Society broke down & we were caught in the middle

When the economy breaks down, society breaks down.  It happened to the country of Zaire and since we were living there as missionaries, we were caught in the middle.

We lived in the interior and except for a little news on the radio, we had very little communication with the outside world.  So I won't attempt to get every detail in historical order but will tell it as I remember it and as it affected us.

The soldiers are at Mission Garizim
There were several army mutinies.  My understanding is that like most government workers, the army did not get paid.  Somehow they must have felt that this meant they were justified in just taking what they felt "should" be theirs from just anybody.  Mission Garizim, that we had started from scratch, was raided, but we were so fortunate.  We only lost our typewriters (which we have never been able to replace) and several barrels of fuel.  Most other missions were stripped to the bare cement.  Even toilets were removed! although I can't imagine what the soldiers did with them.

Upon learning that the soldiers were coming, our people removed most of the mission valuables to the forest, and stayed there with them.  Our big truck was out on evangelism.  Our workers and students  heard that the soldiers were at Garizim, so they turned off the ignition, since any noise can be heard for many miles around, and pushed!!! that 10 ton truck into the bush, covering it with branches and other debris until the soldiers were well out of the area.

Trouble in Kinshasa, and we are there
There was trouble, looting, rioting and random violence off and on for several years.  Twice we were in the capital city, Kinshasa, obtaining supplies, when trouble broke out.  The first time, we were ordered into protective custody by the US Embassy.  All Americans were put together in one apartment building which was guarded by US soldiers.  Our family and another were assigned to share one apartment.  They were good friends, so it wasn't too bad.  Just restrictive. 

Facing death
The second time, we were staying at the home of another missionary family.  They were out doing some ministry when the roads were blocked and they were not able to return.  We had been listening to the radio to know which parts of town to avoid and what days not to go out at all.  Certain parts of the city were being looted systematically, which rape and sometimes killing resulting.  One day we heard that our neighborhood was been targeted for looting that night.  There was no safe way out.  We had to stay and face whatever came.  I remember that I really felt we might die that night.  We could hear gunshots all around us.  We got together with the Zairean worker and guard who were there to pray together.  We all knelt down on the veranda and committed our lives to the Lord.  Tears streamed down my face freely, yet I felt a deep peace, and sense that it would be all right.  Not because I thought we would not die but because I had faced that possibility and said, "Yes, Lord.  It's OK even if we do die tonight". 

I went to bed fully clothed, thinking that sleepwear would encourage soldiers to rape when they came to our friend's house that night.  I slept fitfully, awakening once fighting soldiers who were tying me up, only to realize it was only a dream.

Angels guarded us
The next morning, the guard called to us.  Trembling, he told us that during the night he had seen angels all across the top of the gate.  When we later told our friend who lived there he said, "Well, I'm not much given to seeing angels, and normally I would doubt this.  But I can tell you this:  "If old Papa Makunza says he saw angels, they were definitely there."

The soldiers never did come to our neighborhood.

We were safe, but so much damage was done.  Many lost everything they had.  Many suffered the humiliation of rape, usually done in front of their families.  Many were killed.

The destruction
Businesses were destroyed.  There was an automotive factory in Kinshasa, one of very, very few mass employers.  It was looted and utterly destroyed--another casualty in the war on the "rich".  Hundreds of people lost their jobs from that one destruction alone, and the plant was never reopened.  It sat as an ugly eyesore for years.  Finally it was made into a communal market, but those who have booths there merely moved their goods from elsewhere.  No new employment was created.

Not only was inventory destroyed and means of production destroyed, but great damage was done to the roads and bridges.  Not that the roads were much to brag about to begin with, but during Zaire's upheavals, much further damage was done.  This had two effects:  1.  Those in the interior found it difficult and often impossible to get agricultural goods to market.  As a result, they had food to eat but found it impossible to pay their children's school fees or medical care.  And 2.  Those in the cities found that food was hard to get, so of course prices skyrocketed.  In the end, everyone was hurt.

I suppose that's why, when people here anticipate the breakdown of society following economic problems, I readily see that that is feasible and highly probable.  Of course, we can also see it happening on the news in other countries and in places in the US on a lmited scale so far.  I experienced it in Zaire, so to me it is far more than just theoretical.  I know how easily it can happen.

Through it all, I can only pray that God has mercy on us.  As His child, I know He is with us through the hardest of times.  It is in Him ultimately that I place my trust.

This is TERRIBLE place to work...Can I get a job here?

I was exhausted.  It had been another long day of arguing with the Zairean "work inspector."  He was one of the endless parade of government officials that would visit Mission Garizim between September and January 1.  It was not easy in those days to get their "bonne fete" (New Year's gift). 

There has to be an infraction here someplace

We did our very best to pay all the mission workers as fairly and generously as we could.  I had long ago recognized that no matter what the workers were paid, the work inspector would always come up with SOME reason to find us in an infraction.  We doubted that the fines and taxes we paid ever made it to any government office or project.  The annual pattern of visits made it quite clear what it was all about.

We had to pay a tax because we weren't giving our workers a housing allowance.  "But they don't NEED a housing allowance!"  I insisted.  We provide complete housing for them for free.  That did not make a difference.  Even if their housing was provided, they still had to have a housing allowance.  That's what the law said.  He had a paper to "prove" it.  So that was an infraction, and an infraction demands a tax.

We argued extra long.  Our funds were getting very low.  There had been too many others like this inspector before him, and we knew there would be more in the coming days.  All day he had been haranguing us.  I had listened to it for so long that I had begun to wonder if we were not some low-life slime buckets trying to rip off the Africans after all.  We had done everything in the book wrong according to him.

Then as he walked back to the main road, his "bonne fete" (our tax) tucked tightly into his pocket, he turned to our staff member who was accompanying him.  "Do you think I could get a job here?" he asked.

Thank you, sir!  That question helped put it all in perspective for me. 

The devolution

During our first term I did not even know about Zaire's "Code du Travail" (Work Laws).  They must have existed, but they were not applied to missions.  We lived and hired workers happily.  However, as the country's economy deteriorated, officials became more and more desperate to try to get funds anywhere they could.  Immediate cash was the goal regardless of the long-term consequences.   I remember the first visit of the "Inspecteur du Travail" (Work Inspector) to Mission Garizim.  I about fainted when he listed all the requirements for hiring workers.   The long list was obviously intended for big corporations making big profits.  For small groups like ours it was death three times over.  It was really as if the worker became your child and your dependent.  You were expected to provide virtually everything for him.

Impossible to Fire?  Nearly!

The worst part was that the laws made it virtually impossible to fire anybody.  We still have workers on our work roll in the interior that we have not needed for ten years.  We keep them just because it is more expensive to fire them than it is to keep them working even if they did nothing.  Their jobs are dead-end job for them.  We will never promote them because we don't really need them.  If, however, we are out of money and cannot continue, we could let them go then, according to the law.  But of course we would pay even more dearly to do that, since other fines would apply then.

Some missions hired a special accounting agency and paid them a considerable monthly fee to do nothing but try to keep them in the good graces of the "code du travail".  In the end they, too, were levied devastating fines and ended up leaving the country.

