Strangers in Kenya

Rooting for your rivals

2012-01-27T21:07:00.003+03:00

As a basketball coach and sports fan in general, I appreciate the value and excitement of a good rival. My UNC Tarheels have Duke. My Penn State Nittany Lions have Michigan and Ohio State now. Here at Rift Valley Academy, we have a strong rivalry with another missionary school in nearby Nairobi: Rosslyn Academy.

While our victory over Rosslyn on the basketball court this week was sweet (highlights forthcoming on YouTube), we're glad to have reason to cheer alongside our rivals as well.

A former teacher at Rosslyn was kidnapped in Somalia in October, and various U.S. agencies worked diligently at freeing her. A few days ago, the United States employed the same Navy SEAL team that captured Osama Bin Laden last year to rescue Ms. Buchanan and a male Danish hostage. The rescue was successful, with nine captors as the only casualties.

We're overjoyed to be rooting for Rosslyn in their human victory this week.

Happy Birthday Audrey!

2012-01-24T20:29:00.003+03:00

My niece turned one today! We can't wait to meet her in person in July!

'Tis the Season

2011-12-24T07:53:00.004+03:00

Christmas is the great shopping holiday in America, and Kenya--like most of the world--follows along with American customs and culture like a line of reindeer hitched lockstep to Rudolph. Commercialism is spreading like an avalanche, even here. The mall are getting bigger, the advertising glitzier. I wanted to share a few of our experiences as we try to celebrate an American Christmas here in Africa.

--Our fake plastic tree does indeed have presents under it, coming from two primary places. One--grandmas in America. Two--an annual "Thanksgiving-time" yard sale among missionaries. The yard sale is a great chance for missionaries to trade their junk between households, and it gives us a chance to buy something affordable for each other. The grandma gifts arrive in the mail, and while everyone know grandmas love to SPOIL grandkids, our grandmas also have become VERY savvy.

Last year, the Kenyan post office ran out of money to pay their workers in December. So, anything that was sent in late November--which normally WOULD have arrived by Christmas--didn't get here until late January. This year, they've budgeted better, but the mail truck drivers went on strike last week. (Wouldn't we all like an extra week off around the holidays?)

Our grandmas outsmarted them this year. They shopped early and sent oodles of presents in late October and early November. A few packages didn't make it in time, but most did, making this Christmas more enjoyable in the "material" sense.

--The malls here in Kenya are growing bigger and more plentifully stocked, for sure. But imports still carry a hefty price tag. (For example, Micah and Asher emptied out their piggy bank a few weeks ago to buy a "CARS" car. It cost them about $18 in a toy store here. The same car would have been four bucks in America.) We can't justify buying very many things at our Nairobi malls at import prices.

The malls do boast of some American traditions. We found one with Santa Claus posing with the children. The kids sat with him and told him what they wanted. Santa gave them a small gift as they left--a gag gift every little boy would love, a fart in a cup.

(Notice the unorthodox and non-Nordic St. Nick in the pic above.)

--One last observation: as malls have grown, parking has become more difficult. The malls are capitalizing on entering shoppers by installing gates and meters, forcing you to pay a few dollars upon exit. These "automated" devices have been around parking garages for a long time in America, but I'm not sure Kenya grasps the concept yet. They employ one person at every machine (the ticket-taking machine by the exits and the pay stalls inside the mall) to "help" you pay. It's quite comedic watching employees stand next to the very machine that was supposed to replace them and doing the job anyway.

--As we drove down into the Great Rift Valley yesterday to celebrate the holidays at an orphanage, I laughed as "It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas" played on the iPod. Blazing sun, dirt roads, and cactus trees aren't what Michael Buble was talking about.

We hope you enjoy your holiday season with family and friends. And to ours in America, we'll echo the lyrics, "I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams."

Buzzcut Babies

2011-12-15T12:54:00.003+03:00

I realize that my blog the past few months has consisted of more pictures of our kids than actual insightful insight into missions in Africa. I'll try to meld the two today.

If you haven't noticed, Kenyans don't really have long or straight hair usually. However, whites do. So, when little white babies come out with no hair (or very little of it), our Kenyan friends often ask us why we cut our babies' hair. They assume that since their babies come out with short, tight hair and then it remains similar to that throughout life...then we whites must have babies with long, straight hair like ours as adults. If babies' hair is short, then it must be because we cut it for some cultural reason.

To date, we haven't put a blade to little Claire's head. This is her natural look at 8 months old.

Leftover turkey...or chapatis?

2011-11-26T14:06:00.001+03:00

While leftover turkey sandwiches with mayo are a seasonal delight, missionary kids from Kenya--no matter where they are in the world today--would love to be eating a chapati more than anything else. Thank you to this Kenya music artist for bringing the good news of chapatis to us all, both in song AND in visual media!

Be sure to look for the guy who stuffs one in his pocket...

Thanksgiving Cartoons

2011-11-20T13:35:00.002+03:00

Apparently we have a budding cartoonist in our family. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Forever hold your peace?

2011-11-15T22:03:00.003+03:00

A little known but highly embarrassing fact about me: I like a fair amount of country music.

That said, one of my favorites is Taylor Swift. (Quit your smirking...) Her latest album--in case you were wondering--was called Speak Now. The title song is about an old girlfriend interrupting her beau's wedding to a less-worthy lady. She decides to not "forever hold her peace," instead speaking up and providing a romantic alternative for her long lost love.

Sitting in our local church last week, I was reminded of how Kenya's wedding custom differs from America. In Kenya, during the weeks leading up to a wedding, the church will announce the couple's intentions and state that anyone who objects to the union should speak up.

This system makes sense in their culture--a rural setting where legal documents are sometimes scarce or absent altogether and word-of-mouth discussion of reputation carries greater importance--but it makes sense in America's too.

Think about. How much do weddings cost these days? The dress, the food, the venue, the official--all roll the cash register numbers up into the thousands, if not tens of thousands. So, for someone to legitimately have an objection to the marriage at the ceremony is quite an extravagant interruption. People may indeed have objections to a marriage--for who knows what reasons--but no one asks. Not until, the exorbitant ceremony, the worst time to speak up.

Wouldn't it make more sense to ask people to "speak now" week before rather than the day of? I know "public opinions" aren't really welcome inside of connubial bliss in America these days, but Kenya sees value in society's input.

If Taylor lived here, she would never even need to make a scene at all.

Because I haven't blogged in a while...

2011-11-04T23:37:00.003+03:00

No time to make you think. Maybe I can make you smile...

Four furnishings and a funeral

2011-10-06T11:52:00.004+03:00

Before you move to Africa, you hear nightmare stories of people getting cheated out of money. It is often the cultural differences that come into play; it’s not always just blatant thievery. We’ve found ourselves in a little money nightmare these past few months concerning the purchase of some furniture.

Most of the furniture in our house we’ve had made by craftsmen on Ngong Road in Nairobi. Thousands and thousands of pieces line a two-mile stretch of road with many dozen craftsmen willing and able (sometimes!) to create pieces that you request. Our first carpenter did solid work for us, but he was attacked and chased away from his business in Nairobi during the post-election violence of 2007. Since we lost our go-to guy, we’ve had less luck.

Most recently, we wanted to get separate beds for our growing sons, so we took in some pictures off the Internet of some design ideas. We also wanted a few small tables. We chose a worker, and he surprised us with a quote of 10 days to complete our job. We were thrilled. We gave him a down payment, which is customary, and waited cautiously. We would have been satisfied with 3-4 weeks, but he was promising less time.

After two weeks was up, we got a call from him saying that we shouldn’t come pick it up yet. His father died “up country” (most people in the city these days have strong roots in rural areas around the country), and he had to return for the funeral. He was asking for more down payment because of funeral expenses. We said no, having already given him a higher pre-payment than we usually do.

And this event is what has kept us from picking up furniture for over three months.

Our carpenter, as the male figure in his family now, was responsible for paying for the funeral and sharing his “wealth” as a city businessman with his poor, rural family members. And I’m not just talking mothers and siblings—I’m talking aunts and uncles and close friends and neighbors too. The tragedy brought him home, and once home, he had no hope (culturally) of getting out of there with the shirt on his back.

To put it more succinctly, our down payment is now feeding distant relations hundreds of miles from his carpenter shop and NOT being used to create the furniture we ordered. We’ve called him, we’ve threatened, we’ve pleaded, we’ve texted, we’ve showed up unannounced, we’ve sought help of Kenyan friends.

But here we are still. No furniture and out a good chunk of money. We haven’t given up hope that we’ll get something someday from him. This is just how it works in Kenya. My kids sleep on the floor because our craftsman had a loss in his family. A ten-day project becomes a three-month fiasco (and longer, for sure). We all share in one person’s loss. This is the African way. Like it or not.

Four furnishings and a funeral

2011-10-06T11:52:00.000+03:00

Friendly Letter

2011-09-10T15:54:00.002+03:00

It turns out we have more than one writer in the family. Micah had an assignment this week to write a "friendly letter" to someone using the correct format. He chose his mother, and this is what it said.

"Sept. 8, 2011
Dear Mom,
I can't belef you are 35. I love you. XOXOXOXO. You are almost 40. You look old.
Love, Micah"

His writing is excellent for 2nd grade. I'm not sure he understands the nuances of the word "friendly" though.

The loveliest hurdle

2011-09-07T22:08:00.002+03:00

Another school year is off and running--the eleventh of my career. Heather's returned to the classroom part-time...a fish back in water. She's loving her students and they're throwing it right back to her. I'm doing the same things as last year, which is certainly easier the second time around. But this school year, we have an extra matter to contend with--this lovely little creature. While she certainly has created some extra work for us, she's given us smiles and laughs back tenfold. Just look at that face!

I really just wanted a reason to post a picture of her, and all this is just commentary.

The Colonel is here!!!

2011-08-24T10:54:00.002+03:00

Rumors were flying for weeks. In fact, I laughed at Jeff Hazard's sincere efforts to convince me that Kentucky Fried Chicken was truly coming to Kenya. But as I was driving through Nairobi a few weeks ago to pick up Chris and Michelle Gennaro, I realized it was true.

The lines to get a bucket of KFC are getting shorter as the weeks have gone on. (Down from two hours to just one hour now.) But the ripples are still going out. Other restaurants now advertise that they too can make "Very Crispy Kentucky Chicken."

I recognize the irony here. A dime-a-dozen, low-end fast food chain in America is a SMASH HIT in Kenya. Yet, I too am swept up by the craze.

It's good. Very authentically greasy and meaty. Heather brought some home a few days ago. I can't wait to go back.

And our optimism for more American food forays into Kenya is at an all-time high. What's next--Taco Bell? Pizza Hut?

Dare we dream of...no, we shant...but I must say it...McDonald's???

My Barefoot Running Story

2011-08-03T10:00:00.004+03:00

Today I raced my first 5k. Which is no big deal for some people. But it was a big deal for me for a few reasons. Three months ago, I was limping when I walked. A little over a year ago, I was on crutches and wearing a soft boot. But perhaps the biggest reason?

I ran the 5k barefoot.

I’ve had foot problems throughout my past athletic endeavors but during my second year of teaching (2002), my feet started to fail me. I went to a podiatrist and was fitted for orthotics. I hated them. The high heel insole seemed to put undue pressure on my forefoot, and they were so customized that I couldn’t NOT wear them without pain. Walking barefoot to the shower in the morning caused me to twinge. After a few months I gave up on them.

When I got to Africa, I had an injury that led to a diagnosis of neuroma in both feet (which I wrote about in my first book All That You Can’t Leave Behind). The nifty solution to neuroma for me was metatarsal pads in each shoe. Well, again, these buggers change the muscle structure of the foot, making living without them difficult, but they helped me teach and play sports in Kenya.

Then came my most frustrating foot injury. During home assignment in 2010, we were living less than a mile from Mission Bay Park in San Diego and its waterfront jogging/biking trails. But in just our second month near the idyllic jogging locale, I tweaked my foot helping my brother-in-law move. The high-arch tweak turned into a limp, which turned into a soft boot, which turned into crutches. I was laid up for weeks. The podiatrist didn’t know what to tell me. It wasn’t broken according to x-rays. Yet all of the rest he prescribed and advice he gave brought zero improvements.

His legendary words in my last meeting with him? “You’re human. You should heal.” Like I said, that was my last time seeing him.

UCSD’s cross country coach (who attends my home church in San Diego) told me about the doctor who works on him and his runners. He was a bit pricey and outside of insurance, but by this point, I thought I’d be in a wheel chair for the rest of my life. I had to try something else.

The guy was a chiropractor and he spent about an hour working on my foot in our first meeting (in all of my meetings with the traditional doctor, he might have touched my foot once). I don’t know technically what he did, but all of the work on my hips, knees, ankles, and feet led to him “unlocking” the injured foot. I walked out of there feeling 80% better. He promised that after one more session it’d be 100%. He was right.

I asked him what I should do if this all happened again in Africa. He wryly quipped, “Fly me to Africa.” His answer left me less than hopeful for the future.

Upon our return to Africa, I used what little time I had to exercise to lift weights rather than strain my sensitive foot. But a shoulder injury in spring pushed me back into running. Everything went fine. For a month or so. At about the same time, I found a best-selling sports book on Amazon Kindle called Born to Run by Christophe McDougall. I bought it and started to plod through it in between essay grading.

The book essentially makes the case that the human foot evolved perfectly as a running tool (I’d say God created it perfectly, but everyone has his own belief system). It argues that Nike created its waffle shoes for running in the 70’s and convinced everyone that arch supports and lifts and molded soles were essential for human survival. And with that advent came the dawn of foot problems. Sure, some people wear shoes their whole lives without any problems, but for some people shoes themselves might be the problems. (The book also goes into the stories of ultramarathoning biggest stars, the Tarahumara Indians, and greatest race no one ever saw.)

Here I was, injured again with the same injury of a year earlier, hampered by continual foot problems in a profession that demands being on my feet for the next thirty years (teaching and coaching). Was it worth the time to take off my shoes? Absolutely.

I’ll admit. I was skeptic at first. People saw me walking short-distances barefoot, and then running short-distances, and they asked questions. I explained my experiment and my skepticism, but kept going. After a few weeks of slowly strengthening my natural foot (without the contours of a shoe), I jogged a mile. Then two. Then three. Then four.

No pain.

So that’s not entirely true. If I stepped on a pebble, it would hurt for a day or two. Or, if I had to wear shoes again—let’s say for church or a rainy day—then my shoes would hurt my feet. But I had no muscle/arch/neuroma pain from barefoot running.

That’s my barefoot running story. I raced a 5k today (rather than just jogging), and I was pretty proud of my time. 24:41 (Thanks to the Solid Verbal podcast for putting the challenge out there!) I’m not going to win any trophies or anything but 8:05 for mile 1, 8:09 for mile 2, 7:46 for mile 3, and a :41 final tenth was an accomplishment for someone with such bad feet.

Or should I say, bad feet in shoes.

