a washer / dryer combo. It read: ‘Who said washing clothes is hard work’?
While the woman and the advertisement were directly next to each other, the two could not have been further apart. It was such a dichotomy to see an ad that would not stand out in North America next to a scene that does not stand out in Africa. But placed together, the two images were worlds apart.
She has no more chance of ever owning a modern-day appliance than I have of winning the Ms. World pageant. Maybe that didn’t bother her. Maybe it bothered me because even after all this travel I still consider things like a washing machine more of a right than a luxury. And that’s after washing a lot of underwear and socks in bathroom sinks. What I consider my rights versus luxuries are so separated from what that woman would consider a right or a luxury.
Now that we’re back and in our normal lives here in Canada, there are things that I used to consider my rights that really stand out to me now as overwhelming luxuries. It’s tough to separate what I experienced in our travels with what I see back in Canada. I feel different: I look at the world differently, I look at my finances differently, I look at my heart differently. Yet I live in the same world I did before. The struggle now is what to do now with the changes that took place in me.
It’s a good reason that everyone should be involved in missions. You change, whether that’s what you’re after or not.
Remember Seje
Sunday, November 15th, 2009I’m having a difficult time writing what I experience. I try to put my fingers to the keyboard and relate what I have seen, heard, shared. But all that stares back at me from the screen is a blank page with a blinking line, waiting for input.
Considering that stringing words into captivating sentences that turn into stories is the reason that I am even in this place, this concerns me.
What I find myself stumped in writing about is a story of two teachers working in the middle of nowhere in a place called Seje. It’s a small community in Kenya, little more than an array of huts about five kilometres from a village that at least has a few corner stores.
The only way to find the school in which they work is to follow a long thin ribbon of red dirt that someone had the sense of humour to call a road. It bumps and winds and has potholes so big I was concerned we would be abandoning the car and walking with our field partner Edgar to find it.
We arrived safely, to a dusty patch of land with two buildings. Inside the mud walls of the first room, children sing a welcome to their rare visitors from outside the community. Bright sunlight streamed into the windows, providing the only light. Unlike most Kenyan schools, only some of the kids here wear uniforms, and they are tattered and threadbare.
The circumstances these students find themselves in are awful. It is a hot and dusty place. Most of the children are orphans, living wherever they can find a sympathetic hand or with old grandparents in need of assistance themselves.
10 shillings
Tuesday, October 27th, 2009
Wilfreda’s weathered face reveals an old woman who has suffered hardship. To look at her arms, you can trace the bones within. Her clothes are tattered and threadbare.
Wilfreda lives in a small mud hut with a thatched roof. She and her aged husband have no means of making money. We visited Wilfreda at her home because she had been blessed with a male and a female goat through a project facilitated by Hungry for Life and our good friend Edgar.
We saw the goats first, as our visit was unannounced and Wilfreda was not home. As we talked to our guide Pastor Michael about the project, Wilfreda came running up the dirt path to greet us.
She happily shook our hands and told us through Pastor Michael’s translation what a joy it was to meet us and how excited she was about the upcoming birth of her goat. She talked of the blessing these goats will be when she can start to sell the offspring at the market to make a bit of money.
We had a little chat and headed on our way as we had much to see and a long ways to walk on this particular day. And I thought that was the end of my story about Wilfreda. But then we went to Pastor Michael’s church on Sunday.
The mud walled and tin roofed church was full of mostly widows and orphans. Some had probably not had anything to eat for breakfast; three meals a day is unheard of in Boro.
Pastor Michael’s flock is a very poor one. While they cannot bring much to offer, what they do bring is joy. Wilfreda and the others arrived at the church with huge smiles, dressed in their Sunday best.
They came to worship, and it was a sweet sound. Out of the congregation, one lone woman would begin to sing praise to God. The rest would repeat after her, moving and clapping their worship to Christ. As one song ended, another woman would begin a new song, and so it went for song after song.
It was beautiful. There was such a presence of God in this place, and the humble surroundings made it all the more evident that God seeks after our hearts alone. I watched as Wilfreda sang out to her Saviour, giving Him her praise. I am sure God smiled down on his followers in the Boro church that day.
The Hillside team’s pastor, Durwin, gave the message, and then it came time for the offering. A large basket was placed on a table at the front, and quickly after people began to drop in their offerings. As a team, we had decided to each give about 100 shillings each, a lot for these people but under $2 for us. I was standing right by the basket, and as I watched, Wilfreda and most of the others in the church came forward. They dropped in change – 5, 10, maybe 20 shillings at the most – releasing their grip and dropping their meagre offerings into the hand woven basket with a clink.
As I watched, I began to weep. I couldn’t help it.
We gave so little. These people gave a tenth of what we did, yet they gave so much more.What we gave was nothing in comparison to what they gave. How can I describe the sacrifice these people gave, their precious offering?
