God bless the last ones

Kekeli is her name and she daily takes her post outside of the Concord grocery store in Lome, Togo. She is severely crippled and is among the hundreds of those begging for loose change on the streets of the capital city. Often we are asked for money, but we rarely take note of those asking us. We give with a “God bless you” and usually a smile, but these “last ones” who shall one day be first have become part of the scenery of Togo.

Kekeli is different. Her smile is what caught our attention. One day I was feeling rather generous and I gave about twice as much as usual. The amount was equal to a legitimate wage for a day’s labor. Kekeli reacted with glee. It was such a display of joy that Louise began to call her my girlfriend. It went on for months that I would give her a lion’s share of the change and her being overjoyed before I ever asked her name. In reality her joy was infecting me and those around her.

Last week I decided it was finally time to ask the name of my “girlfriend”. She told me it was Kekeli.

Kekeli means light.

Fitting, don’t you think?

 

He healed my cassava!

Each year that we have interns we send them out to live with a family in one of the farming villages far away from civilization and other comforts. We call this bonding and it is an important part of cultural study for any missionary.

After three or four days we go and pick them up and they are gushing with stories of various adventures that range from culinary delights to the amazing power of nonverbal communication. It is rare that anything of great significance, spiritually speaking, occurs. Most of the time everyone returns with the ‘wow, we sure are blessed as Americans’ or the ‘living simply is where it’s at’ realizations, but I can’t remember a time when they came back with a ‘WOW, God showed up!’

This year was an exception and I got to hear about it first hand. Two of our interns bonded in the Adankonou area. One stayed with Tsokemawu (forgiven by God) and the other with Jerome (kind of a bland name for a Watchi, huh?).

On Sunday we arrived to worship with them all before taking the interns home and it came time for people to share what God had recently done in their lives. Tsokemawu stood up and talked about how he had been shocked that an American really could live with their family and eat out of the same bowl and drink from the same cup. He then stated how we are all really one in Spirit. Then his wife stood up. She talked about how amazed she was at the humility of the American that stayed with them. (That is something you don’t hear every, or maybe I should say, any day.) Of course, she was amazed that he helped cook and went to the field and played with her kids. Then she stopped and said, “He even prayed for the kids when they were sick and as soon as he finished, they were well.” We sat up at this. Part of me wanted to say, “That isn’t fair, he doesn’t even speak the language.” Or maybe, “He cheated and used English!” I did inquire as to how sick they were and how well they became, and I found out that yes, they were really sick and yes, they immediately became really well and all I could say was, “Yah, Kafu Mawu daaa. Enye nusekatatato vava!!” (loosely translated as WOW!) As if that wasn’t enough, then the old man, Amekpa, stood up and said, “They went to my field of cassava that was all wilted and dying and they prayed for it and this morning I went out and it was all good and green! They healed my cassava!” This time their was no temptation for banter or discussion about the importance of working in the vernacular language, it was already out there, “They healed my cassava!”

We all said, “Wow!” The interns didn’t plan for this. We didn’t even consider it. It’s just that one intern, without speaking their language, in compassion handed things over to God that could only accomplished in Jesus’ name and amen,

it came to pass.

This kind of reminds me of some things Jesus said.

John 14:14 Whatever you ask in my name …

Faith

 

A lesson about prayer

As missionaries to the Watchi people of southern Togo, back in 1997, we were distressed by the lack of age we were seeing among the members of the various churches. The average believer seemed to be a nineteen year old male farmer. It was time to start training leaders and we knew that we needed some “old men” in the church that would provide stable leadership for the fledgling movement of Jesus.

So, we began praying for old men to want to walk with Jesus.

About a month later, dressed more like a Peace Corps volunteer than a missionary I was walking around in a new village with some men from Tabligbo. As we walked along we noticed an old man sitting beside a coffin stand, yes that is a place where several coffins are for sale roadside. This papa had also taken notice of us and did something that shocked everyone.

He said in the Eve language, “Mawu fe nutsu, va gblo nam tso Yesu nuti.” This is translated, man of God, come tell me about Jesus; and he was looking at me when he said it.

How did he know I spoke Eve? How did he know that I knew about Jesus? How? What was going on?

When I retell this story, I am amazed. I can almost smell the air and remember exactly where I was standing and what I was wearing when he called out to me like that. It was so surreal, or maybe I should say so super-real.

This man that I called Papa was completely crippled by arthritis. He was suffering greatly, yet thinking very clearly. When I later asked him why he had wanted to learn about Jesus, he told me that it was because the idols had failed him. He knew in his heart that God would not.

