P.S.

African culture is actually very interesting, I’ve discovered; and African people are quite lovely. And living in Africa doesn’t automatically mean you’ll contract typhoid or dysentery. And the bugs really aren’t so bad.

Just wanted to share that with you…and bump the number of posts in 2009 up to 88, just because that’s a cool number. ;)

Happy New Year and God bless. =)

Questions and Answers – 12

What made you decide to go to Africa?

OK, I have a confession to make: growing up, I’d always considered Africa to be among the least interesting cultures of the world. Egypt, Persia, India, China, Greece, Rome, England – these locations had fascinating histories and alluring possibilities. But Africa? Nothing there but grass skirts and drums and – oh yeah, zebras, lions, elephants, giraffes. But you could go to any zoo for that, and skip the visit to a continent that swarmed with tsetse flies and reeked of malaria and yellow fever!

“Have you ever thought of joining the church’s mission committee?” asked my friend as we shared supper at our church’s 2004 Ladies’ Retreat. (My friend ended up moving to the mission field herself with her husband and their children just a few years later.) No, I’d never even really thought of the fact that our church had a mission committee, let alone that I could join it; but it seemed all I needed was an invitation, for suddenly I found myself on the committee!

Our mission chairman and his family had lived in Ghana for two years in the 1990s, and he planned a mission trip to Ghana Dec05-Jan06. As the committee helped him plan, his excitement became contagious; and as he challenged each of us to pray about being part of the short-term team, I found to my surprise that God wanted me to go. Seven of us ended up going, and as we flew out, the men on the team all knew exactly what they were going to do for our 2½-week visit, while the women on the team had absolutely no idea what role we would play. All we knew was that God was calling us to go, and so we went.

Well, the trip was beyond all expectation, to make an understatement, as God worked in and through us. As I was leaving, Pastor Tirumbu invited me to pray about coming back for a year.

I did pray, and that is why I’m ending 2009 in Ghana. Praise God for using a link of little events to bring about this current term of service! May He be glorified in all. =)

Watching God at Work (again)!

Thanks so much for your prayers for Daoud, who returned to Sunday school yesterday, and recited Ephesians 2:8-9 perfectly when we reviewed last week’s memory work. After the class, I pulled him aside: “Daoud, you obviously understand what we’ve been talking about in class, and you’ve obviously been thinking about it. Would you like to ask Jesus to be your personal Lord and Savior, which you said last week is the only way to get into heaven?”

“Yes, I understand everything,” Daoud replied, “and I see that Christianity is right; but I don’t think I can become a Christian. You see, I was born into Islam, so I have to be a Muslim.”

“Daoud,” I agreed, “You’re right. You were born a Muslim. The only way you could become a Christian would be if you were born again.” And I explained to him that wonderful concept Jesus gave us nearly two thousand years ago, the good news that will never grow old. We discussed how important it is to make sure we’ve made the right decision before we die, because we won’t get a second chance; and we talked about how God won’t accept excuses from anyone who chooses wrongly. Then I asked him again whether he’d like to invite Jesus to save him and be the Lord of his life…and Daoud said “yes”! It was a joy and a privilege to pray with this 12-year-old boy and hear him repeat aloud after me, ending with “I give you my life.” Amen!

Praise the Lord after all for assigning me to Sunday school. ;) His plans are ALWAYS the best!

Bringing in the Sheaves

The phrase has a very literal meaning in northern Ghana at this time of year.

Let’s praise the Lord for all His goodness to us, and for the great salvation He has provided through His Son and our wonderful Savior, Jesus Christ! And let's pray that many spiritual sheaves will be harvested in 2010 to His glory.

Have a merry Christmas. =)

Taxi Time – 3

The taxis in town really are decrepit. Most windshields appear to be held together by tape; many doors won’t open or close properly; and I can fasten the seatbelt about 15% of the time. Taxi drivers usually slow waaay down to cross speed bumps, probably because their vehicles would fall apart if jolted. Lest these factors leave you concerned for my safety, rest assured that we don’t usually top 20 mph, so things aren’t as dangerous as they might at first seem.

A few weeks ago something finally happened that I was surprised hadn’t happened before: the taxi in which I was riding simply stopped in the middle of the road. Sputter, sputter, stop. “Come on,” said an acquaintance who was on the same taxi, “Let’s get out and take another car.” Easier said than done – mine was a door that wouldn’t open from the inside. My traveling companion recognized my dilemma and came around to open my door from the outside before hailing another taxi for the two of us. This was the first time in months a man had opened a car door for me, so I wasn’t complaining too much. ;)

This morning I noticed that the taxi I boarded was particularly dilapidated. The driver hopefully shifted up to third, but at top speed we were whizzing along at about 8 mph (I’m guessing: forgot to mention another feature of these taxis, which is that 90% of the time the speedometer doesn’t work). “The clutch isn’t working today,” the driver explained to me conversationally. “I noticed your car didn’t really want to drive today,” I murmured, surprised that it was still operational. My thought came too soon, however: after I was dropped off, I noticed that the taxi didn’t drive off. It had finally succumbed to its many woes.

Note: None of the above is an exaggeration, except perhaps for the speed bumps: I’m giving you a very accurate account of the transportation available in town!

Sunday school

One of my official, formal titles in Ghana is “Sunday school Madame” – a little different from the simple “teacher” we have in the States, even as the class style is completely different. Here’s the general format the students follow:

1) Open with prayer
2) Sing action songs
3) Review the lesson from last week
4) Review the memory verse from last week
5) Report on the challenge from last week (homework-style assignment to be completed throughout the week; e.g. make a mark every time you obey your parents; make a mark every time you say a kind word to someone)
6) Listen to this week’s lesson (which, in Africa, is followed by the students asking the teacher questions about the lesson, and then the teacher in turn asking the students about the lesson…lots of repetition to make sure it’s understood!)
7) Learn this week’s memory verse
8) Get assigned a challenge for the coming week
9) Give offering
10) Say the grace and dismiss

I’m serving alongside an African Sunday school Madame, and she is wonderful at keeping order. Of course, her methods are again a little different from ours in the States: “If you don’t keep still, I will beat you!” She oversees most of the class activities: my responsibility is conducting #6, #7, and #8 above.

While I love children (as you might know), the position I’ve been asked to fill has frustrated me at times. The children don’t understand my English as well as adults do, and it’s not uncommon to finish a carefully-told story and find that I need to repeat it because no one understood what I was saying. Also, there’s no Sunday school rotation schedule at our small church, so I’m missing a year’s worth of sermons. =( However, my family continues to faithfully pray for me each week, and I try to serve as unto God, leaving the results in His hands. Some Sundays have been more encouraging than others…and this past Sunday was one of them!

We had two unsaved visitors – a boy, “Daoud,” and a girl, “Mona” – and the lesson was on Jairus’ daughter being raised/the woman with an issue of blood. As soon as the time for questions came, Daoud’s hand shot up. “Does this mean that if we just have faith, anything we trust for can happen?” What a great question! And when we went over Ephesians 2:8-9 for our memory verse, and I explained the meaning, he answered my question “What is the only way to get into heaven?” with “We must trust Jesus Christ as our personal Lord and Savior.” I told Daoud’s Christian mother afterward to please ask her son what he learned in class.

Please pray with me that God will save Daoud very soon if He’s not already. I’m thankful after all to be a Sunday school Madame. ;)

Another Post About Children

So I was waiting for Latif to finish his morning tasks – iron shirt, eat breakfast, behead chicken – and got to visit with his little neighbor children while waiting. The little brother and sister speak perfect English for their ages and are obviously well-loved. They prattled about all the things precocious children normally discuss, taking a brief break to see the chicken get beheaded (I stayed quietly behind, having seen plenty of that in my past already), and danced to the music they heard floating out the window from the radio.

