Appleseed Travel Journal

— The Power of God in a Broken Family

Steven knocked on the metal door of his close neighbor wanting us to greet him.  Always ready for a new experience and the opportunity to meet yet one more of the extremely warm and hospitable Congolese, we were excited to meet who lived inside.  And so it was again, gradually opening the broken-paned front door, we were greeted with a broad grin of a man we had met twice before.  It was Lagris, a church planter who had traveled to Kenya some time ago to receive trainings.  As he welcomed us with the usual three kisses, one on each cheek and then a second for the right cheek again, plus a handshake, there were squeals of children and a flurry of activity.  Roger and I slipped into the small and very inviting sitting room.  It was stuffed with chairs, tables, books, papers and a huge curtain drawn alongside the room, where I imagined the other side was filled with mattresses for those who slept there.  Lagris quickly made introductions, his wife Scola and all of his children…who were many.  In addition to his own, we met four little boys, all anxious to touch Roger’s white skin and sitting close to him staring in wonder at this mzungu who was sitting in their home.  These four were street children, along with a teenage girl who Lagris and his wife had gathered up and brought into their own home, not knowing how they would feed them or pay school fees or even if they had space enough to keep them.  Sitting there, it was obvious the children were, happy, content, well nourished enfolded into a mother and father’s love and safe-keeping.  Chattering about times past, a flurry of French was exchanged and quickly Scola and several children scurried out the door, down the street to buy bottles of Fanta for all to celebrate our reunion. Much had happened in Lagris’ life which he was only too happy and very excited to tell us.  His honesty and confidence in telling his story bespoke the many times he must have shared it before.  There was no shame, no disgrace, only joy in reporting what only God could have done in his life, his wife’s life and their marriage.  It seems their marriage was rough…difficult, filled with arguments and fighting.  In DRC, it is very common for this to involve physical abuse as well as verbal.  After one such event where Lagris again beat his wife, she had had enough.  Even through hours of counsel with Steven, the marriage was over.  One day Lagris came home to find Scola had left and taken their children to the city of Bukavu four hours away.  She was angry, hurt, finished. But, God was not.  He began to speak to the hearts of both husband and wife.  Lagris had heard from Roger a teaching about husbands loving their wives as Christ loves the church.  He heard that husbands are to love them even as they love themselves.  This would mean that beating your wife, even though accepted culturally, is not acceptable as a Believer.  This kind of action is clear disobedience to God and his Word.  This is not loving your wife.  For Lagris this was a novel thought and it continued to resound in his heart and his mind.  Could this be?  Was this truth? Meanwhile, Scola was praying, “God, do something in my marriage.  I love my husband.  I want to be with him, but not as he is.  I see the ways I have not been a good wife.  I am angry, mean, disrespectful and never say a kind word to that man.  Help me.  Help our marriage.  Please do something so I will know you are working.  Please put us back together in a good way.”  But, in her heart she could not believe that even God could do such a thing.  Was this even possible? As God continued to work in Lagris, one day he took the journey Bukavu.  He went to his wife weeping, asking for forgiveness.  He explained to Scola that he didn’t know; he didn’t understand before.  Now he could see how wrong he had been.  He wanted her to come home and see that he was a changed man. For Scola, she apologized, too, for her part, for how she was not the good wife he deserved, how the years had worn away the love she once had for him and how she treated him without honor or respect.  God began to heal.  As each one opened herself/himself to what God wanted, He began to pour his power into each life and into this marriage. It’s now been over a year and this couple very matter of factly, with openness and great candor tell their story, with the specific actions that led each of them to the point of separation.  They unashamedly take responsibility for their part, what they did.  They talk about seeking God, asking Him what He wanted to do in this very, very bad marriage.  Today they talk about choices:  doing life on God’s terms or their own.  Will I protect myself or will I let God protect me?  Will I trust God or rely only on myself?  Will I give up traditional ways of how to deal with a “disobedient” wife or will I embrace God’s way of how to treat a wife? Can I let go of my anger and look at what God wants to do in me even though these circumstances are so hard? Today, Lagris and Scola , interact easily and comfortably, talking about the past, sharing their life as it is today.  No fireworks, no Hollywood fantasies, just a depth of love and true peace that passes all understanding.  What could have destroyed their own lives, the lives of their children did not happen, because two people sought God, humbled themselves, and looking into God’s face and said, “I choose You.”  The result?  No one can believe it.  Their lives, their marriage speak loudly to many—men and women alike.  There is not one who knows them who will deny the power of God in this family.  It seems it’s in our darkest hour we choose.  And, often in the choosing, God’s power is either snuffed out or released.  In this case, Laris and Scola chose.  It’s been in that choice we are now seeing that God’s love and grace and power is being released into the lives of five orphans who were once scavengers trying to survive.  It was in that choice that their testimony is influencing many marriages and people.  All because one woman, ravaged by severe physical abuse, and one man and living as only they had seen, asked God, “What do you want me to do?”