The ambassador and the athlete for Africa, part 3

2011-07-09T23:16:00.002+03:00

Sudan, Africa’s largest country, has been in crisis for the last fifty years. It’s a land of two identities—Arabic and Islamic to the north but African and Christian/Animist to the south. The death toll is uncertain over this past half-century, but some have estimated it’s greater than World War II. Much of the conflict can be summarized as oppression of the rich north on the poorer (but resource-rich) south. That is until January of this year.

A landmark vote for secession took place, and the southern Sudanese voted 98% in favor of independence. The past six months haven’t been enough time to establish a stable and unified new government, but at last, the day of independence came. Today.

Read the AP story.

Both Ambassador Gration and Luol Deng were in attendance in the capital city for the celebration today. My dinner host on Tuesday night and his celebrity guest spoke extensively about the challenges South Sudan will face. Infrastructure. Government buildings. Education. Anti-corruption tactics. And most significant, high expectations from a hopeful and impatient populace. I know very little about Sudan, but I was fascinated by their real and honest conversation about the future for South Sudan.

Luol Deng and his former-diplomat father hope to contribute to the rebuilding process of their homeland. That is why they are here. American hero Scott Gration and his wife Judy (testimony to the adage “Behind every great man is a great woman”) hope to help the process of peace and growth in South Sudan from their strategic positions in Kenya. That is why they are here. I’m here to teach and care for kids of people who help grow God’s kingdom all over Africa, especially in places like South Sudan.

And last Tuesday night, it was a treat of my lifetime to be all together with these exceptional people at this extraordinary time in history.

(Gration, right, and Deng, left, discussing basketball and Sudan on Tuesday evening)

The ambassador and the athlete for Africa, part 2

2011-07-08T21:12:00.002+03:00

My first thought when I knew I’d be meeting on NBA superstar Luol Deng on Tuesday? What will I wear?

Dinners at the ambassador’s house aren’t a weekly occurrence for me. Do I dress up? But since this was going to be a small gathering with an athlete, should I dress casually? And if I dress casually, do I incite the possible anger of the guest of honor?

Do I dare wear my North Carolina shirt to meet a former Duke player?

Deng’s current team will forever be associated with their most legendary player—UNC graduate Michael Jordan. Adults from my generation think of one number and one team when we think about the NBA—23 and the Chicago Bulls. Since the Michael Jordan era ended, the Bulls have had a largely mediocre decade, but this year’s team cruised through the first two rounds of the playoffs until they ran into the Miami Heat in the Eastern Conference Finals (the Bulls’ first since Jordan’s last championship in 1998).

Who was an integral part of the Bulls this year? Sudanese-born small forward Luol Deng. (Read his Wikipedia bio.)

After all the guests had arrived (five Kenyan sports representatives and two other Embassy employees), the Ambassador arrived with Deng and his two colleagues. The well-planned dinner party began with appetizers on the veranda with introductions. The delectable buffet of chicken and beef medallions was next, and while the students and I didn’t get seated at the main table, we could still overhear the conversation among Deng and Ambassador Gration. The topic? Sudan.

Gration is well-versed on Deng’s home country’s turmoil, but Luol has lived through the turmoil firsthand. As a small child, his diplomat father fled the Second Civil War north to Egypt. And Egypt is where his older brother and he learned to play basketball. Their coach was none other than Manute Bol, an iconic 7’7’ tall NBA center from Sudan. A few years later, the Deng family found themselves in the UK, where soccer was a tad more popular than basketball. Luol was every bit as talented on the pitch as he was on the court, but with his massive size, pursuing a future in basketball (just like his older brother Ajou who played for UConn) seemed like the logical course of action.

He played four years at Blair Academy, a boarding school in New Jersey, and he was elected a McDonald’s All-American as a senior high school and widely regarded as the second best player in the country after LeBron James. In his one year at Duke, he made it to the Final Four, but then was chosen seventh in the 2004 NBA draft. Now, seven years later he’s the backbone of the team, with consistent scoring, relentless defense, and a great attitude (he won the 2007 NBA Sportsmanship Award).

One of the reasons my evening with Deng was so enjoyable was his humility. He answered questions knowledgably but without arrogance. Despite the fact that he makes over twelve million dollars a year, he was as willing to listen as he was to talk. He signed Bulls clothing and pictures for us and willingly posed before he headed back to his luxury hotel for the night (me and him pictured above).

I didn’t wear my UNC shirt that night, but I had to admit to him before he left that I was a Carolina fan, not a Dookie. He smiled and said, “If I’d have known that, I wouldn’t have signed any of that stuff for you.” I laughed and replied, “As much as I hate to say it, you Duke guys do a lot of great stuff for the world.”

The whole reason Deng was in Africa was testimony to that. More on that tomorrow…

The ambassador and the athlete for Africa, part 1

2011-07-07T18:51:00.004+03:00

Have you ever got a phone call that makes you drop everything and go? Too often these calls are of the traumatic variety, but I got one on Monday of the thrilling kind.

A friend of mine (I’m going to leave this part vague to be respectful of the person’s privacy) called me and invited me to the United States Ambassador to Kenya’s house to meet professional basketball player, Luol Deng of the Chicago Bulls. I actually didn’t scream “YES!” right away. We are in the middle of finals week here at Rift Valley Academy, and there are a thousand things to be done before the end of the year next Thursday.

But God’s timing for this little treat was perfect, and my schedule was just open enough to attend. After classes closed on Tuesday, we (a group of three of us) drove the hour to the Ambassador’s house in Nairobi to return early in the morning on Wednesday before proctoring my final exam.

The ambassador’s wife welcomed us in and showed us around. The grounds were meticulously beautiful, and the home was a perfect blend of Kenyan style and American elegance. But the truly exceptional part of the home itself is its residents.

Judy, the child of an English and Latin teacher at Rift Valley Academy and graduate of RVA herself a few decades ago, married a former classmate from RVA—Scott Gration—after reconnecting in New Jersey as young adults. His military career (a Major General in the Air Force) took them around the world as they raised their children. Scott played a key part in defining the military strategy for Barack Obama’s presidential campaign. (Read more about Gration on Wikipedia.)

And now, somehow, God led them back to Kenya.

After a two-year stint as Obama’s U.S. Special Envoy to Sudan, Gration was appointed as the Ambassador to Kenya (a strategic southern neighbor of volatile Sudan). A Swahili-speaker since birth who grew up in the Congo, the former missionary kid returned with oodles of political experience to the land that so shaped his youth. Who better to serve as Amabassador?

Despite their role as state representatives, the Grations see their position as God-ordained. They use their platform and hospitality to show love and grace to all who enter their palatial home.

Today, it was three nobodies from a small school in the hills of Kenya, and one huge somebody—a 6’9” huge somebody to be exact—who were the guests in their home. As if meeting the ambassador and his wife wasn’t enough of a treat, we’d get to meet NBA superstar Luol Deng.

More on Deng’s story tomorrow…

The apple doesn't fall far...

2011-06-27T13:24:00.003+03:00

Micah's school had a talent night last weekend. Micah wanted so badly to do a comedy act, but he was a little shy to do it alone. So with the help of Mom, Asher, Claire, and Dad (on drums), Micah stepped up to the microphone and had them rolling in the aisles. Where DOES he get that amazing sense of humor?

(Um, it's from me, his hilarious dad, in case you couldn't figure it out. From me.)

You stay classy!

2011-06-22T13:18:00.005+03:00

So, we're doing our year-end author presentations right now. Fifteen minutes per student to talk about the author he/she has been studying all year. Overall, the presentations have been excellent.

One student shared this quote by realist nature writer Jack London, and even though he is probably the farthest thing from a "Christian thinker," I thought it worth sharing.

“I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time.”

The future of outreach to Muslims

2011-06-09T14:50:00.000+03:00

There are myriad reasons to pray for missionaries in Muslim contexts. The work is hard, the fruit is often little, and the sacrifices are many. No doubt the rewards for such work and the eternal significance of those who come to Jesus are worth every bit of struggle. But an ongoing debate is a particular point of prayer.

Because Muslim communities are so hard to join as an outsider and so hard to become a Christian within, various strategies have been taken by missionaries throughout the years. A helpful scale for contextualization strategies has been formed by missiologists, starting with C1 and ranging to C6. A C1 church or approach to evangelism is akin to creating a Western church (with little or no cultural context) inside a Muslim community. A C6 church or approach is when faith in Jesus Christ is completely secret, there are few secret church meetings, and the “believer” is totally Muslim to an outsider. A C1 church is impossible in closed countries, and so missionaries have moved down the spectrum through the years. Some even use C5 or C6 strategies in the most difficult environments.

This has sparked much debate among missions groups in the West. C5 or C6 groups are accused of betraying the Gospel and diluting the truth among Muslims. While those who encourage a more traditional approach to missions among Muslims (pushing for a C1 or C2 tact) are accused of withholding the truth from people who live in these closed communities because of their refusal to contextualize the Gospel. The debate is often vitriolic, and prayer is essential to keep the focus on saving the lost and not on winning arguments.

One thing is sure: the Gospel is advancing. Turmoil in the Middle East recently and the youth movement in those Islamic countries could mean hope for an openness towards religious freedom in the future. In every politic movement, a careful eye should be lent to the ramifications that the fallout will have for Chrisitianity. This shrinking planet will never see Islam fade away; it will be a part of each one of our futures. But the Bible has promised that the gates of hell will not prevail against the growth of the Church. I hope the stories of this past week gave you a small glimpse of that victory that’s spreading around us.

Baptize me

2011-06-05T14:39:00.000+03:00

Since closed countries don’t allow official “Christian missionaries” entry, most workers have a primary identity as business people who will contribute to the economy of the nation. They carry on self-sustaining and successful business in order to have a platform for reaching the lost. Similar to a lay leader in the United States in that they have a “secular” day job, these folks are nevertheless missionaries because they’ve crossed culture for the expressed purpose of reaching Muslims.

One woman went about her daily business only to be interrupted by a 19-year-old girl she’d never before met. The girl bluntly demanded to know what Christians believe. Seeking some context, the missionary learned that the girl’s father had recently been baptized in the United Kingdom and this piqued the girl’s interest.

The worker had been trained in an evangelism technique of teaching through the Old Testament with Muslims, and she had only gotten through Deuteronomy when the girl interrupted. “I want to be baptized.” The missionary balked and told the girl that she needed to hear the whole story first. But the girl then proceeded to fill in the blanks. She knew she was a sinner, she knew that Jesus was the answer for the sin of Adam way back in Genesis, and she knew that the claims of Islam were false in light of the Bible. A half-hour later, after the girl had supernaturally given a perfect confession of faith, the woman agreed that the girl should be baptized. The father would be returning from the United Kingdom soon, and he could oversee her conversion and what that would mean to her place in their community. Her story isn’t finished yet.

God loses

2011-06-04T20:16:00.003+03:00

My biggest hobby is following college football. And the biggest story of college football the past six months has been the allegations of wrongdoings at Ohio State University, one of the most bitter rivals of my favorite team—Penn State. Attention first was on five players who sold football memorabilia for cash, tattoos, and marijuana. Then, it turned out that OSU’s head coach—Jim Tressel—knew about the illegal actions for almost a year, didn’t punish his players, and then lied to the NCAA by claiming his program was infraction-free. While the NCAA’s investigation was just beginning, Sports Illustrated went in and did some digging. Depending on who you’re talking to, what they found was either enormous or tiny. Whatever the case, the allegations were enough to cause Tressel to quit and to allow OSU to distance itself from the wayward coach.

As I read the Sports Illustrated article, the thing I found most galling was Treseel’s bold proclamations of faith. Since he was a rival coach, I certainly didn’t want to give him the benefit of the doubt at first. I had Christian friends who were OSU fans, and they told me about the “legend” of Jim Tressel—a father-figure for struggling youth, a Bible-reading mentor of men, and an honored figure by Athletes in Action and the Fellowship of Christian Athletes. On the other side, I had heard of rumblings about Tressel’s checkered past at Youngstown State and his laissez faire attitudes towards unscrupulous boosters and greedy players. With few hard facts behind me though, I chose to believe the best about Tressel. As his team beat Penn State seven of the past nine years, all I had was my jealously of OSU’s success under a man I thought to be a solid leader in a difficult profession for integrity.

But it turns out that Tressel was a hypocrite. He didn’t walk the walk. His success was built on lies. SI laid out nearly three decades of past transgressions by Tressel and made a strong case for his greatest successes being built on immoral athletes (who were enabled if not assisted by an immoral coach). His championship QB Ray Isaac at Youngstown State, his championship RB and WR/CB Maurice Clarett and Chris Gamble at Ohio State, his Heisman Trophy-winning QB Troy Smith, and his #1 recruit and two-time bowl winner Terrelle Pryor—all found guilty of NCAA infractions involving money under Tressel’s watch.

Christianity isn’t just about morals, but Christ does ask us to follow a higher standard when it comes to the way we act. And while there are plenty of coaches and athletes who can keep a low profile regarding faith, Tressel was one who built his image on his faith. He wanted to be a bearer of the high standards of Christ. He wasn’t shy. But he should have been. Or else, he should have pushed rule-breaking boosters away from his players in the 1980’s. Or kicked his free car-receiving player off of the team, thus losing his team the national title in the 90’s. Or made his star RB go to class and empty out his pockets in the 2000’s, which probably would have cost him another national title. Or made sure no one was giving the nation’s top recruit cars and money to get him to attend OSU in 2008 (instead of PSU, Michigan, and Oregon).

It’s not that Tressel never did anything good. He surely impacted players positively in various ways. But if he had acted with complete integrity from the beginning, he would never have won. And it was winning that led to Tressel to the pinnacle of both fame for his coaching prowess and notoriety for his impeccable Christian character. But it’s hard to win with integrity in sports. Sad to say, but God lost one this week.

Brothers

2011-05-31T23:19:00.002+03:00

Asher, on the way home from seeing the doctor for his major illness, agrees to stopping to buy some sausages to take home for dinner. But the first words off his tongue are, "Let's make sure we get enough for Micah."

Micah, knowing that his brother is going to Nairobi for some serious medical work the next day, tells me to take some of his allowance money out of his wallet. He wants me to buy Asher a present at the toy store and sneak it home so that he can give it to him the next night.

Brothers.

“Let God sort them out”

2011-05-29T14:34:00.000+03:00

(The following stories are purposefully vague to protect the individuals who are doing their dangerous work throughout the Muslim world.)

One of the dangers that emerges when Christians get too high of a profile in Muslim communities is that plots can be formed to accuse them of illegal behavior or even to harm them. Pretend “seekers” can come around prayer meetings or sharing times among Christians and gather damaging information. This threat though hasn’t bothered one bold couple in a closed country.

Although living in a Muslim community, they estimate that 60-70 people per week—some acquaintances but many complete strangers—enter their home asking questions about Jesus. These astronomical numbers are unheard of within this kind of ministry.

When concerned co-workers ask the couple about the danger of wolves infiltrating in sheep’s clothing, they confidently land on the side of unwavering faith with their response. Acknowledging the probability that insincere and even scheming visitors have been in their midst, they say, “We’re going to keep teaching whoever comes, and we’ll let God sort them out.”

A crack from a crack

2011-05-26T14:30:00.002+03:00

(The following stories are purposefully vague to protect the individuals who are doing their dangerous work throughout the Muslim world.)