Consequences of Restrictive Work Laws

As a result of all the upheavals Zaire (now Congo) went through, the streets have filled with homeless street children.  We have developed a wonderful ministry to street children in Kinshasa.  But we cannot start a home for them, because we would have to hire workers.  To hire workers, we'd have to follow the "Code du Travail", which is still in place.  I hate it every time I have to tell our staff no, sorry, we simply cannot cope with the "Code du Travail."  Even if it means that we cannot do some of the things we would dearly like to do.  Even if it means that street kids still sleep on the street.  It's just not feasible as long as that work code is still in place, or at least, as long as it is applied to mission agencies and other non-profit organizations.

Our experience struggling with the work code in Zaire is how I came to understand how damaging restrictive work laws can be.  We are not trying to make a profit; we are just trying to support the ministries to which we commit.  We cannot support them if we follow the present work laws, so we have to walk away from opportunities to help some of the most desperate.  I feel overwhelmingly sad every time I think about it, and yet I know it is the right decision.  Hopefully one day Congo will change the work laws it inherited from the Mobutu era and set up new, more flexible laws that protect workers while encouraging employers.  Then we and others will be able to do much more to help the needy.

Two armloads of money to pay our bill

During our family's first term in Zaire (now Congo), we took a vacation at the beach at Moanda.  The guest house charged us $165 for the week--not bad, for a family of six.   What I remember is that when my husband John counted out the money, it amounted to two huge stacks of bills.  We thought that was inflation.  We hadn't seen anything yet.

John paying for our family vacation in 1982.  Total in his arms:  $165

The government owed more than it could pay, so it felt it could solve the problem by simply having more money printed.  Of course, this caused the money itself to be worth less and less.  When the Zaire note first came out, it was worth $2 US.  In our latter days in Zaire, a One Million Zaire note was worth just cents.  I can't tell you how many because that decreased almost hourly toward the end.  Our calculators could not handle the number of zeroes, so we used a shortcut method.  3,500,000 Zaires became 3.5, etc. 

The government felt the solution was to change the money.  At least twice that I remember, they declared the old money valueless and issued new money with fewer zeroes on the end of each note.
Some limited time was allowed for the people to cash in their old currency and receive new.  However, the time allotted did not take into account that a lot of the population lived far away from banks, transportation was difficult to find and too expensive for most people, and the roads were in disrepair.  Many people did not make it to the bank by the deadline and lost what currency they had.

In other cases they made it to the banks only to find that the banks were not adequately prepared for the changeover and had run out of currency.

In one changeover, they decided that coins, called Makutas, would no longer be accepted.  What did people do with all their coins?  They put them in the church offerings!  Soon the churches found themselves with bags full of coins that they could do nothing with.

We bought the coins from the churches at a low price, which at least gave them something they could use, and we brought them home to sell as souvenirs.  That was about the only time I can remember anyone winning as far as the devalued, overprinted currency was concerned.

During our second term the inflation became much worse.  The currency was losing value almost hourly.  It was at best a three day trip to Kinshasa to exchange money.  If we brought the currency we received back to the interior, it had lost a major part of its value in those days of travel.   This was at the same time that every government agency was looking for new ways to tax the few expatriates and business people who remained in the country. 

We made it through in those days, often by the skin of our teeth, by never letting much currency rest in our hands.  As soon as we received some currency, we would immediately invest it in things we knew we could resell locally--school notebooks and pens, salt, salted dried fish called makayabu, etc.  We never made any profit on those exchanges, but we minimized our loss, which would have quickly sunk the ship otherwise. 

We used to wonder why the Zaireans never saved anything.  After living through this kind of skyrocketing inflation, it was very easy to see.

Sometimes we see political jokes about currency being like Monopoly money.  I can understand that more than most.  My husband tells the joke he heard someplace that you know inflation is bad when paper is worth more for toilet paper than it is for money.  It is spoken out of experience.

We lived through economic collapse once--please, not again!

Our family lived in Zaire for nine years and were there through the declining days of the Mobutu rule.  I never dreamed that missionary life would give me lessons in economics.  Balancing our personal support was all that I had "signed up for".  But I found that living in a nation in full-blown economic decline taught me much more.  In the next three posts I'll talk about three areas of our experience:
1.  What happens when government targets the "rich" (I'll put that first since our own US government is having an affair with that idea right now)
2.  What it's like when government prints an endless supply of worthless money creating runaway inflation
3.  What it's like when government tries to "protect" workers by treating employers as if they were ATM's or money machines.

TARGETING THE RICH?  ONCE WE WERE THE "RICH" THEY TARGETED

The definition of "rich"

I first learned I was rich in a discussion with a Zairean friend.  We lived mostly on the level of the people around us, especially during our second term.  When we chose our new mission site, there were no buildings there, although it was near a village.  We knew that eventually we would build a cement house, but we did not want the first thing we did to be to build a house for ourselves.  As it worked out, we lived for six years in a mud hut with dirt floors and a thatch roof. 

Our home in Congo from 1990 to 1996

We had no electricity in our home and we used to joke that our running water was the water carriers running up the hill with a bucket.  We bathed in nearby lake and kept a simple bucket of water by the back door for clean up in-between.  Our clothes were permanently kept in the suitcases they came in, held up by rough sticks lashed together with vine.  We used a pit latrine outhouse.  In the beginning we cooked our meals over a campfire and for a long time baked bread in a hollowed out termite mound, a skill we learned from the Zaireans. 

Our bread going into a termite mound

 

Our "rich" kitchen

We bought greens and mushrooms from the local kids and dressed simply.  So I was surprised, in light of all this, that my friend still considered us rich.

"You think we are rich?" I asked.
"Oh, yes, Madam.  Very, very rich."

"Why do you think that?" I asked.
"Because you have a truck," he answered matter of factly.

The truck did not belong to us personally, of course.  It was a mission truck, but we had use of it, so we were rich.

Our mission truck stuck on Zairean superhighway

When we first went to Zaire, being "rich" did not cause us any trouble, except that wherever we went the village chief & elders always wanted to talk with us.  Always they wanted us to build them a hospital and a school.  In every village.

The roadblocks

In the early days, we created friendship with the police at the few barriers before the towns we visited often.  We used to prepare little bags of coffee and sugar.  Before they could ask for a bribe, we began chatting with them in the local language and pulled out the baggies along with Bibles or booklets as goodwill gestures.  We always left as "bampangi ya luzolo"--beloved relatives.

As the country's bankruptcy became more and more complete, things began to change, however.  The government was out of money so it was not paying its workers.  Insistence on bribes became greater and greater.  We had to reduce the number of trips we could take because we could not afford the high price demanded at the roadblocks, and the number of them was multiplying.  The police began sneering at the coffee, sugar and Bibles.  They wanted $10.  Then $25.  Then $100.  At that point we were effectively grounded.

The mail

We had always paid for a post office box, since there never was mail delivery in Zaire.  The price on that quadrupled.  Then they also began charging us for each piece of mail we received.  We were livid at first, but then we realized that the postal workers were not being paid, and charging the few "rich" people who could afford the service was the only way they could make ends meet.  We paid for each letter.

