Meeting the Sponsored Children; Ryan first.

(Posted by Dave). Ok everyone’ go easy on me, as this is my first attempt at ‘blogging’. I am not quite the prolific writer, typer, or speller as ‘Edger Alan Ryan’ or as they call him in Africa; “Lion” or “Wwwwwwwyan” because the ‘R’ is not used.

Monday, was the day for Kelly, James and Ryan to see their sponsored children (I and Lisa have two World Vision (WV) children in other countries). This was Kelly and Ryan’s first time meeting their children and they were both pretty excited, and I sensed, a bit nervous as well. The three got a quick presentation by the local World Vision ADP (Area Development Program) in Yaumagobie (sp?), to learn how WV is making a positive impact on their child, the child’s family and the local community. While they were doing that, Samantha and I drove to a local market to buy some ‘gifts’ for the sponsored family of the children. Wow’ what an experience! We got some fabric, sugar, beans, seeds, soap and some plastic plates and cups. We were the center of attention. As I got out of Land Cruiser, about 10 ‘street kids’ immediately surrounded and staring at me as if I were an alien as they shouted “mazunga” “, meaning ‘white person’. They looked like they had not bathed in months and their clothes were filthy dirty and, had holes and rips in them. I brought out a frisbie and tossed it around with them before giving it to one of them before we left.

We got to drive to the sponsored children’s homes; Ryan’s first. James stated that in past trips, the children were all brought to a local area park to meet, so this was special. I opted to be the ‘official video and photographer for the day’ since I did not have a sponsor child to meet. It was so awesome as Ryan walked down the muddy, steep hill to the house to meet his child and family. They had also been looking forward to this day for over two months. There was nothing but hugs and smiles for the first couple of minutes as they met at the threshold. We had a WV translator with us, and they were able allow Ryan, child, mother and father to communicate. Ryan was able to learn a great deal about them and them about him. They had heard about New York city and had many questions. There was much that happened in the next half hour: a tour of the house, seeing their crops, petting their cow, goat and giving the gifts we had brought. But what really happened in my observation was a connecting of hearts and two worlds separated by 12,000 miles. Ryan’s boy would not leave his side as he held a new soccer ball on his lap Ryan had given him. That’s like gold here! The parents could not stop smiling and reaching out to grab hold of Ryan’s hands saying over and over; “sawaa” “sawaa” which means ‘thank you’ in Kinyarwandan; the common language of Rwanda. Through the translator, Ryan was able to lead us all in a prayer of thanksgiving and also ask for God’s protection, favor and blessing on his new found ‘family’. He was visually deeply moved by the impact his ‘little’ monthly financial commitment had made on this family a half a world away.

As we made our way back to the Land Cruiser, James was antagonizing the nearby goats with his ‘baaaaaaaaing’ at them. He honestly does sound like a real baby goat! I think it agitates them seeing a 6’7 mazunga speaking their native goat tongue language.

By this time about 25 nearby adults and children had gatherer near our vehicle and had ben curiously observing the happenings. As we got in to drive away, EVERYONE was smiling and waving to us. In our world, these people has ‘nothing’ as it relates to the “civilized world” in the form of ‘material possessions’. However, what they did have was something to be desired: a grateful heart, a committed husband, father, wife and mother, children that had joy, and a simple faith that Jesus Christ is their God, Savior and supplier of all their needs. We were all so happy for Ryan and his new family.

James, the gentle giant

James Leonard is one of my best friends. We don’t often get to see each other, but whenever we do, we start laughing right away like little school boys. James’ wife Elizabeth always gets a kick out of it (that’s putting it nicely), and knows that when I’m around, she doesn’t have to do much entertaining.

James and I met when Elizabeth brought him to a Bible study group that Elizabeth and I were attending, and she asked me what I thought of him. Elizabeth and I had been friends for many years at that point, and she had never asked me about a guy, so when she asked what I thought of this tall tall man, I knew she was serious about him.

