Though the Fields Yield No Food

We drove past the villages where we work and came to the end of the road. We parked here by a rickety footbridge to have our lunch between community meetings in the two villages. As it turned out, this is a busy place, with both bicycle and pedestrian traffic. Bicyclists hauling heavy sacks of maize approached, then dismounted and pushed their loads across, as the structure bounced and swayed.  We were soon to learn that the faith of many people in the villages has been shaken. They must learn to trust God on a whole new level.

Rickety Bridge

Without a traffic director, everyone moved smoothly, waiting their turns to cross from both directions. One woman with two small children and a 50 kg bag balanced on her head approached the bridge, sidestepped down the bank, then she stepped into the rain swollen creek with her children trailing along behind her. 

As we were finishing our meal, a woman approached the window of our vehicle and waited to be noticed to strike up a conversation. She said, "You know I attend your classes in that village. I want you to know all of my crops were washed away in the storms." How should I answer that?

All morning we had been meeting with community leaders and villagers. When we offered words of encouragement to pray and hope in God, the people in one village received them gladly and believed with us that God can make a way where there seems to be no way. In the other village, hearts were heavy and despairing. We prayed and asked them to pray. George read Habakkuk 3:17-19 and told them they can trust God when it seems all earthly hope is gone. Some were receiving George's words gladly, but in some hearts it seemed these seeds of faith were bouncing off a wall. 

This is a community meeting where George was teaching from Habakkuk 3:17-19.

Many friends led us to their fields to show us the devastation. Although generally, people who applied Farming God's Way fared better, in some fields, the flooding was just too much. In many fields, ground cover had washed completely away and laid in heaps along trails left by the flowing water. Many fields are still waterlogged and the maize stunted and yellowing.  

Some crops were completely destroyed, and some were stunted and badly damaged.  

These are one crop farmers, so no maize crop means no food for the family for the coming year. It's as simple and heartbreaking as that. We could see the despair in their eyes as over and over, we had heard this same story from people as we walked throughout the villages. 

The home of a friend that I often visited was completely gone, and all that was left was a pile of crumbled mud bricks. She, as most extremely poor people, had made her own mud bricks to build her small two room house, but she was too poor to fire them. I asked her to describe what happened. She said that the typhoon came in the middle of the night while she was asleep in one room and her children in another. She woke to the sound of cracking as the walls began to collapse. She ran to her children's room and managed to get them out before the walls could fall upon them. She, her family, and her brother's family are now living in a small building we had been using for the clinician's examination room on clinic days. 

We were standing on the site where her home stood. The rubble under our feet is what is left of her home.

Nearby was a home that had been badly damaged and one entire wall missing and cracks in the others. Nevertheless, families were living inside. There was a cooking fire in the middle of the floor. The multipurpose building we built a few months ago was occupied by several families. No furniture, no beds, of course, only clothes piled along the walls indicated people who had lost everything were sleeping there. 

Several families are living in this badly damaged house.

All of us have watched on the news as a disaster unfolded in some distant place in the world. Those events can seem rather abstract to many people, and some may conclude, "Thank God that is not me and my family."  The absolute devastation in these villages is not at all abstract or distant.  These are people we know and love. If we take no action, we know the logical consequence of poor subsistence farmers losing their crops, then losing hope. 

Love cannot be just words. The kingdom of God must come through us, and we must represent in every way the heart of the Father. We believe He will give us wisdom and resources to help them recover, with faith in God intact that will make them stronger. 

Let me tell you how you can help. We need much prayer support, that God will give us wisdom and the resources to carry out this assignment. We need many people to give generously for new seed, fired brick, and cement, and a year-long feeding program for the children. Ask God what you can do, and we know if everyone responds with their part, the need will be met.  You can make a tax deductible contribution securely online at www.surefoundationministry.com . Or, you can mail contributions to Sure Foundation Ministry, PO Box 30332, Winston-Salem, NC 27130. May God bless everyone whose heart God has stirred to give. 

Tropical Storm

The tree tops were shaking and towering blue gum trees swayed, and within seconds, strong winds from the west (an unusual direction for storms here). The corner of our roof lifted then flapped up and down. Winds ripped large branches from nearby trees and felled several large ones over the neighborhood. I called George to agree with me in prayer. We asked for safety for us, our lives, this house, and all our workers. We thought of the villagers and asked for their safety and that they would pray, and would find Him a very present help in time of need. We had the peace of God that all would be well. We prayed with prayer, praise, and proclamation for some time.

