Day 29: Brothers and Friends

This was our last weekend in Weru and it started off with a trip to a disabled children's home. Pastor Mwiti told me and Dylan that families with disabled children often hide them so that they won't be shamed by their conditions. At the home, Dylan and I met 9 young boys who were in the care of two women. Most of the boys couldn't speak English (some could barely communicate at all) while others were confined to old rickety wheelchairs. One thing I notice and really admired about these boys was the way they watched out for each other. The older and less handicapped ones would serve those who needed help. For example, some of the younger ones in wheelchairs can't use the restroom by themselves and so one of the other boys would push him outside. I could't help but be impressed by the two women who served the boys. It's a thankless and tiresome job to be sure but I'm certain that God will reward these women for their efforts one day in heaven. We played games with the boys, threw around a ball (which was a heck of a lot of plastic bags bunched up and wrapped by a few rubber bands), and toured their school which was up a hill. It was both heartbreaking and heartwarming to watch as the boys pushed others up in their wheelchairs. Truly, no one got left behind.

Their brotherhood is more sincere and sacrificial than 99% of friendships I've observed. They don't pretend to laugh at each other's jokes, sit around talking about girls, or suck up to each other. They go through all their trials together. They suffer together. It's sad that it takes poverty and disability to see the best of human nature. I hope that these boys will be each other's brothers and keepers so long as they live. They're all each other has.

Dylan, Me, and the boys

Later that day, we had visitors. Our GP teammates from Mathare and Huruma came to visit us. It was a pleasant surprise and cool mini-reunion as Nathan, Rich, Jackie, Paula, Katie, and Melissa drove up to our family's house in their matatu. We shared stories about what we had gone through, Katie's crazy surgery (I still thank God and marvel at the fact Katie was in Nairobi for her assignment), etc. Dylan and I gave our friends a tour of the area and I'm sure the kids in the area had never seen so many foreigners before.

That night, after we ate a super feast of a dinner, we figured out who would be serving in the Sunday service the next day. It was exciting to ministry together and I'll never forget just being there in our family's house, sitting with our friends, talking about how God was working in and through us. Good times. Blessed times.

From left to right: Rich, Katie, Jackie, Melissa, Nathan, Paula, and Dylan. I'll never forget being all together in Weru for those few days.

Day 28: Brokenness

Today was a stark reminder that this world is filled with a lot of suffering and darkness. Amidst all the luxury, routine, and "being comfortable" I experience in America, it's too easy to overlook all the people all over the world suffering so much pain and heartbreak. Today started with smiles and delight when Pastor, Dylan, and I went to Hill Top to eat roasted goat meat (which taste pretty darn good) and drink Stoneys. In less than an hour, however, we arrived at Chuka Hospital.

Now to be honest, I'm rarely even in American hospitals and so you can imagine what was going through my mind as I walked through a legitimate third-world hospital. We started off by going through the maternity ward. It was pretty cool seeing all the newborns, but at the same time, I couldn't help but think, "Man, how many of these kids are going to make it to my age? Even if they do, how many of them will be stuck in poverty for the rest of their lives?" Pastor, Dylan, and I soon arrived at another ward that housed sick infants and HIV-infected women. My heart broke seeing infants with tubes in their nostrils, children who couldn't walk, women (old and young) suffering through HIV, and all sorts of people going through circumstances I will never have to go through. We saw people whose whole bodies were in pain, whose legs were either nonfunctional or amputated, whose voices barely could be heard.

This is the reality of the third-world which is pretty much the majority of the world. We are the lucky few who get college educations, cars, and squeaky clean hospitals while everyone else gets cheap beds, flies, and mosquito nets.

I hate to belabor the point but...what the heck? I find it both disappointing and sad that while all I can think about is: my career, school, and stuff like that, there are probably 100 other people starving, suffering in piss-poor hospitals (if they even have those), and probably wondering, "What the heck?" On my bad days, I sometimes think, "Dang why does my life suck?" Then on days like this, when I'm going through my journal, I'll remember that there is not one Kenyan I met that day in Chuka hospital who wouldn't gladly trade places with me.

What am I supposed to do? What are we supposed to do?

Day 27: If Ever I Witnessed a Miracle...

Dylan obviously had enough strength to mess around on the hike back from Mpuri

Dylan with the Mpuri Fellowship

The original plan for today was for Dylan and I to get our first chance to go out and witness to people around Weru. The day started out normally, but soon enough, Dylan seemed sort of out of it. At first, I thought Dylan was just maybe having a bad morning or something, but soon enough, he told me how his stomach was hurting pretty badly. Now up to this point, Dylan and I were super thankful to God that neither of us had gotten sick or hurt (except for my motorcycle accident), so I was pretty concern for my ministry partner. Dylan's stomach ended up hurting so much that he went to lay down and sleep off the pain. When Pastor arrived at the family's house, we decided it was better to make sure Dylan was okay and so we ended up not going out to witness. Now since it was Thursday, we were going to Mpuri again to visit the fellowship there, but if Dylan's condition didn't improve, we would have to take him to the closest hospital (and trust me, hospitals in this area are nothing like those in America). After lunch, however, Dylan said he was starting to feel better. Not only that but he was very insistent on us going to Mpuri that afternoon.

So amazingly, we made the trip out to Mpuri just as we had originally planned. Not only that, but as the day progressed, Dylan's health just seemed to steadily improve. When I asked him if he wanted to me to prepare a message for Mpuri (it was his turn to speak at Mpuri), he shook his head and said he would still do it. At Mpuri, when Dylan was asked to speak, he honestly looked as if he was at full strength again. He spoke on Isaiah 6 about the glory of God, angels giving us hot coals, and allowing God to send us forth. Dylan later told me that as he gave the message, he just sensed that he was saying things that he had not originally prepared.

If ever I experienced any miracles, this might have been it. Just a few hours earlier, Dylan was bedridden and didn't even seem to want to move too much. Dylan not only managed to make it out to Mpuri on a motorbike and give a message, but he even made the hour long trek back to Weru. Dylan later told me that in the days leading up to this day, he had been praying to God to humble him. Dylan definitely got his prayer answered; I have no doubt in my mind that God was using those stomach pains to make Dylan rely solely on Him.

Today was such a powerful thing for me to witness. Not because I had some super spiritual experience, but because I saw my brother in Christ experience God in ways he had probably not experienced before. I'm certain that God revealed a lot to Dylan about relying on Him through any and every circumstance and pain. God bless Dylan. I hope God is continuing to show you new things everyday at Vandy.

Day 26: Lakers!

From left to right: Kendi (Pastor's cousin), Dylan, and Pastor

Our lunch at Meru. Total=$4

Today, Pastor Mwiti returned from Nairobi and decided to take Dylan and me to Meru, the largest town around. So we get into a matatu (a Kenyan minivan that averages 20 passengers when it really should only hold 14) and enjoy a sweaty, uncomfortable hour long ride to Meru. It wouldn't have been that bad of a ride, except my contacts started becoming uncomfortable during the ride, leaving me squinting and often using only one eye to see. We crossed the equator which was pretty anticlimactic.

