Greetings from Ntagatcha!

With the exception of some students coming in a few weeks, we are all here at City of Hope, safe and sound! Every bag of luggage arrived with us, which is nothing short of a miracle in and of itself. Everyone is tired, tired, tired. Hopefully we can write more later.

Safe Arrival in Nairobi

Joi, Ty, True, Wren, Rachel, Abi, Angie, Christine, Michael, Joram, Daniel and Ben have arrived safely in Nairobi and we are enjoying chai at the guest house.  The last phase of the team will be arriving landing at the international airport within the hour (it's 8PM here).  Everyone is safe and well.  No problems at all.

There are twenty six of us counting three Kenyans and three Tanzanians!

Please pray that the rest of the group arrives safely tonight and that we have safe travel to Tanzania tomorrow.

More later.

T

Safely Home, Looking Forward

We've been home over a week now, and we're all well. The kids slept and watched movies most of the way home on the plane, which made it much easier than it was when we traveled eastward a few months ago. When we disembarked after the eight plus hour leg over the Atlantic, the man who had been sitting behind t. remarked how well behaved our kids are. It was the first time I'd ever heard anyone say that about my kiddos. Maybe we are doing something right.

Since we've been home, t. has vacillated back and forth between saying he wants to go back and saying he doesn't want to go back. I can live with that. Because we are going back: this July and August, and then more after that. At least there are some things t. is looking forward to. Though it is difficult for him at his age, and thus vicariously difficult for us, and I am convinced that in the long run it will be good for him. He will not grow up with the same assumptions as other American kids. I can't help but think this will be good for him. Sure he'll be infected to some degree with ipods and shopping malls, and later with cars and houses, but he will at least be aware that that is not the only way to see life. OK, I'll admit it: He's already completely obsessed with both ipods and cars. But still, there is nothing like being transplanted to a different culture, where your family is working toward different goals, for challenging your own assumptions and worldview. It's hard, even for adults, but it's good. It's a way to pursue a true worldview rather than just adopting the one of your own culture.

My own calling has never been so clear to me as it is now--as God has made it over the past months. First and foremost I am a husband and a father. My primary vocational effort is centered around transforming the diminished understanding of health, creation, and personhood that has infected my culture and is thus spreading around the world. We in the West take scarcely little time to even consider what health and personhood are.

If you don't believe me, ask a medical student, who has just finished 8 years of training to the tune of several hundred thousand dollars and who is about to give at least three more years in harsh indentured servitude to residency training: "What is health, actually?" "What does it mean to be a person?" You'll mostly get blank stares. No kidding. But it's not their fault, they've been fed a consistent ten to twenty year diet of institution focused, disease focused, reductionist curricula, which is incapable of answering the deeper questions of life.

That's where my generation of doctors are. The generation before me is probably worse off. And we're just a subset--an example of a culture that is at a loss to engage with its shortcomings. We wonder why addiction, depression, and cynicism are rampant and worsening. We fail to engage with poverty in any real way, and our development projects fail to transform peoples lives--all stemming from a disordered understanding of personhood and all that proceeds from it.

My calling? To engage with the next generation over these issues, and to do it through relational mentorship. As my friend recently put it: "The relationship is the curriculum." I will strive to communicate the truth about personhood, health, and creation to the next generation by investing in trusting relationships. I suspect that if all I did were to rant about it in a blog, it would not make a bit of difference.

So we will be going back to Tanzania, to City of Hope, and taking students and residents along with us. As I said above, there is nothing like being in a different culture to make you evaluate your own assumptions. We will work with Americans and Africans together, to ask honestly: What does it mean to be a person? What does the Bible say about health and healing? And hopefully by God's grace, we will be renewed by the transforming of our minds.

So, if you or anyone you know is interested, we will be facilitating a seminar in Tanzania this summer entitled Foundations of Health and Development. Half day of discussions about the issues above and half day of practical application through community health outreach. Americans and Tanzanians working and dialoguing together. Anyone is welcome. It will be roughly mid-July to mid-August, and we are working with several universities and medical schools to have it listed as an accredited program. Contact us for more details. Here's a link to info: http://teamworkcityofhope.com/foundations-of-health-and-development/

Safari Njema

In an effort to create some positive memories for t., who has been struggling to adjust here, we took a short trip to the Serengeti National Park this past weekend. Everyone had a great time, and we were even able to bring Esther along, the orphan who has been helping us with the kids for the past couple of weeks. At the lodge she enjoyed her first ever hot shower (I was pretty excited about it myself) and her first visit to the Serengeti. Thankfully the park is free for Tanzanian citizens, so it is accessible to all the kids, if they can only get there and find a vehicle to ride in...it wouldn't really be safe to just walk around, and I think it is not permitted anyway...enoy some of the pictures! This may be the last post until we get home. We leave tomorrow.
Asante sana, Tanzania. We love you.