The "infractions" and the taxes

Staying home did not solve the problem, however,  The government began coming to us.  The big Zairean holiday was New Year's.  Everyone hoped for a "bonne fete", a good celebration, which included eating plenty of meat and getting a new suit of clothes, and maybe drinking liquor for some.  The government was rarely if ever paying its workers, but many continued in their positions, perhaps because of the authority they could wield.  The only ones left in the country capable of making sure they got their "bonne fete" were the "rich".   The parade of government wokers began in September and continued in an unmitigated parade through New Year's Day.  Every conceivable department of government found a reason to visit the mission, each of them looking for some "infraction" for which they could levy a fine against us.  Of course, we were also expected to provide hospitality for them for as long as they stayed. 

The infractions were totally unreasonable.  One, I remember, was a supposed tax on dangerous places.  We had built a storage shed called a "depot".  It was a dangerous establishment, they said.  Our controller had already spent most of the day arguing with them when I got involved.

"What is dangerous about it?" I asked.

"Someone could get locked in there and suffocate," they responded.

"No, that cannot happen.  We have designed it very carefully with more than adequate ventilation.  Even if someone gets locked in, they cannot suffocate," I argued.  "Come, I'll show you the ventilation system and you can see what you think."

"Well, it doesn't matter whether anyone could suffocate or not or whether there is any danger or not.  By definition, a depot is a dangerous establishmnet, and you have a depot, so therefore you have to pay a tax."

We ended up paying the tax just to get rid of the guy.  Our funds were limited, so we had to decrease what we were doing in ministry.

The Environmental Protection Agency came out and declared that we had to pay an environmental tax because the generator that we used at the Bible school created vibrations that shook the ground.  It disturbed the termites, it seems.  So THAT'S why the termites were always so avidly attacking our house!  My husband, Papa John, tried to argue with that guy about the reasonability of what he was demanding.  "You just want your bonne fete," John said, hitting the nail on the head. 

The guy began feigning offense.  Papa John had insulted him, he said.  Before he could levy another tax on us for that, one of the pastors took him by the arm.  "Papa John must be getting hungry," he said.  "You know, the sun beats down on his bald head and he can say crazy things.  You must be getting hungry, too.  Let's go get something to eat."

We can laugh about it now, but it was truly difficult at the time.  The creativity for coming up with new infractions for which one could be taxed was truly amazing, dealing with the officials was both exhausting and discouraging, and the loss of funds cut very deeply into our accounts, making it difficult to help anyone else.

The situation got worse and worse as more and more people left the country, until toward the end even I longed to leave the country I loved so much, the place I had planned to live and minister for the rest of my life.   We spent most of our time trying to figure out how to get by, and we swore they spent most of their time trying to find new ways to take from us the ministry funds we had brought to help the people of their country. 

Reflections

I suppose my experiences in Zaire affect my thinking about our current situation in America.  No one really got any long term help by government officials targeting the rich.  A few elite got a bonne fete for a day.  The government did not address any of the issues that had caused the deterioration of the economy until mass chaos erupted and the country crumbled.  They have never really recovered from the damage that was done.  I fear America may be headed in a very similar direction.  We may have been rich by Zairean standards, but by American standards?  We've certainly never made anything even approaching $250,000 a year, so I am not trying to protect myself or the majority of my friends.  I just see the "taxing the rich" idea as a symptom of much deeper problems.  Would to God we would begin to address those!  I don't want to live through the collapse of a country for the second time.

Next time:  Living with Wild Inflation in the Congo

Thanksgiving Day Injustice

For Thanksgiving Day yesterday, Planned Parenthood published Thanksgiving "Discussion Points".  Nothing about being thankful for the gift of life, of course!  No, we were all encouraged to talk up with our families the idea of abortion as reproductive JUSTICE!  No, I'm not kidding.  A mother destroying the life of her unborn child is now being held up as JUSTICE.  Obviously not justice for the innocent child whose life is taken.

This is of great concern to me not only because I am 100% Pro-Life, not only because it's such a constant battle to constantly dicipher of politically correct doublespeak in which many cultural and political leaders are engaging, but also because I am so vitally concerned about justice.

This is part of the problem with this new doublespeak:  When a word can mean anything at all, in reality in means nothing at all.  If cutting an unborn baby apart or sucking it out with a vacuum (or any other method of destruction) can be called justice, then justice means nothing at all.  And this makes the term ineffective when we try to talk about real issues of justice for downtrodden, oppressed or enslaved people.  Once we accustom ourselves to thinking of justice as our personal right to do anything we want even though it destroys the life of another, we have then stripped the term of its power to discuss real and important issues that dramatically impact the lives of people.  Next thing you know, maybe PP will be claiming that when we recite "with liberty and justice for all", we are praying for abortion "rights".

The Biblical prophet Isaiah described our days perfectly:
"Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; Who put darkness for light, and light for darkness; Who put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!
Woe to those who are wise in their own eyes, And prudent in their own sight!" (Isaiah 5:20)

Are we now at the point where anything goes, anything can be made to sound good, and half of our words mean nothing at all?

UNIVERSAL CHILDREN'S DAY-Why are Children Valuable?

Today is Universal Children’s Day.  The world over, people are recognizing the value of our children.  In some places, however, children are not valued.  On last night’s news we learned of children being used as human shields.  This very day children are trafficked, sold into slavery, sold for sex, and used a delivery devices for bombs.

The value of children is tied up in the value we place on human beings.  Of course, all of us like to think we are important, but are we really objectively so, or is our value something we simply assign to ourselves, sort of like patting ourselves on the back?

For Christians like me, children are valuable because people are valuable.  People are valuable because God made us in His image and for His own pleasure.  “So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female created he them.  And God blessed them…” (Genesis 1:26-28a) .  “All things were created by him, and for him” (Colossians 1:16c).

Some religions see children as valuable, but only insofar as they fulfill the purpose of the group.  They may see them as valuable as instruments of jihad or war by which their religion is expanded, or as propagators of more of their particular brand of faith, thus changing the logistics of nations, influencing votes to bring them into power through democratic means. 

In the Christian faith, children are valuable simply because God made them special in His image,  and He finds pleasure in His creation.  I find this immensely liberating.  It frees me from trying to force my children or those whom I serve in ministry to become what I think they should be.  It frees them to become what God wants them to be.  It helps us all enjoy their unique value whether they are smart or mentally challenged, average kids or autistic, beautiful , strong and healthy or physically challenged.  It helps me appreciate those who are different from me as much as those to whom I relate more easily.

Sure, Christians too think about what their children might become and the great things they might do for the Kingdom of God.  Yet that is not what gives our children their essential value.  We understand that they are precious because God made them, and He made them human.

In the Christian faith, children are a blessing from God.  From the moment of conception until God takes that new life back into His hands in death, children bring blessing into our lives.

We at Every Child Ministries gladly join in celebrating our children today!

Are homosexuals born that way? part 2

Although I have not seen any compelling evidence that homosexuals are born that way, I admit that it seems that way to many people. 

So for the sake of considering the issue, I'm saying that maybe some people are born with that inclination.  The question then is, Is that a reason they should pursue that lifestyle?  Is that a reason society should affirm them in that inclination? 

Well, let's think of some other examples.  People may be born with a psychopathic personality.  Should we affirm that or try to treat it?