In one of the most resistant of resistant mission fields, a missionary couple found themselves very discouraged after years of—seemingly—fruitless labor. To add extra frustration, the husband cracked a tooth. He got to the dentist as soon as he could see her.

When his appointment time came however, the first question the dentist asked wasn’t, “How can I help you?” It was, “Are you a Christian?” And when he said yes, he then asked him, in front of his full dental staff, what exactly Christians believe. The man laid out the Gospel openly to the dentist, and the story was heard with eager and open ears. That alone—an foreseen chance at sharing about Jesus—was a huge gift to the couple.

Two weeks later, at the follow-up appointment for the fixed tooth, he had another chance. After days of thinking about the words the missionary shared, the dentist and his co-workers had more questions. A cracked tooth led to a crack in the high and strong wall of Islam in one missionary field.

Bin Laden is dead…Islam is not

2011-05-24T14:20:00.001+03:00

Twenty years ago, our mission agency had one missionary couple actively ministering to Muslims in Africa*. Ten years ago, Osama Bin Laden and Al-Queda orchestrated a vicious terrorist attack on mainland United States. Today, Bin Laden is finally gone (at great cost to the U.S. and its allies), and we have over hundred missionaries who work among those practicing Islam. To loosely connect the dots, one can see a connection between these events. Islam has grown in its influence worldwide, even though Christianity—and not Islam—is growing at a faster rate worldwide. Christians are responding to the bright spotlight the world has thrown on the Islamic world, not with swords for swords but with compassion for the hearts of people who are tied to a freedom-less religion of works.

Our school supports workers who work in open and closed Muslim countries, and while the utmost secrecy must be used to protect their identities, prayer occurs on their behalf as they labor in some of the most intimidating and spiritually-dry settings on Earth. Over the next few days though, I want to share a few stories of victory happening throughout the Muslim world.

*a distinction exists between animistic Mulsims and Muslims in closed Islamic countries. Generally, animistic Muslims are rural and isolated geographically, are more recently converted historically, and less entrenched in true Islamic theology. This doesn’t mean that the work of evangelizing these people is any easier than people who are in more traditional Muslim areas.

What do tribal missions look like?

2011-05-18T14:06:00.001+03:00

This video, made by our friends the Busers, gives a good picture. Great song by Phil Wickham behind it ("The time is now"). Pray for them as they get ready to head back for their second term of service. Give to them through New Tribes Mission. Encourage them on email or Facebook (or to their faces the next few months :)). Enjoy a window into God's work.

Brandon and Rachel in Biem, Papua New Guinea

New podcasts still pouring out...

2011-05-02T20:43:00.000+03:00

Season three of the podcast is underway. Check out what you've been missing over at All That You Can't Leave Behind.

A 4-year-old's stairway to heaven

2011-04-28T20:39:00.001+03:00

Can you guess where we're "hiding" the Easter candy?

(The actual child was omitted from the photo due to the fact that I don't want the CPA after me...)

From dirt to destiny

2011-04-21T13:38:00.000+03:00

It’s been said by many a parent here that Rift Valley Academy is Kid Heaven. Playground, playing fields, great weather, and secure grounds are all prime reasons, but the biggest factor is that your friends all live just a few hundred yards away. When we returned from home assignment last August, Asher received the freedom that Micah had for a few years. Now both boys either call a friend or knock on his door, and hours of childhood memories await them.

The current highlight of their young lives is the dirt pile. Construction of a new house nearby has created a mound of fresh dirt near the edge of campus. As the dirt cascades down the hill that’s already there, the mountain of pleasure grows higher and steeper for the kids. We don’t mind. They head directly for the shower when playtime is over, and they’re as good as new by dinnertime.

But 7-year-old Micah knows that his love of dirt is only temporary. At dinnertime, he shares his future plans with us. He’s recited it so many times that Asher can repeat it too. Listen along and you’ll hear the intricacies of a young missionary kid already preparing for future transitions.

First thing after graduation, he’ll go to California to say goodbye to Nana and Papa. Then, he’ll fly to Texas to see his friend Jonah. Jonah is a neighbor at RVA and has spent more of his life in Africa than America, but Jonah is a Texan by birth. So, to Texas Micah will go. After that visit is complete. He’ll fly to Pennsylvania and say goodbye to Grandma Strobeck. That will complete his visiting circuit. Next, he’ll be off to college. Where, you ask? Hawaii, of course. Micah has heard that Hawaii has lots of exotic birds and great surfing, two of his supposed interests. Maybe he’ll be an oceanography or ornithology major?

He hasn’t decided on that yet. But we’re always telling him, “You’ve got time, Micah.”

12 Tears, part 3

2011-04-08T08:51:00.001+03:00

The birth of a child is an emotionally overwhelming experience. After nine months of “expecting,” emotions turn to a mixture of excitement and dread as the delivery date draws nigh. The actual birth experience itself? Well, it’s hard to imagine human drama at a higher crescendo. And then there is the joy and anxiety of the fragile and tenuous first days of life. A few tears were shed on our part during the birth of our first daughter, Claire Grace last week. I counted twelve, which I’ll spread out over the next few days.

9. Breaking the news of Claire’s illness to family members over the phone—after breaking the good news of her birth to them just hours earlier—wasn’t easy. There was a degree of “holding it together” in front of the nurses and doctor and Heather, but when I heard the voices of family, all of the exhaustion and fear and emotion overwhelmed me.

10. Staring at a baby in an incubator gives one a guilty feeling of boredom. One wants to do something…but there is nothing to do—but pray. We stayed with Claire about three hours that night, heads bopping from her chest to the O2/breathing rate monitor, back and forth. We finally decided on attempting to sleep back in Heather’s hospital room. After a quick snack (the most food I had eaten all day amidst all the activity), we almost turned off the lights when we got one last call from the doctor. He said that he breathing had stabilized enough that she wouldn’t need to be on constant oxygen and that he was so pleased with her hydration that he didn’t feel that liquids through the IV were needed either. She still was to be kept for the night in NICU, but the update left us both teary-eyed and peaceful enough to sleep.

11. I’ll skip through most of Tuesday’s events, saying only that the doctors gave her a glowing report in the morning, Claire was back in our room by lunchtime, and the rest of our hospital stay amounted to primarily favorable O2 readings and test results. Tuesday brought us word of hundreds and hundreds of people praying from California to Pennsylvania to Africa to wherever-else-Facebook-and-email-goes. It was a day of great relief. Then on Wednesday, our friends Mike and Kim brought their kids and our two boys to the hospital to visit. We had vivid memories of Micah holding his baby brother for the first time, and now both boys would sit on the same chair and hold little Claire. The sight of all three of our miracles on one bench was beautiful beyond description. Wet eyes snapped away behind the camera.

12. Although we originally hoped to leave on Wednesday, the worries of Monday night and Tuesday morning kept us waiting for results into Thursday. I returned from Kijabe after spending the night with our two boys and relieving our babysitter of her duties, and after a few hours of waiting for all of the different departments to clear Heather and Claire, we were released! We snapped her into her car seat, just a little dollop of sweetness in the vast expanses of that seat. I turned the key and looked in my rearview mirror. Heather. Baby. Clean bills of health. A week of emotional heights and depths. Headed to our blustery home on the hillside as a family of five. It was a beautiful thing, and I couldn’t help shed one last tear of joy and gratitude.

12 Tears, part 2

2011-04-06T08:44:00.002+03:00

5. The hospital Internet proved good for more than only suffering through a Carolina loss. I spent an hour or two studying up on our options to get Heather unpregnant. Our research and our situation led us to the following course: break the waters, start pitocin three hours later, and then epidural if the pitocin makes the contractions too painful. Well, we didn’t get past phase 1. They broke her waters at noon, and it wasn’t a cup of happy sunshine for my wife. Tears five.

6. When I published my second book, the unparalleled favorite section was the part about Asher’s birth. And the highlight of that section was my description of Heather’s transition phase of labor, where my mild-mannered wife turned werewolf. The prospect of another transition phase gave Heather nightmares for nine months, and after her waters broke, I said hello to Freddy Krueger. I joke, but the 45 minutes of transition labor are no cause for laughter. The most excruciatingly painful times of Heather’s life were Asher’s transition and Claire’s transition. As a husband, your “pain” isn’t really relevant, but powerlessly watching the woman you love cry and writhe and suffer is a harrowing experience. Hers weren’t the only tears here.

7. Of course, transition comes to an end. The baby emerges, and that’s where words wholly fail to express the beauty and the humanity and the brutality and the wonder of human birth. Claire Grace Murphy was born at 1:05pm oN March 28^th, 8 lbs. 12 oz. and 21 inches long. The seventh tears.

8. Claire’s first few hours mostly resembled a normal start to life, except for one significant detail—low oxygen levels. Her hands and feet were slow to turn pink after birth, which prompted constant monitoring. They kept putting her back on oxygen until it was decided at 6pm (about five hour after her birth) that she’d need to be admitted to the NICU in an incubator with an IV, antibiotic infusions, and constant oxygen over night. Multiple tests would be administered to rule out a lung infection. Our helpless little baby…out of our room, out of our hands. And out of our eyes came…

Stay tuned for the final four tears...

12 Tears, part 1

2011-04-04T08:25:00.002+03:00

1. With Claire already measuring at eight and a half pounds on March 23^rd, our doctor recommended we induce on Sunday the 27^th. So, we called in our expert babysitter in the afternoon (the same wonderful woman who babysat Micah when we had Asher in Nairobi four years ago) and drove into the city. Driving away from our two babies as we journeyed towards another baby was a bittersweet necessity. Tear drop number one.

2. Our doctor delayed our admittance into the hospital for an unknown reason, so we had a few hours to kill. After a relaxing meal (perhaps our last one alone, without a baby present, for months), we decided to catch a movie near the hospital. Our only option? The Green Hornet. I was optimistic heading into it, but it was atrocious. Ironic, aye? Only a few windows of opportunity to catch a new release in Kenya, and what do we get? Seth Rogan in tights. Ugh. Life isn’t fair. Tear numero dos.

3. We dried our eyes and headed for the hospital, a bit bleary-eyed at the late hour. Then, the nurses took over three hours to examine Heather and monitor the baby’s heart rate before they’d let us sleep. It was 2:30am before the induction had officially begun. The upside of insomnia though is that my beloved and surging North Carolina Tarheels were playing their Elite 8 basketball game in primetime, in America and I could follow the score on the Internet. Alas, Daddy’s magical weekend wasn’t to find completion. Kentucky shot the ball out of their minds and eliminated UNC. Another tear drop before falling off to sleep.

4. The labor-inducing suppository sometimes took three tries, according to our doc. After nothing had happened for the first eight hours, attempt #2 began. This one seemed to have some small effect, but overall, it had been a frustrating start. Less than three hours sleep, no contractions, and little dilation or effacement. Emotions were raw, as we contemplated our next step. Break the waters? Pitocin? Epidural?

Stay tuned for tear drops 5-12...

Crunch Time

2011-03-07T09:39:00.000+03:00

(picture from two weekends ago...varsity basketball wins the RVA Tournament)

There’s an extent to which a teacher or coach is not responsible for his pupils. He doesn’t play the game. He doesn’t take the test. He doesn’t shoot the foul shots. He doesn’t write the essay. But there’s also an extent to which the teacher or coach IS on the hot seat.

That seat is mine right now. Teaching AP English for the first time has put me in a unique situation, as my students’ performance on the AP exam in early May will-- in some ways-- reflect on the preparation I’ve given them. Normally, when teaching non-AP courses, I do my best, I give my grades out, and my students quietly pass on to the next grade. This year, those standardized scores come back, and any of the blame (or praise) that’s to be had by a teacher comes my way. Not their 7th-10th grade teachers’ way…my way.

The other main hat I’m wearing right now is that of basketball coach. We have semifinals this week. Win that, and we’ll be likely facing the best team in our league for the championship. Every practice has a sense of urgency, as the day of evaluation is soon upon us. Coaches don’t win championships; players do. But I certainly want to do my best to get my players and pupils ready for showtime.

The Force

2011-03-03T09:54:00.000+03:00

Micah boldly walked into the living room and announced that he used "the Force" to close the refrigerator door. We laughed and congratulated him. I then asked him if he thought he could do it again for the video camera. He said he didn't know if he could control the Force every time, but he was willing to try. The video below is his attempt. Below THAT video is the sweet Volkswagen commercial with another young Padawan learner, which Micah had seen before his own attempt to use the Force.

Survival Story

2011-02-20T10:42:00.002+03:00

After eight years of teaching English to mainly sophomores, I found myself with a new assignment this year. Junior English, and one period of junior AP English. As we study American literature, I gave a new creative writing assignment to piggyback on Jack London’s short story “To build a fire.” It’s a survival story about a proud and naïve man who attempts to cross a frozen wilderness alone. My students were to write their own story of survival (either ending badly like London’s or with a positive outcome). One student wrote a story about an African man who was dying of cerebral malaria. The character’s missionary friend drove him through the night and through various obstacles to get to the hospital where he could be treated. He made it to help in time, and the man miraculously recovered. The writer? A girl named Donna.

About a week after writing this story, Donna came down with (presumably) a flu bug that was ransacking our campus. She and fifty other dorm students were overfilling our student health center with fevers and head colds and stomach troubles. After a few days of an extremely high fever and a worsening condition, Donna was tested for malaria. The test was positive, but Donna continued to slip and didn’t react to the anti-malarials. She was admitted to the hospital early in the weekend and fell into a coma by the end of the weekend. The malaria had gone into the brain—Donna had cerebral malaria, an often deadly and usually damaging condition.

Her parents quickly arrived from their country of ministry and joined her brother (also a student at RVA) by Donna’s side. The whole community (and people around the world as we all shared this prayer request abroad) rallied in prayer. From the youngest kids here to the oldest staff members—hundreds of us here cried and pleaded to God on behalf of Donna. The coma went on for two days, then three, then four. Many began to speculate about the worst.

But then Wednesday came. Donna began to move her extremities slightly. By the end of the day, she groggily awoke—a welcome and triumphant turn of events. By Thursday, she was out of ICU. And by Friday evening, her family wheeled her through the doors of Kijabe Medical Center! She improved even more over the weekend, enough to return to a limited slate of classes on Monday morning. From a coma one Monday to a classes the next! This week, she submitted the final draft of her story to me, a story of loving friends who helped a sick person get the help he needed.

Only God can heal, but what an incredible mystery that he allows us to pray and to intercede on behalf of those we love, like hundreds and thousands did on behalf of Donna! God is truly amazing and truly merciful.

Donna’s victory over cerebral malaria—a survival story only God could write.

Gone but not forgotten

2011-02-13T15:54:00.003+03:00

It's been a rough month here around Strangers In Kenya Headquarters. Lots of sickness in the family. Lots of stress on the work front. I've had a few blog thoughts, but never found the minutes to write. I don't even have the time now, except to say a new blog post is coming soon. It's called "Survival Story" and it's not about me, although that's about all I'm doing right now.

A few more boys nuggets, continuing my last post's theme, are from Asher. First off, he used "hypothesize" correctly in a sentence today. Secondly, he's fighting hard to figure out why "amn't" isn't a word. "Aren't" is a word. Why isn't "amn't"?

