Christians kidnapped in Africa

We rejoice that our brother Andrew Brunson has been released from a Turkish prison! He was arrested on false charges of treason and imprisoned for two years, because he is a Christian missionary. Now I ask for prayers for two other Christians held against their will: Jeff Woodke and Father Pierluigi Maccalli.

Photo credit: Facebook/Blaise Gaidout

Jeff is an American missionary who was working with the Niger branch of YWAM. He was abducted from a northern village on October 14, 2016, and was only recently confirmed alive. Today marks 2 years since he was taken. Please pray for his safety and health, for the negotiation of his return, and for his wife, Els Woodke.

Photo credit: Society of African Missions

Father Pierluigi is an Italian Catholic priest who had been working in a small village called Bomoanga near the Burkina Faso border since 2002. According to a Niamey newspaper, he was well-loved in the village because he cared for all of their children as his own, feeding the hungry and organizing medical evacuations for those who needed surgeries outside of Niger's limited hospital resources. He had built a small church in the village that was known as the "Basilica of the Poor," and it is said that his door was open 24/7 to those who had need. He was abducted by militants between 9-10pm on September 17, 2018. Please pray that he can return unharmed to his village.

You might wonder, what is SIM Niger's response to such attacks against Westerners? We have two principles: pray, and act wisely. We turn to Nehemiah 4:9, which says, "But we prayed to our God and guarded the city day and night to protect ourselves." We pray AND we post guards. We lock our doors, we don't travel into dangerous areas unless absolutely necessary, we keep an eye out for unusual activity, we register with the US Embassy, we don't go out alone after dark. I'm willing to be here because God has led me here, but I also don't take unnecessary risks. I always appreciate your prayers for my safety, and I pray for you, too; for protection from natural disasters, for an end to the gun violence in Chicago, for safety while traveling. Pray, and act wisely.

Healing changes everything

While I’ve been growing in ability and confidence with my French language study, I’ve been dipping my toes into my ministry here as an occupational therapist by making connections with healthcare professionals and the community of those living in Niamey with disabilities. I want to show you some of the places where great medical care is taking place, and where I hope to find learning opportunities and also pass on my expertise in rehabilitation.

 

Through my mentor Deb, I met Mr. Harouna Ousmane, a coach for the Niger Paralympics team and an advocate for the disabled community. He invited us to come to the games for the International Day of Peace on September 21, particularly to see the handbike races. On a morning that dawned a typical 90°F, the women raced around the soccer stadium three times, and the men, four times, propelled only by the strength of their upper bodies. People, the maximum exercise I’ve done in the Niamey heat is strolling around the stadium two times, okay? I probably couldn’t even make it half a kilometer in a handbike.

The next week, Mr. Harouna Ousmane introduced us to his contacts at the National Hospital, who run a very impressive orthotic/prosthetic clinic, funded by the Red Cross of Geneva. We met Mr. Mohamed, a Moroccan orthotist in charge of the clinic, and Mr. Wage, the physiotherapist for the hospital. There are maybe six other staff working in the clinic, including two leather workers who make custom shoes and specialists in plaster and prostheses. I am hoping to develop a partnership with Mr. Mohamed in the future, so that I can learn more about prosthetics from such an esteemed expert.

For now, I’ve started working in the therapy departments at CURE Hôpital des Enfants au Niger and at Clinique Olivia. On Wednesday mornings, I go to CURE and work alongside their physiotherapist, Sodogaz, and his assistant, Saley. CURE is a pediatric hospital, run by a Christian NGO, and they primarily treat orthopedic conditions like Rickett’s, club foot, fractures, and cleft lip/palate. You can watch a documentary about CURE on YouTube by clicking here: "Modern Day Miracles." (If you don’t want to watch the whole thing, I highly recommend at least the first 6 minutes; you’ll hear the purpose and passion behind CURE and see some footage of CURE Niger.)

Issaka, Greg and Peace working with a patient

On Saturday mornings, I go to Clinique Olivia and work with Issaka, a blind physiotherapist. The Clinique and its nursing/physiotherapy school are supported by a local church and the majority of their staff are African. They have had difficulty finding qualified teachers for the physiotherapy program, but they have a partnership with an American university that will send professors here in January and February of 2019. For the past week we have also hosted Greg, an American PT who visits Niger every year, as he teaches us his skills in assessing and treating orthopedic injuries. I was spoiled because Peace was there to help translate for Greg, which meant I could get away with using translation, too; otherwise, as at CURE, I’m only speaking French with staff and patients. At the end of a few hours, my brain is overwhelmed!

