We are prophets of a future not our own

It helps, now and then, to step back and take a long view.

The Kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,

it is even beyond our vision.

We accomplish in our lifetime only a fraction

of the magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.

We cannot do everything, and there is a sense of

liberation in realizing this.

This enables us to do something, and to do it very well.

It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning,

a step along the way, an opportunity for the Lord’s grace to enter

and do the rest.

We may never see the end results, but that is the difference between

the master builder and the worker.

We are workers, not master builders; ministers, not messiahs.

We are prophets of a future not our own.

-Bishop Ken Untener

At the church in Nacala

The Fiel conference, attended by about 300 Mozambican pastors, was held this past week at the SIL Centre

We helped to serve meals

Fresh rolls are on sale on the side of the road pretty much everywhere. I wish I could take photos of smells and tastes; YUM!

True greatness

Then they came to Capernaum; and when he was in the house he asked them, “What were you arguing about on the way?” But they were silent, for on the way that had been arguing about who was the greatest. He sat down, called the twelve, and said to them, “Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.” Then he took a little child and put it among them; and taking it in his arms, he said to them, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

-Mark 9:33

“I once thought the disciples were slow, but not now. I now think that the real challenge of Jesus was not a matter of intelligence but ultimately a challenge to give up an old vision and to accept a new one.”

-John Powell

A few months ago, I was at a retreat for university students on the east coast, where we studied the book of Mark for a week.  It was called MarkEast, which is really pretty intuitive when you think about it. Today, I am not longer a university student, and I am no longer on the east coast. I am in Mozambique but I still the things I learned at MarkEast and the subsequent month in Halifax are sinking in. Studying the book of Mark I wondered over and over again “Why don’t the disciples get it?” Now I am asking myself that question: “Why don’t I get it?” Even after learning about true greatness, I still want greatness for myself. Even as a Christian, I find myself wanting to be the next Mother Teresa known for doing good works or C.S. Lewis known for insightful and intelligent writing. But then I remember. This is not what greatness is to Jesus.

During my time in Halifax and in Mozambique, I have met many truly great people. These people won’t get a Nobel Prize or be on the cover of Time Magazine. They won’t be interviewed by Ellen and when they die Elton John won’t write a song about them.  But the Kingdom of God isn’t like this world. Jesus honours the humble.

People like Mrs. I. To tell the truth, her name escapes me. I can’t even remember how many children she’s had. But that does not change the fact that I am humbled and honoured to have met her. This woman is the mother of one of the Mozambicans who works in the office with us. The other weekend we three meninas accompanied our coworker and his wife to a church conference in his hometown of Nacala. We were graciously hosted by Mr. and Mrs. I. Here is a woman who has lived through Portuguese colonization, a brutal civil war, and a time when Mozambique was considered the poorest country in the world, all the while raising a family and serving in the church. And she treated us, as strangers, with the utmost respect and kindness, feeding us a veritable feast. For some reason she was rather fascinated with the quiet Canadian. She told me she had a grandson who was perfect for me. She liked me even though I was just a stranger enjoying her hospitality. I could not even offer conversation because my Portuguese is extremely weak. But still, the woman treated me like an old friend. I hope I can be that willing to offer folks my respect and love. As we were loading up the truck to leave on Sunday after all the goodbyes and I was about to get in the truck, Mrs. I said something to me. I couldn’t understand her so I looked questioningly at her son, my coworker. In broken English he tried to find the words for what she had said, something that apparently does not directly translate. “She said… you’re like… a sister.”  I smiled at her as we drove away, and I couldn’t help but be in awe. How I wish I could be like Mrs. I! What a faithful mother, servant of Christ, and hard worker. She has doubtlessly lived through more sorrow than I will ever know. And yet she can still see a sister in a silent young stranger. I know that as a white person, Mrs. I could have felt angry and resentful against me. But she chose love. And even though I do not know this woman very well, I suspect that her life has been a long exercise in the habit of choosing love.

My colleague's parents

Great men and women are found everywhere.

Sunset on the way back from Nacala

Beware of baobabs

The beautiful city of Nacala

Hectic days, with video

Hi friends,
This week has been very busy, with a trip out to the International School, a missionary family moving out to go on furlough, and a weekend journey to the port city of Nacala. The next weeks will prove to be busy as well.
For now, check out this video chronicling some of the first half of my time here in Mozambique.
https://vimeo.com/69944073

A lamp unto my feet

I have to admit that the last couple of weeks have had of a lot of inner struggle for me, as I did my work and lived my life here and wondered: is this really where I am supposed to be? What should I do with my life? What is the best thing I could do with my life? Is God calling me to long-term cross-cultural missions? Am I willing to say yes if He is?