Suddenly the radio began to play Christmas carols, and the little girl began to sing along about life forevermore because of Christmas Day. “Do you know what the song means?” I asked, and told them all about the Jesus Whose birth we celebrate on Christmas, and the eternal life He offers each one of us if we will only repent and believe.

May many in this city repent and believe this Christmas!

Ice Cream

A sweet friend of the ministry who’s visiting from the States decided to bless a nearby village with ice cream, and invited me to come along and see the distribution. =) We went to the ice cream warehouse and purchased 350 packets of ice cream, packed them into a cooler, and went off on our mercy mission.

It was such fun to share out the ice cream and see people’s reactions as many of them tried it for the very first time. Some of them were younger…

…and some of them (like the chief) were a little older.

The village is one in which our friends have established a church, so the distribution helped to build goodwill between the villagers and the church leadership. The chief reiterated that he wants the church to flourish long after he is gone: praise the Lord!

Just as a note of interest: this village is actually the first one in which I spent the night, and the tree in the first photo was our hotel. =)

The Fun Afternoon

My Muslim brothers showed up at the front door (the ones who’ve been teaching me the local language small-small, occasionally using my local-dialect Bible) and asked whether I’d like them to show me the neighborhood reservoir. “Let me grab my camera,” I replied, thinking it sounded as though the dam was right around the corner. Actually, it turned out to be at least two miles away. But you know I don’t mind long walks: and the boys were such fun company. “Latif” is 17 and “Halal” is 14; both are fascinated with cultural differences between Africa and America. At their request we sang our national anthems to one another, discussed our constitutional right to keep and bear arms, talked about trash pickup and farming techniques and much, much more.

The boys passed one tree and casually mentioned that its fruit was getting ripe. “What kind of fruit?” I asked; so Halal quickly scaled the tree to pluck some.

The fruit was rather dry, but sweet.

Latif loves to stage photos, as I found out. When at last we made it to the reservoir, he wanted me to fetch a pail of water so he could take a picture. As long as they didn’t ask me to carry it dripping dirtily on my head, that was fine. Knowing it would gross me out, Halal drew my attention to the fact that he was drinking the water. But I ended up grossing him out by pointing out the ducks and the fish, and asking where he thought their waste was going…yeah, I hope he doesn’t drink such filthy water again.

On the way back, we passed rice harvesters. “Would you like to help clear the threshing field?” Latif asked; so we stopped and asked the laborers whether we could borrow their tools and space for pictures. The boys had me clear away some stubble prior to sweeping the earth clean.

We moved on to another threshing field, where threshing was actually going on. The women pile up the dried rice stalks and use heavy sticks to beat the grain from the chaff. It’s fun as a novel activity for a photo op, but must quickly tire the woman who has to beat out rice for days on end during the harvest time.

Thump! A bat fell out of a tree. The boys said someone probably knocked it down with a slingshot, but not seeing the hunter, we picked it up (yes, I touched the bat =D) and the boys told me what sweet eating a bat makes. Hmm, I don’t think I want to find out for myself.

I showed the boys how to whistle with a blade of grass, and they showed me how to make miniature purses out of mango leaves. And they told me African jokes, some of which I got and some of which, honestly, I didn’t.

The whole outing took more than three hours, but was such fun. Please pray for Latif and Halal: they know that I’m a Christian, and that I want to see them saved as well. May God be at work in their lives!

It is well with my soul

But not so well, alas, with my body. For whatever reason, the mosque is once again awakening me at 4:00 in the morning, and I can’t get back to sleep: a great thing in regards to prayer, but not so good in regards to rest.

And then the harmattan and its attendant dry wind and dust are resulting in eyes that water at the slightest provocation. I’m taking allergy pills and using eye drops, but still find myself digging for my hanky several times each day. The onset of the tearing up is very random, and occasionally embarrassing. =D Will this be a way of life through March?

Furthermore, although I’m downing plenty of water each day, my throat is often cracking from dryness, and my nose is plugged –

All right, enough complaining. I’m just throwing this all out for prayer (especially on the sleep front: it’s bad when there are literally dark circles under the eyes!), but truly, all of that is very minor in comparison with God’s goodness in so many other ways each day. He protects, guides, and LOVES me! Praise His wonderful Name – indeed, it is well with my soul. =)

Stories from the Villages

Yussif (left) with Amos

“You shouldn’t even unload your equipment,” “Yussif” told Amos and his team as they prepared to unpack the paraphernalia related to showing the Jesus film at Yussif’s village (first village mentioned in November 18 post). “We’re all Muslims here: we’ve always been Muslims, and we’ll always be Muslims, so you’re wasting your efforts.”

This visit was the first village outreach effort in which one of Amos’ teammates was participating, and he was a little nervous at this “welcome” – maybe it would be best to just pack up and leave. Amos assured his fellow Christian that God had called them to reach this community: they had invested so much time, thought, and prayer into the evening’s activities that they wouldn’t be turned away by one threatening comment.

Yussif watched as my friends continued to set up for the evangelism event and a crowd began to gather. At last, when the movie began, he sat a little way apart, angry that the Christians were not dissuaded from proselytizing. As the film continued, however, he found himself increasingly intrigued by its message. At last Jesus was attacked by His adversaries, and healed an enemy whose ear had been cut off by one of the disciples. “If these things are true, then Jesus is like no one else!” Yussif thought. “Everyone needs to know about this Man!” As soon as the invitation was given at the end of the film, Yussif was the first to respond with a commitment to Christ Jesus.

And the second village, the one at which only five responded the night the film was shown? Well, more people are choosing Christ every week. When Amos visited them last week, he found that the chief has become a Christian! In a culture where chiefs’ examples are closely watched and emulated, this change of heart is a huge step toward open doors for the gospel. Amos conducted a church service that included taking an offering, and to the amazement of all, the chief placed a 10-cedi note (approximately $7) in the offering plate. Just to put this gift in perspective, the average villager earns 10-15 cedis a year at most. No doubt a chief makes a bit more, but nonetheless ten cedis represents a substantial gift! “Where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.” May the gospel be treasured in this village…and in many more surrounding communities!

Outreaches for the month of December are about to begin. It’s an exciting time to participate in the work through prayer!

And the prayers continue

Jason came to my office Friday evening in a real funk. He is not considering giving up his Christian faith, but he doesn’t understand why his father should be so antagonistic, or why God is letting him go through so much hardship. (Well, I can tell you one reason, which I didn’t have the heart to tell him: his family’s rejection is forcing him to make a sure choice for Christ…for the first few weeks after his conversion he wasn’t even telling Amos of his new faith, but now there’s no doubt about where he stands.) Anyway, he was so discouraged that I told him that I’ve been asking some of my friends in the United States to be praying for him. You have no idea what an encouragement it was for him to know that Americans who are complete strangers to him, yet his brothers and sisters in Christ, care about and pray for him. So on his behalf: thanks for all the prayers!

Jason asked me to request specific prayer for two things. He’s praying for a job, as he currently needs some means of self-support now that he’s without a house; and he’s praying that God would be merciful to him and not add any more to his burden of suffering at present, as he feels he’s currently at the limit of what he can bear. Indeed, may God be merciful to him and give him the needed grace for every trial he’s encountering! (Editorial note for additional prayer: Jason also needs to develop a better work ethic in order to secure a successful job. But he’s not two months into his Christian journey yet, so we won’t judge too harshly.)