— New Team in Rwanda is Amazing

Backdrop to Rwanda: Genocide.  This little country has been through more than most of us could bare to read about, much less endure and come out anywhere near being able to press on, but the result is that the government and the people are determined to live in forgiveness and reconciliation and building a country of peace and solidarity.  Over 1 million people were BRUTALLY massacred and murdered in the genocide that happened here and over 2 million people were displaced, having to run for their lives to neighboring countries as refugees.  For some, their homes were burnt to the ground and they ran for help to find safety elsewhere.  That means that at least 2/3 of the population suffered at the hands of the rebels, and every single Rwandan lost family members to this enormous atrocity on humankind.   In less than 17 years, though, Kigali (Rwanda's capital) is known as one of the safest and cleanest cities in Africa.  Even the poorer sections of the city are clean.  Every Saturday morning the shops and businesses are closed just for cleaning!  There is a law in place that you cannot ask another person what tribe they are from.  Unfortunately, there is a huge gap between the poor and the rich, with no middle class, so there are gigantic houses lining the hillsides, which there are many, along with poor neighborhoods right beside them.  The country itself is amazingly beautiful.  We are at about 4,000 feet elevation and the entire city is just one hill after another, even far into the distance.  It’s green, full of trees and beautiful landscaping here and there.  It’s very hard to believe the streets we walk through, the people we meet have suffered so much and yet they are rebuilding their lives, living testimonies to the power of faith and what forgiveness really means. (Note from Roger: I posted this for Brooks and considered adding a couple of pictures from the genocide.  But it was such a brutal and large scale massacre (on the level of Nazi Germany) that the pictures are just too traumatic to even print.  It is one of our generation's greatest yet little-known catastrophes.  Yet, as Brooks said, God is amazingly at work today through these courageous people.) Amazing New Rwandan Team.  Justin has planted FORTY churches since he came to one of our trainings last year!!!!!!  Can you even imagine???????  Justin works full time in a government job, has five kids, goes to school to learn English five days a week, is a church planter, and meets with his leaders every Sunday afternoon.  It’s so fun to see the people God connects us with!  It’s because of your prayers!!!!!  It’s because of you God has somehow drawn us into relationships with the exact people he wants to connect us with. On Saturday we met with 40 people, many whom are pastors, that Justin crammed into one small room.  Before the genocide Rwanda was universally a Catholic country, but because some of the priests even participated in the genocide itself, many, many people are off Christianity altogether.  The government today is closing the doors of many churches regulating them by saying the buildings are not adequate, the noise is too loud and other “reasons.”  Many of the smaller churches are not able financially to meet these requirements, so they are looking for ways to preach and spread the true gospel in a different way.  Some of these pastors came interested and excited to learn about simple church and church planting movements.  Forty of us packed into one room and it was AWESOME to see their intense interest! Pictured below gives you some idea of how young we begin training church planters!!!

