That’s the number of days I’ve been illegal in the country. Now finally four days before I leave I’ve got my visa and my peace of mind. Yesterday morning I drove in to Windhoek and went straight to Home Affairs. I found myself on the third floor (where all the important people’s offices are) speaking with a Miss Inge. I was eying the large stamp on her desk that would easily solve all my woes. I explained my situation, then she explained it to someone else, then they called over an intimidating immigration officer who briefly said, “This man is going into custody.” But armed with the prayers of all my friends and the fact that they seemed like they genuinely wanted to help me, the three worked out a situation where I could get a 4 day exit visa and the certain immigration officer couldn’t be held responsible. So I walked out that morning with a stamp in my passport and a spring in my step from such a weight lifted. Praise the Lord!
The rest of the day was filled with visits to old friends in Windhoek that I won’t see again. It was such a blessing to reconnect with some of them that I hadn’t seen in ages. In the evening I picked up Toivo and we went to a youth group meeting at one of the churches that attended the camp I was involved with back in May. In typical African style, I ended up sharing the message about Jeremiah and being a prophet to your own people. Afterward they prayed over me as I’m preparing to leave. The warm-hearted, welcoming African spirit never ceases to amaze me. You can meet someone for five minutes and every time thereafter it’s as if you’d been friends for years. There’s nothing in the States I can quite compare it to except visiting these old-time, country Baptist churches with my singing group in college. That’s one part of this culture that I will miss greatly.
As I write this, I’m about to head out to Gross Barmen Hot Springs with the kids from the Ark for a kind of farewell fun day. After spending so much time with them before, I’m glad I can get in a good full-days worth of quality time before I go. Then it’s final goodbyes and packing on Sunday, and off to the airport on Monday. How time flies!
Two hundred and forty seven
Beginning of the End
It’s official. I’ve started saying my goodbyes. Yesterday was my last volleyball practice. This morning was my last Bible class. 
We finished up talking about how God punished the Israelites by dragging them off into captivity, but He’s merciful and brought them back 70 years later. We talked about how all the stories and all the themes we’ve been talking about all along point to Jesus. When we were finished they asked when I’m coming back to teach them the New Testament. I hope they learned a bit and enjoyed it as much as I did.
My last Scripture Union meeting will be Monday. 
I’ve really enjoyed getting to know this group. They give up their break three days a week to come learn about the Bible. And that’s encouraging because it means they’re taking some responsibility for their own spiritual growth. In this group they’ve found acceptance, friendships, and a place to grow. I’m excited for how God will continue to use them in their school and this community.
Sunday will be my last church service at Arandis Christian Center. This local body has been a great blessing to me during our time here. They’ve embodied what it means to be the family of God. Despite all our differences I can truly call them my brothers and sisters. Their joy, dedication to prayer, and faith in the Lord has been a testimony to me and I’m sure to the community as well. I look forward to how God will grow their influence and spread His light amongst this town.
In a few hours we head off to camp. There’s nothing like a camp for good, quality time with kids. We’ll spend the next 24 hours camping on the beach, hanging at the dunes, and experiencing God together. This will be my last big hoorah with this group of students that I’ve come to love dearly. Pray with me that God will use this time to renew their passion for Him and build lasting relationships between the new and old members.
Welcome answers to prayer
Rainy season in Namibia is supposedly October through March, though you’d never expect it, especially in Arandis. But sure enough, the abnormal dark clouds that canopied the sky all day finally let loose just as we were starting youth group this evening. We all grabbed our chairs and crammed into the living room at the Banda’s house. It only showered lightly for about 10 minutes, but it was enough to know that our prayers from church this morning were heard and answered.
Speaking of answered prayers, I haven’t been very good at keeping you all up on the latest prayer requests. 
Fabiola’s niece, Lawina, has been in the hospital for the last week or so. She was born prematurely 14 yrs ago and has spent more than her share of time in the hospital ever since. I don’t know exactly what was wrong this time, but it was serious enough that she had already given up all hope. But Fabiola went to visit her on Thursday and was reading her portions of the Bible. By morning her swelling had gone down and she was taken off oxygen. She was smiling and said all she wanted was to get better. Praise the Lord for a great answer to prayer, but keep praying for her because she's not out of the water yet.