People may be born with a bent toward pedophilia or beastophilia.  Should we affirm those bents and tell them it's OK, it's normal, that's the way God made them?  We shouldn't send sexual abusers of children to jail any more?

People may be born with a craving to set things on fire.  Should we encourage the bent toward arson, writing it into our children's textbooks as just another normal lifestyle?

People may be born with leukemia.  Instead of treating it and praying for them and rooting for them to overcome it, should we just affirm that leukemia is beautiful?  May start leukemia pride parades?

The point is that all these abnormalties are evidences that the whole creation has been cursed through our sin, just as the Bible points out.  We normally don't have any trouble sorting out the sin or the sickness from the sinner.  We normally don't have any trouble affirming the value of the person, affirming our love and support for the person, while also fighting the abnormality.

It's just in a few select cases that we do that.  Homosexuality (and many other sexual aberrations) is one of those cases.  In those cases we want to see it entirely differently.  It's immensely popular and politically correct to affirm THOSE cases alone as normal, just another lifestyle, made by God, etc.

It isn't very consistent or logical thinking, though, is it?

Again--Anyone may enter this discussion, no matter what your viewpoint, as long as your discussion is civil and respectful.  I welcome your comments.

Were homosexuals born that way?

Well the question of whether to accept homosexuality as normal has come to Africa.

Wasn't so years ago.  I remember in the 80's in Congo an old pastor came over to me after talking with a group of other pastors.  "Mama," he asked, "is it true that in the U.S. a man can marry another man?"

"Yes, I'm sad to say, that is being done in some places in the U.S." I said.  He mouthed dropped open.  He turned and said to the others, "She says it's TRUE!"

Another time a young African woman asked me how homosexuals "do it", since they are obviously lacking the God-supplied equipment for sex.  I told her one way was through anal sex, explaining that in the briefest and simplest of terms.  She shook her head.  "Kitoko VE," she said.  "NOT pretty!"

That pretty much has been the attitude I've seen in Africa.  Although I met one representative of an NGO who said she was there to help "gays" come out.  I wasn't surprised she was finding some.  Most poor people in Africa would be anything you wanted if it meant they'd get some special kind of help.

One of the biggest arguments I'm hearing is that homosexuals were born that way, and God created us, so He must have created them as homosexuals and therefore approve of them being such.  It sounds very logical.

Let's think about that for a minute.  I, being an evangelical Christian, do subscribe to the belief that God created our first parents and gave to them the gift of being able to procreate (have children through sex).  So ultimately I agree that God is the Creator of us all.  Even homosexuals.  God made them and they are His beloved creatures just as much as me.

But those who believe the Bible enough to believe the acccount of Creation should believe it enough to believe the account of how that creation got spoiled.  It comes in the very next chapter after the description of Creation.  The short version is that God gave our first parents a test--an opportunity to choose to obey or to disobey, to choose their Creator's way or their own way.  They failed the test, choosing their own way over God's.  Some may argue about the details of the account (although I accept them), but you don't have to look around you very far in our world to see the far-reaching results.  Evil has come into our world and is still very much with us.  Even those who don't believe in God usually have some standard of good and evil, thus acknowleging that evil is very real.

God did not make us evil.  He made our first parents good.  But He also gave us another gift, without which we would not be fully human as we know and understand humanity.  He gave us the gift of freedom, of choice.  That was part of the dignity of being human.  We were not programmed with instinct like animals.  We were able to choose, and we were warned of the devastating consequences of choosing our own way over God's.

So according to Christian belief, the world is not as God created it to be.  Even the ground was cursed because of our first father's sin.  I know the reality of sinfulness in my own heart all too well, if I am honest.

When some argue that God created people, so if they are homosexuals, God must have made them such, they are forgetting or ignoring that the world is not now as God created it to be.  Much has been spoiled because of sin.  Now we are laboring under the effects/ consequences not only of the sin of our first parents, but all the wrong choices of generation after generation of ancestors, the wrong choices of human societies as a whole, and also our own personal wrong choices.  Things are majorly messed up.  I don't see how anyone can dispute that.  Look around you.

I am not at all convinced that there is sufficient evidence to support the claim (or more commonly, the assumption) that homosexuals are born that way.  We'll save that for another discussion.  For now, let's say for the sake of argument that they sometimes are.  Even if that were true, it only shows that our world is messed up.  People are born with cancer.  That was not God's intention for them.

More on this discussion to come

A WOMAN'S RIGHT TO CHOOSE & THE WAR ON WOMEN

My husband and I have been talking about "rights" lately.  It seems to me that we human beings have got confused about that a time or two.  It seems to me we are bogged in a mire of confusion right now.  The founding documents of my country, the United States, talk about being "endowed by our Creator" with "inalienable" or unchangeable rights.  God-given rights.  Not rights we assigned to ourselves because that's what we wanted to do, but rights that are good in the natural order of things.  Life, liberty, the pursuit of happiness.  Freedom of speech.  Freedom of religion.  These rights and others have stood the test of time.  These rights do not infringe on the rights of others, and if some would warp them to do so, we have had the good sense to realize that the expression of one right cannot be interpreted or used to infringe on the rights of others.  I can practice my own religion, for example, but if my religion says I should amputate the right hands of all men, I cannot practice that, because my right to practice my religion stops short of injuring others.

How different from some of the "rights" many people are pushing today.  Today many of our governmental and cultural leaders have decided that there are new "rights" people are "entitled" to.  We don't want to ever say it in such a way that it shows clearly that another's rights are being violated, so we never say "a woman's right to end the life of her child."  We don't even like "right to an abortion".  We want to make sure nobody thinks about the victim or the violation of another, so we use nicey euphemisms like "a woman's right to choose", "a woman's right to make her own healthcare decisions," "reproductive rights", etc.  It's more than euphemisms.  It's doublespeak.  It's talk that consists of words having no relation to reality.  Recently I read that even the UN is determined to push "reproductive rights" as a universal right.  If anyone thinks differently, they are fostering a "war on women."  That's what some would have us believe.

If it is my right as a woman to choose when to end the life of my children, it is a right of a far different nature than the inalienable, God-given rights described in our founding documents.  I can practice my religion without hurting anyone.  I can speak my mind without hurting anyone.  I can live in freedom and seek happiness in many ways that hurt no one.  But I can never have an abortion without hurting someone.   Actually, I can never have an abortion without killing someone.  Without denying that same life, liberty and pursuit of happiness that I enjoy to someone.  It's impossible.  Abortion by its very nature ends a life.

It's pretty bleak when I think about how the idea of "rights" are used today.  Whatever we decide we want to do, we just manufacture the "right" to do it, it seems to me.

I am somewhat encouraged, however, when I remember that in the past we have fallen into this pit a number of times before and still managed to climb out of it.  I remember that there was a time when the Supreme Court of our beloved land declared that a slave had no rights that a white man need respect.  Some people wanted to have slaves.  They found it profitable, so they gave themselves the right to do it.  Thank God we later came to our senses and even the Supreme Court realized that it is not infallible.

