Weekly Sermon 10/19/14

Checking Your Portfolio from Geneva Presbyterian Church on Vimeo.

Leaving day

Kenyan Sunset

Soon, very soon, the vans will arrive

to ferry us to the waiting plane,

poised to wing us home.

So I pack my suitcase, tucking mementos into clothes

and laying them alongside shoes and belts

before zipping it shut.

It's time to go home. And so my heart,

on tiptoes, begins to look west,

anticipating joyous reunion with the Dear Ones

to whom I'm joined.

It's time to return to my village, my people, the Ones

to whom I'm joined.

Whom I carried within while I've

pilgrimed through Kenyan land.

And yet, I depart with stowaways, who hide in a newly

vacated space within my heart.

They've migrated to that place which opened up

when some part of me-my heart, my soul?-

Declared itself Kenyan and chose to declare fidelity

to the sisters and brothers in Christ.

A holy exchange has happened.

I go, yet I stay.

They stay, yet they travel now to my other home.

In Christ!

Bryan

The Migration

During safari we saw countless animals; giraffes, elephants, lions, gazelles, zebras, and wildebeest to name a few.  The view was amazing.  The zoo really doesn’t provide an adequate opportunity to understand the beauty and grace of these fine animals.  Observing a savanna filled with these creatures, God’s handiwork is awe inspiring.

Now, try to imagine these creatures blending into their surroundings, the Maasi Mara.  Go on, try.  I’ll bet you never imagined a giraffe being mistaken for an old dead tree or zebras looking like rocks on a hillside especially when travelling with wildebeest.  God crafted every detail for a specific purpose and the results are breathtaking.

Today, the wildebeest covered the savannah as far as the eye could see.  Yet, when it was their turn to move they travelled in a straight line.  There was a clear lead wildebeest that walked in front of the herd and led the group.  There were a couple running alongside
the herd seeming to keep the group orderly.  Finally, there was one wildebeest pulling up the rear; it was managing the herd ahead while instructing those yet to make the crossing.  It was an incredible sight to witness. 

It occurred to me that when the herd sets out on their journey, the circle of life never factored in the ritual.  Though, while in route, they would welcome new life into the herd.  All would grow older, some with every step.  And, they would mourn the loss of beloved members.  The whole herd will not make the trek as some will stray too far from the herd, others will choose different paths along the way, and others will meet their death naturally or otherwise.  Nonetheless, their trek continues.

While watching the migration, I began to wonder if this was akin to the pilgrimage Moses led to the Promise Land.  Different congregations of families travelling together across miles and miles of open land exposed to all sorts of dangers.  They welcomed new life.  Some strayed from the group and were lost.  Others mourned the loss of their loved ones they lost along the way.  Yet, their journey continued.  The land of milk, honey, and promise lay ahead. 

As we navigate our daily lives, may the promise continue to be our guide.

Choosing to Care

This is my second trip to Kenya.  Last year I tagged along with a group from FPC Norfolk and this year I returned with a team from my own church.  And what I've noticed is that the first time I was here, I got exposed to so many different people, programs, and customs that I felt like a giant sponge simply trying to absorb all that was going on.  Returning for a second go around has allowed me to deepen relationships with folks who faithfully minister here in Kenya day in and day out--folks like Ruth, the administrator of Joy Village; Vinton and Linet, pastoral counselors at Nazareth Hospital; George, the principal at the Allamano School; and Michael, the director of the Holy Family Clinic.  Just as significantly, this second visit allowed me to open my heart more deeply to the children at Joy Village.

Last year, when I departed Joy Village after our two day visit, I left being very inspired and impressed by the loving care that is provided by Ruth and the house moms who have committed their lives to raising the orphaned children who live there.  This year, when our visit ended, I was even more inspired and impressed by the love and care provided there.  However, something else happened as well.  I found that my heart got indelibly imprinted with the names and faces of these children who have not only been orphaned, but have also been sexually abused and/or infected with HIV. 


That imprinting, I discovered, didn't happen on its own.  I realized when I arrived at the Village that I could be there without really opening my heart to the pain and tragedy that these children have lived through.  I could have shown up, played some games, made some crafts, and then departed having interacted with them, but without my heart being broken.  I could have been there with my heart being surrounded by self-protective measures.  And so I made a decision to be FULLY present, to open my heart, to risk feeling deep pain and sorrow.  I decided not to protect myself but to trust that if opened my heart to them, God could be entrusted with caring for my broken heart.  

And so I prepare to depart Kenya again with a heart that has been broken open more deeply.  And for that I am profoundly grateful.  Because I know that God is at work seeking to make me a more compassionate and committed follower of Jesus.  I leave Kenya not only more determined to do what I can to support the work of Tree of Lives and make a difference somehow in the lives of Naomi, David, Martin, and all the other Joy Village residents, but to allow God to transform me so that I might be a wiser and more compassionate presence with all who suffer.  For that, I am realizing, is at the heart of the gospel.  What an unspeakable blessing it is to share in the sufferings of Christ, that we might also share in his resurrection power.

Bryan Smith  

  

Keith McBain

The Simple Things in Life

Last week was a long week for the children in the Allamano School.  They had midterm exams all week.  Exams were completed Friday morning.  This particular Friday afternoon like every Friday afternoon from 1:00 p.m. – 3:00 p.m., is gym.  65 children, ages 5 – 12, are outside playing.

Armed with just a few items and a lot of love, the 6 of us headed to the school to join the kids.  Make no mistake; we were a bit nervous walking over there.  Did we have enough “stuff” for the children?  Was it the right “stuff?”  And, how would they receive us?  Intellectually, we know it isn’t about us or the stuff we bring; we know God has prepared the way for us.  We also know we are bringing the “right” stuff as we are sharing God’s love, but in that moment….

When we walked into the school yard, the kids gathered to see who these strangers were.  We introduced ourselves and listened as they repeated our names and then giggled.  George, the school principal, announced we were joining them for their afternoon activities.  We brought out balls and many of the kids gravitated toward them.  Several kids grabbed them and headed off to the outer reaches of the school yard.  Soon games of football (soccer), volleyball, and whatever games their imagination could dream broke out everywhere. 

When the bottles of bubbles were opened, kids swarmed like bees to those who had had them.  Providing opportunity for all who wanted to participate, we asked the kids to line up and take turns blowing on the wand.  As bubbles floated in the air, kids would run after them and then hurry to get back in line. 

Slowly, we introduced more activities.  The kids split off to engage in the different activity areas; chalk art, paper airplanes, balloon rockets, and jump rope.  Then it happened.  The music started.  I’m sure you’ve heard the song.  It starts with a squeal, moves into a guttural grunt, and ends with round of harmonious laughter.   This was followed by smiles that could light the night sky.  These are the sounds and the sights that can warm the coldest heart. 

The afternoon began to draw to a close.  A group of girls gathered around me on the lawn.  I asked them to teach me the song they sang while jumping rope.  They patiently fed me the words and giggled as I mispronounced them.  We sang the song over and over until I got it.  George joined us to translate.   The song was the story of a women going off to marry.  While it may be many years before these girls ever think of marrying, I pray they will remember that afternoon, the carefree hours we spent playing in the sun, the wonderful song that played in the background, and just how good the simple things in life can be.

It has been several days since we spent the afternoon in the school yard.  Looking back, it occurs to me that many people before us have ventured out on pilgrimages in search of and to share God’s love.  For most of us, it isn’t about what we have and/or what we do; it is more about being present in the moment.  And, it’s about being comfortable planting the mustard seeds, tending the soil, and having faith that others will see the love God has for us will continue to grow.