About a month ago we started planning for our mini-camp next weekend. We budgeted N$3000 to take 30 youth into Swakop for an overnight campout. But recognizing none of the youth can afford to slap down N$100 for a camp we knew we’d need to do some fundraising. With 3 weeks to raise N$3000 we started washing cars, cleaning people’s yards and homes, collecting deposits on soda bottles, and anything else we could think of. We asked God to multiply our efforts and we’re currently sitting pretty at N$2600 with more coming in. You can be praying with us for each of the students who will attend the camp, that God will work in their hearts in ways that we can’t even imagine.
Seasons of Change
The weekend in Okahandja was a great time to refresh and catch up with some old friends. I joined Buddy and Julia at Bible study on Friday afternoon, but since the 10th and 12th graders are in the middle of their final exams, 
they had all gone home early when they finished testing. At church on Sunday I was able to catch up with Jenny a bit who is still waiting to hear from the municipality about getting her own plot. And on Saturday I went to Windhoek to hang out with Toivo and help him work on his personal essay to send out with college applications. He’s doing well, but he says this is his hardest term yet so keep him in your prayers.
I spent Friday afternoon at the Ark playing rug-ball (a combination between rugby and American football) with some of the younger kids. Donavon had been asking me to bring my football ever since our Independence Day braai back in March, so I decided to leave it with him to enjoy. Though I’m certain I’ve doomed it to a life as a makeshift rugby ball.
Much has changed at the Ark over the past two months. Lazarus and Leila, the house parents for the last 3ish years, are moving up north to work with the ministry in Oshikuku. So now the house is being led by foreign volunteers, all female. They’ve made some new rules and disciplinary changes that the kids are getting used to. It’s been tough on many of them and simply reinforces my belief in long-term consistency with kids, especially through such formative years. It’s no wonder many become so hard-hearted and closed off, but it’s something this continent has gotten far too used to.
Saturday evening I was invited back for another boy’s night. The female volunteers, not knowing me from before, asked if I would be ok with the guys by myself. It made me smile realizing that in reality, I was probably more ok than they were. It’s not gonna be fun in a few weeks saying goodbye to the kids for the last time, but God works in seasons. And my prayer is that this won’t be the last season for me to invest in their lives.
One month from today
One month from today I’ll be breathing in the cool autumn air of a New England November day. At 6am I’ll have been awake for hours slowly trying to readjust my internal body clock from the jet lag. I went back and read my blog post from January 4th, a month from my arrival here in Namibia. It’s amazing to think how far I’ve come since then. But once again my thoughts are turned toward home, only rather than missing what I left behind, I’m wondering what I’ll find when I get there.
People continue to ask me if now that I’ve been here a year, am I more inclined to stay? Will I even want to go back? With that departure date looming like a lengthening shadow in the back of my mind, I’m beginning to realize how much of my heart I will leave behind. During a two-week short term trip you learn a few people’s names and leave a photo for them to remember you by. After a year, you learn people’s stories, you experience life together, you walk with them through hurts, rejoice with them in triumphs, and leave a piece of your heart behind. I think that’s what Paul’s getting at when he writes, “We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.”
At the sound of the horn, flute, zither, lyre, harp, pipes, and other musical instruments
In Scripture Union this week I’ve been teaching on Daniel. I only have 15 minutes so it forces me to be succinct and to the point. We’re looking at what it means to take responsibility for your own spiritual growth. Oftentimes students expect that going to church or Bible study will automatically make them good followers of Jesus. I keep reminding them that Boniface and I won’t be knocking on the window when they’re with their boy/girlfriend just to check in. Ultimately it’s their choice whether to serve God or whatever other gods the world sends their way.
Daniel and his three friends offer some great examples for us as they choose to go against the flow to serve God. Their unswerving commitment is impressive, if not inspiring. I love their response to Nebuchadnezzar, one of my favorite in all Scripture, “We know God is able to save us, but even if He doesn’t we still won’t bow to your statue.” Their courage stood not on a guaranteed salvation, but on the character of their God. Outstanding!
