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.

Day 5: Mathare Valley (Part II)

The GP team spent the first half of this day around Mathare Valley Church (MVC). It was on this day that we met Pastor Karau and his family. At MVC, Pastor Karau, his son Steve, and others provide a clinic, education, food, daycare, etc to children in the slums. The people at MVC were the ones who showed us around the church, gave us a tour of Mathare, and invited us into their homes (like Wanja from the previous entry). I can't even begin to count all the people who are blessed by Pastor Karau and MVC's ministry. Children can come here to be taught, fed, and taken care of. Women with HIV can work with Wanja and others in Taraja where they make jewelry to sell. The building where MVC is was supposed to be a brothel; now, it is a place where God and His children dwell.

So it turns out that Pastor's Karau and his family bring their work home. What do I mean by that? The Karaus visioned and partnered together with Brian and Debbie Lee (the directors of the GP) to start Sanctuary of Hope (SOH). The Karaus and Lees take in children who were in critical need or conditions from the slums into 2 homes in a suburb on the outskirts of Nairobi. Currently, twenty-two children (one child, Esther, was rescued during the GP!) have been rescued from the slums into 2 homes (SOH1 and SOH2) where the Karaus and others educate, care for, and love them. Honestly speaking, I cannot for the life of me think of a more apt name for these homes than Sanctuary of Hope.

During the latter part of the day, the team traveled to Pastor Karau's home/SOH where we ate and then met 21 of the most beautiful kids I had ever seen (Esther had not moved in yet). When we entered the gate, there they were, dressed so cleanly and rehearsing Psalms and songs to us. Once the kids finished their routine, we proceeded to play with them in the yard for the next couple of hours.

Earlier in the day, when we were in MVC, Brian teared up as he told us that there is something downright wrong with seeing kids living in the slums where they barely have any food and no access to medical or educational services. He told us the starfish story: There was a beach lined with thousands of starfishes who had washed up ashore. One guy was throwing any starfish he saw back into the ocean and when his friend saw this, he scoffed, saying, "You'll never be able to make a difference."

The first guy threw another starfish into the ocean, looked up, then said, "It did for that one."

In the same way that there is something wrong with seeing kids living in extreme poverty in a slum, there is something right about seeing kids rescued from a slum into a home where they can grow, physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually. There is something so pure and beautiful about those kids and Sanctuary of Hope. They are 21 starfishes whom people cared enough to pick up and throw back into the ocean.

When it comes to social justice issues such as poverty, racism, etc, I admit that I know nothing about these issues. But here's what I do know: each "starfish" we meet and encounter is worth saving. In the end, I think that's what God desires as well: to see His love for us overflow from us so that we have no problem not making a difference; but instead, He desires to see us love and care for the individual lives we meet along the way.

To learn more about SOH, buy jewelry to support SOH, or receive more information about how to support this ministry, please visit www.pambatoto.com

Day 5: Mathare Valley (Part I)

Today, we visited the second largest slum in Nairobi, Mathare Valley. Well, the previous night, I had asked God to reveal His heart to me and He would show me on this day. To be honest, the team's day in Mathare was so emotionally raw and powerful that the only way I can share with you all is by sharing specific moments in time that I wrote down in my journal. So much happened that day that I will split today into two blog entries. So here are my entries exactly as I wrote them that day.

Scene I: Driving into Mathare Valley

Tin houses and roofs. Six hundred thousand people living on $2 or less in a 6 square mile plot of land. Trash is everywhere. The water is brown and dirty. People walk around (seemingly aimlessly) and lounge around. It's trash-burning day and so some areas are full of smoke as piles of garbage burn. There's a sense of hopelessness and despair-at least, one would think...

Scene II: Daycare Center at Mathare Valley Church

We're inside the daycare center where children are fed brown porridge and taken care of. The kids here are so joyful and energetic despite the realities of their lives. Most children come up to us yelling, "How are you?" They smile and play with reckless abandon. Yet inside, I try to greet a young infant boy with the customary "Sasa?" I reach out to shake his tiny hand. His head has been facing downwards the whole time and he refuses to make eye contact with me. As I reach forward, he recoils from my touch...Most of the children smile and play with us "wazungu" (foreigners) but some are like this little one. I'm filled with sadness that nothing seems to give joy to this little boy. Jesus loves him so much and I feel completely incompetent and sad that I can't share this fact with him. I hope and pray kids like this who have experienced so much physical discomfort and pain will come to know God's love. I think it might be the only thing that will lift up their little heads.

Scene III: In Mathare Valley

We're in Wanja's "house." It's tiny: a couch, mini coffee table, and bed. My bedroom is twice as large as her tin room. Wanja is telling our group her testimony: she's a single mother of 4, is HIV-positive, and serves at Mathare Valley Church (MVC). You can tell she's been through a lot. She tells how her husband left her after she was 2 months pregnant with her (first?) child, how her youngest child is HIV-positive as well because she had to breastfeed him so that he wouldn't starve...Gosh, what an impossible choice. There has been so much pain and heartbreak in Wanja's life; yet she has been a huge blessing to other women at MVC. She's so courageous and God has performed a miracle by keeping her alive through her illness. How does she do it after she's gone through so much? I'm a coward compared to her...God, watch over Wanja and her family as they go through their struggles. Please strengthen them so that they can testify of Your goodness. God bless you, Wanja...