I amn't sure.

I did manage to upload a new podcast though...have a listen HERE or subscribe on iTunes.

Brothers

2011-01-17T19:51:00.002+03:00

Two of the greatest joys of parenthood? Watching your children love each other. And watching your children's language abilities grow. Two stories that demonstrate both...

Micah noticed that his brother got a haircut while he was at school the other day. He saw him at the school playground in the afternoon and reported to his mother: "I didn't even recognize him! I thought he was just some new chubby kid!"

My favorite Asher-ism right now is his use of the word "exactly" in place of any and every adverb. For example, "I'm exactly hungry right now," and "I ran exactly fast to the playground." I guess I should teach him the right usage, but it's too darn cute.

A warm day

2011-01-04T12:06:00.002+03:00

Back to the grind today. New term of classes began. Varsity basketball underway. The next 12 weeks are already flying by…

But before we move on, I want to share a quick eulogy for one of my spiritual mentors who died during the holidays. Pastor Joe Seitz was my childhood pastor at Grace Lutheran in Red Lion. He retired during my high school years, but we stayed in touch even after that. While he shaped my pre-Christian soul extensively and in many unforeseen ways, I especially enjoyed our conversations after I became a believer in college.

I want to share two short but significant memories of Pastor Seitz. First, when I was just an elementary student, Pastor Seitz told me (prophesied?) that I should be a pastor someday. My initial thought to this statement has wryly stuck in my memory: “I don’t want to be a pastor. I want to have fun in life.” Looking back now, I see the irony of my line of thinking. Jesus came that we might have life and joy to the fullest. My life now is happier and fuller than I ever dreamed and definitely more than I ever deserved, and it’s happened—surprise, surprise—as a Christian and as a missionary. The other memorable point about this encounter was that Pastor Seitz breathed vision into me. While my father contributed positive things to my development, he never instilled me with much purpose. Pastor Seitz was giving my soul a purpose, giving my life significance, by even mentioning a destiny in God’s kingdom. I certainly walked away from the Lord and His people for a few years of my life, but I now can see how influences like Pastor Seitz helped bring me back home. I shared my gratitude about this significant experience with Pastor Seitz before he died.

The second event is not as broad in scope. It was simply an insight, a profound piece of wisdom that shaped my future relationships. As a young Christian in college, Pastor Seitz invited me into his home for lunch and conversation. As the topic turned to my father, I told him about the distance that existed between us. He asked a few direct questions that eventually came to this point: people need to know how you need them. Rather than bemoan his deficiencies, I should rather express points of gratitude, express the positive aspects of our relationship in the past and present. Pastor Seitz’s wisdom lit up my heart. I began communicating love so much more effectively to not just my dad but to many people in my life. I became less afraid to express need to others and more willing to open up my own heart to those who already held a piece of it.

The cold Pennsylvania day in December on which Pastor Seitz died was seasonally warm here in Kenya. As I thought about the differences in climate between where he was and where I was, I considered the flowers blooming and crops rising. I considered how beauty and freedom and life and warmth can exist in one place, while death and decay and cold can exist in another.

And then I thought about Pastor Seitz. With Jesus. With his wife Bonnie. In a place of infinite joy and pleasure and contentment and worship, right now, as we grieve and remember and live on earth. It’s a far brighter and far better place. This thought and memories of the life of Joe Seitz warm my soul still today.

The joys of our world

2010-12-24T12:37:00.000+03:00

Micah and Asher singing their favorite Christmas carol before opening their traditional Christmas Eve present.

While shepherds watched their flocks by night… (or “A REAL technological miracle”)

2010-12-21T09:41:00.002+03:00

We had our annual all-Kenya conference with Africa Inland Mission a few weeks ago. It’s timing is a bit unfortunate as we RVA people are just ending a brutal first term of school and are pretty wiped out when it starts. Nevertheless, it’s refreshing to be with other missionaries, and hear their frontline stories of God’s work in Africa, which is, after all, why we’re here in the first place!

When I heard one particular story, I was reminded of my last blog, touting a miracle out of being able to watch a trivial football game. I thought I ought to give you a better definition of a technological miracle.

Cell phones are everywhere in Africa. Western businesses saw a way to make money off of even poverty-stricken people: get cheap cell phones in their hands and then sell them pay-as-you-go minutes to use. For just a few shillings, people could be up and talking. Driving around the countryside, it’s always a marvel to see a shepherd in rags with a scrawny flock—the only signs of life for miles and miles—talking on his cell phone like a Wall Street trader.

My story for today, though, is set in a far more remote place than anywhere near where I live. Far north in Kenya, a missionary lives among the Pokot people. He told of a tribal dispute between villages where one group (A) stole some goat from another (B). When the rival group (B) went to reclaim their possessions, there was melee and a man from group A died. Group A was obviously furious. The young men worked themselves up into full-on plan for revenge. They raced ahead of group B (who was returning to their village slowly with their flocks) and set up an ambush, intending to slaughter the dozens of shepherds who had killed their friend. As group B neared the attack point, they realized what was in store for them and that they were trapped. A shepherd from group B grabbed his cell phone and called his chief. Chief B then called Chief A (speed dial perhaps?) and told him what some of his villagers were planning. Chief A knew that a massacre would not be in the best interest of his people and wanted to call off this ill-advised act of revenge. Chief A picked up his cell and told them to put down their machetes and bows-and-arrows. He told them that the chiefs would negotiate a peace afterward but that they were not permitted to massacre these shepherds. The plotters from group A listened and group B passed by unharmed on their way back to their village.

When you think of the pain and the suffering that could have happened on that day but was averted due to technology, it’s hard not to believe in miracles. Even miracles that involve cell phones.

A Technological Miracle

2010-12-01T17:10:00.001+03:00

While I'm frequently lamenting the difficulties of technology in Africa, I have to report some successes as well.

First off, this very blog. Five years ago, I sent emails to my blog to post. Simply loading up the page was too big for our sluggish internet. Then, I'd send small jpegs to my friend Greg through email, and he'd place the pictures on each post. For my video blogs, it was even more complex. I sent actual DVDs with clips that I'd want uploaded, and Greg posted those for me. Now, I can do everything from here. Large pictures, small videos, and website entry...any time of the day without impediment. (Unless, of course, the Internet is completely down [which does happen] but if it's working, I can maintain this completely.)

But Saturday night was a total milestone. As I listen to my beloved PSU football team online each Saturday of fall, my gracious wife allows me to hibernate to the study/playroom for a few hours. Last month, she suggested that I Skype someone back in the States and have them turn their webcam on so I could watch the game. The extreme idea seemed a bit fanatical for even me, and I balked on the idea for a few weeks. I was happy to be listening...WATCHING seemed like I was tempting fate to smite me. But on the final Saturday of the season, the stars aligned. PSU had a game on during a reasonable hour (8pm-11pm Kenya time), and I asked my friends Andy and Debbie if they would be willing to try. It worked out for them, and miraculously, it worked. For three hours, I watched PSU, and since it was Skype, Andy and I got to talk about the game like we were sitting in the same room. It was amazing. Penn State lost, but it was still incredible!

High def, it wasn't. But you have to celebrate the little victories when conquering technology in Africa.

Hey, it's Christmas time?

2010-11-22T14:25:00.005+03:00

I'm not sure if it's hit YOU yet, but it's almost the Christmas season. It hit me this weekend. After a long first term of school here in Africa, we were just plodding along until we arrived at our school's auditorium on Saturday night and BLAM!--it was Christmas time. Christmas trees, poinsettia decorations, and a band/choir concert featuring holiday music. It was a bit hard to get my head around it. I wrote about this before in my first book, but regardless, old Christmas snuck up on me again. The weather gets warmer here...there are no TV commercials telling us what season is coming...we don't frequent stores that put up decorations after Halloween. How could we know it was nearly upon us?

I did my best to get with the times though. Leading worship for our junior high student ministry (like a youth group for 100 7th and 8th graders), I picked out some rambunctious campfire songs but also sprinkled in some holiday favorites. Even though I've played guitar for this event for the past four years, I never associated the late-November bonfire with Christmas.

Until the last song--"Silent Night." Wow, the song was just perfect. And when you consider all the Christmas carols that revolve around angels appearing at night and shepherds out in the fields and Jesus sleeping on the night of his birth...singing outside about Christmas was magical.

The speaker seemed to be moved by the same Spirit last night too. Dan's message was about the angel choirs and their simple statement to the shepherds--Glory to God in the highest and peace to his people on earth. Beautiful words.

The perfect way to start off Christmas.

In trouble

2010-11-09T10:17:00.003+03:00

The above quote comes from Henry David Thoreau. A student shared it in class today, and I could relate. The joys and the curses of being a writer....

On that note, I'm soliciting help.

Amazon Kindle has been an awesome new way to get my two books in more people's hands. It's super cheap (compared with a hard copy of a book), and it can work on any digital reader or even a computer. To help with sales on this medium, I'd like to get more "reviews" of my two books, particularly my newest one.

Even if your remarks are short, I'd appreciate your thoughts and responses to my books.

Once you click on the links below, you'll need to login (it won't take long to start an Amazon user ID if you don't have one).

Write a short review for All That You Can't Leave Behind: A Rookie Missionary's Life in Africa

Write a short review for Winter Spring Summer Fall: Living and Lasting in Missions

Baby News

2010-10-29T19:49:00.001+03:00

You may or may not have heard, but we're expecting our third (and likely last) child in late March of next year. Heather will deliver it here in Africa again, and so far everyone is healthy and normal. Our school break starts on March 25, so if the baby is a proper and well-behaved missionary kid, she'll wait until we have some days off to break into the world. And if not, well, our students might get out of final exams!

The video above is the explicit conversation we had with our two boys on the day we found out about the gender of the baby.

4,000...whatchoo talkin' 'bout?

2010-10-17T14:12:00.001+03:00

Episode 27 is my podcast is available HERE or on iTunes. In the first 20 months, it's garnered over 4,000 downloads and that's not even counting those that listen directly on the Internet. It's exciting that people are interested in worldwide missions, and I pray that my efforts will inspire, amuse, and educate many towards greater service of Jesus Christ.

Lead me

2010-10-05T10:00:00.003+03:00

The past two months have been some of the most demanding I've faced in my life. While I expect this year will settle down after December, that doesn't help make the days longer in October. There aren't enough hours in the day to lesson plan, grade, lead worship, and coach. Not enough minutes to be a mentor, be a friend, be a father, be a husband. And the last two are the ones I feel most passionate about. I wanted to share a song that is kind of a prayer for me right now. Here are the lyrics. Or if you'd rather listen yourself, click the link below.

"Lead me" by Sanctus Real

I look around
And see my wonderful life
Almost perfect from the outside
In picture frames I see my beautiful wife
Always smilin'
But on the inside...
I can hear her sayin'...

"Lead me with strong hands
Stand up when I can't
Don't leave me hungry for love chasin' dreams
What about us?
Show me you're willin' to fight
That I'm still the love of your life
I know we call this our home
But I still feel alone."

I see their faces
Look in their innocent eyes
They're just children from the outside
I'm workin' hard
I tell myself they'll be fine
They're independent
But on the inside...
I can hear them sayin'...

"Lead me with strong hands
Stand up when I can't
Don't leave me hungry for love chasin' dreams
But what about us?
Show me you're willin' to fight
That I'm still the love of your life
I know we call this our home but I still feel alone."

So Father give me the strength
To be everything I'm called to be
Oh Father show me the way
To lead them
Won't you lead me?

To lead them with strong hands
To stand up when they can't
Don't wanna leave them hungry for love
Chasin' things that I could give up
I'll show them I'm willin' to fight
And give them the best of my life
So we can call this our home
Lead me, 'cause I can't do this alone

Father lead me 'cause I can't do this alone

Stumps and Sticks, part 2

2010-09-18T13:36:00.000+03:00

The second off-campus experience we were able to have on our day off last Saturday was dinner with my long-time Kenyan friend, Pastor Earnest and his wife. Earnest and Winnie served us our last authentic Kenyan meal before we left Kenya in July of 2009, and they served us our first one last week.

As we caught up on our lives and shared how God had blessed and taught us in our year away from each other, Earnest marveled at how big our boys had gotten. He also was somewhat envious, as boys are a sign of blessing in traditional Kenyan culture.

He told me that my boys would be able to “carry my stick” someday and explained the cultural allusion. When a man becomes an elder he has respect and authority in Africa. The stick that he uses to help him walk securely is a symbol of his age and power. If he has a son, the son may be given his father’s stick to symbolize his ability to carry out business in his father’s name. When a son has the father’s stick, it signifies that he has equal power and prestige as the father.

I was a bit humbled by his “vision” for my sons. Here I was hoping my boys would keep their dirty feet off his furniture and would not spill their drinks all over his floor and a variety of other worries that parents of small children deal with, while he was appreciating the blessing of children, and particularly boy children from his cultural point of view.

Another lesson I took away was the eerie similarity to John 14 and other sundry passages in the Bible. Jesus says that he comes “carrying the stick” of his Father—doing the work, acting on the authority, speaking on behalf of his Heavenly Father. Of course, the analogy doesn’t hold perfectly, as a Kenyan son and his Kenyan father are never in essence “one” with each other as Jesus the Son and God the Father are, but it is a cultural picture that gives us a glimpse of who Jesus was here on Earth.

Lots of wood last Saturday. I carried stumps in the morning; I learned about the joy of having sons to carry your stick in the evening. It was a well-rooted day off.

Stumps and Sticks, part 1

2010-09-17T13:33:00.002+03:00

Last Saturday, we had our first day “off” in about a month. Of course, even a day off is never totally a day off in the missionary life. In the morning, our school had a huge outreach day where staff and students serve the community around us with our time, strength, and money. My outreach particularly emphasized the strength.

Deforestation is a huge problem in Africa. Wood is one of their few sources of fuel, and the unprotected forests are a prime target for poor and opportunistic people. They chop down trees and branches, burn them into charcoal, and sell the charcoal to make money illegally.

Another problem is a lack of water. There are few rivers and streams in Kenya, and in many places, little rain. Certain trees are particularly absorbent of water, like the gum trees. So, a decision was made in our community to strip a particularly wood of its gum trees and replant trees that are less water-needy. The trees and stumps were then sold to buyers who could make eco-friendly (and legal!) charcoal.

The outreach project I participated in helped a man remove stumps from the woods. We loaded dozens and dozens of large stumps (ranging from 50 pounds to many hundred pounds) onto a truck which then transported them to the place where the man would make charcoal.

It was an exhausting morning for the 8 RVA team members and the 6 Kenyan men who worked with us, but in the end, we were glad to be able to help Kenyans act responsibly toward our planet, taking care of God’s creation while also providing them with a means or survival that is morally sound.

Tomorrow, part 2…

Live by the Internet, die by the Internet

2010-09-13T13:30:00.002+03:00

So one of the most pleasant surprises we’ve had in returning to our school in Africa this summer has been the Internet. A team of short-term missionaries from Chicago installed wireless routers throughout our campus and the school tapped into Kenya’s DSL line, so we actually have wireless Internet throughout the school campus and homes. Well, we should.

