A few months ago I had the chance to go to the other side of the world: Mombasa, Kenya. We went there to partner with our friends Josh and Maggie at Lighthouse for Christ- our task was to help build a "church" near Kilifi. The church we were tasked with building was essentially a concrete slab with a tin roof and walls made out of more tin and chicken wire. Our missionary friend, Josh, told me that this structure we were going to build is "beyond their wildest imagination"- they being the church members. As you can see from the picture, many of the nearby homes were essentially mud and straw, so concrete and tin were sortof a luxury.
Each day as we worked, we had a contingent of locals who came to help. One of these fellows was named Ali, and we soon learned that Ali was actually a Muslim. Nonetheless, he was happy to work on a Christian church to make money. When I asked how much he would make for his effort, I was told probably 200 shillings. That's 3 bucks for a hard day's labor. Here is a picture of the workers- you can see Ali on the far left in the attached photo.
I was saddened by the number of kids who were at the worksite each day. I found out they weren't in school because they were either too young or their parents couldn't afford to send them. You'll see a picture attached where the kids are gathered around me. It actually looks like I am giving them a profound word or teaching them some cool phrase in English, but that's not true. In fact, all I was doing was staring at them. They stared back. It was as if I was an alien from an other world who had been transplanted to their land. Most of the kids were in tattered clothes that I would only put on my kids if it were the last thing they had. They were barefoot in most cases, and didn't seem to mind. I was absolutely mesmerized by these kids-so much so that I literally couldn't speak. I didn't know what to say to them. They had a certain sparkle in their eyes, yet at the same time, a look of desperation. It was as if they looked at me wondering if I was their Messiah, the one who would rescue them from their simple lives of poverty. I felt so helpless, knowing there was very little I could do to help them or improve their lives for the sake of Christ. I looked at them and thought of my children- I thought of the food we waste, the clean water we take for granted, and the clean clothes we have to put on. Realizing the state of things in rural Kenya made me sick at the thought of our selfish society that takes a "me first" attitude to everything. We spend so much time acquiring and consuming and storing and building while others are starving. What an eye opener.
The majority of Kenya is Muslim. I attached a picture of one of many mosques that I saw as we traveled the countryside. There are Christian churches there as well, but they are a minority. The most striking aspect of a Muslim world is the call to prayer that is heard all over the city at various times of the day. Check out the attached video.
The end of the story is about Sam. Sam is a pastor of one of the local churches, but he also is an excellent carpenter and handyman. He spoke good English, but I think preferred to speak in Swahili! Sam has a heart of gold- I was encouraged to hear him say his favorite book of the Bible is Joshua. He grinned ear-to-ear as he spoke about his admiration for the integrity and character of Joshua. I was comforted by the words of Sam, who you can see in the middle of the above picture. Before we left, he told me, "They will never forget you. Those kids will never forget you. And because the church is here now, and you helped build it, they will come to it." Wow. Maybe there was something that I had to offer those kids. Or at least I could help set up a place where one could come after me who could offer the message of the gospel to them. That would be the greatest gift I could give them. And that makes it all worth it.
