Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         October 23rd, 2023

We drove to the border and then on into Kenya, Maili Tisa{nine mile}.  This for Visa compliance once again.  There we turned north into the bush and overnighted at a facility before returning to brave the border and come back south.

This brief overnight was unwanted expense yet, awesome.  This one night was a return.  Last time, at this facility, I stayed up late as Hilda rested helping the staff find and repair water and power issues. 

They were sincerely glad to see us again.  We hadn’t given up on them and came back in spite of the problems on our first visit.  Perhaps that is part of why we were approached late in the afternoon on the balcony by someone who was not in our plans.

The owner of the facility is now another of that growing body of people whom we are protective of.

Protective of even as that protection is not needed.  The owner is beyond mandatory retirement age for Kenya yet is kept continuously contract bound to serve his nation.  As he is not black, but a very light brown Muslim, he will never ascend to the highest positions he is responsible to.  For this he is openly thankful, fearing for his soul should he ascend to the top.  Wise man. 

His facility for visitors is kept behind a fence so other government officials cannot simply enter and help themselves to its contents and services.  We get to enter. 

We spent the late afternoon, supper, and into the late evening with a soon to be grandfather who still calls his mother three times a week.  This done by this military man responsible for many things.  One of his joyful responsibilities is directing and participating in Game Warden duties.  Two days after we left, I got a video and pictures of successful giraffe tagging operations as part of confronting cross border poaching.  Cool..

This Game warden who does many other things built this facility with recovered and up-cycled discards, cast-offs, and it is beautiful.  It will fool you at first look into believing it is a much older facility that is in a process of slow renewal, but that is a consequence of the materials found and used in its construction.

The region is in the twelfth year of a drought and so this game warden finds ways of feeding the local wildlife.  Hilda fed, out of her hand, a young male giraffe.  There are Eland, Ostrich, and many other animals and birds.  Without internet except for near the pool and common house, the sounds of nature throughout the day are healing to this old farmer and logger. 

This Islamic game warden has been married for 35 years.  He is married to a Catholic Maasai woman who sounds like a dynamo equal to her spouse.  Because of this union, this Islamic game warden is an elder of the Maasai in that region and includes in his long list of duties conflict resolution for the tribe.

I do not know why God takes moments, I do not seek, and makes them immeasurably valuable.  Again it is people.  God makes moments but not for moments sake.  God makes moments for life and people.  I did not expect a five hour conversation with anyone, we went to satisfy Visa compliance by having our passports stamped out of country then back in, my fingerprints taken at the border each way and each time.

We were able to listen to an exceptional insider, who is also an outsider to the various cultures, he lives within the tension of, in the in-between.  He is the last of his generation still in Africa, so likely could legally afford to follow his parents and siblings elsewhere, but chooses to stay where he can make a difference in the wild places and supporting the service among the people of those places he loves.  I understand that.  A secular Muslim and a Maasai Catholic doing much of the work of missionaries to support and improve human lives without knowing all the scriptural basis.  Cool..

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The Sunday after the trip north I preached in Kilinga again, a little further up the mountain, at 7:AM.  We waved at the Pentecostal Church on the way by as our Swahili teacher worships there.  She thinks it is cool that we preach among her people at the Lutheran church.  She has been studying my messages as part of our education and has never found fault with the challenges offered therein.   

Yes, Hilda preached too.  I leave them quiet and pondering.  Hilda they just adore, she can’t stand still and doesn’t.  She makes Mchungaji chase her around, so he can hear to translate, as she gets all her ‘students’ engaged by beaming love over everyone.

Yesterday was attending English service at 7:am, preaching only with the TST Mama’s, messages delivered to the children at Makumira Secondary, then we took a teen to boarding school way over on the west side of Arusha. 

On that trip we also took a young Italian woman, fluent in Swahili from studies at University in Naples.  And we took that precious mother to her sister’s children and grandchildren.  We then attended a Catholic Confirmation for a bitty little princess and her friend.  Huge deal here.  I was asked to use the truck to transport both children, inside the cab, and videographers filming from outside in the bed.

