Pastor Steve Richards

Last week, we (Amanda and me) spent a day hiking in Bandelier National Monument. We spent our day in one valley, and at one point hiked a mile to the top of the ridge. The ancestral Pueblo people arrived in this valley in the mid-13th century, building villages on the valley floor and also living in caves carved from the canyon walls. By the 15th century, the people moved on to other areas of what is now New Mexico. We spent our day exploring many of the caves, climbing the ladders to get inside their homes and see the petroglyphs painted on the walls.

The ancestral Pueblo people left no written history, and yet archeologists have learned much about the way they lived, how they established community, and the values that were important to them – all this just by uncovering what they left behind.

This week, I read the book, “Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life”, by Richard Rohr. He suggests there are two halves to life. The first half of our life is about finding the starting gate. It is creating the container of our lives and what makes us significant. But the second half of life is claiming the meaning and purpose of our lives and living into that meaning and purpose. To do that, we’ve got to leave home (i.e. our comfort zone) just as Abraham and Sarah left their comfort zone to go to the place where God would lead them.

As we hiked and learned about the ancestral Pueblo people, I realized that regardless of my intentions, my life, my words and actions, will echo into the next generation. What is important to me? I am already answering that question, even if I’ve not been doing so purposefully. But, in reading Rohr’s book, I can claim the second half of life purposefully using my past (challenges, struggles and even failures) as the foundation for what is important to me. Often I give lip-service to what’s important. I can list what’s important to me, but one day an archeologist (or a great, great grandchild) will uncover what was truly important – because my life will echo into the future.

It was interesting to learn that today’s Pueblo people believe their ancestors still live spiritually at Bandelier. We see the reminders of their lives and literally walk in their footsteps.

I am leaving footsteps. Am I leaving the footsteps that I want others to re-visit? I wonder…as I live into the journey.

It was 30 years ago this month that Bruce Springsteen released his song, Born in the USA. At that time, I was living in Duluth, serving two struggling churches in two struggling neighborhoods. This was before Duluth had discovered the importance of developing the waterfront for tourism. Iron mining and shipping had taken big hits and manufacturing plants had closed, resulting in high unemployment and not a lot of hope. We had arrived in Duluth fresh from school and eager to put our degrees to work. After four years of trying, Amanda was only able to piece together a couple of part time jobs. But Bruce Springsteen’s anthem to the hardship of the working poor resonated among the people in the neighborhoods where we lived.

If you know the song, it was written in response to the challenges that Vietnam veterans were facing ten years after the end of that war. The song, however, called forth a patriotism that had been missing during the years that this nation was so conflicted over the Vietnam War. As a nation, we may be hurting – as individuals, we may be in the grip of unemployment – but we are “born in the USA.” There is a hope and a resilience that these things will not defeat us. That’s the spirit of being an American.

Amanda and I returned to this country on July 4. During the flight home and in the days that have followed, I have returned to a question that I was asked by a little girl named Zubeda. She asked a lot of questions. Soon after we arrived at Light of Hope School on a Thursday evening, she took me hand and with several other girls gave me a tour of the campus. All along the way, she asked one question after another: what is your favorite color? what is your favorite food? what is your favorite thing to do? By Sunday, her questions forced me to think before answering: what’s your favorite subject? what’s your favorite Bible verse? And finally this question: What is your favorite thing about your country?

What’s your answer? Remember this is a child who is asking. My answer, though I admit that I’m still reflecting on other possible answers, was the ability to travel anywhere. I was doing something that she could not do, even if she had the financial resources. It is unlikely that she could gain a visa to enter the USA, but as an American, I have the freedom to go almost anywhere in the world. And in the USA, I am free to travel. I am not stopped on the highway each day in order to pay a bribe. We have a highway system that makes travel manageable. I told her that my children live more than a thousand kilometers from me and yet we can travel to see each other. It seemed a way to describe freedom that she might understand.