— Church Plants Start From a Visit to a Pub

Meet Emmanuel.  He is a young boy (20), raised in a remote village in mountainous western Kenya.  Dawson met him one night when he intentionally went into a pub in Kitale and paid the entire bill for all who were drinking there.  Of course, those customers couldn’t believe it…a pastor coming into a bar and then paying for their drinks, and even some of them like Emmanuel high on drugs as well.  Details escape me, but the end result was that this young man felt the love of God that Dawson had for him.  It was enough love that he would go out of his way, into a bar and sit and just be with, not preach to, a bunch of derelicts, deserters and rejects of society. Dawson has been discipling Emmanuel in the ways of Jesus for six months now and his life has completely changed.  He is no longer living on the streets, no longer spending his days with the sole goal of begging or stealing enough money to support his alcohol and drug addictions.  Instead, he is clean, confident, assured that he is meant for more than this.  He is a shining example of one more God has rescued from the garbage heap and set among princes.  Today Emmanuel wants to go back to his village, to his mother’s home and start a church.  Dawson will walk alongside him to support and we just happen to be privileged enough to be invited to join in. So, mid afternoon we all crammed into a car, John, driving, Dawson, Roger and myself, along with our African grandchildren, Dawson’s kids’, Jason and Lisa.  After leaving the two-lane, maize lined highway, we abruptly turned onto a red clay dirt road and drive, and drive and drive.  The road is bumpy and winds through acres and acres of growing maize and beans.  Suddenly we stopped and yes, one more person is crammed into our tiny four door metal-exposed vehicle.  It’s Emmanuel, a tall, lanky boy quite embarrassed to be with wzungus and very hesitant to use his English.  Roger was amused as Lisa, Jason and I tell stories to pass the time and Kiswahili is loudly being exchanged among the rest as we continued our journey.  The road became narrower and narrower as we went along, with offshoots of clay passageways through the planted fields to indicate that there are many homes and villages hiding in the distance that unfortunately, we would not have time to see that day. All of a sudden we stopped.  We began piling out of the car like circus clowns to go where?  I could not imagine.  I didn’t see anything or anywhere to go.  Looking up the short, steep bank, I saw there was a narrow pathway leading to one, then two then many more clay mud huts.  Approaching the first one, I passed by a bewildered calf, trying to be careful to avoid piles of fresh dung here and there indicating mama is close by.  Chickens are roaming freely, along with scarcely clothed small children easily two and three years and up.  Every inch of ground is planted in something making it easy to follow the path to the hut we were being welcomed into. “Karibuni sana!”  You are welcome so much.  It was Emmanuel’s mom, proud and tall asking us to come into her home where surely most of the day has been spent in preparation for our arrival.  The dark, windowless, dirt packed floored 12 X 12 house is home to Emmanuel’s mom, dad, and four siblings.  Two large squares of fabric hung from a stretched rope dividing the room in half, with one half being a combination living room/kitchen/bedroom and the other bedroom where I saw mattresses piled on the floor and the grimy “linens” exposed.  Borrowed furniture has been neatly arranged tightly against the clay walls.  The room is dimly lit by the diminishing sunlight streaming through the doorway opening.  There are no windows.  Lisa squirms in my lap and Jason rests comfortably on Dawson’s knees.  Roger and I are trying not to flinch at the hundreds of flies landing on us revealing that livestock must freely roam in this dwelling on less important occasions.  Situated at last, our circle was complete.  Mama Emmanuel, Emmanuel, and two neighbors, an elderly gentleman and a beautiful young mama of five. Dawson encouraged each of us to share freely with each other, as he easily translates from English to Kiswahili and Kiswahili to English.  Emmanuel began by admitting to his mom and his neighbors how he has ravaged the community with his wild ways, stealing and drinking, drugging and creating havoc for himself and his family.  He testifies to what has happened in his life.  He has found love, true love in the love of Christ.  His life has been transformed.  He wants to come to this home, share Scriptures together, pray for each other, pray for their community.  He knows not only the hardships, but the demonic witchcraft activity that is taking place here causing trauma to so many.  He knows there is division and strife in this village.  He knows that many will never go to a church for answers.  He himself would not.  Instead Jesus sought him out, where he was, not shaming him, but loving him, drawing him into a tender relationship with Him. One by one we share, not as strangers, but as family, so completely different in every possible way, but united in Spirit and in Truth.  Mama had prayed for her son, so it is with so much joy she sees him well, happy, focused on his future.  They are excited to know that living the Christian life is more than attending a church service at a big church that they are rarely able to get to.  They are excited to learn that each of them has a calling to reach their neighbors and teach neighbors to reach more neighbors until the entire village has the opportunity to know the love of God.  It is here, in mud huts like this, that lives are changed and transformed.  It is here that vision for God’s Kingdom come is birthed. Dawson gives Mama a Bible and I pull out my newly acquired travel-size New Testament, excited that I can leave something of worth.  By the time we leave, dozens of neighbors and children have come by to greet us and to learn that something new is happening in their village! As a side note: Over 7 churches have been planted in the last few months because of that one visit to a pub on a Sunday morning!

