Reflections in the Glass

I do not know Luke, but reading his posting below makes me feel so connected to him.He is a Harding student participating in the Harding In Zambia program this semester. Luke writes of struggling with introversion and great doubts of why God chose him to experience this 'once in a life time' adventure. I greatly appreciate his honesty and transparency. I think the majority of us feel overwhelmed at times when we consider how and why God would use us, consider us, even desire us in His Kingdom. I hope I get to meet Luke when I visit the Harding campus later in the year. He speaks my language.

Nora

Reflections in the Glass

by Luke Larsen

I have a tiny shard of glass in my toe. A glass bottle broke in my room nearly a month ago, sending glass everywhere, and three weeks ago as I was running my feet over the rug like the dummy I am, I felt a shooting pain in my left big toe. I knew immediately what I had done, but after massaging my toe ever so gently I was sure that nothing had been left under the skin. I went about my day as normal, but I would occasionally have a sharp pain in that same toe. As any reasonable person would do, I diagnosed myself as having a glass splinter that would not decompose for millions of years securely secured under my skin. I took the necessary steps (e.g., not wearing my Chacos because they irritate my toe, learning to walk with that toe raised off the ground, and not walking barefoot in my room anymore, among other things) to learn to cope with this glass in my toe. Although I’ll occasionally jump and wince when I accidentally rub the toe wrong, I find that I can function almost as well as a Non-glass Toe (as we in the glass-in-toe community call people without glass splinters in their toe).

I also have a glass shard in my brain, in my thoughts, a shard much larger and much more intrusive than any physical glass shard in any toe. Like the splinter in my toe, I have learned to cope with this megashard that permeates every aspect of my life, every social interaction I have, every decision I make. This shard is the shard of doubt, the doubt of myself, of my abilities, and specifically here in the HIZ program it is manifested through my rather severe introversion.¹

The glass shard in my head talks to me. It says, “Luke, you’re an introvert in a program designed at its core for extraverts. Why are you here? Why are you robbing a much sought after spot from someone who would use his time much more wisely than you? Why do you take naps several times a week? Why do you sometimes miss out on a great opportunity for outreach by staying back at Namwianga when everyone else leaves?”

In addition, other people talk to me, not directly, but their words speak to me. They say, “Don’t ever miss out on an opportunity to go to the Havens/clinic/outreach/Havens/Havens/Havens. If you feel tired, suck it up. You can sleep when you’re dead. If you don’t feel well, suck it up. You’ll never have an opportunity like this again.” And this feeds my doubt. Deep inside I know that I can’t keep up such a sprint for very long. Yet at the same time I feel guilty whenever I go to my room to read or to nap or just to listen to some music, because I know that I truly am missing out.

However, as guilty as I feel temporarily isolating myself from the group (often at inopportune times) in order to preserve my already worn-thin sanity, it’s the normal introvert response to overwhelming involvement. The fact of the matter is that no matter how hard I try, if I over-involve myself, I will literally have a mental breakdown.

The first question, the question I ask myself daily, “Why are you even here if you can’t handle the pace?” still rings incessantly in my mind. I’m unsure of the answer. In a program so designed around going and going and going and going, in a culture so designed around community and people and being around people and doing things with people and participating in rituals and programs with people, it can certainly feel like there is no place for the introvert in HIZ. But one third of Americans are introverts, and that brings me comfort. Out of the twenty-six HIZers, statistically eight and two-thirds of us are introverts to some extent.

This doubt is what causes me to feel and to ask these things. Being an introvert has nothing to do with it. If there was no doubt in my mind about my place in HIZ, I wouldn’t even think twice about my introversion. Alternatively, if I were an extravert, the doubt would find something else to feed off of. The doubt is simply there and causes me to look for an excuse, a scapegoat, and the lot falls on my introversion, just as it could have fallen on any one of my other traits.

Eventually, hopefully, the glass shard will work its way out of my toe. I’ll be able to wear Chacos again, walk completely normally, and share stories of “a mighty piece of glass that pierced my toe so violently that I feared I would never walk again.” Without the constant reminder of what glass pieces can do to a man, I’ll begin to walk barefoot on the floor of my room once more. When I’m an old battle-worn grandpa, I’ll harken back to the good ole days where walking to and from school uphill both ways with glass shards in my toe was the norm. And eventually, when I’m very old, I’ll forget all about my glass splinter, and my life will be peaceful.

