Emptiness

We live in a world of accumulation and at times I find myself evaluating the things that I hold in my hands. The old cliche demands the question, “Is the cup half empty or half full?”, does not exactly pertain to my writing this evening.

I say, “Lord, empty me. Pour me out. Take from me that which keeps me from you. Empty me completely of me.”

Walking through a village east of Ouagadougou arrested my thoughts. The huts were basic, no running water, no electricity, no furniture, no beds. I was invited inside to find just a few mud buildings and mats on the floor for sleeping. There appeared to be just the bare essentials for life.

It was empty. It was void of any western amities. The villagers had never heard of a microwave or internet. They did not know what it was like to take a hot shower, or to have clothes that smelled like fabric softener. It had never occurred to them that there were cruise ships that could carry you to far away islands, where food was unending and ports were full of trinkets to buy.

This village had not experienced fullness.

It was empty. The difference between that village and me was that I am full. I am full of culture, full of vain ideas, full of self, yes full of me.

“Lord, take me to a place of emptiness. Not void of your Spirit, just void of myself.”

We live in a world of accumulation. We constantly are adding ideas, plans, programs, self promotion and even self affirmation.

Walk among an empty village.

Hear the sounds of children singing.

Smell the cut of fresh corn.

Sit with the Chief of the village.

Breath in every feeling. Experience emptiness.

How is your cup? Is it half empty of half full?

Three men sitting on a bench.

Three men sitting on a bench.

Two are muslim.

One a Christian.

One is blind.

One is a leper.

One is well.

All are in need of a savior.

Darkness

They came from all over the city, all twelve to fifteen of them. Feeling their way down the crowded streets of red clay. Every step was taken with extreme care. Every turn made with the memory of times past.

They came looking for something. They came looking for something that would satisfy more than the emotions of the mind or the strength of the body. They came looking for a savior.

And came they did. When we arrived they sat quietly eating some rice mixed with a sauce of some sort. I made my rounds, gently touching them on the hand or the shoulder to let them know that I was near.

One man stood and told their story, he began:

“We consider it a great honor to be with you today. You can see us, but we can not see you. We are productive people, we work with our hands and are not on the streets begging for money. This church has been very good to us. This Pastor has a great vision for this city. We are very thankful for this church and pray that their endeavors would be successful.”

My body pressed back against the chair as he spoke. How can a blind man speak of vision when he cannot see? What is it in his heart that I lack? He felt his way down the streets of Bobo that day to tell me a story from his heart. Was it the courage to press past the limitations of living in darkness and walking in light? Maybe it was overcoming the churning in his stomach when he laid down to sleep. It was not clear, but he held a gift that I have not yet received.

He stood and he prayed for me. Yes, for me, the young missionary with no handicaps, a picture of health, no cares in the world. This sixty year old blind man prayed for me.

They came from all over the city, all twelve to fifteen of them. Feeling their way down the crowded streets of red clay. Every step was taken with extreme care. Every turn made with the memory of times past.

I have nothing more to say but God help me see not with my eyes, but with my heart.

The Clouds are Heavy Today

The clouds are heavy over our street today. You can see just a small parcel of blue trying to press it’s way through the expanse of gray. No squeals of laughter from the children.

You see, yesterday when the sun had set a cry arose from the depths of the neighborhood. We stood on the terrace and wondered if it was combined prayer of a nearby church. It was not prayer, but the cries of a family who had just learned that the father had just been killed. A muslim man of 35 or so. Typical of West Africa he had at least two wives and many children. Many times the children, mostly babies, would play in tattered clothing in front of our home. As I would leave our home they would sing a song that I taught them. I would sing,” J’ai une bon bon pour vous.” and they would reply, “Avez-vous des bon bon pour moi?” me-(I have a piece of candy for you) them-(Do you have some candy for me?)

This day they did not ask for candy. I sat quietly on the ground in front of the house.

They came and sat beside me. No words were spoken, they would not look up while silent tears fell onto the hard earth.

The clouds are heavy over our street today as well as my heart. Another son left this earth not reconciled to the Father.

We carried over some food as a token of our sympathy for the family. Still, I do not know if it pleased my Father. The bread of life should have been taken over many weeks ago long before the motorcycle left the road. I missed the mark.

Paul said, 2 CORINTHIANS 5:

¹⁸And all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to himself by Jesus Christ, and hath given to us the ministry of reconciliation;

¹⁹To wit, that God was in Christ, reconciling the world unto himself, not imputing their trespasses unto them; and hath committed unto us the word of reconciliation.