Friday also brought another visitor to the office – surprise, surprise, Hassan dropped in, having read Genesis 1 with his Christian friend, and having told his father about his explorations with Christianity. His father wants to meet Mr. Joe and ask his own questions about the faith his son is investigating. Hassan also had a really insightful question: Why do Christians love each other more than Muslims love each other? We replied that we serve a God of love: we love Him – and others – because He first loved us. Isn’t it cool that the Christians Hassan knows demonstrate so much love that he can tell there’s a difference in their lives? “By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another” – John 13:35

May our lives similarly be showcases of God’s love…and may part of that love be lifting up these Ghanaian men in prayer to our Lord!

A little story from this past week (prayer needed)

Last Friday a taxi driver took me directly from my point of departure to my destination, and wouldn’t accept any payment. This time, when asked how we’d next meet, I was prepared to say “How about my office?” “Hassan” came by on Tuesday and renewed his proposals from the previous week, so I told him he’d need to talk to my African dad. We went over to Pastor Tirumbu’s office, where I made introductions: “Hassan, this is Pastor Tirumbu. Pastor, this is Hassan: he is a taxi driver who gave me a ride last week and wants to marry me.”

Pastor greeted Hassan cordially, and his first question was, “Are you a Muslim or a Christian?” He went on to describe the differences between how Christian and Muslim men treat their wives; to grill Hassan on his education and career (“How can you support my daughter on a taxi driver’s earnings? Do you know how expensive a white woman is to maintain?”); and to end with, “It’s not that I don’t love Muslims: we actually love Muslims deeply! It’s just that I can’t let my daughter marry one.”

“What he said is true,” I told Hassan as we left Pastor’s office. “We do care about Muslims, and we want them to go to heaven.” Then I told him what had recently been told me (isn’t God’s timing good?!): the Koran actually encourages people to read the Bible! We had a really great spiritual conversation which culminated in him taking my Bible.

He was back the next day, and this time Mr. Joe was present and took the lead in the conversation – describing the differences between the Koran and the Bible, establishing our guilt and how Jesus was the only One Who could take away our sins, and carefully outlining the costs related to becoming a Christian. At the very end, after Hassan had asked his questions, and made excellent comments such as, “Being clean on the inside is better than taking a bath!” Mr. Joe clarified, “I have to be Leah’s big brother and warn you that even if you became a Christian, she is off-limits: she came to Ghana to introduce men to Jesus Christ, not to marry them, so if you choose Christ, recognize that you are choosing Him, and not my little sister.”

Well, that didn’t deter Hassan at all, because yesterday he again dropped by for a visit! He told us that he remembered everything that had been shared the day before; that he felt all his questions were answered; and that he couldn’t sleep the previous night thinking through all the new information he’d received. Furthermore, he decided that he would involve his father in his thinking process, and that he would call a Christian friend to come over last night and read the Bible with him, since he struggles with reading English.

God is obviously at work in Hassan’s heart: please pray that he will clearly see the truth; that the conversations with his father would go well; that the Christian friend would truly be born again, and a support to Hassan at this time; and ultimately that Hassan would choose to give his life to Jesus Christ!

As always…thanks for your prayers. =)

Banku

Some of Mr. Joe’s and my friends, all university students, treated us to a very traditionally Ghanaian meal the day after Thanksgiving: banku with okra stew! Banku is a thickened, fermented corn paste (but not as fermented as kinkee, which is chalkier in texture and has a stronger flavor), and okra stew’s most notable feature is its sliminess.

There’s a chunk of chicken on the plate pictured above, but there are also pieces of white flab that are – believe it or not – boiled leather. The hide was carefully scraped clean of hair before being cut up and mixed into the stew. Cowhide doesn’t have much of a taste, but it has an awfully chewy texture.

At the end of the meal, I finally asked the Africans at the table how they were managing to eat the food without having stew dribble down their chins as they took their hands away from their mouths. One of the guys considered the question, then demonstrated the difference in how we’d been eating: where I’d been putting my fingers to my lips and simply depositing the food in my mouth, my friend had been putting his fingers into his mouth along with the food, licking off the fingers before withdrawing them from his mouth. So now you know how to politely eat slimy stew!

The above makes it sound as though I didn’t enjoy the meal, but actually I really did! The new flavors and textures were interesting, I didn’t mind the dribbles down my chin because no one else did, and most of all the fellowship was sweet. And the guys even did all the cleanup afterward: how much better can it get? ;)

Questions and Answers – 11

What are the duties of your job?

My main job duties at present are divided between office and kitchen.

Office work consists mainly of writing and editing: writing blog posts, typing up meeting minutes, and drafting letters and promotional items; editing grant proposals, correspondence, and miscellaneous documents for my officemate, Mr. Joe.

Our office is located in the administrative section of a conference center that also includes an auditorium, hotel , conference halls, dining facilities, etc. Every morning at 10:00 I check in with the kitchen to see whether they’ll need help that day. If so – perhaps 20% of the time they need my extra set of hands – I’m kept busy washing dishes, clearing and wiping tables, wrapping silverware in napkins, stocking coolers with sodas and juices, and supervising conference refreshment breaks. Kitchen work provides a change of pace, and gives me an opportunity to interact with more of my African co-workers. There’s also an intangible aspect to the kitchen work in that I’m encouraging my African brothers and sisters in their jobs, and showing them that I’m not afraid to get my hands dirty alongside them. A portion of the proceeds made from the conference business goes into funding mission efforts (in case you’re wondering where the ministry connection comes in). The kitchen feeds me lunch most days free of charge, so I’m glad to have a little way to give back to them. =)

A Ghanaian-Style Thanksgiving

Clockwise from bottom right: sweet potatoes, deviled eggs, chicken, bread, stuffing, carrot salad, corn, ham-and-beans, green beans, coleslaw

Yesterday Mr. Joe and I hosted a dozen Ghanaian friends for Thanksgiving. We tried to mimic American dishes as closely as possible, but some items just couldn’t be exactly replicated. We had to be satisfied with Ghanaian-style chicken in lieu of turkey (and satisfied we were!!); we sautéed slivered almonds and onions to top the green beans instead of French-fried onions; and alas-and-alack, there were no marshmallows to top the sweet potatoes. For dessert we had strawberry jello with bananas, and fruit salad made of bananas/pineapple/papaya (mmmm!). The bread from a local bakery was the only baked item on the table, since we had no access to an oven.

Some of the dishes were a little strange for some of our friends…but most of them were pretty satisfied with the obruni food. ;) I have thoroughly enjoyed the Ghanaian food here (and in fact am getting treated to a very traditional dish tonight: banku), but a little taste of home was pretty sweet too.

Happy Thanksgiving! Truly we have much for which to be thankful. =)

It was bound to happen

Jason’s father finally heard that he’d become a Christian, and under the advice of Jason’s uncle – who warned the father that one day all the children in the family would become Christians if harsh measures aren’t immediately instituted – banished his son from the home. Thank the Lord that Jason had the courage to acknowledge his new faith, and the desire to stand firm. As he informed Mr. Joe and me of this new development yesterday, he also revealed that for over a month he has not been eating anything served in his father’s house, lest one of his own family members try to poison him for becoming a Christian.

