Would I Have Been Smiling?

I haven’t done well at keeping up with our blog. We’ve been so busy that I can’t seem to keep my head above water. Speaking of water, this past week we went to do a Bible study in one of our new areas, but when we arrived in the small town of Sinazeze, so did the rains. We sat in front of one of the shops in town and waited out the storm, wondering if we would have Bible study.

After the rain slowed down we went to see if the people wanted to meet. We entered the village of the old man who keeps the Bible study going—he’s probably in his 70s. He is the cutest little old man. He loves to dance and sing and his toothless smile just grabs your heart.

When we drove up to the village, we noticed that the young men of the village had taken cover in the kitchen hut--a somewhat open area with a thatched roof. As we looked to the left, there was the little old man crouching down in the doorway of his hut. Why didn’t we have our camera? His small hut was up on stilts and looked more like a chicken coop. The doorway was only about half the size of a normal doorway, but there he was grinning from ear to ear, trying to keep dry.

I turned to Wes and asked, “Is that his hut?” Sure enough, it was. I felt so sad for the little man, yet he didn’t seem to be unhappy, he was just glad to be dry.

If that was me, would I have been smiling? I doubt it! I’m spoiled. I have a big house, tiled floors, nice furniture, a good roof to keep me dry, and many luxuries of life. This little man lives in a house made of mud and sticks, and yet he is still able to smile.

It Was Only a Dream

It was only a dream!” We have all said those words at one time or another, and most of the time that is true. But every now and then, especially here in Africa, we hear about dreams that have great meaning. Let me share one of these with you.

Elizabeth accepted Christ as her Savior about 5 years ago. Since that time, she has been faithfully praying for her family to know and experience her wonderful Savior. Well, this story is not about her, but about her father.

Mr. Chungu is a kind and gentle man. He is 69 years old and has been a Catholic all his life; a good church-goer. Mr. Chungu recently started working for us in our yard. You might be thinking, “He is too old.” Actually, he says the work in our yard is “like playing compared to his previous job.”

Recently, I went outside to talk to Mr. Chungu. In our conversation, I invited him to come and visit our church sometime. I also gave him a pamphlet titled, “I’m a Pretty Good Person.” I asked him to read it and tell me what he thought.

A few days later, I asked him about the pamphlet. He said it was good and that he understood it. We talked for a few minutes, and I shared with him that it is Jesus who saves us from our sin, not our good works. He agreed and went back to work.

The next Sunday, Mr. Chungu came to visit our church. The message being preached by one of our leaders (a man named Dimas) was from Matthew 18:1-4. The disciples had asked Jesus who was the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. To answer their question, Jesus called a little child to come to Him and said, “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

The following day when Mr. Chungu came to work, Dimas, the one who had preached the message, was also at my home. I asked Mr. Chungu what he learned from the sermon. He then began to share with me how he had returned to his home on Sunday thinking a lot about the sermon. When he fell asleep that night, he had a dream. In the dream Jesus was teaching the children. As He was teaching, He looked up and saw Mr. Chungu standing nearby. He invited him to come to Him.

When I asked Mr. Chungu what he thought about the dream, he said, “Jesus is calling me to come to Him. He wants to come into my heart and be my Savior. I must accept him with humility like a little child.” Right there in the yard, Mr. Chungu prayed and invited Jesus to come into His life. He made a commitment to follow Jesus as His Savior and Lord.

No matter what we think about dreams, who can deny the fact that God used this dream in Mr. Chungu’s life to draw Him to salvation.

Anniversary Adventures

August 19th was our thirtieth anniversary of marriage. We wanted to get a way for a few days to celebrate. While working in a new area, Sinazongwe, we discovered that there is a little island across Lake Kariba called "Chete Island.” We checked into the possibility of staying two days and two nights on the island for our anniversary, but because of our busy schedule it would have to be sandwiched in between two Bible studies we had scheduled in the area.

We should have known from the beginning that our anniversary celebration was going to be an adventure. We contacted the only lodge on Chete Island and were told that the owner was out, but could book through her friend who was helping out. We wanted to go over early Friday, have the whole day to enjoy, spend all day Saturday and check out early Sunday morning. The friend in charge said that another couple would be arriving at noon, and asked if we could wait for them so we could travel together on the boat that would ferry us to the island. We agreed thinking we would still have half a day on the island.

We arrived before twelve, ready to go. The boat was there, but the other couple was not. We were served coffee and visited with a young man named Dagonie, who would be our guide. Needless to say, we did not set off for the island until after 3:00 p.m., arriving on the island after 4:00. I was disappointed that we would only have one full day to enjoy our time away.

