Life in Kenya has been nothing short of intense. From taking motorcycles through dirty roads, to more spiritual freedom than I've ever dreamed, I have found it to be a place where God is present. I never dreamed it would be this beautiful, and simultaneously this much spiritually in need.
We spent the first day at a local Pentacostal church. While I am just as skeptical as the next guy about this style of worship, so much of it seemed too genuine to "fake". Even though the service was more charasmatic than I preferred, the Spirit was heavier in that place than any place I've ever been. It left me on fire.
The next day we put that fire to use and did door to door evangelism. While many of the people were already Christians, so many needed care in terms of honest conversation, fellowship through tough faith questions, and heavy prayer. It was such a humbling experience to be invited into the homes of strangers and talk to them about my Lord.
The day after we hopped into the car and drove to a school. "Alright," I thought, "I get to talk to kids about Jesus." Fifteen minutes later I was swinging an ax, chopping up tree stumps for heating. (Thank you ECM for preparation for this!) While I had joy of helping those in need, a thought lingered, "How is this spreading God's word?" My answer came one hour later, when our host gave us a porrige break. He was thanking my team profusely for our work. While we accepted the thanks, it was a bit extreme. "What's the big deal?" I asked. Our host responded, "So many white missionaries don't do physical labor for us. They are 'too spiritual' for that stuff. You are changing people's minds about what it means to be a missionary in this country."
God, thank you for using me for things so much bigger than I see. You are wonderful!