At first, I just thought he was goofy (and she hates that that was my reaction….sorry E!), but it also only took James and I about 5 minutes to start laughing together for me to know that she had a keeper, and that I had a new friend.

We’ve been laughing ever since.

James is one of those guys who everyone likes. I can honestly say that he’s one of the kindest and friendliest people I’ve ever met. He’s 6’7″ tall, and so he’s hard to miss. But his size belies his gentleness. He truly is like a gentle giant, who you just sometimes want to wrap up and squeeze.

He is rarely without a smile, and has the ability to diffuse just about any awkward situation you could imagine. We had enough of them in Africa, and James was always there to make someone smile.

He has devoted much of his ministry over the last 6 years to Rwanda, and helping the people there in whatever ways they need. He is always thinking of new ways to help, and new things to do.

When the Bishops met with us on our first night in Rwanda, they greeted James like an old friend. Clearly, James had made an impact on them on his last visit. That just seems to be the norm with James. Everywhere you go, people love him. It’s a quality that is impossible to miss, and one that we all would benefit from experiencing.

During the entire trip, wherever we went, he greeted people with a smile that told them, “I am a friend”. James led us like a pro, and never was without an answer when we encountered hurdle after hurdle. Nothing seemed to discourage him, and every new person he met seemed to leave a another one of his best friends. I guess that’s his secret. He treats everyone like a vest friend, and so his friends now span the globe.

You can see the joy in his life just by meeting him. He physical presence dominates the room, but the passion for life that he has dwarfs even that. James looks at every opportunity as a chance to show people the love of God, but he does it simply by loving them, exactly where they are.

During the trip, I had to share a very deep hurt that I had been carrying for the entire week, and though each of the guys received it with love and understanding (they really did…what a blessing), James immediately reflected about a mutual friend of ours who had gone through a similar situation, and his words immediately comforted me. He was so gentle and careful, yet looking back, he was just being James.

If you ever want to meet him, take a gander down to Trinity Baptist Church on 61st street one Sunday, and you won’t have a hard time spotting him.

I often joke with James that Elizabeth was “kind” to marry him, because she’s about the most talented person I’ve ever met. However, as I’ve gotten to know them both more over the years, it’s clear to me that they both are overwhelmingly blessed to have the other one, because they each are two of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. Elizabeth, you are a blessed woman to have been put together with this wonderful man.

I know that this is true…I was blessed when James Leonard came into my life, and I look forward to many many more years with him as my dear friend.

After spending time with these three men, as well as Andrew, Emmanuel, Elias and the wonderful people of Rwanda, I come back to NYC a better man. I have seen God at work in each of these men, and I wonder why He chose me to be blessed with their presence.

Kelly Boyle

As the trip went on, I wasn’t able to blog as much as I wanted to. Things just got so busy and full of scheduled events, when we got back to the hotel each night, we were exhausted, and writing just got too difficult. Particularly after the mountain climb, I simply was drained, and words escaped me. I’m now trying to go back to record each day, but it’s proving difficult. I have many more posts I’d like to make, but am afraid I won’t be able to post them all, and for that, I am sorry. I hope to be able to talk to all of you in person about my time in Africa, and I’ll do my best to cover everything that happened.

However, there is one post that I have been thinking about for awhile. Of all the things I’ve experienced, people I’ve met, and victories I’ve won, there is a single person that has affected me more than anything.

His name is Kelly.

Kelly Boyle is married to James’ sister Heidi, so James and Kelly have known each other for quite some time. I did not get to bond with Kelly in the same way I did with Dave, or nearly as well as I am already bonded with James.

However, Kelly affected me nonetheless.

Kelly Boyle loves the Lord. If you know him for only a few minutes, you will know that one thing. He is not shy about his faith, yet he is in no way preachy or offensive or in your face. He simply has a passion for Jesus that cannot be ignored.