I had these and a lot more questions. Questions about where I should live and what my job should be and what education I should take. It doesn’t help that after September 1^st I have absolutely no idea what I will be doing for a job. I know where I will live and I know how I would like to spend my spare time. But as for work and possibly school, these stand in my future like a giant question mark.

Actually most of my future is a giant question mark, and for a girl like me who wants to know exactly what to expect, that is frustrating. I feel envious of those people who always have known what they want to do and spend their lives doing the thing they love. As for me, there are a million and one things I love doing, and I am not sure what vocation would be best. Things would be a lot easier if I just knew what exactly I am supposed to be doing for my whole life.

I remembered a song we used to sing at Pioneer Clubs and it is based on Psalm 119:105, which says “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”  From this I get an image of playing a game called Grogs at camp, which, if you are not familiar with it, involves walking through the woods at night. All you have is a flashlight to illuminate the path, and all you see is the little bit of path directly in front of you where the flashlight is shining. You don’t see the whole forest stretching before you- but the little bit of light before you is enough to find your way. The Bible doesn’t say “Thy word is a GPS showing every turn I’ll have to make on the path before I reach the destination.” It’s a lamp to my feet, showing the next step. And that’s enough.

So, I’ve stopped worrying so much about the future, and instead I want to focus on God and His Word. Because what I do with my life isn’t as important as why I do it, and who I do it with. And I hope the answers to the who and the why questions are: with Jesus, and because He’s good. Anything else is just details.

And I have to say, yesterday as I stood in a crowded almendra outside of a church as everyone danced and sang tirelessly for hours, I did not doubt that this is where God wanted me to be right now. And, yes, I will quote my favourite Latin-American booty-shaker on this: “this time for Africa.”

So now I know one of the reasons why there are no wooden houses...

We went to a wedding

Road to Nampula

Community

Happy Canada Day everyone! It is hard to believe that it has already been one month since the plane left the ground from the Halifax airport. We celebrated the day by eating a cake baked by my sole Canadian colleague, and it was enjoyed by Mozambicans, Americans, and Brits alike.

We had the cake at morning tea-time

I made this special meal for Canada Day

The thought I would like to share with you today is a thought about community. “Community” is a trendy word right now, I think. Many of us want to experience community, whatever that means. But, as I have been learning, Mozambicans know a lot more about what community means than we do.

Pastor B. is a short, jolly, and like all Mozambicans I’ve met so far, an excessively optimistic man. I met him first at our morning prayer meeting in the office, which happens 7:30am every weekday. Though he has been studying in South Africa for the last couple years, this Bible translator was in town visiting his sister who was very ill. When he spoke at our weekly missionary fellowship one night, he was modest about his English skills but spoke very well, and in his delivery of the message, it was clearly genuine and came from his heart and the Bible. With his multilinguism and his strong faith and good teaching, Pastor B. was sponsored by the organization to get more education so that he may have more training. While this is a great opportunity for him and his family, there are consequences. It is taking longer than he thought it would to get his degree, so he is short thousands of dollars for an additional year. As if that weren’t enough, the church denomination he is part of is not supportive of any missions organizations outside of the denomination. As a result, Pastor B. has been cut off from his church. They see his involvement in other organizations as turning his back on the church.  People treat him as if he is a heretic, and they ignore his phone calls. When he does enter a church meeting, people ask him what he is doing there. If it were me, I would be deeply hurt, and I would most likely choose another church to go to! But that is not the way Pastor B. thinks. When you are part of a church, you are part of a church, no matter how much they reject you or hurt you. He will still keep on trying to come back and rejoin the community, despite their rejection of him. He would not dream of leaving.

I was inspired by Pastor B’s story. Here is a man who understands true community: loving others and being committed to a community even when it causes hurt. This is what Christ is like! You may remember that in early May I went to a retreat for university students called MarkEast, where I spent a week studying the second half of the gospel of Mark. Something that struck me during that week was the incredible determination of Jesus to die. God’s chosen people, Israel, did not recognize the Messiah when he came. And even the people closest to Jesus—his disciples—turned away. Judas betrayed him. When he was arrested, the disciples fled.  Later, Peter denied ever knowing him. And it was the chief priests and the scribes—the people who were supposed to be drawing the people closer to God—who wanted Jesus dead. From reading the Gospels, it is clear that Jesus had the power to stop his death. But he stayed silent and complied as he was cruelly executed. That kind of love is incredible. Jesus died, I believe, as an atoning sacrifice for our sins, so that we may know God. And he was still willing to go through this painful, painful thing even when everyone he knew had basically chosen a side that was not with him. But I would think, and I hope you would agree, that it was worth it.

So in that way, Jesus and Pastor B. can teach us something about community. Community is making a commitment to love people in all circumstances, no matter how much they hurt or reject you. This love is only possible through God’s spirit.

African sunset

Here's a photo of a banana tree