Along with the prayer items, I received an encouraging praise note today. Fabiola, Pastor Banda’s wife, has been going through tests for ongoing health problems. Lately she’s felt much better so today’s tests were more for reassurance and just to check. She writes, “Praise God! The doctor was really looking for cancer in his speech and actions and did a mammogram and sonar. God is good; nothing was found, no abnormalities!” Thanks for your continued prayers and support.
Wedding Day
Some days you think you have a plan; others you never see coming. Today, I was on my way to the library to do some writing when I ran into my friend Sam who was coming fresh from the barber shop. Sam and his fiancée are getting married on December 13 and I was sooo disappointed when he asked me to do his photography because I’ll be back in the States by then. It would’ve been an awesome cultural experience and it’ll be a killer party. But alas, I must remind myself like when I left, I’ll always miss out on something.
But this morning, he asked me again. As I was about to remind him that I wouldn’t be here, he said they were having their public ceremony in December, but their official ceremony was at the magistrate’s office in Swakop today. Since I had no plans that couldn’t be rescheduled I jumped at the opportunity. So with enough time to change my clothes and grab my camera, I joined Sam and Boniface to catch a lift into town.
We should’ve known when the rear passenger side door had no handle. And if not that, then it should’ve been a dead give away when none of the windows rolled down, the passenger door didn’t shut right, and you couldn’t open either back door from the inside. But we needed the ride, so after a stop at the Arandis ‘petrol station’ (some guy that sells gas by the 5 liter jug out of his house for an outrageous profit) we were on our way.
Not five minutes down the road the engine died and we coasted to a stop. We climbed out of the stuffy back seat, after someone opened the door for us from the outside, and told the driver, ‘thanks, but we’ll find another ride.’ After we prayed, the very next car was a pickup truck that Providence sent for us. The groom hopped in the front and Boni and I in the back and we were finally on our way.
The ceremony was lovely. They signed a few papers, exchanged rings and kissed, and it was over before a Vambo could eat a fat cake. The next couple in line asked me to take some photos for them too, which was slightly awkward, but hey, now I can say I’m a professional if I get paid for my work, right? :)
So congratulations to Sam and Victoria! I’m super excited for you and wish I could be here on the 13th. I pray for God's continued blessing on your life together.
Marta
The three girls were quite patient and mostly attentive in the hot sun as Eddie and I spoke with them for over an hour concerning the Holy Spirit, hell, Christ on the cross, whether ‘born agains’ could drink or have boyfriends, and whatever other questions came to their minds. We presented God’s good news as clearly as we could and it seemed to me that they understood it. Marta and Sarah both followed Eddie in a prayer to express their belief, while Lucia said she would pray by herself when she got home. We parted ways leaving them with an invite to church on Sunday.
This morning I was excited to see Marta across the room at church, but she split before I could chat with her. I was even more excited to see her at youth group this evening where I could catch up with her. As we shared around the circle about our experiences this week she told us a bit of her story.
She had been involved in a church and in Scripture Union (SU) with Boniface, so she knew some of the other girls in the room. But her father didn’t approve of her religious activities, so she soon began losing interest and started believing some of the lies of the world. Then lately she had just started going back to SU and was feeling like she needed to become born again. That’s when Providence sent her walking past Eddie and me.
It's stories like Marta's that remind a cynic like me that some of the professions of faith are real and that God's been working in people's lives long before I got there and will continue long after I go. Some do the planting, some the watering, but God causes the growth.
I pray that Marta continues coming to youth group and SU where she can grow in understanding and be encouraged by other followers of Christ her own age. I pray that she will be a light to her family and that her father won’t kick her out of the house because of her decision to follow Christ. And I continue to pray for her two friends, Lucia and Sarah, that God will take that seed that was planted and bring it to fruition.
Change for the Hospital
Last night at prayer meeting we weren’t sure if we would have transport to get out to the hospital this morning. We prayed and went home waiting expectantly on God. When Fabiola was visiting with the neighbors later that night they asked her, “So where shall we take you tomorrow?” Not only that, but they lent us their car for the day so we were able to enjoy a nice lunch on the beach after our morning of hard work.
