Two for One

One of the things I love about being part of NieuCommunities is that I get to do it myself, year after year. What I mean is that as part of the leadership team, I’m not just delivering something to others. We don’t simply teach or dump materials on the year’s apprentices and other leaders we are working with.

Rather, we are doing what we are passing along.

• We are living the missional lives we are hoping to encourage in others.
• We are participating in the important aspects of the life of faith (things like prayer, worship, Bible reading, and spiritual disciplines) that we want young leaders to do.
• We share life in relationship – not as bosses or teachers, but as friends of those God has entrusted to us.
• We are also learning as we serve and minister with others.

Two for one. I get to help others learn it, and I get to do it. The beautiful part is that I need these things we are advocating as much as anyone. So, because I get to engage all these things, I am shaped and formed all the time. I suppose that’s pretty important anyway – that we actually “practice what we preach.” Today’s young leaders won’t follow anyone who doesn’t.

One example: A few months back, we were reading The Divine Conspiracy with our apprentices.  Something that jumped out at me this time around (we read it each year) from Willard’s treatment of the Sermon on the Mount was investing in the heavens.  How much of what I do is temporary or unimportant in the long-term?  Good question that we should all ask.  But I haven’t been asking it.  For me, this was such a good reminder to invest in people.  (no duh, you say).  However, the reality of my job includes certain responsibilities beyond just mentoring/discipling/etc.  But, I CAN attach people to those things I do, right?  Do the work with certain individuals in mind.  Bring people in more, get advice, bounce ideas, etc.  For me, that is investing where moth and rust don’t destroy.  Eternal people.  This really helped me start spending more time with people here – fun time, soul-friending, helping, whatever.  Sad that I need to be reminded of this, but I still do.  Again, herein lies one of the cool things about doing this – I have the opportunity to learn, grow, and be shaped myself.

Not that we’re perfect – not that I’m perfect. We’re always trying to improve. But that’s just it. Because we are all in this journey together, it’s ok that we don’t have it nailed down. In fact, that’s what makes this thing work. The power comes in the process of getting a little closer all the time. And that is as true for me as anyone.

The Life of Bryan

It’s Tuesday and I’m on my way to Soshanguve with Tyler, one of our apprentices. We’re zippin’ along at 120 km  per hour (75 mph) in our Fiat Uno with the sun shining and the windows down. We take a divided highway, then a two-lane highway, a couple of surface streets and finally a dirt road that leads us to the home of Kekeletso, one of the guys we meet with each week. We open the big, heavy gate and pull the car into the shade on the left-hand side of the house.

The house is small, but neat and clean. It’s basically a 500 sq. ft. rectangle with 2 small bedrooms, a living room, bathroom and kitchen. The kitchen tiles and cupboards are new, the furniture nice and the living room equipped with no less than three dvd players. The family has resources that most don’t enjoy. However, we don’t gather in the house, but rather in the shade at the back of the house. Literally in the shade of the house seeing that there are no trees to speak of. The yard is big, but mainly dirt that has been neatly raked.

When we arrive we find Kekeletso washing windows with his mother. There are also 6 – 7 guys (19 – 25 years old), who have gathered at the back of the house. A few camping chairs are distributed, along with a few plastic stools. Others sit on the small back porch that is three feet wide and runs the length of the house. Everyone is greeting each other with the unique handshakes of the African culture that end in hugs. We slowly begin to sit and talk about our week. The time is filled with lots of laughter as “The Boys” gather once again.

The next two hours are filled with celebration, study and prayer. There is a birthday, a cake and some Pepsi, and words of affirmation spoken to the birthday boy. This is important to help combat the negative words that are so often received in life. Someone reads a poem that is the result of the “Wild At Heart” weekend. Others listen and affirm the beauty of a heart expressed. I ask to see the workbook where the poem is written. I realize that the workbook is actually a compilation of poems written over the past few months and I smile. I think back to when I was 20 and find it hard to imagine myself, or any of my friends, expressing ourselves so beautifully through such creative means. I realize that this is good for my soul, and I have much to learn from these young men.

 After an hour in John 18, we gather in a circle with our arms intwined. Although we usually pray “African” style with everyone praying out loud at the same time, today Johannes closes us in prayer. He prays for each one individually because he knows the challenges and blessings that each one faces. Once he finishes there are more handshakes that end in hugs. Tyler and I get in the car to return home and several others join us. We will drop them along the way. As I reflect on the day, I realize just how blessed I am to participate in something so beautiful, so real.