In the weeks since I returned, I’ve thought a lot about why, of all places we could travel, that we would choose five weeks in Kenya. Then I heard my answer in Genesis 12. Blessed to be a blessing. Abraham was called to make a journey to only God knew where, but if Abraham would go, he would be blessed. We went to Kenya, hoping to bless somebody, because we have been blessed incredibly. Just the view from the car window made that clear. Walking through town made that even clearer. Talking with Zubeda made that absolutely clear. We are blessed. We took five weeks in an effort to be a blessing. I hope we were successful. But this much I know for sure, we were blessed – and are blessed.

Born in the USA…

This morning (Wednesday), I gave a Bible to a young man and together we read from Philippians 4. I don’t know when I’ve seen such a big smile on someone’s face or heard such gratitude.

On July 1-2, Amanda and I volunteered at Heshima Children’s Center (www.heshimachildrenscenter.org) in Nairobi. Heshima provides services for children with disabilities and their mothers. Amanda offered music therapy to the children. I listened to the stories of the staff (many of whom are also the mothers of the children) and prayed with them.

On Wednesday, I met with the moms. I listened to their stories and what it is like to have a disabled child. This is a culture where often the birth of a less than perfect child is seen as a curse. This is a culture where often a disabled child is kept at home out of view from others and fed very little until that child dies. But these mothers wanted more for their children. One had welcomed the child as her own when her parents no longer wanted the child. Another watched as her husband left her, unwilling to be a associated with a wife who would have a disabled child. Each story heart wrenching. One mother carries her 11 year old child from her home to Heshima and back again. It is a walk that takes her an hour – longer when it rains and the roads are muddy.

Heshima provides therapy for the children, treating each child with dignity. And as you might expect, the children thrive on the care and love that they receive. It is the kind of care we take for granted in America. I asked if I could pray with them. Their requests for prayer are too personal for me to share here, but I was taken by how confident they were that if we prayed their prayer would be answered. Having heard the miracles that some of them had already witnessed, I too believe it is only a matter of time until each prayer is answered.

On Tuesday, I met with the men who work at Heshima. I spent time, listening to their life stories and how they came to faith. That’s when I met Chris, a guard at Heshima. Like so many places in Kenya, the compound is surrounded by a stone wall topped with razor wire. 24 hours of the day, a guard is on duty to open the front gate and watch that no one breaches the wall. It is an indication of the desperate poverty that anything of value must be guarded.

Chris is a young man who went to school through the eighth grade. He was unable to go to high school because that would have required money that was not available. Without a high school education, he was grateful to find a job as a guard. He attended a church revival last year and came to faith. He had never attended a church previously but he found one and was baptized. Chris shared with me the challenges that he faces and how he wants to live a better life as a Christian. How does one learn about this better life as a Christian? And then how does one live that way especially when what is familiar is not the way of Christ? Chris wants a better life but he does not know what a Christian life is.

Do you have a Bible? I asked. No, he replied. If you had one, which language would you prefer? (Swahili, English or his traditional language) English, he said. I think I can do something about that.

So, that evening, I found a book store and purchased a Bible in a translation that would be easier for someone with an eighth grade education to understand. The next morning, I greeted Chris and said, “I have something for you.” As I gave him the Bible, he had a huge smile and eagerly opened the book. It felt to me like I had not given him a gift but a lifeline. I had placed a bookmark at the gospel of Mark and suggested that’s where he could start reading. Chris was a new Chrisian, wanting to live a better life, but he did not even know how Jesus lived. But now he had a way.

And then I turned to Philippians 4, and we read together these words: Fix your thoughts on what is true and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things things that are excellent and worthy of praise.

And he looked at me – tears in his eyes – and said, “thank you.”

Each morning when I awake, I thank God for the day and then I offer my life to God. Each day, I am hoping that God can use me in some way. And I thought, God is good all the time…

Speak, Lord, your servant is listening. (1 Samuel 3:10)

Before I made my first trip to Kenya in 2009, someone who had already made the trip recommended that I spend part of each day listening. Just take time apart from everyone and listen, he said. As I approach the final days here, I wish I had done more of this. I have wrestled the entire trip with wanting to be in control of the schedule and what to do while also wishing I could let go and simply live into the journey.

