How to Reach African Children

Daniel used all sorts of word images in the classroom that fascinated me, gave me insights into the African culture, and furnished me with ideas for how to present the Gospel to Africans in the future.

* “What would your father do if you ate fruit He’d told you not to?” was a question asked as a follow-up to the account of the fall. American children would give a variety of answers – “He would send me to my room” “He would spank me” “He would yell at me” “He wouldn’t care” – but with one voice the children in the African classroom replied, “He would beat us.” I guess the fact that sin has consequences isn’t a foreign concept here.

* “How does someone atone for a sin against the community?” Well, naturally, the chief and his elders confer and require the offender to present some sort of sacrifice: a hen, a sheep, a goat, a cow. These children knew that blood was a necessity for atoning for sins.

* “If you want to visit the chief, can you go directly to him?” Daniel asked while trying to explain the concept of a Mediator between God and man. No: the children knew that you have to approach the chief through the village elders. There is no other way to gain an audience.

* “Suppose you want to get rich through unlawful means without suffering any consequences. You know that you will have to visit the juju [black magic] man and he will request a sacrifice. It might be as small as a bird, but if you want to commit a really big crime, you will have to bring a human sacrifice: and it can’t be a cripple or a retarded person: it has to be a perfect human!” The children nodded understandingly: yes, they knew that, and so could clearly understand that God would need a perfect human sacrifice.

* “If you have two fetish priests, one of whom has strong spirit powers, and one of whom merely tricks people out of their money, which one will you go to see when you need a miracle?” The children all voted for the first one…so why wouldn’t they follow the God Who has power to bring back from the dead?

* “When someone sins against the entire community, are all his descendants under a curse?” Absolutely – so it’s easy to see why we’re all under a curse as children of Adam.

* “The gods of the land have said that no one in its borders may eat hen; but someone secretly eats a hen, and the gods respond by sending diseases throughout the land that kill many. When the priests enquire of the gods on the community’s behalf, the gods say there is a curse because someone has eaten hen, and that the only way to stop the pestilence is for someone to willingly be sacrificed. If I willingly choose to die so that everyone else in the community will be spared, won’t my sacrifice be acceptable to the gods?”

Wow, I don’t think I’d have come up with all those scenarios. ;) But no one in the classroom questioned or challenged: everyone was familiar with these and other examples. So if you ever come to Africa, have fun witnessing. =)

Cute little boy in the schoolyard

Confessions

*Disclaimer: there are a lot of personal pronouns in this post, so it sounds very “me-centered” – however, I encourage you to read it as if the personal pronouns are all yours. See whether you would share my feelings…and whether you might be missing out on the greatest opportunities of your life, as I came so close to doing.*

OK, I have a confession to make. Some of the things that have brought the most happiness to my life have been things that I really didn’t want at first.

I did NOT want to go to Africa, for one thing. Growing up, I always feared that if I completely surrendered every area of my life to God, He would probably call me to be a missionary to Africa, and since that was definitely not on my personal agenda, I struggled for years to say “Yes, Lord: You can have ALL of me!” But if you’ve been following this blog, you know how abundantly God has poured joy into my life as I’ve followed Him to Ghana. Praise Him for gently leading me to the point of obedience!

I did NOT want to spend the night in a village. I was told there were no electricity, running water, or bathrooms, and honestly, I’ve never been much of a camper. Spending a night out in the open, away from all these luxuries, didn’t sound appealing at all! But after spending the night in three different villages, I have to admit that it’s frankly a fun experience – for me and for all the villagers to whom my visit is such a novelty. Wow, again God knew what was best. Imagine that.

I did NOT want to teach in the school when first told of the opportunity. I like children, but I’ve never liked public speaking, and filling up 90 minutes twice a week just didn’t sound appealing at all. In fact, the prospect was so far out of my comfort zone that as I told Pastor Tirumbu of the opening, I was half hoping that he would say no, that he would have other plans for me. Well, needless to say, I am so grateful God propelled me out of that comfort zone and put me right on the frontlines.

God is so good and always knows what is best. Why won’t I learn my lesson and gladly embrace every path He asks me to follow? Silly little human me – thank the Lord that I serve a God Who will take me at my word (even if I realize in retrospect that deep down I didn’t fully mean it) and do not my will but His in my life!