Although it worked perfectly through our first four weeks, it crashed hard this weekend. From Friday night until Sunday it’s been down. And what a weekend to be without!

First off, my juniors have a big Internet research project on the “American Dream” due on Monday. Scratch that. I’ve pushed that due date back at least one day.

Secondly, we had our first “day off” in a month on Saturday. We’d hoped to get caught up on email and do some Skype calls to family and friends in the U.S.. Forget that.

Thirdly, and most importantly, Penn State played one of their biggest football games in years Saturday night, and without Internet, I couldn’t listen to or read about the game. To REALLY pour salt in a wound, Micah (our six-year-old) woke up at 2am throwing up. I was up with him from 2am-5am—the EXACT hours of the PSU-Alabama game which I couldn’t listen to. Cruel, cruel irony.

Technology is great, when it works.

Crackberry Cracker, part 2

2010-08-25T22:23:00.000+03:00

Hoping to find someone who could unlock my locked Blackberry, I asked around the phone stores of Nairobi. Finally, I got the number of “a guy” who could do it. I called him (on Heather’s phone), and he said he’d meet me at the mall to take me to his shop. An hour later, I said goodbye to my wife and kids at the mall and got into the backseat of a little yellow sports car with the guy who could supply me with my Crackberry again. It felt like one of those moments in a bad TV drama where you just roll your eyes that the main character could be that stupid.

We wove in and out of alleys through parts of Nairobi I’d never seen before. Once we parked, we walked three blocks or so, slipped inside a tiny storefront, walked to a dark stairwell in the back, and climbed up to an 8x10 office with six Kenyan guys inside it. What in the world was I doing?

Of course, the Internet in their “workshop” was down, and the crowd of stalled people had me discouraged (and more than a bit afraid). As we waited, the conversation turned to cars. The men talked mostly in Swahili (of which I know little), but then my guy turned to me and explained what they were saying. He followed with some advice to me: “You can get all the Kenyan women you want if you drive a Hummer.”

I responded, “I’m happy with my Toyota truck and I’m happy with the wife that God gave me.” You would’ve thought a switch went off in this guy’s head. When I turned the conversation to God, my Blackberry cracker started shooting off questions at me like firecrackers. He had a stormy Christian background and was honest about the fact that he wasn’t following God anymore because he loved fornicating too much. I encouraged him to ignore the hypocrisy of Christians and to bask in the truth and glory of Christ. And I shared with him how the joys of marriage to one woman outshine the temporary pleasures of adultery.

An hour later, my guy was convinced that God had brought me into his life for a reason. He said he wanted to follow God again and just needed someone to remind him of God’s goodness. We agreed to meet again on a future trip to Nairobi, and of course, we could talk on the phone or text message each other for accountability and encouragement every few days.

And I would be able to do those things because while we were talking, his co-worker unlocked my Blackberry.

Now, you may be wrestling with the morality of this story. Go ahead. I’m not sure myself. Blackberry restricts me from using my own property, so I break the law and find a way to use my own property (paying for cell phone service now legally here in Kenya, by the way). While I’m at it, I find a lost sheep of the Lord and help bring him back to the flock. Sounds like a great case study for a Christian Ethics 101 course to me.

But here we are. Heather’s cell phone…unlocked. Ryan’s cell phone…unlocked. My Blackberry cracker’s heart…unlocked. Not the way I expected the story to end up at all.

Crackberry Cracker, part 1

2010-08-24T21:47:00.002+03:00

When we came back to the U.S. in July of 2009 for home assignment, we had an amazing supporter set us both up with cell phones. One was a nice basic phone (basic for 2009, that is) and the other was a new Blackberry. I, being the tech toy addict, gravitated to the Blackberry, and my wonderful wife reluctantly agreed that the highline gadget would find better use in my hands.

It was a tumultuous year with my Blackberry, filled with hours talking to AT&T and dozens of emails to tech support, but in the end, I figured out why they call it “Crackberry.” Me and my palm-sized assistant were inseparable. And to make matters even better, both of our new cell phones were purportedly “international phones,” meaning that we’d be able to insert Kenyan SIM cards and use them on the mission field.

The week before we left the U.S. I began the process of unlocking our two phones. Heather’s was easy. Mine was shockingly impossible. It seems that AT&T doesn’t have access to the unlock codes for their highline phones, so they have to petition directly to Blackberry. Although I was assured by AT&T that Blackberry would release me the code, they didn’t. My appeal then failed too, and I was left with the shocking reality that my Crackberry would be only useful as a paper weight in Kenya. I felt so violated. My love would be locked in a tower, held by the greed of King Corporation and his dragon of legal exclusivity.

I detoxed pretty well. Unpacking our boxes and suitcases in Kenya was a fortunate diversion away from my useless and lifeless handheld. After a week back in Africa, we did a shopping trip to Nairobi, and I began asking around the phone stores if anyone knew how to unlock a Blackberry.

And that’s when things got interesting.

Tomorrow, the story of the back alleys of Nairobi and how I came to find a man who needed his soul unlocked.

Excellent review

2010-08-12T09:26:00.002+03:00

For those of you who haven't found one of my new books yet, perhaps this review will tip the scales for you. Discerning Reader is a very reputable site that reviews new Christian books. Mark Tubbs found my books through a woman at his church who worked at Rift Valley Academy for two years, and after reviewing my first one, put my second one on his summer reading list as well.

Winter Spring Summer Fall Review on Discerning Reader

In Kenya

2010-08-05T07:10:00.001+03:00

We made it to Nairobi. Grueling trip. Lots of snags along the way. Two bags missing. Very jet lagged. Everybody healthy and safe though. Everything peaceful here in Kenya after constitutional vote. Heading to Rift Valley Academy at daylight. God is good.

A frickin' elephant

2010-07-25T17:12:00.000+03:00

You may have seen the chain mail being passed around about the little boy learning how to read. His mother was alarmed when he went to the zoo and kept asking to see "a frickin' elephant." She lamented the coarse language he was learning already in public schools and told him not to use the word "frickin'" anymore. Well, the next day, a commercial came on TV and the boy exclaimed, "There's a frickin' elephant." Again, she gently reminded him NOT to say frickin'. He was confused but agreed with his mother's rebuke. Finally, the mother sat down with the boy to read a book about animals. The boy pointed to the gray, floppy-eared animal and said, "See mom! Right there it says! A frickin' elephant."

Indeed, the caption said, "African elephant."

We had two funny learning moments lately from each of our boys.

First off, we were listening to some Jon Foreman (of Switchfoot) songs and while I was deep in appreciation for the lyrics, Micah blurted out, "Why did he say Africa, Dad?" Huh. I knew there was no context for "Africa" in this song. Next time the chorus came around, I listened closely.

"So why should I worry/Why do I freak out?"

Do you see it? When the SoCal songwriter sang, "I freak out," it sounded almost exactly like Africa. We all had a good laugh when we realized the misunderstanding.

Secondly, Asher's been having some separation anxiety lately. We think he realizes all of the change that is just around the corner. One day, he was sitting through a sermon at our home church in San Diego. He was behaving very well, coloring and writing on the bulletin.

When suddenly his head popped up, and he repeated the words he thought he had just heard. "Cinnamon roll?" he excitedly asked. Heather and I looked at each other and rewound Pastor Kenny's last few words in our minds. We smiled at each other and whispered, "Sin of the world."

Sin of the world or cinnamon rolls? I guess we each hear what we want to hear.

One month until kickoff...

2010-07-23T17:33:00.002+03:00

Summertime is here which means that football season is right around the corner. I'm taking a break from normal podcast topics to talk about the big story of the college football off-season--conference expansion. I hope you enjoy episode 25 and be sure to tune in for episode 26...more selections from my new book, Winter Spring Summer Fall: Living and Lasting in Missions.

On the move

2010-07-10T21:36:00.001+03:00

I'm not making any bets how often I'll be blogging over the next few weeks. Internet may (or may not) be spotty, and our schedule may (or may not) be dizzyingly busy as we pack up from San Diego and then from Pennsylvania as we head back to Africa on August 3. I might be able to blog along the way and keep you up-to-date on our eventful journeys or you might not hear from us until mid-August.

Check back in frequently and if there's not something new here, say a prayer for our boys in transition and for traveling mercies for us all. Thanks.

Anticipating the new (school) year

2010-06-30T16:29:00.000+03:00

The day is almost here. After nearly a year of home assignment, it’s finally time for us to return to Rift Valley Academy. The excitement has definitely been building, and while our hearts break for all of the goodbyes we’ll need to say over the next few days, our hearts are anxious to get back to the work that we love among the students and staff that we love.

But the most fascinating thing about RVA is that the school we left is not the school we’ll return to. Of course it’s true that the only constant is change for any institution and any series of relationship, but RVA’s nature makes its personality change far more than most places. I’m going to use numbers to try to illustrate this change. I’ll start with when we left and then highlight what happens among staff populations and student populations at the two key transition points for each school year—the end of a year and the beginning of one.

July 2009
30% of staff leave
10% on home assignment
20% terminating for good
30% of students leave
15% to graduation
10% for parents’ home assignment
5% termination of parents’ ministry

August 2009
30% of new staff arrive
10% return from home assignment
20% brand new staff
30% of new students arrive
10% return from parents’ home assignments
20% brand new students

Approximately the same changes will happen in July 2010 and August 2010. When you add up those changes, it looks something like this.

Staff
40% brand new staff in two years
10% on home assignment for 2010-2011

Students
40% brand new students in two years
10% on parents’ home assignment for 2010-2011

These statistics are staggering, even to me. In one year’s absence, the school will look fifty percent—50%!—different than it did before we left. In just one year!

What does this mean for us? Well, in some senses, it means that the school we left doesn’t exist anymore. It certainly means that we’ll have a huge learning curve as we return to the school. New staff to familiarize ourselves with. New students to meet. New policies and changes within the school institution. New relationship dynamics to adjust to. Not only that, but we’ll both be teaching new subjects on the academic side of things, while on the student life side of things, we’ll have some changing responsibilities as well.

There are some constants however. The Kenyan staff and community should remain fairly consistent. There will be anchors among the staff—the people who have been there for decades. But most importantly, God remains the same. God has guided RVA through the years—over a hundred years actually—in the midst of sweeping and drastic transitions every year. This is His school. There really is no human way to explain how a place can operate with 30% turnover every year and 50% turnover every two years, apart from God’s specific sovereignty and will for this place. He loves the unreached and poor in Africa, and he loves this school that supports the people who care for the unreached and poor in Africa.

Endorsement Week, part 5

2010-06-22T21:07:00.002+03:00

You know how Michael Jordan does underwear commercials and Bob Barker encouraged us to get our pets spade or neutered at the end of The Price is Right? Well, in the same vein that those spokespeople lent their fame to a worthwhile enterprise, I'm going to throw around my huge blogging weight this week with some product business endorsements that I think the 9 of you who frequently read my blog should know about.

I wrote this blog about ClearPlay filters back in January of 2009. For some reason, I never posted it. Weird. Anyway, here is the explanation of how Rift Valley Academy uses ClearPlay technology. I highly recommend this for families that watch movies and have kids in elementary, junior high, or senior high school.

ClearPlay website

"The Video Guy" blog...written when I was actually the video guy!

One of the most “unmissionary” kind of jobs I have is as the Video Guy for our school. As a school we provide a complete program for our students—from their education to sports programs to music lessons to weekend entertainment. While our students’ counterparts in the US can go to the theaters, watch 150 cable channels, and rent movies continually with their non-school hours, RVA kids can’t. They’d like to, but they can’t.

Thirty years ago, the only way our students got to see movies was when the US Embassy in Nairobi would get original film reels of Hollywood flicks. Often times though, those movies wouldn’t be appropriate for Christian students. And if they were appropriate, they’d often need words or scenes edited out because of bad language or content. In those cases, an assembly of 200 students would see a diligent staff member monitoring his watch to put a piece of paper in front of the projector and to pull the audio cable out at the precise moment of the impropriety.

Today, we have far more access to movies on our campus and luckily we have some strong technology to make the “editing” process smoother. But before I get into that, who decides which movies—of the hundreds that are released worldwide every month—should be circulated around dorms and households on campus?

The first step is the Video Preview Committee. Consisting of parents of younger children and older children and of staff who specialize in working with the different age groups, the committee meets once a week to a view a movie together and then discuss it. We then approve it for a certain age-level according to dormitories (1^st grade and up, 5^th and up, 7^th and up, 9^th and up, or 11^th and up), or we determine it to be inappropriate for any student at RVA. (We often pass movies around during the week to watch on our own and then talk about them.)

This step is no easy matter. Some parents are extremely liberal and allow their kids to watch anything. Some parents are extremely cautious and would rather their kids get as little cultural exposure as possible. The committee does try to err on the safe side so that we’re honoring the conservative parental point of view.

To help us further in our job, a great new technology has come up; it’s called ClearPlay. ClearPlay makes filters for movies and imbeds them into their DVD machines. Once the specific movie filter (which edits out various aspects of a film like profanity, sexual content, and violence) is in the machine, that DVD cannot be played on the machine without the editing. However, the way that ClearPlay gets away with “changing the content” of a copyrighted work is that they don’t actually alter the DVD in anyway. The technology simply modifies the way that the owner of the ClearPlay subscription watches it.

The next step is to burn a “ClearPlay” version of the DVD for campus use. The edited DVD then goes into our school’s library where dorm parents can check out the edited and approved movie for their students. The original DVD sits on file in the library (so RVA does officially OWN all of the movies in our library) while the approved version gets circulated.

Since the school’s ClearPlay machine and DVD burner resides at my house, I’m also able to help missionaries with their sermons and Bible studies by editing clips they need from movies. The job of “Video Guy” is time-consuming, but being a movie buff, the job is one that enjoy.

Endorsement Week, part 4.

2010-06-21T22:40:00.001+03:00

We're putting out a new prayer letter this week. If you're on our mailing list, be looking for it. If not, drop me a note and you can be on it! Our newest prayer card/magnet features the photography of Brian Howarth. He's a member of a supporting church in Julian, California, and he offered to shoot our family. Here's his website if you're looking for an ultra-friendly, Christian, and professional photographer in San Diego!

Brian Howarth Photography

Endorsement Week, part 3

2010-06-20T20:49:00.001+03:00

We're all grown ups here, right? We all are big enough to know that all people, whether they're Christians or pastors or missionaries, can be tempted. Right? Good. Today's recommendation is a technology that has been a lifesaver for me.

Covenant Eyes is not an internet filter. It's a software that logs and analyzes all of the websites you visit. Then, a compiled weekly report is sent to anyone you choose--a pastor, a spouse, an accountability partners, a parent, anyone--with scores. If you've visited some questionable sites that week, the score will be higher and the particular "risky" sites will be linked in the weekly report. Sometimes it flags things that are totally benign, but overall it's an extremely savvy tool for remaining pure while using the internet.

One of our supporters set me up with it, and I can't tell you the peace and joy I've had for the past two years that I've used it. If you have kids you're worried about or if you struggle with Internet temptation yourself, I can't recommend this software enough. It's a small fee to subscribe, but it could be a product that saves you and the ones you love unmeasurable pain and heartache.