In the hospital we continued to wash and paint the walls in the hallway. Now I know you can’t come paint but I want to challenge you to be a part of this project too! There are costs involved like fuel for transport, cleaning supplies, etc, so Fabiola encouraged me to challenge all of you to donate your change. My proposal is this: at the end of every day through the month of September empty your pockets of change into a jar. When the jar is full take it to the bank to count it and send a tax-deductible donation for that amount to Christ’s Church designated for the Swakop Hospital Project. You can donate online here, send a check to 58 Merrimack Rd, Amherst, NH 03031, or just drop it off at the church. In that small way, your change can help change the hospital!
Or if you prefer, we’re also looking for toys for the children’s ward and books to read to the children. If you have anything appropriate (please nothing worn out or half destroyed) you can try (no promises!) to ship it to Fabiola Banda, Box 475, Arandis, NAMIBIA, or just drop it by Christ’s Church for the next team to bring over. Thanks for your participation, and as always, continue in prayer that as we share God’s love in a practical way, He would open in-roads to share the gospel.
Boy's Night
Saturday night was boys night at the Ark. We kicked all the girls out, blocked off the sitting room, and did some serious guy stuff. I brought my laptop over and we ate lots of junk food and played lots of Super Street Fighter II. Then we settled down with some ice cream to watch one of the ultimate guy movies of all time, Gladiator. Since they usually only get female volunteers at the Ark they always have girls nights where they do girly stuff and watch girly movies. So needless to say, the guys were pretty stoked to finally have a boys night and wouldn't stop reminding me about it the whole week leading up.
Shadows over Chinatown
After hearing Buddy and Julia talk up Chinatown for so long I was pretty excited to go, but little did we know how it would shape the rest of our day. The shopping part was actually pretty cool, sketchy little shops crammed full of mass produces knick-knacks. I found myself a can opener for less than half of what I would normally pay and Buddy found a cool Airsoft gun to shoot the annoying birds that always wake him up early in the morning. On our way out a woman walked up to us with the dreaded news. Buddy ran ahead to see if she was right. I walked with Julia praying the whole way that she was mistaken.
As I came around the corner, Buddy was in the midst of a small crowd looking astonished at the two smashed out windows on the passenger side of the car. They had taken Julia's bag out of the front seat and Buddy's laptop bag out of the back, but by the grace of God there lay mine on the floor underneath my sweatshirt. Fortunately Buddy was on his way to pick up their laptop from the service department so it wasn't in the bag at the time, but still that's no consolation. They lost their camera with all of July's pictures, both their Bibles, Julia's ID and bank cards, and all their computer cables among other things. We spent the rest of what was suppose to be a relaxing day running around to the police station, insurance company, and other stores collecting quotes for what had been stolen. We finally slowed down over some KFC at Todd and Erin's house, some other missionary friends in Windhoek. Then they helped us bag up the windows for the long ride home.
It definitely was not quite the day we had in mind, but it all goes back to what I've said before about the sovereignty of God. If we really believe God is sovereign, we must believe that He's in control of these circumstances. And if I believe God loves and cares for His children then I must believe there's more to this than broken windows and stolen bags. Afterall, who knows where those Bibles will end up. Please keep Buddy and Julia in your prayers, that their insurance company will cover everything, that they can get the car windows fixed promptly, and that this trying of their faith will produce perseverance.
And thanks to all for the birthday wishes.
Towards a solution
I thought I was as angered and heartbroken about entitlement as I could get, but that was before I heard Rosa’s side of the story. Rosa is Jenny’s next door neighbor and also one of Joan’s precious preschool teachers. Joan relayed the story like this…
Rosa came into their Thursday afternoon preschool teachers meeting fuming mad. She proceeded to unload, like pulling the stop out of a hole in a dike. She said her neighbor had a fire the other night, but none of the other neighbors came to help. Rosa was the only one. And as fast as she could pull things out of the house the onlookers were stealing them. They justified themselves by saying, “Well the Americans will replace it all for her anyway.” Those were their exact words. It makes me about as mad as Rosa probably was, but it forces me to analyze how much am I part of the problem, because I know they’re right.
The whole African tribal culture is built around the sharing of resources to help each other survive. When we step in with aid we interrupt the delicate balance of that culture that has survived for centuries without us. There were five white people at her place Wednesday morning helping clean up from the fire. But had we not been there others would’ve stepped in and helped out. Rosa would’ve gladly opened up her own home to let the children stay the night, but the white men took them out of their culture to sleep under his roof. We help replace clothes and mattresses, but truthfully, if we were never there, others would have shared and they would’ve gotten by. That’s the beauty in their culture that we’ll never fully understand.