Take Opportunities to Exhibit Grace, Part 2

After Dr. C heard what happened, he invited the girl's father into the privacy of his small home and listened to the story, I am told he said the following to the girl's father: “I'm sorry she doesn't know how to behave properly. Why don't you send her here [to school at the City of Hope—this girl is not in school at all] so that we can teach her?”

Z told me this story as we had chai together the next morning. His comment was, “You know, Dr. C. responds in such a Godly way.” Then Z told me another similar story. He said, “A few months ago a boy was caught stealing maize from our cornfield. He had only a small amount, maybe six ears. He was almost through the fence when he was caught and brought to Dr. C. You know what he said to this boy? He said, 'I'm sorry you do not know to ask. You don't have to steal from us. Stealing is wrong. (That is not a given in this culture.) Next time you are hungry, just come and ask for food.' And he gave the boy even more maize and some other things and let him go!” Z concluded his story with an absolutely beautiful smile.

Philemon teaches a similar lesson. Onesimus the slave has run away from his owner, Philemon, whom Paul knows to be a Christian. But then in Rome, Onesimus then meets Paul, becomes a Christian—a new man through transformation by the gospel. He also becomes a brother in arms to Paul, serving him while he is in prison. Paul knows that between Onesimus and Philemon, both professing Christians, there must now be reconciliation, so he writes the letter to Philemon, saying that Onesimus must ask forgiveness for running away, and that Philemon must forgive him and take him back with grace—and not just as a slave, but as an equal—a brother in Christ. Surely this is hard for both men, but for both of them it is an opportunity to grow in Christian virtue. Paul sees this, and behaves accordingly. He takes it not only as an opportunity for reconciliation, but also an opportunity for Onesimus to learn the humility of admitting wrong, taking responsibility, begging forgiveness, and attempting to make amends, and an opportunity for Philemon to learn the discipline of genuine active forgiveness and the lesson of unity and equality in Christ—equality of a learned man with slave—a totally counter-cultural lesson.

All of my adult life, even as I have had many positions of leadership, I have feared correction, conflict resolution, and confrontation. It's hard to tell people that they are wrong. But today I see it in a new light. Every conflict resolution, every correction, every confrontation is an opportunity for discipleship. It is an opportunity to exhibit grace. It is an opportunity to be Christ. For all parties, it is an opportunity to grow closer to Christ, and it is an opportunity for me to help them in those steps. So I resolve to strive to see these things this way when they came up. Clearly Paul did. Clearly Dr. C. does. As I see it, the biggest challenge for me will be to learn to do this as a parent. It is one thing to do it for an adult who can see that you are showing mercy, and focusing on demonstrating the gospel instead of focusing on making them behave correctly. It is another thing to do it for a rebellious four year old who doesn't even recognize (on a conscious level) the grace he is being shown.

Lord, thank you for teaching me this lesson. Help me as a leader and as a father to take each instance of correction as an opportunity to exhibit grace while still acknowledging the wrong. That's what you do for me. Help me do it for others. I need your help, because this is going to be hard...

Photo Journal of the little world of t. and w.

So, our children can't write blog updates yet, but I'm sure they would love to share with you a little bit about what life has been like for them here. I will post pictures until my patience for the internet wears out completely.

In general t. and w. enjoy lots of playing inside and out, although t. is still hesitant to go outside when the children here are on recess or if it is after school. There are just too many of them for him to feel completely secure, and they enjoy calling his name repeatedly whether he ignores them or not. Sometimes when they call his name he will yell “I'm too busy!!!!!” or “I have germs!!!!” and run away.

Anything in italics is t's exact description of the photo.

Farm animals are a part of the agriculture
program they have for the orphans.

Me and w are chasing the pigs.

w. is swinging.



I am sorting the beans. The children here work the fields
before school and on Fridays.
They are currently harvesting beans and maize.




Did you know that boy was, like, sharing his cars?



I am peeling potatoes. The children are constantly "helping" Margaret and Miriam with the cooking.

It may be hard to see but this is the result of
a "nairobi fly" landing on the skin and walking around.
It secretes a trail that is irritating to the skin.

I was holding a chick. I saw him in a family!

W is washing with mommy.

W. gets a kiswahili lesson from Mr. Ben

I am sitting on a mountain. Going "to the mountain"
 is by far t's favorite activity.

Not unlike an animal at the zoo...

A favorite activity among all the children is to push the stroller.

After a little too much freedom with some crayons,
t. removes the evidence.

w. is obsessed with writing, drawing and painting on herself.