Kelly grew up not knowing God, but came to know Him only a few months before meeting Heidi. They met, fell in love, got married, and now have 3 beautiful children. Kelly has the same problems in his life and marriage that everyone has, and in no way presents his life as “perfect” in any way. However, his composure and conpassion for others seems to know no bounds. He looked out on the poorest of poor streets in Rwanda and expressed wonder and praise for how amazing God was, and how God had created all these people who were different than Kelly, yet still who were God’s children. It seemed to make Kelly fall in love with God even more.

Kelly never failed to say “thank you” or offer encouragement to everyone he met. His enthusiastic joy when talking to anyone was overwhelming. He would constantly tell people what s good job they were doing, or ask them about their lives. He had a selflessness that was like nothing I’d seen. He was always looking for opportunities to affirm other people, and ask them about themselves.

And when Kelly talks about his wife, it’s often just like any other husband. They get along, they fight, they agree, they disagree. However, he said something to me about his wife that I will never forget.

“Heidi is the best person I’ve ever met”.

Here’s a man who has been married for many years, has 3 kids and has gone through trials just like everyone else. Yet when he thought of his wife, he thought of the best person he’d ever met.

Wow.

The moment I knew for sure that Kelly was someone that I wanted to “be like” was on the last day of the trip. We had about 12 hours to kill in Tanzania before our 10:30pm flight, and our tour guide company offered to take us around the city, and store our bags for us. That was very helpful, as we’d otherwise just have to sit for 12 hours at the airport.

We went around to shops and bought gifts for ourselves and our loved ones, and also got about as dirty as we’d ever been (dirt roads everywhere). When it was time to head to the airport, we went back to the hotel that was storing our bags, loaded up the truck, and headed for the airport. About 10 minutes into the trip, Kelly noticed that he didn’t have his carry-on bag, and if asked if any of us had packed it. None of us could remember seeing it.

So we went back to the hotel, and we looked everywhere.

It was gone.

We spent over two hours looking for it and discussing the situation with the hotel and Andrew (our tour leader), and figuring out what to do. Kelly was 100% sure that he had put it in the strorage area, which meant the only logical conclusion was that someone had taken it.

All of us were just devastated. We had just had one of the most significant trips in our lives, and enjoyed a relaxing last day, were taken care of wonderfully by Andrew and his company, had had our mountain porters come join us for part of the day just so they could say goodbye, and now this. It took the wind out of our sails, and and we all felt horribly for everyone involved.

But what I noticed, more than anything, was how Kelly handled the situation. He didn’t yell, he didn’t lose his cool, he didn’t accuse anyone unjustly, and he didn’t escalate an already uneasy situation. He had just lost more than $1000 worth of equipment, yet he calmly but firmly kept stating his case, and telling Andrew what had happened. I kept putting myself into his shoes, and I could imagine myself losing my cool and making rash decisions. I could see myself getting frustrated when no one would offer any solutions.

But not Kelly. He just kept calmly explaining what had happened, and never created a hostile situation. He never made anyone else defensive. In fact, I’m sure his attitude made the hotel and Andrew feel even worse (becausse Kelly was such a nice guy), and make them want to help even more.

Andrew was a fellow Christian, and when we realized we had to leave, Kelly quoted a Bible verse that I think Andrew recognized, which talked about God worked things out in His own perfect way, even if we often don’t understand those ways. Kelly ended up comforting Andrew. Andrew seemed devastated, and after our anger subsided, we realized that Andrew maybe felt worse than anyone.

I tried to express to Kelly how impressed I was with him, but I don’t think I did a great job. It was one of those situations where you just had to be there, and feel how easily things could have gotten ugly. Seeing Kelly handle that situation taught me about the peace that he has inside of him.

Over the last 36 years, I’ve learned that life is sometimes more about how you handle surprise, than it is about anything else. Life can seem great when things are going our way, but often when things seem to turn against us, we fall apart. I know I do.

Kelly Boyle did not. He took it in stride, and did his best to resolve the situation, and when no solution could be found, he quoted Scripture and moved on.

Heidi, if you are reading this, I know you have probably seen Kelly at his worst, as well as at his best. But yesterday, he represented you, the kids, and God about as well as I’ve ever seen. I will pray that you will get to see that in him regularly when he returns.