We read about situations like this that take place all over the world, so it doesn’t come as a surprise to Mr. Joe or me; but knowing such things happen doesn’t make it any easier to observe, and our telling Jason that such reactions are to be expected doesn’t make it easier for him to live through. It certainly doesn’t seem to help when Amos marches into our office with a big grin and says, “Don’t worry, my brother. Our father just won’t listen. God will take care of you, but I don’t know how.” I tried to offer encouragement from John 16:33 and similar verses, and through my tone of voice conveyed the sympathy that was in my heart, the feeling of “God, does it have to happen this way? Is there any way his circumstances can be turned around?” God later convicted me that I need to just release Jason into His care and stop wanting to shield him from the harshness of life. Once again I am moved to thank the Lord that He is God and I am not.

All the same, please do pray for Jason: may God be merciful to him at this time and fill him spiritually even as his life is being emptied physically.

Thanks for your prayers for our brother in the Lord!

This is why I had to walk home….

(As opposed to taking the taxi)

There’s one spot on my walk home that I’m growing to love more and more: a place where perhaps twenty children are within earshot. Every time I pass these days, one of them will notice me and start to excitedly exclaim, “White person! White person!” Others will hear and swarm out of surrounding buildings and alleys, pressing about me, grabbing at my hands, scratching at my freckles, pulling at my hair. I love it, and am carried along with them, laughing and feeling like the Pied Piper of Hamelin in the very best way.

One of the boys has started to pay me short visits at my worksite. This past Friday, he stopped by with some of his friends, and informed me that his mother had given birth last week: would I come and see the baby?

Would I?! The very next day I left work early – it being Saturday, after all – and was met at the usual spot by all the children. As they swept me along, off the main road into the mass of hovels behind the shops, I had to mentally pinch myself: “I’m really in Africa, surrounded by children who are inviting me into one of their homes to visit a six-day-old baby!”

The mother handed the child to me as soon as I entered the room; and the whole time I congratulated her and admired her new little one, children crowded around the doorway and at the dim window, calling from time to time for my attention, which I always gave them. Do you realize that I was probably the first Christian to see the baby and pray over him in Jesus’ Name? What an awesome privilege!

Right now I’m planning to give out candy and Christian literature to the children of this neighborhood for Christmas. Please pray that God will open hearts and lives to His good news, and that I’ll remain sensitive to areas of potential ministry that He’s opening up to me.

Note: an older brother showed me the pencil that was used to darken the baby’s eyes; and the head and arms were dusted with flour. I was told these were for “protection,” but couldn’t tell you whether said protection is physical or spiritual or both.

The Harmattan is Here

Every November the Harmattan begins in West Africa: a dry wind that brings tons of dust southward from the Sahara. Visibility becomes quite poor, noses clog, eyes water (not so pleasant); but at least temperatures drop (very pleasant). After several weeks of temperatures in the 90s and 100s, it’s delightful to experience the 70s at day and the 60s at night.

The sunrises and sunsets these days are gorgeous through the layers of haze: looking at the sun through such a thick atmosphere can’t really damage the eyes, can it? ;)

Unfortunately, this year’s Harmattan started a day too early. The skies were clear on the 16th, but choked with dust a mere twenty-four hours later, meaning that when I went out to view the famed Leonid show on the 17th, I could only faintly make out the brightest stars, and saw not one meteor. I went out three times and gazed upwards, but the heavens remained silent.

Dust or ice? Haze or snow? Guess I’ve got a few months to figure out which winter weather I prefer. =)

Praise the Lord!

A team of my friends visited three completely new villages last week (meaning that these villages had never before been reached with the Gospel) and held an evangelistic outreach in each one. A total of 57 people came to Christ: 28 in the first village, 5 in the second, 24 in the third. It was exciting to pray for their efforts as they went forth, and to hear how God had prepared people’s hearts to receive the good news.

Pastor Tirumbu didn’t want me to go on these initial trips because he wanted to make sure people were drawn by the Gospel, not by the notoriety of a foreign visitor. Once the churches are more established, there might be an opportunity for me to visit and encourage the new believers. Meanwhile I’m honored to participate in prayer, look at the pictures my friends took, and rejoice with them in their work for God.

Almost two thousand years after Jesus lived on earth, there are still places that are unreached. The people in these locations just need someone to go and tell them: it’s as simple as that! The eternal destiny of 57 people was changed last week because Ghanaian Christians took the time to visit them.

“How can they believe in the one of whom they have not heard? And how can they hear without someone preaching to them? And how can they preach unless they are sent? As it is written, ‘How beautiful are the feet of those who bring good news!’ ” – Romans 10:14-15

Please pray for these new churches (which Amos visited on Monday to encourage and establish the new believers) and for my friends who are equipped with the language skills and the passion to reach these and many other area villages for Christ.

Village Work (continued)

In answers to the questions left in the comments section on the last post:

1) A toilet block is a structure that is divided into two parts (for men and women) and contains simple toilet stalls. Of course, the toilets that are used in the village aren’t necessarily equipped with running water. The deep hole in the corner is what’s used, and these stalls are bring-your-own-toilet-paper destinations. Having people use these toilets instead of the great outdoors keeps disease-causing agents contained and makes the surroundings much more hygienic. Without going into too much detail, these toilets are surprisingly pleasant to use (surprising because you expect you’ll really have to rough it out in the bush), and now it’s enough said! =D

2) The rainy season is for 5-6 months, meaning that there are 6-7 straight months in the year with no precipitation whatsoever. The rainfall during the rainy season is pretty heavy, and because it will be dry for so much of the year, it’s important to capture whatever water can be harvested while the weather is wet. Since the water collector is receiving water from the entire surface area of the school roof, it can get pretty full.

3) Believe it or not, ministry to these villages began only in January! A lot has been accomplished in ten months: praise the Lord!


On a completely different note, please continue to pray for Jason, who’s going through some struggles at present. His friends have found out about his new faith, and have begun to give him a hard time for his switch to Christianity, accusing him of receiving money in exchange for converting. “Come with me to church, and see whether I get any money,” he challenged them; but still, it’s not easy to spend over thirty years in one religion – which affects one’s entire life in this culture – and change one’s way of thinking overnight. May God continue to guide and guard Jason at this time!

Village Work

Another religion has held sway for centuries in the surrounding villages, and Satan isn’t ready to cede territory too quickly. In the villages we visited, Christians aren’t welcomed as such, and so need to use subtler means to win people’s hearts.

Here’s a list of some of the benefits our ministry partner has brought or is bringing to the seven villages we visited:

* Schools, including hot lunches for all schoolchildren
* Water sources (wells and/or rain collectors)
* Toilet blocks
* Micro-enterprise loans to help women start small businesses
* Female goats for children (proceeds from the goats – from the sale of offspring and milk – can be used for school fees/supplies, etc.)

Two of the villages currently have churches; may God open the hearts of people in the remaining five villages to welcome the good news into their communities as a result of the good work that is already being done.

The school's gutters pipe all rainfall into the water collector on the right.

As Always

My favorite aspect of village ministry is interacting with the children. It’s fun to know more and more of their language so I can exchange greetings with them and ask each one his or her name.

Our village trip was a fact-finding mission: we went to see the ministry work that is being done in each location, and interview village elders about their reactions to the work and suggestions for future development. These interviews were important; but as you can see, the little one on my lap found the process a bit wearying. ;)

For the record, although each village could identify further areas of need, each one was incredibly grateful for the work being done by our ministry partners. Village representatives said things such as, “Before they came, we felt as though we were living in a hole,” “The gap between the time before they came and now is so long,” and “Our children no longer feel isolated.”

Guess I’ll have to write another post about the kind of work in which our ministry partners are involved! Stay tuned….

More on Ghana’s Roads

Vehicles weren’t the only traffic we met as we traveled along.