While at Light of Hope, I was drawn to one of the gazebos to sit and listen for at least a few minutes each day. Light of Hope is located far enough from the main road that the road noise is not a constant. In the distance, I could hear the sound of construction – everywhere there seems to be construction of some sort. But unlike the US, the construction sounds do not involve machinery – more often a hammer against stone. I could hear the farm animals (chickens, turkey, cows, and even the sound of goats munching on the grass). And the voices of children – voices from inside classrooms and the laugher of children playing in the playground. And amid this cacophony of sounds, there was a silence – a peaceful silence – broken only when some of the girls discovered where I was and came to join me.

Sunday morning as we walked through the gate at Light of Hope, we could hear the singing of children coming from inside the dining hall where worship was beginning. There is something special about hearing such singing as we arrived for worship. Especially when that singing is unaccompanied and simply the voices of children all singing grateful praise.

I was asked to give the sermon. I selected the shema from Deuteronomy 6:4-5. “Love The Lord your God with all your heart, all your soul, and all your strength.” Why would God want us to love God? I asked the children. Because when we love as God loves we become the person that God created us to be. And we are able to love others with God’s kind of love. We are able to be a jamani (neighbor). Then I offered holy communion – something many of the children would receive for the very first time.

And there was a moment as Amanda and I served the children. Out of the silence with children walking forward to receive the bread and the cup, unprompted, a child began to sing “Jesus Loves Me”. And soon the room was filled with every child, not just singing but proclaiming that she is loved.

And I listened. Girls who have come from some of the worst living conditions imaginable, many orphaned, some HIV positive, all of them the recipients of hope and singing “yes, Jesus loves me; yes, Jesus loves me.”

Yes Lord, your servant is listening.

Today (Friday, June 27) a prayer was answered.

Each time that we have been at Light of Hope, we have had the privilege of participating in the rescue of girls from a place of hopelessness and bringing them to Light of Hope.

Miriam, the director of LOH, and Hilda, the social worker, invited Amanda and me to go to a home outside of Karate. It was a small 3 room house made from stones, mud, and a metal roof. It had a dirt floor and part of one wall had collapsed, meaning there was no safety or security to found in this home. A trough was dug in the floor, because when it rains the home floods. If ever they have anything of value (food, for example), it is stolen. The house is situated by a stone quarry. The father took his own life in 2010 after learning he was HIV positive. He hung himself in the bedroom, leaving behind a wife and four children. A fifth child was born after another man made a promise to the wife but ran off when she became pregnant. The singular goal each day is to survive that day. Frankly, even that seems hopeless. There is no such thing as a future. The children range in age from 2-15 years, but all of the children are malnourished and appear much younger than their age.

The mother and children work in the stone quarry, breaking stones just in case today might be the day that someone would pay them for the stones they have. Rarely is today the day. The only water that they have is ground water (a stream that is currently small pools of standing water). Honestly, most of us would not even allow animals to live in such conditions. Word of mouth referred this family to LOH. On this day, the mother had been told the social worker would bring a visitor to her family. The mother did not know today would be the day a prayer would be answered. As we entered the home, I said to the social worker, “today the direction of their lives changes forever.”

Two girls would come to LOH this day. I am so glad that I was not asked to say anything, because my struggle was to keep from crying. They were asked to collect their things. They each put a couple of clothing items in a bag, but their thread-bare clothing would never be worn again. Two bags of groceries were left with the family. Then the mother holding her baby climbed into the car with her two daughters. The other children would wait at home for their mother’s return.

As the car entered LOH, the students were singing. Immediately my thought was this must be what it’s like to be welcomed by the choir of angels at God’s heavenly gates. What did these two girls do to deserve this – nothing. This is the power of grace and hope at work in this world. Every girl that was singing had been in the place of these two children who had been at a point of utter hopelessness.