Likewise, the glass shard in my mind, the doubt that tells me I’m somehow not good enough to be used by God, will likely eventually come loose. Here’s the thing: Everyone has a glass shard in their mind, an insecurity of sorts, whether that’s low self-image, pride, lust, overwhelming sorrow, or a multitude of other possibilities. While these are all terrible and can in turn cause questions and other insecurities to arise, they all have the potential to work their way out of one’s life, and in the process of removing the shard from one’s life, lessons and principles and knowledge are gained. Transformation is a real thing. It happens. I’ve seen it happen. We’ve all likely seen it happen.

The glass shard in my mind says one thing, but the mind in which it lives says something else. The shard says, “Don’t put yourself through this program that is obviously ill-fit for you,” but the mind says, “Luke, you is kind; you is smart; you is important. You have a place here; you just can’t quite see it in its entirety yet.” It’s true that right now I don’t see it clearly, but I’m confident it’s there, and I’m always looking for it. Even at HIZ, the introverted doubter, the boastful extravert with low self-worth, and everyone in between have value. I know it.

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1. For fear of sounding melodramatic or whiny, let me qualify some things. First of all, I will be writing from my perspective because that’s the only perspective I know well enough; I’m not saying that these issues are solely my own. Second, the Western world is designed around extraverts. This is fact. When the West says, “Be outgoing and full of energy” in order to get and secure your position in a good job, in order to participate in all the programs possible at school, in order to easily make friends, the extraverts of the world are ready to meet those challenges, and indeed they’re not really challenges at all if that’s how you get your kicks. The West rarely says, “Take time for you in order to recharge” because how does that benefit the world? How does that progress technology? How does that further relationships? It doesn’t, so it’s often shunned. It’s hard to measure, but allegedly one third of Americans are introverts. One third of Americans are living in a world ill-designed for them. Third, lest anyone think I’m inherently against introversion, I am not and I can’t even imagine being any other way. ↩

Pictures we didn't know existed...

The group at Victoria Falls (Hope--back row, middle right, pink shirt-1 month ago)




Phillip Habeggar, childhood friend, leading sermon on Solomon (1 month ago)


Namwianga Clinic


Mosquitto net covered bed with additional visitor. This is how Hope sleeps :)


Group having devotional in the morning. Hope is the girl in the green shirt in the right lower corner


Decorations for the George Benson Christian College graduation ceremony

Today four of our students and myself piled into a truck with two other Zambian medical providers to finish off the national measles campaign week. Every day we have sent four or five students out into surrounding villages to administer the measles vaccine to all kids between the ages of 6 months and 14 years old. Over the course of this week around 4,000 shots have been given. Our students are now very experienced in giving shots. What a blessing to work alongside the Zambian nurses and clinical officers and learn from them. They have been great this week to teach our students how to give a record number of shots in record amount of time…safely. (posted about a month ago)

holding class outside because there was no electricity (about a month ago)


additional hospital they worked at (about a month ago)





Every Thursday night the girls get together for Bible study and to share their lives. Hope is the 3rd from left in back row. Posted 2 weeks ago


Clinic day

Walking to the villages

We want to give our students the most immersive experience possible, but some things hinder that…fans, electricity, flushing toilets, electric ovens, american food, motored transportation…just to name a few. So we made it possible for students to spend a night out in a village with a Zambian. They went out in groups of 3-7, depending on how many the Zambian family could host. The girls all got to stay with one of the aunties from the Havens. The boys all stayed with Patrick, one of the night watchmen.
The experience began with out students walking out to their village while carrying their food and water for the next 24 hours (walks varied from 25 minutes to 2 hours). Once at the village, they learned to cook, went and got water from the nearest pump, played with children, sang around camp fires, ate nsima for every meal and hunted snakes.
They spent the night in the hut, and woke the next morning early enough to bathe, cook breakfast, eat, and make the walk back in to the Havens by 7:00 am, when the aunties begin their shift.

Every Friday night that we have been at Namwianga we have spent it at the Merritt’s singing. This past Friday night, instead of going to their house we went out to “The Rock” and had a campfire, ice cream, popcorn, singing, and star gazing. (about 2 weeks ago)

Saturday was a free day. The students were able to sleep in, we had a relaxing breakfast, and then after packing a sack lunch, we loaded up and drove to Chris’s Farm. A group of our students came upon this farm a couple weeks back and described it as “Heaven on Earth.” So, we did our research and turns out that the Calder’s know Chris. We were able to convince them that a group of 26 college students and 5 adults would be great guest for them to host at their pool. And that is just what we did. We spend the day swimming, ultimate frisbee, picnic lunch, bellyflop contest, and relaxing. It was a great getaway for our students to have a no pressure day to rest before we make a long trip to north Zambia next week. (about 2 weeks ago)

Hello from the Northern Zambia

(originally written 10/16/2012 by a Harding student)

We’re still in Northern Zambia for a few more days and we finally have Internet connection. Our trip here has been awesome so far, but I wanted to post about something from home in Namwianga last week. So this is from last week.