We also had to keep an eye out for livestock that darted out from time to time from the tall grass lining our route. I was thankful NOT to be in the driver’s seat on the trip!

OK, so the roads in Ghana aren’t always the best

These are some shots from our recent village trip…and this isn’t even the worst time of the year for driving. Just imagine what the journeys are like at the height of rainy season!

Yet our Ghanaian brother and sister who acted as our hosts travel these roads each week – by motorbike! – to visit the seven villages to which they took us, and share Christ’s love.

Please pray for their ministry, and for their safety as they traverse these roads!

Village Photos

This isn’t a National Geographic photo shoot, I mused when I first saw mud huts up close.

This isn’t a two-week safari.

This is real life for the people who live here, the only life they will ever know.

Robert Moffat famously said, I have seen, at different times, the smoke of a thousand villages – villages whose people are without Christ, without God, and without hope in this world.

Yesterday I was part of a team that visited seven villages. On that one day, in those seven villages, there were two funerals. People are passing into an eternity on a daily basis without Christ, without God, and without hope.

The harvest is plentiful but the workers are few. Ask the Lord of the harvest, therefore, to send out workers into his harvest field. – Matthew 9:37-38

Because Two Languages Aren’t Enough

I’m about to launch into learning a THIRD language today: Arabic!

Although I did learn a little Arabic as a child living in Egypt, my mind is reeling at the thought of trying to understand another language while still grappling with two African tongues. =D Please pray for my mind to work quickly – and for my demeanor to bring honor to Christ. The Arabic instructor is a devout Muslim who, when I was introduced to him, refused to make eye contact with me (but interacted quite naturally with Mr. Joe, who will be studying alongside me). May my heart seek to glorify God and not cause offense, rather than take offense at being treated as Islam treats its women. =)

God is good ALL the time, and ALL the time God is GOOD!

That’s HOW much?

The cedi and the pesewa take the place of the dollar and the cent in Ghanaian currency, and are worth about 70% of their American counterparts at present. The funny thing about the cedi is that two years ago, Ghana’s government took four zeros off its bills, turning a 10,000-cedi bill into a 1-cedi bill. The populace has had a hard time making this adjustment, and it’s not uncommon to ask what something costs and be told “3,000.” Ah, that would be 3,000 units of the old currency, which would translate into 30 pesewas of the new money…or about 21 cents.

Last week I was getting a price quote for a friend, and was told that depending on the materials used, the cost would be “between 400 and 600.” Between $280 and $420, I made the quick mental calculation – ouch! Thank the Lord for a friend who was walking with me that day and saw my expression. “That’s 400,000 to 600,000,” he clarified: 40-60 new cedis, or $28-$42. MUCH more reasonable!

I tell you, between this kind of math and the language skills, there’s no hope of mental atrophy. =D Thanks for your prayers as I continue to struggle with the language acquisition – such an important endeavor, and such a challenging one for me!

Well, at least it doesn’t stink by this wall

The word in question is blocked out simply because I want this blog to be free from vulgarity; suffice it to say that an American would never think of using this very public location for the forbidden purpose.

Questions and Answers – 10

What’s the church like that you attend?

God has placed me in a temporary church home full of dear people whom I love, and who love me. It is a joy to arrive each Sunday morning and exchange affectionate smiles, greetings, and hugs with my brothers and sisters in Christ. It’s a small church: there have been as many as sixty in attendance, though one rainy morning we were fewer than twenty.

Because I teach in the Sunday school, I haven’t participated in too many church services. However, this seems to be the general order of things on a typical Sunday morning:

1) We begin with the “Morning Dew,” a guided Bible study on some selected theme or passage of Scripture. This time is interactive, as the leading elder invites members of the audience to read the passage(s) aloud, share any observations, and answer questions.
2) A church elder next guides us into intercessory prayer, throwing out topics for prayer that leave the audience murmuring in beautiful harmony, rising and falling in volume together. When John talks about the prayers of the saints being like incense in Revelation, I think he is referring to African Christians’ prayers. ;)
3) The singing portion of the service consists of three distinct parts: “praise” (lively tunes that have people dancing in joy before the Lord), “worship” (slower pieces that are sung reverently), and hymns (there are always two). The songs are multi-lingual and are accompanied by drums (western and African), tambourines, and a keyboard.
4) Offering is a livelier affair here than it is in the States, as a collection basket is placed up front and we dance past it row by row, dropping in our money as we pass.
5) We welcome our visitors, make announcements – there are no church bulletins! – and sing “Happy Birthday” to all who celebrated their birthdays within the past week.
6) Two hours into the service, the sermon finally starts, running about half an hour.

Stay tuned for another post, because the Sunday morning service is only one aspect of what goes on in this little church. I love and miss my church home in the States…but know that when I leave, I’ll miss this church too.

For All Those Who Were Wondering

Yes, Jason actually prayed in our office to receive Christ last Tuesday – sorry if that wasn’t clear. And yes, he came to church this past Sunday. He intends to come back, and he really needs your prayers at this time of transition: as someone without a high school education and without a job, he is still dependent on his parents for his living, even though he is in his 30s. Combine these realities with the fact that Africans are much less individualistic than Americans, and much more dependent on their extended families and communities for decisions and finances – easy for us to philosophize about and discuss, but hard for us to truly grasp and understand – and you’ll see that he is facing decisions common to many new believers around the world, but foreign to us.

Jason has been to our office twice this week: the first time we gave him a Bible, and the second time he came with a list of questions based on his reading thus far, from “Why does Jesus say we should love our enemies? How is that possible?” to “Why are Muslims’ prayers silent, while the people in church prayed aloud?” (as they do in Africa). Mr. Joe gave him lesson one of a discipleship course that the two will complete together on Saturdays, so pray for them as they launch into that tomorrow.

It’s exciting to see Jason’s eagerness in his new-found faith, as he voluntarily exclaims “I love Christ” or asks whether he can pray aloud in his native tongue. Let’s pray that his heart will be soil which will bring forth fruit a hundred-fold from the Word he has heard and accepted!

Fufu!

What makes fufu such a treat – its great taste, or the labor-intensive process needed to fix it? Fufu is a delicacy in this region, and is generally reserved for special occasions. Let me walk you through how to make some for your next party.

Step 1 – Cook up cassava and plantain (separately) until soft; cut into small chunks.


Step 2 – Starting with one of these ingredients, put pieces into a mortar one by one while a friend pounds the pestle. S/he (yes, plenty of men do this part) will pound the food in a slow rhythm so that you have time between the downstrokes to drop in new pieces or fold over the sticky mass so it will be well kneaded. Keep your hand wet so that the food sticks to itself, not to you. Repeat with the other ingredient. If you are preparing for a large party, you may need to perform Step 2 a few times with each ingredient so that you end up with several globs (like my technical terminology?).

Step 3 – Put one glob of each ingredient in the mortar; your friend will pound these together as you mix them by hand between the downstrokes. Again, keep your hand wet; be sure to take out any fibrous pieces that you feel as you work the dough.

Step 4 – Separate the resulting fufu into single servings; ladle stew into each bowl and enjoy!

Note: fufu is extremely filling! Take a small first serving and see whether you’re still hungry before you go back for seconds.

Questions and Answers – 9

Have there been any interesting language or cultural misunderstandings you’re up to sharing?

A fellow staff member exchanged greetings with me one morning, and I gave appropriate replies to his “Good morning,” “How are you?” and “Did you sleep well?” “How is…?” he asked, and recognizing the “how is” part of his question, I gave the reply, “Just fine.” “No, no,” he reproved me. “I asked you how your husband is. But you don’t have a husband, do you?” “No,” I humbly replied, and had him teach me how to say “I don’t have a husband.” “That was a trick question,” I accused him, and his eyes just twinkled.