Covenant Eyes website

Endorsement Week, part 2

2010-06-18T20:27:00.003+03:00

Today's endorsement might seem fairly random but hear me out. Shaun Farrell is my podcasting mentor and is a fellow bibliophile/literature-junkie like me. He and his wife just had baby #2, and so they've had some income adjustments this past year. Shaun has worked hard to break into the real estate business, and the first two years are excruciatingly difficult until you can get a client base.

When we visited him in Sacramento in April, he told me of a cool way that he can build business, even outside of the Sacramento region. He said that if people use him to get referrals for realtors in THEIR area--be it Atlanta or Dallas or Juneau, Alaska--he can grow as a realtor. So, here's my plug for Shaun.

If you are living in the 50 United States and are exploring buying or selling a house, visit the website below. Shaun can help you find a trustworthy and compatible realtor. I know he'll do a great job getting you connected. You have the "Strangers in Kenya" guarantee on that one.

Shaun Farrell of Lyon Real Estate

If you're a sci fi junkie, you might like Shaun's reviews and podcasts. Adventures in Sci Fi Publishing

Endorsement Week, part 1

2010-06-16T19:31:00.007+03:00

Two weeks ago, my wife and I went to a Family Life "Weekend to Remember" marriage conference. I have to admit, some of my motivation for going was to have a mini-vacation with my wife before we head back to Africa next month. My expectations of the content or "marital growth" were small. Boy, was I shocked! The conference was incredible. The speakers were both excellent, and the course materials were perfect. The best thing of all though was the homework assignments. There were a few pages of the coursebook that focused on questions for you and your spouse to talk about. We spent hours talking about our marriage and each other and really appreciated the way that these questions opened up our lines of communication. The price was good (especially considering how excellent the conference was), and the Hilton where it was held had fairly-priced rooms as well.

I highly recommend finding a conference in a city near you. They run them year-round. Even if you don't stay in a hotel, being there for the day and then going home at night to do the "homework" would be worth it too.

So much of our health and happiness as married people depends on our relationship with our spouse. Spending a few hundred dollars and dedicating 42 hours to your spouse alone are small prices to pay for a strong marriage.

Link to Family Life web site

I thought today was Friday all day

2010-06-10T00:18:00.003+03:00

It's 2:20 pm on Wednesday. I just came to the full realization that it is indeed Wednesday and not Friday.

I've spent the last three days engrossed in a research paper for my "Gospels" class at Bethel Seminary.

If you're a "The Office" fan, you'll remember the episode where Jim and Pam spent an entire Thursday convincing Dwight that it was Friday. It worked, and he came into work three hours late on Friday.

I didn't need anyone's tricks. I got confused all by myself. Does that make me a bigger loser than Dwight?

Rationing

2010-05-29T01:40:00.002+03:00

A friend asked me about my day recently. One of my details was that I went to Costco for the last time. The fact struck him as odd. I still had two months remaining of our home assignment in America. To a normal person who enjoys wholesale shopping, one month is a long time to not stock up. Would there not be time for another trip in 60 days’ time?

Not really. We’ve entered a phase that is a familiar marker for impending change for missionaries.

The rationing phase.

We’re currently in our third rationing phase of the past year. Our first came when we readied ourselves to leave Africa. In that case, we had four years worth of miscellaneous food supplies to gobble up.

You know how it is. Sauce jars used only once, cans of beans that were on sale, boxed meals that looked better on the supermarket shelf than on ours, mix packs that wouldn’t survive a year in storage. It’s nice to have those “extras” on the shelves in case of an emergency, but when you’re ready to pack up and leave, there’s no good place for them. Some is respectable enough to bequeath, some becomes landfill sod (or baboon trashcan dinner when in Africa).

And then you go. On to the next kitchen that needs stocking. You are more careful this time, having just given away oodles of food, but you still slip up by buying a jar of applesauce when no one in the family really likes applesauce. A few months pass and the rationing process begins again. In attempt to be less wasteful, you eat some awfully random meals towards the end. Like Top Ramen with chopped peaches or pork chops with McDonald’s ketchup packets. Nevertheless, bags of groceries will be left behind for fortunate friends who will feast in your memory when you’ve gone.

And in such a manner our third attempt at rationing this year begins. We’ll make a meal menu and carefully choose our grocery basket fillers. We’ll watch the bottoms of our fridge and freezer and cupboards reappear. But in the end, we will again lose the fight to ration.

(If you’re interested in a Tupperware of frozen refried beans, let me know. First come, first serve.)

Kids say the darndest things, part 3

2010-05-17T06:00:00.003+03:00

First off, when he started kindergarten in San Diego, it was now all-day kindergarten. Going from three hours in a structured setting to six is a significant leap. Not only that, but San Diego public schools have become extremely rigorous and stringent in meeting the state standards for education, even at the kindergarten level. And while we loved Micah’s report of his first kindergarten teacher in Pennsylvania (“Mrs. Muller says we’re not here to have fun; we’re here to learn.”), his new kindergarten teacher is even more diligent about assuring academic improvement.

When it was time to introduce himself to his 25 new classmates, Micah told Heather, “Mom, I don’t want to tell them I’m from Africa.” My interpretation of this statement is that the novelty of being “unique’ had worn off on him. It’s fun to get people’s attention when you tell them your background, but there comes a time when you’ve had enough of being different. You just want to be like everyone else around you. I think Micah hit that point in San Diego.

His words a few Sundays ago confirmed that thought. While we were on our road trip to Sacramento, we attended church with our friends Kevin and Kaci. Before we even got to the church, Micah said he didn’t want to go to Sunday School. He’d said that before, but this time he was nearing tears. Heather probed a little further and got a reason out of him.

“I don’t want to tell them my name.” Now it wasn’t just about telling strangers he was from Africa; he was tired of introducing himself again. He wasn’t just tired of being different now; now he was tired of being new. In our nine months in America, Micah has been to about fifteen different churches, and even in the ones we’ve visited multiple times, the youth workers are rarely the same person twice. He’s probably had three dozen different Sunday School teachers and has sat next to a few hundred different kids in the past 36 weeks. Put yourself in those shoes as a six-year-old. It breaks my heart to think about it.

Heather helped him over that particular hurdle with a compromise. We knew he’d hate being in the main church for over an hour, so she agreed to introduce him to everyone in the kid’s room. He agreed. As long as he didn’t have to tell anyone his name.

Kids say the darndest things, part 2

2010-05-15T17:57:00.002+03:00

One of the first questions that comes up in conversations right now is about our kids. Micah spent four of his first five years in Africa, and Asher spent all of his first two. So it’s fascinating and worrisome and intriguing to consider how they’re handling being back in the U.S. for home assignment.

The first and initial transition was easy for Micah and hard for Asher. We moved to Pennsylvania first last July. For Micah, his world became doting relatives and exciting trips to the beach and stimulating half-day kindergarten. He loved the food and the extra time with Mom and Dad (which he didn’t get as much of during our African assignment). He handled it great. Asher, on the other hand, had his entire life upended. His house, his nanny, his toys, and his environment were gone. His first month was a bit rough.

Then, we went to San Diego just before Christmas. Asher did amazingly well. Our reserved and hesitant two-year-old morphed into a boisterous, confident, and outgoing nearly-three-year-old. And while I don’t want to exaggerate and say that Micah did poorly with this transition, he definitely didn’t thrive as much. I think the second huge change in less than six months time took its toll on him. I’ll let his own words express his feelings...on Monday.

Exciting week

2010-05-06T21:47:00.002+03:00

My seminary has a thing called "reading week" where we get a week off from classes and assignments. I've been doing a little reading, but mainly I've been getting my new book up to the place where my old book is at. Also, Heather updated our web page. Check out the Photo Albums and the "What's new?" page as well. Great job by her!

Amazon Kindle for Winter Spring Summer Fall

Mopipocket Ebook for WSSF

Web page for WSSF

Murphy Ministry Web Page

Kids say the darndest things, part 1

2010-04-28T20:38:00.003+03:00

As I mentioned a few blogs ago, we went on a road trip last month to Northern California. Our last visit was with Brian and Erin, a couple who worked alongside us in Africa during our four year and six years prior to us as well. Their four kids provided endless entertainment for our two boys, and Brian and Erin had more great stories on top of that.

First, kids who grow up in Africa pride themselves on the exotic animals they’ve seen. If you can get a picture of your prize, even better. So when their oldest son first returned to North America and saw a squirrel, he insisted that his parents take a picture. They hesitated. He asked, “Are they endangered?” His parents assured him they weren’t. A few months later, while visiting the mountains east of Sacramento, he saw a common woodland inhabitant grazing in a meadow. His eyes opened wide and he uttered in amazement, “Wildebeest!” His grandfather calmly corrected him—“Deer.”

The second story is also tied into the “deer” identification theme. There is a miniature deer (about as big as a feline) in Africa called a “dik dik,” pronounced like two nicknames for Richard in a row. Well, their second son was playing computer games for a long time one day, and Erin casually observed that the boy was “addicted” to video games. The four-year-old turned around gruffly and rebuffed, “I am NOT a dik dik!” He thought Mom was insulting him.

Lastly, their kids attend a Christian school in the area. And when their daughters young classmates found out she was from Africa, they began to boast of it around the playground. A certain second-grader caught wind of the blond-haired, blue-eyed white girl proclaiming her African heritage and felt compelled to correct her. You see, he was an African-American, and he looked a bit different than her and was taught that Africans aren’t pale skinned. A verbal argument ensued, and the two just escaped coming to blows.

It’s tough being a kid these days.

Can I be a boy when I grow up?

2010-04-17T19:38:00.000+03:00

All right this is a huge treat for you all. After five years of my blatherings, finally you get a fresh voice on Strangers in Kenya--my better half, Heather! She told me this story, and I immediately thought of my blog. Luckily, she too thought this was a must-share story, and she even agreed to write it up! So, here it is. A dialogue from the budding gender analysts in the shopping cart of a Michael's craft store. Told by mom Heather.

Asher: Mommy, look a princess party! I want a princess party!
Mom: Asher, princess parties are usually for girls.
Asher: Mommy, when I grow up can I be a girl?
Mom: No, when you grow up you’ll be a boy like you are right now.
Micah: Asher, guess what?
Asher: What?
Micah: You don’t want to be a girl ‘cause guess what?
Asher: What?
Micah: If you’re a girl and you’re taking a shower you have to be in there for like 20 minutes, and guess what?
Asher: What?
Micah: If you’re a boy you only take a shower for a few minutes, and guess what?
Asher: What?
Micah: If you’re a boy you get to watch scary movies and have dinosaur parties and scary Halloween parties!
Asher: Oh. (thoughtful pause) Mommy, when I grow up can I be a boy?
Mom: Yes Asher.
Asher: Mommy, when I grow up can I have a scary Halloween party?
Mom: Yes Asher
(Asher smiles.)

New podcast episode

2010-04-15T20:23:00.002+03:00

Have a listen...

Bill Davis Interview

...either at the site above or on iTunes.

MP3 of one of my messages

2010-04-09T23:36:00.000+03:00

Heather and I have had about a dozen chances to share on Sunday mornings this year during our home assignment. My friend Steve's church recorded it and posted it on the church's website. Click below to have a listen.

Spring Valley message from February 28th

There was a problem with the video, so you might just want to fast-forward five minutes through that choppy part.

How weird are missionaries?

2010-04-01T03:00:00.002+03:00

I’ll be the first to admit that Christian missionaries are some of the weirdest people on the planet. I mean, come on. How many human beings up and walk away from their families and friends and familiar culture and go to a foreign place of their own volition, powered by the inaudible calling of an invisible God who made Himself known in a tiny country in the Middle East thousands of years ago. It doesn’t make much human sense.

So I when I tell you about the couple we met for the first time by driving an hour each to a mutually agreed upon McDonald’s location in a random place in the middle of California, you shouldn’t bat an eyelash, right? Even if the town is called Yuba City, right?

We’re on one of little “home assignment road trips” right now, and yesterday spent time with four different couples who live in the Sacramento area. Each visit has been completely wonderful and an awesome blessing to us, but I want to tell you about the last two families we saw today.

First, the Yuba City McDonald’s people. We first heard about Karl and Laurel in Africa about three years ago. Our co-workers at the time were thrilled that a young family from their home church in Paradise, California (Really? People would leave “Paradise” to go on the mission field? It’s true.) was considering coming to Rift Valley Academy in the future. Well, God led this family along to a place where they are just three months away from starting their first missions experience in Africa. Having connected with them through this blog and on Facebook, they knew about our trip towards their neck of the woods and suggested we get together.

The middle ground between Paradise and Sacramento? None other than Yuba City. And where is the center of American culture, the very locus of our nation’s heartbeat? What institution brings people together and christens new friendship like no other? The Golden Arches of course.

Our visit went great, but I’ll spare you the details of keeping five children entertained in a fast food restaurant for two hours. The main topic of conversation was Rift Valley Academy. They had lots of questions about this place they’ve never visited (we hadn’t either when we went in 2005), and we got to hear their excitement and apprehension about this monumental life change. For us, it was sheer joy, not only to be making new future friends, but also to help unveil the fabulous and rich world that awaits them around the corner.

Fast-forward two and half hours to our next visit. (Although Brian and Erin live just 45 miles from Yuba City and there was no traffic, it did take us 150 minutes to get to their house. Don’t ask. Just accept that 1996 minivans don’t have GPS, and I’m a moron.)

Brian and Erin are friends from Rift Valley Academy who worked with us during our first four years there. When they came back to the U.S. to have a baby in 2008, their home church suddenly dropped four missionary families from their payroll (in favor of short-term summer trips) and finding new support was impossible. After a decade on the field, they shockingly found themselves no longer missionaries, by no preference of their own. (I write about them in Part Three of my new book Winter Spring Summer Fall: Living and Lasting in Missions, available May 1 through Father’s Press. Shameless plug.)

Our visit with them was quite different. After a year and half away from Africa, they just now feel like they are beginning to settle back into America and accept fully God’s will for them. Although they’ve sensed God’s presence all along, they’ve struggled to overcome passionate desire to be back in Africa. Our conversation with them didn’t involve any convincing or easing their doubts about living in Africa. They had been there, and they and their kids knew how great it is.

Our first visit involved a family perfectly settled into America and transitioning to Africa; our second a family perfectly settled into Africa and transitioning to America. Both families talked about sadness and grief over what they were leaving, apprehension and uncertainty about the limbo land in which they are living, and excitement and anticipation about what is to come for them in their new areas of life and ministry.

But despite the different directions these families lives are headed, it was particularly settling to hear testimony of the leading and the provision of God for each. God is indeed in control.

(P.S. Karl and Laurel are still raising support. Click here to help them get closer to Africa.)

Opening chapter from my new book

2010-03-26T22:56:00.001+03:00

Listen to it here!

Selections from Winter Spring Summer Fall: Living and Lasting in Missions

Prayer Update

2010-03-24T00:45:00.003+03:00

I usually keep my blogs and my prayer letters separate, but I've been so busy with my new book release that I haven't written anything lately. Here is last night's update.