Eventually the winds calmed down and the rains subsided enough for George to pick up one of our workers who had gone into town to get a few groceries. He was taking our usual route when he rounded a bend and  came upon a large section of tree blocking the entire road. There is one other way, a much longer route, into town, so he decided to turn around and try it. Along that way, many trees had fallen across the road, but people were all along the road claiming the fallen trees for firewood and quickly carrying away bundles and sections; whatever they could carry away. It was a much longer and a slower route because of all the fallen limbs and  branches littering the roadway, but it was a blessing that the road was passable. 

After the storm, I checked for damage and found only one medium tree along the upper wall, some distance from our house had fallen and we are happy to say the wall was not damaged. We want to thank God for protecting us, our lives, our workers, our house, and we are trusting God that all our friends in the villages are safe as well. 

Learning Biblical Principles of Farming God's Way

We just received a very encouraging report from our team in Malawi.  Maria have been teaching Farming God's Way in two villages, Samuel teaching the practical and Maria teaching the spiritual.  The people are excited, and the classes are well attended. New members are joining each session, and some are coming from distant villages to hear about Farming God's Way for the first time.

Attendees reported that they are now understanding that God wants them to succeed in their farming, but more than that, He wants them to trust Him to be their help and blessing in every area of their lives. 

The Farming God's Way course Maria is teaching instills these Biblical values: Seek to honor and obey God in everything. Do your work at high standards, on time, and with no waste. 

This is a dramatic shift away from the mix of superstition and islam that is typically practiced in the rural villages. In the past villagers have planted talismans in their fields for "good luck " and trusted the advice of traditional healers. We are praying God will tremendously bless those who fully rely on doing things God's way. 

This is the rainy season, but the rains haven't started yet. Please join us in prayer that the rains this season will bless the crops of these precious new believers - not too little, not too much, and that they will begin soon.

Soccer Ball Outreach

We had a request from the older boys at the Sakata Primary School for soccer balls. On our way out, down the dirt path leading away from the school, there was a little boy holding what's best described as a former soccer ball, looking like a round bundle of rags, with some patches of black and white. Pastor Williex then told us it would be a great means of outreach at all the schools.

I have often thought that one of the reasons soccer, "football", as it's called most other places besides the US, is so popular in the poor countries, is that all you need to play is a ball, and an open field. I have at times seen it played with taped up rags.

African Pace

Africa moves at its own pace, and no one is alarmed when things don't get done immediately. It's not that people are not industrous, because they are. Industriousness is necessary to survival. Cities are full of bustle, movement, and trade, but there is no Lowes or Walmart or Whole Foods.

You may find a woman selling tomatoes and eggplant and down the road a mile or so you may find someone selling onions and garlic. Everything is in small shops and roadside stands. Pastor Williex's knowledge is necessary, but some of the things we are asking for, he has never heard of. For example, two days ago, we asked him to help us find eyehooks to hang our mosquito bednet from the ceiling. After looking a bit, he helped us find them.

The plus side of the pace of Africa is that people here are less uptight and tend to take life more in stride. Coming from an American culture, of course there are adjustments. We start the day with lists of things that "must" be done, and at the end of the day, 4 of 10 have been done, then it was a good day. Bit by bit, little by little

Loyal Guard Dogs on Duty

We were busy getting ready for our day when suddenly we heard intense barking, as a confrontation between our dogs, Sakara and Yowa, and some growling, four legged intruder was taking place outside. 

From time to time baboons pass through, but the sounds we were hearing were more like cat than baboon.  George and I ran through the kitchen, pausing briefly to grab a slingshot and a handful of marbles each as we followed the sound to the side yard. 

We had already missed most of the action, so when we arrived the creature had already left the ground. Thinking about it now, that's probably a really good thing. 

Although the swaying branches gave us clues about the animal's location, in the thick foliage we never got full view of its body. We only saw a glimpse of a thick, long, black furry tail through a clearing as the animal moved smoothly along a branch and into better cover near the top of a tree. For a short while, we all stood looking intently into the tree tops trying to get a better view, but he was gone. It was over. They may have been a little disappointed, but I am certainly glad the dogs didn't catch whatever it was. 

We think it may have been a civit cat, which we have caught glimpses of a couple of times at night as we passed along a road. George read that they are typically nocturnal, except when they are in mating season. Mating season, of course, is a time when many species engage in irrational behavior. That probably explains his passing through our yard with two full grown German shepherds!

We were proud of our dogs today. They were in their best guard-duty form, alerting us to danger and having fun while they were at it, so they each received a dog biscuit and our congratulations for a job well done. 