As her two daughters were welcomed by the girls of LOH, the mother stood weaping. Today her prayer was answered.

Within the hour, the two girls were showered and given new clothes and shoes. What a privilege to be a witness to answered prayer. You, people of Messiah, made this rescue possible.

It is important to have a dream. In fact, I think God-sized dreams are best – the kind of dream that on our own we could never fully accomplish, the kind of dream that can only be fulfilled when we let God take control.

Today, Imara International is only able to serve ten young women and ten babies because that is as much space as is available in the current facility. Therefore, Imara is in the process of purchased twenty acres of property to begin constructing a village that can serve at least five times the number currently possible. Even this will serve only a fraction of the need in this country, but it is a start, and for each teenager it is likely the difference between hope and hopeless, life and death.

So, on Wednesday, you, Messiah Church, did a good thing. You provided the funds to take the young women currently at Imara on a safari (swahili words for “trip”) to see this new property and begin to catch the vision that they are the pioneers of something much larger than can be imagined. This is not an easy thing to do – catch the vision. When your world has only begun to feel secure from the abuse of the past and you have yet to fully trust anyone, it is difficult to see yourself as whole much less becoming the first part of something that you can give to others.

We hired two matatus to take us the 40 minutes over dusty, rocky, dirty roads. We stopped to purchase a dozen trees for planting. We drove through the beautiful countryside, along parts of Ol Pejeta conservancy (we saw zebras and antelope), past farmland and across a river to twenty beautiful acres of land with a winding river along one side.

We walked along the river, looking for signs of hippos and dreaming about what will be. We ate our picnic lunch of pb&j sandwiches, and then planted the trees. Another group had planted a couple dozen trees during a prior mission trip. Most of the girls got involved digging the holes and watering the newly planted trees. And before we left, we prayed.

Remember when Moses was tending sheep for his father-in-law and suddenly saw a bush that was on fire but not being consumed by the fire. Out of the bush, the voice of God spoke: Take off your shoes for you are on holy ground. On June 25, we declared these twenty acres to be holy ground. We dedicated this ground, these acres to God, because what will emerge on this ground can only flourish if God is the guardian and guide. I gave each girl a tiny stone cross – and asked her to take one for her child. I invited mother and child to find a newly planted tree and to plant that cross with the tree, praying that God would bless what is emerging and help it (the tree and the dream) to flourish.

As we left that afternoon, several of us walked the length of the property. Carol shared the dream of what is planned, but I followed quietly giving thanks for what God will accomplish.

Standing on holy ground…

I don’t know its source, but there is a saying: Live simply so that others may simply live. It is a catchy turn of words, but with all respect to the sentiment intended, it is not as simple as that, is it?

In Africa, I am learning to do with less. When I see that there are people here living comfortably with less than I brought in my suitcase, I’m not about to complain about what I am missing. Let me be honest, I’m writing this at a coffee shop that looks much like one we would find at home. I was able to take a hot shower this morning. I will have three good meals today, and if I wanted something, I have the means to hire a driver to take me into town to get what I want. A few days ago, we rode past homes being built inside Ol Pejeta, the wildlife conservancy. The homes look similar to homes being built in Plymouth, so that the homes will appeal to westerners. Our driver told us the price tag, thinking we would be surprised by the cost – 20 million Kenyan shillings. But that’s just $225,000 – a bargain! Living in Kenya, it would not be necessary to live with less. But I’ve been thinking about what I want and what I need and what defines my life. And what would God want for me?

