Appleseed Travel Journal

— The Needs of Africa and Memories of Tim Tug at My Heart

I find that diving into the heart of Africa has brought up two strong emotions that are moving through me like waves that actually connect with one another. Our last trip here ended with news that our son had passed away.  It makes sense that returning here would bring up some of those memories as well as the loss we continue to walk through. Then, as our feet touched the ground in Kitale, we were not only surrounded by familiar team members but also greeted by a couple from a neighboring town that we had never met before.  Sitting down to lunch with this husband and wife, they began to show us pictures of mentally ill adults that they were caring for.  As difficult as it is to find good treatment at home for the mentally ill, there is NO treatment available to the African with no finances and, what is worse, the family very often abandons them to the streets where most others shun them.  Often, they are left in gutters to fend for themselves. Now, if you haven’t made the connection yet, I was particularly stirred by this couple’s ministry and the needs they were meeting because Tim was so plagued by his own mental illness during the last couple years of his life.  The needs they were meeting of cast-off, mentally ill people stirred me deeply as my own heart was reminded of what Tim went through.  A coincidence or a God-thing?  Probably the latter. But, oh  the insatiable needs of Africa that so easily get under one’s skin and causes both Brooks and I to want to rip the clothes off our back and hand them to someone like these people in need!  Alas, this is not the answer.  But, we will carefully build relationship with a couple like this over time, learn more about their work, and pray carefully about what steps can be taken to empower them in their work  and not just set up a handout that never ends. Our new friend caring for an abandoned mentally ill man:

— Nairobi, Kenya: "Unsettled"

“So how is Nairobi?” I asked the taxi driver as we headed from the airport to our hostel weaving in and out of light traffic that seems to have only one rule: the biggest vehicle has the right of way.  “Unsettled,” he replied.  That word seemed to describe the way people feel having had two grenade attacks within a week from Somali terrorists retaliating against Kenya for sending troops to help put the rebels down. The driver said, “the Somalis are right here among us.  They are right in our city.  They are attacking ordinary people in bars and busses.” Now, to put this in perspective one must bear in mind that more people undoubtedly died in Nairobi traffic accidents than from these grenade blasts during the two different days that they happened.  But that misses the point.  There is the deep feeling of being violated and the nervousness that comes from not knowing where it could happen next. “Are there less visitors coming into the airport since these two attacks?” I asked the driver concerned that the struggling Kenya economy will take yet another hit because of tourists and safari-goers staying away.  “Oh yes,” he replied.  “Much fewer visitors are coming in right now.” Well, many are staying away, but we are here.  Interestingly, the targets have been specifically Kenyan as opposed to “western” targets.  We do not feel unsafe as we check into our familiar room at the small convent that rents nightly rooms in the “Upper Hills” area.  But we do empathize with our brothers and sisters here, knowing a little of what it means to have acts of terrorism hit our home land.  We also share the concern that those in the poorest areas—where famine has already made life more than difficult—will  be the ones who suffer most as financial woes trickle down. We are merely passing through Nairobi for now as we head for Kitale and Kisumu but are hoping to be able to connect with our friends here in Nairobi later in the month. Thanks, guys, for keeping us in your prayers for safety, travel connections, etc.

— Grenade Blasts in Kenya

Our plans take us through Nairobi, Kenya three times as well as spending nearly two weeks in other parts of Kenya.  We appreciate your prayers as, many of you know, there have been increased terrorist threats there as well as two grenade bombings in Nairobi.  These are isolated events, however visitors to Kenya are urged to exercise extreme caution. We have some flexibility in terms of when we go to other countries and how much time we spend where.  We want to stay in step with God’s leading.  Your prayers are key right now!

— Forgiven

Before we left to come to Poland, I traveled back and forth on Highway 166 from Nipomo to Bakersfield several times to see my daughter and her family.  Now, everyone knows that there are highway Patrol officers staked out all along this two lane highway and my son-in-law, daughter, AND husband have met several of them and been the recipients of their hand-outs.  All that to say, I’m fairly vigilant driving across, keeping an ever-watchful eye for the “enemy” hiding in their black and white cars along the way. Alas, my guard was down this last time.  Speeding through a straight-away with nothing in sight, focused on the mental to-do list I was making, I didn’t notice the curve up ahead.  As cars came barreling out of it, right in the middle of the stream was a hidden police car.  I immediately slowed down and had that sinking feeling, “Darn, I am so busted!”  I was doing something wrong and got caught doing it.  Looking out the rear view mirror to see if, or rather when, he was going to come get me, sure enough, he whipped out of line and came up from behind with his lights twirling and blinking frantically.  I pulled over and fumbled through purse, glove compartment, visor and thought to myself, “I’m guilty, just give me the ticket and let me get out of here.” The officer came up to the passenger window, asked for all the typical documents and asked me, “Do you know how fast you were going?” “Yes, 70 to 75.” “Do you know what the speed limit is?” “Yes, 55.” Looking through my papers, he wanted to know if I agreed that there was a pretty big difference between the two. “Yes, I was speeding.  There’s a big difference.” Leaning in with no more words, no accusations, he stoically said, “Well, continue on your way.  Drive carefully.  Drive safely. And, oh, have a really good day.” What, are you kidding me?  I couldn’t believe it.  I thought for sure I would get a ticket.  I certainly deserved it.  Why didn’t I get one?  I was all prepared for whatever, thinking, “just what we need one more thing to pay for,” and dreading confessing to Roger. As I slipped back onto the highway, driving well under 55, instantly the Holy Spirit spoke to me, “This is it; this is me; this is me and my love for you, the cross.  Yep, you are guilty; you are riddled with things you have/are doing that are wrong, that are against my ways.  I’ve posted how to do life and yet you think you have a better plan, a better way to get what you think you need and want.  You are rebellious and headstrong, driven to get where you want to go, driven to get there how you want to oftentimes not giving me or my ways a thought.” But here I am.  At the cross.   Caught in my self-indulging ways.  It’s true.  I am guilty.  I have done things in my past that I’m not proud of; I’m doing things right now that are not helpful to me or anyone else.  Am I guilty?  Yes.  Is there any way to worm my way out and sugarcoat it or talk my way out of it?  No.  Do I even want to?  No.  Do I drive 75 in a 55 zone?  Yes.  I hope not to suffer the consequences...just slide through, somehow getting a free pass.  But, here I am caught…bracing myself for the punishment.  I’m shocked.  Once again Jesus reminds me, “You are forgiven. I’m not giving you a ticket, just receive my love, my presence, my power in exchange for all you’ve done.  That’s what I want for you.  If you confess your sins (driving 75), then I’m faithful and just to forgive you. (I John 1:9) It’s who I am.”  Instantly, my heart was flooded once again with the awareness of so much grace, so much peace, so much there’s absolutely nothing I can do about what I’ve done, but receive His peace. That’s how I feel today.  After discovering that indeed it is shingles on Roger’s body and knowing the consequences of the dreaded disease, there’s no explanation for how well he is doing other than grace.  I know enough about shingles and have currently read even more to be aware that he could be in bed with fever and extreme pain where the blisters are.  Instead, God’s grace is with us.  After a couple of days of headache and flu-like symptoms, he has very little pain, most of the achiness is gone.  He has been energetic and present to all God wants to do while we are in Poland:  teaching, encouraging, supporting leaders and those coming to the trainings.  It really is all GRACE.  What else could be the explanation?  The cross holds it all.  If we can receive it and believe it.  Well, I believe it.  We are experiencing that kind of grace today. In Bydgoszcz enjoying the wintery weather:

— Brian Humbles: Guest Blog Contributor

I’m traveling with Roger and Brooks in Poland, and it’s time to report on the adventure. Thursday we both landed in Bydgoszcz (go ahead, give it a try: say “BID-GOSH,” sort of spitting out the last few letters and adding a bit of a guttural sound. Only took me three weeks of referring to “that unpronounceable city” before I final mustered the courage to speak it out.) The day was a classic traveler’s adventure for me, with two missed flights (out of three, the first one being late and causing the cascade); so we didn’t meet up until Friday morning. Roger and Brooks came in from London, where they had their own adventures watching oversized/overweight travelers (their carry-on luggage, that is), shedding pounds and inches at the gate with all their fellow sufferers looking on with sympathy and dread. (“Will mine also be too fat or too heavy?”) Who says travel isn’t glamorous and exciting? When I arrived after midnight, I was up and ready to meet our host, Sławek Jakowiec (forget the last name; for the first, say “SWAVIK”),  who gave us a brief tour of parts of Bydgoszcz, the 8th-largest Polish city, with over 350,000 people and a rich heritage. The Vistula River flows through the town, and is lined with century-old architecture and beautiful trees turning shades of yellow and gold in the chilly fall air. We lunched on “pancakes” (really more like crepes) stuffed with about anything you want—ours had chicken and minced pork—VERY tasty, then set up for our evening meeting. The first meeting was an opportunity to introduce to a mixed crowd an overview of the principles related to simple church. By mixed I mean some who were 20-year veterans of house church, and others who were eager to learn more than what they had heard, or had read in Roger’s book. (More on that later.) Roger was kind enough to include me in presenting; and working with a translator meant the time flew! The reception by the crowd was warm and friendly, although I still can’t say “hello” in Polish (Sounds like 7 syllables...) I had learned during the day that Sławek had translated Roger’s book into Polish, and the printed copies had just shown up before we arrived. I tell you I felt like someone special, knowing that the guy signing copies of his book was my friend. We’ve been kidding him about his book signing ever since! Saturday morning we met in a home, about 20 of us squeezed into a 10 x 15 foot room on the top floor of an apartment building with a spectacular view of the city. We ate of course, and reviewed a host of issues related to simple church gatherings. I was very encouraged: the more we shared together, the more I appreciated how sincerely these brothers and sisters desired to see others brought into relationship with Christ, and then discipled into maturity. Discipling was the focus of the discussion—a challenge as there is no direct translation of this concept into Polish! For lunch we went to the mall—an impressive place that puts anything in our area to shame. Chinese food in Poland wasn’t bad at all—although it was interesting ordering by pointing and hoping that what the picture looked like was what it really was. (“Tastes like chicken!”) We spent the afternoon in Sławek’s living room—again, a tight squeeze but a time of rich blessing and sharing. Again the time passed quickly, with rich interaction on topics carried over from the morning, and much, much more. I’m convinced it was equally encouraging for us and our hosts. So what’s struck me most deeply so far? I believe it’s been the rich sense of a common purpose with these guys. As we prayed together Friday afternoon I was gratified to consider the beauty represented by our lifting common prayer to the Father in unique languages, each of which was a fragrant aroma before Him, blended together in a glimpse of what I imagine it might be like when in the end “those from every tribe and tongue and nation and people” worship Him together. It truly was amazing. Second, I’ve been very encouraged in continuing what my wife and I are committed to doing at home, as there is much we’ve shared here that I see room for reenergizing and building on there. Can’t think of anything better than going back with a deeper sense of purpose in what God has put our hand to, having been deeply enriched in this special place. Sunday my time with Roger and Brooks comes to an end, while they continue on to warmer climes, and I’m sure much more to tell. I’m writing from the train, where we’re headed for Warsaw. It’s been a great three days! Roger's book signing: Slawek and daughter:

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