The Multiplication Begins

Mahmoud and approximately 35 students had given their lives to Christ in the morning, but God wasn’t quite done working in people’s hearts that day. In the afternoon we got a call from Alit, who said he had told his friend “Saka” about Jesus, and could he bring Saka to meet with us and hear more?

Absolutely! We welcomed Alit and Saka into our office, presented the latter with his own Bible, talked a bit more about Jesus and new birth, and then were overjoyed to lead Saka in a prayer of repentance.

Two days later my phone rang. “Hi, Leah, this is ‘Rahama,’” said the young woman at the other end. Rahama, Rahama – “How do I know you?” I asked, trying to figure out how a stranger could have gotten my number, which I’m so careful about giving out. “I’m Alit’s sister,” she said. “He told me about Jesus, and I was wondering whether I could meet you.”

Um, yeah, I think I could make time for that. When she and Alit arrived three hours later, they clarified that Rahama was actually just Alit’s good friend who came from the same tribe, boarded at the same house, and worked at the same school as he did: we just hadn’t met her because she oversees the nursery classes. She too carefully listened, received her Bible, and accepted Jesus as her Lord and Savior.

Meanwhile, Alit’s face – the one that had seemed so impervious and skeptical before – is brimming with joy these days. Alit has found the Love of his life.

What a challenge to the rest of us!

P.S. One of the responsibilities Pastor Tirumbu anticipated for me prior to my arrival in Ghana was “Teach in elementary school.” Neither of us had any idea that God would cause this responsibility to take the form it has, however! Isn’t God good?!

The Private School Door – 3

I hope you’re not getting tired of hearing this story, because I’m not getting a bit tired of watching it play out before me!

When we went back to classes 4-6 the next day and explained the gospel more fully (both teachers from the previous week were in attendance, including “Mahmoud,” the one who had read through all our visual aids), we were barraged with questions. Obviously these children were older, and it seemed they had talked with adults in their lives who had equipped them with questions designed to challenge our message and sow doubt in our listeners’ minds: “How did God have a Son without having a wife?” “Did Jesus really die?” “Didn’t Jesus predict the coming of another prophet?” and so on. Praise the Lord that Daniel was able to calmly and reasonably answer each one.

At the end of the class session – which ran over by half an hour, but amazingly no one stopped us! – we gave a Gospel invitation, and well over thirty students raised their hands, along with Mahmoud.

Approximately one hundred students have now made a public profession of faith – HALF the student body! This has all taken place in a matter of weeks. It’s overwhelming to consider, but we hope that as we disciple the teachers, they in turn can guide the students in their classes (and, of course, we will continue to visit the school two mornings a week).

Again, I’m asking you to come back for more of the story, because unbelievably there is more to relate! (By the way, in case you’ve not guessed it…we’re needing your prayers in this corner of the world. ;) )

Children in grades 4-6 raise their hands in surrender to Christ

The Private School Door – 2

Daniel and I spent our entire session with classes 1-3 sharing the gospel of Jesus Christ. Fatawu translated as before; and it was cool to note that whenever Daniel talked about how “this Man” can save you, Fatawu’s translation included the Name “Jesus Christ.” Meanwhile, the other teacher – “Alit” – sat in the back with an expressionless face that gave no hint of what was going through his mind. At one point he buried his head in his hands. “Is he wondering ‘What in the world are we doing letting Christians into this school?’ or is he realizing that this must be true, even though it’s against everything he’s ever heard?” I wondered, and prayed for him.

Midway through I was sensing that God’s Spirit was really at work in the classroom, and suddenly thought, “I need to pray that everyone in this room will surrender to Christ today!” Just as quickly I reminded myself that such a result would be impossible. “Is anything impossible with Me?” God asked. “No, Lord,” I replied, and prayed that each person in the room would come to Christ. But it was still a shock to me-of-little-faith when Daniel invited those who would like to pray to accept Jesus Christ to raise their hands, and every single hand in the room went up! All 60+ students, Fatawu, and Alit.

Wow.