America is not the savior of Africa. Africa doesn’t need to be saved from themselves. They need Jesus. I don’t know how to say in more forthrightly than that.
Am I suggesting we abandon people to their poverty? By no means! I’m suggesting we work within their cultural framework to help in a way that doesn’t ostracize them from their families and communities. I’m suggesting we point people to Christ, leading them toward a dependency on God, not on white aid. Trials help produce perseverance and faith. When we remove them from their trials, there’s no reason to trust in God. We must walk a road with them, not just give them a car and directions on how to bypass the road altogether. But as frustrated as I get (can you tell??) I must remember I have no perfect solution. And in my efforts towards one, I’m sure I leave my own pile of wreckage in the wake. It forces me to the very same place, total reliance on the Source of all wisdom, which in the end may be the whole point in the first place.
Hope in the Ashes
Most of the morning was spent at Jenny’s pulling zinc panels off charred wooden poles and cleaning up what was left after the fire burnt itself out last night. We managed to fill a good sized bowl full of salvaged beads that weren’t melted together, but that’s about all that was left. Everything else, clothes, food, money, Miriam’s textbooks and school uniform, birth certificates, blankets, photo albums, Jenny’s Bible, all reduced to soot and ashes.
Apparently one of the young girls had knocked over a candle and ran out, but never told anyone about it. Jenny’s room was separated from the main brick house which they started to empty of belongings in case it too caught on fire. None of the onlookers wanted to use their precious prepaid water cards to help put it out, so all they could do was watch everything they had be consumed by the flames.
At twenty-three years old Jenny is the single mother of two small children and taking care of her four younger siblings with virtually no help from their father except for this small plot they live on. This tragedy comes right on the heels of Jenny returning from her cousin’s funeral, the only cousin that helped financially support her and her siblings. Not only that, but the family she helped clean house for moved away last week, so now her sole source of income is from her woodcarving shop. It reminds me of Job, when the next servant came with tragic news before the previous one even finished speaking. All one can do is sit in stunned silence. Does it ever let up?
But as usual, God raises hope from amidst the ashes. We’ve been talking with Jenny for a while about moving on to her own plot to free her from the authority of her father (since it’s his plot, abusive relatives wander in and she has no authority to kick them out). There’s also talk of Hope’s Promise helping support her as a foster parent for her siblings. These all sound like very good options, but we must be very careful wading through the muddy waters of dependency and entitlement hoping to find a better solution on the other side. Whenever whites “swoop in” to “rescue” the Africans things can quickly become very dangerous. So please pray for much wisdom for all involved. Pray that we would follow God’s leading and not force our agenda on to Jenny and her family. Pray that God would continue to provide, and for us all to trust that He ultimately knows what’s best. Pray that Jenny wouldn’t be ostracized from her family by getting Social Services involved. And pray for unity in the body where philosophies of ministry heavily collide.
Toivo Time
I got to spend some time with Toivo yesterday. He finished with his exams last week so now he’s on winter break. He told me he thought he did well overall except maybe math and science. He’ll get his marks on August 10th so then he’ll know for sure. Now that he’s done with 11th grade, next year he’ll go on to a two year “college prep” course. During break he’ll be working at the Okahandja hospital (since he wants to be a doctor). He said he’ll probably just be cleaning floors taking orders from somebody, but at least it’s a start. But he can’t wait to take a couple weeks off and join our team when they come in July.
Prayer Updates
I was catching up with Jenny yesterday, who had just returned from her cousin’s funeral, when she told me some sad news. After the funeral she had sent her baby daughter Queen to live with a relative in South Africa because she couldn’t afford to keep her. The cousin that died had helped support Jenny and her siblings financially, so without that extra income things will only get harder. Also the family Jenny was cleaning for has moved so she’ll be totally relying on her unpredictable income from the woodcarving shop. Continue to pray for Jenny, that this testing time would increase her faith and reliance upon God rather than man, that God would continue to provide for their daily needs, and that perhaps that provision would come through their father who would man up and take responsibility for his own kids.