Thank you Kelly, for helping me see what a great man can look like. Thank you God for putting me on a trip with not only James, who has been one of my best friends for many years, and also with Dave who I connected with maybe more than anyone, but also, thank you for allowing me to meet Kelly Boyle. What a gift.

The Pulpit and Dave

We all woke up Sunday morning well rested and ready to begin our journey in Rwanda. We were scheduled to have breakfast at 8am, and then leave for the church service at 9am. Kelly, James, Samantha and I arrived at breakfast at 8am, and Dave came about 15 minutes later.

When we sat down, we all looked at him and said, “Hello, pastor!” He had no idea what we were taking about. Sam explained to him that the Bishop took him seriously the night before, and would expect him to preach.

Gulp again.

Suddenly, it hit Dave. He tensed for a moment, but then relaxed, and knew that he would have to do what he’d have to do. He seemed to “kick into gear” in that moment, and started thinking about what he might share.

When we got to the church, Dave was taken into the back room and fitted with a white robe. This was really happening. Dave was going to preach in an Anglican church in Africa, even though Dave had zero preaching experience in his life.

The church service seemed to start informally before it’s 10am scheduled start time. We heard singing and dancing inside the building, though we stayed outside talking with the pastor and greeting other church members. All the people who came had the same physical reaction to us…long wonderous stares.

White people are called “Muzungo” (sp?) in most rural areas of Africa, and they are treated like superstars. This doesn’t happen nearly as much in the cities, though you still get stared at. When you drive down the country roads though, everyone stops and looks, as if the president is driving by. If you wave, they wave back, and often get a giddy smile on their faces. Shouts of “Muzungo! Muzungo!” fill the streets, as if to let the others know to stop what they’re doing, and look up. When James told us ahead of time that many people had never seen a white person before, we didn’t really know what that meant.

Now we knew.

The Rwandans who had never seen a white person were simply meerized by our skin and hair. It was as if aliens had landed in their world, and they couldn’t look away. The interesting thing for me was that there seemed to be no malice or negative judgement in their stares, just awe.

Growing up in downtown Detroit, which is about 85% African American, it was not unusual or odd blacks to be the majority demographic. Additionally, my father was African American, though he was light-skinned, so my inner identity has always been split between white and black, and I’ve actually always felt mote comfortable in the black world than the white one. However, in America, when a black person is staring at a white person, or vice versa, there is often some judgement or fear or deep subtext behind the stare (though that is of course not always the case). Here in Africa, there was none of that when the locals fixed their eyes on us. It was as if they just wanted to touch us, and hear our voices, and see how we were different than they were, and how we were the same, though they could not imagine us bring the same as them at all. In rural Africa, there seems to be a widespread belief of inferiority as compared to whites. It’s something that is just accepted, without anger. It just is. It saddened me to learn this, though I wasn’t sure how to combat it. They were fascinated by us, and it drew us closer to them, and in some ways diffused much of our own trepidation of meeting new people, and in such a strange land.

10am approached, and we walked into the santuary, and saw a worship service like no other. The children were singing and dancing just before the steps to the alter, all of them praising God wildly. We had no idea what they were saying specifically, but the message was loud and clear. All of us had experienced pentacostal or very spirited worship services before, but to me, this was different. Their joy seemed genuine in a way that my own soul longed for, and we suddenly became the ones who were staring. I’m sure all of us had a desire to go up and sing and dance with them, but we stayed in our seats nonetheless.

Let me say here that I must speak for myself in regard to my reaction to the service. Though the 4 of us are brothers “in Christ”, we all have different backgrounds in regard to church services. Even amongst Christian believers, differences in the churh can stir the passions, and cause great rifts. Therefore, I will try to sum up the experience for all of us, but also concede that Kelly, James and Dave may have seen things quite differently.

