February 23, 2008
Now we head back to the United States. Right now we are on a bus to Accra to stop at the hotel before we leave on our flight. Last night was pretty wild. We took Maamaye to the hospital for chest x-rays. We weren’t sure if we would have to stay longer or not. Dennis stayed back with Maamaye, Vida and Rita at the hospital while the rest of us headed back to the hotel. Jeff, Ciarra, a Muslim guard and I all prayed in my room that night for Maamaye. Our new Muslim friend did the prayer for us and his words were beautiful. Around 11:30, they came back and told us that Maamaye had bronchitis and she would be fine, she just needed some medication. Looks like our friend’s prayer worked, Allah Akbar. We were relieved until around 12:30, when Katherine started throwing up. Fortunately Ciarra was there to help her and she immediately went to get Dennis so he could help. Dennis got her on meds so she was fine, just a little groggy. Then early this morning, when Ciarra was doing wake up calls, she found that Myra was feeling ill too and had been throwing up. Through out this early morning drama we were all worried about getting everybody home. Fortunately for us, God is still at work and for the moment it seems as though we will all make it home in one piece. Now we just have to pray that God will protect us as He always has. I was going to end there… however, as it turns out our flight is canceled for the next 36 hours… sweet right? Well, I guess here’s to sitting back for a day, hopefully rest is in our future and a safe travel home. I think I’m going to go grab a Coke now and chat up a little theology with the pastor. Sabbath, Amen.
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Friday, February 22, 2008
Holy Communion
February 22, 2008
We missed our opportunity to visit the King Jesus Orphanage yesterday, so we decided to say goodbye to the kids this morning. We had also decided that we would drop off our food supplies we had bought for them yesterday. I got to see my friend again; his name is still unknown to me but seeing his smile makes up for that. These children are stuck in a system that will probably never give them their full potential. The government here makes it very expensive and difficult to adopt one of these children, but if someone has a strong enough calling and enough determination, it is possible. I wish there was more that I could do right now for these kids, maybe someday I can do for them what they have already done for me. As we left the orphanage, I felt like crying but I held back and settled for some good hugs instead. As our bus pulled away I expressed the only words I knew how, to my friend I signed, I love you, Jesus loves you. I do not know what else I can say, my heart goes out, my eyes cry, and my soul longs to help, but the bus still pulls away.
Our next stop was back to the Cultural Center to stock up on Penny Project goods and finish our gift shopping. Afterwards we had some time at the hotel before dinner, only to find out that dinner wasn’t exactly ordered yet, so we would have to do dinner later than planned. Fortunately, Mrs. Gisila arrived at around 5 o’clock. Chatting with her gave some great insight into the SPANKO project and where it’s heading. She said that they have now started a German chapter (Gisila is a German native), and that people from all over were starting to get involved. The children in Ghana will benefit greatly. This relieved me as it seemed clear that this was a partnership we would love to continue. After dinner we parted ways with Gisila and we were headed to Rev. Twum’s church for some cultural dancing and a send off. The dancing was amazing, especially considering it was all performed by the youth of the church. They even had a skit on HIV/AIDS in Africa. Some of the people were laughing when, in one act, one of the men was expressing clear ignorance of the disease and did not want to touch the hand of his daughter. I may have laughed too, if I didn’t know how real that was. The First United Women had told stories very similar to the one being acted out. It’s real.
After the performance we went to the Twum’s parsonage. There, waiting, was a vision of Christ’s communion. We shared our love for one another and we gave gifts and drank orange Fanta. We expressed our gratitude and thanks for all of their work and partnership and they thanked us for coming into their lives. The communion table was set. It was a coffee table in a crowded living room. The members were from continents separated by a vast ocean, a people separated by language and color. As we held hands and prayed together, Christ was among us. The bread was our gifts, our thanks and our hearts for one another, and the wine was orange Fanta. God had never set a more perfect table. The vision for the future, for the world and for heaven can be seen expressed everyday here. I only hope that as we depart from our friends and loved ones here that we do justice to their stories and God’s story. This is what communion looks like, this is sacred, this is Holy.