The motto at CURE Niger is “La guerison change tout,” or “Healing changes everything,” and in this culture, it is especially true. Here in Niger, as in Jesus’ time, visible disabilities (whether physical or mental) are generally looked upon as a curse. Disabled people are unclean. Most Nigeriens believe that a child born with a disability or congenital deformity has either been cursed by Allah, the god of Islam, due to some sin the parents have committed, or he/she was cursed by a local shaman, paid by a vengeful neighbor or acquaintance in retribution for some offense the parents committed. As such, the child may be abandoned by his/her parents, or if not, surely shunned by the rest of the village; even if living in a city, people with disabilities are rarely given opportunities to go to school or to work and are often seen living and begging on the streets. Jesus welcomed all of these people into His presence. He touched the untouchables. And when he healed their physical wounds, he made their lives whole again. He changed everything (see Mark 5:25-34, Mark 1:40-45, John 9:1-12, Luke 5:17-39). As a healthcare professional, I can bring the same hope to Nigeriens for physical healing and acceptance into society. As a Christian, I can offer them so much more: the Living Water that forever satisfies, and a new identity as a child of God. I am so thankful for the opportunity to do both here in Niamey.

Home is where the heart is

"Home" means something different to everyone. It certainly takes on a variety of physical appearances. And some people say they come from a certain place, because they were born there, or they spent the majority of their childhood there, so that place is home because it played a significant part in their growing up. But I have been reflecting on the transience of home, in light of the characters of the Bible that struggled to find a place to stay: Moses and the Israelites, Abraham, Joseph, Ruth, David, Jesus, his 12 disciples, Paul, and the majority of the early Christian church who were persecuted and therefore scattered, running for their lives.

Listen to this passage that I've never previously noticed: "After this Paul left Athens and went to Corinth. And he found a Jew named Aquila, a native of Pontus, recently come from Italy with his wife Priscilla, because Claudius had commanded all the Jews to leave Rome. And he went to see them, and because he was of the same trade he stayed with them and worked, for they were tentmakers by trade" (Acts 18:1-3). Paul was called to the life of a roving missionary, but Aquila and Priscilla were called to a life as refugees, due to religious persecution. These misfits made a home together out of mutual love for God, shared careers, and sheer desperation. It makes me incredibly grateful to have arrived in Niamey with 10 trunks of possessions and an apartment waiting for me.

I know that I don't belong here, because many things about the cultures of various Nigerien people groups are so foreign to me, but at the same time it has been a long time since I've felt that I belonged in the United States of America. It probably began with my first overseas trip, to Ireland, in 2007. After that, I visited Egypt in 2008, Spain and Morocco in 2011, Costa Rica in 2013, and Ethiopia in 2014. And nothing "felt right" until I went to Soddo Christian Hospital, and the Holy Spirit whispered to my heart, "This could be home." But one thing led to another, and I'm on a slight detour to Niger before I can make it back to Soddo. But I finally set foot in the CURE pediatric hospital of Niamey two Thursdays ago, and there was a humming, a quickening of my spirit to connect with the Spirit of healing in that place. And I guess I'll never find a sense of belonging again, until I arrive in my heavenly home, but for now, I'm just happy to be a tentmaker with a place to ply my trade, tell my stories, and lay my head at the end of the day.

When it rains, it pours

I'm learning that Niger doesn't do things halfway. When it's hot, it's over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. And when it rains, we get 2.5 inches in a span of 4 hours. When it rains, it pours. Then it floods everything and washes away homes (made with mud and straw), killing both people and animals.

credit Boureima Hama/Agence France-Presse

While I'm thankful for my secure apartment, I also feel like I'm "treading water" in the flood of my current circumstances. I've been struggling with frequent migraines, which seem to be mostly related to the fluctuating humidity, and my friend passed away in the States, and last Monday, I was the victim of a sneaky theft in a taxi. The driver and passenger worked together to distract me so that the passenger could take my wallet and my phone from my purse without my knowledge. It was such a disappointing and frustrating experience. Fortunately, I don't carry anything important on me (no one takes credit cards here, if you can imagine that back in the States!), and I didn't lose much cash. I was even able to recover all of my pictures with my Google account. I will get a new phone next week from a fellow traveler who is returning to Niamey.

