Bɛ na sepea joko doto

Something amazing happened last weekend, something that we have been praying for. Something that flew in the face of Satan's plans for the Baka. Something filled with sorrow and with hope.

I participated in a brand new kind of celebration. It was a "bɛ na sepea joko doto." Roughly translated, that means "celebration to rejoice in a life well lived." It was the first Baka celebration of its kind, and it was to celebrate the life of my friend Dali.

Let me tell you why this celebration was the first of its kind. Normally, when a Baka person dies, public mourning begins immediately. The first thing you would notice is the wailing. The family congregates in the family home around the body of the deceased and welcomes visitors. Every time a new visitor arrives, the wailing begins again. This goes on day and night. Often the grieving includes laying blame on someone for causing the person's death, or even accusations of killing them outright by sorcery or poisoning. Sometimes the grief gets violent. Drumming, dancing, singing and drunkenness take place all night long. Family members from distant villages are sent for, and often the initial mourning period is extended until they arrive, causing this period to last two or three nights. The body is usually buried in the morning or evening about 24 hours after death.

After this initial time of mourning, there is a second death celebration called the 6th day. It is celebrated sometime during the weeks or months that follow the death. This celebration is characterized by spirit worship, drunkenness, carousing, marital unfaithfulness, fights and general evil.

My teammates and I wanted something different for Dali's funeral. Dali was a woman of God, and this kind of celebration would not honor her or the God she served so faithfully. We presented the idea of a different kind of celebration to her husband and he was visibly relieved at the possibility. He immediately took us to Dali's family to formally present the idea to them, and they accepted! We set the date and made the preparations. And then, we prayed. My specific prayer was that God would strengthen the faith of believers in our little village and that He would add dramatically to our numbers.

On the day of the celebration we arrived to find a palm leaf shelter erected in front of the home of Dali's mother. The food, to be shared after the service, was already prepared, and people were beginning to arrive. The service started off with prayer and singing. People were joyful. There was a spirit of fellowship. Nestor had asked me to testify about how Dali had placed her life in God's hands, so I had prepared a little message about the cross of Christ and how Dali had faithfully carried her cross, trusting God through good times and bad. I challenged those who were present to live a life of faith in God as Dali had lived, and I was overjoyed to hear Dali's mother, father, and brother commit publicly to trusting God. Barry also shared a message about “how beautiful are the feet,” which was encouraging and challenging to all. Others shared testimonies and commitments to live for God. There was more singing, more prayer, more celebration of a life of faith. Food was served, and people stuck around for a bit more fellowship. God was glorified. Our prayers were answered. Dali's life and trust in God were truly celebrated. The faith of the believers in Mayos was strengthened, Dali's family decided to follow Christ as well, and our hope is that the number of believers in our little village continues to grow.

This celebration was the first of its kind, but I hope it will be the first of many. As God's hope spreads among the Baka, traditions will change for the better and God will be further glorified among the Baka.

A Prayer of Hope in the Midst of Sorrow

Our little congregation lost a dear saint this week. Dali had a gentle, playful spirit. She was youthful, in spite of chronic illness. She was steadfast in her faith, trusting God in the face of immense trials. The day before she died, she said, "If this sickness is going to kill me, I wish it would hurry up and do so." But her words were not words of one who has no hope. She knew that when she died, she would enter glory. She knew her suffering would be finished. She knew that she would finally meet her Savior face to face. Her unwavering trust in God has served to strengthen my faith.

Dali's husband, Nestor, is equally steadfast in his faith. He and his wife have been shining lights in our little community. We can never be absolutley sure of another's salvation, and I often wonder how many true Baka believers we have in our little church, but because of the fruit I have seen in their lives, I have no doubt that Nestor and Dali's faith in Jesus is sincere. Though Nestor is my little brother in the faith, he has been in the position to instruct me on more than one occasion. His knowledge of the Word of God and his wisdom are true gifts to the church. He is the only qualified elder in our area, and he joyfully and faithfully completes his pastoral duties day after day.

It strikes me that, humanly speaking, Dali's death does not make sense. Why did God allow her to suffer so much? Why did she have to die? Why couldn't she experience more earthly blessings? Why did God take her away from her husband and her daughter so early?

This seeming inconsistency is not lost on the members of our little church. Nestor, pastoral even in his immense grief, told me that some of the members of our congregation are experiencing destructive doubt. They have been saying things like, "Look how she trusted God. She refused traditional healers and forest medicine. But how has it benefited her? Now she is dead. She was never truly healed. Who is this God anyway? God who!? God who!?" Some of them are experiencing a crisis of faith. Others seem to have completely lost their faith in God. Nestor has a genuine concern for his congregation. He desperately wants them to understand that God's ways are higher than ours, His thoughts are beyond our comprehension, His love for us is greater than we can imagine. He desperately wants them to trust God wholeheartedly. What an example of unwavering faith! In the midst of his sorrow, his concern is for his sheep.

Could it be that Dali's suffering is the very reason that her faith was so very strong? Did her illness and sorrow give her a better perspective on the temporal nature of this fallen world? Did she understand better than most that there are much greater things waiting for us after this earthly life is over? We know that Dali is finally healed. She is at rest. She is with Jesus. It gives me great joy to know that my friend has finished the race, that she is finally home. Her labors are over. Her pain is finished. She has no more tears to cry. Sorrow is but a distant memory for her now. It is my hope that others also enjoy the peace of knowing that Dali is not lost in death, but rather alive in Christ!

Dali was an exceptional person. She was one of only a handful of committed Christians among the Baka. Her loss is a huge blow to the ministry here. ...or maybe not. Perhaps God will use the doubts and fears of those who knew Dali to bring them closer to Himself. Perhaps loosing one who's faith was so strong will serve to strengthen the faith of others. Perhaps sorrow and doubt can be turned upside down.

Now is the time to pray for hope. The Baka live lives filled with hopelessness. God wants to give them hope. My fervent prayer is that sorrow and doubt would be turned upside down, that they would be transformed into hope and steadfast faith in the Faithful One.

I already miss Dali's laugh, her smile, her love for babies… I miss the little things like the way she would rub her feet together when she was sitting. I miss her steadfastness. I miss my friend. But I will see her again when we are reunited in Christ. Oh glorious day!!

Denis the Menace

This morning Annabella came home crying because an older child had stolen her snail from the fire. She and her friends often collect snails and cook them over the fire for a snack. The child who stole her treat is the older brother of Annabella's playmates. He is often around at playtime, and sometimes he plays amiably with the younger kids, but other times he can be a menace as older siblings often are. Annabella has been learning about forgiveness, so she expressed to me that she wanted this young boy, let's call him Denis, to apologize to her. I told her that we cannot make people apologize, but that I would go talk to him. Annabella often comes home complaining about Denis' latest offense, and I have recently suggested to her that she pray for him, as Jesus tells us to pray for those who persecute us. She had prayed for Denis just this morning.

It was my hope that I would be able to use this latest episode to provide guidance for Denis, who doesn't get much positive parental direction. I went out and confronted the child with his wrongdoing in front of his mother. His mother laughed, as parents here often do when faced with the shame of seeing their child's sin exposed. But as I wanted to display better discipline techniques to her, I continued. I have a relationship with Denis' mother, and we have talked about caring for and disciplining children on many occasions. I told Denis that stealing is wrong and that he should not steal his friends' food, and that I didn't want to hear about him bothering his friends again. I reminded him that he was to be kind to others. He listened to my chastening as respectfully as can be expected, stated that he understood, and then we parted ways. His mom went off to work on her field, and he went to sit under a nearby shelter.