Chete Island is beautiful, and once we were on the island, I was fine. The scenery was awesome and the camp quite rustic. It wasn't a five-star hotel, but it wasnt' supposed to be. We were each escorted to our tented lodges and then invited to go on a sunset cruise.

We set out in a large motorized banana boat. With hippos all around us, we made our way around the cove where the lodge is located. The water was calm, but filled with hippos that kept an eye on us all the time. Dagonie assured us that they would not come near us because they did not like the sound of the motor. I liked the sound of the motor as it was reassuring to know that it would keep the hippos away—that is until it died. After a few minutes of priming the fuel line, the motor was purring once again, and we set off for the lodge.

After a delicious supper and getting to know the others at the lodge, Dagonie escorted us to our tent (outside the electric fenced area). He informed us that we would most likely be visited by the “resident” elephant that likes to come and greet visitors. They had named the elephant, "Pungwe" which means “all night stay”.

When we settled down for the night, we could hear in the distance the breaking of tree limbs, and there was a strange odor in the air. We both knew, having lived in Africa for some time that the sounds and smells were from an elephant. We were tired, however, and fell asleep. .

Around 1:00 a.m. I woke up to a very strong smell. I then heard the cracking of tree limbs right outside our tent. I woke Wes up and we laid there listening for a few minutes. Wes finally got up, very quietly I might add, and went to the door of the tent (which does not lock). Of course I knew the lock would not keep an elephant out anyway.

Wes moved the curtain to look out, and informed me that the elephant was just on the other side of the not so tall grass fence that partially blocked our tent. Finally, I got up the nerve to climb out of bed and look out the window as well. What I saw only intensified my fears. There looming like a large grey dinosaur, was a giant bull elephant facing us, moving his head back and forth while breaking tree limbs. It seemed as if he was looking right at us. I quickly moved away from the door and went to the other side of the tent, begging Wes to move away from the door as well. My heart was pumping fast and I was praying. It seemed like forever before the elephant left our tent. Before leaving, he came closer to the side of the tent and then moved on down the path. The next morning we discovered he had even ventured into the lodge area and destroyed some grass and trees.

I spent the morning relaxing in the sun, catching up on the sleep I missed, while Wes went out fishing with the guys. I also visited with the other female guest. After a nice lunch, everyone took an afternoon siesta, and then it was time for our evening cruise again. I asked Dagonie “Is the motor going to make it this time?” He assured me they had worked on it and everything would be fine.

Because we had more time for the cruise, we ventured out of the cove into the rougher waters of the Kariba I was not thrilled about going beyond the comfort zone (if you can call it that) of the cove. I was determined, however, not to be a worrier and enjoy. I had my binoculars and was scouting for elephants, when suddenly our motorized banana boat hit something and we went up in the air and to the right. I was sure a hippo had come up under our boat, and was waiting for the big CHOMP. We nearly capsized because Wes and the other male visitor both reacted by moving to the left side. The Lord was good, and we stayed upright. We had not hit a hippo, but a tree under the water that was not visible. It was then that I noticed all the trees sticking out of the water. Hippos, trees, what next?

We moved on a little ways when we saw a group of elephants off in the distance heading toward the water. I love watching elephants (as long as they are not outside my tent). I was not going to get to enjoy them, however, because suddenly the motor stopped again. It had flooded when we hit the tree. I was sure they would get it started again, but after some time, it was obvious that we were in trouble. Wes and one of the guides grabbed the oars and began to paddle for shore. We were headed toward a very sandy beach. Hmmm, didn't Dagonie tell me earlier that day that the crocodiles loved the sandy beaches the best?

We were asked to get out of the canoe so the guys could work on the motor. It was a beautiful beach, and there were no crocodiles in sight. As we waited on the shore, we watched the elephants in the distance, did some bird viewing and took pictures of the beautiful sunset. We prayed for the motor to start, and the Lord answered our prayers, but the guides called the lodge and asked them to send another boat. They wanted to have a back up.

While waiting for the boat, Dagonie led us down the beach a ways to show us a little cove filled with crocodiles. I and the other female visitor kept our distance, but the guys got a little too close for comfort.

Finally the other boat came and the adventure was over. We were safe back at the lodge, enjoying a delicious supper, viewing the star-filled skies, and warming ourselves by the camp fire. We had a restful night as Pungwe did not show up again. We packed up our things and prepared for our trip back to the mainland.