Would you believe he tripped me up on the very same question two days later? But third time’s the charm, and I finally got it right!


Questions that are inappropriate in America are thoroughly appropriate here. I can’t keep count of how often I’ve been asked my age or why I haven’t yet gotten married (and if weight was something Africans worried about – they don’t, rather refreshingly, and are just as happy fat as not – I’m sure I’d get questioned on that too!), and as I was discussing this with Abba one day, he pointed out that there are other things which are offensive in America which aren’t here. “For example, if I say ‘---- you!’ that’s not a bad thing here, but Americans say it is.” “Abba!” I exclaimed in shock. “Yes, that’s a very bad word! Don’t use it!!” “But ‘----’ even appears in American movies,” he pointed out, “so I just don’t understand why it’s so offensive.” “Yes, but movies get a very bad rating if they use that word,” I declared. “Hmm. Well, when we say ‘---- you!’ we’re just joking with you,” he assured me. “You don’t have keep saying it,” I pointed out, regaining my sense of humor.

It turned out to be a good thing Abba related this information to me, however, as the very next day a sweet-as-can-be girl on staff used it when talking with a guy in my office. Thank the Lord that I knew not to be offended or shocked at her vocabulary. NOT that I plan to add it to my vocabulary at ALL!

Later on the same week, some boys were telling me how the thumbs-up sign is very offensive here. “Really?” I exclaimed, unconsciously giving it. “This is bad?” Yes, they assured me. “Well, this is just a way of expressing that something is positive,” I said, unconsciously demonstrating the sign again. “So if you ask me how something is going, I would just do this; what do you do?” As I kept repeating the sign by way of demonstration, I suddenly realized that it is so totally non-offensive to me, I was using it without a second thought. And that’s what it had been like for Abba when he kept swearing at me!

Note: Questions 6-11 were all provided by one dear friend who was curious about different aspects of life here that hadn’t necessarily been addressed on this blog yet. You too can ask questions – I welcome your ideas for blog material. =)

Watching God at Work!

It was 10:00 this past Tuesday and my phone rang, announcing that I had a visitor. Sure enough, it was Jason. “Lord, please give me wisdom!” was all I could pray as I escorted him into the office. And God was so gracious – almost immediately we were discussing spiritual topics, and Mr. Joe was entering the conversation too, and Jason was listening intently to the two of us and asking very good questions. God had equipped Mr. Joe with knowledge of the Koran and the Hadith, and He had equipped each of us with the ability to pray when the other was talking. We covered sin and death and the Cross, and Jason questioned everything until he understood.

Jason began to tell me how worried he is about me walking alone through town, and vividly recounted the story of another white woman who got attacked. As he wrapped up his horror story, he said, “Leah, I’m just warning you. If I do not tell you of the danger, then I am only loving you through my teeth, not from my heart.” Wow, talk about a divine opening! “Jason!” I pounced on his line, “That is the kind of love Mr. Joe and I have for you! We see the danger you are in if you die without Christ in your life, and if we do not warn you to trust Jesus, we love you only through our teeth, not from our hearts.” A little later I asked him, “You say you like to listen to sermons sometimes on the TV; you say you’ve read the Bible sometimes; we’ve been talking to you about Jesus, and we know Amos has been talking to you about Jesus. What more do you need to help you with your decision about Jesus?” “Mr. Joe, she is making things very hot for me, isn’t she?” was his aside reply, and Mr. Joe simply reminded him that there is a cost to following Christ. After he’d given a few examples of possible repercussions, and Jason had said that he wouldn’t be bothered by any of those if he knew he was doing what was right, Mr. Joe asked him what was preventing him from praying to receive Christ, and – Jason agreed that he’d like to do so! =D

Jason left our office shortly after noon, and as he took his leave he commented that God is so great, because he had come to my office for one purpose, and found that God had a different purpose for him that day!

Praise God with me for this answer to the prayers of so many. We are just little pieces of God’s beautiful puzzle: to Him be all the praise and glory! Please pray that He will protect and nurture Jason at this critical time.

Thanks for the part you are playing through prayer. Nothing God is accomplishing through me would happen apart from that. Please continue praying with me for the other friends-that-I’ve-made-on-my-walk: may Jason simply be the firstfruits of many who will come to eternal salvation in this city!

Long But Worth It

The main purpose of my walks home has always been to establish relationships along the way that God might use to bring people to Christ…if not through me during my time in Ghana, then perhaps through a future contact with another Christian. The efforts to learn the language and converse with the people, the miles through the heat – yes, there’s a side benefit of exercise, but the main motivation is to reach people for Christ.

“Jason” met me on my second walk through town. Right from the start he has been an intense fellow – reaching out to shake my hand and then holding it tightly while looking fixedly into my eyes and earnestly saying such cheerful things as “Leah, you shouldn’t make too many friends in this town; be careful.” He wasn’t giving me any advice that he doesn’t follow himself, as he tends to be a very guarded fellow. While most men in town will introduce themselves and quickly follow up with “Are you married? Will you marry me?” it was some weeks into our acquaintance that he asked, “By the way, Leah, are you married?” He accepted my “No” thoughtfully and didn’t give any immediate feedback.

Around this time Abba told me that I can always ask a man why he wants to be my friend; and getting a bit weary of Jason’s intensity that always seemed to be dancing around an issue and never arriving, I determined that next time I would put the question to him. God’s timing is so good, because the very next day I walked up with this question in mind, and he casually mentioned, “Oh, by the way, did you know that ‘Amos’ is my brother?” That stopped me in my tracks: if he was my fellow-Christian’s brother, I certainly couldn’t try to end the acquaintance. “Lord, You are somehow at work in Jason’s life – help me to discern the part I need to play.”

This past Monday Jason and Amos came by the office I share with a fellow American, Mr. Joe. Amos announced that it was Jason’s birthday, and then in front of his brother stated that it was very important that we pray for Jason and try to help him become a Christian. After Jason left, Amos turned to me with his brother’s earnestness and urged, “Please do everything you can to help him become a Christian. He likes you, Leah.” All I could do was pray, because helping someone go from liking me to liking my Savior involves a change of heart that only God can bring about!

That evening I walked home again, and this time as I passed Jason, he joined me and accompanied me for half a mile or more. He kept saying things like “Leah, I told my brother I will come to church, but I said that only because of you” – and that’s one of his less pointed comments. God was continually gracious, because every time Jason said something like this, we passed someone I was able to greet in the local tongue, breaking the flow of conversation; I would turn back to Jason and somehow be able to turn the talk to spiritual things.

We passed a sign with the words “Born Again,” and I pointed it out to Jason. “Today is your physical birthday; but I want you to know that my prayer for you is that before I leave Ghana, I will celebrate your spiritual birth.” He’d never heard the phrase before, and I gave him a very thorough explanation. At last he took leave, but held my hand as always, looked at me intensely as always, and said, “Leah, we have very important matters to discuss about ourselves. I will come and see you tomorrow.”

To be continued….

Questions and Answers – 8

Are there certain times when you have to wear “local” garments?

Yes indeed! Fridays are “African wear” days in Ghana, when people the country over wear clothes made from beautiful African cloths. Businessmen and women who wear suits and collared shirts throughout the week will revert to African shirts and dresses on this day. At present I have a grand total of two outfits made from African prints, and they’ve bravely been sharing the duty, taking turns from week to week.