When the worship died down, the service began. It was a traditional Anglican service (very liturgical), and we had two translators on either side of us keeping us informed as to what was being spoken. As we sat, the kids all around us turned and stared, some for the entire service. Traditional Anglican church services sometimes last all day, sometimes 3-4 hours, sometimes more. Apparenently the pastor knew that Americans were not used to this, so he kindly kept the service to 2 hours. I wondered however, what it said about me that worshipping God all day long was “too long”.

Hmmm…

Other than the length, it seemed that the only other signifcant difference between this service and my home Anglican church service in NYC was the worship aspect. When a song would begin, it was always led by the children (teenagers), and there was a spirit within them that is hard for me to describe. It was hard to grasp that children who lived in such squalor could be so genuinely thankful to God, and express it with a joy that was almost not containable. Once again, the Lord had brought me to a place that forced me to look inside myself, and ask hard questions. This time I questioned where my joy was. I had no answer, though I recognized it when I sat and watched these children sing to God.

I wanted this church to come to NYC and minister to all the broken people there, including myself, and many of my friends. What I’m seeing practically is that the joy of the Lord does not come in a set flavor. It crosses all races, all peoples, all demographics, and all lands.

If I could take anyone who is reading this post to one place in Africa, it would be this church, regardless of your faith background or beliefs.

That said, the church had problems just like American churches and religious institutions. Many Rwandans went there just for the music, but would leave as soon as the Gospel was spoken. In fact, one of the songs that the children sang asked people to stay past the music, to hear the Good Word. It was a solemn song, full of beauty and expression (with choreography), and once we knew what they were saying, it became even more meaningful. It was good for me to see that, and know that church problems are everywhere.

About 30 minutes into the service, the pastor asked us to come up front and introduce ourselves. We filed into a row, and said our names and where we were from, one by one. Our translator relayed our messages to the congregation. James told them about his previous visits to Rwanda, and that he had asked this church for specific prayers, which had since been answered. He thanked them, and they seemed overjoyed, and erupted into applause. Kelly told them about his family, and his wife and children. Family is big here, and anytime it is mentioned, the people smile. Dave told them about his wife and family as well, and that he was honored to have been asked to preach. Their reception of him I’m sure eased his nerves considerably. They were so happy to hear our words. I told them where I was from (Detroit), and that my mother still lived there. I told them that my father had passed away, and that he was African American. The translator seemed shocked to hear of my father’s race, and the congregation did not know how to react (they were silent). I’m sure they didn’t understand what he meant, looking at a man with fair white skin. There is little to no mixed races in rural Rwanda. Everyone is dark skinned, which is different than in most of America. I learned later that the fact that my father had died probably made more of an impact on them than his race, because they often do not think that Americans or white people ever suffer, but when they hear of death, they can relate.

So, we ended our introductions, and it was time for Dave to give his message.

And oh what a message he gave.

It was like he had done it a million times before. He got up there and thanked them for having him, and then told them how beautiful it was to see them all there. His cadence was steady and sure, and he did not hesitate or search for words. He used his hands and arms, expressing as much with his body as with his mouth. He talked about our shared faiths, and how we are all the same, even if we look different and live half way across th world. After each phrase, he would pause to let the translator repeat his words in the Kinyanwandan language. The translator was just as expressive as Dave, as if he was not only presenting the words, but also the feeling. It was like watching two dancers perform an oft-rehearsed routine, and one that everyone loved to hear. We all watced in wonder as God guided Dave’s words to reach these people. We kept looking at each other, in awe of his composure and ease in front of these strangers.

Dave then talked about his victory over cancer, and how it had affected his and his family’s lives. Again, the crowd seemed to connect to this, as it involved suffering. Dave picked up on it and kept the message centered on suffering and how God could use that suffering for His glory, and how God could heal.

Dave was amazing. When the service was over, I embraced him, wanting him to know what an impact he had made on me, and on everyone I’m sure. My brief description of it here truly does not do it justice.

Dave, I’m so proud of you.

We left the service, were surrounded by kids, and made our way to the car. It was emotionally draining, but it was good. It was so so good.