Mr. Joe, Daniel, another gentleman, and I met later that afternoon with Fatawu and Alit, to give each one a Bible and tell them a little bit about their newfound faith. When we asked them at the end for their feedback, Fatawu said that he had heard many things about Jesus Christ all his life, and was thankful to finally know the truth and call Jesus his Lord and Savior. Alit simply said that as we were talking, he recognized we were speaking the words of God.

My friends, I thought the story I was giving you would end with the Sunday school chapter…then with the first private school chapter…then with the second private school chapter; but God’s story keeps getting written. So tune back in soon for further news of God at work in northern Ghana. And meanwhile, please pray for these vulnerable children who are going back to their Muslim families. May God be tender and gracious with each one!

The Private School Door – 1

My African brother, “Daniel,” and I showed up at the private school one hot morning and were ushered into a room full of the students from classes 1-3 (ages 6-9). One of the teachers (“Fatawu”) translated for us – and he did an awesome job, accompanying his words with enthusiastic gestures. Since most of the children in the classroom did understand English, most were able to hear everything twice: first in English, then in their own language. The lesson was on the origins of sin.

Daniel and I returned the next morning to teach classes 4-6 (ages 10-14). Because these children were older, they all understood English well, and the school did not assign us any translator. We two were left alone with nearly fifty children, and meant to repeat the previous morning’s lesson; but midway through, Daniel turned to me and said, “I strongly feel that we must present the Lord to them.” I agreed, and at the end of class, he invited all those who desired to pray to receive Jesus Christ as their Savior to stand up…and seven children did so!

We returned the following week to share more about sin with classes 1-3. Fatawu again did a great job translating; but this time there was a new teacher in the back, who seemed rather skeptical of all we were sharing. How I was praying for him and for each one in the room! As Daniel explained how sin leads to disease, poverty, and death, one child asked, “But what is the solution for the problems sin has brought?” “Ah-ha!” Daniel exclaimed, “That is a good question! Come back next week and find out.” After the class ended, Fatawu told us that he was finding the lessons we were teaching very interesting, and couldn’t wait to learn more next week!

Someone must have heard what happened in classes 4-6, because the next day we found two teachers assigned to listen in, and the headmistress sat in a few times. One teacher picked up our visual aids at the start of class and read through them all, the last two-thirds of which talk about Jesus. I was quietly praying as he read, and to my amazement, he ended up being a real help, interrupting a few times to make sure that the students were understanding all that was being taught.

God was definitely at work in the school, and I was prayerfully anticipating our next session with classes 1-3….

The Sunday School Door

My friend Mr. Joe heard about six neighborhood kids in one household who would come to church and Sunday school if only they were picked up and dropped off, and realized that he was positioned to pick up and drop off children! Five Sundays ago, he began bringing the kids to church, and as the Sundays progressed, little Muslim friends of theirs started accompanying them to church.

Long story short, the lesson I prepared three Sundays ago was a perfect segue into presenting the Gospel, which my fellow Sunday school teacher recognized without our prior consultation, telling the children in English they could readily understand of how they could enter heaven, and then inviting them to join her in a prayer of salvation. Five children raised their hands to indicate they had done so. Praise the Lord!

But God wasn’t done reaching out to children. You see, one Sunday when Mr. Joe went to get the six children, he met their visiting aunt, who turned out to be headmistress of a local private school! She told him that the school was lacking a Religious and Moral Education teacher – would he be interested in teaching at the school two mornings a week?

“But I’m a Christian,” Mr. Joe said, “and everything I teach at your school would be from a Christian perspective.” “That’s OK,” the headmistress replied. “You can teach about Jesus – and who knows, you might even convert a few!”

Knowing of my work in the Sunday school, Mr. Joe asked whether I would help fill this need. Pastor Tirumbu gave his permission on condition that I be accompanied by an African, so one fine morning an African brother and I set out together to teach over sixty children in grades 1-3.

To be continued...be sure to check back every day this week (and pray I have the internet to post =D), because the story gets really cool!!

Jesus Loves the Little Children

All the children of the world! He loves the children in America, and He loves the ones in Africa for whom the children in America are praying.