Funerals are important occasions in Africa, and there are prescribed clothes to wear at such events. One wears red and/or black to a memorial service (the red symbolizes how one’s eyes have been weeping…although I do have to say that the official color is more orange than red) and black on white to the church Thanksgiving service that takes place on a later day. My family wanted to see what my custom-made funeral outfits look like, so this particular Q&A gives a great excuse to share those pictures. ;)

With Abba - matching fabrics

Note: being out of town for a funeral + having no internet access upon my return = a long break between blog posts. Don't forget that if there is ever a long spell without posts, it probably means that I need prayer for electric and/or internet service to be restored. ;)

Questions and Answers – 7

Are there any textbooks for learning the language, or do you have to pick it all up through conversation?

A friend gave me a few yellowed pages, stapled together, that provide some translations between English and the local tribal tongue; however, I’ve not found it overly helpful, as it provides translations for random phrases such as “They will go to England next year,” “Is the Independence Square the most attractive sight in Accra?” and “Are there many executioners?” These are all verbatim from the phrasebook, and hardly conversational in my opinion.

So I rely on what people are willing to teach me…and thank the Lord, they’re willing! My language instruction began with a fellow staff member who was incredibly patient: he would tell me a word I should learn in both the local dialect and in Twi, repeating each several times slowly until I could say it back to him perfectly (or at least understandably); then I carefully wrote down the resulting sounds in my plain spiral-bound notebook whose cover has just fallen off.

As I walk along the streets, I greet people and let them engage me in conversation. If they say a word I don’t understand, I’ll tell them so – and if they want to take the time to instruct me, I’ll write down my new word so I can review it later.

Two boys in the neighborhood have come over a few times to teach me some words. These brothers are Muslim, and it’s very cool because I’ve been able to have them use my local-dialect Bible to teach me some words. ;) Also, Abba has been teaching me Twi “kakra kakra,” aka small-small. My memory is not the best, so just because I’ve been told a word and its meaning doesn’t mean I’ll remember it…but “meyirimeho,” I’m trying!

Questions and Answers – 6

How do the local people view Americans?

Praise the Lord that He stationed me in a place where America and her people are viewed very positively! It’s not unusual to see American flags printed on shirts or flapping in miniature from car windows, and people are consistently excited to hear that I’m from the U.S.

President Barack Obama paid a state visit just a few weeks after my arrival, and Ghanaians were so excited to pay honor to an American president. Unaware of his policies (Ghanaians are far more socially conservative than the dignitary they were hosting), the people here loved the fact that America has a black president who chose to visit their country. I frequently see President Obama’s face on miniature American flags around town, or see him smiling from t-shirts or bumper stickers.

America seems to be viewed by many Ghanaians as the Promised Land. Everyone wants me to assist him or her in getting to America. I’ve come up with the stock response, “I wish I could take all my friends to America! However, even if you can’t ever make it to America, be sure you make it into heaven. Heaven is MUCH better than America, I assure you!” If a thoughtful person wants to pursue the conversation, I’ll explain how the average Ghanaian is actually happier than the average American, how there’s as much sin in America as in Ghana, and how as a result there’s no place on earth that will fulfill all our desires…but there’s a Person Who will do so. ;)

Please pray with me that people’s interest in me as an American will lead to interest in my Savior!

Our Running Gag

Every time I walk home from work, I pass the house where these children live; one of them usually notices me and alerts the others, and they all line up to hail me and bask in my attention…as of course I bask in theirs. =)

The little fellow on the left asked me a random question the first time he saw me: “Where is your baby?” “I don’t have a baby,” I replied, and said the first thing that came to mind as I looked at his darling little face: “Would you like to be my baby?” He grinned broadly and nodded. Now every time he sees me he eagerly asks me where my baby is, just to hear me renew the offer that he can be my baby if he’d like.

“Red, brown, yellow, black, and white, they are precious in His sight. Jesus loves the little children of the world!” And so do I!!

Typical Conversation

When I reached home after walking from the office last week, I was delighted to realize that only two or three times did I have to tell someone that I didn’t understand him or her. God helped me to parry all the other conversational gambits that came my way. =D

Here is a sampling of the kind of conversation I carry on throughout the streets of the city…if someone wants to get more involved (ask me to get him a gift; ask me to take him back to America with me; ask me to give him my contact information – I never give more than an email address!), he has to revert to English.

Me: Good afternoon!
Man: OK! How is it where you came from?
Me: OK.
Man: How did you sleep?
Me: I slept well.
Man: Where have you come from?
Me: I’ve come from my work.
Man: How was your work?
Me: It was fine.
Man: Where are you going?
Me: I’m going to such-and-such a neighborhood.
Man: To such-and-such a neighborhood! Oh, that is far: why don’t you take a taxi?
Me: Exercise! [The one word I say in English: so far everyone has understood]
Man: Oh, OK. Will you come again?
Me: I will go and come.
Man: God keep you safe on your journey.
Me: Amen! God will grant us another day (their way of saying “good night”).
Man: Amen!
Both of us: Bye-bye!

Women don’t usually interact with me as extensively as the men, although they can be every bit as amused to hear their language on my lips. Often I’m greeting a group of men, and several of them will call out comments at the same time; then I pick which questions I answer based on what I recognize (which does help to cut down the number of times I have to say “I don’t understand”).

It is a lot of work (for me) to learn the language, but amazingly rewarding as I see the joy it brings to people’s faces. How I wish you could invisibly accompany me and observe me interacting with all my new friends. =)

Questions and Answers – 5

“What’s the most memorable marriage proposal you’ve received?”

A traditional cultural dance troupe came to my workplace to perform a few of their routines. Afterward, one of the drummers (#1) invited me over to bong on his drum a bit. Then he called a friend over (#2) and before I knew it the three of us were the center of everyone’s attention…and there were probably at least 20 people standing around, including dancers, drummers, and fellow staff!

#2 began to speak rapidly in the local language. “I don’t understand,” I protested in the tribal tongue – technically true since I didn’t know the words, though I could tell very well where the speech was headed. “I don’t understand.” “Do you love me?” #1 interposed in English. “Will you marry him?” #2 chimed in. “He is a good boy.”

I was highly embarrassed for poor #1, and in front of all those watching eyes shared that I wasn’t ready to get married that day but would be glad to be his friend. The poor guy looked so sad the rest of the time, and I’ve determined that next time there’s such a public offer, I’ll just say that I’m already in love [with a Lord Who would NOT want me to marry a Muslim =D].

As long as we’re on this subject, here is an email I got at a special account I’ve set up for all the Africans I meet who ask for my contact information. I’ve changed my "friend’s" name, but the rest is exactly as he wrote it. (He means “the other day” where he writes “there other they.”) This particular writer has a wide smile and is probably just about 18.

Hi my dear friend how are u and how is work? my dear friend it me your friend Mwadana the one who make friendship with you there other they you were from work at the road . please my dear i miss you so much can you let me see you again please i want to see you. but i was very happy about you how you were talking the language i will also like to teach you more about the language. Leah i miss you so much if you can also give me your phone number take care Leah and keep yourself from dangers hope to hear from you soon good day

Finally, a friend’s comment in a recent message on the beauty saloon made me realize that my “unusual evangelism opportunity” was NOT my first invitation to go on a date since arriving. Just a few days before, a man had joined me and kept pace for half a block or so, then said he was going to stop for a beer, and would I like to join him?

Life in Africa is never dull.