Once we get to Meru, Dylan and I decided to go to an internet cafe, because we haven't had any access to the outside world for a while. So what's the first thing I do when I finally get my hands on a computer? That's right: I check to see if the L.A. Lakers won the NBA championship and sure enough, I get the good news 2 weeks after the fact. I also go through my email and find some words of encouragement from some friends (a lot of people also sent me emails telling me that the Lakers won haha) and I even found out that Audrey Chau and Sarah Chi made it safely to Manila for the Global Urban Trek. While it was really cool to feel slightly connected to America and the outside world, I felt really distant. Everything I read and did on the internet just felt really disconnected. There I was sitting in a slightly ghetto internet cafe with my contacts hurting, reading about how the Lakers won 2 weeks after the NBA Finals ended and how people at home were doing this or that.

During our time in Meru, Pastor, Dylan, and I ate out ($4 for a complete meal for all 3 of us), visited a museum, and paid a visit to Pastor's cousin and her business. It was a pretty long day and we got back to Weru around 9-ish. For me, it was sort of a depressing day. I just felt really out of it the whole time I was in Meru, partially because my eyes were killing me and partly because while Meru is nicer and bigger than Weru, it's no metropolitan area and it didn't even have the homely feel of Weru.

And as always, going on the internet and learning about what's going on at home or with my friends was a strange, almost depressing experience. While it was nice to find out the Lakers won, to read encouraging emails, etc., I realized how far I was from home and that it would be weeks until I saw those whom I loved again. For now, I just had to appreciate being in Kenya, with a good friend in Dylan and sharing lives with a man of God like Pastor Mwiti. They were my family in moments like these.

Day 25: Part II: The Infamous Chick Story

My first time catching one of the three newly hatched chicks

So by now this story has circulated around a bit but here is the rest of Day 25 (aka "Worse Day Ever"):

So Dylan and I finally got home, tired and still miffed about what we had to endure that morning. To lighten things up, we decided to play with 3 newly hatched chicks. Ever since they had hatched, Dylan and I often entertained ourselves by running around and trying to pick the chicks up. This task was harder than it sounds because the mother hen was extremely protective and would try to peck at us. On this day, the hen and her chicks were foolishly loitering in an open field, whereas they're normally by the house which meant they could run under things to hide from us. Easy pickings for me and Dylan. With Dylan fending off the hen, I managed to catch 2 of the 3 chicks. It was time to catch the last one, take a picture, and show everyone back home how skilled I was at picking up chicks (pun very much ended haha).

So as I'm cradling the 2 chicks in my hands, I rush at the third one. As I reach to scoop it up, I stumble over the uneven ground and trip. I drop the two chicks as I was holding...and accidentally step on one of them. The chick is immediately writhing and spasming on the ground, all the while shrieking in pain. I stare down at the creature and all I can think is, "Oh no..." Within a minute, the chick is dead. I had just killed a cute, innocent, little animal. For me, running around trying to catch the chicks was a game, but to my host family, that chick could grow into a chicken and provide food or something.

Doris, our host grandmother, comes by right then and looks down and sees the dead chick. I apologize and try to explain it was an accident, but she doesn't seem to care too much. But still, never before have I felt so much guilt. For the rest of the day, all I could think about was how I was so angry during the morning and how I killed a chick. I honestly couldn't stand the shame from knowing what I had thought and done that day. Later on in the day, Edith takes Dylan and me to her father's house (Pastor was still in Nairobi). When we're asked to share a word with her family, I let Dylan do it because I honestly was in no mood to try to say anything remotely spiritual in my current state.

So this is something I haven't mentioned yet, but by this point in the missions trip, my contacts were hurting my eyes. I hate wearing glasses though and so I still wore my contacts as often as possible.

As we're walking home, my contacts are driving me crazy and I'm still thinking about what I could do to make things right for the family. As we're heading to the normal Tuesday even intercessory prayer meeting, Edith turns to us and mentions that one of us will give a message at the meeting. I sigh inwardly because I know it's my turn to speak because Dylan had done so at Edith's family's home. Not only did I not want to speak, but I had no idea what I would even speak on. Just when we're entering the church, I feel a sudden urge to speak on Matthew 26 when Jesus is praying in the Garden of Gethsemane. When I'm asked to come up to give the message, my contacts are still hurting and I'm blinking like crazy as I'm reading the Bible. But as I speak, I feel like God is giving me the words to say. So for the entire message, I speak as passionately as I've ever spoken and with the knowledge that my words were not my own. When the prayer meeting ends, I walk out feeling slightly redeemed knowing that God had still used me despite my idiocy but I still had to deal with the dead chick.

Before dinner, I decide to talk with Doris. I tell her that I'm going to make things right and that I'll buy another chick for the family. I sort of expected Doris to accept my plan and that things would be cool, but she becomes slightly upset at the notion of me buying another chicken. Eventually she looks me in the eyes and says something I'll never forget: "You're my boy. Just be free."

In that moment, I felt God telling me, "Yeah, Myron you're a complete fool but whatever grace this woman has shown you, my grace is infinitely better. No matter how many times you fail me, I'll still forgive and love you. Heck, I'll even use you like I did tonight." I stood there in shock for a few seconds at her words really hit me.

When people ask what I got out of Kenya, it's moments like these. It's not like a had one monumental experience that completely changed my life; instead, it was God showing me lessons every single day through little things. Would that I could be just as in tune with God here in America as I was in Kenya. This day couldn't have gone more terribly wrong, but in the end, I learned tangibly that God truly does remove all the shame and loves me more greatly than I could ever imagine. It only took going to Kenya and accidentally killing a chick for me to get that.

This happened a minute before I committed the unforgivable act

Day 25: Part I: The Beginning of the Worst Day Ever

Pictures from our (completely useless) tour

This is a story of one of my worst days in Kenya. Here goes.

This Tuesday started off like most Tuesdays. Dylan and I got up to go to school and we were going about the normal school day when we were told at recess that a teacher wanted to see us. She told us that she wanted to show us around Weru. So she brought us to her son and soon, we were taking a tour around the area. I thought this would be a short 20-30 minute tour and that we would return to school to teach our kids. But the whole affairs drags on to become a freaking 2.5 hour tour. For pretty much the entire tour, I was walking silently stewing in my anger, because Dylan and I were being dragged around pointlessly and I just really wanted to hang out with my class 1 kids. So I'm not going to lie: I was definitely angry to the point of sin.

So after wasting our whole morning, the teacher's son eventually brings us back to school. I'm thinking: "Yes! We can still teach P.E." Instead, the teacher then tells us that she's going to take us to her house to have tea. So we embark on yet another pointless journey to her house. By now, Dylan and I are both pretty upset, but I'm definitely about to spit venom at somebody. She sits us down and pours us chai and serves us arrow root to eat. First off, the teacher somehow forgets to give us sugar and so our chai tastes terrible. Secondly, both Dylan and I don't like arrow root very much (that's an understatement, Dylan hates that stuff). During this time, the teacher gets up to do stuff in another room. So as I'm slowly chewing on my arrow root, one of us (I honestly can't remember which one of us) gets the brilliant idea to throw the food out the open door. So I'm sitting near the door so I chuck mine out in rebellious anger over the injustices which I had endured all morning. Then Dylan winds up his arm and throws his root with a lot of strength. Only, he has a terrible angle and misses; his root hits the door with a loud "thump." We both start laughing as I rush to kick the crumbs out the door, and I deftly slip back into my couch as the teacher walks back in. We're both trying super hard not to laugh; the teacher notices our expressions (honestly, how could she not?) and asks us what's going on. We politely say that we were exchanging funny stories.