Hitler felt the Jews and others did not have the right to live.  A similar thing happened between the Hutu and Tutsi tribes in modern Uganda just in recent times.  "Rights" manufactured in the human imagination.  "Rights" to enable wicked people to do whatever their evil hearts imagined.  Those "rights" took the lives of millions, but they did not stand the test of time.

We need to get back to the God-given, unchangeable rights.  A woman's right to choose to terminate the life of her child is NOT one of those.

The Values for which I will stand, pray, & speak

 
A dear & greatly respected friend has been corresponding with me about my Facebook posts.  He feels my posts are "hateful" and "bitter."  I don't agree.  I do not FEEL hateful or bitter towards anyone.  But my discussion with him caused me to realize that others who may disagree with me may see my posts differently than me, and I admit that I did actively work against the re-election of President Obama.  Now, after the election, I still find myself wanting to speak up for the same causes.   The truth is, I am much more issue-oriented than I am personality oriented.  I spent some time praying about this, asking God to guide me in future posts and to show me anywhere where I was wrong in what I posted.  I admit that I might have passed some potentially offensive posts in my zeal to see America go in a different direction.  As a result, I decided to think through and write down in firm form the values I will speak up about, and the kinds of posts I will not make or pass on.  Since I first wrote this on Facebook, I've added a couple of other things, & I'll continue to do so as God brings more to my mind.  For now, this are my own private rules.  They apply not only to Facebook, but to all public discussions.  Also, I am glad to say that I have many friends who disagree with me, some of them on almost every point below.  I still value them as friends and respect their right to make their own choices.  But for me, I have to speak up for the values that matter to me.  Some will see that I did not list my obvious interest in helping African children, fighting child trafficking & slavery.  I am trying to keep this as short as possible, & I feel those interests naturally flow out of the second point.  My support for the value & dignity of human life reaches far further than abortion, although that is included.  It is that core value which causes much of the ministry for which I, and Every Child Ministries, have become known.  Well, here are my values & private rules.  It might be interesting for others to do something similar.

THE VALUES FOR WHICH I WILL STAND, PRAY, AND SPEAK

Testimonies that honor my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and encourage other Christians.

 

The unique, innate value & dignity of human life as created in the image of God from conception until natural death.

Respect for all people as created in the image of God whether or not I agree with their views, decisions or lifestyles. This respect not to be interpreted as approval of their choices.

 

Respect for people’s right to make their own choices, up to the point those choices do not infringe on the life or right of another human being.

 

Religious freedom for all & discussion of ways we should react when those views are threatened or ignored.

Human sexuality, marriage and family as God created them to be & as a standard towards which we should strive.

Support for the nation of Israel to exist and to defend that right.

Exposing the progress of the imposition of Shariah law in non-Islamic countries.

Exposing the increasing persecution of Christians and speaking out as their voice.

Financial responsibility including minimizing debt, spending resources wisely for the good of all, and emphasizing programs that empower people to stand on their own and not to become permanently dependent on government.

Limited powers of government and strict, literal interpretation of our founding documents.

Truthfulness, transparency, and normal use of words without reinterpretation and doublespeak. Accountability from public officials and cultural spokespeople.

Factual exposés related to the above principles.

Prayer for all elected & appointed officials.

 

WHAT I WILL NOT SAY OR PASS ON

 

 Name calling and nastiness or villainizing of entire groups or political parties.

Nit-picking not related to the above principles.

 

Anything that just complains or expresses anger about those with opposing views without contributing in a positive way to the discussion.

Complaints & demands for recounts related to the election.• Respect for all people as created in the image of God whether or not I agree with their views, decisions or lifestyles. This respect not to be interpreted as approval.

 

 

Post Election Blues

My heart is heavy and sad today.  I'm not scared, not desperate.  I know God is on the throne and sovereign over all.  I know God is still the same as He was before the election of Barack Obama to a second term.  Ultimately, I trust in Him.

But I am sober, somber.  I know that this nation has made a huge mistake--not because they elected a Democrat and not a Republican, but because they elected a man who claims to be a Christian and yet spits in the face of so very many Biblical ideas and principles, even things as basic as respect for all human life and what marriage is.  That's why I decided to take an open stand against him on Facebook, even realizing I could lose a friend and the mission could lose support. 

America has been moving away from God for some time.  Obama did not start the engine rolling downhill.  But his policies and the principles he openly espouses are like stepping on the gas full speed ahead.  His polcieis and principles mock God and His Word. 

As I thought about the election, I can't help but think of the Bible account of when the children of Israel wanted a king, so they could be like all the nations around them.  God said no, He was to be their king.  But they kept insisting.  God warned them pointedly what would happen if they got a king.  He would make them poor with heavy taxes.  He would enslave their children to serve him.  But they still insisted.  So God let them have their own way, and they suffered all the consequences God had warned them about.  (I Kings 8)

I think about Romans 1:24, 26 & 28, where the Bible says "God gave them up" because "they did not like to retain God in their knowledge." 

Is God at the point of giving America up?  Has He done so already?  I can't say for sure, but I do know we are headed in that direction, in a steep downhill race, picking up steam, going faster and faster.  There is a huge cliff ahead, but we show no signs of stopping or slowing down.  I knew before the election we were close to that point if we haven't reached it yet.

I feel we have crossed a line, and there may be no return. 

Of course, I know God can bring us back if we turn from our sin and seek His face, but I also see that when we insist on going our own way, God's judgment often comes in the form of giving us up--simply withdrawing His grace and letting us eat the fruit of our own ways.

My mood tonight reminds me of one of our most difficult nights in Congo.  The army was in mutiny and was systematically pillaging and destroying sections of the city of Kinshasa.  We were staying at a friend's home and they were not able to get back because the streets were unsafe and volatile.  We could hear gunfire in the background.  We heard that the soldiers were coming to loot the neighborhood where we were staying.  They had planned to do so that very night.  There was no way to get out and nowhere to go.  We felt that we might die that night.  We gathered the African guard and workers who were there.  Together we knelt on the veranda and committed our lives to God.  I remember that tears streamed down our faces as we faced the fact that we could be in our last hours on earth.  It was a sober, somber time.  Yet the most amazing peace filled my heart.  I knew that if the soldiers killed me, I would be with Jesus.

That's the sense I feel right now.  Sober.  Somber,  Realizing that we are in awesome and imminent danger as a nation.  Yet still knowing that Jesus is with us.  Nothing can separate us from Him and His love.

The future?  It's not looking bright right now as far as this life goes.  It's looking very serious for our grandchildren.  Yet Jesus is with those who love Him, and we know we are on the winning side in the end.   Lord, let me experience the reality of that in even greater measure!

My IMPOSSIBLE call to the Karimojong

I've been stepping out of my comfort zone for years, but what should I do when I believe God is calling me to do something that I know I cannot physically do?  For some years I've been following the plight of the Karimojong people in Uganda.  It is becoming quite clear that God expects us to go up to Karamoja land on an exploratory mission.  We've been in touch with a Christian missionary veterinarian up there and she has suggested November 2013 as an ideal time for the trip.  Roads are most likely to be passable, and the weather is not yet at its hottest.  I know I have to go.