We will always remember our anniversary adventure. It was a wonderful experience, but not one I’d want every day. It is the kind of thing you write about afterwards, but during the experience you think, “Are we crazy, or what?”

Our Son

Our son is older than we are. In fact, he is 84 years old. His name is BoNelson. He lives in the village of Kawilizhi. He came to know Christ through the ministry of one of our missionary couples, Kit and Mary Ann Smith, who were living in another part of Zambia at the time. He told them that he wanted to go home and share Jesus with his village. He returned to Kawilizhi just at the time we were beginning to plant churches in his area. Since that time, God has started a small church in his village. The Smiths returned to America, and he felt sad. We promised to come to his village to see him as often as we could. Each time we came he would say, “I’ve been crying for you people.” One day, out of the clear blue, he started calling me (Laurie) his mother. I found out that is because he considered me his spiritual mother. As time went by, he began to say that Wes was his father (his spiritual father). The Smiths, he told us, are his great mother and father because they led him to the Lord. Bo Nelson is a very special man. He is not a rich man, but is rich toward God. Every time we come to his village we find him reading the Bible and taking notes in a little book. Other times we find him teaching someone the Bible. Every time we come to his village he gives us a gift. We feel so humbled. We stopped at his village the other day to make some plans for ministry. He was so embarrassed that his wife was gone and could not make us something to eat, that he went to the little village store and bought us each a package of biscuits (cookies) and some sweeties (candy). It is hard to accept such a gift from someone who has so little, but we know that God will give back so much to him in return. One last thing I must say about Bo Nelson, About a month ago when we went to his village he told Wes that he is praying for Wes to live to be 130 years old so he can share Jesus with many people in Zambia. I told Wes, “Have fun without me!” This last visit he also added that he is praying for me to live to be 120. Figure that one out!

God’s Plan—Not Coincidence

Okay, Laurie has been writing all the blog posts so far, now it is my turn. Here goes.

Wow, God is so amazing! We just finished doing ministry with a team from Wynne, Arkansas in Sinazongwe, Zambia. The ministry involved prayer walking, survey work, and evangelism. Because we were such a large group, 30 altogether, we divided into four smaller groups. On the first day, my group went to an area near the chief’s village. As we were heading back to where we were staying, we ran into a three men coming from a funeral—they had been drinking heavily; in fact, they were drunk! When the three men found out what we were doing, they told us we should go to the village where the funeral was being held and tell them the good news. Knowing that a funeral is the biggest social gathering in a community, I led the team to the village where we shared a story called “Creation to Christ.” The village elders asked us to come back the next afternoon to share again, and so without hesitation we accepted the invitation. Three old men, and two women accepted Christ.

One of the women who accepted Christ lived about 20 km from the funeral. She asked us to please come to her village to share with her people. We made an appointment for Friday afternoon, which would be our last day of ministry. She gave us the name of the place where she lived and a few instructions. She also gave us the name of the headman in her area, and told us that he could direct us to her home.

Friday afternoon came, and our group headed out to the woman’s village. On our way, we saw an old man walking on the road. Not sure if we were going in the right direction, we stopped and asked him to direct us to the headman’s village. He said, “I will take you there,” and climbed in the vehicle. Five kilometers later, driving down a very narrow path, we arrived at the headman’s village. At first the headman did not know who the woman was, but after more discussion he said, “I think I know her.” However, he added, “You can’t get there from here; the river is too high to cross.”

We looked at one another, wondering what we should do. We decided to wait. As we waited, people began to gather under a tree; a group of about thirty. We decided to share the story of “Creation to Christ.” After sharing the story, eight people accepted the invitation to receive Christ as their Savior. Three of these were the headman of the village, the vice headman and the village secretary. Even the old man that took us to the headman’s village, accepted Christ. Although we could not find the lady from the funeral, God had brought us to this place to share with these people so that some of them could find Jesus.

None of the events that had led us to this point were coincidental; running into the three drunks, attending the funeral, meeting the lady who invited us to her village, finding the old man on the road, the river that was too full to cross, and the people gathering together under the tree. Our God is truly amazing!

The Hike

Yesterday Wes and I spent the day preparing for next week’s ministry in Sinazongwe. We have to carry 20 sleeping bags, tents, and other camping gear, so it was a busy day of preparation. By late afternoon, we were tired of packing and decided to take a walk. We needed some exercise and just to be outdoors.

As we started off, we headed down the usual path away from our little town to the rural area which surrounds us on every side. We like to get “out” and breathe the country air and see the beautiful hills that surround Gwembe. We can’t see them from our house because of our tall grass fence and the many fruit trees in our yard.