By this time, I just want to go home but the teacher decides to bring us on yet another tour to a nearby view of the local river. So we go...again. School had ended by then and so when the stupid tour is done with, Dylan and I go home. We realized that there were educational inspectors from Nairobi at the school and so maybe the school administrators wanted us gone for the day. We continued to hypothesize but by this time, I'm starting to feel guilty about being so angry. So we finally arrive home. But this morning's events were only the beginning of a day that was about to get even worse...

Day 24: Who's Blessing Whom?

Visiting Javin's shamba (he's the one on the far right)
From left to right: Me, Edith, and Betty as we're on our way to Javin's shamba

There have been very few tragedies in my life. For all 21 years of my life so far, nothing has really hindered me from focusing on accomplishing my goals, fulfilling my own desires, and watching out for number one. I've totally forgotten to love God and others-if I ever even knew how to at all. But in Kenya, people's lives are filled with poverty, sadness, and heartbreak. They never really get the chance to focus on bettering their own situations-it's just waking up everyday and surviving. It is seriously by God's grace that I can minister at all to these people whose eyes are filled with tiredness and the realization that they will never not be tired.

Today, Dylan and I made several house visits with Edith since Pastor Mwiti would be gone for a few days. Dylan and I taught at Motiguru in the morning and then we went around and about visiting church members, listening to their stories, and praying for them. I often felt like a fool as I tried to offer encouragement or words from the Bible to people who go through more crap in a year than I do in 21 years. These people include:

1) The kids I teach at school. A few of them got whacked today for not bringing materials to school. They will probably never get a decent education. i'm guessing most will end up working in their own shambas around the Weru area. They're good kids; it's just that the opportunities are just not there.

2) Margaret. Her family has been afflicted by so many injuries, sickness, and struggles. What can a foolish American college student possibly say to her amidst her trials? I really hope that God comes through for her and her family, because a lesser person would have given up already. May her faith be rewarded.

3) Church members like Betty, Javin, and Edith. They're people who have nothing better to do on Mondays than to fellowship and pray for another, and you know what? There is absolutely nothing wrong with that.

As much as Dylan and I hoped that what we did and said to these people somehow touched them, we know in our hearts that we are the ones who have been touched by their faith and humanity. Humanity is not sitting in a room doing random crap on a computer; it's what people like Kenyans do as they struggle to find joy and happiness (and they do) amidst their terrible conditions and difficult lives.

Day 23: Lukewarm

This Sunday was special in many ways.

Firstly, we had visitors! Pastor Karau and his wife came for the 2nd consecutive Sunday, and this time, they brought two American guests: Colleen and her mother, Kay. Colleen is definitely a special woman; she not only helped the Karaus and Lees start Sanctuary of Hope, but Kenya is so close to heart that she also adopted 2 Kenyan children as well. It's always really powerful to see people whose convictions run so deep that they are willing to let God change their lives. In Colleen's case, she had such a heart for Kenyan orphans that she took two home with her (legally of course).

Secondly, today was the first time Dylan and I officially preached at Weru Worship Centre. During the main service, Dylan gave a 50 minute sermon about lukewarmness and spiritual richness to a crowd of about 200. Later on at the night service, I spoke (not for 50 minutes haha) on 1 Samuel 1 and prayer. Neither Dylan nor I are preachers are at all, but we were so thankful that God always seemed to give us the words to speak. Whether sharing a word with a family or preaching in front of people, God really used us as His mouthpieces. We don't pretend that we knew what we were doing or saying a lot of the times, but as long as we were saying what God wanted us to say, it was cool.

In the afternoon, Pastor Mwiti left with the Karaus, Colleen, and Kay to go back to Nairobi, leaving us in the sure hands of the core church members. By now, Dylan and I really appreciated the Edith, Muredi, Javin, Betty, Mary, Salame, Telewanja, Janice, Dixon, and Patrick. They never hesitated to serve and they really set an example for the rest of the community.

Anyway, Dylan's sermon centered on lukewarmness and how God would rather us be either hot or cold. I had never really considered myself as a lukewarm Christian (I mean, who does?), but honestly, is there a better word to describe the majority of the American church? Whenever I'm living selfishly for myself, not caring about others, not living missionally, being apathetic, I'm being lukewarm and God wants to spit me out. That's one of the reasons why Kenya was such a powerful experience: in a way, I was forced to stop being a lukewarm, complacent Christian. All of sudden, I had to stop being the typical, uncaring, selfish Christian and instead, I had to become a follower of Jesus who loves God and others more than myself.

I suspect that's why my first week in Kenya was so hard. The transition from being lukewarm to being on fire for God and the things He cares about is not a simple change of heart. It's an ongoing process that requires being broken and humbled, crying out to God, taking the things I "know"about God in my head and transforming that head knowledge into true passionate convictions, and repeating the process over and over again.

Day 22: Community-Honestly, What the Heck is It?

Our host grandmother Doris (far right) and some neighborhood kids

Community. It's one of the watchwords of most Christian groups. We talk about it all the time in InterVarsity; we say things like "building community", "let's be a true community that...", "God-centered community", etc. Having been a part of IV for 3+ years, I thought I had community too. That is, until I went to Kenya and discovered something completely different.

You see, in America, people (both Christians and non-Christians) define their communities as people who they don't completely hate, can get along reasonably well with, laugh at their jokes, and have fun with. Throw in the occasional "deep" conversation (and by that I mean "let's talk about our problems" or "who do you think is cute" or "dang this person freaking annoys me") and you've got yourself 100%, certified grade A "community."

On this particular Saturday, Dylan and I witnessed a lot of true community. Like the previous Saturday, we joined some members in cleaning the church and by cleaning the church, I mean Dylan and I watched as everybody there (including the children) outcleaned and outworked us. Later on in the afternoon, some of the neighborhood kids came over and Dylan and I obliged them by chasing and running around with them. We couldn't help but smile as the kids laughed and screamed as we ran after them, picked them up, and tickled them. Later on, we joined the choir members for another time of practice and prayer.

You see, in Kenya, all they have is each other. In America, we all go through our days, doing our own thing, and when we a) get bored, b) become lonely, or c) just can't stand the loudness of silence, we go to whatever we deem community. But in Kenya and probably many other third world countries, community is a necessity, not a luxury. Neighbors stop by all the time to say hi, help prepare a meal, and talk over a cup of chai. Church members wake up early, clean the church, and then come back later to practice with the choir. Shame on you if you don't know everyone's name within a mile radius. People will not only share in your happiness and joy, but also in your suffering and trials. And what's the point in getting things done and being productive when you could just hang out and talk with a neighbor?

Kenyans don't have computers, TVs, iPods, and all this other crap to distract them from what really matters: loving God and loving those around you. I would argue that they are so much more real with one another than we Americans are with other, because in the end, they're willing to go out on limb for each other. Community is a thing of convenience in America; something to be ignored or disregarded when the going gets tough. Community is a thing of necessity in Kenya and other impoverished countries; something to be treasured because honestly, what else do you have?

I'm guilty when it comes to being a true friend and brother in Christ to those around me. I fall short in so many ways. But I've seen what it looks like when people truly, sincerely love one another and sacrifice for someone else's sake, and I won't settle for fake community or superficial friendships. For our own sakes, none of us should.