A few minutes later I reminded Denis of the lesson he just learned, but he had his back to me and didn't respond. Then I noticed he was crying. I sat down next to him and asked him what was bothering him. No response. Was he sick? No. Did he feel sadness? Yes. What caused him sadness. No response. Did he feel sadness over the bad thing he just did? Yes. Well, OK!!! We can restore relationship here!! I told him that he can ask Annabella for forgiveness, and I asked if he would like that. Yes. Success! Thank you God for giving him a repentant heart! Baka children do not naturally come to this point so voluntarily.

So I called Annabella over and told her that Denis wanted to apologize. She accepted his apology and relationship was restored. But Denis was still sad. I asked if perhaps he was hungry. Yes. Denis and his siblings don't enjoy plenitude of food very often, and I suspected that was part of the reason why he stole the snail in the first place. It is hard to resist temptation when you are constantly feeling hunger pain. Now was my chance to show him a little kindness and hopefully communicate Christ's love to him with a small gesture of generosity. Would he like some peanut sauce and rice? Yes.

I sat Denis down on the front veranda with a bowl full of food, and he ate his meal quietly, gathering up each grain of rice before asking me to come get his plate. Was his belly full? Yes. Good. I reminded him that the conflict over the snail was over, that Annabella had forgiven him, and that he should not worry about it any more. He nodded. I went back in the house.

I'm going. This simple little statement, made a few minutes later touched my heart. In Baka culture, it is polite to announce your arrival and departure. Most of the kids, including Denis, often overlook this small gesture. But he took the time to take his leave today, and I saw a little change of heart. Perhaps this occasion will open the door for more discussions about forgiveness and love. Perhaps he will be able to better understand God's grace now. Perhaps this is the beginning of a changed life.

I didn't have any grand expectations today as I went outside to discipline a child who is not my own. Though I tried to have good intentions, I was put out by the fact that I had to deal with yet another behavior problem with the neighborhood children. I was weighed down by the fact that much of my interaction with the kids is in the role of disciplinarian. Denis wasn't the first kid that I had disciplined this morning, and he will likely not be the last. My attitude was not good, and my expectations were low. I wondered if Denis would even hear my words, or if he would continue to deny his wrongdoing as the children often do. But God surprised me. Denis had a repentant heart.

Please join Annabella and I in praying for her Baka friends. They desperately need Jesus. Pray that we would effectively communicate Jesus' grace to them. Pray that their little hearts would be open to hear God's Word, and that their lives would be forever changed.

Sunday School!!

We are praising God today that Ngelo was able to participate in a recent Child Evangelism Fellowship training facilitated by fellow missionary Stacey Hare. He began putting his new knowledge into action today with a group of excited kids. Ngelo seems like a natural in this new ministry, and I can tell he is very motivated to continue teaching.

Praise God! We have been praying that someone would emerge to teach the children, and He has provided! Please pray that Ngelo would continue to reach out to children with Sunday school and Bible clubs. Pray that we would know how to encourage Ngelo. Pray that he would be able to translate the necessary Bible verses in advance, so that the children can hear and memorize them in their own language. Pray that other adults would also take on the burden of teaching Baka children from the Word of God. And, above all else, pray that many children would hear God's Word and give their lives to Him.

A New Evil

We, on the Baka team, have always believed that now is an opportune time to reach the Baka with the Gospel. In the last few decades the Baka have gone through a difficult transition. For centuries the Baka lived in the forest. They hunted and gathered everything they needed to survive. Life was challenging, but they had the knowledge they needed to provide for their families. Then the loggers and poachers came into the forest. The plenitude that the Baka had enjoyed turned to need. They had to transition from being hunters and gatherers to being farmers. This new lifestyle clashed violently with their culture, and most have not made the transition well. Instead they have entered into a sort of subtle slavery with neighboring people groups who control the Baka by keeping them subservient.

Alcohol is used as a lure. Many Baka have become hopeless addicts. Often the Baka are paid for labor in alcohol. Sometimes they are not paid at all. I recently learned that when the Baka go into the forest to harvest peke, the nut of the wild mango which is a valuable trade item, individuals from other people groups enter the forest to get first dibs on the peke nut. They bring alcohol. So strong is the desire for alcohol that the Baka gladly sell the peke at a reduced price. Their meager earnings are often spent on alcohol as well.

Even government officials, whose job it is to help the Baka make this transition well, will bring boxes of hundreds of small sachets of hard liqueur, saying "They are lazy. They won't do anything unless we give them something to drink." That kind of backward thinking only causes more laziness and more alcoholism.

As a result of alcoholism and many other social difficulties, the Baka have become apathetic and fatalistic. They are told by others that dirtiness, laziness and worthlessness are their lot in life. Other people groups have sayings like, "you are as lazy as the Baka" or "dirtiness is for the Baka."

Since their parents are often drunk, Baka children live in chronic malnutrition and suffer from frequent, often preventable, diseases. Neglect is the rule, rather than the exception. And these children grow up to perpetuate their parents sins.

But there is a new evil among the Baka. Tramadol is a powerful medication designed to help those who suffer from chronic pain, but it is abused in Cameroon. It is sold on the street and is used by a surprisingly high percentage of young people. And it has reached the Baka as well. Young men often take the drug to give them strength to work hard. They pop 3-6 pills at a time, with no thought of what it is doing to their bodies. Some suffer dangerous seizures and other effects of the drug. But the biggest impact that tramadol has had on the Baka is to perpetuate the slavery that the Baka live under. Young men are lured to work for their non-Baka neighbors with the promise of pills. They get paid very little, but they become willing and faithful workers because of their desire for the drug.

A young non-Baka man that lives near us has taken this slavery to a new level. He has taken in several teenage Baka boys. These boys are given drugs, alcohol, stylish clothes and shoes. They are provided with a place to live. They idolize their "boss." They try to dress like him, wear the same hairstyle, walk like him, talk like him. The gravity of their situation is hidden from them. And as they remain in the service of this young man, their demeanor changes. Their eyes are often glazed over in a drug induced haze, they are becoming skinny and pale, and they no longer care about their families. It is a rain forest version of Oliver Twist.

I had the opportunity to talk to one of these young boys a few weeks ago after he became the victim of an accident. He was carrying a chainsaw on his shoulder and stumbled. The saw gave him a nasty cut on the back of the head. While we worked to repair the damage, we noticed that he was not experiencing any pain from his wound. Afterward, I sat him down to ask him frankly about his tramadol use. He admitted to taking several pills that morning. I explained to him that his drug use had caused his accident and that his body would be suffering more effects from the drugs and alcohol that he used with such frequency. He described to me the situation that he and the other boys were in, that they were supplied with food, clothes, shoes, drugs and alcohol. I expected that he would see this accident as an opportunity to leave a difficult situation, but he instead voiced gratitude for the generosity of his benefactor. I tried to get him to see reason, but I don't think he understood. I presented the Gospel to him. It is true what Paul says, that some plant and others water, but only God can cause growth. Finally I invited some others to join me in praying for this young boy and his friends. We bathed the situation in prayer and offered some advice.

Please pray for God's divine intervention in the lives of those who are affected by drugs and alcohol. Pray for the young men who are abusing tramadol. Pray for those whose lives are ruled by alcohol. Pray for wives who suffer the abuse of a drunken husband, intoxicated couples who engage in mutual domestic violence, and children who suffer both neglect and abuse at the hands of alcoholic parents. Pray that God would give the Baka wisdom to know how to escape the enslavement of drugs and alcohol. Pray that we, as missionaries, would faithfully present the truth of the Gospel as God has called us to do. Pray that God would show us how to love the Baka well. Pray for more workers to join us in the Baka ministry.