Day 4: Ngong

Today is our first full day in Kenya and we, the team, start off our time in country by starting our orientation. We begin by discussing how to adjust to a new culture and how to respond appropriately to cultural barriers and differences. It's here where we're introduced to what is now a very familiar term on us: red-lining. Red-lining is essentially a euphemism for becoming defensive, criticizing, isolating oneself, rationalizing, etc. when confronted with a conflict in a cross-cultural setting.

Withdrawing from your host family to journal? Red-lining. Judging Kenyans when they do things differently? Red-lining. Complaining incessantly? Red-lining. Not wanting to eat the food? Red-lining. I'm not trying to poke fun at the term; I'm just trying to say that we used the term whenever we reacted negatively to some cultural difference. But honestly speaking, to me, red-lining essentially meant I failed to love the people of Kenya when I was met with come conflict or challenge when I should have been patient, kind, gentle, etc.

The real highlight of the day was going to Ngong town during the afternoon in small groups to buy some stuff (snacks, laundry detergent, etc). This was our first real experience in Kenya. As we talked to town from Watakatifu Wote Senta (WWS), I felt a nervous excitement. There was a lot to take in. Little kids would run up to us yelling, "How are you?" in their high voices. The many Kenyans walking along the town streets would stare at us Americans as we walked by. Before we left, I had prayed that I would see the people in Ngong as God saw them. Well, as soon, as we were walking through the center of the town feeling the stares of crowds, I could not help but feel protective of my group (I was the only guy in my group). I just wanted to grab all the items on our list as quickly as we could and get the heck back to WWS. On our way back, a drunk guy named Charlie accosted us and wouldn't leave us alone. I tried to play it off like I was chill with it but honestly, I just wanted to ditch the dude and get back to WWS, our haven.

Later that night, our team had a sharing time during which people talked about their trips to Ngong. Some people played with school children on their way back (our group didn't). Some people had Kenyan men propose to them (didn't happen to our group). Some people even had conversations about Jesus with Kenyans (our group didn't).

As I retired to my room later that night, I couldn't help but feel disappointed. I couldn't help but realize that I had no heart for the people I had seen earlier that day, especially Charlie. I wondered what Jesus would have done had He walked through Ngong. What would Jesus have said to Charlie? I knew in that moment that I did not love, that I had no love to share with others. All I could think about as I walked through Ngong was: A) No one had better threaten or hurt my group because I sure as heck will strike back and B) how I could observe and learn about Kenyan culture and people...from a distance and not through actual interactions. I'm pretty sure that's not what Jesus would have done. I didn't have the love of a Chrisitian, let alone the heart of a missionary. I went to sleep praying that God would reveal something to me, something that would break this stone heart.

Day 3: I'm Here

After over 20 hours of travelling, our team finally arrives in Kenya. We're all half-dead as we wait around for our luggage to arrive but at the same time, there's a sense of anticipation and excitement as we all just want to run outside and take in Kenya. It's at the airport where we meet our 3 Kenyan teammates: Catherine, George, and Hellen. They're complete strangers right now (I'll even admit I found them intimidating at first) but none of us has any idea just how great of friends they'll become. Once we've loaded our luggage and boarded the buses, we're on our way.

I'm dead tired but I keep myself awake so that I can take in my first impressions of Kenya and its people. I notice that we're driving on the left side of the road...there's so many people walking along the streets and dirt roads...everyone is Kenyan (I know that's obvious but I'm from California where there's often a lot of different skin colors on streets). There's a lot of traffic because Joe Biden is in town so our drive ends up taking a long, long time. Soon I can't keep my eyes open anymore and fall asleep. When I wake up, it's dark and we've arrived at Watakatifu Wote Senta, our first home in Kenya. We pick roommates (holla Nathan!), find our rooms, and eat dinner.

Soon, I'm sitting on my bed and realizing for the first time: Dang, I'm actually, finally in Kenya. After months of both wanting and not wanting to come and hours of travelling, I'm here...and I have no idea what I'm doing. If I had had more energy, I might have started feeling the weight of being in Kenya for a missions trip but I was just too exhausted at that point. So I fall asleep with this one last thought: I'm going to be here for 7 weeks...that's a long, long time...God I hope You know what You're doing cause I sure as heck don't.

Day 2: No Time for Small Talk

If any of you have seen Facebook pictures of our GP team, you would think we've been best friends forever. Doing ministry and serving together on a missions trip definitely bonded us together in ways that normal circumstances cannot. I mean, c'mon, when would I ever normally hang out with a bunch of people from Montana, North Carolina, Colorado, Arizona, New Mexico, Michigan, Ohio, or Tennessee? But the GP team is my family now. These are the people with whom I constantly talked with, laughed, cried (figuratively, not literally), struggled, confided in, encouraged, and ultimately grew with for 7 weeks. As "Lord of the Ring" as this might sound (cue Shire themed music), we will forever bonded by our time together in Kenya.