This is a unique year for George Benson in that a second student passed away last week. They’ve never had two students die in one semester. (I mentioned briefly that a boy in second year died about a month ago). I didn’t know Rachel, but I saw in chapel and at choir how much the students were affected by her death. Clifford, one of the students in third year, prayed in chapel the day after she died. I don’t remember everything he said, but it was so touching. I cried just listening to the sweet, honest prayer. He said,

God, our hearts hurt. You answered our prayer, but this is not the answer we asked for. Open our eyes to understand. She was not yet yet stable. She did not yet have a family and yet you took her anyway.

So we were really saddened by that. Also, we took a trip to Choma the other day. It’s about double the size of Kalomo and about 70 km away. Since its significantly bigger than Kalomo, it’s not as much of a novelty to see makuas (white people). Unlike in our hometown, no one followed us around or hassled us everywhere we went.

My two favorite things about our outing were #1 the citenges and jerseys were so cheap! Usually, people jack up prices because of our skin color. But each time I asked “maalinzi eci?” (how much is this?) I was told just 10,000 Kwacha ($2). So that was exciting. And #2… people got so excited each time we spoke Tonga. I’m not saying my vocabulary spans past 25 or so words (well, my useful vocabulary anyway. Yes, I know words like zebra, elephant, buffalo, and giraffe… but none of those are likely to help me in the market), but everyone loved when we’d greet them and ask about their days. I loved seeing the face of one elderly woman light up to reveal her toothless smile when I bent down lower than her, shook her hand and asked “Mwabukabuti” then smiled and said “Twaluma meningi, umbubo!” (thank you very much, bye!). As we’d walk, we heard people exclaiming “Makua…. Citonga!” we were glad to defy a small part of the stereotype white people have.

Jeremy said he got similar reactions as he carried mealie meal (cornmeal made from white corn that is needed for making nsima and porridge) over his shoulder through town.

God's Family

by River Campbell
I barely have time to fit all my activities in a day. Running from one event to the next, my day full to the brim, when do I actually see God? In Zambia, I’m away from my busy, exhausting life. One of the joys of being here is that living in another culture opens my eyes to the previously unappreciated. I am actually able to slow down, see God, and appreciate seeing His presence in the people around me.
I found myself sitting in a chair on the porch looking at someone I have never met and know nothing about. She is a Zambian and a student at George Benson Christian College. After introducing ourselves and spending time in small talk, we found common ground. She was a tutor for a girl in last year’s HIZ group. Then, her next statement caught me off guard. She said, “Oh, I have prayed for you and hoped that God would send me a dear friend that I could grow closer to and have a spiritual relationship with.” Wow. That was not what I was expecting! In that moment, I saw God because He was the common ground.
I walked into a house belonging to someone I have never met. There were plenty of people I didn’t know and I was quite intimidated to meet them. I was not prepared for what was about to happen. A song was led and voices rang out in praise, both Zambian and American, young and old. That moment of discomfort quickly vanished, and I couldn’t have felt happier and closer to these beautiful people. I soon met them after a night of singing, making me feel even closer to God. I felt at ease with people I had only met a few hours before. They made me feel welcomed and poured out their hearts to God with me. I saw God in that time of fellowship.
After worship one Sunday morning, I ducked my head and walked out of the dim hut. The line had already started forming long before it was my turn to greet every single person that had worshipped at church that morning. I looked into the faces of each and every person; it brought a smile to my face and tears to my eyes. Although we could not get past a simple “hello” and “how are you,” I still felt joy, like I had known them for years. When I got to the end of the line, I turned around and saw some ladies singing and dancing. I joined in, and they taught us what they were singing. The joy and closeness I felt with these sisters just swept me away. Once again, I could see God in the faces and hearts of my brothers and sisters rejoicing in God.
After all of these moments, I realized that the same God I worship is the same God they worship. We are thousands of miles from home, yet I feel at home because we are bound together in the Lord. This is my family. Seeing Christ takes on a whole new meaning to me. It matters because God’s family extends past my family and my church family back home. It covers continents and oceans that I have never seen or crossed. Through all of the fellowship and experiences I have encountered in my short time here in Zambia, I have seen God in my Family.