The Gospel for Sinners

At church today, we had a visitor. P is well known to all as a drunk who fights constantly with her husband and neglects her children. She walked up to the church shelter exuding a false confidence. She knew she was not in her element, but something drew her there nonetheless. She smelled of alcohol and had a looseness of tongue that often accompanies drinking. The gusto with which she tried to sing was betrayed by her unfamiliarity with the songs.

The message was about Lazarus, how Jesus raised him from the dead, but you could see the conflict that this story produced in her. Her three-year-old son died just one year ago. She spoke up and her questions were addressed. I prayed that God would give the teacher wisdom to handle the difficult situation. Another leader also addressed her, but his response was heavy on judgment and light on grace. We all know that she is a sinner, that her son, who died of measles, suffered from hunger and neglect because of her drinking habit. Most of those in attendance had been first hand witnesses to frequent drunken brawls between her and her husband. It was difficult to hear her objections and respond in grace, so more and more judgmental voices rang out. Surprisingly, she handled the verbal assault well. When the service was over, she tried to go. She hadn't received much of a welcome. The other women didn't know what to do, how to help.

I had an opportunity to speak with P before she left. We sat down and I spelled it out. "God wants to give you good life. You have sin in your heart and have done many bad things, we all have. God is the only one who can heal you and give you good life." I spelled out our need for a savior. I told her who our Savior is. I told her of God's unfathomable sacrifice, how He gave us His only Son, that He would die in our place. I told her how His blood was spilled for our sake. I explained the Gospel over and over, choosing different words, repeating key points, hoping it would penetrate her hard heart, hoping it would get through the fog of alcohol, hoping she would hear, that she would remember my words and open her heart to what God would say to her. We prayed together, or rather I prayed and hopefully she prayed silently along with me. And then I instructed her to go home and think about what she heard. I told her that she should choose her path. I encouraged her to ask God for forgiveness and choose to serve Him with her life. She said she heard me, but God only knows if she really did.

Please pray for P. Pray that God would break through the many strongholds in her life. Pray that the believers that she comes in contact with would be a loving and honest witness to her. Pray for our young Baka church, that they would learn how to reach out to sinners. Pray for the transformation that only God can provide.

It seems like everything is falling apart in our little village of Mayos. A few weeks ago, measles swept into the village, killing 4 children. Another disease claimed the life of yet one more child. Other children have suffered severe illness, injury and neglect. Mendo, after loosing her baby to measles, became very ill herself. She was expected to die and began seeing visions of spirits. She is improving, but still needs lots of prayer. Tuberculosis continues to take a toll on our friends and neighbors, claiming the life of Kweno, Annabella's maternal uncle, last week. Just a couple days later his uncle Sabone suddenly died of a mystery illness. Sabone's young daughter, Jenny, who was near death several months ago, has once again fallen ill. And yesterday Tendi, our neighbor and friend, gave birth to a stillborn child. There are many others who who are suffering in a myriad of ways.
Please keep our Baka neighbors and friends in your prayers. With so many crises, things seem to take a downward spiral. Family members are often blamed for deaths and sorcery is suspected in many cases. Apathy and discouragement seem to prevail during these times, and spiritual oppression is a constant problem.
Pray that Baka believers would be able to minister to and support those who are sick and suffering. Pray that those who have been resistant to the Gospel would turn to Christ. Pray that the ministry would continue and that the Church would grow. Pray that they would do battle with the enemy and come away as victors. Those who have turned to Christ begin to value family more, they live life well, they provide well for their children and help their neighbors. One shining star has been young Pe, who after recently giving birth to her second child, does her best to help her neighbors, cooking food for others, gathering firewood for friends, and generally being a help in the name of Christ. Pray that there would be more like Pe among the Baka.
Pray also for my missionary teammates in Cameroon. They have left North America to minister among the poorest of the poor with the goal of planting a vibrant, reproducing church among the Baka. The job is often thankless and discouraging. They face spiritual opposition and oppression. Please pray for them during this time of increased suffering as they are bombarded by desperate friends who are sick and dying. Pray for encouragement, the comfort that only Christ can bring, and strength to continue this work when it seems like everything is falling apart.

Tendi with her daughter Nu, taken about 5 years ago

Sometimes crises come at you all at once. This is the case in our little village of Mayos. There have been so many sick and dying over the last couple months. Please be in prayer for those who have lost loved ones. Pray that they would find the comfort that only Christ can bring.
This morning my friend, Tendi, delivered a stillborn child. She is also experiencing some postpartum bleeding. Oh, how her heart must hurt today. Please pray for Tendi, her husband Pajero, and their surviving children. I heard from teammates that Pajero, who has been openly resistant to the Gospel, prayed publicly for his wife today. I ache to see this family trust Christ and live their lives fully surrendered to Him. I long to see their children benefit from the love and care of godly parents. Though the pain that they are suffering right now is unimaginable, I hope that they turn to Jesus in the midst of their crisis.

picture copied from mymerrychristmas.com

“And you, O tower of the flock, hill of the daughter of Zion, to you shall it come, the former dominion shall come, kingship for the daughter of Jerusalem.” Micah 4:8 

This little known verse from Micah has become one of my favorite Christmas verses. It fills me with wonder and gratitude. Why? Because I think this little prophecy sheds light on where Jesus was born, who rejoiced at his birth, and why Mary and the shepherds were so amazed.
The tower of the flock, sometimes called "Migdal Edar" was located near, or possibly in Bethlehem. It was a watch-tower where shepherds were able to keep track of sheep. It was possibly even a birthing place for the sheep which would later be offered as sacrifices in nearby Jerusalem. It was important that these sacrificial lambs were born in a ceremonially clean place and that they were protected from injury. Could this be the place of Jesus' birth?
But what about the stable? Wasn't Jesus born in a stable because there was no room in the inn? Didn't the kindly innkeeper make room for Mary and Joseph in the stable behind his Motel 6? The word for inn used in the Christmas narrative is the same word used for guest room. It is more likely that there was no room in the family guest quarters, due to the fact that all of the extended family had descended upon Bethlehem for the Roman census. So Joseph and Mary had to find the next best place, or perhaps the best place of all. Was it a family member who helped Mary find a place to give birth to Jesus?
Where does the stable fit into the narrative? You will not find the word stable in the biblical account of Jesus' birth, so why do we celebrate his birth in a lowly cattle stall? Well, perhaps some well-meaning readers assumed that a stable was involved since a manger was mentioned. If a feeding trough was present, surely a stable was involved, right? Perhaps not, or perhaps so. The manger mentioned in the Christmas story could have been a feeding trough, carefully padded with straw or cloth, where newborn lambs were placed, or it could have been a birthing stall, where ewes birthed their precious lambs. This is likely the setting where Mary birthed our Savior, our sacrificial lamb, the Messiah.
Have you ever found it strange that Jesus was wrapped in swaddling clothes? What are swaddling clothes? Why wasn't Jesus clothed in baby clothes or the ancient Jewish equivalent? Why wouldn't Joseph or Mary have given up their own cloak or other warm garment? Some scholars believe that swaddling clothes were the strips of cloth that shepherds used to immobilize and protect clumsy little newborn sheep so that they couldn't injure themselves, so that they would remain without blemish, spotless and perfect for temple sacrifice. These lambs were, no doubt, treated with the utmost care by shepherds who knew the little furry creatures would unwittingly give their lives to atone for human sin. Could it be that our Savior was wrapped in swaddling clothes because He was to be our sacrificial lamb?
Let's go back to that verse. “And you, O tower of the flock, hill of the daughter of Zion, to you shall it come, the former dominion shall come, kingship for the daughter of Jerusalem.” It is certain that the shepherds near Jerusalem and Bethlehem knew of the tower of the flock. After all, they were shepherds, and this was an important place for them. I imagine they also knew this verse well. They may not have understood the full prophetic meaning of this prophecy, but as shepherds, they would have taken note when this prophecy was read in the synagogue. I'm sure they would have wondered about the significance of the tower they knew so well. Fast forward to the night Jesus was born.

