Grace

A few nights ago, Grace came to our door.  She attends the same church as us and lives near us.

Her daughter had given birth to twin boys that day at 2:30pm.  At 3:00pm, Grace's daughter died, leaving 2 little boys who will never know their mother, never know the warmth of her touch or feel the love in her voice.

Grace was visibly shaken.  She had run all the way from the hospital to find us.  She needed help.  Thanks to all of our amazing supporters, we were able to help her with the hospital bill and help her buy milk for the baby boys.  She left to return to the hospital, promising to repay us the small amount we had given her.

We are just thankful we were home that day, thankful that we were able to help, thankful for the blessings we have so we can share with others when they have need.

Election Time

Presidential elections are on Tuesday.  

Will that mean that we won't hear trucks driving by the compound at 4am with their loud speakers?  Our fingers are crossed!

We are hoping that all will remain peaceful during and after the elections.  So far, there have been just a few small outbursts in the capital city - Lusaka (about a 4 hour drive from Choma).  So, as you are at work, at home, at school...pray that the elections will bring peace and not chaos.

Kitchen Parties, Weddings, Facetime

Today I got to go to a "Kitchen Party." It's kind of like a Bridal Shower, only it happens the day of the wedding, there are about 200 women there and there is LOTS of dancing.  Every once in a while, the "Matron Host" (the female MC) will choose someone randomly to present a gift to the bride...and yes, I was chosen.  Being the only "makua" (white person) in a see of 200 Zambian women, I was an easy spot. I had to present gifts to the bride (a serving platter and fry pan), tell her what they were for...and do my best version of a Zambian dance.  Thankfully, my friend Angela was there to help me.  It was an event I will remember for a very long time...

Ironically, my "little" brother got married today.  I call him little, but he's a good foot taller than I.  Thanks to a wonderful thing called facetime and my sister Melissa's great willingness to hold up her phone for 20 minutes, Jon and I saw and heard every bit of the ceremony.  So thankful we got to see it all!

Also thankful that my camera battery died before I had to dance at the Kitchen Party...sorry, no photos of that one!

Love at First Sight

This is Jonathan.  A little guy up the road from us at the orphanage.  He is about 4 years old (sometimes it's hard to tell - they are all so little).  Jon was the first to meet him about 2 months ago.  He was with a group of university students at the orphanage and kept hearing someone call "Jonathan."


Then, he met this serious little guy.  No smiles at first.  Then, you tickle him and it's all giggles and smiles.  Then, no smile.  Completely serious.  There are times when you sit with him and he simply stares into your eyes intensely, like he's penetrating deep into your soul.  There is an incredible depth to this small child.

We were both in love with him as soon as we met him.  Every time we go, we make sure to seek him out, hold him, talk to him.  Now, when he sees us, he smiles.  And we love every minute of it.

It's Times Like These

We often wonder why we are thousands of miles away from family.  Why God brought us half way around the world to serve.  We miss our family and friends everyday.  And then, something happens that reminds us...

It was August 22nd, the first day of Hope Fest in Livingstone. Jon and I were there helping at a teen outreach event with some friends that had come to visit from New York.  At about 1:30pm they fed us lunch from "Hungry Lion" - chicken and french fries, and bottles of soda.

At about 2:30pm, I stepped outside for some air.  There were trash bags piled with empty styrofoam lunch containers, chewed on chicken bones, empty fry pouches and soda bottles. However, that's not what got my attention.  It was the little boy digging through all the trash for the treasured bottles.

For a few moments, I watched.  This "makua" (white person), just staring in awe at this little boy digging through the trash.  Why did he dig for these bottles?  I was curious.  But, he was too quickly shooed away from the bags and ran around the corner.

It wasn't too long (maybe 30 seconds) before he was back, grabbing a white trash bag and hiding behind a small wall, continuing to dig.  So, I went around the corner, I stuck my hands in the bag with him and I started to pull out soda bottle after soda bottle.

Our conversation was slow at the start,

"You don't have to help me m'am."

"Yes, I know"

Quiet...

"My name is Erin, what's your name?"

"Matthews."

"Hi Matthews, it's nice to meet you."

Quiet...

"Can I ask, Matthews, do you sell these bottles?" (knowing that most people sell them for about 4 cents)

"Yes, I sell them over in the market so that I can buy food for my family."

"Oh, I see.  Do you have brothers and sisters?"

"Yes, I have 2 sisters and a brother.  My father is dead, my mother is away in the village."

"Do you go to church."

"Yes, we go to the Anglican church."

"Do you have a Bible?"

"No."

"Well, I want you to have this one," (I pulled out a small New Testament Bible made for teens) "Can you read"

"Yes, but not very well, but my sister, she can read."

"That's great, maybe she can help you read it."