A Glimpse

by Kaitie Wood
Cecilia Mukonbwe is an auntie at haven three. She works three nights and three days each week with Thursdays off. On her most recent free day, she allowed four college students to accompany her back to her home for 24 hours. She had spent the whole night prior taking care of the babies in haven 3. She scrubbed the walls and floors, cooked food, washed bottles, washed/folded laundry, and attended to the needs of the babies throughout the entire night. I was lucky enough to be one of those joining her after her long night.¹ We met her at 10 hours (that is, 10:00 a.m.) at the havens and began our 7 km trek to her home in Mutala. It was an easy walk, but very tiring. I couldn’t help thinking about how the woman leading us walks this path two times every day, and many times after a night without sleep. The morning we left with her was one of those sleep-deprived walks.
Upon arriving, Cece quickly introduced us to all of her children, nieces, and nephews and then began to cook what would be our lunch.² She cooked for hours only stopping to help us communicate with the kids when we were having trouble. The nsima, chicken, and chips (French fries) were delicious. After lunch, we traveled with our host to her garden about a mile away. Her garden is right next to the community water pump. We pumped water into our many buckets and watered her expansive garden. It was clear that she is a skillful gardener. Her plants are well cared for and intelligently protected. The minute we returned to her home with our water-filled containers, which we carried with our hands and she carried perfectly balanced on her head, she began to cook our dinner. She served us in her living room as she had done before and left us to enjoy our meal. While we ate, she cooked and served dinner to all of the kids outside.
After providing food for everyone around her, she finally ate for herself. While she ate, however, she continued to think about us. She roasted groundnuts (peanuts) as a snack for the four of us. We ate and talked and sang around the fire until we all needed to get some rest. Cecilia offered her bed and extra mattress (laid out on the floor) to her guests. Even though we opposed, wanting her to sleep in her own comfortable bed after a long night and day, she was adamant that we had to sleep more comfortably because we were visitors. Up before the sun Friday morning, she cooked our porridge and prepared our bath water. We ate and promptly splashed ourselves clean so that we would leave soon enough for her to get to work on time. Back at her place of work, she continued to put others before herself.
Never once did Cecilia stop thinking of others. She truly lives out selflessness like that from Philippians 2:3-4.³ She never stops working whether at work or at home. Being made in God’s image, she resembles Him through her love and concern and care for others. 1 John 4:12 explains that no one has ever seen God, but when we love we are making His love complete.⁴ I was able to see God in the life of Cecilia in such a short time. I believe that she shines his light so brightly because of her devotion to him. When I asked her about her favorite passage of scripture she quickly responded, “Ephesians 6 verses 10 through 20.⁵ I think of it every morning.” I only saw a tiny amount of this auntie’s life, but in that glimpse I was able to see a piece of the church, the love of Christ, and the beautiful determination of a woman working hard for others. She is wearing the armor of God and uses it for Him every day. The work of all the aunties here at Namwianga is inspiring. They are amazing, strong women and we could all learn so much about the art of selfless love from them.

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1. The opportunity to be even more immersed in the Zambian culture by staying with an Auntie is something that has not been done by any HIZ group prior. It is an amazing way to get to understand the home life of many women in this area of the world. Even though she would have to cook for us and provide a place for us to sleep, she was willing to do this. We were blessed to get to do this. ↩
2. In Cece’s village, everyone she lives with is related to her. All over Zambia there is a mindset of community and family with those that you live with/near, but in this instance everyone around were her actual family members. ↩
3. “Do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but in humility consider others better than yourselves. Each of you should look not only to your own interests, but also to the interests of others.” (NIV) ↩
4. “No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us and love is made complete in us.” (NIV) ↩
5. “Finally be strong in the Lord and in his mighty power. Put on the full armor of God so that you can take your stand against the devil’s schemes. For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms. Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand. Stand firm then with the belt of truth buckled around your waist, with the breastplate of righteousness in place, and with your feet fitted with the readiness that comes from the gospel of peace. In addition to all of this, take up the shield of faith, with which you can extinguish all the flaming arrows of the evil one. Take the helmet of salvation and the sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God. And pray in the Spirit on all occasions with all kinds of prayers and requests. With this in mind, be alert and always keep on praying for all the saints. Pray also for me, that whenever I open my mouth, words may be given me so that I will fearlessly make known the mystery of the gospel, for which I am an ambassador in chains. Pray that I may declare it fearlessly, as I should.” (NIV) ↩

A Few Days in Mumena

Dearest friends and family of the 2012 HIZ group,

I hope you are resting well. The sun just rose here in the North-Western Province of Zambia, and in a couple hours the group will be eating breakfast and getting ready to take split up into four groups to visit four different churches in this area. 