²⁰Now then we are ambassadors for Christ, as though God did beseech you by us: we pray you in Christ's stead, be ye reconciled to God.

Tomorrow the clouds will not be so heavy and the sun will break through again, but today is a day of evaluation. Weighing out what is really important, what really matters.

“Oh, God, be a Father to the fatherless today I pray”

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.

Village verses City

A few months ago, I was able to visit a village school. WOW! I really did step back in time of what felt like 100 years. I do thank God for what they do have, but how my heart wanted to scream out for the children to have more. One thing I did notice was how happy the children were. There was lots of laughter and singing of songs pouring out of the cement blocks that had high ventilation holes towards the ceiling and a few windows. I would have to guess that there were at least 60 children pressed in together in a very hot room.



A few days ago, I found out that in our neighborhood, a very nice christian lady has opened a school in her home. It started out as just a daycare/preschool, but in the past four years it has grown from 9 students her first year to over 60 children. She I believe to be 5 teachers and a cook on staff.


She asked that I would pray for the Lord to give her a new establishment because she has out grown her home. She said her vision for this ministry was not as big as what God is making it out to be. Madam Seli is taking it one step at a time and trying to go slow to let the Lord lead.

She has secret she told me, that I want to pass onto you. She said that her secret is to teach these children all about Jesus. It is a private school and some parents pay a small amount and some don't.

If anybody who is reading this blog feels anything to help Seli and her endeavors, she gave me a small list of things she is in need of. I have a friend, Venita that is coming here June 14 to visit, and it maybe possible for her to bring some things. Email for further info, if interested. Most of all Madame Seli has asked for prayer.

Let me say this, from what I saw, I believe in what she is doing. Madame Seli is very educated and actually lived in Manhattan, KS for 3 years and worked in our American schools. She is trying to implement all that she learned but is so limited due to lack of resources and funds.





(first 2 photos of the village school, llast photo of Madame Seli and one of her classrooms)

Je suis très contente!

Je suis très contente! (I am very happy!)


Hello to all our great friends and family. May has proved to be full of lots of fun activities. Or maybe it is just that I am getting use to things here and I am much braver to venture out. Of course our French studies continue to take precedence over any activities we do. Everyday, French! Ken and I have finally come to the realization that this language absolutely has no absolutes. It’s as fluid as water and is just as hard to contain.


Today was girls shopping day. We were so excited when we saw a Macey’s and even a Banana Republic. I can’t really say that is was up to American standards, but hey, one can not be picky. Honestly, I have come to love the open-air markets rather than the stores. Jennifer has gotten very good and bartering. As for me, I’m still working on it.

Beach time is always a favorite. When I am missing home, I especially like to go to the beach and sit on the rocks with the waves crashing below might feet. I stare straight out only seeing the ocean-blue (Atlantic) with Africa behind me. It’s my time, just me and God, and He talks to me. I never leave there not feeling strengthened and comforted. Don’t take this wrong, I love Africa, I just equally miss my family and friends.


New friends are always a blessing. Danielle is a beautiful young lady from the Netherlands God has brought into our lives. She is such a delight to be around and is very anxious to learn more about Jesus. And she speaks English! Being able to communicate and teach her has been very timely a breath of fresh air.

There are days that are not all fun, but requires a bit of work. Jennifer and Erica (Erica is Jennifer’s friend that is visiting us from the states) helped Emma this day to separate the bad palm oil nuts from the good. Emma has become another family member. We all love her dearly.



I am sad to say that it is near the time for Jennifer to leave us. I am cherishing every moment I have with her. I am thankful that God has allowed her to be with us this year. My prayer is that it has forever changed her and has birthed the spirit of missions into her soul.

God Still Moves Over the Waters

God Does Move Over the Waters

In Gen 1:1 the Bible says that the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters.

This scripture came alive to me yesterday after enjoying a glorious day in the presence of God. I traveled about 45 kilometers to a small village/town called Akoumapa. The congregation was small in number, but large in worship. In the Old Testament it talks about David when he brought back the Ark from Obed-Edom. David danced wildly before the ark and rejoiced. He was elated to have the presence of God back. It was obvious that there was a spirit of rejoicing among this small group of saints. With every song the Spirit of God began to move over the service.

Great Grace was moving among us.