“And in the same region there were shepherds out in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night. And an angel of the Lord appeared to them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were filled with great fear. And the angel said to them, 'Fear not, for behold, I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.'” 

What a glorious announcement! What a majestic way to hear about Jesus' birth! But were the shepherds really the unlikely recipients of this news that we have always believed they were, or were they the most likely to hear this amazing news? I think they were the most likely to first hear of Jesus' birth. Notice the last part of the angel's pronouncement, “And this will be a sign for you: you will find a baby wrapped in swaddling cloths and lying in a manger.” The symbolism would be unavoidable for the shepherds as they would have heard the words 'swaddling clothes' and 'manger,' and they would immediately know that Christ was born in the birthing place of the sacrificial lambs. There would be no searching every cattle stall in Bethlehem until they found Jesus; the address was immediately known to them.
And oh how those shepherds rejoiced! They couldn't help but tell Joseph and Mary just how amazing the angel's proclamation was, and they would not have forgotten to mention the symbolism that was so closely tied to their own profession. I'm sure they also quickly realized just who the Messiah was to be. They were no doubt faced with their own sin and their own need of a final perfect sacrifice. What a mess of emotions they must have been as they realized all of these things. What a marvel it was to Mary as she “treasured up all these things, pondering them in her heart.” What a wonder it was to all who crossed paths with the shepherds that night! What an amazing and wondrous night that was!
I am no Bible scholar. I haven't been able to verify everything I've said here, but I find that this version of the nativity is both more likely and more amazing than the typical stable scene. Read the account of Jesus' birth in Luke 2 for yourself today (this has always been one of my all-time-favorite Bible passages) and allow yourself to replace the stable with the tower of the flock in your mind. Perhaps you will be filled with wonder and gratitude as I have.
For more about Migdal Edar visit patheos.com or bibletruth.org or simply do and internet search using the words 'tower of the flock' or 'Migdal Edar.'

Dali and Debora after recovering from measles

Debora was named after the Israelite judge who lead a battle against Sisera at mount Tabor. Her father Nestor named her Debora because he wants her to be a godly leader of her people. Her mother, Dali, struggled for several years to get pregnant after contracting tuberculosis. The disease had weakened her body and caused scar tissue that made it difficult for her to conceive. She was devastated to have two miscarriages, but through it all, she trusted God saying, “God will help me.” We were all overjoyed when we learned she was pregnant. She continued to trust God through the pregnancy, refusing traditional medicine. Debora was born in May, in the middle of the night, during a raging storm to some very grateful parents. Recently both Dali and Debora contracted measles. Both mom and baby were very ill. Debora developed pneumonia and nearly died, but God was gracious and allowed her to live. We are praising God for Debora's birth and her recovery from measles and pneumonia. I'm waiting to see what God will do with Debora. Pray that God would use her mightily, as he did her biblical namesake.

Ateba (right bottom) enjoying a "tea party" with Annabella, Nu and Yuma

Ateba is 6 years old. He is a sweet introvert who desperately desires to be loved. He has tuberculosis, and he lost his mother to TB last year. His father abandoned him in our camp for several months. He was sick and lonely, but he benefited from the love we and others were able to share with him. I started him on treatment for TB, and he began to improve. Still, he wandered our camp desperate for love and belonging. Finally, his father came to get him, causing him to stop TB treatment prematurely. I pray three things for Ateba: that his father would take his parental responsibility to love and care for Ateba seriously, that he would finish his TB treatment and that he would understand that Jesus loves him and will never abandon him.

I recently sent out a new prayer letter, click here to read it.
We are in need of more monthly support. If you would like to give to our ministry so that we can return to Cameroon and continue working with the Baka, click here.

Here are a couple more adorable kids in Cameroon.

Jenny with her mom, Ndae, 
just after she got out of the hospital

Jenny was named after me. She lives about a kilometer away from us in a little encampment called Ko-o. Her family used to host weekly meetings sing praise to God and discuss Bible stories, but sadly, The family now spends most of their free time drinking and partying. Several months ago, Jenny fell ill with a respiratory infection. Her extended family was very concerned for her, but her parents didn't seek medical help. Jenny's body was weakened by this illness, but eventually her father came to me for help. I treated the infection, but the prolonged illness coupled with malnutrition and neglect left her vulnerable. The night after Jenny's baby sister was born, Jenny got malaria and started to have seizures. She continued to convulse in spite of medication and lots of prayer. As we prayed over her, I could hear, in the hearts of her father and uncles, a desire to repent of drunkenness and neglect. We took Jenny to a clinic in town where she could receive intravenous medication, and to the surprise of all, she survived. It is my hope that her extended family continues to see their need for repentance and that they serve the Lord faithfully.

Simon with Buttercup the dog

Simon is two years old. His dad, Samedi, and his mom, Pe, are young people who love to serve the Lord. They are leaders in the church, and they often go on ministry trips to share Bible stories with other villages. Simon is blessed to have godly parents.

Simon is smart, charming and adorable. He loves to make people laugh and he gives the best snuggles. He also loves to hang out with his buddy, Buttercup. Pray that God uses Simon mightily to lead many to Christ.

“And whoever gives one of these little ones even a cup of cold water because he is a disciple, truly, I say to you, he will by no means loose his reward.” Matthew 10:42
 I read this verse this morning and it caused me to recall the children of our little community in Cameroon, the children who I love and strive to serve in the name of Christ. These are children who play with Annabella, who we interact with regularly, who we love and miss.

Yuma

 

Nu

 Nu and Yuma
This sister and brother duo are probably Annabella's best friends. I delivered Yuma almost 4 years ago. He is the 6th of 7 surviving children, and his parents are expecting another child any day. Yuma has a quiet demeanor when adults are around, but when he is surrounded by kids, he can be fun and loud and has the cutest little smile. Nu, at almost 5 years old, is the leader of the pack. She is bold and bossy, but oh so lovable. She cares about others, but she has learned to survive by looking out for “number one.” Nu has been very ill at times with asthma exacerbations or bouts with diarrhea. God has been gracious to heal her little body. Both Nu and her brother suffer from malnutrition. Nu and Yuma are often left to their own devices as their parents go down the street to drink have a good time. Annabella loves to invite them over for lunch, and she has told me many times since arriving in California that she misses them. We pray that these two precious children would trust Jesus for all their needs.