We are in Mumena, Zambia, in the North-Western province, fairly close to the border of the Congo. In two days we drove from Namwianga to Mumena, and got here late Thursday evening. The point of this trip is to see a different style of mission, we're hosted by missionaries who are doing church planting and development work in this area in cooperation with the local chief (who we got to meet!) and church leaders throughout the area. We're being hosted by Rick and Karen Love and Sam and Ellie Rodriguez here at the Mumena Christian Outreach Center through tonight. We leave tomorrow morning..

On Friday morning, we heard from Sam and Rick about their team's strategy for this area (as developed originally by Brian Davis and others on the team) and the story of their work here. Then Rick taught about how he and his team have dealt with witchcraft and other animist beliefs here in the area. After lunch we had free time, which we spent with the families. Before dinner, Rick and Karen shared some of their story with the group and and answered questions specifically related to "Families on the Mission Field," i.e. what is it like to have kids and raise a family in Zambia. 

As dinner was about to get started Friday night, Chief Mumena, the leader (by heritage/descendants) of this area, came by to welcome us to his chiefdom. He spoke some about how British colonialism had come in and worked with, through, and around the historical kingdoms in Zambia, and after Zambia gained independence, how the area chiefs work together with the elected officials to govern. It was fascinating to hear his story, a Christian who was chosen by the tribal matriarchs to be chief, but because of his refusal to believe in the ancestors' protection was told he wouldn't last a day on "the throne". He has used his position as chief to share his story and faith in Jesus throughout Zambia. He has even been to Abilene to share some of this story with the church who supports the work (along with others who attend the benefit dinner). We sang some songs with the chief and his wife before calling it a night.

Yesterday morning we had an early breakfast and hit the road for a two hour drive to Meheba Refugee camp. This camp has a long history, and, by land mass, is one of the largest in the world. It is so big that, as you drive through it, it looks like you are driving in any other part of the bush in Zambia, with different small collections of mud huts and other small shelters. 

We went to visit one of the churches at the camp who had set up a "gospel meeting" with singing, preaching, and praying. Three of our guys preached (and were translated into Swahili) and our whole group performed about ten songs, some in Tonga (which isn't spoken as much in this province), one in Ubale (more common up here), one in French (spoken some by those who speak swahili), and English. It was a lot of fun, this group of students is incredible. Kaitlin Plachy taught us "Lord, Reign in Me" in French as we drove up to the camp, and a few lessons in French phonetics later, we were performing it. When I get the chance I'll post part of the video I took of us singing.

While it was similar to other meetings we've been to so far, the differences are profound. When we start to ask questions of why people have ended up where they are, the refugees have completely different answers. While we didn't get to hear many of their stories, we did get to eat, sing, pray, and read with them, and all the while think and ask questions about systemic injustice and a Christian's place in all of this.

We got back to the Mumena Mission yesterday evening and completely shifted gears. We ate dinner, celebrated River's birthday with a delicious cake,  and got dressed up to help the American kids celebrate Halloween. All of our students got dressed up and had candy to give out, and the kids came by and "Trick-or-Treat"-ed. After visiting all of the student rooms, they walked over to their playground that had been set up as a "Spooky Playground" and had fun being led through that. 

We closed last night with some singing before showering and going to sleep. 

This morning we're splitting up into four groups to visit 4 different churches in this area. Even though we'll be in smaller groups, the "Harding Chorus" will likely be asked to perform in each location, so we're splitting up our guys and girls as best we can to perform songs. I love hearing our group sing and hearing our guys preach; it will be impossible this morning to hear it in every place, but you can be proud of your students who are doing an admirable job of encouraging both American missionaries, refugees from the Congo, Rwanda, Angola, and Burundi, and Zambian Christians wherever they go.

Well, that's the best I can do for now. Hopefully I'll have a chance to send out another update before we make it back to Namwianga on Thursday. You can probably look for some pictures in the next few days as I'm sure students will be posting things once we get somewhere with an internet connection. 

Grace and peace,

Jeremy Daggett

HIZ 2012 Field Director

Heading North: learn from missionaries & visit refugee camp

Dear Family and Friends,

Time is flying as we're now well into October. We have less than a month left in Zambia before our travel through Tanzania and Uganda. We're constantly reevaluating what we're trying to accomplish individually and collectively so that we can make the most of every opportunity while we're here. 

We ask for prayers for Petra Malmquist and her family. She had to go home on Monday morning because of a family emergency. While I can't go into detail here, I simply ask that you pray for God's peace on her as she has left our tight-knit group and returned early. 