He did find Jesus. He was reborn in Christ and then several months later left us to be with Him.

I have always been rather attention deficit. God has had to use some special moments in my life to open my eyes. Being side swiped by an 18 wheeler and drug down the interstate against a retaining wall comes to mind. Not as dangerous, but just as poignant to me is this moment when God was wanting to encourage me to pray.

It is a lesson I am still learning.

You may ask me for anything in my name, and I will do it. John 14:14

 

Spiritual reality check

I’ll never forget our second Sunday in Togo, almost eleven years ago. We went to the small village church of Kpo Kpo Kondzi. Their building was poorly positioned between the village idol and the well. In other words, each Sunday it was the center of village ‘life’. Fights at the well usually broke out as soon as the singing began. On our first Sunday there, it lived up to its reputation,

chaos.

After walking the gauntlet of onlookers to the church building, we entered and began worshipping with our teammates, the Holland’s, and a group of about twelve young men and women. In the middle of this, our six month old son, Taylor, began crying or maybe I should say, screaming. We did all of the “American” things to do patting, feeding, walking, etc… but, to no avail.

Side note, Taylor’s infancy was so quiet and easy that we hardly remember it. He just kind of hung out from the moment he was born, as if he was saying, “everything’s cool, I’m just happy to be here.”

For him to cry in this way, was shocking to us. After about five minutes of it we were worn out and truly at a loss. Brenda, our very experienced teammate, saw what was happening through a different set of glasses, spiritual ones. She saw that this was an attack on us and an attempt to discourage us. She simply bowed her head and prayed for Taylor to be at peace.

He was,

but, we weren’t. It was a ‘we aren’t in Kansas anymore’ moment.

Since then, we have learned to pray more, and be more observant, spiritually speaking,

“Be self controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour.” I Peter 5:8

Also, though, we learned,

“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” I John 4:4

I guess that was our orientation class to the school of missions in Togo.

 

Living Word

One thing I love about the Bible is the way it comes to life in dramatic and very undeniable ways creating within us an experience that deepens with time and has far reaching effects.

There is a leader in Ahepe named Feli who for many years was at best a churchgoer. About six years ago, Feli became the default leader of the church in his neighborhood. He was still selling lottery tickets and riding the fence of sincerity. He wanted to believe, but just wasn’t sure if he could depend on God to really take care of his family.

About two years ago a gracious opportunity presented itself to Feli that upon giving up the lottery he would have ownership of a corn grinder and begin a new chapter.

He took it. This is equivalent to a loss of at least 50% of his income. Since then he has vaulted the fence and has really grown in his love for Jesus.

There were two “Bible come to life” events for Feli last week that really encouraged me. Two ladies had missed worship on Sunday morning. So, in the afternoon Feli went looking for them. He found them in their fields grinding and cooking cassava to sell at market on Monday. He began encouraging and working with them and before he left they sent him home with a huge bowl of roasted cassava which his family ate throughout the week. Then on Thursday, Togo’s labor day, Feli was called to a feast. Upon arriving, there were several men gathered who were decked out in their festive garments ready to eat. Feli was invited to bless the meal. After the meal was over the group requested for Feli to share a message from the Bible. He taught from Matthew chapter six about how God blesses us and takes care of all our needs if only we will seek him and his will. His message was well received and he went on his way.

It hit me as I sat with him this past Friday, how dramatically his life has changed and how even the cynical population of his village has taken note of this transformation. What happened? What made the difference? He took God at his word and God is faithful.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness and all these things will be given to you as well. Matthew 6:33

 

Ten minutes?

O.K., I have a confession.  In my desire to write with wit and depth I regularly go for quite a bit longer than ten minutes.  Maybe I should change it to

thirty minute musings which take  two minutes to read

Or maybe what is true is that it would take others only ten minutes to muse conclusively what it takes me thirty minutes to arrive at.

Forgiven?

Thanks.  I feel much better now.

I’ll just keep the title if that is o.k.  It is kind of African of me anyway.  Why just the other day when Tucker and I headed up the mountain to take our jump we couldn’t find a taxi cab.  So we just began walking up the road.  I thought, well, it shouldn’t take too long.  Then, after five minutes I saw someone coming down and I asked this woman how long it would take to get to the top.  She, who was not wearing a watch, volunteered that 30 minutes would be sufficient for the journey.  Tucker and I began marching briskly and only about 30 percent of the way up and thirty minutes later did I realize the gross error that I had made.  Blessedly two motorcycle taxis showed up just after my confessing this miscalculation to Tucker and him forgiving me.  They hauled us to the top for a mere dollar each and we flew.