Saturday morning, we went to market. At home, I love going to the farmer’s market, and this was the Minneapolis Farmer’s Market on steroids. The quantity of produce was impressive. Bananas right from the tree, mangos, popo, pineapples, potatoes, zucchini, onions, tomatoes, oranges, and so much more – even chickens ready to be taken home and butchered. Once again, the youngest children were fascinated by my presence. Carol and I were the only mzungus that I noticed in the market, but I think it was my size as much as my skin color that prompted the waves, the smiles and the giggles. Shake hands with this giant mzungu, and you’d have something to tell others when you get home! As is normal here, there are two prices for the produce – depending on the color of one’s skin and the ability to speak Swahili. And boda bodas everywhere. The boda bodas are motor cycles for hire. We’ve been amazed by the things we’ve seen hauled by motorcycles. (In Nairobi, it was a couch!)

As we came to the end of the market, Carol pointed out the matumba. This is the clothing market. Rows and rows of vendors selling clothing. The clothing is shipped in large bails from the US and Europe. It is the used clothing that has no useful purpose for Americans. The quantity of used clothing is especially impressive when one realizes this is just one of a great many such markets throughout the developing world. Do we really have this much excess? I think of my own home with closets that are bursting with clothing forgotten long ago, and I feel a little ashamed. I guess there is comfort in knowing my discarded clothing serves a useful purpose. It also explains why we see some people walking around in designer clothing – not knowing that it is designer clothing. Live simply and let your castoffs benefit others around the world.

This trip is about what lessons God can show me – if I’m willing. I see the marketplace. I see a contentment in what those around me have. Could there be a message for me in all of this? So, I opened the book of Proverbs to this verse: Honor the Lord with your wealth. (Proverbs 3:9) And a few verses later, these words:
Blessed are those who find wisdom, those who gain understanding.

Living into the journey…

In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of every human life. (Job 12:10) These words follow a declaration by Job that even the animals know that God is the Creator and never lets go of them and us.

These words settled on my heart as we left Ol Pejeta Wildlife Park on Tuesday. Like every day, I was reflecting on what one thing God might have for me in the day’s experience. This was the one day in our trip that we designated as our holiday. We were picked up at 6:00 a.m., before sunrise, by our guide, Peter. We rode about 20 minutes to the entrance to the park, and with the sun rising over Mt Kenya our safari began. For the next ten hours (with a stop for lunch), we rode through this 125,000 acre park looking for wild animals. It is always an amazing experience to ride in an open sided Land Cruiser, stopping within feet of animals that could easily put an end to our lives (a pride of 16 lions, for example, resting beneath a tree not more than a dozen yards in front of us). It became a message about God’s peaceable kingdom when neither human nor beast feels threatened.

I began reflecting on the greater message of good and evil from human hands. From God’s hand comes life and goodness, and when we fully reflect the image of God that’s what comes forth from us. But we humans have the ability to choose what is evil when we focus on what seems best for us. That message came to me in two stops, both pictured here.

Chimpanzees are not native to Kenya, but within the park a large chimpanzee rescue has been constructed to continue the work of Jane Goodall. Chimpanzees are an endangered species, their greatest threat is humans. Our guide told us that there are more chimpanzees in captivity around the world than in the wild. Their habitat has been destroyed for human use. Many have been taken as pets (which rarely ends well) and hunted as food. What God has created, humans have destroyed – intentionally and unintentionally. But now there is this effort (not without controversy since chimpanzees are not indigenous to Kenya) to care for chimps that have been mistreated and injured. Humans are caring for the wounded creatures by providing a haven of security. One of the frustrations for visitors is that it is difficult to see the chimpanzees – but then, the refuge is not for our benefit but the chimpanzees. There is a small viewing area in which is it only possible to see a chimpanzee if it happens to come close to the viewing area. We were fortunate to see three of them in our visit.

And then there was Baraka (the swahili word for blessing). He is a ten-year old black rhinoceros that is blind. This park has dozens of rhinos, and we were fortunate to see both white and black rhinos. The rhinoceros is endangered, because of poaching for its ivory horn. A fully grown rhinocerous weighs about 2 tons, and to cut off the horn, poachers kill the animal. There would be no poaching if there weren’t a market for ivory and a price worth taking the risk of poaching. But here was Baraka, one eye missing a result of a fight with another rhino and the other eye rendered blind as a result of disease – and yet his life preserved. The point of his horn cut to reduce the value for poachers, then placed in an area where he is guarded.