This morning we leave Namwianga for the NorthWestern province where we'll visit the missionaries in Mumena. The purpose of this trip is to visit the missionaries who live there (http://www.mumenamissions.org/) and learn from them, seeing a different missions model from what we're used to seeing here at Namwianga. We leave this morning at 07:30 and will travel all the way through to the other side of Lusaka, and stay in a hotel tonight. As we go through Lusaka, we'll pick up Evertt Huffard, Dean/VP of Harding School of Theology; he is the final faculty member for HIZ2012. He'll be with us through the end of the HIZ program. The group actually took my Missionary Anthropology final yesterday afternoon as we've met 4-5 times a week for the first half of the semester so that we could give the time necessary to a missions class Dr Huffard will be offering during his time here. 

Tomorrow is our long day of travel. We'll leave at about 07:30 again and hope to get to Mumena before dark. We'll make some stops for fuel and for bathrooms but our goal is just to make it to Mumena as soon as possible. 

At Mumena we'll be taking a few classes with the missionaries who work there, we'll be dressing up for an early trick-or-treating with the American kids, and visiting some of the churches in different villages. We visit one of the world's largest refugee camps while we're there and will meet and worship with the Congolese Christians. 

After several days in Mumena, we'll take our time coming back, staying the night at 3 different places and enjoying some time of relaxation before we get back to Namwianga to finish off the semester of classes. We plan to arrive back at Namwianga sometime on Thursday, the 18th of October. 

Most of the group will be out of contact (by phone or email) during much of this trip, but you may always contact me should you need to speak with any of the students. I'll be checking email regularly and will have my phone. 

As a reminder, my phone number is 011 260 965 942 697

My wife, Katie's number is 011 260 972 076 911

Janice Bingham's number is 011 260 965 942 699

While we're on the road our cell reception will be spottier, but when we're in Mumena and at our hotels/lodges along the way, you should be able to reach me without any problem.

Grace and peace,

Jeremy Daggett

HIZ 2012 Field Director 

HIZ 2012 students

How Beautiful the Feet

by Holly Sullivan

I’ve heard the metaphor of the church being like the actual body of Christ my whole life. Since I can remember, I’ve been taught that each person has something to contribute to the Kingdom of God. Some are good listeners while others are better encouragers. Some have the ability to meekly serve, drawing people to Christ, while others speak with boldness proclaiming the wonders of God’s goodness. Our group of 27 students proves this metaphor to be spot-on. We have quiet servants and those ready to initiate conversations; we have people who speak the truth of God into the lives of others and those who lead by their love.

One particular portion of this metaphor has shown itself to me more and more as the days keep progressing: the feet. Something so unkempt, but so necessary. Feet. The part of the body that takes the Word and the power of God to people across every border.

Our group has encountered so many people here who perform the duty of the feet: Meagan Hawley, a woman who has just moved back to the Namwianga Mission indefinitely so that she can give her whole being to the children at the Havens. Fighting day and night for the orphans’ lives. Roy and Kathy Merritt, servants who have dedicated years upon years of their life to the boys of Eric’s House and prison ministries. In their sixties they are still serving the youth of Namwianga. Not to mention the countless Zambians here at Namwianga who have been touched in some way by Jesus Christ, and are taking it upon themselves to spread what they know to their companions and families. It is remarkable to meet people who have been raised in an incredibly different context, whose upbringing, struggles, and experiences are so foreign to what I know. To see them act in a way that truly represents the transformational power of the Good News is a challenge. It causes me to look inward and see what it is that I am doing for the Kingdom.

If I had heard the stories of these people about a month ago from a blog like many of you are reading, it probably wouldn’t impact me very much. In fact, it would almost seem like a lifestyle that is not only unlikely, but unrealistic for me to be a part of. But that was a month ago.

Being here at the Mission, seeing, listening, touching these people through whom God is doing incredible things, has made the feet come alive to me in ways I thought were fiction. The missionaries and the Zambian people that are working together here in Kalomo are common people. When I met them there weren’t any beams of light coming off of the crowns of their head or any background music. They are people like me. Meagan laughs at the same things I do. Mr. and Mrs. Merritt love to sing like I do. The Zambian people love to play sports and get excited when they make a new friend just as much as I do. These aren’t artificial robots living in a whimsical African world. These are real life people like me doing things that frighten them, just like it would frighten me. I am witnessing the church in action. Seeing people actually doing what the Bible talks about. And I’m realizing that I am also capable of doing it.