It was so real to me, after seeing Wilfreda in her home and witnessing the poverty she came from. To see her and others that come from similar living situations give their offerings to Christ was humbling. No sacrifice I have made for God’s glory comes close to the 10 shillings Wilfreda gave that day.
Reflections and connections
Wednesday, September 30th, 2009
Here is a newsletter we sent out to supporters. If you did not receive this and would like to be on our mailing list, please contact us through the contact form on the website or email Justin@pocketsofchange.org
Time sure is flying here in the Ukraine. We’ve been here a week already in Nikopol and it’s hard to believe how quickly the time has gone. Justin and I have heard many stories, so many it gets overwhelming. I have filled an entire notebook already in just one week, and we still have another full week here before we leave for Uganda.
We have seen great need here. We have also seen the power of Christ at work in people’s lives. Those that have nothing praise God for giving them breath and life even though they have very little else. Most have had a lifetime of hardship yet their faith is so much stronger than mine.
One thing that has really stood out to me is the ravaging effects of alcohol here; it is rampant. It’s clear Satan has a hold on many Ukrainians through this destructive substance and their families are hurt because of it. We met a woman yesterday who exemplifies this problem. Her name is Luba. Her husband drinks. And she hates it. The sadness in her eyes when she told us that said more than her words. A pool of tears welled up in her eyes as she shared about her husband. Then she told us her son went off to war, and when he came home he had mental problems and started to drink too.
“I can’t express what a suffering it is,” she voiced about her pain.
Yet Luba gets up every day determined to live as Christ would have her live. God reached out to her and saved her and she lives each day with a joy that can only come from Christ, not from her life circumstances.
For Justin, what has stood out has been how similar the Ukraine at first glance looks to Canada. When you’re driving through the streets of Nikopol and out into the countryside, it looks so similar to back home. Visible evidence like signs in another language and alphabet never allow us to pretend for too long, but the trees, the landscape and comforts of the guest home sure make it feel like home.
But, what Justin has observed, is that the more we talk to people and get to know their stories, the more foreign this country has become. What he read in history books in school is now more real than ever. These people we are meeting have lived through communism, they lived through Stalin’s regime and the concentration camps and the starvation and the corruption. It’s no longer just words in a text book; it’s real people with real experiences.
We would like to encourage those that would like to, to drop us a note once in awhile. Justin and I both are feeling out of the loop from life in Canada and sometimes feel like we’re floating in the ocean without a tether to home.
We eagerly await a chance each day to see if the internet is working and check our mail only to find out there are no messages for us. Certainly we don’t need to hear from everyone all the time, but if you are praying for us, or if you have a cool verse to share or something, we would love to get an email.
Justin and I know that we could not do this project without the support from back home. And we know that there are people praying for us as we have been protected, healthy and gathering the stories of life change we came to gather. Thank you for your prayers, for your concern, and for your friendship. We value each one of you and appreciate your support.
Counting many blessings
Friday, August 28th, 2009
There’s an old familiar hymn I used to sing growing up: ‘Count your many blessings every doubt will fly,’ and the familiar chorus rings out, ‘Count your blessings, count them one by one / And it will surprise you what the Lord has done’.
I have felt spiritually discouraged lately. Feeling like what I’m doing has no Kingdom value, like I’m just taking up space and writing words and none of it is going to make a difference. I know these thoughts come from the evil one who wants to take us down, defeat us and claim victory in this battle. But knowing in my head these thoughts are not from my King and keeping it from affecting my heart are two different things.
So I spent some time this morning just reflecting on the blessings in the Pockets of Change project these last few months. It is not by our strength or smarts this project will be accomplished or be of Kingdom value. It is through Christ alone. When people ask how we’re doing this, I want to always point them to my King. Because He blesses His people and enables them to do His calling. We’re just thankful He chose us to be a part of it.
We’ve been on the road three of the last six months, between our Canada and abroad travels. We’ve enjoyed the travels and have enjoyed the time in Chilliwack as well. It’s been a good experience thus far and we’re now looking to prepare for our final leg of travel.
Going way back to June, we arrived back from our South America travels at the beginning of the month. After in-depth debriefing and catching up on sleep, we spent a couple weeks sorting through interviews and photos and preparing ourselves for the Mexico trip in July. We also spent a fun-filled week in Cranbrook to attend my 10 year grad reunion and catch up with old friends.
A man of vision
Tuesday, August 4th, 2009It’s hard to find someone worth following. There’s usually not a lot of substance in the men and women we place ahead of us. Celebrities, world leaders, local politicians – they all lack the ability to gain my trust.
In the grocery store line-up, I see celebrity magazine covers splashed with news from the icons this world chooses to follow. But those leaders let people down. You don’t have to watch much TV or stand in grocery store line-ups to know that Jon and Kate are no longer plus eight. The perfect family splits up, now who do you follow when it comes to marriage and kids?