We are living and walking amid great contrasts. In many ways, we see how life has little value. We hear the reports of tribal violence (In the media, you hear it reported as Muslim terrorists – but it is more complicated than that. There are reasons why advance warnings of attacks go unheeded as one tribal group attacks another.) We see the harsh and frankly, inhumane living conditions all around us. Try living on two dollars a day for an entire family! The hopelessness devaluing all of life. And yet, we also see valiant efforts by persons within Kenya and persons outside this country giving resources to championing life and providing great effort to say even one life has value. Your giving allows you to proclaim the value of life and to stand here as a co-Creator with God.

In God’s hand is the life of every creature and the breath of every human life. Amen.

In his hand is the life of every creature and the breath of every human life. (Job 12:10) These words follow a declaration by Job that even the animals know that God is the Creator and never lets go of them and us.

These words settled on my heart as we left Ol Pejeta Wildlife Park on Tuesday. Like every day, I was reflecting on what one thing God might have for me in the day’s experience. This was the one day in our trip that we designated as our holiday. We were picked up at 6:00 a.m., before sunrise, by our guide, Peter. We rode about 20 minutes to the entrance to the park, and with the sun rising over Mt Kenya our safari began. For the next ten hours (with a stop for lunch), we rode through this 125,000 acre park looking for wild animals. It is always an amazing experience to ride in an open sided Land Cruiser, stopping within feet of animals that could easily put an end to our lives (a pride of 16 lions, for example, resting beneath a tree not more than a dozen yards in front of us). It became a message about God’s peaceable kingdom when neither human nor beast feels threatened.

I began reflecting on the greater message of good and evil from human hands. From God’s hand comes life and goodness, and when we fully reflect the image of God that’s what comes forth from us. But we humans have the ability to choose what is evil when we focus on what seems best for us. That message came to me in two stops, both pictured here.

Chimpanzees are not native to Kenya, but within the park a large chimpanzee rescue has been constructed to continue the work of Jane Goodall. Chimpanzees are an endangered species, their greatest threat is humans. Our guide told us that there are more chimpanzees in captivity around the world than in the wild. Their habitat has been destroyed for human use. Many have been taken as pets (which rarely ends well) and hunted as food. What God has created, humans have destroyed – intentionally and unintentionally. But now there is this effort (not without controversy since chimpanzees are not indigenous to Kenya) to care for chimps that have been mistreated and injured. Humans are caring for the wounded creatures by providing a haven of security. One of the frustrations for visitors is that it is difficult to see the chimpanzees – but then, the refuge is not for our benefit but the chimpanzees. There is a small viewing area in which is it only possible to see a chimpanzee if it happens to come close to the viewing area. We were fortunate to see three of them in our visit.

And then there was Baraka (the swahili word for blessing). He is a ten-year old black rhinoceros that is blind. This park has dozens of rhinos, and we were fortunate to see both white and black rhinos. The rhinoceros is endangered, because of poaching for its ivory horn. A fully grown rhinocerous weighs about 2 tons, and to cut off the horn, poachers kill the animal. There would be no poaching if there weren’t a market for ivory and a price worth taking the risk of poaching. But here was Baraka, one eye missing a result of a fight with another rhino and the other eye rendered blind as a result of disease – and yet his life preserved. The point of his horn cut to reduce the value for poachers, then placed in an area where he is guarded.

We are living and walking amid great contrasts. In many ways, we see how life has little value. We hear the reports of tribal violence (In the media, you hear it reported as Muslim terrorists – but it is more complicated than that. There are reasons why advance warnings of attacks go unheeded as one tribal group attacks another.) We see the harsh and frankly, inhumane living conditions all around us. Try living on two dollars a day for an entire family! The hopelessness devaluing all of life. And yet, we also see valiant efforts by persons within Kenya and persons outside this country giving resources to championing life and providing great effort to say even one life has value. Your giving allows you to proclaim the value of life and to stand here as a co-Creator with God.