Having all of these observations and realizations makes me question and reassess what body part I actually am. Am I a foot? Is this kind of life that the Lord has in mind for me? I’m starting to notice characteristics in myself that would fit perfectly into this kind of living. I love my family more than life itself but I don’t find myself becoming weary with homesickness. I love my friends and the life I have back home, but I don’t find myself dying to keep in constant communication. I feel fulfillment and purpose when there are 6 toddlers crawling and drooling all over my legs. After having several conversations with a few of the people here I feel like I’ve found bonds I’ve been looking for my whole life. This is not to say the people here are better or that friends from home lack anything. It is simply the culture of relationship taking precedence over time. It allows connections to flourish the way they were meant to.

So have I encountered these people to confirm my calling? Was God’s purpose for me coming on this trip to show me what I wished I could do, I actually can do? There are so many of these kinds of questions and uncertainties from a number of people in our group and we are scrambling to try and keep all of our thoughts together. If this is the part of the body some of us are supposed to be, how will God let us know? What will tell us if this is right or if we would better serve as something else?

I wish I knew the answer, but with two months left I’m still on the journey. I haven’t figured out what or where or how long. And although I don’t know right now, if I keep searching to know the heart of God and figuring out who He is, maybe I can learn what it is He expects from me. I am supposed to be a representation of Him. So to know Him more intimately will give me insight on what it is I am supposed to be. And whether it is a mouth or an ear or a foot, in Africa or back home, I pray that I will have the courage to contribute everything I have to offer to the work of His body.

Having Nothing, Yet Possessing Everything

by Aubrey Hitt

I looked at the giant trashcan that was once full of water and marveled at how fast it had emptied; that water was what we just used to flush our toilet.

According to the Population reference bureau, 20% of the world’s population consumes 80% of the world’s resources. When we went from being part of the 20% to being surrounded by the people who received so little, I started to notice the value of conserving what we’ve been given. I’m used to thinking I’m “going green” when I recycle my paper, but now I have had to radically change my definition. When we were asked to conserve as much of our water as possible and be conscious of how many resources we use in general, I didn’t realize how difficult that would be.

As an American, I am used to using gallons of water every day on one shower, but being here and trying to conserve we now turn off the water between lathering and rinsing. We have also perfected the art of using the minimum amount of internet when we check our e-mails. We log off, write out our reply on Microsoft Word, then log back on and paste it to the email just so we don’t have to spend the entire time online. Plastic water bottles, though simple and in abundance, become precious commodities when you live where you can’t always find clean water, or where your water depends on pumps that depend on electricity. I always save my water bottles for when the electricity goes out so I can still brush my teeth at night.

Recycling takes on a whole new meaning here. Kids like to use water bottles, a stick, and container lids to make their toys. I remember my mom, a teacher for three-year-olds and expert on kids’ toys, once telling me that kids will be given this really expensive toy but when there is a simple, big box in sight, the expensive toy is forgotten in favor of the box. I can see the truth in that statement here in Zambia as well: what we think of as trash isn’t trash, it has the potential to be a kid’s favorite toy.

Although we might look at these kids playing with dirty water bottles and sticks and think how poor they are, we need to understand how joyful these people are. Having a lack of materials or resources does not mean a lack of blessings, joy, or love. On the contrary, the people here use what little they have and share it with one another.They joyfully take the little they have to glorify God. While sitting in a mud bricked, thatched roofed church on benches made of dirt we view the people of that congregation as poor, but they have been so joyful. They shout “Amen” after almost everything. After the worship service and greeting line, they stayed together and danced to their praise songs. They were filled with joy even though they had very little, materially speaking.

Although I still have many more resources than most people here, I have started to learn from them how to be more conscious of my resources. The most important thing these people are teaching me is how to be joyful even when I don’t have everything I want. Although these people don’t have many possessions here on earth, they are being equipped with a glimpse of the joy they will experience in heaven. Because they have few treasures on earth the treasures they receive in heaven will be that much greater (Matthew 19:21) and their inheritance in heaven will last them for eternity (1 Peter 1:4).

Learning to be responsible with the things we’ve been given, and trying to be less of the 20% keeps our gaze on more important things. I don’t need to have my light on continuously, keep my phone plugged in every day, or even have running water to find joy in Christ. I just need a willing heart and a church family surrounding me to remember that love and joy are the most blessed treasure of all.¹

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1. The title of this post comes from 2 Corinthians 6:10 ↩

A Chump in Africa

by Philip Habegger

Africa: the land where men are made. Only the tough can survive in such an unforgiving place. With fearsome, snarling creatures and mystical people, Africa is where the brave and adventurous go. Guys with wild beards, earthy clothing, and really expensive gear from REI come to prove their ability to conquer Kilimanjaro. They come to show how gnarly their gnarliness is on the wild Zambezi. Men walk around barefoot and without insect repellent so they can get strange parasites like hookworm and Malaria and then take expensive medicines to treat it just so they can go home and perhaps one day in a manly conversation say something like, “Oh yeah, well I had Malaria once. Beat that.” Dudes come to arm-wrestle aborigines in studly contests of manhood (that doesn’t really happen, Seth and I just wish it did). Africa weeds out the spineless from the vertebrates.