Ryan finished his first seminary class. He's gathering further training to help him in his mentoring/counseling roles at Rift Valley Academy. It was the perfect course for him..."Cross-cultural Counseling." The two main things he got out of the class were A) relating to people of other cultures truly requires a new way of thinking and B) counseling isn't about having all the answers but helping people find the truth (God's truth) on their own. He'll take "The Gospels" with Dr. Mark Strauss and "Family Systems" with Rev. Powell through Bethel Seminary next term.

Heather continues to lesson plan for the Rift Valley Academy history department overhaul next year. There have been numerous hurdles along the way over the past three years, but it appears that the textbooks are finally bought and are on their way to Africa.

We've had lots of great visits so far in San Diego, but we still need to get together with so many of you. Please call or email us if you have a good time to get together. We don't want July to be here and to not have seen you. We're driving up to the Sacramento area to visit friends and supporters this week...please pray for traveling mercies.

Heather's still subbing at local schools. Ryan's working on his book and other writing projects. His book is due for release on May 1, 2010. We attached a flyer for his "Book Release Party" at a local bookstore. The best way to get it is when you see us in person, but if you would rather order some, send us an email. His publisher is offering a great rate for orders of 10 or more.

We've had some health troubles recently. Ryan has a stress fracture in his foot and had strep throat last week. Heather seems to be coming down with it tonight. More significantly though, Asher was diagnosed with asthma. We're glad he's on medication now, and we're hoping he's more comfortable because of it. We're also hoping that this is the kind he'll grow out of as he gets older. Many children do at 5 or 6 years of age.

We celebrated both of our boys' birthdays in the last month. That's probably the greatest lesson the Lord is teaching us right now. Time here on earth is so short. Every moment we have together is so precious--time with friends and family, time where memories are created. Eternity is literally a breath away for each of us, and we want to make the most of it, whether we're resting our heads in San Diego, York County, or Kijabe. And making the most of it for Christians means making the most of Him at every opportunity.
Ephesians 5:15-20 Be very careful, then, how you live—not as unwise but as wise, making the most of every opportunity, because the days are evil... Sing and make music in your heart to the Lord, always giving thanks to God the Father for everything, in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.

We've reached the half-way point in the San Diego leg of our home assignment. We have a lot left to do before July, but we are so encouraged and grateful for God's goodness to us. Thanks for your support all along the way. Please keep praying for us; we know you are.

My first "green" post

2010-03-07T03:29:00.002+03:00

“Our enormously productive economy … demands that we make consumption our way of life, that we convert the buying and use of goods into rituals, that we seek our spiritual satisfaction, our ego satisfaction, in consumption…. we need things consumed, burned up, replaced, and discarded at an ever-accelerating rate.” Victor Lebow, retailing analyst circa 1940's

I just watched a great short film (20 minutes) on the psychology of consumption, the exploitation of the Third World (like Africa!), and the destruction of our ecosystem. And in case, this sounds a bit too technical for you, there are stick figure illustrations along the way. (The drawings kept me hooked!)

The Story of Stuff web site and 20 minute video

2010-02-28T11:34:00.003+03:00

Today concludes February. The short month. The month that can never quite make it to 30 days. The month that falls short.

So, in honor of this, the last day of the short month, I have a sad tale of falling short.

You see, I didn't PLAN on falling short. In fact, my plan was brilliant. As some of you know, we bought a MAC computer this year. Well, we tried to take advantage of having relatives in Delaware, land of the "zero" sales tax. By buying the computer online and having it shipped to Delaware, we saved about a hundred bucks in sales tax. Missionaries are always looking for a way to save a dime, and so we planned for my mom and step-dad to get the computer from my aunt and uncle in Delaware and bring it out to California in March. It was a good plan. Really. It was.

That is, it was a good plan until three blizzards fell in the Mid-Atlantic states in February, the most collective snowfall in modern history. Suffice it to say, that little travel happened between PA and DE during the month, and the computer remained snowbound in the "First State."

So, we resorted to Plan B. My uncle shipped the computer to us this week, and once the boxes and postage and insurance was tallied, the figure came to more than a hundred dollars. The good news is we got the computer, and it's all in one piece.

And I guess the bad news goes without saying. Sometimes trying to be smart just doesn't work out. Good bye February, good bye snow (hopefully), and good bye futile attempts at saving a nickel.

"Managing Transitions" by William Bridges

2010-02-18T21:43:00.003+03:00

Since missionaries go through more transitions than the general population, I thought this business management classic might have something to offer me. It did. These first two month in San Diego have been harder than expected, but the book describes what's been going on inside of me with textbook precision. Although it aims to help business managers get their people through changes, I read it not only with personal application in mind, but also with getting my children through the migratory lifestyle of missionary children.

The next few weeks my "Quote of the Day" blog will have some golden quotes I found inside "Managing Transitions" by William Bridges. Check back in frequently for new nuggets of insight.

Quote of the Day on Wordpress

A taste of “home”

2010-02-11T21:26:00.001+03:00

We’ve passed the half-way point of our home assignment now. People have been asking us—almost from day one stateside—if we missed Africa yet. While we can’t give an unequivocal “yes” to that question, we’ve had plenty of pangs of homesickness. Homesickness for that other “home,” the one over there.

My first one came a month after our return. I was showing the new Rift Valley Academy video for the first time to a church, and I found myself nearly crying. It truly took me by surprise. I had another twinge during our school’s basketball season; I really miss coaching. A few weeks ago my friend Mike sent a picture of my language helper building a garden cage to keep the baboons out, with his six-year-old son perched next to the architect. And I even miss RVA for its trials. I wish I could have been there for the challenges and victories of the H1N1 outbreak recently. Weird, I know, but we love the good and the bad about our homes.

Last night, I had a wonderful experience. My friends Ray and Deni know a Kenyan immigrant who is my age, and she invited the three of us over for a Kenyan meal. Her brother was also visiting from Kenya, and between the meal (githeri, sukuma wiki, chicken stew, and rice), the conversation (talking about our shared knowledge of Kenya and their experiences of immigration to America), and the language practice (they were Kikuyu, the very tribal language I am learning!), I felt right at home. I can’t tell you how refreshing it was to taste Kenya again, both literally through the food and figuratively through the leisurely meal.

(The picture above is of the Kenyan rugby team. Our hosts are going to watch Kenya’s team play in a Las Vegas tournament this weekend.)

Low priority, high fun

2010-02-07T22:53:00.003+03:00

When it comes to my priorities right now, my seminary class, taking care of my boys, and working on marketing for my new book are top 3. Somewhere near the bottom of that priority list--or maybe scribbled on the margin next to the perforated edge--would be playing around with video editing.

However, after six months of owning a computer with video editing capabilities, I finally made it happen. My first video...long overdue and promised to our friends the Warntzs. I hope you enjoy it!

Missionaries Detained in Haiti

2010-02-01T18:14:00.005+03:00

Our TV usually goes right to cartoons in the morning, but this morning it started on "Good Morning America" and a segment on American Baptist missionaries detained in Haiti.

Read the story.

The story behind the story isn't clear yet. It'll probably never be reported, actually, because the "dirty" headline involves missionaries breaking the law and the crisis in Haiti, which will probably pass soon from the eye of the media. I only write this blog to share two possible insights from my experiences in a Third World country where adoptions by Westerners are common.

I think this situation plays out in one of two ways. I'm not sure which will be found to be the truth.

1. The missionaries did everything according to the law. They followed proper procedures, the same procedures that hundreds before them followed, but ran into an opportunistic and corrup government looking to bribe more money from Westerners. Perhaps the missionaries didn't want to pay off the officials. This would incite unjust men to act selfishly and corruptly, and to slander the work of good people in a tragic situation.

2. The missionaries weren't following the laws of the land. Perhaps because they were untrained (short term visitors?), perhaps because they felt like the chaos meant the normal laws weren't in place, or perhaps because they felt like their good intentions justified breaking the obvious law of the Haitian people (and the international community).

I hope we can hear the outcome of this story reported with the same platform (national news, headlines, etc.) as we did the initial outbreak. I hope #1 turns out to be the reason why these missionaries are in jail. In either case, prayers are crucial.

God is so Other

2010-01-20T01:20:00.003+03:00

Before we left Rift Valley Academy last summer, Heather and I met with our school’s superintendent for a debriefing about our four years in Africa. Of the many things discussed, one was the future. In essence, we all felt like it would be good for me to get more training regarding ministry, counseling, and leadership in our field. Home assignment seemed like the perfect time to get started with such a program.

Well, the fall in Pennsylvania came and went. I did a little research regarding programs and direction, but nothing really transpired. We were so busy with building new relationships with individuals and churches and refreshing old ones (not to mention the writing and revision process for my second book) that the training got pushed off.

As the new year began, we found ourselves in a new place and a new phase of home assignment. This time, my inquiries into a program for training didn’t stall at all. In fact, everything blew wide open last Wednesday. I’ll spare you every minute detail (hours of meetings and applications), but the Cliff Notes edition would sound like this: Man gets call about seminary program in morning. Man attends first class at night. The End.

Of course, it’s not that simple. It seems that seminary isn’t free. (Who knew?) I guess you could say that I overlooked that aspect of things. My wife patiently dealt with my naivete, as I told her we needed to pray for the answer.

The obvious answer was to send out an email to our prayer team. We could let them know about our need and see how God would move from there. We’ve had dozens of people tell us through the years, “If you ever need anything, let us know,” but it’s hard to know if they are talking about buying us a burrito, giving us an old pair of jeans, or helping us with tuition. In our financial situation as support-based missionaries, this seemed like the best option.

However, as I prayed, I felt the Lord pushing us in a different direction. I felt He was nudging us to wait on Him, to literally do nothing but trust in Him to provide for this particular need. This didn’t make a lot of sense to me (or to Heather); it felt very, very risky to just allow our outstanding bill to loom out there unplanned for. But this is what we decided to do. Just wait and trust.

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried this. Maybe you feel like it’s irresponsible and naïve. Or maybe you feel that something like this is the kind of thing you need more of in your life. Little ways (or maybe big ways?) where you simply get out of the way with all your human understanding and let God be God.

On Friday, I was already doubting my decision. If you’re looking for a storybook portrayal of flawless faith and titanium-tough trust, try the next blog over. But Friday afternoon, an email came in describing three separate financial gifts to our ministry. Taken together, they will pay for 2/3 of my tuition for this winter and spring.

Shock. Total shock. It’s one thing to trust, and it’s another to be rewarded. God is so Other. He’s just so much more different and awesome than anything here on Earth.

(This is not the time or place to theorize about suffering and the silence of God. These are a part of the human experience too. I know that. I might go through the wilderness as I wait for my remaining tuition. Who knows? But this isn’t the place for that; this blog post is a story of God’s gracious ways.)

I hope you will “taste and see that the Lord is good” (Psalm 34:8) with me. He loves to come through for us. And while I don’t know what the next five to ten years will bring as I crawl through this degree on two continents, the only thing I know for certain is that He’ll never come through in the same way twice. He’s too creative and magnificent for that.

For more information on the training program, click Bethel Seminary.

Advertising works

2010-01-12T02:29:00.002+03:00

While I was sitting on the missions house couch today doing my final editing for my new book, my five-year-old son walked up to me. He said, "Dad, do you know what Blu-ray is?'

I humored him and said, "No, what is it?"

He said, "It's the place where we can watch all our favorite movies."

Glad to be back under the influence of American advertising again.

Final podcast episodes of 2009

2010-01-06T03:23:00.000+03:00

If you haven't listened in lately, nineteen episodes of my podcast are loaded with over 1,000 downloads this year. I'm working on my 2010 shows now as I also finish up my book Winter Spring Summer Fall: LIving and Lasting in Missions.

Podcasts

My "Quote of the Day" blog is still going strong as well. Bookmark or Favorite that site for daily (or almost daily) inspiration.

Quote of the Day

If you've never read my first book, head over to Amazon and get it today.

All That You Can't Leave Behind on Amazon

How's your holiday spirit?

2009-12-31T01:05:00.004+03:00

It's been nice attending services here in California the past few weeks. Don't get me wrong--I love speaking and sharing. But it's a nice change of pace to simply worship from the pews. The last church I spoke at in Pennsylvania was on December 13. If you were there, you'll remember that I shared my key verse for the holiday season--James 1:19. "Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak, and slow to become angry." I'm glad I chose that verse, because in all of the stress and intensity of the primarily joyful holiday season, it's really bailed me out a few times. I'm grateful that the Lord used these words to remind me and encourage me when my sinful nature felt like being slow to listen and quick to speak and become angry.

I definitely have a lot of growing to do this next year, and I just need to remember that I'm not in this thing alone. The spirit of Christ is in me every day of the year.

Moses, part 3

2009-12-23T05:08:00.000+03:00

When people utter things like “you never know when you’ll go” and “life is fleeting,” nobody really believes them. Human beings are frequently amnesiac about their own mortality. Moses’ death, however, brought me face-to-face with that reality. And in view of eternity—an eternity with God in heaven for those who choose Jesus and an eternity separated from God in hell for those who rely on their own strength—I consider my relationship with Moses an epic failure.

Sure, I don’t actually know his spiritual state at death. I don’t know him well enough to know if his choices were in the direction of life and God or of death and destruction. Only God knows the true state of anyone’s heart. But from the indications I’d seen, this is man who did not know the Lord.

I had open doors to share more about Jesus with this man, and yet I failed to make eternal truth a priority. Instead, I took care of hundreds of errands and enjoyed time with my wife and kids in the city each time I traveled close to Moses. Multiple trips passed, months passed, and yet I never did my part.

As I drove home from Nairobi that evening, tears frequently hit me as I thought of his tragic ending and my selfish failure as God’s tool.

I picked up the phone and called a family member that night. I told this person about Moses’ death, and I told this person about salvation and heaven and a relationship with Christ. I told this person what I hadn’t said face-to-face in all of my dozen years as a Christian. I don’t know the effect of that conversation and may never know it here on earth. But I know that I shared the most important truth you can share with a loved one. And I know that I made the simple truth of the Bible, truth that can get muddled or glossed over in church, known to this person: God wants to forgive you if you’ll admit that you were wrong.

That’s all we’re asked to do. Love God. Love others. Time is short, and no chance to love should be put off until tomorrow.

Moses, part 2

2009-12-21T05:06:00.000+03:00

My wife is an amateur hair stylist. She cuts our boys hair and has taken a few whacks at mine in the past. Of course, I’m a much more picky and fussy customer than our children, and so it wasn’t unusual for my haircuts to take 90 minutes or so for her to appease my vanity. After numerous cuts, we finally decided that for the good of our marriage I should probably just go to a professional in Nairobi.

I found a young man named Moses at an outdoor mall and began to employ him every other month or so. Over time our relationship grew. We had a lot in common, and eventually I shared my testimony of how God changed my life. He was open to spiritual things, so one day I found him in between haircuts and gave him Rick Warren’s The Purpose-Driven Life. He was excited to receive a hardback book and told me he would read it.