Remembering Oscar

Last Monday evening, we received a call from Samuel: the chief called to notify us that Mercy, one of the women in my Discovery Bible class, had just lost her 8 year old son, Oscar, and we were invited to attend his funeral the following day.  When I heard the news of little Oscar's death, grief welled up from somewhere deep inside me, and I couldn't hold back the tears as I remembered how his mother loved him.

My first personal conversation with Mercy was several months ago when she approached me after class to ask if we could help her get her son to the hospital. He had developed static pneumonia, was dehydrated, unable to eat, and was clearly dying.  We admitted him to a private hospital, and after a few days of excellent care, he had recovered enough to go home, and when I called his name, he looked up and smiled at me. Mercy was so thankful for our caring for her and her son.  

On the day he was dismissed, I asked if we could pray for her and her family. She welcomed that, then she also prayed for us.  I asked her if she had a personal relationship with Jesus Christ. She told me that she does and that she prays to Him.  

Here in Malawi, mothers carry their young close to them till they are ready to toddle off and explore the world, but while other children were running and playing, Oscar's body remained small and frail. As a young child, Oscar had contracted polio, so he had never reached many of the milestones most children reach. He had never walked or communicated with her as other children do,  yet there was a person inside that small, fragile body that his mother saw and loved. Once she told me, "Some people say, How can you be so strong? Oscar is a heavy burden, but I say, he is no burden because I love him." 

Anywhere in the world, this selfless quality of character is a marvel of beauty and stands out as rare, and this was especially true in the harsh realities of my friend's rural life. Many times as I watched Mercy, I admired the grace and confidence with which this woman served the portion God had dealt to her, and I have been inspired and blessed by her life and example. 

The morning of the funeral came. We had never attended a Malawian funeral, so we weren't familiar with what to expect, so we called a few friends to ask about funeral customs. We were able to gain some useful information.  We certainly wanted to honor the family, and we would do our best not to offend. I was told that it is important to wear a head covering, so I picked out a favorite scarf to wear, but as it turned out, wearing a head covering wasn't so important after all. 

As we approached the home, long willow branches were spread across the road maybe 75 meters on either side of the home. Any vehicles along the way slow their pace and bicyclists know to dismount their bicycles and to pass silently. 

A friend of the family came to the road to lead us down the trail and into the compound. It was laid out in something like a semicircle with the family's home directly across from the compound entrance, and a mat was laid out for us some distance across the yard from the tiny mud brick house.  Two women approached, and we told them we brought a large pot of rice and a pot of boiled eggs for the family. They thanked us and took the food to one of the homes on the other end of the compound. 

Some men were sitting in little clusters talking softly among themselves in the shade of trees a little distance from us, off to the left and to the right of the trail. For a little while, there was silence as we sat and waited. Then people began filing in along the trail, one by one, sometimes in twos, and sometimes in tens as choirs began to gather.  From time to time, some of our friends left the trail briefly to come over to shake our hands.

Little by little, in the shadows of the small houses in the compound, the choirs of three churches were gathering. I didn't count, but there was certainly more than 200 people attending. 

Then, breaking the silence, I heard the mourning as Mercy in a procession of half a dozen women was coming down the trail toward us. I stood holding back tears as she approached, but when she reached me she knelt, and I knelt. She wept on my shoulder and I wept on hers. All the other women kneeling in a circle around us were wailing.   

In a short while, the crying ended, and Mercy led us to the house where we could view the body.  George and I followed her into a dim and shadowy little room where her son was completely wrapped in a chitenge cloth, a traditional Malawian wrap, and laid out on a bamboo mat on the floor. Again, the tears flowed, and I tried to comfort her. I said, "Oscar is gone for now, but he is with Jesus, and one day when you are there with Jesus you will see him again and his body will be completely well."

Mercy attended us as George and I returned to the mat. Again, we expressed our condolences and tried to comfort her. We asked if there was anything we could do. She said she was concerned that there would not be enough food to feed all the people who came, so we told her we would like to help with that.  

The funeral director (the one who planned the program) came, sat by us, and introduced himself. We gave him 5,000 kwacha and asked him to send people to the market to purchase maize, cabbage, dried fish, salt, onions, tomatoes, and cooking oil -enough to feed all the people who came. We also paid to have the maize ground into flour.

Then, we learned that some men had already been paid to dig the grave, but there was no coffin and that the family was expected to go into debt to purchase one. So, we told Mercy it would be our honor to pay for it to be built. Again, the funeral director took the money we gave him and he sent some men to the market to purchase the coffin. Then to Mercy, we gave 5,000 kwacha for her family's needs, which she tied into the folds of her wrap. 