Amazed

Have you been amazed by the way God works lately? I’m currently reading through a book called “A Praying Life.” In this book Paul Miller talks about the story that God weaves in our lives.
My story has recently taken an interesting and joyful turn. For years I’ve prayed that God would give me a family of my own. I’ve patiently waited and longed for an answer to that prayer. I’ve had ideas of how God might respond to my request, but I never expected what He has recently done in my life.
Six months ago I learned about a little baby girl who was struggling for life after the death of her mother. I had met her mother a couple months earlier, while she was still pregnant with the baby and struggling for life herself. Medically, there was little I could do for her and she died only 2 weeks after giving birth. When I first saw the baby, she was one month old and barely holding on to life. She was dying of malnutrition and pneumonia. With her family’s permission, I took her home with me, hoping to get her stronger so that she could finish her recovery with her family.
Her first few days of recovery were very uncertain. She weighed only 3 ½ pounds and every bit of her energy was going to trying to breathe. She didn’t even have enough strength to cry. The second night she spent with me was especially scary. In the middle of the night her breathing became more and more difficult. In spite of the medication, care and prayer that I was giving her, her lungs were barely able to give her enough oxygen to survive. It looked as if she would die, right there in my arms. I’ve seen God do a few miracles, so I decided to pray. I prayed that God would heal her body, that He would show Himself powerful, that He would give her a future and that He would draw her to Himself. Before I even finished my prayer, she coughed twice and fell into a restful sleep, breathing much better. The next morning, though she was still a critically ill child, it was apparent that God had already begun a miracle of healing in her little life. She continued to recover very quickly. I was daily amazed at the progress. She didn’t yet have a name, so I named her Annabella, which means ‘easy to love.’ My hope is that God continues to answer the prayer I prayed that night, and Annabella finds her identity in Christ.
Ten days after she first came home with me, I took Annabella to see her family. They were amazed to see how strong she was and rejoiced with me in God’s healing in her life. It was at this visit that I tried to start the discussion of how the family was to prepare for Annabella’s homecoming. However, they recognized the difficulty of caring for such a sick infant and refused to discuss the possibility. Instead they asked me to keep her longer.
At subsequent visits, I tried in vain to encourage Annabella’s family to accept the responsibility of caring for her. Baka babies are raised in leaf huts, surrounded by dirt and germs. One positive for them is that they are always breastfed, which protects them to a certain extent from malnutrition and poor sanitation. Annabella, however, could not be breastfed, as her mother had died and there was no one else who could provide her with breastmilk. Though I wished to see her reunited with her family, I wondered if they would be able to provide her with clean water, formula, food and a clean environment. I was perfectly willing to help out financially, but I feared that she would succumb to the 50% childhood mortality rate in our area.
I agonized over what to do with this little one that God had put into my care. I dreamed of adoption, but I didn't want to deny Annabella's family of the opportunity of raising her. I also wondered what kind of life she would have, raised by a single missionary woman. I could not give her a father. I prayed about this problem, and through tears sensed God telling me that He, himself, would be a father to her and that He would take care of both of us. Through lots more prayer and surrendering to God, it became clear that God was giving me the go-ahead to adopt Annabella. I went back to the family with this idea and they were excited about the possibility. They were particularly happy that she would learn English and go to school.
A subsequent meeting clarified some of the unknowns about adoption for the family and assured me that they really wanted me to go through with this, and I headed to the lawyer to draw up the papers. I had already been through the wringer while trying to get guardianship for Annabella, so I wanted to do it right this time. I was informed that I was five years too young to be able to legally adopt Annabella, so I had to become her guardian instead. This is a different kind of guardianship than I had tried to get earlier and will give me the right to take her to the US whenever I wish. It is basically the same process as adoption, but I can not change her name or her citizenship. It was a huge disappointment for me that I could not adopt Annabella yet, but I know God is in control and that He is taking care of us. There will be a hearing at the end of this week, and I will find out if the guardianship has been accepted by the appropriate authorities. If all goes well, the papers will be finished in January!
There are many more things to praise God about. Annabella is so healthy and strong. After the very difficult beginning she had, I am happily surprised that she doesn't seem to have any health or development problems. She's bigger and further along in her development than other Baka kids her age. Each time she learns a new thing, am completely amazed. Not only that, she is a true joy to have around.
Praise God with me for this new addition to my family and pray that God will continue His amazing work in Annabella's life.

We Will Dance

We Will Dance

(David Ruis)


Sing a song of celebration
Lift up a shout of praise
For the Bridegroom will come
The glorious one
And oh, we will look on his face
We’ll go to a much better place

Dance with all your might
Lift up your hands and clap for joy
The time’s drawing near
When he will appear
And oh, we will stand by his side
A strong, pure, spotless bride

We will dance on the streets that are golden
The glorious bride and the great Son of man
From every tongue and tribe and nation
Will join in the song of the lamb

Sing aloud for the time of rejoicing is near
(Sing aloud for the time of rejoicing is near)
The risen King, our groom, is soon to appear
(The risen King, our groom, is soon to appear)
The wedding feast to come is now near at hand
(The wedding feast to come is now near at hand)
Lift up your voice, proclaim the coming Lamb
(Lift up your voice, proclaim the coming Lamb)

Copyright © 1993 Mercy/Vineyard Publishing. All rights reserved. International copyright secured.

More about Mice

The other day I pulled out a rat trap for my neighbor, Sanda. I showed him how it worked and told him to keep it away from the kids. Honestly, I was not convinced that he understood my instructions. A couple hours later, I went out to talk to the ladies. I asked if they saw Sanda's new trap and they responded by showing me the rat that he had already caught. By that evening, the count had gone up to 4. And during the night, 7 more! There are still plenty of rats in the house, but the trap has become a big success. Perhaps this will be the end of the rats chewing Sanda's feet.
Another interesting comment: According to my neighbors, rats and mice only live in houses, not in traditional huts. Oh, and mice are considered good food, as long as they are caught in the forest, not in the house.

Of Mice and Feet (warning, this one is kinda gross)

-You are awake.
-I am awake.
-I want to see you.
-Here I am.
-The mice ate my feet at night.
-The mice ate your feet?
-Yes, the mice ate my feet, and it hurts badly.
-You didn’t wake up when the mice were eating your feet?
-I woke up, but they had already eaten my feet.

This is a conversation I had with my neighbor, Sanda, yesterday morning while I was tending the garden. The mice have been a continual problem in his little house. We’ve talked about solutions, including getting a cat, rat poison and traps, but none of these solutions has panned out. Lendo, Sanda’s wife, wakes up when she feels mice on her and throws them to the side. Sanda sleeps much heaver. Unfortunately, Sanda’s feet are currently paying the price. The mice have managed to chew off most of the callous and have reached the thick pad of the sole of his right foot. Though difficult to believe, the bite pattern is certainly consistent with the chewing of a mouse. The thing I don’t understand is why he doesn’t wake up.

The End of a Long Fight

While I was spending some unplanned time in the capital city, I received word that Yeye died. I’m not surprised, but it is hard to accept all the same. We’ve been caring for Yeye for the last three months. At her older brother’s request, we went to pick her up from her father’s encampment, and brought her to her brother’s encampment, just a short walk from my home. From the reports of her failing health, I expected to find a very ill child, bedbound and breathing her last breath. What I found when we showed up was a skeleton of a child, still able to walk, in spite of her severely compromised state. A quick physical exam confirmed our suspicions of tuberculosis. We expected that she would die within the week. She survived the week, though her condition was still very fragile. Each time we walked down the dirt road to see her, my ears were tuned, wondering if I would hear the sounds of the death wail as the family mourned the loss of her life. We started her on TB medications, which she could not tolerate at first, and I wondered again if she had any chance of living at all. After a short break for the sake of her weak stomach, we started the TB medications again, in addition to multiple other drugs to lessen her symptoms and improve her breathing.
A month went by, and I was amazed that her lungs, full of fluid, worked well enough to keep her alive. I was even more amazed that her greatly compromised heart continued to beat, though it was doing more than double the work it was meant to do. Her family, though they have very limited resources, cared for her the best they could.
Another month went by, and though we had seen slight improvement, Yeye declined once more as she fought the cold virus that was making its rounds in the encampment. We thought that this must surely be the end. Yet she survived even this setback.
Two weeks ago, Yeye’s brother came to tell me that she was hurting. I went to see her and found that her little heart had finally had enough. She had developed congestive heart failure. I gave her a shot of lasix to make her more comfortable and prayed that God would do his will in her life and in the lives of her loved ones. The next morning she looked much more comfortable, but she required a shot again that evening.
That night I was robbed and the decision was made to go stay with some other missionaries. On the way out, we stopped to check on Yeye. I told her where I was going and that I would be back soon. Though I didn’t expect that she would still be living when I got back, I wondered if God would choose to continue to extend her life, against the odds. He chose, instead, to allow her to die. I don’t quite understand His timing. He preserved her life for 3 months, but she didn’t live to fully understand the Gospel and its saving message. I know that God loves Yeye much more than I ever could and that He desired that she would become His child. I know that He knows best and that He does what is best for us. And I know that He is sovereign over every situation, even life and death. I don’t have to understand. I just have to trust Him and keep doing what He called me to do.
Please pray for Yeye’s family. Pray that they would see how God miraculously preserved her life during those 3 months. Pray that they would begin to truly understand God’s saving grace through the blood of His son Jesus.