The Side Ministry

Neither Africa nor America is perfect when it comes to social values. Polygamy is widespread in Ghana, but divorce is rampant in the States. Social workers can be too intrusive in America, but Ghanaian children are often subject to cruel canings that leave them badly bruised.

My little Christian friend “Atessa” – the schoolgirl whose taxi fare I paid – visited me at the house soon after we’d met. At first she answered my gentle getting-to-know-you questions briefly, but suddenly the words came pouring forth and she talked for several minutes without interruption!

Atessa is a half-orphan who lives with her uncle and aunt and has not seen her mother in four years, nor met the three half-siblings who have been born since she came north. Of course, I am being told only Atessa’s part of the story, but she says the aunt wishes Atessa were gone so the aunt’s own family members could stay in the home in Atessa’s place. Because the aunt resents Atessa’s presence in the house, she often beats the girl harshly for small infractions. “Sometimes my heart is filled with so much bitterness,” Atessa confessed quietly.

As we continued talking, Atessa also revealed that she struggles with her math, and her uncle refuses to hire a tutor to help her understand the bane of her existence: percentages!

The next day God prepared the way for me to serve her in two ways. We first discussed forgiveness and bitterness, and I was able to share Scriptures with her, encourage her to hold on to God’s goodness in the midst of difficult circumstances, and pray aloud for her. Then we opened her math book and worked through problems, and I gave her different methods and tips for avoiding errors until she felt confident that she understood the concepts.

Earlier this week, Atessa and I again shared a taxi. “Did you work on some more problems?” I asked eagerly. She grinned broadly in answer, for she now grasps percentages.

May the lessons on percentages open her heart to the lessons on bitterness. Atessa has so much potential, and I’d love to see her become a whole-hearted woman of God…one who has truly given her Shepherd full control of her life. =)

Talking of Foreign Language

One of my friends warned me about learning the local tribal tongue from Abba. After all, Abba is from the south, and might be teaching me the language with a slight accent, which in turn might clue people in to the fact that I’m not a local.

In a Land of Many Languages

The insect was a pretty persistent critter and kept landing on and climbing my arm, no matter how often I blew it away.

There was a tickling sensation on my arm; I looked down and saw my little friend, trying to scale me AGAIN. “Stop it!” I exclaimed this time as I brushed it off.

What do you know, the bug understood English.

“I have many people in this city”

One of the little side ministries I’ve discovered God’s giving me is that of encouraging some of the Christians who comprise a minority in this region. It’s been delightful to see how He has put us in each other’s paths.

“…I give You full control! Wherever You may lead, I will follow…” I thrilled to hear the schoolgirl ahead of me sing the words, and quickened my pace to catch up with her and join in the singing. She smiled at me as she continued to sing un-self-consciously, and we ended up in the same taxi.

The next morning, there she was as soon as I stepped out of the house: we smiled in recognition and again took the same taxi. “You sit up front,” she urged, but I joined her in the back and made introductions. “Where do you go to church?” I asked, and she told me. “Will you come with me one Sunday?” she asked. “I might,” I smiled, then felt prompted to bless this young sister in the Lord. “To celebrate the fact that we have just met each other,” I said, “I’ll pay your taxi fare this morning, OK? Driver, I’m paying for my friend here,” and he nodded in the rear-view mirror.

We stopped for another passenger: this was the third time I’d shared a taxi with the young woman who slipped in beside me, and I knew she worked in my district. “We keep seeing each other: I’m Leah,” I introduced myself. She smiled and introduced herself in turn. “It’s a Christian name,” I exclaimed. “Are you a Christian?” She nodded. “Me too!”

When we reached our destination and got out together, imagine my surprise to discover that she paid the driver for both our fares! What a cool testimony to the driver of the love Christians have for one another.

Recently I discovered that one of my friends-that-I’ve-made-on-my-walk is a Christian: she was delighted to find out that I serve the same Lord she does, and is careful to make sure we visit each time I pass.

It is a joy to befriend Christian and Muslim alike as I wend my way through town. Please pray that God will use these personal contacts to bear much fruit to His glory!

Subterfuge and Friendship

“I need you to come to the district license office with me for a driver’s license,” my fellow staff member and trusted friend “Abba” said. Well, Pastor Tirumbu had hinted that he wanted me to get a license sometime during my stay, so I guessed that now was the time.

Only it turned out that it wasn’t for MY driver’s license: it was in regards to a license for another missionary who also had dark hair, and who wouldn’t be back in the region before the document expired.

Abba later explained that if I’d not been there to stand in as a cardboard-cutout obruni, he would still have gotten the renewal: he would just have had to pay twice as much. So it was either trickery or bribery, and at least the former was cheaper. Abba did all the talking while I stood by trying to look as white as possible. They did ask my age at the conclusion, and I gave my own, amazed that they didn’t cross-check against the birthdate in the documents! Had they done so, they’d have found that the woman in question was nearly twice my age.

“That was possibly one of the most deceptive things I’ve ever done,” I informed Abba afterward. “Next time can we do something completely honest?”

On a happier note, we continued on into town so another friend could run an errand, and when she got back in the van, she asked me whether I walk along that street. I acknowledged that I do on my way home, and she told me that she’d overheard the street vendors saying to one another, “Oh, look, there’s our white friend in that vehicle.” =)

And on a final earnest note, one of my friends-that-I’ve-made-on-my-walk is a devout Muslim woman…who has said she’ll come to church with me this Sunday! Please pray for her, for our friendship, and for the many other friendships I’m making throughout the town.

Thanks for praying!

Unusual Evangelism Opportunity – Part 2

We had scarcely settled ourselves when Dash returned, bringing a friend (“Scruffy”) with him. And wouldn’t you know it, Dash knew “Jawad,” my friend the taxi driver! Suddenly the evening relaxed into pleasantness and camaraderie.

As our visit progressed, it became evident to me that although Scruffy had been introduced as a Christian, only Dash and I are true believers. Scruffy reads the Bible every day, but won’t go to church because people talk about his long hair (“If you come to my church, I won’t talk about your hair,” I promised, deciding against asking “So why don’t you cut it?”), and when I asked Jawad where he goes to church, he admitted he doesn’t regularly attend anywhere. “But now that you are in my life, I’ll start going!” “Please don’t,” I said severely. “That is NOT a good reason. The best reason to attend church is to obey and worship God.”

Dash ended up spending much of the evening chatting separately with my housemate, leaving me to entertain the other two. Interestingly, they guided much of our visit toward discussing spiritual topics, reading Scripture, etc. Near the end of the visit, Jawad suddenly exclaimed, “I love the way you talk about God! You make Him seem so real and so good!” “I was just thinking the same thing,” Scruffy echoed. “He IS real, and He IS good,” I exulted. “And don’t think I say this just because I have a loving family, or because I’m an American. I’ve lost beloved friends and family members to death; I was born into poverty, and know what it’s like to be poor; I’ve had a debilitating disease; I’ve survived two car accidents; and much more. God has allowed so many hardships in my life, and through them all He has been faithful. So believe me when I say I KNOW that God is real and God is good!”

One of my favorite aspects of witnessing to unbelievers is that praising my wonderful God to them reminds me how marvelous He is, and reignites my passion for Him. Please pray that my love for and joy in Christ would be so contagious that Scruffy and Jawad would want to make Him their own! If God is calling them and they want to sincerely seek Him, I’m well aware of the fact that I’m NOT the person to direct them further: so please pray that God will give me great discernment if I interact with them in the future.

And for future reference – if anything like this ever happens again, I am going to invite people to visit me at my OFFICE, not my house. I didn’t have time to think of this simple solution earlier, but it will be much wiser all around!