Mercy retreated to the cluster of houses at the far end of the compound where we could see her lying on the porch.  Opposite those homes, at another cluster of homes, all the choirs were gathered, all seated on the ground. Then, a choir began to softly sing a hymn with such beautiful harmonies. When that one was finished, another choir began singing. In this way, all around the compound  the choirs sang in turn for maybe an hour as Mercy rested, reclined on the porch.

From time to time, a choir was summoned to come and eat. Choir members quietly filed out as the music continued, and when they returned, others went out to be fed. We were also summoned to come and eat. We sat on the floor with a bowl of nsima, a bowl of greens, and a bowl of stewed chicken between us. George and I shared a plate and ate with our hands. It was well prepared and very good. 

As choirs continued to sing, we were notified that everyone should stand up because the coffin had arrived. We looked down the trail and saw the coffin being wheeled in on the back of a bicycle. Again, there was weeping.

After some time, everyone was summoned to gather in the main yard shared among all the houses.  George was asked if he would like to say a few words. He spoke briefly about Oscar's short life and how, although he was limited in many ways, he taught us many things. From his short life, we can learn patience and trust. 

Then a preacher stepped forward.  In his sermon, he told the people that it is important to live right, to live an obedient life. Otherwise, he warned, some who are expecting to enter heaven will be turned away and will be sent to hell. Amen? Amen! 

Then, it was time for the casket to be carried in a procession to the family grave plot. The casket was carried ahead of the mourners, then other groups filed in behind. As we were preparing to step into the procession, two women who had not attended the funeral came near us to ask for us to come with them because there was a medical emergency in another part of the community. A gentleman in George's weekly Bible study had fallen ill.

While we were getting into our vehicle, the women both ran ahead of us to point the way into another part of the village. When we arrived, one of them was standing in the road, pointing down a trail where there were a few houses. We turned in there, and out of one of the houses came two women carrying an elderly man. He was unable to stand, babbling incoherently, and drooling. He had no control of his body. 

My first thought was that he had had a stroke. He and two caregivers were loaded into the vehicle, and we took him to the hospital. We learned that he had fallen ill during the night. It appeared that his prognosis was not good, but the following afternoon, we received a call that he had been dismissed and was ready to go home. 

When we arrived at the hospital, there he was sitting with his caregivers along the wall, and when he saw us, he jumped up and walked to the car. We were absolutely amazed!  As it turned out, he had not had a stroke but had contracted meningitis. I believe if he had not received proper medical help when he did, he probably would have died.  The people in the village could not have gotten this man to the hospital in time. Thank God we were there. 

George and I serve in many different functions as we work in the villages, but the main job we have is to make Jesus known. It is an honor to serve their needs as a means of doing that.  Loving them is a very precious thing. 

Malawian Prophets and a Warning to Us All

Malawi has a proliferation of prophets, some of whom are wealthy, highly regarded as being true, and have an international following. Some of the wealthy and powerful ones are imports from Zambia, Kenya, and, especially, Nigeria.  Most people here respect spiritual leaders, so they take the messages of these prophets very seriously. Also, because Malawi is very poor, the fourth poorest nation on earth, many people here are drawn to these leaders by the allure of power and prosperity. 

In May of this year, in the weeks and months leading up to the election,  newspapers articles documented the fact that several politicians sought out private council with these prophets, hoping for a blessing on their campaign, or even an endorsement. 

Huge mega-churches based in Nigeria are broadcasting their programs  into Malawi and have a network of satellite churches here.  From time to time we have been in a restaurant, a clinic or a hospital lobby where these programs are being viewed.

How does one describe them? They are more like a Jerry Springer type, reveal-all reality show, but in a church setting. For example, sometimes, there are lengthy conversations between the prophet and demons. 

On one occasion, we saw part of a program in which a large family was called out of the audience in front of a massive crowd somewhere in Nigeria. Then, with everyone watching, the prophet pointed his finger at one of them and said, "You! You are having an affair with this one." On another occasion, we heard him accuse one person of plotting the murder of another one in the audience. These programs can get quite bizarre. 

I heard about one of these prophets who has created and now markets a special formula for soap, which the prophet say washes away desire for persistent sin and drives away demons. 

Once, a group of prophets showed up without warning at a local church. They approached  the officiating leaders and asked for an opportunity to speak, so the pastor invited them to the pulpit. Afterward,  the men invited the congregants to come forward to receive a miracle. But, this was not an ordinary prayer service. The prophecies would be offered for a fee of 5,000 kwacha each.  