Far more exciting than the stroller is the wheelbarrow.
It goes a lot faster, too.

t. helped harvest a bunch of banannas
from the tree behind our house.

Evening ritual-Daddy reads Black Beauty
and t. falls asleep on the couch.

Snacking on the stoop.

The girls from the children's home love to play with t and w.

Who doesn't love a game of magnet fishing for bottlecaps?

Despite the fact that we eat 3 amazing meals a day, w. makes
 her way to the children's home as often as she can and
steals ugali from the children at dinner. (cornmeal mash)

Movie night! Guess what they are watching? Laurel and Hardy!

The rains have finally come and created irresistable mud puddles.

Post-mudbath bath.

t and his best friend, Esther.

This is what happens when a 1 year old is
supposedly napping.We can't decide if she looks
more like smurfette or the incredible hulk.

Well, after about 4 hours I am pretty tired of posting. I will probably put up more pictures after we get home, when the internet is more friendly.

I should thank Esther (sitting on the tire with t.) for without her there is no way I could have done this today. Asante sana, Esther.

Take Opportunities to Exhibit Grace

I am always on the look out for lessons to be learned from those who have gone before me. This past week, by the confluence of events I will describe here and the reading of Philemon in my daily Bible study, I was taught a beautiful lesson—one I hope I shall never forget.

It had been another hard day of travel. We had gone to see the government again. (Thankfully, we now have in hand the legal papers to open the hospital!) The van rocked back and forth as Zecharia navigated the foot deep ruts in the road spawned by the recent rains. Imani and I reclined in back seats of the van, our feet propped on piles of supplies. We were all trail worn. We were running late. I had had to make the unpopular decision to abandon the remainder of our errands in order to arrive home before dark (thus depriving poor Baba of his dinner).

Ahadi and her new tiny baby rattled around in the front seat. We had picked them up from the hospital on our way home. She recently had a C-section and is recovering well. It awes me to watch her bring home a premature (under five pounds) infant to a mud hut where she has minimal belongings and essentially no resources. I know for a fact that she doesn't have ten dollars to her name. In her little home she will care for her infant and give him her strength in the coming weeks. Jolting from the bumps with a new ten inch scar on her abdomen (it's got to hurt), she doesn't even act like there is any hardship about it. She smiles so happily with her miraculous baby boy. When I think of what copious resources (easily a hundred thousand dollars) a similar case in America would subsume...social workers, ultrasounds, five thousand dollars a night for the hospital, neonatal intensive care units (or as my friend calls them: more intensive than careful units). What does Ahadi have? One blanket. Enough food and tea for the next day. It's hard to wrap my head around why the world is the way it is. Don't feel guilty for all that you have, that is not my intention. But if you will, please remember to pray for her, for she will need it. And bear in mind that she and her son are rich in ways that you, dear American, are not...

We were only a mile or two from home when a tremendous crack tore through the van. Shattered glass showered Imani and I (he got the worst of it). Instinctively I got on my toes and crouched low in the van, wondering if someone was shooting at us. A rock the size of a baseball skittered over the van floor and clunked into the well by the sliding door. Someone had a thrown a rock through our window! As the van skidded to a halt in the sand, Zecharia was out of the driver's seat and running after the vandals before the vehicle even stopped. Like an bailing fighter pilot, he had just jerked the emergency brake and jumped!

By the time I got my bearings and scanned the horizon for threats, Z was interrogating a ten year old boy by the side of the road. Already a group of witnesses was gathering. The youth had in fact seen the whole thing, and he knew the girls that had hurled the rock. He pointed to their house—the typical mud hut with a thatch roof. Not knowing how we were going to negotiate this, I agreed to go to the house and talk with the girls' parents. I wondered, “How do you handle vandalism in this context? How can we ask a family to replace a window knowing that it will cost as much as they make in a year? But people have to be held responsible for their crimes don't they?”

I knew we could call the police, and I knew that because we have a very good relationship with them and there were many eyewitnesses, they would take the case seriously, but what would happen to the little girl if we did that? Was that a tenable solution? Could we demand payment, even if it was in tiny increments? Should we just forgive the whole thing and write off the $200 loss? Wouldn't that just invite this kind of thing again? I didn't know what to do, but since Z said we should talk to the parents, I figured that was a good place to start. He actually did all the talking.

We learned that her brother actually goes to school here at City of Hope. Before long thirty people were engaged in the negotiations by the side of the road. The girls had disappeared. The parents did not argue. They were clearly distraught. They are wise enough to realize that the education of their children, which the City of Hope is providing, is perhaps their most valuable asset. The father agreed to come to City of Hope to talk to the director, Dr. C.

So what should we do? What would you do? Feel free to leave a comment.

to be continued...