Robbed in the Night

On Sunday night, the 16th of August, I had a new experience, something that is far too common among missionaries. I was robbed. Two men came to my bedroom window on that very dark night and demanded money. They claimed to be armed and threatened to harm or kill me if I did not comply. My first instinct was to pray. I prayed quite simply for help, for protection, and that I would say and do the right things. God responded by giving me all those things and by adding to it a profound peace. I complied with the thieves demand and gave them the requested amount of money, and to my relief, they left. I never saw their faces that night.
The next morning some missionary friends came to pick me up, take me home with them, and offered their hospitality for a week and a half while I debriefed and put some additional security measures in place.
On my birthday, the 26th of August, I returned with my teammate, Reda, this time with a borrowed vehicle and a night guard and supported by lots of prayers. I was surprised to find that even though I had filed a police report and the names of three suspects were known by the local community, no arrests had been made.
The very next day our friend and temporary night guard, Agustin, apprehended one of the thieves, Taya, a boy of about 16 years old. In this country justice is often served by the victim, so I was forced to take the responsibility of transporting Taya to the police station. While in town, we were also able to apprehend another of the thieves, Elese. After three days of detainment, Taya was released. Though he was involved in the robbery, he was not one of the two that were at my house that night. Another robber, and supposed mastermind of the crime, Mole, is still at large. All three of these men live only a couple kilometers from us, in a small community that we know well. They know that we are missionaries, here to help them, to bring them God’s Word, but they saw the opportunity to benefit from us by dishonest means and they took it.
Since the arrest, I have discovered that this robbery had been planned in advance, that the thieves were under the influence of both drugs and alcohol, and that I was a target because I am a single woman. I’ve also discovered that the justice system here is much different than that of North America. Much of the responsibility of justice and of physical protection is left to the victim. In fact, the victim is often charged court fees at the end of a trial, since the criminal will have surely spent all the money stolen before he is caught and will have no money to offer the court.
I’ve also discovered that all of my actions in response to this crime have consequences. If I were to simply let the thieves go, this would certainly have happened again. But since I took them in to the police, I now face unhappy family members who have threatened to practice sorcery against my immediate neighbors and who don’t understand why I cannot just forgive this violent crime instead of pressing charges.
Even through the repercussions of this crime, I continue to ask God for guidance and wisdom. I want to respond correctly to these people, who so desperately need to know Christ. I want to reflect God’s justice and grace, not human anger or vengeance. I pray that each one of these thieves would recognize their own sin and need for a savior, and I pray that their testimony would bring many others to Christ.

The Sunday that wasn’t “a Day of Rest”

Yesterday we woke up expecting a nice relaxing Sunday with an intimate church service, an afternoon nap and perhaps a walk in the rainforest. Our expectations were never realized. I slept in a bit, and after feeding the two inside cats, stepped outside to re-hang some laundry that didn’t dry the day before. I found the outside cat, Mixie, lying at the door, panting. Thinking that she is expecting kittens soon, I assumed she was about to give birth to a litter. Upon closer examination, I discovered that she had been injured by a wild animal, her injuries including a badly broken leg. So, church was postponed in order to look up feline pain medication dosages. But while in the process of researching pain medication, we had a knock on the door…
Sufayo was patiently waiting to speak with us. My heart quickened, thinking that he may be bringing bad news about his sister Yeye, who has TB (more about her later). He must have sensed my anxiety, because he had a really hard time stating his business. When he finally found his tongue, he told us that a woman had come to have her arm bandaged. We discovered that this was the same woman that we had seen a couple times about 2 weeks ago. She had come to us with a badly infected cut on her upper arm. It was already sutured, and she was taking antibiotics, but it was infected all the same. Yesterday, I was glad to see that the swelling had gone down and that our patient was much more comfortable. Since she doesn’t speak French or Baka, but only her tribal language and some Pidgin, we instructed her, in very simple English, how to wash the wound today and told her to come back tomorrow for a dressing change. I hope she understood.
Before she left, our neighbor, Angula came to tell us that his wife had an eye infection. We reminded him that we don’t do medicine on Sundays and told him to wait until our church service was over.
We gave Mixie some aspirin and went back to our little church service. We sang some songs and were in the middle of prayer requests when we heard a knock on the door…
It was Sufayo again, this time with a whole entourage of white people! You have to realize at this point that in our corner of the jungle, one rarely sees white people (except when looking in the mirror of course), so a group of 7-8 white faces was a bit of a surprise. They were French students, in Cameroon to help at a hospital and had come to greet us and see what it was that we were doing among the Baka. They got a brief explanation of our ministry and armed with the knowledge that we were in the middle of a church service, were on their way. It was already half past noon when we finally got the sermon tape going, which was entitled, “Being Willing to be Used by God.” Appropriate. It was a long sermon, so it was 2 pm by the time church was over.
Angula showed up at Reda’s door just after I left, so she was left to tend to the eye infection. She took the opportunity to also check in on a young girl with pneumonia who is visiting from another camp. She and her family have been staying with our next door neighbor for the past 3 days in order to get treatment for her illness. Lendo and Sanda, our neighbors have been very gracious to house the visitors in their 120 square foot “house” in addition to their own grandchildren.
After a quick lunch, we all came together again to tend to the injured kitty. I tried to keep her comfortable and still while Reda tended to her wounds. The boys stood by and helped by holding flailing paws and finding the needed bandages and tape. We got her cleaned up, wounds dressed, and a splint placed on the injured leg. Mixie was a good sport about it all, only trying to give me a few warning bites in the midst of all the painful meowing.
By this time, the afternoon was nearly over. We are blessed with a satellite internet connection, but it is not always reliable and we’ve learned that weekend afternoons are the best time to hook up with the rest of the world. Not wanting to miss that opportunity, we sat down to collect and send emails. I was deep into composing my emails when we realized that darkness would be falling soon and we had not yet visited our young TB patient.
We put the internet time on hold and made the short trek to see Yeye, Sufayo’s 12 year old sister, who is fighting tuberculosis. Yeye has been teetering between life and death for the last 2 ½ months while we have attempted to treat her disease with medications and lots of prayer. We were pleased that, though her condition has been getting steadily worse for the last week, she seemed to have improved ever so slightly yesterday. In addition to our patient and her family, there were also two women at Yeye’s home, strangers visiting from another part of Cameroon. One of the women, attempting to be helpful, I think, spent our entire visit instructing us on how to take care of our patient. We were happy to be able to communicate with the family in Baka, a language the women could not understand or easily interrupt.
Then it was back home to finish up the emails and start on dinner. I was cutting up some potatoes when Noah came to my window to say that a woman had been bitten by a snake…
I found the elderly woman outside, sweating profusely and quite scared. Her foot was already swelling, but she was alert and showing no signs of shock. We did our best to stop the spread of venom by using a constricting elastic bandage and electric shock, but, as we have no antivenin, that was about all we could do. For a couple of hours we monitored her pain level and vital signs, all the while concerned about her bleeding gums, which, we feared, could be a sign that the venom had reached her blood stream. There was no place for her to stay in Lendo and Sanda’s already maxed out house, so we made a place for her and a family member to sleep on our teammate’s vacant front porch.
By this time it was 10:30 pm, and neither Reda nor I had eaten dinner. I was feeling the effects of low blood sugar, so I abandoned the planned scalloped potatoes and invited Reda over for some left-over beef stroganoff. We read about snake bites in a tropical medicine book and discussed our planned action. I slipped off to bed while Reda stopped checked on our patient one more time and gave the family some nighttime instructions.