Yet even as I write this, I realize that I am in no shape to go.  I would say that my physical ability to make that trip and to do the exploration successfully is just about as close to zero as it is possible to get.  For years I've struggled with fibromyalgia pain.  It's not responded to any of the pain medications and anti-inflammatories my doctors have given me.  And it's got a lot worse recently.  The truth is that I've taken the easy path, avoiding needed exercise because I found it painful.  That's an ever-increasing downward cycle.   As my life has become more sedentary I've also filled in my minutes by munching and comforted myself with food, getting more and more out of shape.

Although the deterioration of my condition is rather advanced, I am believing that it must be possible to reverse degenerative fibromyalgia pain.  If it wasn't possible, God would not be asking me to go to Karamoja.

So, yesterday I made a decision to commit myself to getting in shape.  I will do everything I know to do, believing that by November 2013 I can build up the stamina and health needed to go to Karamoja.
I've tried several kinds of supplements, and they have not helped long term.  I've tried pain relievers from a neurologist my doctor sent me to see and anti-inflammatories from my chiropractor.  I believe my lifestyle has to be the key.  I developed these problems after I came home from Africa and began to be less physically active.  I've tried several times to adopt a more disciplined lifestyle, always falling back into old habits and the easy path.  But I was leaving myself an out--trying to do it quietly on my own.

This time, I am announcing my intention publicly.  I have already put it on Facebook.  I need friends to pray for me, encourage me and keep me accountable. 

I've begun to keep a fitness diary--diet, exercise, pain levels, attitude.  Maybe it will help me spot problem areas and maybe it will encourage someone else who is struggling.

My goal is not just to look good, although I won't complain about any improvements in that area!
My goal is to be able to do what God is asking me to do.  Today I did several forms of exercise, starting gradually.  But when I sat for half an hour to do scrapbooking tonight, I was almost unable to stand afterwards.  The back muscles of my upper legs just tighten up and refuse to work.  That's why it's such a spectacle to watch me try to get up after sitting for awhile.  I have no doubt that I cannot do this right now.  Graciously, God has given me a little over 13 months to work on the problem.  I know the precious Karimojong people are well worth the effort.

The Terrible Silence Has Ended--Daughter Found

Lord, I am sorry for any negative thought I ever had about Kristi's early morning phone calls.  If only she had called this morning.  Or yesterday.  Or...

I took medication to make sure I could sleep.  The second I woke up and looked over at the clock it hit me.  Silence.

I had started this blog this morning, and had to leave it to come to work.  About 9:30, we received a call from our daughter Carrie saying Kristi had just shown up at her place.  We are so relieved.  We had all thought the worst.

Kristi apparently went to visit a friend she met through the mental health program she is in.  Since she normally calls Carrie even to inform her that she is on the bus, leaving without telling anyone is not like her.  When they got to the town where the friend lived, she could not get a bus back to town because of Memorial Day weekend.  She didn't have any cell phone units.  We are all tremendously relieved.

Thank you all for praying.  After this experience, getting ready to take a team to Africa will seem like a breeze.

THE TERRIBLE SILENCE --Daughter Missing

THE TERRIBLE SILENCE

The silence this morning makes me sick to my stomach.  I can hear the loud ticking of the clock beside me.  Every tick is one second that our beloved daughter Kristi might be suffering.  Normally she calls before her feet even hit the floor.  ZERO messages.

Kristi has been missing since Friday.  All of us who know Kristi well are scared.  This is a complete break with her normal patterns.

She lost her job and the apartment where she was living.  She was staying temporarily in a homeless shelter.  She was supposed to show up at our granddaughter Marissa's graduation Sunday afternoon.  This is the kind of thing Kristi absolutely lives for.  I was bringing her pictures of her daughter Whitney's graduation and she could not wait to see them.

When Kristi did not show up, we thought there might have been some kind of miscommunication.  Maybe she needed a ride.  Maybe her friends dropped her at Carrie's, not realizing the party was at the church.  The day was very hot and we were afraid of Kristi being left out in the hot sun.  But she was not at Carrie's, nor did we see her anywhere along the route between the church and the house.

We went to the shelter where she was staying.  They informed us that Kristi was no longer there.  No, they could not tell us when she left.  No, they could not tell us where she was going.  No, they could not relay a message.  No, they could not give us any information.  I understood their position.  They were following policy and protecting those under their care, but it was a sober mama who had to come out and tell Papa John that Kristi was not there.  Still, I thought that probably Adult & Child services had moved her to a new location.  I could not understand why they would not have told Carrie, who handles Kristi's affairs, since Kristi is special needs.

We went back to the reception.  Carrie was also very concerned, because Kristi ALWAYS keeps in touch.  She called the emergency number for Adult & Family services who were helping Kristi.  They had not moved her to a new place and did not know where she was.  They agreed that it was highly unlikely that Kristi would willingly have missed a family event.  Kristi is extremely social and places a very high value on staying constantly connected.

I felt we should call the police and report her missing.  My training about human trafficking was beginning to make me sick, and I knew that if Kristi was in trouble, there could be a narrow window of time in which to act.  Plus, Kristi had no other place to go.  The homeless shelter was a last resort, and since she did not pack, she obviously planned to come back when she left in the morning.

The police came out and took a report.  They were able to call the shelter and get details.  She had not been there since Friday, and her clothes were still there.  Now I knew for sure that something was wrong.  We believe that either she was abducted or met with foul play, or someone talked her into going with them.  If it is the latter, they are also restricting her freedom or she would definitely have called home.  Kristi knows she can call home no matter where she is, no matter what trouble she is in, no matter what she may have done.  If she hasn't called, it is because she cannot call.

We called friends with whom we knew Kristi kept in close contact.  They said they had already been concerned because Kristi always called them every day but had not called since Friday.

Although my husband John & I had prayed together earlier, we asked the church elders & leaders, many of whom were camping on the grounds at Carrie's church to pray with us for Kristi, and we so much appreciated them holding us all up before the Lord.


Dear friends, I know may seem like a short time Kristi has been missing, but we have reason to believe she is in danger.  There are three things you can do to help.  1.  If you are a praying person, please pray for her.  2.  Please put this out on Facebook, email, etc. & ask others to pray, 3.  Those of you who know Kristi, if you see or hear from her, please urge her to call home and please let us know if you or anyone hears from her.

Dear God,
You saw Kristi when she still growing in the womb of her sickly, malnourished mom in Africa.  You had Your hand on her as she struggled to survive.  You love her and have good plans for her life.   You know where she is right now.  Please keep her in Your care.  No matter what her situation, give her an opportunity to call home.  We trust You no matter what because You have already proven Yourself Good and Faithful.  We love You, God.  Convey our love to Kristi.  In Jesus' mighty name, Amen.

My Spiritual Journey--The Changes Jesus Made

So, for the past several days, in honor of my spiritual anniversary, I've been posting how I came to know Jesus Christ.

Now I'd like to talk about a few of the changes Jesus has made in my life.
Previous to coming to Jesus, my life had been dominated by the dark shadows of my insecure personality.  Always fearing rejection, it was a 3 year project to plan how to say "hi" to somebody.  Most people stare at me in disbelief when I tell them that I don't recall ever speaking to a single person outside my family all through elementary school.  Certainly I did not speak to any of my classmates.  It wasn't that I didn't like them.  I just didn't know how, nor did I have the courage.
In elementary school that wasn't so bad.  I kind of lived in a fantasy world of my own making.  But around about Jr. High, it began to become excrutiating.  I was almost finished with my sophomore year in high school when I came to Christ, and my social situation was not much better.


