Thank you for making every moment of my life possible.  I know that all of my appreciation probably seems a bit impersonal via blog for which I apologize because I really am more thankful than you will ever know.

Our time in Mexico meant a lot of growth for me.  It was a time of just thinking about what I really believe, playing with babies like Oscarito, and the occasional trip to the downtown plaza or an impoverished village to do some evangelical outreach. Much like the States, this life was perfectly acceptable and predictable. Amen.

Such is not the case in Eastern Africa.  Nothing prompt or predictable would fit in here.  Between Kenya and uganda I can't say that I would have ever previously referred to anything casual here as being normal, average or easy at home.  Even on those lazy days when all we have to do is pull together a crusade, we are dragging.  The heat which apparently your body is supposed to get used to continues to affect us and burn our poor once white skin.  We are constantly watched by passing strangers, neighbors, friends, whatever, because we are "pretty" or unusual.  Everyone apologizes to us when we slip on a rock.  Why? Because it is not my fault, but it is.  Walking forever is wonderful until you just don't want to walk one day because you can see the sweat through your pants.  People are sick, but they are strong.  The air is heavy with oppression and the burden of incivility, but people do not want change.  Some do.  Life here is difficult and they all know it, and so did we, I guess. 

But now this is our life, and it is difficult.  However,God knows what He is doing.  These people may have the disadvantages of a society that no one would consider modern, but they have blessings that they do not recognize.  The scenery is gorgeous, if these people cannot see that there is a God than I don't know who can.  Their stuff doesn't get in the way.  Their laws don't hold them back.  Every public school has chapel time allotted.  Modesty runs the culture in a weird way.  Surviving is key for them, and it means Hakuna Matata for anything but life itself.

Surely, I thought this doom and gloom spirit wasn't over the church but the church in East Africa is much like the church in America, give or take some movement.  They like to dance when they are awake.  They live. They breathe.  They pray.  They are trapped.  This place is so caught up in doing things right that they have missed the concept of grace.  They are so greedy that they have blinded themselves to what giving really is.  They are so stuck on telling people about Jesus that they forget who He is; they forget to love people.  How many people in the church are missing the point? The pastor of the church we were at this week had two wives.  Now, before you go crazy, let me tell you that this is not a common occurence in the church here but an exception to the rule.  We were absolutely appalled, but we have homosexual pastors amidst American congregations and if the Africans knew, they would think we were a strange cult going under the guise of Christianity.  So, this wonderful Easter we were taken back to the basics when we celebrated the rising victory of our King very much alone.

John 11:25-26  Jesus said to her,"I am the resurrection and the life.  He who believes in Me will live, even though he dies; and whoever lives and believes in Me will never die.  Do you believe this?"

(This reminds me, inevitably, of Three Musketeers)