I also got to catch up with Sylvia this morning at our woodcarvers Bible Study. She’s doing well, no physical ailments lately. Her two sons have been sponsored to stay at the school hostel which has its pros and cons. They will be well fed and forced to study more, which is important for Clinton who is in grade 10 (If students don’t pass their grade 10 exams then they can’t go on to grade 11). But it also means Sylvia will only get to see them at church and on long weekends when the hostel sends them home. It also means Carina has to stay home with Deborah, the youngest sister, until Sylvia gets home from the market, so she can’t come to our school Bible Study. So they’re continuing to trust in the Lord and He’s continuing to provide. Thanks so much for your prayers on their behalf.
Six months
It’s hard to believe that I’ve already been here for six months. Looking back it seems like I’ve come such a long way, but it still feels like I have so much to learn. (How to deal with these stinkin mice in my ceiling for instance!) Being on the “foreign” mission field has given me an entirely different perspective on what it means to be a missionary at home and also helped me understand how to be a more effective foreign missionary. It’s grown my appreciation for and sensitivity to other cultures as well as revealed the arrogance of my own. And most of all it’s forced me to rely on God in a practical, not just theoretical, way.
But there’s still so much to learn. I’m looking forward to the team coming in July so I’ll get to experience our short-term missions trip from the other side. What is it like having a team come interrupt my regular schedule? How is it they add to my ministry while they’re here? What’s the impact they leave behind after they go? These were some of my main questions when I first came, so I am quite looking forward to the learning opportunity.
Jenny
After two long travel days we finally made it back to Okahandja yesterday afternoon. We had some time to visit the woodcarvers market to do some souvenir shopping at the renown Okahandja Woodcarvers Markets. So while the team shopped, I stopped in to see my friend Jenny whose shop is her primary source of income.
Jenny was one of the members of Buddy’s Bible Study at Okahandja Secondary School back when she was in school. Her eleventh grade sister Mariam is part of our Bible Study now. When their parents divorced, their father left and their mother moved back to her family in Rundu. Being the oldest responsible sibling, Jenny is left to take care of her younger brothers and sisters as well as her own baby. They still live in their parents house, but between food, school fees, and everyday expenses, the woodcarving shop and a weekly housecleaning job is what helps them scrape by.
After exchanging pleasantries at the market, Jenny told me she was leaving for Rundu today. Her brother’s family was in a car accident and he and his wife both died; she didn’t know about the children. Visibly upset, she begged me to ask my American friends to come buy from her shop. Aside from regular expenses, a trip to Rundu (almost to the border of Angola in the north) for the funeral would be quite expensive. And on top of that, this brother helped pay for Mariam’s school.
It was one of those moments that kind of sucks your breath out. Jenny’s one of those good people who has taken initiative and responsibility, someone you want to cheer on and root for. Then just at the moment where it felt like she was doing well, when things were starting to look up, something like this comes out of the blue to knock her down again. Please keep Jenny and her baby, Queen, in your prayers as they travel up to Rundu for the funeral this weekend. Pray that Jenny will be a light to her family and know the peace of God during this emotionally trying time. And pray that God would continue to prove Himself faithful in providing for her and her siblings.
Intro to Himba culture
Itinerary for next weeks Outreach: Tomorrow we’ll drive as far as Outjo. On Sunday morning we’ll minister at a local church, then head up to Etosha where we’ll spend the night. After a game drive on Monday morning we’ll share at an assembly in the Okaukuejo school, then head back to Outjo for the night. Tuesday will be our 400km drive up the western edge of Etosha into what’s known as the Kaokoland. We’ll make our way to the small town of Opuwo where we’ll spend the rest of the week ministering in local schools and villages.
It is in the desolate environment of the Kaokoland that the ovaHimba people have lived in quiet isolationism for centuries allowing them to preserve their traditional way of life amidst a modernizing continent. The Himbas are semi-nomadic pastoralists, which means they don’t settle in one specific village, but move around dependent on good grazing lands for their goats and cattle. Traditional Himbas live in mud huts, wear only an animal skin skirt around their waist, live off the land, and worship their ancestors. However, this traditional lifestyle is being threatened by the modernizing culture around them. As children are more exposed to technology and living comforts they move away for work or school in more urban areas. Many never return.