I can't say that Jesus transformed me into a brilliant conversationalist or a popular socialite.  But becoming a Christian did change things for me.  It took my mental spotlight off my own pain and began to focus it on Jesus.  It assured me of God's love and acceptance.  It assured me of my personal worth as a person made in God's image, an object of His love and mercy, a part of His big plan.  As those ideas filled my mind, it was easier to relax around others.  I was still very shy, but I no longer feared rejection so much.  And I began to understand God's love for others, too, and reach out to them to genuinely befriend them, and not just to get a friend for myself.  That has been a long process.


Along the way in God's providence He brought me a husband who had all the social qualities I lacked.  He has taught me a lot, and I am still amazed at how fast and completely he opens up even to someone he is just meeting.


I am still a quiet, thinker type of person, still more cautious in how I make myself known to others.   I am still uncomfortable in many social situations.  But I no longer fear speaking to people.  I no longer worry about whether I am liked or accepted.  I feel secure and loved, and am able to extend that to others.


My heart always goes out to the underdog, to the person who is alone, to the person who is outcast.  I can identify instantly because for so many years I was an outcast myself.  (And yes, I do recognize that most if not all of that was my own making.)  My own making or not, I can still remember how it feels.  I think maybe God wanted me to go through that pain so that I could identify with the pain of others.


Because of that pain, I have been able to help homeless street kids, abandoned kids, enslaved children, trafficked children.  God has used it all to help many and I think to bring Himself glory.

I must not be the only one in the world who has gone through these things, because some years back I wrote my story for Good News magazine.  They wrote back encouraging me with the news that 63 people had written to them saying that they had received Christ as a result of reading my story.  Wow, that's more than enough repayment for any pain I suffered!


Even better yet, God is not done with me yet.  I can't wait to see what else He has in store.

Assurance at Last

May 15.  In 1961 it was a Sunday.  I attended services at Michigan Center Bible Church, where I had been attending evangelistic meetings since Thursday.   At the conclusion of the message, they asked everyone who had made a decision for Christ during the week to come forward to the front of the church.  They began singing, "Where He leads me, I will follow".  As the congregation sang, suddenly I felt a surge of courage.  That meant me.  I had not registered a decision with the church, but I had certainly made one.  Already that decision had brought a thirst for God's Word that I had never had before.  But it had not yet brought assurance.  Since Thursday, how many times had I told God that I was indeed a sin lost and condemned?  How many times and in how many words had I pleaded with Him to save me?  I understand now that He did that the very first moment I cried out to Him, but back then I did not have that understanding.  I yearned for the assurance they had sung about in church on Thursday night.

Suddenly I found the courage to do something absolutely atypical for me.  I walked down that church aisle and stood there with a group of others who had also come to Christ during the week.  That clinched it.  I knew I had come to saving faith--not that it happened that very moment, but that I felt it that very moment.  Assurance just flooded my soul.  From then on my prayers to move on to other things.

Shortly after that, I was baptized there.  Although my parents had taken me through a baptismal ceremony as a baby, I saw in the Bible that people were baptized after coming to faith in Christ.  I took that step, too.  Then slowly, subtly, God began to change me, and the horrible shadows caused by my inordinate shyness began to lift.   More about that tomorrow.

I opened the Bible and SURPRISE !

May 14.  In 1961 it was a Saturday.  Since I had received Christ, I had suddenly found a new and inexplicable interest in the Bible.  Since it was a Saturday, I had a little free time.

I hunted around my room until I found the Bible my Grandma Miller had given me for Christmas when I was about 10.  It was still stiff and unused, still in the box it came in.  I'm sure I politely thanked Grandma for it along with my other gifts, but I remember that I felt disappointed when I got it.  What would I do with a Bible?  I hadn't yet begun active disbelief.  I just wasn't interested.  So I put it away in its box and never opened it again until I was 15.  May 14, 1961.

I began first by trying to find the verse I had memorized as a child in Vacation Bible School.  As I underlined those to make them easy to find again, I noticed other verses around them that seemed just as significant.  I underlined those, too.  Underlining became a habit as I continued reading the Bible with spiritual eyes freshly made alive in Christ.  It took about one year before almost the whole Bible was underlined.  Funny how one day it was all so irrelevant and the next it all became so very important.

Our family's attitude toward the Bible was kind of strange.  My mother was horrified if anyone ever set any book on top of the Bible.  So somewhere there was a certain kind of respect for the Bible.  However, I never recall anyone in the family ever reading it, LEAST OF ALL, ME!  That all changed when I received Christ.

I am sad and ashamed to say that I have not always followed all that I read, and sometimes I have messed up pretty badly.  It's still true, though, that the Bible came alive for me the moment I received Christ.  It's as if blinders were taken off my eyes, and before me was a royal banquet table filled with all varieties of delicious food and set with the most beautiful flowers in the world.  I've been reading and studying the Bible for 51 years now, and I still marvel at its depth, its beauty and its significance. 

When someone tells me the Bible is boring or outdated, I always wonder if they have truly met the author, or if, like me in my unconverted days, they only learned to recite facts about Him.  I always encourage them to actively seek God, because that most exciting of books assures me that those who seek God will always find Him.  Or sometimes, like me, like Saul of Tarsus, like Matthew the tax collector, God will find them when they are not even seeking for Him.  That is because He seeks for us.  I love the Bible, and I first began to read it 51years ago today.

The New Has Come

My Spiritual Journey, Continued

May 13. In 1961, it was a Friday. I had made other plans, but I asked my parents if I could change them. I wanted to go back to the church meetings at Michigan Center Bible Church and hear more.

My folks had a hard time hiding their surprise. Looking back, I understand why. I had never shown the slightest interest in spiritual things before. When my aunt had suggested I attend a church camp I had sneered, "Yea, I bet that's a lot of fun. What do they do, sit around reading the Bible all week?"

I went back that night, and again I wanted to go forward and publicly confess Christ.  I wanted to tell everyone that I had received Him in my own bedroom the night before.  But still I was afraid.  I simply stood there, clutching the pew in front of me as tightly as I could.

When I went home that night, I asked my parents if I could go back again on Sunday.  I still didn't tell them about my decision, but I know they realized something was up.  My interests had suddenly changed, mysteriously and quite totally.
More tomorrow as the journey continues.

My Spiritual Journey

May 12. It's my spiritual birthday.

  It seems SO hard to believe that 51 years ago, on May 12, 1961, I began a spiritual journey that so revolutionized my life.

It began when an acquaintance, Cheryl Phillipi, invited me to attend special meetings at her church. Cheryl and I were members of a club together, but I did not know her well. I was very shy in those days and had hardly any friends, probably because I was too shy to actually speak to anyone. An invitation to go anywhere was extremely rare, so I could not say no to her invitation.

I sat by myself, as was my custom in my shy days. The meeting began and something unusual happened, something that had never happened to me before even though I'd gone to church all my life. God began to speak to me. It was not audible, but it was real, clear, distinct, unmistakable. It reached the depths of my soul and shook the foundations of my life.