Day 21: Thirty Shillings per Kilo

Chai plants

Looking across a valley

Dylan and I spent the morning harvesting chai leaves with Edith, one of the core church members and leader of the choir. Families in Weru often plant their chai plants on the slopes of their shambas because they are pretty much the only crop which grows effectively on the sides of the hills and valleys. The three of us spent a good three hours walking along the rows of chai plants picking out mature (but not too mature) leaves. It was sort of fun to harvest the leaves and hang out with Edith (who banters a lot of Dylan), but eventually, it did get tiring and neither Dylan nor I were even the ones carrying the basket full of chai leaves on their backs. Later, we asked Edith how much she would be able to sell the leaves we collected for. She told us that a kilo goes for about 30 shillings and we had harvested about 5 kilos. So if we do the math: we would have earned about 150 shillings and we if convert to dollars (1 dollar to 80 shillings) then the three of us earned about $2 for 3 hours of work.

For me and Dylan, harvesting coffee beans and chai leaves gave us something to do during our downtime but for Kenyans like Edith, this was their life-they can't just decide that they don't feel like harvesting their crops and mess around instead. And all that work for what? A couple of dollars at most. Even the minimum wage in American is $8/hour (~640 shillings). What Edith and her family wouldn't do to make that sort of money in one hour.

Later on, Pastor, Dylan, and I were walking home after making a house visit to a family. During our journey, we met some men who were drinking. One of them decided to follow us after we had said goodbye to the rest of the group. Maybe the dude was drunk or maybe had some sort of problem, because he definitely acted a little strangely. All I remember thinking was how I wanted the man to go away and leave us alone. The man walked with us for a good 15 minutes and during that whole time, I didn't think any kind thoughts at all.

All of sudden, the man stopped walking with us. I can't remember if this occurred before or after he left us, but at one point, I felt God reminding me that He loves that man as much as He loves me. Once again, I was reminded of my inability to love people and my lack of desire to see people meet God. Once again, I was made painfully aware of how incomplete and lacking I am as a disciple of Jesus Christ.

At the end of that day, I asked God for a greater heart to love people with, whether it be my brothers and sisters in Kenya who work so much for so little or some random crazy dude walking with me...and it's still something I pray for today.

Day 20: Redemption-All Day, Everyday

Mpuri Fellowship

This day started off horribly. We woke up super late (which indicates to our family we're lazy bums haha), because Kevin messed up the time on my watch while he was playing with it last night. At breakfast, both Dylan and I were sort of moody and we both eventually admitted we were both redlining. We talked about how we were struggling with not judging Kenyan's super repetitiveness and overbearing emotional displays. It was just a poor start to the day. Generally, when my day starts off bad, it stays bad so I was really not looking forward to the rest of the day. First off we would be attending a prayer meeting at WWC which meant-guess what?-more super long prayers. Then we would be heading off to a fellowship meeting at Mpuri which is a town across the valley. But it's not about how you start the day, it's about how you end it.

I'll admit didn't into the prayer meeting with high expectations. The church members there started speaking in Kiswahili and I thought: "Well, here we go." But then, I realized that I could spend my time in ways I hadn't before. I picked up my Bible and just started reading. During the long prayers, I found myself praying for people back at home. Soon, Pastor Mwiti came around to pick me and Dylan up to leave for Mpuri. A 15 minute motorbike ride later, we arrived at the home of Zephaniah, Pastor Karau's brother-in-law. I looked around wondering where our fellowship meeting would be and found my answer when people started heading into a small barnhouse. Soon enough, the barnhouse was pretty full with singing and praying Kenyan brothers and sisters. After I gave on word on the fruit of the Spirit and Dylan prayed for the people there, we got a change to mingle and hang out with the people there. They were super welcoming and happy to just have American visitors. They kept saying, "Tell our brothers and sisters in America that we say hello and that we love them." So I hereby pass their regards and love to all of you haha.

I couldn't believe that these people were so happy about meeting in a barnhouse. I thought the place was ghetto but my Kenyan brothers and sisters had no qualms about worshiping and communing there. They were so full of life and such vibrant, loving people. Dylan and I were both pretty happy when Pastor told us that we would return next week to Mpuri. Just being around such joyful people really made my day; there was no way I was leaving Mpuri not having felt the love of God through these people.

Soon enough, we were on our way home. Instead of taking a motorbike around the mountains and hills, we would be hiking back home and what a beautiful hike it was. We went down a valley through chai fields, across a bridge overlooking a small creek, and hiked back up the picturesque Weru countryside.

God had really redeemed this day for me and Dylan. Not only is every day a new day, but honestly, every hour is a new hour. We started off feeling really moody and irritable but God really instilled in us a lot of joy and peace having met the people at Mpuri and enjoyed the beauty of His creation.

The challenge is to have the same mindset here in Berkeley or whenever I'm at. No matter how often I become frustrated or angry, I have to remember that God can bring about new lessons and new things to discover in a moment's notice. Redemption is just as real here in the U.S. as it was in Kenya. All day, everyday baby.

Day 19: More than Bricks and Mortar

Something we saw on the way back from Iriga

Dylan and Pastor Mwiti

For this day, I'm going to put down what I wrote down in my journal with some changes and comments here and there. For the most part though (say about 90% haha), this post is pretty much exactly what I wrote on that day:

Today, we walked over hills for an hour to meet Rachel, Pastor Karau's sister-in-law. To me, she demonstrates faithfulness through time. Her husband passed away some time ago and her children have grown up, so it's only her and her helper on the shamba. Yet, she's still so hospitable and motherly. God bless her and I'm glad she wasn't hurt injured more from her motorcycle accident (she was a pretty elderly woman).

When we arrived in Iriga for the fellowship meeting (Iriga is a sister fellowship of Weru Worship Centre), the building was locked but that didn't stop us from having fellowship. Fellowship is with people, not about bricks and mortar. We met behind the building and worshiped, prayed, and shared there. Here in Kenya, it's all about the people. In America (and possibly in Berkeley), it's about the building, the name of the fellowship, the small group, etc. Would that we Christians in America can have that same type of fellowship. There's too much to gain in American fellowships and not enough to lose/sacrifice. Here, people leave their businesses and shops in the middle of the afternoon to meet behind behind what is essentially a nice shack.

Kenya is by no means perfect. There are a lot of flaws here, even in the churches and Christian communities but there's a lot to love too. God, help me take these 7 weeks and let them form an idea of a fellowship that I can work to be a part of next year. It's all about responding-it doesn't mean a thing if I don't take what I experience and let it change me someway and somehow.

Day 18: Stopping and Smelling the Coffee Beans

Transporting our coffee beans to the factory

View from the coffee factory

When I got back from school today, I couldn't help but think about random things like seeing my teammates again, people back at home, etc. We had been in Weru for almost a week and I had developed a routine as I normally do when adjusting to new places. While it was okay for me to get into a rhythm, I realized the last thing I wanted to do was go through the motions. It's so easy for me to go through everyday getting things done and fulfilling my obligations but not really doing anything meaningful if that makes sense. Yes, it's important to check things off my daily schedule but not at the expense of doing things of eternal value. Things as simple as encouraging people, serving others, and talking with God. I was here in Weru for a reason and I did not want to lose these 3 weeks to just "getting things done" and "doing ministry." I wanted to be 110% present and ready to see what God had to show me. I wanted God to show me new things every single day and I told myself I wouldn't leave Weru unless God did so.

In the afternoon, Dylan and I harvested coffee beans with Jack (he helped our host family with their shamba) and another lady. We spent a good while picking the little red beans from trees before packing them up and heading to the coffee factory. Once at the factory, we had to sit and separate the red beans from the darker, maturer ones. This was a day in the life of a Kenyan and something Dylan and I had never done before. While I watch sports, work on problem sets, and hang out, these people have to pick coffee beans and literally live off the land in order to survive. For me, picking coffee beans was a novelty. It was something I could sort of be interested in for an hour before I got bored and then never have to do again. For Jack, this was something he would do probably once a week or something like that.