Fortunately, most of the Kaokoland has been registered as a conservancy which allows the Himba people to monitor and regulate wildlife and tourism on their lands. With the help of environmentalist groups they’ve successfully blocked attempts to build a dam on the Kunene River which would flood much of their ancestral grazing grounds. So despite the changing culture, the Himbas are finding a way to carve out a niche for themselves to prevent the extinction of their simple way of life.
Along with modernized culture, the Himba people have been largely isolated from Christian missions. Japie, the OM team leader, estimated that there may be only 100 Christian Himbas in the whole region. Most of their religious rituals involve the worship and appeasement of their ancestors. This is why we go to Opuwo, to take the good news of Jesus Christ to people of every tribe, especially those forgotten by the rest of the world.
Chances are this will be my last post until we return the following Monday, unless some Himba village happens to have an internet café hut that I could make use of. But don’t worry, I’ll take good notes in my journal so I can fill you in when I get back. During the next week please be in prayer for safety as we travel, especially on the gravel roads. Pray for the people we will interact with, that God will prepare their hearts and give us the right words to say. And please pray, not to be funny at all, for all the guys on the team including me, that the Lord would guard our hearts and minds as we minister in a largely topless culture.
Asanias (Mariental Part 2)
I taught some fundamentals then we started to play around a bit. We took a break halfway through to explain who we were and why we were there. I told them how there was nothing they could do to earn God’s acceptance, and that Christ’s death on the cross paid the penalty that we deserved. I shared a little of my story, and Chris Johannes, my partner, shared a little of his story. Asanias was particularly attentive, but it was Chrisly who raised his hand when we asked if anyone was interested in accepting Christ right then.
At the evening session, we couldn’t get my guitar working so I was sulking again at how useless it felt to be there, but forcing myself not to let that ruin what God had for me, I went down to help with the counseling after the altar call. As I was walking around helping hand out Bibles I saw one of the older teens from our group talking to Asanias. That morning he had said he would come back for the session but I had forgotten to look for him. When I caught him afterward he told me, “I took Jesus. I’m free today.” Praise the Lord!
I got to chat with Asanias one last time when he stopped by our compound Sunday night while we were waiting to leave for Windhoek. It’s not my job to know how sincere people are in their hearts, but it is my responsibility to sow the seed. I showed Asanias that there was at least one person who loved him enough to come all the way from America to hang out and play some volleyball and share the gospel with him. I may never know where that seed ends up, but that was never my job in the first place. Our job is simply to share the message. It’s God that changes people’s lives.
If you think of it, say a prayer for Asanias as he goes back to his drunk parents and friends that encourage him to steal. He has an uphill battle ahead of him, but with God all things are possible.
Youth Camp - Day 3 and 4
As I was walking in the dark Tuesday night, after everyone had gone to bed early, I came across two ladies filling tin cans with sand. I inquired into this unusual behavior and they told me they were going to wake all the kids up for a little midnight snack of cookies, chips, and roasting marshmallows over candles. “We wouldn’t want them to think we’re too normal,” they said. What a great youth ministry motto!
Wednesday night was the camp ‘talent show’. Each of the teams put together a drama. There were some dances, lots of songs from hip hop to reagge to old Afrikaans hymns, and one American shilumbu (white person) with an acoustic guitar. 
At their invitation I gladly joined in and shared For The Moments I Feel Faint by Relient K. When I got to the line “I think I can’t, but I think You can” the whole place erupted. As an encore I got them to join me in singing You’re So Good. It was really a cool moment for me as all these kids that I’ve been getting to know through volleyball and just around welcomed me in as one of their own. No matter how different I look or my musical style, we still worship the same God.
This afternoon we caravan down to Windhoek where we’ll catch a train to Mariental. We’ll arrive about 2am when we’ll move into our accommodations and catch some sleep before a full day of setting up for the weekend. Unfortunately there’s no place to lock up valuables so Dieter suggested I don’t bring my camera. That’s gonna kill me all weekend, but it will make sure I get out from behind my lens and enjoy the experience. It also means I won’t get to update you all until I get back. Please pray for the weekend, for tender hearts in the people of Mariental, courage and boldness for the youth and the rest of the team from Emmanuel, and safety during our travels and everything else. Thanks so much and have a blessed weekend!