So the previous day, I arrived at JFK airport pretty late where I proceeded to Federal Circle to call for a shuttle to take me to the hotel where the team was meeting for the first time. As I reach for the courtesy phone, I hear someone say, "Myron?" I turn around and there's Jackie and Katie (GP staff) with a sign reading: Kenya GP. My first impression is: "Dang, they actually sent people to pick us up." Soon enough, I meet my first teammates who arrive at Federal Circle: Jenny and Missy. As we make small talk on our way to our hotel, my second impression is: "OK, these are cool people, but I don't know if how much I have in common with them." By the time I enter the conference room where the other 30 some people are (since we're pretty much the last people to arrive), my third impression is: "Holy crap, there are a lot of people. Dang it, I'm never going to remember all their names, let alone make friends."

We stay the night and soon enough, we're on our way to Kenya. No time to bond. No time for formal introductions. No time for small talk. There we were: waiting around in a terminal or sitting on an Emirates plane. All friendships would have to be made en route.

I soon realized I did have at least one thing in common with all of my teammates: God. We all decided to go on a missions to discover more about God, to learn about missions, and to allow God to do a good work in us. It made me think: earthly commonalities make for great friendships but when Jesus is the uniting factor for people, it makes for eternal, almost God-ordained (I don't know if that's the right word but it feels right so please bear with me) friendships. So what did it matter if I initially felt I had nothing in common with my teammates (of course, it turned out I did)? I know now without a doubt that it wasn't school allegiance, sports teams, personality types, ethnicity, or anything else that bonded and united our team, it was Jesus.

Day 1: The Journey Before the Journey

So as I'm sitting at LAX alone at 6 something in the morning, I can't help but think: How the heck did I end up here? You know the saying: It's not the destination but the journey there that counts. Well, in my case, the journey before the journey had as much significance in my life as the journey itself. So where to begin? In a nutshell, the year leading up to the GP was a crappy year. Never before had I experienced so much frustration and failure.

Exactly one year ago at the end of summer 2009, I thought I had had the best summer ever. I had a paid internship, the Lakers won the NBA championship, I bought all whole mess of crap, hung out with friends every weekend, etc. Going into the school year, I was convinced it would be good year. I was no longer a leader in my IV chapter so I thought I would have time to serve the local community, hang out more with people, focus on school, and so forth. I even told myself I would get an even better internship so that the following summer, so that the following summer would be even more lavish and exciting.

A few weeks into the year, I felt God putting an inkling of an idea to go on a summer missions trip but quickly scoffed at the idea. I had already planned out my summer, right? Wrong. In the next few months, I got rejected or didn't hear back from all the internships I applied to; I failed miserably in my plan to do community service around Berkeley; my grades were substandard; I became so wrapped up in my own struggles that I forgot how to care about others; and anger and frustration quickly boiled up in me.

I eventually resigned myself to my fate: I would have to go on a missions trip. At InterVarsity's missions conference, Urbana, I decided to check out missions organizations to see which one God wanted me to partner with on but I sure as heck didn't really want to partner with one. I stumbled upon the IV GP booth where I talked with a man. At the end of our talk, he did something no other missions organization did: he asked to pray for me. That really stuck with me.

When I got home from Urbana, I checked out the GP website and saw Kenya as one of the locations GP teams went to. This might sound stupid but I picked the Kenya GP simply because my favorite speaker at Urbana was a Kenya pastor (Oscar Muriu). And so I applied and got accepted onto the team. I was on my way to Kenya.

A few months and many, many support letters later, there I was in LAX. Now just because I was on this GP team didn't mean I was any less reluctant to go on missions as I was months ago. Even on that day, June 5th, I had no desire to go to Kenya, let alone serve there. Even that night before as I ate my last meal in America with my buddies, I thought to myself: Man, I'd rather just stay in L.A. this summer and do nothing...but I've already told people I'm going and I've taken their donations so I guess I must go.

That's how this foolish one ended up in LAX that day on his way to New York to meet his team. To say that I was unprepared in every aspect would be an understatement. I was totally ready to wing this missions trip. And so the pre-journey ended and the real journey began as I boarded Flight VX404 to JFK Airport. I had no idea God had so much in store for me...

Introduction

Hey everyone,

As many of you know, I was in Kenya this past summer for 7 weeks on a missions trip called the InterVarsity Kenya Global Project (GP). I went with a team of over 30 students from both American and Kenyan universities. The GP began on June 5th when the team met in New York and ended July 24th when we returned stateside.

There's no way that I will be ever fully describe my experience in Kenya but I hope this blog will help convey to you all the faithfulness, goodness, and power of our God. In this blog, I will relive everyday that I was in Kenya: the stories, the lessons, the emotions, the struggles, etc. If nothing else, this blog will remind me of all that God did in my own life this summer and will hopefully spur me to live a life of response to God's love and grace-a life of conviction, passion, and vision. So I invite you all to join me as I remember and reflect.