We had to rush back home because being at the factory had made us late for the weekly Tuesday intercessory prayer meeting. I was sort of glad we were late, because that meant we could skip out on the long, repetitive, emotional prayers (please don't judge me haha). We arrived to hear Pastor speak from the book of Daniel and Konge speak about not being entangled in the sin which so easily does so.

So I haven't really mentioned the three kids in the family very much yet and I definitely should. Their names are Mweti (16), Mercy (12), and Kevin (7) and they're the grandchildren of Doris. They were pretty shy at first but by now, they were pretty chill with me and Dylan. We were always home for dinner and it was always one of my favorite parts of the day. Kevin was especially ridiculous and is the most energetic and fun-loving kid I have honestly ever met. Our family was so chill that we pretty much broke all cultural sensitivity. Due to Dylan's gassiness, some of the nights with our family became farting sessions during which we spent the whole night yelling "Nimemyamba!"

Looking back, living life in Weru was too just too special for me to take for granted. There honestly was so much to see everyday. From the beauty of the mountainous area to doing ministry with Pastor to farting with the family, life was so special and sometimes I just needed to stop, realize where I was, and stop and smell the coffee beans.

Day 17: "Mr. Myron!"

As is very typical of a school day, Dylan and I had to wake up early today to teach at Motiguru Primary School. Dylan would be teaching class 2 (which is how Kenyans label the 2nd grade) and I would be teaching class 1. We arrived for the school's morning assembly, met the headmaster and some other teachers, and then proceeded to our respective classrooms.

Now, I wish I could say that Motiguru is like any elementary school in the U.S., but it's honestly nothing like an American school. The school basically consists of a large field where kids play during recess, one "wing" where most of the classrooms are, the headmaster's "office", and the teachers' lounge. The kids sit on pretty badly put together wooden desks and the floor is just dirt. I meet Mrs. Matambe who is the teacher of my class. As I enter the classroom, the kids all look excited to have a foreigner teach them as Mrs. Matambe introduces me as Mr. Myron. I quickly realize that the kids don't speak very much English and there's no real way that I can teach them. Mrs. Matambe must have come to the same conclusion, because she had me sit at her desk and basically become her teaching aide.

Sitting through class was actually kind of boring but at least I got to play with the kids at recess. The best part of being at Motiguru was leading the kids' P.E. time with Dylan. We basically taught the kids some exercises and played games with them (like Duck-Duck-Goose among other games). Throughout the whole day the kids were pretty distracted by me and Dylan, and seemed to be genuinely excited about having 2 Americans at there school. Being in class was boring but I tried my best to smile at the kids and help them with their work as much as possible.

Later on in the day, we went on another house visit, except this time, we went to home of Konge, who was the church's guest speaker yesterday. On a random note, it was during his message that I fell asleep yesterday. Konge's shamba is pretty legit; not only does he have the typical banana trees, passionfruit plants, cows, etc., but he also rows of chicken coups. I had never seen so many hens/roosters/chicks before. We spent a good 2 hours just hanging out with Konge on his farm before heading back home.

I realized later on just how blessed I am. Realistically, most of the kids I met earlier that day wouldn't go to a university and would probably end up living in Weru for the rest of their lives on farms. Even Konge who has a baller shamba and is probably considered really well off will never have the opportunities that I have. Truly, it takes a trip across the world to see and experience just how much I take for granted. What Kenyan wouldn't gladly trade his/her struggles for my "struggles?" The hardest part of my normal day is doing engineering problem sets, trying to balance schoolwork with hanging out with friends, and trying not to stress out as Kobe gets the ball with 5 seconds left and with the Lakers down my 2 points. Honestly? Really?

Yet, while I have so much and people like Pastor Mwiti, my host family, and the people of Weru in general have little, they have so much more joy than I do. It's become a cliche to say that those who live in poverty have more joy than those who live in abundance, but only because this is a true statement. Kenyans don't have the opportunity or resources to worry about all the crap that I think about, but they know what's important: their family, friends, community, and God. In some weird way, having less means they know their priorities better. In America, there's more stuff and random crap, and so I can prioritize watching a basketball game and checking sports stats over reading my Bible and seeing how my friends are doing. It's upside-down and twisted, but that's just how the world is.

Day 16: The Longest Sunday Ever

The typical American church service lasts about 1.5-2 hours. That certainly is not the case for Kenyan churches.

Dylan and I began our day by teaching Luke 4 (the temptation of Jesus) at Sunday School at Weru Worship Centre (WWC). In the U.S., Sunday School classes are normally divided by age groups, if not class grades, but in the class we taught, kids ranging from infants to high schoolers all sat in the sanctuary together. Most of the kids spend half the time staring at me and Dylan because it's not very often they see Americans. Afterwards, Dylan and I got a short break during which we met people coming into the church and played with the children. Little did we know that we would be in service for the next 5 hours.

The first hour of the service is called Bible Hour which is basically a sermon for the people that arrive early (essentially a sermon before the actual sermon). After Bible Hour, most of the sanctuary has filled up and there are probably around 200 people inside WWC. We then transitioned into a time of worship which is led by a church member named Edith (she's also the leader of the choir). After worship, Pastor Mwiti formally introduces Dylan and me as member of the GP team who have come to Weru to do ministry and serve with him. Next, Pastor Mwiti then goes up to give a message-the first of three. After Pastor Mwiti is finished, he invites up Pastor Karau who came back out from Nairobi to be there for the baptismal service which was going to be held after service. Pastor Karau then proceeds to give another message. Now, 96.8% of what is spoken/sung/prayed is in Kiswahili which means Dylan and I have no idea what is being said. By this time, we had been sitting in our chairs for a while and I know that I was getting pretty bored and restless. Finally, our guess speaker Konge, goes up to give the final sermon. Now I've mentioned before that Kenyan prayers are generally very long and their messages are no different. If your message is 45-60 minutes long, you're doing fine; if it's 30-45 minutes long, you're cutting it a bit close; and if it's less then 30 minutes (which is the average American sermon, mind you), then you clearly haven't thought things through enough.

So like any good American college student, I begin dozing off during Konge's message and my body decides to help me out by having my head dip up and down. So service finally ends literally 5 hours after Dylan and I sat down. As we walk out, we're both sort of out of it and look at each other thinking the same thing: "Oh my goodness...were we seriously just in there for 5 freaking hours?"

And our day is not done yet! We eat lunch (I was starving by then) and then we head off for the baptismal service. I was sort of wondering where and how the church would baptize its members and I got my answer when Pastor Mwiti told us that we would be hiking to the river. So there's Dylan and me, wearing our nice church clothes, walking on dirt path on the hottest day in Weru yet.

The actual baptism was pretty cool. Around 10 people were baptized that day by Pastor Mwiti in the river. Most Kenyans don't really swim and so most of them were pretty shocked to say the least when they came out of the water. By the time we get home, we're exhausted but the neighborhood kids come over to our host family's house too. So what can we do except run around and play with them?

By now, we're really exhausted. Fortunately, we have nothing to do that night and so we enjoy dinner with the family. Tomorrow, Dylan and I will begin teaching at the local primary school. Pastor Mwiti arranged for us to teach there Mondays and Tuesdays from 8-noon and so we're pretty stoked about being able to teach kids. We decided to turn in early because we would have to wake early the next day. So much for the day of rest.