It was not the style or personality of the speaker. God began to speak to me even before he began. He began to speak through the songs. I remember that they sang, "Blessed Assurance, Jesus is mine." I was shocked. Could someone really have assurance in things relating to God? Could they really know that Jesus was theirs, personally? Could I know that Jesus was mine? I realized immediately that I did NOT know that. I did NOT know Jesus, although I knew many facts about Him.

The guest speaker, Evangelist Billy Walker, preached about hell that night. I had never heard a message about hell or teaching about hell. I only knew it was a bad word and my mother didn't like me to say it, so us kids substituted "H E double toothpicks" instead. That didn't seem to bother mom. I did not believe in hell when I went into the church, although admittedly I had not given it much if any thought.

Along about in my junior high years, I had begun to read the science books of atheist Isaac Asimov, and I had become convinced that science had the answers to all the world's problems. I was not really sure that I even believed in God, really, although I still went to church because if I stayed home my dad would make me work in his garage.

Somehow, as Billy Walker proclaimed what the Bible says about hell, I knew it was real. I knew God was real. I knew I had sinned and offended God's holiness. I understood that I was in awful trouble with Him. I knew I desperately needed Jesus. An invitation was given to come to Jesus, but it involved coming forward to the front of the church to get help. My hands clutched the pew in front of me so tightly that I wonder if there might still be marks there. Others were going forward, and I could see that they were being treated kindly and not being caused embarrassment. Still, my shyness would not permit me to go forward. It is just impossible to overstate how much that shyness ruled my life.

All the way home,I was afraid we would have a car accident. I knew I would die and go to hell. When I got into bed that night, I could not go to sleep. I remembered Bible verses I had learned as a child in Vacation Bible School. "All have sinned and come short of the glory of God" (Romans 3:23). I still remembered it clearly, but I had wiped it off, thinking it meant that nobody's perfect. I hadn't understood that sin was a very serious offense to God. I also remembered, "The wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord" (Romans 6:23). I also remembered how to pray to receive Christ, which had also been taught by "Uncle Fran the Bible Man" Goodman in Vacation Bible School.

Realizing how deeply I needed God's forgiveness, I began to call out to Him, laying there in my own bed. I asked Him to forgive my sins and asked Jesus to become my Savior. I remember that I started that prayer in the only way I could at the time, "Oh God, if there is a God...." When I finished praying, my doubts about God were gone. He had become real to me. More tomorrow, as my spiritual journey continues.

Hope for the Educationally Disadvantaged

I am so excited about the expansion of our school in Ghana for the educationally disadvantaged! It's called Haven of Hope Academy, and it works alongside our children's home, Haven of Hope. Besides taking in kids in all kinds of crises, Haven of Hope provides a safe shelter in a loving, home-like atmosphere. 57 kids live there right now, from preschoolers to teens. Then at the school we also provide education for over 120 additional kids from the surrounding community. I am excited, but I am also frustrated. We really needed additional classrooms, as we have been growing the school year by year along with the kids. We have 8 acres at Haven of Hope, but we already have seven large buildings and several smaller ones on the property. We wanted to preserve adequate land for gardening in order to enable the home to be as self-sufficient as possible, and to enable it to have a chance to survive in case a crisis or emergency made supplies and food difficult to come by. So, when we needed to add the jr. high, we decided to build UP instead of OUT. We thought we had planned carefully and raised the needed costs, but our experience so far has been with building one story buildings. Ghana had a minor earthquake in recent years, and unknown to us, she had changed her building codes, requiring MUCH more foundation, reinforcement and pillar support for the upper story. That's all good, because it will result in the safest possible building for the children. The problem is that it more than tripled our expected costs. With the funds we initially raised, we were able to complete the foundation and the shell of the first story. It is not finished--just rough cement, no electricity yet, and only open spaces in place of doors and windows. We were also able to press on to build the stairwells and the support pillars for the second story.

At this time, we are entirely out of money. The home director contacted us the other day and asked if we had anything to keep construction going. I felt sad, ashamed and embarrassed to tell him that we had nothing at all. !

We have had to lay off the workers who were on the project. The kids at Haven of Hope were so anxious to get their new school that the older boys volunteered to do some cement work. They really worked hard! But now we are out of supplies to continue, even in that way. We know that we serve a big God and that His arm is not too short to help us. Would you join us in prayer that God will show us how to obtain the remaining funds? If you are able, would you send a special gift for this project in whatever amount you are able? We estimate we still need $200,000 to completely finish the project, but even $10 can put one more brick in place. The next big step is putting on the roof, which will cost us about $25,000, but a gift $25 could pay for one square yard, including supplies and labor. EVERY GIFT will be deeply appreciated. Thank you so much!

Water Games in Kinshasa

I just returned from my latest trip to Kinshasa to confer with our staff there. The night I arrived, I made sure we bought drinking water on our way to the guest house. After the staff prayed with me and left for the evening, I went to turn on the faucet to wash up. Nothing. I thought the water must be turned off on the outside of the house. In the morniing I went out to turn it on. The handle was gone, so I had to wait until the staff arrived. "Oh yea," they said. "There's no water in this part of the city. Here we have to buy wash water." I had not planned for that in my very tight budget, and I was not happy to hear it, but what could I do? I sent some staff to buy wash water for me.

Now that water was very precious, so I had to use it carefully. That night, I was able to wash my hair in about a quart of water and catch the runoff, using the same water to bathe, sponge style. I was able to catch most of that, too. I ran into trouble, though, when it came to using that same quart of water for flushing the toilet. A quart just didn't cut it.

Fortunately, after four days, the water began to run in a drizzle from the faucet. I was able to use the tubs I used for suitcases to transport supplies. Got both of them filled and never had to buy wash water again, although I had to always be thinking about keeping my reserves filled.

On my way to reconfirm my return ticket three days before leaving, we went by the offices of the main water company. On their beautifully manicured front lawn there is a huge statue of an African woman pouring an endless stream of fresh water from her bucket. I had to laugh at the symbolism. Endless water for the city? It appears to me that the woman's bucket is the only one in the whole city that has an endless supply of water.

No, Jesus has an endless supply of truly satisfying water for all who believe in Him. After ten days in Kinshasa, I realize more than ever how valuable that is.

A woman's right to choose--what?

On this day when many in my nation mourn the shameful and infamous decision of Roe vs. Wade that legalized a mother's right to end the life of her child at her will, I am always forced to ponder the meaning of the words we use to describe these issues. President Obama reaffirmed again his commitment to "a woman's right to choose." Why do people rarely complete that sentence? The verb "choose" is transitive. It needs a direct object to complete the thought. You can't just "choose". You have to choose something.

Oh, but if we leave the sentence dangling, the last word in our minds sounds so positive. We all like choice. If we completed the thought and the sentence, we'd be faced with the negative reality that the choice the president supports is a woman's choice TO DESTROY THE LIFE OF HER CHILD. We don't want to really think so much about what we are choosing, so we let the sentence dangle on the last positive-sounding word.

It's not positive. There is nothing positive about destroying the life of another human being. If you support a child's right to life, I challenge you to always finish the sentence, and challenge others to finish it, too.