A Daughter Stolen but Found

Getting to know Granny’s family over the past several years I found out about Granny’s oldest daughter, Dumazile.  She was stolen from Granny several years ago, 33 years ago to be exact.  Dumazile was Granny’s first born.  She was stolen by Granny’s step-mother when she was only seven years old.  Dumazile was later given to a woman, Pombagile, to be raised as her own daughter.

All these years, Granny has desired to be reunited with Dumazile, but all attempts failed and she really had a hard time having any hope that she might one day be reunited with her missing daughter.

Granny shared this story with me last year, I felt God asking me to strongly commit to do what I can to help reunite this mother and daughter.  So for the past months we as a family have been praying and seeking out contacts and resources to help us locate and find Dumazile.  Over the past month through the help of the police and multiple family contacts we were able to find place where Dumazile was.  I was told we have an exact town, street address, and street number to find her.   I was told she was living in Greytown, about 700 kilometers away, and that we could find her there.

So this past Friday at 4pm the family, Barbara, and I set out for the night drive to Greytown.  I was hoping the trip would be 6 to 8 hours.  But like most plans, things change and it ended up taking 11 hours and we didn’t arrive to Greytown until 3am Saturday morning.  Whatever little sleep I was able to get abruptly ended at 5am as the family didn’t want to wait any longer to go the local police station and find the exact location where Dumazile was staying.  Well, this ended up leading us to a different police station in a smaller village about 1 hour away.  And from there we waited about 2 more hours until the police were ready to escort us to Dumazile.

The police escorted us primarily because they were concerned of a possible family fight breaking out because of a daughter being gone for 33 years.  Even though we didn’t feel the police escort was needed for this reason, we were glad they showed us the way because Dumazile was in one of the most remote villages I’ve ever been in.  She was living somewhere up in the mountains where there are only small Zulu huts spread across the landscape.  This area of South Africa is so remote with no electricity or water or food.  I honestly don’t know how they survive. (The police didn’t actually know where she was at, they only knew the general area of mountains.)  After an hour and a half of negotiating slippery, muddy roads and stopping several times with the police for them to ask the locals if they had ever heard of Dumazile or her family name, we found a small boy who knew where Pombagile lived.

So we followed his instructions and walked up a narrow path to a small white home on the top of one mountain.  It was the home of Pombagile.  This led to a series of discussions and finally to myself and others setting out in our microbus to find our way to Dumazile’s house which was another half hour drive away.  Dumazile returned with us to Pombagile’s home where everything was explained.  All of us were very anxious to know what Dumazile’s reaction would be.  To our delight, she received the news well.  She remembered being taken when she was 7 years old, but never knew the full story.  She had always thought her real mother had given her away because she wasn’t wanted, she didn’t realize she was stolen from her mother.  She was so grateful to meet her real mother after so many years and she never expected to actually meet her sisters that she never knew existed before.  It was a joyous reunion for all of us.

 

Although the visit was short, it was wonderful.  For me, I know it’s one of the most significant events I’ll ever have the opportunity to be a part of, let alone play such a significant role in making it happen.

 

Well, the way home was a night drive of 14 hours that included a flat tire, a dead battery, and the loss of brakes on the back tires but we all made it home by 6am on Sunday.  And I got some good sleep after driving all the way home except for 2 of the hours.
Reflecting on the experience, all of us could easily see how much God was with us leading the way.  And Dumazile has already called Granny twice in the three days since the weekend and she has desires to move to Soshanguve sometime in the future. I ask that you continue to pray for this family as it is the beginning of many new things for them.

The Beauty of Community

One thing I have learned this year is how important living in community is to me. Community is such a blessing because you know that whatever happens you always have someone to rejoice with when things go well and someone to help hold you up when the times are tough. Honestly, after the past few days, I don’t know what I would have done had I not had a community rallied behind me. On Tuesday I received a call from the doctor saying that I would be having an arm surgery this Friday. Then shortly after that I realized I didn’t get much of my stipend (my only paycheck) for this month. Then the doctor called back and said oh by the way, it’s going to cost about 70,000 rand. I about died. Tears were in my eyes all day as I tried to figure out what to do. I didn’t have that much money. However, just as so many times before, my community was there to give me strength. Many people held me as I wept in their arms. Barbara and Kevin ran to do doctor errands with me. Sarah gave me money, and Daleen gave me words of encouragement, flowers, and hugs. If it had not been for my community I would not have committed to doing this surgery tomorrow.