And so ends the Sunday that was not a day of rest…

Our snake bite victim survived the night, and still looked quite strong this morning, but her granddaughter, who has pneumonia, is not getting better. We were able to find a ride to the nearest hospital for both of them with our friend, Pierre, who stopped in this morning before driving to town.

Fight for Life

I remember little Yeye from several years ago when her mother was still living. A small child with the swollen belly and discolored hair of malnutrition, she was clothed in tattered rags, had a dull look on her face and was perpetually ill with fevers and ear infections. Her mother and infant sister developed TB and the whole family was treated. In a short time, her mother and sister succumbed to the disease. Yeye’s treatment was never finished.

Fast forward eight years. We received word that Yeye was very ill and were asked to go pick her up from the encampment where she has been staying and to bring her back to be with her family. I prepared for the worst and went with my teammate to assess the situation. We returned with a young lady who seemed to be on death’s door.

Yeye, now twelve years old, weighs only 20 kilograms, the same as my teammates’ preschool-age children. Tuberculosis has taken over her small frame. Her heart and lungs are working overtime, fighting to preserve life. Her skin is dry and dusky and her eyes have very little hope left in them. She has no energy to participate in the life that goes on all around her. She looks very much like a walking skeleton.

We’ve been treating Yeye for TB for 2 months now, with no noticeable improvement. We’ve been praying all the while that God would guide us and that He would heal, and we have been surprised to see that she has survived this long in her compromised state.

This week Yeye took a downhill turn. Her breathing, already quite compromised, became even quicker, and it became apparent that she had caught the cold that has been making the rounds of her small little encampment. Her poor little lungs don’t need another assault. Knowing that there is little we can do, we encouraged a good diet and lots of fluids, both of which are very taxing on a family with several other starving children. We decided that we would go see Yeye again half-way through the week.

I awoke this morning with a sinking feeling that Yeye’s condition had worsened still and a burden to pray for her. I told God that I don’t really even know what to pray any more. I’ve prayed for healing, physically and spiritually. I’ve prayed for ease of breathing, for a break from the constant work of each new breath. I’ve prayed that her family will care for her well, feed her nutritious foods and supply her with lots of water. I’ve told God that I don’t understand His ways and that I really cannot expect to understand the thoughts of the One who created all. And I’ve determined to trust Him through it all, even when it makes no earthly sense. This morning I prayed all those prayers again, with weeping and a keen knowledge that Yeye’s life hangs in the balance.

Only a couple hours after that prayer Yeye’s older brother, Sufayo, came with word that Yeye is complaining of pain in her chest and belly, that she is having trouble breathing, and that she is not eating. My heart sunk. I feared, of course, the worst. Could this be Yeye’s last day? Did we really do her any favors by treating her TB and prolonging her suffering? Did she ever see clearly the love of Christ in our efforts to heal her body?

As we prepared the necessary medications, I felt as if our efforts were futile, like I was fighting a raging forest fire with a measly little water gun. But this battle must be fought. We must be faithful to the task put before us.

I would want nothing else but to care for children like Yeye, to show them the love of Christ, to lead them to the one who gives life. But that is perhaps where I feel the most powerless. I long to share with her the love and grace and power of Christ, but I do not have the words. I cannot yet speak the language. I told God today how I want to share His Gospel of hope with Yeye and then my heart cried out, ”Lord, please give me the words!”

Yeye continues to fight weakly for life. Her heart, strained by all the work of recent months, continues to do its job, and her lungs, filled with infectious material, somehow find enough air to keep her alive. But in her eyes I see that she is tired, that she knows death may come soon.

I don’t know what our Sovereign Lord has designed to do with Yeye’s precious life. I know not whether this disease will claim her or if she will be miraculously healed; it will take a miracle. I don’t know if she will become a great warrior for Christ or if she will never know Him. I only know that my Lord is faithful and that I am called to follow His example.

Observations of a Rookie Missionary

Yesterday I went with my teammates to visit a dying woman in the encampment. Kosene had come to see us for medical help a few months ago when she developed a very severe throat infection. The infection responded very slowly to several courses of antibiotics, and Kosene began to waste away before our eyes. She was also about 5-6 months pregnant, and in her weakened state, she lost the baby. The young woman, who was once one the heaviest-looking Baka woman I had known, became nothing but skin and bones and soon required a walking stick just to get around. It became apparent to us, even without any laboratory tests, that she was in the end-stages of AIDS.
My teammates were convicted to present the plan of salvation to Kosene, with the hope that she would accept the Gospel of hope and the gift of eternal life. Even in her very weak state, she was able to understand what was being said, all except for one thing. She became very uncomfortable when the idea was presented that all people have sin in their lives. She strained to look around the room and became obviously agitated. Her response to the idea that she has sin was a very adamant “NO.” It absolutely broke our hearts to see her come to such an obvious roadblock. The question in my mind was how she could possibly believe that she had lived a sinless life. The Bible says that “ALL have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God,” and that “no one is righteous, not even one.” I went home discouraged and confused.
After sharing what had happened with another teammate, she suggested reading about the subject of the concept of sin in an animistic society in a book called “Quest for Power.” That reading gave me some insight, but no answers. In an animistic society, one cannot sin against God. One can only violate certain traditional laws or taboos. To us, these violations would look like sinful behavior, but to the animist, one is only guilty of bad behavior if they are caught. If they are not caught, keeping such behavior secret is of upmost importance. If one is not caught, then one should never admit having done something wrong, because then one can never be guilty of wrongdoing. That explains a few of Kosene’s actions to me. It explains why, when we began to suspect that she had AIDS, she would not give us any information about her unborn child’s father, to whom she was not married. To do so would have certainly caused her to be guilty of wrongdoing as sex outside of marriage is not acceptable behavior in Baka society. It also explains why she made an effort to see who was present in the room when the idea of sin was presented to her. The admission of wrongdoing in the presence of others would certainly been disastrous in her eyes.
So, how, in the light of all this, can we possibly communicate the Gospel to the Baka? Oh Lord, please give us wisdom, insight and abounding love for these dear people.

After a long break from Blogger, it is time to catch up. Though I have posted since then, I will start in December. This is a fast and furious summary what I have been up to:
December 12, 2008:
• graduated from French language school and packed up for a move across the ocean
• spent a few much needed days of rest with a couple of dear friends and then departed for a wonderful 2 week trip to Israel with my parents
December 17, 2008:
• arrived in Israel
• celebrated our Lord's birth with my wonderful parents!
• enjoyed all the sights
December 30, 2008:
• arrived in Cameroon!
January, 2009:
• some time in the capital city with the Colemans
• a visit to my home in the bush
• an annual missionary conference
• a trip to the beach for a few days
• more time in the capital city
• and finally, home!
February, 2009:
• after much effort on my part, my cargo finally arrived!!!
• a survey trip to the southernmost border of Cameroon.
March and April, 2009:
• lots of travel all over Cameroon with a wonderful group of visitors from North America
• a few weeks up in beautiful Banyo as part of my orientation
• a few days of field conference
• and HOME!
End of April, 2009:
• more orientation to missionary life in Cameroon
• Baka language learning
• medical work, saving the lives of some and watching others leave this life
May 1, 2009
• catching my breath
Who says missionary life is boring? I am looking forward to spending the next few months at home, learning language, orienting to the medical work and learning what life is going to be like for me for the next several years.