Then there’s the political leaders. I think of Barrack Obama. It was like the second coming of Christ when he was elected; people followed him like lambs, vowing everything would change for the better. The world would be a rosy place with Obama in charge. Now the realities of his role have hit and we find he is not the knight in shining armour many had trusted he would be.
We follow the footsteps of these leaders, in the hope that the lives they live and the decisions they make will lead to a better tomorrow. And we are let down. Even in Christian circles this happens, for we’re all susceptible to the sins of this world.
Yet there are leaders worth following in this world, if you look in the right place. Look, for example, in Mexico and to Pastor Tomas. I know I’ve mentioned Pastor Tomas in a couple posts from Mexico. But mentioning is not what I want to do. I want you to know him; I want you to feel as if you have sat down and listened to him speak because I’m sure God has given him a gift of vision that is passed along through his words.
He is a man of strength, a man of vision, and a man of action. He has such passion for the people of the Copper Canyon, the unreached and hard-to-reach people of Mexico’s deep valley areas. He was called to the people of the Copper Canyon many years ago, after hearing of the great need that existed there. And he has not looked back since.
Sitting in the the teacher’s humble room at the orphanage in Guacaivo, Pastor Tomas took the time to share with me this passion he has for the lost people in this stunningly beautiful place.
Sprints and marathons
Monday, July 27th, 2009I was once a runner. I loved the feeling of finishing a race. I never much cared that I wasn’t first, and even when I was in the best shape of my life I knew my body type wasn’t one that would win races. But I was a finisher, and that for me was always an accomplishment worth celebrating.
From my experience, there are two categories of runs: sprints and marathons. OK, technically a marathon is a set race of 42 km. But in my mind, there are the short races and the long hauls. And you run the races very differently depending on the length.
Sprints are all-out, pump the legs and arms as fast as you can, pound the feet against the track, end goal in sight type of deals. You basically go like stink until you reach the finish.
Marathon length races are run much differently. They require persistence and an ability to push through a more aching pain as you consistently pound the pavement. Mentally your focus needs to be on the end goal though you cannot see it for miles in between you and the finish line. Pacing is important, and having a strong support team providing water, food, encouragement and arms to fall into at the end of the race are crucial.
Our entire Mexico trip we were with a team from Coquitlam Alliance Church (CAC) and as we worked with them, I really saw the difference between a sprint and a marathon when it comes to a short term trip. The people on this trip worked like stink, hiking and digging and dry-walling and pipe laying and concrete making and running VBS and encouraging and praying and driving – lots of driving – for two weeks straight.
And we pretty much followed along the team schedule set up for the CAC group. For 14 of the 15 days we ran the rapid pace that is a short term missions sprint: limited time, much to do, many places to get to in such a short time that every hour counts.
A long walk
Friday, May 22nd, 2009
Eriberto walked for hours to meet with us. We don’t know how long it took him; time is not really a relevant detail to the highland Quechewa people. Neither is distance. What is important is community. And we got to see first-hand in Peru how the organization ATEK is helping communities to build and grow and become strong.
Standing in a field by the elementary school, Eriberto wears a Stetson-style black hat with a strip of brown leather stretched around the band. His blue checkered shirt is done up neatly underneath his bright red jacket. It’s fairly cool in the morning at 11,000 feet. We’re higher than Machu Picchu right now, surrounded on all sides by green mountains.
Eriberto was a leader in his church, and helped minister to another nine churches in other communities. The church leaders got together about five or six years ago, acknowledging that they needed proper training to help lead their congregations. None of the leaders of these churches had ever had formal training, and financially they could simply not afford to go to school. It was “impossible,” Eriberto shares.
That’s when Eriberto heard about ATEK, a Quechewa-run ministry that works with Quechewa communities to train leaders. Leaders who can teach, who can preach, who can minister to husbands and wives and children. Training that is simply not accessible to these remote communities otherwise.
ATEK came in to Corribumba and helped Eriberto’s community. In the last five years, Eriberto has seen enormous change in his community of Corribumba and in the other nine churches in his network.
In his town of Corribumba, ATEK-trained teachers are now leading marriage counseling, literacy training and alcohol education as well as pastoral teaching. He has seen his church strengthened where before it seemed ready to die. It grew the faith of the Christians in his community, and he says they are now aware of their responsibilities as Christians.
But more than that, Eriberto has seen change in his own life. He and his wife took ATEK’s marriage counselling. The sessions opened his eyes to what a marriage could be, such as praying together and making decisions as a couple, something they never did before. Even though he was a minister and was teaching and was baptizing, he never fully understood what marriage was about. Now it makes it more meaningful when he helps to counsel other couples, as he now does in various communities including the village of Perrca, where we were staying when he made his trek to share with us what God is doing.
Summing it up, Eriberto says this about the training he and his community received through ATEK.
“It’s a blessing from God. ATEK is like a medicine for the problems in our villages.”
