Babies, Babies, Babies

Today I spent time at the crisis baby nursery in our city. This is a project that cares for some of the smallest orphans in Malawi with the capacity to care for approximately 40 infants at a time.  At present there are 16 babies.  These infants are cared for during their crisis period while arrangements are made to place them with relatives or adoptive families.

Any of you who know me, know how much I have always loved babies.  What fun I had!  I WILL go back.

                   

Check my Facebook for an album containing more photos.

In Christ Alone

What a great devotional time I have enjoyed this morning.  I have been so encouraged by the declaration of this mighty hymn.  I don’t know how much of its effect is lost without the melody, but I trust that the words will ignite a spark of victory and assurance in you as it does in me.  It is one of my favorites.

IN CHRIST ALONE (Avalon)

In Christ alone my hope is found
He is my light, my strength, my song
This Cornerstone, this solid ground
Firm through the fiercest drought and storm
What heights of love, what depths of peace
When fears are stilled, when strivings cease
My Comforter, my All in All
Here in the love of Christ I stand

In Christ alone, who took on flesh
Fullness of God in helpless babe
This gift of love and righteousness
Scorned by the ones He came to save
‘Til on that cross as Jesus died
The wrath of God was satisfied
For every sin on Him was laid
Here in the death of Christ I live

There in the ground His body lay
Light of the world by darkness slain
Then bursting forth in glorious Day
Up from the grave He rose again
And as He stands in victory
Sin’s curse has lost its grip on me
For I am His and He is mine
Bought with the precious blood of Christ

No guilt in life, no fear in death
This is the power of Christ in me
From life’s first cry to final breath
Jesus commands my destiny
No power of hell, no scheme of man
Can ever pluck me from His hand
‘Til He returns or calls me home
Here in the power of Christ I’ll stand

On Friendship

A situation today gave me reason to ponder the meaning of friendship.  We use that word a lot, but what are its real implications?

A national pastor’s wife and I were in the store shopping.  As is part of her custom, she gestured to carry the shopping basket for me.  Though being uncomfortable with this practice, I have come to realize that for the sake of this lady’s honor, I must subdue my pride and allow her to do this for me.  I have resisted this from others in the past, only to be chided inwardly by their deflated countenance upon my rejection.            

You must understand that the African culture is very respectful of pastors, elders, and those they hold in high esteem.  Their means of expression for this is to render to one so honored, acts of service.  This is very refreshing and humbling and appreciated all at the same time – and certainly an element of courtesy that is lacking in my culture.

So why do I struggle with it.  Simply put – it is because I am white.  If I enter a store with another white person, and she gestures to carry my basket, I am not as hesitant.  But if I enter a store with a national, and she gestures to carry my basket, I pause.  Why?  Because as a white person, I do not want to propagate the attitude of supremacy on my part or servitude on hers.  I want to reciprocate the honor due my friend.  I want to maintain my self-reliance and independence and afford her the same.

So when we got in the car, I broached this subject. In sharing with her how very grateful I was for her act of kindness, I also shared with her how it made me feel.  She began to smile as she responded. 
“That is very interesting that you should say that,” she said.  “A gentleman in the store asked me if I work for you.  I told him, ‘No.’  He then asked what I was doing with you, and I told him that you are my friend.  His response: ‘Your friend?  Can a black person and a white person be friends?’”
There it was again – white.  That statement served as an exclamation point to my feelings.  Because the color of my skin is white, and the color of hers is not, the assumption by many is that we cannot be friends.
How can that be?  When I am laughing with a friend at a silly happening, celebrating the wedding of a friend on her special day, rejoicing with a friend at the birth of her child, embracing a friend who has just lost a loved one, receiving news of a terminal illness with a friend, laboring together with a friend to develop ministries to impact her community, or praying with a friend for a miracle that only God can perform – am I then white, while she is not?  At those moments and almost every other, I don’t see skin color.  I don’t pause to wonder if our differences dictate our level of relationship.  I simply choose to be a friend, and she likewise.
I suppose that for many, skin color will always be a barrier to true friendship.  I suppose there will always be those who resist the notion that who we are on the inside, is who we really are. 
Perhaps my view that we can be friends is slanted by the fact that my older brother was a Jewish carpenter, my other brothers and sisters are multi-ethnic, and I am not even sure that my Father bears any racial affiliation.  We are the family of God, and that alone affords us the luxury of friendships based on love, not skin pigmentation.  How I wish that all could see that.

 

 

 

 

Underestimated

There are at least three things that I had underestimated before coming to Africa.

The first is the hauling capacity of a bicycle. We have seen everything from babies to barrels and everything in between carried via bicycles in this country.  Who would have known?

The second is the effectiveness of flannelgraphs in this day and age.  For those of you who are not familiar with flannelgraphs, those are the little paper or cloth figures with felt-like properties on the back that cause them to stick to flannel.  They are used to tell Bible stories. These were very popular when I was a child but have long-since been replaced by more technologically-advanced mediums in the USA.  In our location stories come alive with these figures to children and adults who are not used to visuals used for story-telling.

The third thing I had underestimated is the appeal of the Jesus film.  I was so excited about this project when it first came out years ago.  The concept was great: produce a film telling the life of Christ and make it available to people groups around the world in their own languages.  I must admit that the film itself seemed less than quality to me when I first saw it, but watching it on this side of the world among people who have limited or no exposure to other movies or television shows, makes me realize what a valuable ministry tool this really is.  It is so incredible to sit out under the stars surrounded by men, women, boys, and girls who are mesmerized by the film and by the message it brings.

Oh, that I would always view things around me with fresh eyes and be ready to utilize each for spreading the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Missionary Field Retreat

Our team leader decided that it was time for our field to combine business with pleasure and scheduled a retreat on the shores of Lake Malawi at Danforth Yatching.  Any spot on the lake would offer a wonderful setting for such a meeting, but this was especially fun for our group.

Our team presently on the ground consists of Bill & Sharon Johnston, Larry & Rhonda Allen, John & Judy Young, and Gaylord & myself.  The Allens are just returning from furlough, and the Youngs are here working on construction projects.  It was so great to share in times of administration, devotion and recreation together.

       

As we left, we visited the site where the first missionaries to Malawi are buried.

As the local newspaper back home would add, “A great time was had by all!”