Freedom Found

She waited around long after the service. She waited.

We noticed her as she quietly walked toward the man of God to talk. She talked.

Her story was quick but she left out no details.

A child of the traditional worship of West Africa. Fetish worship, or as we understand it, Voodoo.

It is a worship of the elements. A trust in the curse, a belief in a doctor who can not heal but can curse and hold back curses. Or so they believe. A trust in a Witch Doctor.

Her mother had been converted to Christ and the family objected. The Bible was kept in a solitary place in their mud shanty possibly hidden among the few articles of clothing that she owned.

She came to talk and she did.

The curse had come to the home. Once a good student, school had become difficult, she explained.

Confusion and fear had entered the home.

She came to talk and to ask for prayer against the dark world of West Africa.

Ginny held her hand as we began to pray for protection and to send back the curse from where it came. The twelve year old girl had found herself in the presence of God where the curse was possibly broken and love was replaced.

The last to go, the last to leave. She waited, she talked, we prayed.

Please pray for the innocence lost in a generation turned over to the religions of tradition. “Greater is He...we know the scripture, but they need the He in them.”

Burkina Faso, July 2010

"My eyes have seen it all."

The tree to which we sat under was magnificent. It's roots ascended from the ground and then almost violently pressed their way back down in to the hard earth below. They had a job to do. They stretched their fingers deep into the recesses of the ground for life. They looked for the waters to soothe their parched branches.

Under it's canopy we sat with new friends that we had not known before today.

The first to offer a chair was one of the elders of the village. He wore no shirt and his trousers were torn, but his eyes held the riches of past memories. I was captured by his glance.

"What had he seen in his many years?" I asked myself.

These gentle eyes must have cried both tears of joy and tears of pain. These eyes have been blurred from the sands that blow from the north and cleansed from the rains from heaven. These wonderful yet old eyes have seen it all.

They had seen every emotion that his dear wife had experienced, for example, the birth of the son. The one who drove us to meet him that wonderful day. They have looked to the skies and prayed for the rains in the times of drought. Oh, what have these eyes seen?

How many tears have they cried? How many memories have they captured?

Though appearing cloudy from the outside they held many things on the inside.

In a village far from town there is a tree so magnificent and grand, who's roots reach deep into the earth. Sitting under the protection of this tree is an elder of a village, a man of wisdom, who's eyes have seen it all.

She chose just to look in

It was like most every Sunday.

Temperature sitting proudly at 105 degrees.

The drums were playing in rhythm.

People were dancing and singing praises.

She chose just to look inside.

I caught the sunlight as it danced across her face.

Innocence captured for a moment in time.

Was it the music that called her to the window?

The car that sat is an area that seldom saw cars?

News that a missionary had come that day?

Most assuredly it was the call of the Master.

A kind, loving and calling God.

He had called her to the window that morning.

She chose just to look in.

He chose just to love her.

Little Man on the Bench

He sat on the bench most of the service not moving an inch. I think he was trying not to be noticed. With my camera in hand I slowly approached him. He did not stir as I clicked away trying to capture his innocence. Quiet as a mouse he sat not speaking or giving any facial expressions. What a picture of the wonder of a child. Thank you Little Man

Siberi's Heart

Ouagadougou June 10,2010

Siberiʼs Heart

It was a day like most days in Burkina Faso, the temperature had reached itʼs peak.

Quite possibly 103 degrees. In our room I had just gotten cleaned up, that is washing the sweat from my brow, when a knock at the door.

“Pastor Siberi is here sir.” the man said. I walked outside to greet our Assistant

Superintendent. He is an elderly man for Africa, most likely in his late 50ʼs. Thin around the belt with specks of grey in his hair. He greeted me in typical African style, first a

hand shake and then an embrace.

It was not clear why he had come to visit. I believe it was just to see where we were

staying. We talked about my vision for Burkina Faso and how the North American

churches had prayed on a map of Burkina Faso as we deputized. We talked about

beginning Bible school classes and I showed him pictures of our children and grandson

in the states.