Bonito, our usual taxi driver was not available so he sent his older brother to drive me to the village. He was quiet and did not say much as we journeyed down the road. As we approached the church he told me that he was hungry and would pick me up after the service. Within a few minutes I watched him slip into the back of the church before I began to preach. The Spirit of God began to move upon him.

The temperature was about 100 degrees in that small building so you can image I was absolutely soaked to the bone after preaching and praying for people. We jumped in the car loaded with coconuts, pineapples and oranges given to us by the villagers. Needing something cold to drink I asked the driver to stop so that we could get something to drink. We sat at an outside café and the Spirit of God began to move.

The word of God began to speak to him and told him that he needed to be baptized in Jesus Name. His response, “Oh, can we do it right now? I need to be baptized immediately!”

To make a long story longer, I called Pastor Koffe and we took him and 5 others to the Ocean and baptized them in Jesus Name.

The Spirit of God Hovered over that vast ocean as He washed away the sins of an obedient taxi driver.

(Please pray for Bonito, our friend and taxi driver, his son died this week. He was only 2 1/2 years old. He became sick on Monday and passed away on Tuesday. I think he may have had cerebral malaria. The family is devastated. Bonito has buried a brother, sister and now his youngest son within just a months time. They are in need of the great grace of the Lord.)

Africa needs the help of God.

Anaho Baptism

The town of Anaho Togo is located on the banks of the Atlantic Ocean, which in turn pours into Lac Togo. This Lac is the epicenter for Fetish/Voodoo worship. The spirits of this area are strong and not to be taken lightly. We recently took a boat across Lac Togo and was told of the various beliefs. They are steeped in satanic worship. Is is said that the spirit of the snake rules the lake.


I am here to proclaim differently. Jesus Christ has all things under His feet, including the spirits of Lac Togo.




We were going to the Lake to baptise 9 people in Jesus Name. It was a glorious day for the Kingdom of God. The water was clear and free of debris.

The pastor stepped out of the water immediately after the baptism. Suddenly a mass of sludge moved across the water. This sludge had the smell of stagnant water and death.



Directly in front of this sludge a snake led the way. It was evident that there was a manifestation of the spirit of this area.




I am glad that we know the true and living God!


There is power in the Name of Jesus!


Even the spirits of this world must stand and wait for the salvation of souls before they can cross the water.

Lomé Togo Crusade

We recently held a crusade in the city of Lome, Togo.

Great faith was among the area churches. An estimated 50,000 fliers were passed out on the streets. The churches did a tremendous job preparing for this event.

The greeters were in position, the follow-up team was ready to capture names and addresses and the singers sang to the glory of God.

People began to fill the field where the crusade was to take place. For three nights we had an average of 3000 in attendance. When the alter calls were made they literally ran to the front hoping to receive something from the Lord.

The bible says that every man is given a measure of faith. The faith that brought them to the front made room for them in the presence of God. There were too many people for us to pray for individually so the people began to pray for one another.

In His mercy and Grace, God filled over 330 with His Spirit, and over 300 were healed instantly. Those who came with lameness walked home without their canes! Those who came burdened down with the weight of the world, danced in the presence of the King of Kings.

He is faithful to hear the cries of the people.

Lome, Togo will never be the same. The hand of God has left His fingerprints on the people.

Please continue to pray that God will continue His favor in Togo and Burkina Faso.

Thank you for your continued financial support. Without it we could not serve in this great land.

In Great African Love,

Ken and Gin

Jennifer has found her place here.

It is early evening, the sun is beginning to set.

From across the wall the children begin to cry out, "Yovo, Yovo!". This means white person in the Eva language.

Jennifer grabs the soccer ball and heads out into the street. When she returns her feet are as dirty as the street itself. Jen is enjoying the people as much as they are enjoying her. I would not be surprised to see her return to West Africa after she completes her studies in the States.

Her days are spent studying the French and Eva languages, while enjoying the company and friendships of the Africans.

Saying Goodbye to Jonathon

"If Love Could be Measured in Tears we Would have Filled an Ocean"

Jonathon boarded a plan Tuesday night bound for the States. Being a private person I never thought that I would post such a writing, but everyone keeps asking how we really are.
Our hearts just found a new hole. Saying goodbye to our youngest really hit hard.

Gin and I stood on the veranda Tuesday and cried silent tears. We were going to say goodbye to Jon in about 4 hours. I did not want him to see me cry, but the emotions would not stop spilling from my eyes. I asked God, "Will it always hurt this bad?" You know telling our children goodbye.