I was told I was to follow someone.  Then the tired mother of a confirmand got in the passenger seat and directed me to lead.  She directing to where she did not know and me taking direction in tired Swahili being spoken through her nose that I still don’t really know. 

How tired was she?  She was so tired that someone had to close the passenger door for her after she sat down in the truck each time.  That event lasted hours into the night. 

As the event was drawing to a close that tired Mama was energized by the music, dancing and celebration to the point of her and her husband coming to beam on Hilda and I with sincere gratitude.  

Gratitude for hauling 15 children, little princesses, in the back seat of the stupid little truck and letting videographers document from the bed while wandering dusty streets aimlessly going in circles looking for places we did eventually find.  Hilda and the ladies waited at the celebration venue while I wandered with children and videographers driving to directions mostly non-verbal and completely comical.  

I never seem to get video evidence but Hilda danced with all the African ladies like the world was on fire.  One Bibi coming to the table and making Simba dance with her too between joyful bouts with Mama Simba, Hilda. 

We got the two ladies we traveled with home, parked the truck at the church, and then walked home from there ourselves.  We did not get stopped until after midnight.

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Hilda is planning to take on two swimming students.  One of those students is looking for places to affordably have pool access.  These are adult students.  One is our Swahili teacher.

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Huge expenses again surrounding the school for Vern thing with last minute hurdles out of nowhere.  Thanks to Pastors here who really believe in who we are and Pastor Erik in Washington State who is also likewise supportive, hopes of clearing those hurdles have appeared.  We’ll see.  We are at work without the training.    

Hilda and I spent a few hours today around working those school for Vern issues with a German Pastor wanting to attend the same University also.  She was heartbroken at how she has been treated. 

Some of this is due to our developed world presumption that every type of communication is valued and equal.  That is not the case here where access to internet, phone service, e-mail, etc, is not common. 

Often only face to face communication works.  Now, good luck finding the faces.. 

I think of the Temple authorities as recorded in scripture.  I really do.   I’m sure that does not win any friends.  I hope it challenges a spiritual sibling or two. 

Two years after being told, while going through candidacy during COVID, that I was too stubborn to be accompanied in candidacy for listening to the call to come here, I learned that the candidacy committee did not think I would ever serve in a North American Congregation.  Because of that narrowness, their way or the highway, it may have become a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

Hilda and I still hope there is a small church somewhere in America desperate enough to let us live near the front door.  I hope it is in a blessed community with businesses running shifts.  We hope to have services either before or after shift changes, perhaps both, so we can be used to make some students among folks running as hard as they can. 

We hope there may be a church in farm country or along a trucking route so I can have coffee with folks sick of being lectured to by meta-thinkers with manicured hands that have never been broken by anything.  Not fair, I know, but needs are real as people.  Those needs are opportunities.  Like funerals are.  Like weddings are.  Like hunger is. 

Not all people who need God’s constant love can afford men’s and women’s retreats and special training programs or seeming adult play dates, entertainment as faith community.  They can’t afford my training.

Perhaps I shouldn’t buy that expensive and expected training that excludes the willing but come to trust my lifetime of suffering and miracles.  Both proof of God being with us and wanting us, forever.

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Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

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What to Pray for:

Our armed forces families, our leadership, our people, whole world round, all of Gods kids -

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

For Makumira Secondary School looking to share stories and partner in some way with a foreign school, Great leaders, teachers, students, programs, strong backs, minds, and hearts –

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us –

For those who have braved the donate button to discover Kajun Crofton, our daughter who helps getting each one of your donations to us and every blogpost to where you can read it -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers, your precious conversations with God –

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music

 Dear Cherished Interested’s,                                                                                         October 9th, 2023

I have been led to write more about lies in the messages for Sunday.  No, I still write mostly about Jesus and God’s constant love, yet, there is really a lot in scripture about lying.  I am told something by someone and I believe it to be truthful so I make plans and commitments based upon what I thought was truth.  When what I was told was not truthful but a lie, then I too am a liar when what I had promised based upon what I was told cannot occur as I had said it would.