We continued to talk while our hands were dirtied from digging through 5 or 6 garbage bags.  He collected enough bottles to make about $5 and was on his way.  I invited him back the next day.  He was back by 4pm that same day, with his sister, Mary.  At the end of day 1 of Hope Fest, they stayed behind to help clean up and collected more bottles as we stacked chairs.

The next day, I waited near the back, hoping they would return.  Hoping they would not be collecting bottles all day - I knew there would be enough for them at Hope Fest...if only they would come.

They came.  At about 10:30am, they walked in, sat down by me and stayed until the end.  They sang, they danced, they laughed like children should.  They had fun.

Near the end of the day, I found myself looking around...for bottles.  Trying to scope out where the bottles were and trying to figure out a way we could collect them for Matthews and Mary.  I don't think I can remember a time when I was so protective of a bottle, when a bottle meant so much to me.  But, I knew if we could collect 100 bottles, it might be enough for them to get some tomato and onion to go with their dinner.  Then, I spotted the big, empty, white bags that the lunches were brought to us in.  Since we were not allowed to eat in the hall that day, they were not full of trash.  I grabbed a couple and started to scour the grounds, searching for bottles.  Jess and I stood at the doorway as people left, collecting all the empties.  Then, we ran outside the gate to find Matthews and Mary so we could give them their bottles.

Before we said our goodbyes, we gave them a few extra groceries that Jon had picked up for them - some milk, juice, bread, mealie meal and cookies and the chicken from our lunches. We gave them hugs and promised we would try to see them again when we were in Livingstone and told them that we would never forget them.

Matthews in the red dancing!

Erin, Matthews and Mary

It's times like these when we are reminded of why we are here, that we need to make the most of every opportunity to serve, even if it means getting dirty from chicken bones and empty fry packages, even if it means treasuring a small, plastic bottle and even if it means giving a piece of our hearts to 2 little 12 year olds in downtown Livingstone.

One thing is for sure...

...the children at the orphanage love their Uncle Jonothan!

Cross Cultural Preaching

In 1996, as a senior in high school, I preached for the first time at my home church of Kings Valley Wesleyan. Since then I have preached hundreds of times between Canada and the US. Over the last 16 years how I approach preaching, how I think about it, and how I do it, is constantly changing and evolving. Since moving to Zambia I have preached twice, and preaching here has been quite a learning experience.

Even within North America there are numerous different cultures and demographics you need to be aware of when preparing and giving a sermon. Depending on who you’re talking to, you need to give attention to things like: cultural references, the jokes you use (or don’t use), illustrations, attire, slang, tone of voice… This isn’t to conform or to please, but rather you don’t want anything needlessly getting in the way of people hearing the truth from God’s word. Preaching should be about the message, not the preachers preferences or personality.

Some of the luxuries of preaching in North America is that there are certain things you can usually depend on. Things like: english being the common language, cultural references (people, places, movies, tv, brands, stores, shared history…), and being able to read people’s body language. But when you enter into a culture that is vastly different from the one you’ve always known, many things have to change.

Language: when I preach I usually get pretty pumped and the speed of my preaching increases. Here in Zambia the national language is english, but not everyone speaks it, and even if they do, we Westerners bring an accent that can be difficult to understand. So I need to choose words properly (common words), I need to slow down, I need to be very mindful of my interpreter (if I have one) and those who are listening. A lack of attention here and the message is gone.

Cultural references: no Buffalo Bills jokes in Zambia. My illustrations here have included things like: football (soccer), describing my successes and failures in learning tonga, and a story of two boys I met who killed a monkey with a sling shot because it was killing their chickens at night. An illustration that makes no sense, illustrates nothing.

Body language: I love so much about Zambian culture. Zambians young and old are very respectful and with the exception of singing in worship, they are much quieter than Americans. So how do you interpret things like silence while preaching? Respect? Language barrier? Boring sermon? This takes time to learn, and the longer we are here the better we are at understanding body language. Thankfully jokes transcend culture and you know if you said something funny.

Mochipapa Pilgrim Wesleyan Church (Choma Zambia)

This is the church I usually attend on weekends as it is just a two minute walk down the road from where I live and the people there are so warm and friendly. Pastor Sichikata asked if I would preach from Numbers 13:21-33 and the focus of my message was fully trusting in the promises of God. It was my first time having an interpreter (Jonathan) who translated the message in tonga. Pausing after every few sentences made it difficult to feel like you are “flowing”, but you get used to it and you really have to focus on staying in the moment.

Never the Same Camp (Kalomo Zambia)

My friend Richman who leads Fortress Ministries in Choma asked if I would speak at a youth camp he and Poetice Ministries (from Michigan) were hosting in Zambia. Here I preached from Proverbs 4:23 where it talks about guarding your heart above everything else. In having been a youth pastor for 11 years, this was such an interesting experience. Preaching to students, just like in America, is completely different from preaching to adults.

* photo’s by Shelagh Murphy.