One of my biggest supporters – not only in finances, but more importantly in prayers – is a family I have never met. We were introduced to each other via email some years ago: they were looking for people to proof older books they were reprinting, and my sister and I ended up filling the proofreading role for them for years! When I was preparing to come to Africa, I emailed them with an explanation of why I’d no longer be available to proof – and to my complete surprise and gratitude, they asked for a copy of my prayer letter, and responded with amazing generosity!

Their grandchildren comprise a club that teaches Biblical principles and practical skills. Well, when the club heard that Daddy and Benjamin were coming to visit, guess what they did?! They sent a package with chocolate – and not just any chocolate, mind you: this was Ghirardelli and Lindt! – and a check with money they had raised for my parents to buy me all sorts of little luxuries. My parents used the funds to purchase lotion (it’s dry season here), Q-tips (don’t forget to pack those if YOU ever go away for a year!), gifts for friends here (gift-giving is VERY important in Ghanaian society), and so much more.

And sweetest of all, the package my friends sent included handwritten notes from each of the children. When I emailed my thanks, I was told that they are praying “so faithfully for dear Miss Leah…to be healthy, and to win the children to Jesus.”

Well, children’s prayers are very special: God has been abundantly answering that first request…and He was about to start answering that second request in some unexpected ways….

Questions and Answers – 13

How is family life and structure in Ghana?

There are two main features of family life in Ghana that are generally absent from family life in the United States: polygamy and a very close-knit extended family.

While Islam permits men to take up to four wives each, African Traditional Religions impose no such limit. Most men can’t afford to take too many – having one wife is not uncommon, but neither is having two, three, or four wives. Chiefs generally take more – 7, 15, even 50, depending on the size of the region they rule.

“But there can’t be enough women to go around for all the men,” I exclaimed when I first started to understand the natural order of things here. “There are more women than men,” was the explanation I was given the first few times I tried to investigate this issue. But as I’ve since discovered, of course the fact that more women are born and survive to adulthood than men doesn’t nearly supply every man with multiple wives. Ghanaian society contains plenty of single men who sleep with other men’s wives (especially the chief’s wives – how can one man keep up with 50 women?!) and with prostitutes, and who rabble rouse because they have simmering energies that aren’t being settled at home. Meanwhile, the married men struggle to keep up with providing for the 10-25 children their wives may bear. They can’t really provide adequately for the children’s needs, and it doesn’t take much in the way of brains to realize that a polygamous system keeps the country from developing as quickly as it might economically.

And as for the extended family feature – many a new wife moves in with her husband under her in-laws’ roof. It is very common for aunts and uncles and cousins and grandparents to all live together in a compound house (which will be defined in a future post). Ghanaians feel much closer to these family members than do Americans. “My sister” or “my brother,” I finally realized, can actually refer to a person’s cousin; and “my mother” or “my father” can refer to a person’s aunt or uncle…or grandmother or grandfather. It is all very confusing, and I’ve learned to clarify all introductions. “This is my brother,” my fellow Sunday School Madame introduced me to a young man recently. “Your brother or your cousin?” I asked curiously. “My cousin,” was the nonchalant reply.

A friend’s social studies textbook revealed that many Ghanaian households are moving away from the “traditional” family structure referred to above to a “nuclear” family structure that is being imported from the West, encompassing only husband, wife (or wives), and children. Countercultural indeed.

It is interesting to note that a Christian I met four years ago specifically mentioned that his countercultural decision to move out of his father’s house upon marriage was not based on looking to the Western model, but on literally following the Biblical injunction to leave one’s father and mother in order to cleave to one’s wife. I’m not sure whether I would have said that it’s always a sin for a family to live with the husband’s parents; but my friend’s decision was a good reminder that the Bible is ALWAYS a wise point of reference when evaluating differences between cultures. ;)

More Village Evangelism Stories

God continues to be at work in this area, reaching villagers for Christ. Amos and his friends have gone to two new villages thus far in February – below is a vignette from each location to give a glimpse of what God is doing in this corner of the world…and to inspire each of us to continual prayer for those who are hearing the saving message of Jesus Christ for the first time.