— Celebrate!!!!

Even though I know as a mzungu I will never fit into Kenyan culture completely, I am sad this morning as we get ready to leave Kitale and head back to Nairobi.  Roger and I often share our hearts with each other using SASHES (sad, angry, scared, happy, excited, and/or shame/guilt) to describe how we are feeling in the moment.  Roger easily completes his share within five or ten minutes.  For me, I have many words…and emotions to share…so often my time can extend far beyond this poor man’s endurance.  Although, I must say that he listens intently, eyes focused, even though the testing of his patience must be challenging at times! Today was like many others.  Roger having already processed what he is feeling is ready to tell me exactly how he feels and where he is emotionally and physically.  And then, it was my turn.  Tears stream down my face, as I reflect on our week.  When we are in California it seems the challenges of spiritual and physical poverty in Africa are so big with need upon need looming forever before us.  We feel like we are struggling so hard to push and try to do something to bring light where there is darkness and hope where there is despair.  We work so hard, yet often wonder: Is anything we are doing making a difference?  Is there even a pinhole of light shining through anywhere? But today is different.  I see, no, we will not change the world, Africa, Kenya or DR Congo.  We will not rescue every child, dirty, abandoned, rejected and forgotten.  But, today, as I talk about our week, it’s a day for celebration.  You, who join us as part of Appleseed Ministry Group, are making a difference.  You are helping us pierce the darkness, one pinhole at a time, slowly by slowly impacting our world.  It’s happening, bit by bit, one step at a time.  No big splashes, no loud music…just softly, gently, but powerfully, loving God and loving others and watching to see how God can use a handful of people to change lives. Reflect with me… The Women’s Center, Dorcas Hands.   Women continue to be trained.  Four are doing well out in their villages...and 12 students with a trainer are studying intently now with hopes of a better future. A young, energetic church planter in Kakamega whom we have been working with and training for the past two years is planting MANY churches in that region as well as helping people through small projects.  He has a farming project with a group of his churches planting tomatoes, maize and beans.  He also has one woman who is already training a couple of girls in tailoring.  You are helping us support these projects so desperately needed to provide income for people just to feed themselves and their families. There is a farming project also in the works under another church planter here in Kitale where a group from a house church network in the slums is coming together.  They have rented land and are planting tomatoes...there are women and men involved in this project, working hard together and will share in the profit of their labors. This is a volatile project, as all of them are, dependent so much on the rains, which are not consistent with the typical rainy and dry seasons of the past.   You are helping us sow into this; pray with us for success. Liberty School in Bikeke Village.  Where once students met in a rented, tin-roofed structure with barely enough supplies, now 100 students are able to go to school on land we have purchased, with structures divided into classrooms from baby school through grade 5.  There is a structure for cooking and administration.  There are books, paper, pencils.  There is food.  Students whose parents can pay are beginning to place their children in this school because of the high scores the present students are receiving.  This shift will help in meeting the overwhelming needs of the orphans and other destitute children we are feeding and helping.  The children are happy, flourishing.  They once stayed home or on the streets doing nothing, sickly and hungry.  Now they feel important, loved, and cared about.  There are SO many needs yet to be met here, but you are helping us make SUCH a difference with these children! Church Planters.  Whether those here in Kitale or the ones coming from Uganda or other nations, many come to learn, be encouraged, supported and infused.  These are passionate, excited young men and women who are out to change their nations.  As a testimony to the work in this region of Kenya and solely to glorify God, I want to share what one man said.  He told us how much he appreciates how Appleseed operates.  He expressed his gratitude saying he appreciates so much that Roger comes underneath and lifts him and the rest of his church planters and trainers up, coming alongside, giving strength, encouragement and blessing...a true father, where others have come and speak down about things impossible and demeaning and demoralizing to them.  Men and women are respected for who they are, within their cultures.  They leave hopeful, empowered and encouraged. Please celebrate with me.   All of us!  People are being empowered to live prosperous lives economically as well as spiritually.  I’ve shared what’s happening only in Western Kenya.  There is much to celebrate in other areas as well.  But for today, thank you for giving thanks with us for what God has done and for his plans and purposes for the future of this and many other nations!