I learned from African friends that the incidence of crime around Niamey increases before holidays, such as now before Tabaski (the local name for the Muslim holiday of Eid-al-Adha). It puts a lot of strain on each family to buy the required sheep for sacrifice (between 40,000-60,000 cfa, or $69-104 US equivalent). So, my friends explained, a lot of them turn to theft in desperation, in order to avoid the shame of failing to provide the sacrifice. They were not excusing the behavior, but they warned me to continue to be more vigilant. Speaking of sheep, the local cell phone carriers are holding multiple contests to give away sheep leading up to the holiday on Wednesday. I have not entered any of them, for the record.

When I look at the reason for the holiday, to commemorate Abraham's submission to God's will and celebrate God's provision of a suitable sacrifice in place of Abraham's son, I shake my head in frustration, that some people have twisted the spirit behind the holiday and resort to thievery instead of trusting in God's continued provision. But it is the same with many of our American holidays, is it not?

So what do we do in the flood? We grasp the hand of the One who walks on water. And then we splash in the puddles.

image: "Hand of God" by Yongsung Kim

Goodbye, my friend

Today they are burying my friend in Minnesota, and I am an ocean away. (Here is her obituary.)

I was friends with Wendy for about seven years, since we got to know each other through the Young Adult group at Wheaton Bible, or the class formerly known as Ecclesia. I gravitated toward her warm smile and we found out that we had a lot in common. We both loved our rescue dogs, we were both fascinated by biology and God’s purposeful creation of the human body, we both loved watching movies and were learning to knit, we both had sweet tooths, and we both loved Jesus. We enjoyed going out to eat together… she was famous for ordering a big stack of chocolate chip pancakes! We loved taking our dogs, Stormy and Angel, to Red Mango for frozen yogurt. Wendy was an avid sports fan, especially for the Green Bay Packers and the Chicago Bulls, and you could count on her to know the score of last night’s game. Speaking of games, she had a competitive streak! If you had dominoes, watch out! One of our favorite memories was going to the Cascade Drive-In to see “Wonder Woman”… Stormy and Angel loved it, too! We also went to a couple of Newsboys concerts, since they are her favorite band, and I’ll never forget how we screamed and jumped up and down when we saw their drummer lift up in the air and spin vertically, while drumming to “God’s Not Dead!” I can only imagine that Wendy had about the same reaction when she met Jesus face to face.

Wendy and I were in the same small group for over four years, and when I would give her a ride, we would discuss how our lives were going, our hopes and fears, the difficulties we were facing as we followed our Lord. We could sit in her driveway for an hour after small group just talking. She told me that God had called her to help people by becoming a Certified Nursing Assistant (CNA), and I shared my calling to missions with her. I knew that she had more obstacles to overcome than most, but with her passion for studying medicine and with lots of prayer, she found a fulfilling career. I am humbled by her determination and perseverance through it all. When she told me that she got up at 4am every Sunday in order to work the camera at WBC, I was amazed by her dedication. I will miss our talks in the car, I will miss her smile and her sense of humor, I will miss all of the sweet messages that she would send me to let me know she was thinking about me in Africa, and I will even miss her giggle when she beat me at a game… but most of all, I will miss her hugs. I am not very good at asking for hugs, but that didn’t matter, because Wendy was great at giving them.

This morning, I ate chocolate chip pancakes in her honor.

One day, we will eat them together again, with Jesus our Lord.