We started off walking down the main dirt road, but it is boring. I suggested we take a path off the road that led through the villages. We’ve been this way many times, as it used to be our bike path.

After walking down the village path for about 10 minutes, Wes asked if we were going to make the “loop.” The loop takes us a good distance but ends up back near our home. The loop has some really challenging hills to climb. Because it was nearing 5:00 p.m., I suggested we do a shorter route. Wes said he knew of another path that would be shorter and get us to the same end.

At this point I was following Wes with little reservation as the path was wide and well worn. As we were approaching a village, two dogs came out running toward us. I don’t like strange dogs, having once been attacked by three at one time. I picked up a stone and told Wes we needed to turn back. He would have gone on, but for my sanity, he turned around and we started heading back.

Suddenly, Wes turned down a little foot path. I asked him, “Why are we going this way? Why don’t we just go back the way we came?” It seemed to me that this path (if you could call it that) was going in the opposite direction. Wes just said, “Come on, trust me.” But as we headed down this “new” path, I began to feel a little uneasy. I may live in Africa, but I’m not the most adventurous person by nature.

The path was narrow, rocky, and the grass was high. I had visions of snakes coming out of the grass and of getting lost. The path was leading us away from villages, which did not help my fears. Where was Wes leading us to? I should have trusted him; he is very good at directions, but I allowed my fears to take over. Fear does not bring out the best in me. I began to complain, “Why are you taking us this way? Why couldn’t we just take the wide path that is well-traveled? My complaining did not help the situation and didn’t please Wes. In fact, he asked if I could just be quiet for one whole minute.

We continued on. We came to a dry stream bed and Wes looked at me with concern, knowing he had led me to a place where we would have to be very careful as we climbed down the steep embankment. He gave me his hand, but I refused. If I was going to fall, I didn’t want us both tumbling down together. Wes went down first, and I came down on my…(use your imagination). It wasn’t as bad as I had thought, but now we were headed up a hill with no villages in sight, only trees and bushes.

We just kept going, the path becoming less and less of a path. Finally, we heard the sound of a motor. Out in the bush? Sure enough, there was a rather large village with a grinding mill. Relief flooded over me! We were back in civilization. I swallowed my pride and admitted that Wes had led us in the right way. As we continued on down the path, we came to a wide road again. Yes, the wide road meant that we were on our way home.

Once again Wes took a turn off onto a foot path. Not again, were my first thoughts. However, this time I followed feeling more assured that he knew where He was taking us. We came upon a very old woman carrying wood on her head. She could barely move and her eyes were almost completely shut. Wes, in his broken Tonga, asked if he could carry the wood to her home. At first she seemed a little nervous, but allowed him to take the load off her head. We couldn’t understand exactly where to take the load because her directions to her home were unclear. She just pointed and said she lived “over there.”

We asked a young boy who was watching, where she lived. His directions were not much better. He pointed to another young girl coming down the path with a load of wood on her head. We assumed he was saying that she was with the old woman. After asking the young girl if they were together, she led us to the woman’s hut. We dropped off the load and went on our way. It was not long and we were out of the bush, onto the main road that leads to our home.

What did I learn from this adventure? As I reflected on our experience, I realized that I need to learn to trust in the leadership that God has given to me. I don’t like the “unknown.” I want to “see” the way clearly. God doesn’t always allow us to see everything clearly, but He wants us to learn to trust in Him. He knows where He is taking us, and can use my husband to lead the way.

Proverbs 3:5-6- Trust in the Lord with all thine heart. Lean not on thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge Him, and He will direct thy path.

Let the Little Children Come

I’m sure I won’t have time to blog everyday, but I want to write this story while it is fresh on my mind. Today we went to our church here in the village of Gwembe. Because of our work as church planters, we often find ourselves in a different church each week. However, the Gwembe church has a special place in our hearts because we consider it our “home” church. When we arrived at church, the people were gathering. We went in and took our usual desk in the front of the room off to the side near the door. You might be wondering about the desk—we meet in a school.

A few adults arrived and then in walked the children with their bright cheery faces, some dressed up in their best attire, some in dirty clothes with no shoes. They are all special, from the cleanest to the dirtiest.