We missed our opportunity to visit the King Jesus Orphanage yesterday, so we decided to say goodbye to the kids this morning. We had also decided that we would drop off our food supplies we had bought for them yesterday. I got to see my friend again; his name is still unknown to me but seeing his smile makes up for that. These children are stuck in a system that will probably never give them their full potential. The government here makes it very expensive and difficult to adopt one of these children, but if someone has a strong enough calling and enough determination, it is possible. I wish there was more that I could do right now for these kids, maybe someday I can do for them what they have already done for me. As we left the orphanage, I felt like crying but I held back and settled for some good hugs instead. As our bus pulled away I expressed the only words I knew how, to my friend I signed, I love you, Jesus loves you. I do not know what else I can say, my heart goes out, my eyes cry, and my soul longs to help, but the bus still pulls away.
Our next stop was back to the Cultural Center to stock up on Penny Project goods and finish our gift shopping. Afterwards we had some time at the hotel before dinner, only to find out that dinner wasn’t exactly ordered yet, so we would have to do dinner later than planned. Fortunately, Mrs. Gisila arrived at around 5 o’clock. Chatting with her gave some great insight into the SPANKO project and where it’s heading. She said that they have now started a German chapter (Gisila is a German native), and that people from all over were starting to get involved. The children in Ghana will benefit greatly. This relieved me as it seemed clear that this was a partnership we would love to continue. After dinner we parted ways with Gisila and we were headed to Rev. Twum’s church for some cultural dancing and a send off. The dancing was amazing, especially considering it was all performed by the youth of the church. They even had a skit on HIV/AIDS in Africa. Some of the people were laughing when, in one act, one of the men was expressing clear ignorance of the disease and did not want to touch the hand of his daughter. I may have laughed too, if I didn’t know how real that was. The First United Women had told stories very similar to the one being acted out. It’s real.
After the performance we went to the Twum’s parsonage. There, waiting, was a vision of Christ’s communion. We shared our love for one another and we gave gifts and drank orange Fanta. We expressed our gratitude and thanks for all of their work and partnership and they thanked us for coming into their lives. The communion table was set. It was a coffee table in a crowded living room. The members were from continents separated by a vast ocean, a people separated by language and color. As we held hands and prayed together, Christ was among us. The bread was our gifts, our thanks and our hearts for one another, and the wine was orange Fanta. God had never set a more perfect table. The vision for the future, for the world and for heaven can be seen expressed everyday here. I only hope that as we depart from our friends and loved ones here that we do justice to their stories and God’s story. This is what communion looks like, this is sacred, this is Holy.
Thursday, February 21, 2008
Christ's Banquet
February 21, 2008
There is a line drawn in mission work. There is a fundamental problem when it comes to handling field work and appropriating funds. We visited an up and coming SPANKO orphanage being overseen by a fellow Michigander and a member of our church. Mike is a Michigan State grad, in his mid twenties. He has taken 5 kids in the area under his wing, all teenagers and has dedicated himself to being their father. He has a big heart and big ideas. I was in awe when he took us on a tour of his new orphanage he was overseeing. From an American’s eyes the buildings are phenomenal, the education system sounds great and everything seems to be heading in the right direction. But as we listened to Mike tell us of his plans, I could hear two of our Ghanaian friends talk of how the classrooms were too big, his ideas of bringing in washing machines to eliminate the need for the more traditional washing day were too American. I can sympathize both ways. From Mike’s perspective, Ghana’s education system is broken, the children are often under or not educated, women have far less opportunity than men and parents are often ignorant of the value of learning. Maybe Mike is right, maybe what the system needs is a radical transformation, a new breath of life. On the other hand, I can understand how tradition is important, how often Americans seek to inject their values and beliefs on societies unlike their own and how stupid white men must seem. The problem is that there is no right answer. We have to trust that God will use us in all of our endeavors and we must always pray that He gives us the clarity to discern what is of God and what is of us.