At my next haircut, Moses enthusiastically told me that he had read it already. I was amazed. I told him we should get together and talk about the book. I hoped to see if Moses had given his life to the Lord or if perhaps I could help him take steps in that direction. We didn’t set up an appointment.

The next time I got my haircut (another six weeks or so had passed) we talked about getting together again. And again, I felt a burden to sit down with Moses and talk about Jesus, partially because of the alcohol I smelled on his breath as he cut. A man who reeks of liquor at mid-day probably isn’t experiencing the free and joyful life Christ intended for him. However, our trips into Nairobi are usually so busy (as we do a months worth of errands at a time) that the meeting was never set.

Another few weeks passed and I went to the shop where Moses worked. I called Moses early in the morning to ask him when he could see me for my hair. A relative answered his phone and proceeded to tell me a shocking story. Moses had died a week earlier in a house fire.

I went into the shop to talk with his co-workers, to grieve with them, and to learn more of his story. He had fallen asleep with candles burning in his one room apartment and the curtains caught fire. Fortunately, his wife and son were sleeping at her parents’ house that evening.

I'll finish the story on Friday.

Moses, part 1

2009-12-19T05:02:00.000+03:00

When we were at the National Youth Workers Convention in early November, I attended a seminar on “Reinventing Gathering” by Mark Novelli, a mega-church youth pastor who learned some hard lessons about running a program. One of the observations he made is that youth today have a blurred line between private and public information. MySpace, Facebook, and Twitter have brought about a culture where kids will share their deepest emotions among hundreds of acquaintances on the Internet but can’t share anything of import amongst each other face-to-face.

The “public versus private” debate is one I’ve tangled up in as a blogger and author. If communication isn’t authentic and honest, my writing will lose its potency. On the other hand, how much should I share about the thoughts and words of my wife and kids? Where do I draw the line between exposing too much of my own thoughts and hiding the real “me” from readers?

Earlier this year, I experienced something that I have been unable to share until now. It was an event so personal and spiritual that I felt baffled about how to write about it. I feel sufficiently distanced from the event now to try and bring this private story public.

More on Wednesday.

My take on Tiger

2009-12-13T23:27:00.000+03:00

“Love and faithfulness meet together; righteousness and peace kiss each other.” Psalm 85:10

I cracked open my Bible this morning and read this verse. God knew what I needed.

I’ve been really upset the past few days about the Tiger Woods situation. I know it seems pretty random to be disturbed significantly about celebrity gossip, especially when that celebrity isn’t one I’ve necessarily adored or followed through the years. I hate golf and I’m not a subscriber to Us or People magazines. Yet, I’m profoundly saddened by what has been revealed over the past week.

In this age of reality TV, the best stories are the one’s that unfold before our eyes in the lives of our cultural icons. Tiger’s “transgressions” therefore are a box-office hit. While we crave stories to entertain us and teach us about life, the stories that are real impact us a thousand times more than a fictitious telling on the stage or screen.

Some of us may lament for Tiger as the tragic hero whose fatal flaw has caused him grief and personal destruction. Others may take a less serious approach and joke about his dalliances as if Tiger’s story were really just a comedy where the joker is caught with his pants down on stage. I think the true impact, the one that a society cannot exactly put into words anymore, hits at the very fabric of marriage.

Gay marriage may be the rallying point for moralists everywhere, but the story of Tiger (not so much his individual sins but the hype and hoopla surrounding his crash and subsequent confessions) attacks the institution of marriage just as hard, I think. Here you have, in front of billions of souls worldwide, a man who, in a worldly sense, had everything. A drop-dead gorgeous wife and two beautiful children, more money than he could ever spend, and expertise in his fame-drenched profession. But despite all that Tiger had, there was something he didn’t have. Contentment.

Sadly enough, discontentment among married people often expresses itself in affairs. The lie is that a different partner will bring pleasure, excitement, and adventure, and perhaps those will lead to contentment. But it never comes. Yet that message is never clearly portrayed in the “news” which is supposedly only interested in the facts of life. Although the media has intrusively interfered with this young marriage, it speaks on behalf of a relativistic society that claims no moral judgment may be interposed.

While society and I may not be allowed to judge, God is. Psalm 85:10 says that love and faithfulness are connected. While the news bombards us with stories of sin and unfaithfulness, we need to take notice—there is no love in this story. In Tiger’s marriage, in Tiger’s sexual affairs, love is absent. If we try to permit whole and perfect love into any part of this story, we’re twisting things. This story of unfaithfulness is not a story of love.

I point this out because every time we hear about this story, we think about lust and infidelity—the very enemies of married love. Men and women who aren’t diligent with their thoughts and beliefs, therefore, will welcome their enemies inside, perhaps daydreaming for just a few minutes about a secretive affair or the excitement of forbidden sex. If we compare ourselves to Tiger and Elin—who aren’t content with life—then surely we will be able to find discontentment and ingratitude in our own lives. This is the true, underlying message of every news story released about Tiger, not that affairs cause destruction but that we all have something to be discontent about. I’m troubled by the destruction that follows when discontentment grows.

Tiger Woods sure doesn’t have much peace these days. Sure, none of us know him personally, but it’s not hard to imagine what must be going on inside of him and inside his family. Sad stuff, but not surprising. Peace doesn’t kiss unrighteousness, as Psalm 85:10 says. Peace comes to those who fight to do what is right, and inside of marriage, faithfulness and contentment are God’s absolute commands for loving our spouses.

Our house and our history

2009-12-07T00:37:00.001+03:00

Raise your hand if your first ancestor to America is buried in your front yard.

Hmm, no hands. Wait, is that one in the back? No. Just scratching her head.

Well, my hand is indeed up. The picture above is of Joseph Murphy’s tombstone, the first Murphy born on American soil. His father (also Joseph) emigrated from Ireland in 1794 and three years later had a son. Together with wife Alice, Joseph lived his life in Brogue (a few hundred yards from where he was buried) and was a founding member of New Harmony Presbyterian Church. From there, every generation for over 150 years has had a Murphy on the membership roll.

Now, his great-great-great grandson is living on the church property of the church he helped start. That’s cool enough, if you ask me, but there’s another cool connection. Both my great-grandfather and my grandfather were married in this house. It used to be custom for young couples to pay a small fee to have the minister marry them in his home (with his wife as the witness). According to another local pastor, the tradition morphed into the enormous church wedding ceremony we know today when footage and pictures of Queen Elizabeth’s wedding in 1947 convinced every Western woman that the fairy tale could indeed be hers too.

We have been incredibly blessed these past months to live here in the New Harmony manse, but our gratitude doesn’t just stop with these generous people of today. We’re also grateful for the heritage of faith passed down by men and women of God on both sides of our family.

Our manse is like a mansion

2009-12-04T00:04:00.000+03:00

For the past five months, we’ve been living in a manse. I had no idea what a manse was before I moved into one, so if you need further explanation, I’m happy to oblige.

A manse is a parsonage or pastor’s house according to the Presbyterian denomination. In days of yore, reverends usually lived on or next to church property. Nowadays, fewer and fewer pastors live like this, so the old houses are either sold or destroyed. New Harmony Church, in Brogue, PA, faced this crossroads in the early part of this century. The manse house next to their church (pictured above) was built in 1899, and its historical significance for this congregation was great. In the end, they decided to refurbish the house with two goals in mind—offices for pastor and secretary and temporary residence for missionaries.

In late 2006, the remodeling project was complete, thanks to hundreds of volunteer hours from the congregation and thousands of dollars of donations. While it was utilized as offices immediately, its second purpose (two bedrooms and one bathroom for missionaries) wasn’t realized for about two years. How we came to be the first residents is really a cool “hand of God” story.

Having grown up just 10 minutes north of the church, I had memories of this place from summer picnics and family reunions on my mother’s side. I also knew that my uncle, great-uncle, and grandfather attended the church. What I didn’t know was how deep my Murphy family history was at New Harmony (more on that tomorrow) or how a family inheritance paid for much of the renovation of the manse.

My grandpa Workinger (now in glory), who was known all over our county as a gifted tenor vocalist, had a close cousin who attended New Harmony. Cousin Walt and his wife didn’t have any children, and they intended for some of their inheritance to pass to my grandfather if they died before he did. Alas, Walt’s wife Hilda passed a few years after Grandpa Workinger, and so the full amount of their will came to New Harmony. Hilda was pleased to learn that her money (as well as others contributed by New Harmony members) would go towards the manse project. It’s fascinating to see how God orchestrated that “family” money to bless family members in ministry (and others outside of our family in the future of course).

Monday, I'll post the “other side” of my family connection to New Harmony.

Final thought on Heaven

2009-12-01T00:16:00.001+03:00

Like I said, Heaven is a life-changing book. If it's real and if all the Bible tells us about it is true, then we'll spend infinitely more time "there" than we will here on earth. It also makes sense that our thoughts and focus should be on "there" infinitely more than it is.

Alcorn relates this story: Florence Chadwick, a great swimmer who had already swam the English Channel, attempted to swim from Catalina Island to mainland California in 1952. It was a rainy, foggy day, and her mother encouraged her from the rescue boat for miles past her point of exhaustion. Yet, she quit less than a mile from the shore.

Afterwards, Chadwick said, "All I could see was the fog..I think if I could have seen the short, I would have made it."

Amidst life's fog, I pray that you will have a clear vision of what God has in store for you for eternity if you've put your faith in Jesus Christ. Heaven helped me.

More thoughts on Heaven

2009-11-29T00:48:00.001+03:00

One of the most common questions by Christians or seekers is "What will we do in heaven?" Play harps and sing all day?

Alcorn uses many, many references for this next group of ideas about what we will do in heaven.

Good works, run the universe, serve, continue using our unique giftings, create culture, sing, dance, tell stories, make music, laugh, and play are all strongly supported in scripture. The following aren't scriptural, but Alcorn argues, "Why couldn't these be possible?": sports, craftsmanship, trade, business, technology, machinery, travel, space travel, and time travel.

The main reason Alcorn says "YES!" to all of these possibilities is that the New Earth will be similar to the current (old) earth...only BETTER. He says that perhaps what we do on earth will only be like a hint or a flavor of the real thing that God has created in Heaven. His logic is "Why would Heaven be less complex and dynamic than earth?"

Thought Three

2009-11-27T00:34:00.000+03:00

Here are simply some of my favorite quotes from the book Heaven by Randy Alcorn.

"If you read history, you will find that the Christians who did most for the present worlds were just those who thought most of the next." -C.S. Lewis

"Aim at Heaven and you will get earth 'thrown in'; aim at earth and you will get neither." -C.S. Lewis

"In heaven we'll have all the time together we want. Right now there's kingdom work to be done." -a missionary commenting on whether or not she missed her family in America

"Rather than ignore our imagination, I believe we should fuel it with scripture." -Randy Alcorn

"God is creator, and he created us to be creators. Hence, what we create is an extension of God's creation. He accepts, embraces, and delights in our creation." -Randy Alcorn

"I believe our resurrection bodies will have adrenaline and the ability to feel. We take pleasure in exhilarating experiences not because of sin but because God wired us this way." -Randy Alcorn

Idea #2 from Heaven

2009-11-25T00:05:00.000+03:00

This next point has tons of scriptural references in the book...but I'm just going to summarize the concept. It's pretty mind-boggling.

When we die, we do go to heaven. But our existence in heaven won't be the same for eternity. Alcorn differentiates between these two experiences by calling our first state the "Intermediate Heaven" and the second state as the "New Earth." Once Christ returns, the dead in Christ will be given our resurrection bodies, and thus will begin our final eternal state on the New Earth. Heaven will literally come to earth with the return of Christ, and we will inhabit the earth in our immortal resurrected bodies for eternity.

A life-changing book

2009-11-23T22:35:00.000+03:00

Every few years I'll come across a book that shakes up the way I look at the world. As a teenager, it was Thoreau's Walden; his thoughts on spirituality and nature became mine. Having fully rejected the Christian faith, More Than a Carpenter by Josh McDowell forced me to reevaluate the historical accuracy of the Bible. Of course, the Bible is the best book ever written, so I can't leave that one off my list. (Pretty good author there. Maybe you've heard of him? God!) Then in college, Abba's Child by Brennan Manning taught me so much about God's unconditional love for broken people. As a young man, Wild at Heart by John Eldredge showed me what it means to be a man and gave me permission to live dangerously for God.

I think I've come across another book like this--Heaven by Randy Alcorn. I'm going to give you some of my favorite thoughts and quotes from it until you're fully convinced of its awesomeness and you go out and read it.

Idea #1: The idea of paradise when used in reference to heaven is closely reminiscent of the Garden of Eden. Alister McGrath said, "The idea of a walled garden...was the most powerful symbol of paradise available to the human imagination, mingling the images of the beauty of nature with the orderliness of human construction."

This is shocking to me because I never figured that human beings had anything to do with participating in either the Garden of Eden or heaven. But God has allowed us to participate with him in his work on earth, so why wouldn't he also make heaven a place where we contribute as well? Everything we do (on earth or later in heaven) comes from the abilities God gave us, but the result is something that has both our fingerprints on it as well as his. Paradise will be beautiful for its natural beauty and God's children's creativity.

Everything is amazing and no one is happy

2009-11-15T18:30:00.001+03:00

We went to the National Youth Workers Convention in Cincinatti, Ohio, two weeks ago, and so Heather and I are still digesting a lot of what we learned there. It's kind of an interesting time delay, though, as we have all of these vivid ideas about youth ministry but we're about 8 more months away from being back with the youth in Africa that we work with. I'm sharing some of the best thoughts over on my "Quote of the Day" blog, but I wanted to share this clip that one of our speakers used at the conference. His topic was youth and technology, and you'll see how that fits in to comedian Louis C. K.'s interview with Conan O'Brien.

I have two disclaimers though. One, he uses some foul language. Two, this generation is not the worst generation ever, as Louis states.

We were on Jay Leno last night

2009-11-10T22:18:00.004+03:00

While Jay might not have invited us as special guests on the show (yet), we are working our way up there. During his "Headlines" segment, he had the blurb from our local newspaper about our "Africa Night" event we did on October 18.

Re-defining a "Missionary Dinner"

My mom and step-dad called us at 10:15 completely flabbergasted. They told me the story about how we were on Jay Leno. I think I laughed for about an hour straight. I had no idea that our headline would be on there. I have no idea who submitted it to the show. Of course, the show didn't contact (nor will they) about having our picture and headline on the show. It was just one of those sudden crazy things.

We called friends and family on the West Coast immediately to let them know to tune in when it aired in their time zone. The Doughertys burned a copy to DVD for us, and David Wright captured it and put in on YouTube.

They say everyone has 15 minutes of fame, and this definitely counts towards ours. Fourteen minutes and forty seconds still awaiting us in our future.

Quote of the Day available again

2009-11-07T10:58:00.000+03:00

I took advantage of my uncle's high speed Internet this week and did two months worth of quotes.

Quote of the Day over on my Word Press blog

Web page update

2009-11-03T06:44:00.002+03:00

Lots of new picture albums. Ministry updates. Working links. I hope you can cancel your plans for the next two hours. This internet invention is addicting.

http://murphy.kijabe.org/Murphys_Website/Welcome.html