First of all, one of the items that Daddy and Benjamin were able to bring with them was a set of Jesus Films ordered by Mr. Joe in a number of local dialects. “Jesus will speak to people in their own language!” Amos exclaimed excitedly when he saw them, eagerly anticipating the fact that rather than translate for 90 minutes straight, he could sit back, enjoy the show, and pray for all those watching.

So off the team went to show the Jesus Film in Village #4 (to differentiate February’s villages from the ones reached in November: for a number of reasons, the evangelistic outreaches planned for December and January did not occur) – and after the showing, five people came forward to commit their lives to Christ! When the team followed up two days later, the chief pulled Amos aside and said, “I want you to know that I am one of you: I heard your words, and I too believe in Jesus. Now, since I just became chief a year ago, and since this village has been Muslim as far as we can remember, I cannot publicly confess Jesus at this time. But I am praying that your work will grow, and that the church will grow, so that one day soon I can tell all that I too believe in Jesus!”

When the team went to Village #5 to greet the chief and request permission to show the Jesus Film, one of his elders heard what would be presented, and promised to be the first member of the new church. Sure enough, when the altar call was given at the end, this elder was among the twenty who responded.

There’s a third village on this month’s schedule…please pray that God is already preparing people’s hearts in that location, and will bring these plans to pass as well!

The lighting’s not too good, because after all, these villagers were watching the Jesus Film at night.

Freedom from Stuff

“Africans are like butterflies,” Pastor Tirumbu has said more than once. “They move around happily, enjoying life with no thought of the future.”

This observation – an African’s, not mine, though corroborated by what I’ve seen – reveals two aspects of the people’s financial attitudes. The surface that it’s easy to note at first as a Westerner is that Africans DO take pleasure in life, even though they are making do with so much less than we’re accustomed to. They greet each other (and their foreign visitors) jovially, they hum snatches while they work and beat out rhythms as they walk, they joke and tease and laugh easily, they dance before the Lord in exaltation and joy. And all the time they may be wearing their one pair of shoes and have enough money in the pocket for just one more meal. It’s an outstanding example and a convicting one.

The other aspect is a constant, underlying concern over finances: because Africans don’t plan for the future, they are painfully aware of how close to the edge they’re living. They accurately recognize that the average Westerner is far richer than they are, and are often unashamed to boldly ask for money or things. They learn young too. “Give me two thousand” or “Give me three thousand” (20 or 30 pesewas – 14 or 21 cents) is a common request from children I pass in the street. “Give me money,” was the blunt request of a child last week. “Oh, I did not bring money to give,” is my standard reply. Yesterday morning a girl walked into church and came directly to me: “Give me a laptop computer.” “Oh, I’m sorry, but I am not able to give you a laptop computer,” I whispered back. “I should ask Mr. Joe then?” she asked, indicating my American colleague. “I don’t think he will be able to give to you either – that’s not why we’re here,” I gently explained. But she did ask him later nonetheless. If a person can’t cajole an outsider into providing such a luxury, it’s unlikely that s/he will ever own one.

Africans’ survival over the centuries has often depended on their unselfish sharing with one another. During lean times, the family who had a better harvest will share with the family whose crops failed, ensuring that both families will live to see another harvest. The one who is eating always shares with the one who is not: it is impolite to eat food in front of an African without offering, “You are invited” – and being willing to follow through on the invitation if he is indeed hungry. Since there is an expectation that money earned that is in excess of supplying the daily needs will be shared around with others, there is little incentive to earn more than is needed – extra money will inevitably be shifted to needy friends and relations rather than to savings and the future.

There are pros and cons to both the American and the African attitudes toward money. Meanwhile, Africans are not as free from financial care as they might at first seem…but they are happy regardless of their circumstances. What a great example to us!

I’m feeling rather bereft

(for whatever reason) in the comments area. Will you do me a favor and leave a comment – just to cheer me up and let me know you’re reading, to let me know what you’re praying for, to give overall feedback on the blog, including questions that are still unanswered or content you would like to see?

There are several sensitive prayer burdens on my heart at present – will you lift them up before the Lord at this time? Will you pray for Ghana, for her unsaved, for the efforts to reach them in this area?

Thanks so much for your concern and prayers!