Some of the children are afraid of us with our white skin; others are intrigued and want to touch us to see if the paint will come off. Two little girls, Kabunda and Machila actually fight over who is going to sit next to us. At first it was just Kabunda sitting between Wes and me. Then in came Machila and squeezed in between us as well. Then came Machila’s cousin; Wes lifted her up on his lap. Next came Maxwell, also wanting to sit on Wes’ lap. Church began and it was obvious there was not room for two adults and three children on the bench. Wes picked up Maxwell and moved over one row to sit next to a man and his son, leaving the little girls to sit with me.

We stood to sing a song and Wes put Maxwell down. As Wes sat back down, the little girls noticed that Wes’ lap was free. First Machila climbed off the bench and went to sit with Wes. Then Kabunda, being the jealous type, climbed up on his other knee. Machila’s cousin held up her arms pleading with her eyes, “Me too!” Wes picked her up as best he could and she sort of just dangled in between the two lying on her back looking up into his eyes. I could not help but get tickled. Maxwell came to stand at his feet with another little boy, both looking up at Wes with pleading eyes. Maxwell started crying. By now everyone is looking at the situation and smiling. Oh, how I wished I had my camera.

After church Wes told me he knew the situation was distracting, but what could he do? All He could think of were the words of Jesus, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of God belongs to such as these.” Luke 18:16.

Who knows, someday one of these children may look back and remember climbing onto the lap of the missionary, and as a result commit their life to following Jesus.

Tears of a Zambian

Yesterday we traveled to Sinazongwe again. This time to make the final preparations for a team that is coming from the states to help us in establishing new work in this area. The team will do prayer walking, Bible storying, survey work, and evangelism. Our purpose is to see where God is at work in planting new churches.

When we went to this area last time, we discovered that there are already many churches in this area already. We went home wondering if we should go to this area or look for another. But, the Lord had laid this area on our hearts, and so we prayed earnestly that the Lord would give us direction.

We spent the first part of the day in a village called Sinazeze, about 17km from Sinazongwe. We surveyed the area, mapping out where we would like to do our prayer walking with the team. While there, we made the decision not to host a crusade during this team ministry, but to wait until we see where exactly God is working.

We then proceeded to Sinazongwe, to talk to the police, and inform them that we would wait to host the Jesus Film, but would still be coming to work in their area. The officer in charge was out, but the inspector was in, the same man we had met with when we came earlier. Nothing is an accident in God’s plan. We had given the inspector a booklet to read about how to have eternal life. On the front of the booklet is a question, “If you were to die today, do you know for certain that you would go to heaven?” After informing him that we were going to wait to show the Jesus Film, he picked up the booklet and said, “This question on the front of this booklet has been boiling in my heart since you left.”

For the next few minutes, we shared the gospel with the officer, and another man who was sitting there. We gave them both the opportunity to make a decision to follow Christ. The inspector said, “I believe I want to do this today. I am ready to pray and ask the Lord to be my Savior.” As he was praying, and even afterwards, tears were pouring from his eyes. Is this unusual in Zambia? VERY!! We have never before seen a Zambian man cry over the things of God.

We left Sinazongwe knowing that the Lord is at work. Although there are churches already in the area, God still has a work for us to do.

A Visit to the Chief

We are new at this, so excuse us if we stumble through our first blog posting. Hopefully, you have read our profile, so we won't go into who we are and what we do in Zambia. Instead, we will let you jump into our lives with a story of what has happened most recently in our adventures in Zambia.

Last week we went to survey a new area where we are planning to begin new work. Having lived in Zambia for 10 years now, we know that it is wise to visit the chief of the area where you wish to work. This is nothing new to us, but we still tremble with the thought of making cultural mistakes.

The night before heading to this new area, one of our church members in our home village told us he was "somehow" related to the chief. He told us it would be best if we would call ahead and make an appointment. He then gave us a contact number, and told us that it belonged to David. Wes made the call, and David agree that we should meet the chief at 2:00.

The following day, we made our way to the new area mid morning, in order to have time to look around. At 2:00 promptly, we arrived at the chief's palace. Amazingly, he was ready to see us. You must understand, in Zambia, time is not an issue. We had a good meeting, sharing with him our plans. He welcomed us to his area and wrote a letter stating that we could travel and work freely throughout his area.

Time passed, and we were ready to go. The chief told us to call if we needed anything, handing us a piece of paper with several names. He called Wes to his desk and showed him the names, pointing out that the first name was his. To Wes' surprise, the chief was none other than "David." Embarrassed for having called the chief by his first name, Wes humbly apologized. The chief just smiled and said, "It's alright, my name is not Chief, it is David, and I like my first name." Although we both felt relieved, we once again knew that we had made a cultural mistake. But, being foreigners who didn't know any better, we were excused.