At that point some people began to mumble their objection, "But, prayer should be free, " they said. "No," the prophets answered. "Just look around you. Nothing in this world is free. Even salvation isn't free. And our fuel to come here certainly wasn't free! Keep in mind, the bigger your gift, the bigger the miracle you can expect!"  Convinced, many people came forward for prayer. After the last ones were prayed for, the men made for the door, smiling, with their pockets bulging with kwacha. 

Recently, a woman here in Zomba told me about a young prophet of the  homegrown, wanna-be variety who came into her apartment complex, going door to door, announcing that he was offering prayers and prophecy to anyone who was willing to let him in. Many people in the complex opened their doors and welcomed him into their homes. This woman determined to receive the prophecy, then wait and see if it would come to pass. Perhaps he would say something that would give her insight into her future. 

So, the man prophesied over all the other members of her household, but when it was her turn, he told the woman he would prophecy over her at another time. Then, he made an appointment for her to come later to his house to receive what he said God told him about her.  

So, she went at the scheduled time, singing a Gospel song along the way.  He welcomed her in, and after exchanging greetings, he appeared to be ready to prophecy. He looked at her for a long moment then said, "Your phone, is it bluetooth?" She answered, "Yes it is." Then, he said, "God told me you are to give me all the songs on your phone."

Jeremiah 14:14 "The Lord said to me, The prophets are prophesying lies in my name.  I did not send them nor did I command them nor speak to them. They are prophesying to you a lying vision, worthless divination, and the deceit of their own hearts." 

Matthew 24 "Tell us, when will these things be, and what will be the sign of your coming and the end of the age?"  And Jesus answered them, "See that no one leads you astray." 

A warning to us all.

Missing Granny Annie

Over the past several months we had noticed that Granny Annie had been steadily losing weight, and on our last visit her frail body seemed more fragile than usual. 

When she heard us driving into her neighborhood, she came out to greet me as usual, smiling up at me, she said, "Thank you, thank you, thank you."   I took her hand as we walked together to Discovery Bible class. 

Along the way, she said what I hadn't allowed myself to think. "I know that I will soon be gone," she said, " and I do not have long in this world."  I didn't want to believe it and my heart sank, but as soon as she spoke it, I knew that it was true. I thought of her faithfulness to come to every Discovery Bible class since we began in March.  

I remembered the day she received her own Bible and how happy she was. Some of the women thought it humorous because Granny Annie couldn't read. I thought of the  humor and wit she brought to the class. 

Then, I thought of her destination and wanted to assure her and myself that she was at peace with God.   "Do you love Jesus?" I said, "Everyone who loves Jesus and puts their trust in Him will meet again one day on the other side. If you go before me, I know I will see you again. I will be there with Jesus, and so will you. We will be there together in heaven with Him." Granny Annie smiled and took comfort in that thought.

I knew several days would pass before we would visit her village and I would see her again, but I have often thought of her. Then, as we were working in a village medical clinic this week, an elder from her village bicycled to find us and to let us know that Granny Annie had died and that she had been buried on Tuesday. 

My heart aches and it saddens me to think that I will never in this world see her again. From time to time tears suddenly flow as I cherish the memories and grieve my loss. I am missing her so, but I know I will see Granny Annie again. On that day, she will no longer have a weak and frail body. She will no longer suffer from emphysema. She will no longer be poor or suffer need. The next time I see her, she will be with Jesus and all will be well.   

Earbuds

As we were leaving the medical clinic a couple of days ago, ahead of us we spotted a pair of earbuds lying in what would be our tire tracks in the unpaved lot. People were coming and going, so we had no idea who they belonged to.  

A few of the clinic staff, apparently on break, were seated on the lawn maybe  50 meters from our truck. They all turned to watch as Angellah got out of the truck to examine their condition, then pick them up. We reasoned that everyone at the clinic knows us and  that if the earbuds belonged to a staff member, someone there would let us know.  Because the cord had already been run over, we weren't even sure if they still worked. As we were pulling out of the lot, Angellah tested them with her phone and said they still worked.

We were maybe half way to the village when George received a call from someone we had never met. "Hello, George. This is Roy. I understand you have my earbuds." George told him that we found them in the clinic parking lot and that we would be happy to take them to the clinic where he could pick them up in a couple of hours. 

After our village run, we left them with the receptionist at the clinic and then thought nothing more about the matter. We had done our part. We kept them from being smashed in the parking lot and and returned them to the rightful owner. 

Then, this morning Roy again called George, "Hello George. You gave me the wrong earbuds! These are not mine. Where are my earbuds? I want MINE. What did you do with my earbuds?" George said, "Well, ok. All I can tell you is these are the ones I found in the parking lot.