After visiting Mike we traveled to the Mmofroturo girls school once more to say goodbye and to present them with a brand new laptop, printer, ink, paper, and to commit to their library. When Jeff was expressing how much we appreciated their mission and goals, he invited Kevin up to take the mic for a little interview. The girls loved it, as Jeff said “Kevin’s a rock star.” After our meal with the head of the school we were taken on a tour of the entire complex so we could get a better sense of what they needed. They took us to the grade school so we could see the younger kids in class and meet them. When we were walking in between classrooms, there was a man outside selling newspapers, of which the headline read: “Bush Bull Shits,” referring to his visit to Ghana this week and his tour of West Africa. We all got a kick out of that. Once we had met all of the grade school students, the men and women separated and the guys got to play a little with the preschoolers who are in need of better classrooms, one’s that they can have for themselves. They are all very cute and they found Jeff and Dennis to be very funny. While Jeff, Dennis and I were playing with the little girls, Kevin was being mobbed outside for his number, address and pictures with the girls. As soon as we stepped outside we were all mobbed too. Pictures seem to fascinate people here, they love getting their picture taken, even if they can’t keep it. As the guys were heading back to our bus to leave we ran into a wall of girls, all in their colorful dresses. Boat turned to me and asked me if I had seen the “new” students. I had no clue what he was talking about so he showed me. Ciarra and Katherine had been fitted and had each been given one of the school dresses!
When we left the school I was feeling the presence of God in that place. The school is one of the projects that makes me proud to be a Methodist, a school that encourages women to take on a bigger role, educate themselves and express their individuality through their dresses. We traveled on to another market, but this time there was an actual grocery store. I stocked up on some Ghanaian chocolate. We hit the road again, but back to the hotel. We had a few hours to relax, but we were all very anxious. Tonight was a night to party, a night to celebrate. God was here, Christ was walking among us and we were going to celebrate as Christ commanded. Tonight the First United Women came to have a night of dinner and dancing. They came to deliver the clothing we had ordered and to celebrate our partnership and friendship. When they arrived the music was blaring (as usual in Ghana), games of Owari were being played, and dinner was served. That dinner was probably the best one yet. It felt so good to eat amongst friends here. The women brought extra fabric with them and set up a stand on the edge of our party. There were actually guests at the hotel coming out to check out the celebration and ended up purchasing some of the fabric. One of the women came up to me and asked me to dance, so we did. Even the hotel staff were celebrating and dancing with us. Mike showed up with his kids and we talked about the difficulties of working in Ghana for hours.
When the night was done Jeff wandered back into our room and he had a story to tell me. He told me that he had a talk with some of our friends who were on staff at the hotel. He said that they asked him what the purpose was of this party tonight, who the women were. They had said they had had a lot of fun dancing with the women and they thought they had made some friends. Jeff figured, why not. So he told them who they were, why there were there and what we were about. Jeff said he had never seen people loose their color so quickly before. Their response seemed like a mixture of anger, confusion and worry. The stigma here is real. He reminded me of the parable Jesus tells of heaven being like a party; a party where none of the guests you invited show up, they are all too busy. So instead you invite those on the street, the people who never get invited. Tonight we were in heaven. Jeff told the staff that they had just been to heaven, they looked at him like he was crazy. But it was real. This is the vision Christ had for the world. Heaven is real. I’ve seen it, I’ve danced with the uninvited, I’ve shared songs and stories, held hands and hugged. I’ve met God and I will trade this experience for nothing this world has to offer.
There is a line drawn in mission work. There is a fundamental problem when it comes to handling field work and appropriating funds. We visited an up and coming SPANKO orphanage being overseen by a fellow Michigander and a member of our church. Mike is a Michigan State grad, in his mid twenties. He has taken 5 kids in the area under his wing, all teenagers and has dedicated himself to being their father. He has a big heart and big ideas. I was in awe when he took us on a tour of his new orphanage he was overseeing. From an American’s eyes the buildings are phenomenal, the education system sounds great and everything seems to be heading in the right direction. But as we listened to Mike tell us of his plans, I could hear two of our Ghanaian friends talk of how the classrooms were too big, his ideas of bringing in washing machines to eliminate the need for the more traditional washing day were too American. I can sympathize both ways. From Mike’s perspective, Ghana’s education system is broken, the children are often under or not educated, women have far less opportunity than men and parents are often ignorant of the value of learning. Maybe Mike is right, maybe what the system needs is a radical transformation, a new breath of life. On the other hand, I can understand how tradition is important, how often Americans seek to inject their values and beliefs on societies unlike their own and how stupid white men must seem. The problem is that there is no right answer. We have to trust that God will use us in all of our endeavors and we must always pray that He gives us the clarity to discern what is of God and what is of us.
