Sunday Worship

Dr Sammy, as we affectionately call him, asked me to preach on Sunday. This was a singular honor given that I have very little knowledge of the culture. Rule #1: don't use any basketball illustrations.

I preached on the Parable of the Prodigal Son, which I told them was an awful title since there are two sons and both of them are terribly lost. And this is the third in a series of three parables which Jesus tells to the Pharisees and scribes when they are scandalized that he is hanging out with sinners. (Of course, I didn't say, "hanging out.") And in each parable there is great rejoicing when the lost is found.

The service started early with lively African praise music. Hard to miss with all the windows open. As team members arrived we were escorted to the front row, which was a bit embarrassing. (Back at home I much prefer to sit towards the back among the people.) But I was still able to see folks worshipping from my slot front and center; half the church came up front and started dancing. The Norwegian gene is obviously missing from the Turkana gene pool. There was dancing and jumping and clapping and ululating all to the glory of God and joy at being in his presence and in the presence of his people. A whole new take for Steve-Martinesque Americans on "in your presence there is fullness of joy."

The offering was an interesting affair, also. A huge wicker basket was set out. Dalmas, the on-site director, told the correspondence about giving to the Lord. He joked that if they had nothing to give, they could give themselves; the basket was plenty big! Then everyone (well, almost everyone) danced toward the front as the music played) and put their offering in. I've been looking for new ideas to take back to Stoughton.

I preached for an hour and a half. Sammy had told me to preach for 45 minutes which would double with the interpreter. Anything less than 60-90 minutes and they would feel shortchanged. So I gave them half of what they were used to. There is a hunger for the Word of God; no one raced out early for a Packer's game.

Bible Pathways Pastors' Training

We've now had two days of training with the group of around 12 Turkana pastors (Saturday and Monday). They have come in from their villages to learn how the study the Bible better along, with the process of putting together exegetical messages which really reflect what the text says.

These are some really great guys. They love the Lord and his Word and have come from all over the Turkana region as far as the borders of Ethiopia, Southern Sudan and Uganda (there are a million Turkana spread over a wide region). And these guys are sharp. Most of them are trilingual. Many of them speak excellent English.

And they minister in the most austere situations: villages surrounded by very little vegetation, often no toilets and very limited access to water. It's winter here and it's been 90 - 100 degrees each day. Many of them are sleeping on mats on the ground.

The first day when we each introduced ourselves, they would say in the lilting tones of African English: "I am Moses, husband of one wife. I have seven children.” ”I am Joseph" (we have for Josephs in the class), husband of one wife... " And they're serious about the one wife deal. Turkana culture has traditionally been polygamous. Old men accumulate wives of different ages, even as young as twelve. You can imagine the abuses. This has been progressively changing as the gospel has advanced. While there is a long way to go in this very patriarchal society, the dignity of women had been hugely elevated.

It's been such a blast to work with these guys in the text -- to hone in what it is and isn't saying, to wrestle a passage down to its essential core that faithfully summarizes the message in a single statement. We gave them each a small whiteboard and markers as a gift to use as they train other pastors, and for use with their congregations. They clapped when we told them.

Dalmas, the leader of the ministry here, says this training is exactly what the pastors and their churches need. The African (and Turkana church) is growing and passionate, but not at all grounded in the Word. It is the systematic and accurate teaching of God's Word that is needed to take people deep and root them in their faith, to combat the false teachers who snatch people away, and the witch doctors that spread such fear.

Lodwar

The terrain below becomes barren as we approach Turkana territory. Sunlight glints through a substantial gap in the Emergency Exit. Last time I fell through the open door of a plane at 14000 feet, I was strapped to a guy. And he was wearing a parachute.

We come in low over Lodwar, this former Trading Post in the forbidding but beautiful landscape of the Lake Turkana region. There's a mix of thatch huts and block dwellings beneath us. We're down.

This is Turkana. Home to the Turkana people. These wonderful people.

We are greeted with hugs and great warmth by the SHARE staff. Their smiles are expansive. If Jesus had visited them (and he has), they couldn't have been happier.

After piling into the back of a truck we alternate between paved and dirt roads for the short drive to the SEND Center. Dust is everywhere, blanketing even the trees. It hasn't rained in some time. But the drab landscape is offset by the blazing-bright colors of the Turkana people we pass, many of whom are wearing traditional dress.

The Center is an oasis in a dry and thirsty land. We have breakfast, welcome, unpack and have a brief "jet lag” rest before lunch and orientation.

Then it's worship with the staff and missionaries and pastors. Oh what singing and rhythm and passion. Even as a drummer, among these people I feel like uncoordinated Steve Martin trying to clap to banjo on "The Jerk."

Forget The Lion King... These people are in the presence of the King of kings, and they're taking me there.

I have never met them before and this is a strange land. But even in the strangeness, I feel like I have somehow come home.