Day 15: Dang We Suck

Weru Worship Centre

Choir practice!

Our first obligation for this fine Saturday was to help out with cleaning the church. One of the first things I notice is that some of the people at the church this morning were also just there for the kesha service. So they either a) only got a few hours of sleep or b) did not sleep at all. Now I knew we wouldn't have the luxury of vacuum cleaners but I thought that we would at least have mops or something. Wrong. Our cleaning equipment consisted of a towel and a bucket of water. So Dylan and I got down on the ground and started washing the church floor. Except that we were terrible at it. The three women also cleaning the church were so efficient and systematic; their backs were arched so much they were almost parallel to the floor and their hands were moving across the floor in a rhythmic, sweeping motions. Dylan and I were so terrible that we slowed down the women's progress to the point that we were eventually kindly told that we could just help move chairs.

For the whole time Dylan and I were at the church, I couldn't help but think: "Dang we suck." We Americans have it so good. Most of us almost never have to break our backs to do our jobs, much less offer to do so for the sake of the cleanliness of our churches. But here were these women whose entire lives involved physical work and manual labor. They didn't even have to be here helping serve the church but here they were just a few hours after ending the overnight prayer meeting, breaking their backs and cleaning. Dang we suck.

Later on that day, Dylan and I were asked to partake in the church choir's practice. We had already attended a practice two days earlier and were told to be at the practice at 3 PM. Dylan and I arrive at 3, and of course, there's no one there and the church isn't even open. You see, in Kenya, no one is ever on time. Their culture is a relational one meaning they aren't so keen on being efficient or productive. Kenyans would rather just hang out, talk about how things are going, and they'll be darned if a schedule gets in the way of seeing how your neighbor is doing. So Dylan and I almost spend the next 2 hours walking around, sharing our testimonies, and just getting to know each other better.

Finally, practice begins around 5. We practice some songs and learn some hand motions. The choir performs every Sunday during service, and so Dylan and I definitely did not want to embarrass ourselves in front of the whole congregation. After practice, we enter a time of prayer meeting.

So this was one of the hardest parts of being in Weru for both Dylan and me. Kenyans are very expressive and open about their faith. They are very passionate and it translates into how they worship God. A lot of times, when they pray, they are very repetitive and say things like "Oh Lord of Lords" and "Oh King of Glory." They also lift their hands, bow down, wail, cry out, come to tears, etc. And it's abnormal to pray for less than 20-ish minutes. To us American Christians, it was difficult not to judge them for being so wordy and emotional during their prayer meetings. I remember since this was our first time at a prayer meeting in Weru, I finished my prayer in about 5 minutes, looked up, and had no idea what to do for the next 15 minutes. I'll definitely talk more about this aspect of Kenyan Christianity later.

During this day, Dylan and I encountered a lot of Kenya culture and learned a lot. We saw their willingness to sacrifice for the Lord (both time and physical strength), to serve, to be passionate, and to be completely transparent in their faith. Initially, it was easy for me to have a "like this/don't like this" mentality about certain aspects of Kenyan culture. But as we learned earlier during our orientation week, sometimes, it's not right or wrong, it's just different.

Day 14: You Want Me to Do What?

Our first house visit

We often hiked up and down valleys like this

Today was the day that Dylan and I actually began our ministry with Pastor Mwiti and what a day it was. The day started with Pastor Mwiti telling Dylan and me that we would be making a house visit today to a family that was being "attacked." I'm not sure what Dylan was thinking, but my first thought was: "Wait...what?!? Dang, are we going to be casting out demons or something?" As we traveled to the family's shamba via motorbike (those things were pretty fun to ride on the back of), I couldn't help but feel some trepidation. Once we arrive, we meet the family and hear their story. Some of their farm animals had been dying/killed and their daughter had also suffered through some physical conditions (her feet were swelling). Later, Pastor suddenly turns to us and asks me and Dylan to each share a word with the family. Before we left for our ministry assignments, Brian (our director) had warned us to always be ready to share with people at any time. So Dylan and I pulled out our Bibles and shared Luke 8 and Joshua 1, respectively. After that, Pastor started talking in Swahili with the family while Dylan and I sat there taking in their expressions and gestures. Then Pastor turned to us and told us that the husband, Douglass, wanted to rededicate his life to Jesus. So Dylan, Pastor, and I end our time by praying over the family, their home, and their shamba. When we were heading back home, Pastor led us through a "shortcut" which basically involved us walking down a steep valley, jumping over a small creek, and then hiking up the other side. Dylan and I would eventually come to really love these treks to and from people's homes, because Weru is a beautiful, green, picturesque region.

Once we returned home, it was time for us to prepare for that evening's "kesha" service which is basically an overnight prayer meeting. Yes, you read that right-an overnight prayer meeting. In the U.S., I would be surprised to attend a prayer meeting that lasts over an hours, but dang, an overnight prayer meeting? Fortunately, Pastor told me and Dylan that it would be cool if we left at midnight which was a mere two hours into the meeting. Pastor also asked us to give a message and to say a prayer for those people attending the meeting.

So around 10 that night, Dylan and I walk over to the church (which is only about a 30 seconds walk from our house) with our flashlights because it's pitch black. Inside the church, there are a few people there and Pastor is upfront with a single lamp which is the only source of light in the church. Pastor opens with a time of worship and then I step up to the podium to give a message on Paul and Silas in the prison (Acts 16:16-40). After my message on praying to and praising God throughout our trials, Dylan steps up and prays for those gathered at the kesha. After that, we head home after our first full day of ministry, knowing that Pastor and others would be up for several more hours just worshiping and praying to God.

As we prepared to sleep, I couldn't help but feel relieved having been through my first day of ministering to people. I just prayed that God would use me and Dylan as His mouthpieces and that we would only speak what God wanted us to say. I also began to really admire Pastor's passion and convictions. Though I initially thought him to be a quite, reserved guy, he really was a man of God who really wasn't afraid to speak truth. Would that I could be more like Pastor Mwiti.

P.S. If any of you ever get the chance, ask me about when I tried riding a motorbike. The operative word being "tried."

Day 13: Pastor Karau's Hometown

Inside of Weru Worship Centre

Pastor Mwiti and I

Pastor Karau and one of the children at Sanctuary of Hope

So you all remember Pastor Karau? If not, please refer to Day 5: Mathare Valley (Part II). So it turns out he's actually from Weru, and Dylan and I were actually staying in his old house. Pastor Karau actually dedicated sizable chunk of land from his shamba (farm) to build a church. We were told that some people thought Pastor Karau was foolish since he gave up fertile land to build a church, but hey, Pastor Karau only lives to please the Man upstairs.

The church is called Weru Worship Centre (WWC) and it's one of the most beautiful churches I've ever seen. Pastor Mwiti is the primary preacher at WWC because Pastor Karau does most of his ministry in Nairobi in the slums and with Sanctuary of Hope. But Pastor Karau frequently comes back to his hometown to visit people and to see how WWC is doing.

Today was our first full day in Weru. The kids (who I will definitely talk about in another post) woke up early to go to school, and Doris was up and about way before Dylan and I got up. As Dylan and I are getting used to things, we have visitors! Pastor Karau had driven out from Nairobi to Weru with his wife and another lady named Rose.