— Cookin' For the Guys

It’s been such a fun few days in Kitale town.  There’s nothing like coming home.  Things that used to catch my attention, now are common.  For example, dress, or foods, or sleeping accommodations no longer surprise or confuse me.  Instead, I can easily focus on things that matter, like people.  When we arrived, I quickly climbed the uneven steps up to the second story where the hotel desk clerk sits at her desk.  Thrilled to see that my friend who told me once how smart I looked in my Congolese blue shirt was on duty, I greeted her excitedly, “Habari, yako!”  Hesitantly, I told her that I knew she saw many wzungus (white people) come through this hotel, so she probably didn’t recognize me from our former visits.  She didn’t hesitate for a moment.  Instead, she confidently said, “But, Madame, I know you very well, and you are looking smart even today.  Well, maybe not so smart, but even smart still.”  Then, another worker here greeted me to say that she will never forget me even if I grow very, very old indeed!  I think these are compliments.  At least I’m hopeful!  Of course, the elderly watch repairman looks up from his small station outside the hotel and grins with delight saying, “Madame, you have come back.  Remember when I was talking with you before?”  Of course, I do and I will never forget him, even if he grows very, very old, too! As for my days, I’ve been to Dorcas Hands, visiting with the women who are learning tailoring, gone out to Bikeke Village to visit the school, spent time with men and women who I’ve come to know and love as church planting trainers in this region, and met a whole new group of church planters from Uganda.  It’s been a very busy week.  But, the highlight of my time here has been the continuation of my training in the Kenyan kitchen.  As many of you know, cooking is not my forte or even how I would typically enjoy spending my time.  However, in Africa cooking is not optional.  Every meal is a process…a long one.  I’ve learned that most meals start with a few small tomatoes and some smaller still red onions.  Our trainings here are held at the home of Elizabeth and Dawson.  Undaunted by numbers, Elizabeth will feed whoever happens to be in her house at the time.  This week we have been feeding around 30.  I’m always assured not to worry that the cooking will go quickly, which brings up the issue of time.  I know the morning, if not the morning and into the afternoon will be spent inside/outside with a small .5 pound of meats, some small vegetables, rice from the large bag and, of course, mixing ugali (a corn meal mush). Inside Liz, Margaret and I giggle and laugh talking easily about children, finances, marriage, husbands.  We’ve met before many times and the mornings fly by as ours is a relationship of trust and honesty, a richness and closeness we are not able to share with others we are working with and ministering to.  I’m grateful and very content that these young women feel this way.  Their lives are challenging and difficult as they work side by side with their husbands to help the poor in this community.  As for the cooking, they are very comfortable and welcome me to work alongside, no longer a visitor, but a friend.  They’ve learned that I need instruction, so they give it without hesitation any longer.  So, I wash and slice and cut and am amazed at how little is needed to prepare a huge meal with so little…equipment or foods. Outside a large tin cooking pot has been prepared with water and placed on the rock fire pit to boil.  I know from the past that the ugali cooked there must be done by someone far more experienced than myself.  With baby in tow, the house girl Mama Samantha pours the maize meal into the water and stirs it easily and quickly as it becomes a thicker and thicker paste. It’s the last thing to be done before serving the crowd. By now I know exactly where the plastic bowls for serving are and gather them along with tin spoons.  One by one each one is filled with one or two tiny pieces of beef, a spoonful of cabbage, and a portion of white rice.  The ugali is cut into large wedges which everyone will pick up from the green plastic tray.  The soup, a mixture of fried down tomatoes, onions and occasionally a green pepper are mixed mixed with a seasoning mixture of Ryko and a pot full of water.  Then it’s placed in a small tureen for guests to pour over their meal. And, so lunch is served one more day.  I’m told not to worry about dinner.  They will have beans and white rice.  This meal will go quite quickly…only taking about an hour or two!  It’s been a great day, simple, not hurried, not stressed, sharing friendships, sharing a meal, all done in stride.  Enjoying each moment, thankful for a day to be together, enough food for all, peace and visions shared, contentment felt.  Home.

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