So, I guess in an African sort of way ten minutes can be anywhere from five to fifty.

There I go, self-justification at its best.

 

Did I really just do that?

There are many ways to be overwhelmed by God’s beauty and underwhelmed (that should be a word, shouldn’t it) by your own strength or lack of thereof. In those moments of smallness face to face with God’s greatness, vocabulary becomes limited to things like wow and primeval yells. There is really nothing like it.

Had that today here in Togo as Tucker and I strapped ourselves to parachutes and ran off the side of a mountain. Watching Tucker go was … wow. Going myself was … WOW. Incredible and so refreshing to be loved by such a great God and enjoy his beauty in such unexpected ways. The mountains, valleys, clouds, wind, birds, trees, rocks all screaming in unison, “GLORY!” And then there you are, sailing along with nothing between you and a very long fall to earth. WOW, the parachute really works.

Faith is the WOW of our lives. It is faith and hope coming together bound by our weakness and his strength, and love. Then, WOW, he comes in and rescues, saves, intervenes, heals,

and we cry,

GLORY.

Cool thing was that we did it for $30 each.

 

Its safari season.

This is one of our favorite diversions for the dry season. Safari ventures in Pendjari await us only a nine hour drive and border away in Benin. This is our chance annually to see how close we can get to lions and elephants and we love it. This year’s adventure did not disappoint any who went. Lions and elephants abounded along with all the other usual suspects. One group this year did observe jackals which was rare. As always we got lots of in the car time with family and friends. We had a total of 36 go on the trip. 36 did come back as well, although we did have one visitor actually get out to take a picture of the male lion who was protecting a recent cape buffalo kill. We didn’t think he would make it back to the car as the lion reacted to this brilliant move by crouching, tensing as they do when they are about to put someone or something in the permanent horizontal. The kids had a great time both young and old observing God’s incredible creation. You can see many pictures of this safari at http://harding.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2000176&id=1013940033.

 

Foli Kome Fire Brigade

An interesting event occured this morning at 8:45 am. I was just commencing my study time and was alarmed by the commotion behind our house. One person rushing by informed us that the blind man’s house behind us was on fire. Quick, call 911. No answer. Quick, run out of the gate with no plan. I returned to make a plan. Grab the fire extinguisher. Louise beat me to it. It was given to us after Foli Kome’s last fire disaster six years ago this week by a former teammate’s brother. That disaster happened in our back yard when our jungle gym was engulfed in flames. Taylor had tried to inform me of the problem fifteen minutes or so prior, but all my softly spoken four year old had said at the time was that it was hot outside. Really really hot to be more precise. Anyway, today I got there just in time to use it. We were doing bucket brigades and dashing in and out of the two room house to get out furniture and look for the source. We finally found that and I got to play the BIG MAN and empty the contents of my red canister. It was quite an exciting fifteen minutes and the only damage beyond repair incurred was that of a one dollar grass mat that he sleeps on and my now empty red fire extinguisher. Sadly they saved his wooden idols from inside the house. Too bad those didn’t go up in flames. Well, they will sooner or later. When he returned from market and found his burned out house, he and two other men came by to thank us. Ironically we did very little work. I guess it just surprised them that I would help. Ouch, that hurt! All in all I would say that our little vollunteer fire department worked pretty well. It’s a good thing we didn’t wait on the pro’s, since the nearest department is ninety minutes away and we would have to pay for their gas, feed them, and

 

Plaid shirts and Prado’s

I don’t have any clue whatsoever why missionaries wear plaid shirts. Eight years ago, when I was in the capital city of Lome, a Togolese man asked me if I was a missionary. I answered in the affirmative and then asked him how he knew. He said it was the shirt. I looked down - plaid. I looked around at my colleagues for the next few months, plaid, plaid, and more plaid. I tried to buck the system with my golf shirts, but someone sent me a plaid one. It’s the uniform I guess. It does make the decision making easier in the morning, though, and at least it’s not plaid pants! We got this great new car seven years ago. It was supposed to be the “next thing” in SUV’s. It was tough, it was agile and it was a Toyota Land Cruiser - Prado. All we saw was Land Cruiser (AKA - Land Crusher) for 10 thousand cheaper than the full size. We were on it. Between ours and the Kabiye team, we wound up with eight in all. Several years of working in Togo has a way of wearing you down, though. Our Prado’s have shown the resilience of a Prada (bag) that is. I just don’t think it was made for Togo. Sometimes we feel that way. A little beat up. We get repaired one or two pieces at a time then we go head to head with the pot holes, tree stumps, mud, and sand of Togo all over again. This photo tells it all.