God's Providence

Most believers can recite Jeremiah 29:11, although they often take it out of context as a splashy platitude to mark an occasion such as a graduation, anniversary, etc. They might be surprised to learn that the context of this passage is the beginning of the exile of the Israelites to Babylon. Go back to verse 10, where God promises that the exile is going to last for 70 years. Let's put that in a greeting card... "I hope you suffer for 70 years, and then enjoy some benefits at the end." (#adulting) Why would a benevolent God subject His people to such a thing? The answer lies in His providence, His pre-planning and provision for the fulfillment of His ultimate goal. And what is that goal? Americans might be discomfited to realize that the plan is not for us to be content with a fulfilling career, a loving spouse, 2.5 children, 2 luxury cars, and an annual trip to the beach. Reality check: "...God our Savior, ...desires all people to be saved and to come to the knowledge of the truth" (1 Timothy 2:3b-4). So how does God accomplish His plan?
My US pastor gave a great message on Romans 8:28 on June 17th that you can listen to here ("The Promise of Providence"). It brought up both self-reflection and interesting discussion with my French language teacher, Ibro. Here are some of the things we have been discussing:
Do we believers think that we deserve only blessings? Do we say to God, somewhere deep in our hearts, "I gave up half of my Sunday to go to church, so I really deserve for you to bless this project at work on Monday"? Do we lose our faith when prayers aren't answered the way we expected? Do we missionaries count our "sacrifices" in moving to hard places and expect mounds of blessings in return? I admit that missionaries are not immune to pride and comparison--we struggle in varying degrees with the temptation to think to ourselves, "Well, not only did I move to this Third World country, but I can survive here without an air conditioner! Look at these other "soft" missionaries, with their modern appliances! Not me! I'm REALLY COMMITTED to the Lord's calling!" Reality check: all believers are required to be self-sacrificial (Jesus called the disciples away from jobs, family, homes in Matthew 4) and all are required to go through trials (John 16:33). Thousands of believers are suffering and dying around the world today.

Can we trust that ALL THINGS work together for good--for God's plan? Even in discomfort, in grief, in pain?
What we have to remember is that God is never absent--silence doesn't mean absence. John the Baptist and 11 of the 12 apostles, except for John, were violently martyred. Does that mean that He abandoned these faithful ones in their final hours? I don't believe so. God's answer is not always the one we want nor expect, but He is the only omniscient one. He often uses martyrdom as a catalyst for church growth, as we have seen in modern-day Iran following the death of Pastor Haik Hovsepian. Please pray especially that the recent outbreak of violence against Christians in Nigeria will somehow be turned to glorify God. My heart breaks for my Nigerian brothers and sisters who are living in fear, and I pray for the steadfastness of their faith, their hope, their trust in God.
To trust in God's providence in the midst of trials is the refining fire of faith. The verb "to trust" in French is "avoir confiance", literally, "to have confidence in." I am reliant on Jesus and the Holy Spirit to wake up each morning and place my confidence once again in God's hands, not finding any confidence in my abilities, education, position, family, etc., but only in my identity as a daughter of the King.
What do you have confidence in?

Adventures in Language Learning

I’m thankful that I have a good French teacher who has a pleasant sense of humor. He speaks French, Zarma, Hausa and English, and he’s been teaching for many years. But there are some sociolinguistic things that I have to teach him about American English. Like today, I taught him about the art of the “mic drop.”

Each day Ibro will ask me to tell him 2 Bible stories, with as much detail as I can remember, and then he’ll ask me questions about them. Today I told him the creation story and the tale of original sin. After peppering me with questions for a few minutes, he then asked me how I would sum up everything I had told him. I said, “Le peché est grand, mais Dieu est plus grand” (Sin is great but God is bigger) and dropped my pen. Then he laughed and I had to explain how Americans will make a joke (or a profound statement) and then drop the microphone. He loved it.

One of the first English idioms I had to explain was “it will cost your firstborn child,” in the context of American students attending university. Ibro asked, in surprise, if it was normal for a student to pay their own tuition (versus their parents paying for them) and I told him that in my experience, it was very rare for parents to have enough money to pay for the university tuition, so there’s a big problem of student debt in America.

 Anyway, he knew the expression “it will cost an arm and a leg” (il coute la bra et le pie) and I explained that this expression meant it was even more expensive. Then I recounted the story of Rumpelstiltskin to give him further context.

Other discussions about translation have arisen around Biblical terms. For example, I said I would pray, “I will bless the name of the Lord” and he thought I had mixed up the sentence, meaning to say God would do the blessing. We do get into our theology! Last week I tried transliterating a passage of Scripture from English to French, and Ibro was confused by the context. I said that God instructed us to make a joyful noise (in worship, celebration, etc—see Psalms 95, 98, 100) and he said noise couldn’t be joyful. Apparently “le bruit” has a negative connotation in French. So the French Bible I have reads, “Venez, crions notre joie en l’honneur de l’Eternel!” (Come, we are shouting our joy in honor of God, the Eternal!)- Psalm 95:1a.

I make plenty of mistakes when we’re in lessons, but I think the funniest was when I meant to say “she fed the baby” but I said “she ate the baby” (in the context of the story of Moses…oops!!). It just makes me think of the famous line… “You keep using that word. I don’t think it means what you think it means.” I'll push through the blunders, though. I won't give up on French--that would be