Rwanda welcomes us

February 27, 2010

We arrived in Rwanda a day later than we had planned, and we ended up missing a missions meeting that we were supposed to lead. Fortunately though, Trinity had a leader, Samantha, already in Rwanda that was able to lead the meeting for us, and make sure everything happened on time, etc. We were very grateful to Sam for that.

When we arrived in Kigali, we were met by Bernadette, the wife of one of the Anglican Bishops in the area. She took us to her house to drop off our climbing bags, which we would not need for our time there, and then took us to the bus station so we could get a ride to Butari.

The bus station in Kigali was like something out of a movie. There were people selling things everything…fruit, pictures, souveneirs, anything else you could imagine. There were motor bikes at every turn, and cars screaming by you. If you took your eye away from the road for a moment, you’d surely be taken out. The hussle and hussle of the bus station area of Kigali made NYC look like a quiet suburb.

Bernadette handed us off to Violet, who was negotiating our bus tickets, and making sure we were on the right bus. The four of us stood out like sore thumbs, the only white people in the area, and far taller than the average African as well. James, who is 6’7″, was a constant target of stares.

We finally packed onto a tiny bus, with our luggage stuffed in seats beside us, and rode for 2+ hours to Butari, all the while listening to a radio broadcast of a soccer (futbol) match, albeit in the Kinyarwandan language, so we only could only tell when a goal was made by the universal broadcaster scream of “Goooooooooooooooaaaaaaaaalllllll”.

We definitely were out of our element, and at this point, truly on our own. We all wondered how we would know when to get off, and whether or not we were going in the right direction.

Luckily, two hours later, one of the English speaking passengers told us that this was our stop.

Thank you.

When we got to Butari, we met our Trinity representative, Samantha, who had made all of our arrangements for the upcoming week. She took us to the hotel, we rested, and then headed to dinner.

At dinner, we were met by two more Anglican Bishops, who wanted to talk to us about how Trinity might be able to help with their respective ministries. It was a spirited dinner, with lots of laughs and welcomes, and backdropped by 80′s pop music, which apparently is loved by Rwandans. It was nice to have a piece of America, as we all were starting to long for our respective homes.

We decided that the next day, we would go to a church in Bishop Augustine’s parish, and join them for worship. When Dave joked to the Bishop about which one of us would preach, the Bishop, not knowing he was joking, took him up on it, and suddenly Dave was prepping for his first official sermon. Only Dave didn’t know it yet. He still thought it was a joke.

Gulp.

What if I hadn’t made it to the top?

“What if I climbed that mountain
What if swam to that shore
What if every battle was victorious
Then would You love me more?
Would You love me more?

What if I were everyone’s first choice
What if went farther than before
What if stood high above the rest
Then would You love me more?
Would You love me more?

You say I belong to You,
Apart from the things I do?
You say I belong to You?
I’m in awe of why You do
Why You do
Why You do
I’m in awe of You

What if ignored the Hand that fed me
What if I forgot to confess
What if I stumbled down that mountain
Then would You love me less?
Lord, would you love me less?

What if I were everyone’s last choice
What if I mixed in with the rest
What if I failed what I passed before
Then would you love me less?
Lord, would You?!!!
Would you love me less?

Oh no oh no oh no…

You say I belong to You!
Apart from the things I do.
You say I belong to You?
I’m in awe of why You do….

You do, You do, You do!!!

What have I done
To deserve your Son
Sent to die for me?
What can I give?
I wanna live!
Give me eyes to see.
In a world that keeps changing
There’s one thing that I know is true. Your love is stayin’,
and there’s nothing else I hold on to.

You say I belong to You
Apart from the things I do.
You say I belong to You,
I’m in awe of why You do.

You say I belong to You?
Apart from the things I do?
You say I belong to You!
I’m in awe of why You do!!

I’m in awe of You
I’m in awe of You

The way You love me
The way You do
The way You do
The way You love me
You love me
You love me
The way You do, the way You do.”

-Jadon Lavik