In God’s hand is the life of every creature and the breath of every human life. Amen.

On Monday, we visited a project that Messiah funded through our 2012 Christmas offering.
I will admit that I take water for granted. I assume there is more than enough water and every bit of it clean enough to drink. Maybe one needs to live in a region of the world where that is not the case to fully appreciate Jesus’ words – “I am the living water.” On Monday, we visited Nyarigano Primary School. It was about a 15 minutes drive down a bumpy, dirt road. Fortunately, it had not rained since Friday or I’m not sure the car in which we were riding would have made it on the dirt roads.

We arrived during the lunch break. With us were staff persons from the Kenya Rainwater Association, a non-profit that works with schools, farmers, and small communities to utilize rainwater for personal needs and irrigation. Much of their funding comes from sources in Europe. Together, Messiah (through our US partner, H2O for Life), Kenya Rainwater Association, and the local community, we have constructed a system to collect and store rainwater for drinking, food preparation, hand washing and irrigation. We have also funded 18 latrines that are currently under construction. This partnership includes parent participation so that there is a local investment and a sense of ownership and responsibility for these resources. Persons on three continents have come together to make this happen. Sometimes it takes a world to make a village.

There are moments in this trip when I wish all of you were with me. You are the ones who should be honored and thanked. As we arrived, the entire school gathered in the area between classrooms. Amanda and I along with two of the girls from Imara that we brought with us and the staff from Kenya Rainwater Association were seated in chairs before the student body. We were welcomed, a teacher offered a prayer of gratitude, then each teacher introduced him or herself. After each introduction, the students applauded. Then each guest introduced him or herself. I described you as a people with a heart to help others around the world, a people who have been blessed by the opportunity to give and to serve. A small group of students provided a song and a dance. Then I presented gifts: soccer balls (prompting a cheer), pencils, books, bars of soap (a visit by others from Messiah three months ago included a hand washing demonstration), and perhaps most importantly over a thousand sanitary pads (applause by the girls and snickering by the boys). Don’t underestimate the importance of sanitary pads for families unable to afford such things. Often school is missed during a girl’s period each month or we were told how girls often resort to using corn cobs in order to remain in school. The staff person from KRA was most impressed that you would provide such items.

The program ended and we were given a tour. The head teacher was extremely proud of what he could show us, even demonstrating the hand washing himself, wanting us to see the first hole dug for the latrines, and then demonstrating for us how the garden is irrigated from a system that collects rainwater. The garden is maintained by the students with the produce supplementing the school lunch. One teacher took me aside to show how they are growing trees from seeds and then selling the trees to earn money for the school. Kenyan children are provided schooling through the 8th grade as long as a family can afford the cost of the school uniform. But each day, we see many children who are not going to school.

Water is not everything, but without it, how is anything else possible? The school existed before we arrived on the scene with the funding to make water and sanitary latrines possible. But on your behalf, I witnessed the gratitude and the pride in what you enabled. It isn’t just water, but living water has been offered. It is being the hands and feet of Christ to children you will never meet and never see. Does that really matter? Matthew 25:35 – Jesus said, “I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink.”

And a postscript to our visit: as we prepared to leave, the teacher of disabled students began describing the children in his class. His plea was for help so that a child who cannot hear could receive a hearing aide. Sadly, we had to tell him we could not meet that need. It is a reminder that the needs are great. Everywhere we turn, there are needs and prayers that so far have gone unanswered. And on this day, we could not provide an answer for them all. But we could do something – and in the name of Christ, you have.

It’s complicated. Step back and contemplate the religious scene in America, and it is not uncomplicated. But here in Kenya, it is different. Part of what I was hoping as a result of an extended time in this country was that I would experience culture in a way that was not possible in previous guided trips. Unlike the US, we see the message of Christianity all around us here. Words and phrases are printed on the outside of shops and vehicles. Yesterday we traveled to Nairobi and back to Nanyuki and most of the buses, matatus, and trucks covered with references to God, Jesus and salvation. To be fair, we also passed churches that were painted with advertisements for gum and baby diapers! (Maybe a new funding tactic for Messiah – or maybe not!)