It was a time of connecting our hearts together for one purpose. To see Burkina Faso,

West Africa bring in a great harvest of souls.

He carried a worn leather sack with him. At the time the contents were unknown. Maybe

it was full of important documents, possibly official church papers. In my case my bag

contains my laptop, a calculator, money, pass ports and such.

His worn hands reached down for the bag as I awaited to see the secrets it contained.

Within the worn leather sack contained several stacks of paper. More important than a

laptop, more important than official church papers, more important than pictures of

family and friends. Contained within the sack were invitations and teaching on salvation.

Some written in French and some written in Moore (more-ray) language. The bag must

have contained over 60 or so tracks that he had been given out.

This great pastor had one objective that day; to evangelize his city.

After an hour or so of us communicating in my broken French, he exclaimed that it was

time to go.

We finished our drink and I began to walk him to the gate. “Where was his moto

(motor- cycle)? Did he take a taxi here? I know he lives at least 4 miles from here.” I

asked myself. He walked to a bicycle that was most likely 20 years old. This pastor had

spent his day traveling to greet me and evangelizing his city along the way.

Emotions filled my thoughts; “Would I be able to evangelize my city with just a few

tracks in hand riding a bicycle, or would I find yet another excuse to live another day not

making a difference?”

This day I found the heart of a man, a man who is serving Christ while living the Great

Commission. Matt 28:19 He rode off on a bicycle. I was changed.

Were going back

Friends and Family,

It is with great joy that we have received the "OK" to return to West Africa. After meeting the Foreign Missions Board they have appointed us to Burkina Faso as Full Time Missionaries. Niger and Mali are both under our care.

Please pray for us as we travel the USA raising support. We will begin Jan. 2nd 2009 and have a schedule through August. Hopefully we will return to West Africa in Spring of 2010.

You can view our page at http://www.upci.org/ under the Foreign Missions Section / Missionary Search.

Ken and Gin

The Wall in Kuma Adamé

Walls have never been something that I would give a good recommendation to. Walls seperate, they divide and they simply and silently scream, "KEEP OUT"! Walls do have some benefits like keeping intruders out and the family dog in.

I recently traveled to a remote village near the town of Kpalimé. It is nestled in the mountains where the air is cooler and the villagers are true villagers. There was something inside of me that was needing to get alone for some time with God. So with a supply of water, and my backpack I headed to the village for 5 days of mental shutdown.

Being an avid hiker the feel of the mountains gives me the John Denver "Sunshine on my shoulders" kind of happiness. You know the kind of feeling that you get while hiking the Rocky Mountains in Colorado. Memories of my good friend Brad Gilliland made me long for home. Brad and I hiked all over Rocky Mountain Natl Park a few years back. He is a good mountain buddy!

I treked all over the village mountain range discovering all types of people and food. In the pictures you will see a couple of school kids that I met on the path.

I could not help to think of the thousands of children in Uganda who ran on paths such as I walked hiding from the rebels who hunted them down during the bloody war a few years back.

Back to the wall, every afternoon and evening a knock would come to my door. It was the neighbors bringing me some lunch or dinner. The first night it came at 8 pm. There is no electricity in the village; so with a candle I was trying to make out what lurked in the pot. It appeared to be a corn mush and some ground nut sauce. To this day I do not know what meat dwelt in that dish. Possibly goat or bush rat.

Day 2 came and again another meal. This time some rice with red sauce, again undescribable meat.

Walls are desgined to keep thing out or to keep things in. My wall was different. Every night when the villagers would go to sleep I would sneak to the wall and shuck the food over into the African darkness.

You ask, "Did you eat any of it?" my answer, "Yes, I did."

Did I get sick? Well lets say I have spent the last 5 days drinking lots of water, and eating light. The bathroom has replaced the security of the wall.

So if you are ever in a village, do not drink the water, keep away from meat that is unrecongnizable and live within the confines of a wall.