He did not respond, so I am sure that His answer was most likely "yes".

Jonathon visited the orphanage later in the afternoon. The boys, all under 6, hung on him. It was as if they knew that they would never see him again. Jon had a hard time telling them goodbye.

During the last 5 months Jonathon has found a love that is not easy to find, the love of the Africans. It is a love that runs deep in their culture. They value relationships as much as life itself. Many friends came by to say goodbye, their expression of love to Jon overwhelmed us.

As the taxi took off from the front of our house, Jules, one of Jonathon's good friends hugged him and said, "I will see you again in paradise."

Friendships and relationships must not be taken lightly. Cherish every person that God sends into your life.

Please pray for Jonathon as he begins his new life. He will be moving to Omaha Nebraska and serving in Bethel Christian Church. God is doing some great things in his life!

So, "How are we doing today you ask?" Well, please ask us again tomorrow.

Ken

Ok, now a week has past. Jon made it home fine and is VERY happy. We are over the shock and the sun is back out. Thank you for your prayers!

In Retrospect ......

Friends,

Here we are, another week has gone by. There are moments when time seems to be standing still, but then as I reflect back at the months that have already passed, I ask myself, “Where has the time gone?”

I would venture to say my family has settled into what I would call our daily regiments. The life style here is of a much slower pace. I believe this is probably been the most difficult to adjust to. Also, not having our own means of transportation has only contributed to these feelings of confinement. It has taken some time for each one of us to adjust at our own pace. I can only give God the praise for helping us through this period.

Is it all pedals of sweet smelling roses? Has our time here been the utopia of life’s experiences? I would only be lying if I said it was. Truth! This is what I want to convey to you. My heart rips every time I see a small child sitting in the street with his belly bulging from mal-nutrition. Or when I see a human all twisted from birth defects sitting on the street corner begging for just a morsel of bread. With my own eyes, I see on continual bases things like a teen-age girl, using water from a dirty puddle, in the middle of town washing

her hair.

You may say to yourself, these things go on in America as well. But I would say to you not at this great of magnitude. Thank God for America and its welfare system. I know that most would agree that our welfare system is broken and we are only heading for a collapse of the system if changes are not made, but if you could see what I see. Not having humanitarian needs in the fore front of the government system has brought great deficiency among this nation and its people.

Do you know that 80% of the taxi drivers here have a college degree? And believe me when I say there are a lot of taxi and moto drivers. The women that sell vegetables and fruit on the streets for the most part have degree’s as well. Why so much poverty? The infrastructure of some of the African countries, and Togo being one, does not have industry coming in. The instability of the government causes the countries that could come in and help to develop are not willing to take the risk, therefore causes the lack of jobs, which in turn causes the onslaught of poverty. I find myself thanking God everyday that I was born an American at the same time hearing the cries of the people of Lome saying, “Why couldn’t have I been born in America?”

In retrospect, for the members of the UPCI here in Togo, I see great joy, pure worship, and a true desire to serve our Lord. For the people that have found Christ, because of their great hardships, their reverence for God goes deep within there very being.

Our desire is to continue to seek out the people of Togo, and to help take them off of the road of hardship and put them on the road of blessings. Please continue to pray not only for us, but for the people of Togo and the pastoral leadership that is here.
God Bless you all
Ginny

Another Day In Togo

Friends,

The day started early today. What would take just a few minutes in the states takes a few days here. The only thing quicker here is a smile and an embrace.

I had taken a moto to a cross road to meet a friend. Naturally, I was 20 minutes early. Everyone here is 20 minutes late.

To redeem the time I walked to the corner where a woman was selling fruit and I purchased an orange. She peeled the skin for me and cut a small hole in the top. I began to squeeze the juice from it. We do things much different here. I must have worked on that orange for 30 minutes making sure not to waste any of it.

Hundreds of Africans drove and walked past watching this Yovo, (white man), make a mess of something so simple. Juice had poured down my chin and on to my shirt.

An older man in rags walked by asking for something in Eva, the local language. I smiled. He laughed since we could not communicate. It would have been great to have been able to find out his story. Everyone has one you know. Most stories are filled with pain, but lathered in Joy.

Every wild moto ride;
Every smell;
Every taste;
Every embrace;
Lets me know that I am still alive.

Africa has taken my heart and I pray that it will not give it back.

In great African Love,

Ken