After visiting Mike we traveled to the Mmofroturo girls school once more to say goodbye and to present them with a brand new laptop, printer, ink, paper, and to commit to their library. When Jeff was expressing how much we appreciated their mission and goals, he invited Kevin up to take the mic for a little interview. The girls loved it, as Jeff said “Kevin’s a rock star.” After our meal with the head of the school we were taken on a tour of the entire complex so we could get a better sense of what they needed. They took us to the grade school so we could see the younger kids in class and meet them. When we were walking in between classrooms, there was a man outside selling newspapers, of which the headline read: “Bush Bull Shits,” referring to his visit to Ghana this week and his tour of West Africa. We all got a kick out of that. Once we had met all of the grade school students, the men and women separated and the guys got to play a little with the preschoolers who are in need of better classrooms, one’s that they can have for themselves. They are all very cute and they found Jeff and Dennis to be very funny. While Jeff, Dennis and I were playing with the little girls, Kevin was being mobbed outside for his number, address and pictures with the girls. As soon as we stepped outside we were all mobbed too. Pictures seem to fascinate people here, they love getting their picture taken, even if they can’t keep it. As the guys were heading back to our bus to leave we ran into a wall of girls, all in their colorful dresses. Boat turned to me and asked me if I had seen the “new” students. I had no clue what he was talking about so he showed me. Ciarra and Katherine had been fitted and had each been given one of the school dresses!
When we left the school I was feeling the presence of God in that place. The school is one of the projects that makes me proud to be a Methodist, a school that encourages women to take on a bigger role, educate themselves and express their individuality through their dresses. We traveled on to another market, but this time there was an actual grocery store. I stocked up on some Ghanaian chocolate. We hit the road again, but back to the hotel. We had a few hours to relax, but we were all very anxious. Tonight was a night to party, a night to celebrate. God was here, Christ was walking among us and we were going to celebrate as Christ commanded. Tonight the First United Women came to have a night of dinner and dancing. They came to deliver the clothing we had ordered and to celebrate our partnership and friendship. When they arrived the music was blaring (as usual in Ghana), games of Owari were being played, and dinner was served. That dinner was probably the best one yet. It felt so good to eat amongst friends here. The women brought extra fabric with them and set up a stand on the edge of our party. There were actually guests at the hotel coming out to check out the celebration and ended up purchasing some of the fabric. One of the women came up to me and asked me to dance, so we did. Even the hotel staff were celebrating and dancing with us. Mike showed up with his kids and we talked about the difficulties of working in Ghana for hours.
When the night was done Jeff wandered back into our room and he had a story to tell me. He told me that he had a talk with some of our friends who were on staff at the hotel. He said that they asked him what the purpose was of this party tonight, who the women were. They had said they had had a lot of fun dancing with the women and they thought they had made some friends. Jeff figured, why not. So he told them who they were, why there were there and what we were about. Jeff said he had never seen people loose their color so quickly before. Their response seemed like a mixture of anger, confusion and worry. The stigma here is real. He reminded me of the parable Jesus tells of heaven being like a party; a party where none of the guests you invited show up, they are all too busy. So instead you invite those on the street, the people who never get invited. Tonight we were in heaven. Jeff told the staff that they had just been to heaven, they looked at him like he was crazy. But it was real. This is the vision Christ had for the world. Heaven is real. I’ve seen it, I’ve danced with the uninvited, I’ve shared songs and stories, held hands and hugged. I’ve met God and I will trade this experience for nothing this world has to offer.
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