From several websites that I checked about 80% of Kenyans are Christian (a third of these are Catholic), 10% are Muslim, and the other 10% comprise other religions or no religion at all. But just as in the US, it is not as simple as the numbers indicate. We walked through town today (yes, mzungu walking) and it appeared more people were not walking to church than were. With church windows wide open and amplification at full volume, the sounds of praise and worship sometimes felt like a competition to see whose message is the most overpowering. We walked past a large church of no particular denominational affiliation and it was silent even though throughout the week we heard singing and preaching filling the marketplace from that building. With the marketplace silent, that church is silent. In this town, we’ve seen churches that are part of denominations that we would recognize, a mosque, a Sikh temple, and buildings and tents clearly Christian but without any affiliation. We’ve listened to comments by whites and Kenyans, and it’s complicated.

This morning, we attended the African Inland Church (a denomination indigenous to Kenya originating in the mid-twentieth century). At the end of the service, I was introduced to the pastor (also Pastor Steve) as a pastor and immediately he invited me to preach next Sunday. I’m not opposed to doing so (their early service is in English), but it doesn’t feel right. I’m a mzungu – and what right do I have to preach to Kenyans? Especially when we learn more about the divide between whites and blacks. They appear to live in two different worlds with a great lack of understanding about each other.

Last night as our tuk-tuk driver took us home, we discussed his experience earlier in the day when he was stopped by the police. In his three years as a tuk-tuk driver, it was the first time he was stopped. He was told that he did not have a valid license and it was taken from him. The police demanded that he pay to get it back – an amount that he did not have because he had used all he had to take his young daughter to the hospital the night before. He told me that the police noticed that he was transporting mzungus and therefore he must have a lot of money. We described this to our host this morning and she responded with disgust at how the authorities act.

Why are mzungus not in churches? What if you were identified as wealthy simply by the color of your skin? What if you were immediately charged more for everything because of the color of your skin? What if your response to mercy as a part of the church was used in other ways and taken advantage of as a result of the assumption that you are just plain wealthy? How long would you remain within that church? And to be fair, the mzungus have immediate assumptions about the Kenyans that they cannot be trusted and are quick to take advantage. I’ve not experienced open hostility, but I cannot shake the fact that I am mzungu. I want to say to Kenyans that I’m not like other mzungus, and I want to say to mzungus that I’m not like other Christians.

You see, it’s complicated. The religious scene is complicated. The acts of terrorism by Islamic militants from Somalia have increased the tension between Christians and Muslims. I’m told that Muslim men no longer wear traditional clothing on Fridays (the Muslim day of prayer) and the women who continue to wear hijab risk harassment. And often what one finds in Christian worship (particularly in the tents or unaffiliated churches) where the pastor is self-identified as “prophet” is a prosperity gospel where a commitment to the way of Christ includes a promise of healing and riches – and yet the only one who appears to reap the reward is the “prophet”. It’s complicated, you see. On the surface, the message of Christianity is seen and heard everywhere, but it is far more complicated that it seems. Even our own United Methodist denomination has withdrawn financial support from east Africa because it cannot be determined where the money ends up.

This week I’ve been reading Eugene Peterson’s autobiography. Peterson is the author of The Message version of the Bible. He states that the church ought to be “the place where dignity is conferred”. What if the church was the place where you could count on each person being treated with dignity – mzungu and Kenyan? In my time as a pastor, I have longed for the church to be the place where love is unconditional – the place where there is no judgment, just love. We do not bring change into anyone’s life, but we can love – and love in such a way that each person is opened to the God who brings the kind of change that is necessary for the Kingdom of God to be found on earth as it is in heaven.

Maybe I need to preach next Sunday after all.