We spent the day hanging out and talking with Pastor Karau, Rose (who is also a Pastor), and Mama Karau. Later on, we went with Pastor Mwiti to Chogoria to run some errands. It was a pretty chill day and later on that night, Pastor Karau shared his testimony with us and led us in a time of devotion (still a foreign concept to me).

Two things really stuck with me that night. First off, I don't want to go into details, but it was amazing to hear how God had transformed Pastor Karau's life. He's definitely an older fellow but he's only been a pastor for about two decades or so (I think). As he shared his life story, it was apparent to me that it was God alone who had intervened in Pastor Karau's life and who had ultimately brought about radical change in his life. Secondly, as we all sat around the dining table in the dimly lit room, I could't help but notice the scene: Kenyans and Americans sharing a meal and then reading the Word together. Pastors, students, family, and friends all seeking God and being a community.

What a testament of God's power. That He can change people so radically that they love Him and others more than they love themselves. That He can unite people who live across the world from each other and whose only commonality is Him. All glory to Him.

Day 12: Off to Weru

Today started at 4:45 AM when a bunch of us woke up to send off some of our teammates who had early departures. Some of them would have to travel 12+ hours just to reach their ministry assignment location. Those of us whose destinations were closer would depart later that morning. Around 9 AM, the rest of us boarded our buses and proceeded to the bus station where we said our final goodbyes to our teammates. Pastor Mwiti, Dylan, and I eventually found our transportation and we were off to Weru.

The ride to Weru isn't bad at all. It takes less than 5 hours to reach Weru and the roads are paved. Upon arrival to a staging area near Weru, the three of us got rides on motorbikes to reach our host family's house.

I was definitely just taking it all in as I walked through the family's gate. That day, it was overcast and it turns out it had been raining earlier which doesn't happen too often. Since we were in a mountainous area, the air was really crisp and the terrain was really green and lush. I was sort of excited to explore the family's "shamba", or farm, but there would be time for that later.

After we entered the house, we met Doris, our host grandmother. We would be staying with her and her three grandchildren. Since theirs is a host culture, Doris invited us in and served us a late lunch and chai. Pastor then showed me and Dylan the room we would be staying in and gave us some time to relax before showing us the church where he serves at. I'll talk about the church in my next entry.

Later that night after dinner, Pastor led a time of devotions. As he spoke on Romans 12, I couldn't help but be a little surprised. Firstly, I rarely do devotions back in the U.S., let alone with a group of people. Secondly, Pastor spoke with a sense of conviction and passion that I had previously not seen in him (granted, I had only known him for about a day or so). All the same, that time of devotions really spoke to me on several levels.

After devotions, Dylan and I retired to our room where we journaled with a lamp between us (no electricity!). I was excited for the ministry we would be doing but all the same, but 3 weeks of living and serving in a rural area seemed like forever. I still wasn't sure what to expect from being in Weru, but Dylan and I were here now, and we were ready to let God work through us so that others might be blessed and our hearts might be changed.

Reflection on Days 1-11

Our time at Watakatifu Wote Senta, at Ngong, with our teammates, with our staff, with our directors was all over. From here on out, it would just be me and Dylan pretty much in the middle of nowhere, hanging out with a dude (Pastor Mwiti) we barely knew. So what was I feeling before I fell asleep the night before all of us were about to disperse all over Kenya?

Honestly, my first 10 days in Kenya were really difficult. I had no idea that I would struggle as much as I did. I had to deal with so much crap like my personal sins, guilt from knowing how reluctant I was in coming to Kenya, my heart of stone that prevented me from loving others, and realizing that I was struggling most when I should technically be the holiest I've ever been. What made all this that much harder was the fact that I really didn't know, let alone trust, anyone on the team. I mean, yes, I shared some stuff with my small group, and yes, I did bond with some of my teammates, but honestly, I bottled most of what I was feeling to myself.

At the same time, I still got some glimpses of how God was working in Kenya and even in my own life. Though there was a lot of darkness within me, I still got to capture some powerful instances of the hope, peace, and love that is found in God. Sanctuary of Hope showed me the power of vision and commitment to what one believes is right. Wanja showed me what courage and strength from God can do. Brian showed me the sustainability of living with passion and conviction. My Kenyan teammates showed me what boldness looks like. My GP teammates showed me what a community that is centered on God looks like. Kenyan children from the slums and streets showed me what joy looks like amidst so much poverty and brokenness.

Even my own sins and struggles showed me that I cannot do anything for Christ unless He is there with me guiding me every step of the way. In my heart, I began to understand that maybe I had raised close to $5000 and had come all the way across the world, and the only person whose heart would change from my time in Kenya would be my own.

So while I had despaired and wrestled with a lot of issues, I had faith that God really did have a purpose for me in Kenya. That even though I was messing up so badly and couldn't see exactly how God would work in me, God would come through and transform me.

And so as I got ready to say goodbye to my teammates and depart for Weru, I clung to the faith I had that God would not only use me for His purposes but that He would also break and mold me for His glory.

Day 11: Commissioning

Even before Dylan and I found out we were going to be partners for our 3-week ministry assignment, I already considered him one of my best friends on the team. We just got along really well and we identified with each other because we both come from fellowships that are predominantly Asian. Both of us were also the only people from our schools (Dylan goes to Vanderbilt) and so we had that small but significant connection as well. So while I didn't really express this to anyone, I felt really blessed to have Dylan as my partner and I was pretty stoked to see what God had in store for our friendship.

So our ministry assignment was in Meru, but in actuality, the two of us would be in Weru which is a rural area right by Mt. Kenya (Meru is just the largest city around). One of the first things we found out about our assignment was that we wouldn't have electricity or potable water for We weren't sure what our assignment specifically entailed but we were told that we would be teaching, making house visits, and preaching. Dylan and I would also be partnering with Pastor Mwiti, who had actually arrived at Watakatifu Wote Senta with a bunch of other Kenyan pastors the night before to meet us. Our initial impression of Pastor Mwiti was that he was a quiet but sincere man, but we were going to share lives with him for 3 weeks and so we knew we would have plenty of time to get to know him better.

Today, we had a commissioning service during which each of the ministry pairs were commissioned to go out and be ambassadors for the Gospel. When each ministry pairing went up, they would kneel on the floor as a staff anointed their foreheads with oil and commissioned them. Then the entire GP team would gather around the partners, lay hands on them, and listen as the staff prayed over the ministry partners. I'll always remember kneeling with Dylan as Ryan Davenport put oil on our foreheads, commissioned us, and finally prayed over us as our teammates gathered around us. It was a powerful moment-one that I will not forget.

Later that night, we had our last time of worship together as a team for at least 3 weeks. It was pretty awesome as directors, staff, students both American and Kenya, and Kenyan pastors all sang to our God together. This is the power of God: that He can unite so many different people from all over the world and that we all a singular purpose, which was to let Him transform our hearts and to serve Him as best as we could.

Weru, here we come.

Day 10: Good News

There was definitely a buzz on this day because we would find out our ministry assignments and partners in the afternoon. We all wanted to know where we were going, what we would be doing, and whom we would be doing these things with.

In the morning, we had a session called "Good News" during which Brian talked about the Gospel. He asked us to list things knowing Jesus Christ has done for us or given to us. The list was super, super long and included things such as: eternal life, purpose, community, etc. All the things we had listed were manifestations of the Good News of the Gospel. We knew in that instance that God loved each one of us so much and wanted us to experience His goodness in so, so many ways. Brian then challenged us by asking if we wanted these things on the list for other people. I had never thought about what the Gospel had done for me and because of that, I never really cared if those around me heard the Good News. But as a Christian, I have already experienced so much richness in my life even if I do not realize that every day. And as a disciple, it's now upon me to extend that richness of knowing the Good News to those around me.