Freedom in Corporate Worship

One friend left the following comment in a previous post: “My experience was that most of the Ghanaian believers had a level of joy in their worship and, more importantly, in their lives that is not experienced on a regular basis by churches in the West. It’s not that we don’t have joy, we do. But we have a lot of ‘things’ that get in the way of our joy. The majority of Ghanaian believers have little to nothing of this world’s goods, but their lives are full of Jesus. I’d be curious to hear your thoughts...”

My friend’s observations are very valid, and it’s hard for any Western visitor to miss the contrast between the corporate worship styles of Africans (relatively vibrant) and Westerners (relatively dull). It’s also hard to miss the economic contrast between Westerners, who – to use one example – throw away so much food each day, and Africans, who literally eat bones, fish heads, and cow hide to stretch the caloric potential of the stuff that comprises their diets.

I’ll comment on the corporate worship styles today, and on the economic disparities in a later post.

As I’ve lived among lovely Africans for seven months, my observation has been that in all areas of life, they feel freer to express their emotions than do Westerners. At funerals, they wail at full volume, beating their chests and clasping their heads. When they are annoyed, they yell and gesticulate at one another in public, where we would smolder internally. We consider it polite to avert our gaze when passing an embarrassing or distressing scene; but one of my well-mannered friends here stated without hesitation, “Oh no, we would crowd around to see what is happening” – and I’ve seen them crowd around accidents, arguments, and anything in between.

By the same token, where we contain our joy within ourselves – so as not to offend the sensibilities of those around us; let’s face it, if I danced up to the front in my home church, I would definitely be a distraction! – Africans freely express their joy through rambunctious clapping and free movements throughout the church auditorium. There is “method in the madness,” and what seems chaotic at first is actually well-contained and regulated. Joy is as infectious as any other emotion, so being in a room full of people who are expressing their delight in worshipping God reminds me that I AM glad to be in the house of the Lord…and helps me feel uninhibited in expressing that joy, whether it be through clapping or through a little swaying (OK, so I’m not THAT African yet ;) ).

Corporate worship in Africa IS a joy, and I praise the Lord for letting me experience the freedom to worship with my heart, soul, mind, and STRENGTH!

Benjamin dancing with one of our church mamas in an orderly “circle dance” at the front of the church

God’s Appointment

As I’ve told people here several times, I am convinced that one of the things that will make heaven so heavenly is that there will be no more good-byes! Yes, I cried when Daddy and Benjamin left (but not as hard as I had when Mommy had left a few months earlier – knowing that you’ll see someone in five months is a little easier than knowing that you’ll see someone in a year!). There was definitely wistfulness in having to stay behind and not flying away to my dearly loved family.

And here God’s goodness intervened, for on our way north, Abba and I picked up three men who were looking for a ride. “Are you going to witness to them?” I asked Abba when we made a bathroom stop at one point, which our passengers used to perform their Islamic prayers. “You can,” he suggested, adding a few moments later, “Or we could just forget about it.”

Well, why would God put us in a car with three Muslims, if He didn’t intend for them to hear His good news?! So there I sat, wondering how best to start, when I noticed they were speaking the local dialect I’ve been learning; so I asked in their tongue, “Are you speaking this language?” They were amazed, and we exchanged a few basic lines of conversation with each other. Then they told me where they were from, and I replied, “Ah! Then you are pure-blooded members of your tribe!” Oh yes, they assured me proudly. “And I see you’re pure Muslims too,” I observed, referencing their devotion in prayer – a praise they happily accepted.

That was the opening that was needed to talk about what makes us acceptable to God, and how Jesus is the only Way to heaven. They questioned, commented, and listened intently as Abba translated; then I listened carefully as Abba translated their feedback at the end. When they first waved at us to stop, they made eye contact with Abba; then they saw me, and “all hopes went from our hearts,” because they were sure a white lady would never allow her driver to stop for other passengers. But I did, and was kind to them, and so “we know you are a good person, and you are speaking God’s words to us.”

No praise to me – all praise to God, Who so graciously used this ride to remind me that He still has purposes for me in Ghana if I will depend on Him. Please pray for “Suleiman” and “Abdulai,” who have now heard the truth – may our ride together have been one step in their journey to the true God!