Desperation makes people of poverty say anything.  That leaves them impoverished and enslaved.  That leaves their culture also impoverished and enslaved to lies that waste each others time and efforts.  But, it is in fact a human problem because I know that the greatest liars I have faced are the most educated, most influential, who come with the biggest bank. 

Once lost a business because a very wealthy Christian family chose not to pay for their new houseful of custom cabinets artfully fabricated for each individual space in that large and beautiful home, made far lovelier, by the cabinetry lovingly made for them by a neighbor and myself.  We did this with reclaimed cast off logging slash pile debris carefully milled, dried, and curated into efficient and warm use of space within that home. 

An earlier job loss came when the son of the owner of two businesses that were operationally my significant managerial responsibility chose to assault me in my office and then .. lie about it.  The presence of financial resources can shield folks from the consequences of their lies but the lies remain.  Lies destroy trust.  The wealthy often think that enough money can buy that trust back. 

There is much I have to think about now that was not my problem living near the economic bottom in North America.  Here, we are in the 1 percent.  What and how do I teach through the use of resources?  Resources that are not present in nearly all the lives around us.

The casual use of falsehood to control others time and efforts and calling it being kind to their feelings is part of the desperation of impoverishment but is also an excuse used by the wealthy everywhere to avoid facing themselves.  We have struggled together for too many years not to care about these things. 

On the farm with living things my moment by moment responsibility lying was inconceivable.  Either the animals are fed or they get sick and die.  Either the animals are milked or they get sick and die.  If the animals are dead there are no resources at all for the people.  If the crops fail, there are no resources to feed the animals.  Consequences taught by survivors of consequences kept the youngest me on my toes and focused on truth. 

That is why we have consequences isn’t it.  So consequences can steer us towards something better than lies.  So consequences faced and avoided can reward us with truth.  That is a mission statement.  Is it a good one? 

Over and over in Revelations it is communicated that all liars are part of a group going into the lake of burning Sulphur as part of the second death.  That is more prescient than people riding on the roof of our stupid little truck.  That is more prescient than the reckless operation of motor vehicles in general here.  Life is both precious and flouted foolishly in completely non-vicarious ways.  It is not a video game. 

Yet, lies, not foolishness, is part of what makes death permanent for people God lovingly creates. 

I want God’s heart on these matters.  I get lied to so casually and I hate it.  Where is my grace?  Where is my empathy?  My empathy got lost with that job?  My empathy got lost with that business?  Those are part of the plethora of losses we face in life.  We lose opportunities, places and, if we are alive inside at all we lose people the hardest. 

That is a mission statement too.  To lose people the hardest.  That is starting to touch the heart of God in these matters.  God creates me.  I don’t.  God creates all people.  I don’t.  If my heart is made so as to feel loss and then trained up through a life of losses then..  perhaps, we can understand a little of why Jesus chose to lose his life, instead of losing all of us. 

So, as I face the lies of the malignant, manipulators, and desperate, and those thinking they are kind, and lies come out of my own mouth by intent or the web of this interconnectedness, help me to hold to that Jesus who chose to lose his life, instead of all of us.  Let that love be with me when even my hard won and deep empathy gets lost. 

You hold us together in all the uncomfortable.  Keep me vulnerable as I pack water into the house.  Keep me vulnerable as we wait for power and internet to return.  Keep me vulnerable and not hardened by the tragedies that seem so needless.  I did not make any of God’s people.  Jesus was vulnerable enough to die for them..  me too.

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Yesterday was Cathedral where I was called upon to read scripture three different times during the sermon as given by Mchungaji Daktari Mungure.  Then the Children’s Village for a good Sunday school after being embraced by the other older local Mchungaji who comes for the children whenever he can too.  A wonderful worship with a Mama again standing to read the message for her fellows after singing so beautifully together. 

This particular Mama is an older Mama who looks so much, having a similar spirit to my grandmother when I was at my youngest.  She can run like the wind.  She can run like the wind while holding or grabbing up children nearly half her size.  Her smile is half her size too.   

This Mama, has keenly perfect eyesight and helped me figure out who needed reading glasses last year. 

When she reads a Sunday message, she is intentional about not being in a hurry.  I can read along as she speaks.  She raises her voice as she ends each question.  She pauses briefly at places that can use it.  She cares about scripture and not just being impossibly busy all the time. 

