An Almost Perfect Weekend (We are Ok)

This weekend was almost perfect.  It was warm and sunny, we had a full family day hiking to the river, seeing the hydro-electric dam that generates power for Tenwek, meeting some Kenyan kids to play with, a skype call with Michael's sister.  And then a notification from the US Embassy: Do not go to Westgate Mall. Shooting. Al-Shabab. Sheer terror.

If that notification went unnoticed, the weekend could have been so nice. For us in isolation.  

But we don't live in isolation.  Bad news really does affect us.  We were in that shopping mall and the Nakumatt supermarket that is under siege exactly two weeks ago stocking all our supplies.  When I lay my children down to sleep at night, it's on pillows purchased in that holed up terror hideout. I cover them with blankets bought in the upper isolated back corner of that store, where I don't know if I saw an emergency exit or not. 

I wish that image were not in my head. We were trained for this in pre-field so I feel even the simulated surge of panic rush my veins. I wish it were just daisies and roses and not really happening.  This is the third day of it. 

We are pushed to examine our motives for being here again.  God, is this where you want us? 

But Sunday came and I had a commitment to go to church with our house-helper, Peris.  Peris has been leading Bible studies for women together with another missionary for 8 years now.  They train women to teach other women the Scriptures and when they have memorized 18 verses, they are given their own Kipsigis language Bible.  I knew it was important day for them, but I had no idea how important.  So yesterday I got to go to a Kipsigis church service that lasted 5 hours for these 83 women to receive their first Bible.  That was why I was here.

They put a graduation gown on us and all 83 women had sashes and uniform for graduation.  We marched in singing and processing.  I wanted to duck into the first empty seat possible, but being dubbed “line leader” they had me sit on the dirt floor platform with the other leaders for the ceremony.  Thankfully I knew a little bit of what to expect from a Kenyan church ceremony event.  I needed to make an official greeting and short word to the congregation so I told them I also just graduated from my Bible study at Emmanuel Christian Seminary in the USA and my professor was a Kenyan, even a member of their tribal family the Kalenjin. And I needed to sit there for five hours.  The hundred or so children would stand outside quiet and still too as they waited to see their mamas awarded.  And there was singing. Oh there was singing and singing and singing.  These folks got their praise on yesterday.  They sang “I know that Jesus has loved me” over and over in Kipsigis language.

If my Internet was able, I’d upload a video of the singing.   They got their names called up and I handed the Bible to them with two hands because a gift is given and received with two thankful hands in Kenya.  Then I shook hands just like President Sweeney did for me at Emmanuel Christian Seminary graduation a few months ago. And then the families put garlands of shiny tinsel around their necks and the paparazzi took phone photos with intensity. And then they sang some more.  They sang in Kipsigis “Thank you Linda, God sent you from America to bring us this Bible”.  (Linda is the missionary whose home we are residing in this year while she is on furlough, and who gives me the honor of hosting the women’s Bible study training in the home too)

It was intense, and it was real.  They were so grateful to receive their own Bible, like you wouldn’t believe.  But we do believe.  We do believe that the Word became flesh and resided among us so that we could receive His Life that is truly Life.  And it is an awesome thing to consider.  So that when terror strikes, I can recite over and over and over again “I know that Jesus has loved me” and that is where my life is.  Even if I’m holed up in my deepest fear of dying in Wal-mart, a senseless death or tragic waste, that Jesus has loved me and given his death defeating Life to me is enough.  I have to remember that.

In truth, my heart and flesh cry out for the safety and comforts of an easy peaceful life.  And he answers back to me that I have already died with Christ and my life is hid with Him.  Is there anything safer or more comforting than those Mighty Outstretched Arms that reached down to rescue me already?

Even if I made my bed in Hell, still there He would find me. (Ps. 139)

So we press on, living by faith and not by fear.