However, I did commit to the surgery. I had no idea where the money would come from, but I knew it would. On Wednesday, the doctor’s office called again and said there had been a change. Instead of 70,000 rand it would only be 30,000! I was shocked! That was all GOD! 40,000 less then the first quote! That afternoon I met with Arthur, and he told me that NieuCommunities would loan me the money until my insurance came through. Once again, the benefits and blessing of having a big God and a wonderful community.

So tomorrow I will be going in at noon for an operation that will put me back at square one. It is like we are starting the whole process over again. I will be put in a cast, and then a brace, and then hopefully healed in 6-8 weeks. The thought of doing this honestly scares me to pieces. But knowing how many people I have rallying behind me, knowing how many prayers are going up, and knowing that God has always come through before, just as he will now, makes me confident as I go into the hospital tomorrow.

Hearing God’s Voice

During the NieuCommunities apprenticeship year, our curriculum moves through six different “postures of a leader.” There’s a natural progression as we move through listening, submerging, inviting, contending, imagining, and entrusting. We’ve just concluded the imagining posture, which has honestly been the hardest one for me to absorb. I have a hard time with imagining–not so much with doing the imagining, as with believing in it. I don’t usually trust my imagination too much. I’m a little too afraid that my dreams will let me down.

During this posture we’ve been encouraged to imagine the future God might have in store for each of us, as well as the future God might have for His Church. We’ve gone through a three-week project called “Life Compass,” in which we’ve reflected on where we’ve been, the things that have made us uniquely who we are, and what that might mean for our calling in the future. The timing of all this dreaming and imagining makes sense, as we are quickly approaching the end of the apprenticeship and looking at what might be next.

For me, the past few weeks of this posture–all of this imagining the future–have felt a little like the end of the listening posture. During those early six weeks, I was earnest in wanting to hear from God, trying to discern his leading and figure out where I would serve in ministry during my ten months here. But it was a frustrating time, as I struggled with not hearing from God as clearly or as soon as I would have liked. I remember being really discouraged at one point and asking a fellow apprentice: “Do you ever feel like God is speaking to everyone but you?” I think I’ve felt like that a lot.

I’ve never been someone who hears God’s voice in a tangible way. I’ve sometimes felt I had a sense of what God wanted or of where God was leading, but that’s about it. I’ve usually made decisions based on what I’ve logically reasoned to be the wise choice. Or, when I was feeling a bit daring, from a sense of where God might be leading–stepping out in faith, praying that He’d stop me if I was heading in the wrong direction. I’ve even at times said “I feel like God is saying…”, but that’s about as far as I’d go.

Given my difficulty in believing in dreams and in hearing tangible things from God, it’s ironic that during this posture I’ve begun to hear actual words from God. It sounds weird to say that. The phrase “God told me…” has always seemed so presumptuous to me. I’ve sometimes thought that talking about God’s voice to someone who doesn’t believe in him feels a bit like a child talking to an adult about an imaginary friend. The child is convinced that the imaginary friend is there and is speaking. The adult can’t see it and thinks the child a bit foolish or, well–childish. Sometimes I feel the same way when talking about God’s leading, and even more so when talking about things I’ve heard from God. But God’s been changing that in me lately.

During the past few weeks, I’ve been wanting specificity, details from God–or at least a sense of the next step to take, of where I should head after my time here as an apprentice is over. And I’m still in that vague sense mode–a place God seems to like to put me. But the difference this time around is that God has been speaking to me in ways He hasn’t before. In the midst of a couple days of deep self-doubt, I heard God saying, “Don’t crap out on me now!” During a prayer time last week, I heard Him telling me: “Trust in me. This will turn out well.” I know I’ve heard His voice, saying things only God would understand that I need to hear, in a way only God would know to say those words. I can’t deny that, even though I feel a little foolish reporting back actual words from God. But there you go. I keep hearing words of reassurance and of hope. Which is exactly what I need, even if what I want is the details.

I have a hard time trusting dreams, and vision is a hard thing for me. I worry that it’s just wishful thinking; that I’m just making stuff up. But sometimes God gives glimpses of something I can’t deny–of something that’s so personal and yet so beyond myself that I know it’s from God. And I can’t explain it other than to say that I know. Maybe this is what they call holy imagination…