Again, my brain remains steadfast against comprehension even as I can read, hear, and speak the words.  Listen, see and appreciate the music of the language in its usage without knowing a thing.

Later in the day we were again at Makumira Secondary where we are currently avoiding entry into the school grounds as immigration has put a huge fear into the community about foreign nationals. 

Yes, which Visa, and how many resources will it take to get what this official, or that official, insists is official, until next time.  Christian schools do not have many of the protections afforded in the U.S.A.  Headmaster was heading to court early last week to deal with matters important to the government from 2008, long before he was headmaster, that involve a foreign national as student of the school at that time.  The government wants its way as resources are scarce, and some officials may be hungry. 

Perhaps some of the hard talk of lies has been in my face for a while.  People will show themselves in time.  Pray please that we have that time and the patience to watch what God does with our messes. 

Oh, the young ones at Makumira Secondary who want us there?  Hilda takes the Sunday message to the gate.  Adult in charge inside sends for a young one so the messages can still get to the young ones.  Then the adult gets busy with something so two or three of the young ones can come bubbling out of the gate and hang on the truck to talk with me still wearing my seatbelt. 

Yes, this is humbling.  This is amazing.  This is because of prayer.  I have written a lot of things.  I could not write any of this if it did not happen in front of me.  Thank you for your time and effort in keeping us in the thick of blessings.

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It is weird.  I learned early to work impossibly hard and by myself on the farm when I was very young.  I am surprised to find that the energy I was given then comes to me now not when I am alone and working but when I am obedient and working.  Working with, serving people as a lifelong introvert and finding energy in the obedience.  That has to be your prayer too.

Jesus changes the nature of fish who seek the bottom of the lake in the heat of the day to instead rise to the surface to be caught.  Jesus changes the nature of Simon the fisherman into Peter the Apostle and servant of people.  Jesus changes us too.  Just spend some time with him.  You give this time to us by your exercising hearts in conversation on our behalf.  You make this happen.

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Discipline is also true.  Loss of opportunity to be obedient I feel bodily in that it ages me decades in a second.  The Spirit in me weeping when a lie is revealed; even The Spirit seeming to long for death at the lost obedience.  Still being worked and shaped.  

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Patience for what comes with University.  When the lies, deflections and questions seem to come to an end.  You will be the first to know.  Don’t for a moment think that our university structure isn’t riddled with the same.  Of my four biological children there are only two associate degrees and one bachelors. 

They could not stomach the gaming and manipulating now part of what challenged this father to come here and try.

Please pray also for the church.  The higher bureaucratic church whose personages of power are missing so very much beautiful by leaving us unaccompanied. 

Please pray also in thankfulness with us that we are free of any expectations and demands of that accompaniment as well.  God’s will is so much better, always!

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Yes please …

Relationships here on the ground in addition to my imperfections and mistakes are being used to try to drive us away from our striving.  Each day is a sincere struggle.  Hopefully that means we’re on the right track.  Please pray for those around us.  Please pray for the local faces which fearlessly now smile and greet us as we walk.  

Please keep crumpling us up and throwing us at God.  That is where we need to be.  God will sort us out.

One day at a time.  Just like how you each live.  Just one day at a time. 

Thank you, each of you.

              -------------------------------------------------------

What to Pray for:

Our armed forces families, our leadership, our people, whole world round, all of Gods kids -

All the tough and blessing expressed above –

The love of folks –

Whatever is on your hearts and minds for us –

For our children and grand-children who miss us.. 

For Makumira Secondary School looking to share stories and partner in some way with a foreign school, Great leaders, teachers, students, programs, strong backs, minds, and hearts –

For our health to stay ahead of whatever is before us –

For those who have braved the donate button to discover Kajun Crofton, our daughter who helps getting each one of your donations to us and every blogpost to where you can read it -

For each and every one of you –

Each and every one of your prayers, your precious conversations with God –

Prayers, Your Prayer, Even your groaning prayers makes all the difference..

Vern W

May life be as Music to your Heart – May Music be as Heart to your Life – May Heart be as Life to your Music