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?

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

Odd title, I realize.  It is something I am investigating.

Colossians 3:15 says, “Let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, since as members of one body you were called to peace.  And be thankful.”

O.k.

Now, I see from the passages surrounding this that Paul is talking about relationships, but surely this “ruling” peace goes deeper than that.

We are faced with lots of unanswered questions every day as we think and plan for our transition to Rwanda.  I could list them but I would definitely exceed my alloted ten minutes.  As we consider these details, both spiritual and physical for our move, though, we usually feel anything but peaceful.  In fact they tend to kind of pile up and become a sort of …

burden.

Oh, yeah, didn’t Jesus mention that?

Matthew 11:28-30 says, “Come to me all you who are weary and burdened and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

So, yeah, here we all are with our various burdens, challenges, struggles, etc… and Jesus is offering us peace and Paul is saying, “Let it rule.”  How do we do that?  How do we submit these worries to the rule of Christ’s peace?

10 minutes are up.  Reply if you like.

Shalom.

Those are words that we don’t like to say.

In fact, I kind of despise them.

Two weeks ago I was cheated by my mechanic and charged almost $1500 for a repair that should have cost $700 or so.

I reacted. I didn’t think. I just exploded all over him.

The Eve language is wonderfully capable of exuding anger. You could almost say that with it’s high and low inflections along with the way it is pushed out from the diaphragm that it was made for expressing extreme emotions.

Well, with my mechanic standing there, I, ashamedly, utilized the strength of the Eve language.

I told him he would hear from me in a couple of weeks after I figured things out.

I changed a part back out that he had installed that I didn’t need.

I called around to find the legitimate price of the part he had put on.

Then I settled for an amount that I thought we could pay.

He then called me for a meeting.

Over the years, as I’ve been sharing, we have been learning to pray. So, I took the occasion seriously. I had softened over the interim and began to pray asking God to guide me in this process. What I heard was, “You need to say you are sorry for the way you acted.” I wanted to debate, never a good idea with God (remember Job?), but I didn’t. I thought about it. God was right. I had not fared well in the previous test.

We met together, the mechanic and I. His name is Mawuko which means God alone. I love that. After the traditional greetings, I started by saying I was sorry. His countenance totally changed. Peace settled in on us and his anger from being shamed by my reaction immediately dissipated. I gave him the unneeded part and then broached the subject of payment.

He asked me how much I could pay and I told him half of what he had asked.

I waited for the rejection. I was disappointed.

He agreed.

Mercy.

Truly, even in the Eve language, a gentle answer turns away wrath.

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

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.

That is me, there in the middle, hanging by the homemade rope; at least that is how I feel on some days anyway.

This poor lizard was still breathing when we saw him, but I’m not sure he made it for much longer. He seemed to be on his way out.

We are hosting interns right now. Where did they get all that energy? Where has ours gone?

They do bring a great bit of liveliness with them, though, and we keep pace, for a while, and then we kind of resemble the lizard at left.

Worn out and hanging by a thread.

It’s worth it though. I love telling the stories to them, the stories of faith and God’s power. In fact, it actually revives me quite a bit.

Thought in my next few posts I would revisit some of those stories with you all and maybe they’ll revive me enough to bite that guys kneecap.

Maybe they’ll encourage you too. I hope so.

Have you ever had one, a scary moment, where you realized, in an instant, that you had crossed a certain line, usually placed ambiguously, and there was no turning back, no ‘do-over’s.

These moments don’t have to be enshrouded with dark mysterious music, creaks, and screams. Often they come in the quiet moments of a conversation. Usually it is the surprise that gets you.

Isn’t that the way it is? “SURPRISE”!

I was just having a casual conversation over lunch with a missionary colleague from Burkina Faso the other day and the next thing I knew, while I was responding to a question, he took out a little note pad and started taking notes.

Terror gripped me.

Some of you may be laughing at this moment. You are enjoying the irony. You want to guffaw at the thought of me being quotable as you bask in the memories of the Marty of old. Yes, I find it truly ironic and very laughable as well.

Anyway, I trust Andy implicitly. It wasn’t a terror from potential entrapment, I have had those as well. It was, instead, the realization that he considered something I said worth remembering. That is a scary moment; when you become aware of the weight of your words.

Not everybody takes notes. A lot of people just listen and remember. Sometimes words not too well remembered can get us in grave danger. I think I prefer the note-takers because at least they are a visual reminder that you just might be quoted on that at a later date.

Experience creeps up on us. It has now been almost eleven years for us in Togo. We’ve been through and learned quite a bit, but still find ourselves lacking! To quote me is a risky move, although, just the thought that I might be quoted really brings me into check to consider my words before they escape me. In any consideration of me fulfilling the “mentor” / teacher role, though, I mentally reread James 3:1:

“Not many of you should presume to be teachers, my brothers, because you know that we who teach will be judged more strictly.”

So, forgive my hesitation, the next time you ask me a question. I’m just considering my options for reply.

]]> http://martykoonce.wordpress.com/2008/05/27/scary-moment/feed/ koonce http://martykoonce.wordpress.com/2008/05/21/from-retreat-to-reality/ http://martykoonce.wordpress.com/2008/05/21/from-retreat-to-reality/#comments Wed, 21 May 2008 20:37:47 +0000 koonce http://martykoonce.wordpress.com/?p=112

I love retreats and I loathe returning from retreats. Have you ever noticed that it is almost as if others sense that you’ve been recharged and they purposefully attempt to bring you back down off the mountain to …

reality.

I think maybe I have had it some wrong. I have looked at retreats from an incorrect angle. I usually had expectations of resting and returning with a profound increase in energy, physically ready to take on the world.

I am the father of four sons. I will probably be physically tired for a long time to come. If I base the good of getting away to a lonely place with God on how I feel physically, then as I am being hammered by the world on my return, I might be a little …

disappointed.

There has to be more to it than that. If I can change my perspective, though, and look a little more intuitively at the spiritual healing that comes from being refreshed on the mountain, then I will see …

strength for the coming days; faith that moves mountains; patience that can withstand the border crossing between Ghana and Togo; and love, his perfect love for me that drives out all fear.

That might just last a little longer than the troubles of the return and may even reshape…

reality.

So our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal. II Corinthians 4:17-18.

Reality according to Jesus. The world looks a bit different.

Aren’t we a good looking bunch!

I didn’t know for sure that I could, just sit and look, and listen. I could and I did.

And, I stood amazed, while sitting, of course.

The waves rolled in over the rocks so loudly that it could wake you up at night. The lightning lit up the sky on one night and on another there were so many stars, well, that it seemed I saw a few million new ones. It was incredible. It screamed, “GLORY!”

We are surrounded by God’s glory, but so often we don’t sit and take it in. It just bounces off of us and the moment is lost, because we aren’t looking for Him and his glory.

We are a bit busy for all that, reflecting and musing stuff.

I came across a phenomenal verse this week. I have seen it many times, but in the setting of Coconut Grove overlooking the Atlantic I tripped over it.

Christ in you, the hope of glory.

I just had to stop and say, “Excuse me?” “My actions, words, and very life could cry out, ‘glory’ just as dramatically as this diverse and impossibly beautiful setting on the coast of Africa.

Something to consider.

God is only hoping.