Or I guess that is what some think about Africa. Maybe that’s what I thought. I’m not telling. But I sure have learned my lesson since I’ve been here. There have been plenty of experiences that I have had thus far in Zambia to remind me that I am not Matthew McConaughey. In this post I will try to outline some of the more savory ones, even though every day is a reminder from God that he is the real tough guy, the one with all the power.

My family has a really cute nickname for me, “chump.” I have grown up being called that, not in a “my family likes to hurt my feelings” sense, but in a “Phil, you are in actuality a chump,” sense. Chump, per my family’s definition, is something like: “He who acts, smells, and looks like a monkey.” It goes along with the definition of chimp really. During my time here I have observed the misfortune of chumphood follows me still, partly my fault for being excessively goofy, partly fate. You can take the doofus out of America, but he is still a doofus in Africa. I really just think I have seen Ace Ventura: When Nature Calls too much.

The first hardship that befell me (besides the curry fish on the flight here) was the international travesty of my misplaced luggage. I call this adversity “international” because my bag was sitting in Amsterdam somewhere, whereas I was in Lusaka, Zambia. I just knew that this would happen to me. If you, the reader, had heard any tales of the smelly boy who did not shower for two weeks at HUT, then just know that that is the same boy who didn’t have his luggage for two weeks at HIZ. At first I was all like, “Yeah! This will be so hardcore!” Then by the end I was more like, “Jeremy says my bag is coming tomorrow”, and I said this for about five days straight. After two weeks with one pair of pants, two t-shirts, no contacts, and no toothbrush, I was quite glad to wear some of the six other articles of clothing I brought in my suitcase (just kidding, I brought more like nine total), stop wearing glasses, and still not brush my teeth. It was a humbling experience not to have those things that I was expecting to rely on. Just try and look cool when you are dressed monochromatic. My dad had this to say regarding the incident, “My theory on the suitcase is this….. What did your suitcase have that the others did not? Rabbit skins.”

The second suffering I faced is one we now affectionately call “Potato Eye.” So I just woke up one morning, and I couldn’t see out of my left eye. I wasn’t too worried because sometimes you get goop in your eye or sometimes your eye gets a little tired just after waking. But I knew something was up when my roommates starting asking, “What is wrong with your face?” and then they erupted into laughter. It was pretty bad. My left eye was completely swollen and huge. It wasn’t an allergic reaction or an infection or a black eye. My eye just decided it wanted to dominate my face for the next three days. If trying to be chic whilst monochromatic for lack of clothes was a struggle, then trying to have dignity with an eye that looks like a dollop of mashed potatoes is like fighting Ninja Turtles for pizza. The faces on those who passed by were priceless.

Then there was the time I got cornrows. I thought I was looking pretty tough, pretty thug, but then I was informed by the locals that only girls got their hair braided. Men have shaved heads. Got some weird looks for this one too. Then there was feeling like I had a squid constantly squeezing the juice out my head. I also suspect the Malaria symptoms I felt the day after I had the three hour basket weaving on my noggin was somehow related to the squid. It may not have been the best decision to get cornrows, but it’s all in the learning process.

As you can see, I have received my small dose of humbling experiences here in Zambia—some my fault, some happened because that is how life works. Africa is just like any other place; it’s not just the home of elite big game hunters, adventure seeking Rastafarians, or baby-crazed college drop outs. It’s the home of goofy people like me who make mistakes like everyone else. The craziest thing, in my opinion, out of all of this is the fact that I wouldn’t trade these experiences for anything. Not because they make good stories, but because I learned really valuable lessons. And that is what is so important about cross-cultural experiences. God can use the miscommunication and unfamiliar ground to teach us—God taught me that he is God and I am some silly, naive kid who thinks he is the coolest thing since sliced bread. God taught me that when you pray for humility, you will get it, and probably will not like it. Proverbs 16:18, “Pride goes before destruction, a haughty spirit before a fall.” I am just glad that God saw it fit to humble me in such minor ways. God is such a wise and good father; I am grateful that he rebukes us before we go too far off the deep end. He loves us so much that we do what he can so that we may stay in communion with him. Paul tells us this in 2 Corinthians 12:9-10:

But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

I, too, rejoice in my infirmities and my calamities because in those I am reminded that God is the one who empowers me.