A Day in the Life…

Though this might not be a typical day in my life, I thought it would be interesting enough to share.
My day began at 2am. I awoke to the voice of my teammate and close neighbor Barry, who came to my bedroom window to warn me of an ant invasion that was already beginning to take over my house and come through the bedroom windows. There are many kinds of ants here, but one specific type, the driver ants, can be a true menace. When these insects are on the move, you don’t want to be in the way! They travel in wide trails that can sometimes be several feet wide and voraciously eat any meat that might get in their way, including living animals. The night before last, our friend Augustine lost a chicken to the ants that had come through. He, his wife, and some other close neighbors spent the whole night by the fire to avoid being eaten alive. I was a little more fortunate, as I had ample notice and was able to vacate my house before too many made it inside. I high-tailed it to the refuge of Reda’s house, where I spent the rest of the night on the couch. Barry and his wife Desma spent the night with the kids in their room, as the rest of the house was crawling with the vicious little critters. We were all a bit edgy and on-alert through the night, and every sound and movement was suspect as we kept an ear out for more invasions.
At 7am, I wearily walked back to my house and had a breakfast of oatmeal and a boiled egg. I was very grateful for my cup and half of coffee. After spending some time reading my Bible and in prayer, I headed off to Barry and Desma’s house. I was a little late for our meeting, but they didn’t mind, as they had let the kids sleep in after being awoken during the night. We sang and prayed together, and then we spent a couple hours discussing various aspects of language and culture as a part of my ongoing orientation.
Toward the end of the morning, Reda came to tell me that we had some patients under the mbanjo (a little palm leaf shelter). We saw an older man who has pneumonia and COPD, a close neighbor who has been having lots of trouble with foot sores, a young boy with a badly infected finger, his brother with a tropical skin disease called Yaws, and a young man with a dental abscess. After a bandage change, distribution of appropriate antibiotics to each one, and some patient teaching, we were done, and I headed home to research the best technique for draining a dental abscess. Then I returned to Reda’s for a delicious lunch of grilled fish and fries.
Feeling a bit drowsy, I decided it was time for some R&R. I borrowed a book from the bookshelf and settled down to read for a while. Later in the afternoon, I made a visit to Bilinga Pauline, who lives just a kilometer down the road from us. My goal was to do a little bit of language learning, and Bilinga, her sister and a whole gang of kids were glad to oblige. We talked about the ant invasion, the children, and the animals. Upon returning home, I stopped to visit with teammates and then fixed supper. Tonight we will have a team prayer meeting and then turn the satellite internet on for an hour of internet access. Hopefully we will have an uneventful and restful night

A Dusty Jog

Today I went jogging on a dusty road carved through the rainforest. For some that would be a once in a lifetime experience, and a dream come true. For me, it is a dream come true, but it is also “just life.” While we were jogging, I commented to my teammate that it sure was nice out today, and she responded by pointing out how cool it is to be able to jog through the rainforest like we do. I agree! As we ran today, I enjoyed the tranquility of birds flitting about, the majesty of some scattered remaining canopy trees and the company of a friend.
The road that leads to our house is much different than I remember it. It has not been maintained in some time, so there are large ruts, potholes and boulders scattered here and there, and the surrounding forest is fast encroaching in on it. If it were not being used at all, I bet the road would completely surrender to the rainforest in a matter of just a couple months.
Today was an overcast day. It was still warm, like it usually is here, but we did not have the dry season sun that is so common this time of year. In fact, even though it is dry season, we have had several hard rains. I think it is quite nice, as the rain keeps the dust level down, but I hope the unusual weather is not affecting the local agriculture.

What I Learned in School Today

In August of 2001 I went back to school for the express purpose of preparing for the mission field. With nursing school, support raising, mission training, French language learning, and various other trainings and activities, it has taken until now to finally be prepared enough to arrive in Cameroon. So now the learning is finished and I can start this ministry that I have been preparing for so long, right? Well, no, and yes…
Today I started reading a little booklet entitled “Language Learning IS Communication- IS Ministry!” by E. Thomas Brewster and Elizabeth S. Brewster. It talks about how important it is to learn the language and the culture of a target people group. It emphasizes the importance of taking the humble posture of a learner. As a cross-cultural missionary, I cannot pretend to know better how to speak or act in my new culture than the people that I have come to minister to. I have lots of knowledge to share, and a big part of my job here is sharing information, but I am not the ultimate authority on everything. If a foreign missionary were to come to California, he or she would have to earn the respect of those in my home town before having an effective ministry. That respect is not earned by proudly showing how much knowledge one has, but by placing value and importance in the language and the culture of local people.
So my job, as a foreign missionary is to be a learner, for now and forever. No matter how proficient I become in Baka, no matter how many years I am here, no matter how well I do my job, I will always be an outsider and I must always take the posture of a learner. My hope is that by taking that humble posture, I will show God’s love to those around me.

Surrender

In September, as I started another school year with 30 other French language students and 45 Bible school students, I attended a chapel as I did each week. Mark brought us a challenge; to be completely surrendered to Jesus Christ. He showed us a yellow piece of paper taped to the inside back cover of His Bible which said, “All that I am… all that I have… all that I hope to become… I consecrate now and forever to the Lord Jesus Christ for His glory and for His service, completely and unconditionally.” It was signed and dated and served as a reminder of the commitment that he made to Christ many years ago. I had made the same commitment to Christ long ago, but God was prompting me to renew my vow once more. So, I picked up a small piece of yellow paper from the front of the classroom and sought out two witnesses to sign it with me. It was then tucked away in my Bible. Frequently I pull that little piece of paper out and read it over, many times with tears in my eyes as I think about the fact that the sacrifice of my life is so small in comparison with the reward of being a child of God. The day I left Quebec, I found that pledge tucked snugly next to Psalm 34. With tears streaming down my face I turned to the two young ladies who had signed the little yellow paper with me, and I said with trembling voice, “today I live this.” Even now, as I write this, my heart is filled with so many emotions. I am heartbroken to have left so many places and so many dear people. I am overjoyed to have finally arrived in Cameroon after years of preparation. I am intimidated by the task of learning Baka language and culture. I am comforted to be part of an amazing team of missionaries. And though I can be so unfaithful, I am amazed at God’s faithfulness and love.

Merry Christmas

This Christmas, I have the extra special blessing of celebrating our Savior’s birth in Israel. Dad and Mom gave me the Christmas gift of a “lay-over” in Israel. It is so fun to tour this country with my parents. As we travel from site to site, remembering the historical and Biblical importance of each place, I am not quite able to grasp the significance of such a wonderful trip. It hasn’t really sunk in that I am in Israel. Perhaps it is because I have traveled quite a bit already. Perhaps I am not one to make pilgrimages. Or perhaps it is because I have the presence of our Lord with me wherever I go, whether in the Promised Land or outside of it. Wow, what a blessing that we have God’s very presence with us.

Merry Christmas!

Jennifer

“For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given: and the government shall be upon his shoulder: and his name shall be called Wonderful, Counselor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of Peace.” Isaiah 9:6