Fast forward to the afternoon and the entire GP team is in the conference hall ready to hear our assignments. Brian puts up a map with labels and names unto the chalkboard but it's a fake map meant to throw us off (some people's names were in Uganda or in the middle of the Indian Ocean so those ministry assignment would sort of suck). Then Brian put up the real assignments...and I was paired with Dylan Hillman and we were going to Meru.

Day 9: In Way Over My Head

Today, we went to our first church service in Kenya. The church we visited was called Nairobi Pentecostal Church; it's a rural church that also houses and educates probably over 100 children who were once on the streets. The service itself was pretty...unique to say the least. The speaker's message was about financial and life planning and his closing prayer probably lasted over 20 minutes. We didn't know this until later, but apparently, Kenyan speakers often use their time not only to preach but to also train their audiences in matters such as money, serving, HIV, etc. After the service, the team proceeded to hang out, play, and tour the compound with the children. It always gave our team so much joy to play with Kenyan children and to see their joy. These children have none of the possessions and crap that children from developed country have, yet, they don't complain and live a life of simple joy with one another.

Earlier in the day, I had written out a list of expectations I had for the GP and whether they had been met or not met in the first week. I wrote out my good expectations (developing a heart for missions, being transformed by God, etc.) and my bad ones as well (struggling with team culture, being distracted, etc.). As I went through my list, I realized all my good expectations were not being met and that all my bad ones were being met. Granted, it was only the first week, but holy crap, wasn't anything going right for me on this missions trip. It seemed like I could do no right. One of the purposes of our first week of orientation and training was to prepare us for our ministry assignments, during which we would be sent in pairs all over Kenya to do ministry with local pastors for 3 weeks.

So there I was: a few days from ministry assignment and realizing I was pretty much not spiritually ready at all to do ministry. I could barely take care of myself spiritually so how in the world could I serve others? At this point, my thoughts were that I was completely in way over my head and that this GP was not at all what I expected. In a matter of days, I would most likely be living in really poor conditions, hanging out with only one of my teammates, dealing with large spiders, and probably serving with a really, really holy pastor. I knew in my heart that I needed so much faith that God really did indeed have a plan for me in Kenya and that He would guide me through any and everything.

Day 8: Storms

Today was a pretty chill day: our team had a few seminars but other than that, we didn't leave Watakatifu Wote Senta to go anywhere. However, Brian, the GP director, did give one of the best Bible studies I've ever heard. The passage we studied was a familiar one, Mark 4:35-41, which is about Jesus calming a storm.

One of Brian's main points is that there are "storms" in all of our lives. There are external storms which are the difficult circumstances and events in our lives, and then there are the internal storms which are the personal struggles, sins, and anxieties we deal with. Many times, the external storms directly influence the internal ones. So Brian asked us, "Are there storms, either external or internal, in your lives?" My first thought: "Heck yes." Then he asked, "Are there storms in your life in which you fail to trust Jesus?" The Christian answer would be: "Nah (add emphatic hand motion), I trust Jesus completely." But my honest answer would be: "Yes, and in fact, I never want to trust Jesus. My first instinct is always to figure things out myself and to forge my own path in life."

That's what made my junior year so terrible: I struggled with so much crap but never did I really trust Jesus. Sure, I would pray that God would work His will in my life but that was just my standard God-if-You-feel-like-it-feel-free-to-help-me-out prayer. It really does take so much resolve and faith to trust in God's plan for us. Later, when I was writing in my journal, I wrote that I can expect 100% for storms to come in my senior year. And when they come, will there be faith? Will there be peace?

This would only be the beginning of the theme of trusting in God's plan through and through, in any and every situation.

Day 7: Wrestling with this Sinner's Heart

For some stupid, super naive reason, I thought I would be twice as holy, righteous, profound, and in tune with God in Kenya as I normally would be in my everyday life (which isn't saying much but that's not the point). I didn't think I would bring my normal struggles and sins with me to Kenya, 'cause when you're on missions, you are all holy and don't sin at all, right?

I remember that on this day, I came to the realization that not only would I have to deal with all my sinful habits and struggles, but I would have to deal with them in an entirely new environment. Here in Kenya, not only were my sins present, but they also manifested themselves in entirely new ways.

I remember sitting by myself and realizing that God would have to do an amazing work in me in order for me to be "mission-worthy." I felt so crappy that day, because I felt like God literally had to wrestle with my heart and all the deeply-seeded sins in it. If I was critical and cynical back at home, well, I was doubly so during the GP. If I was prideful and competitive before, well, I was just as so in Kenya, if not even more. Unfortunately, this was only the start of my struggles; my problems with being critical, cynical, and prideful would plague me throughout the 7 weeks...

Later that night, the team traveled to Nairobi to visit a Christian Union (CU) meeting, which is basically a college fellowship group. This was my first opportunity to see how Kenyan Christians my age expressed their faith. I sat in one of the front rows so I couldn't really see how the students there worshiped, but I remember that there was just this enthusiasm in the room. Maybe it was because they were hosting over 30 foreign visitors, but the students at the fellowship seemed so excited and energetic.

Anyway, this day was hard for me in that I really felt so unworthy and unfit to be on a missions team. I felt like I was the only person on the team struggling; I didn't know why God called me to go on missions when it was pretty clear I was not missionary-material; I still wasn't sure if I would really click with anyone on the team; it was just an overall really bad day. As you can tell from my previous entries, I wasn't having a very good first week in Kenya. But that's why there were 6 more weeks to go and that's more than enough time for God to show me what's up.

Day 6: Nairobi

Sorry I haven't updated the blog in a week; I was serving at my church's youth camp last week.

Anyway, on this day, our team was going to Nairobi for a scavenger hunt. My first thought was: "Yes! Finally, a less intense day." After going to Ngong and Mathare Valley the two previous days, I was honestly ready to just chill and get to know my teammates better while visiting a more "touristy" location.

Now, I had not known this prior to arriving in Kenya, but the country was actually deciding whether to pass a new constitution. The election was to be held August 4 to see whether the people of Kenya wanted to pass this proposed constitution. While the constitution limited the powers of the president, it also gave more powers to Muslims (Kenya is a predominantly a Christian nation like America) and allows for abortion in more circumstances. Given these facts, we learned that the majority of the Christians in Kenya were opposed to the proposed constitution because of these changes. During the last election in Kenya, post-election violence led to approximately 1,000 deaths across the country.

The day before our trip into Nairobi, we learned that a bomb went off in the city during a rally for the "No" party. So as we drove into the capital ready to enjoy our day, a lot of us couldn't help but think about the bomb that had went off the previous day. In America, we almost never worry about violence or turmoil during elections, but here in another country, anything could happen.

Once we arrived in Nairobi and began our scavenger hunt, my team and I had fun going around to different locales and points of interest. Subconsciously, I knew I would be gone from Kenya in a matter of weeks and so regardless of how the election went and whether any turmoil ensued, I would be back in America, in the comfort of my home and in a country where I don't have to worry about my safety during an election year.

Well, the election has already passed, and the majority of the country voted "Yes." Thankfully, the process has been peaceful and without major incident. I'm thankful to God that He protected the country against violence and that He kept His people in Kenya safe. But that day in town was a stark reminder that while we Americans go about our daily lives, very few around the world live as we do.