Destination: Nkara, part 4

This is the fourth part of a series.  For the whole story, see PART 1, PART 2, and PART 3.  

Originally our plan for Monday was to spend the morning at "Ecole des Femmes," the school for women, and in the evening we would go with the Smiths to a village to do door to door evangelism. We had to change our plans because of Emily's school obligations, so our return flight was rescheduled for Monday. I was terribly disappointed at first, because I had been longing to learn more about the literacy center and the work that Nancy Smith is doing with the women since I first learned of it a year ago and I thought that we would not be able to go to the "school," but Nancy knew I wanted to go and she arranged for it to happen!  We would have to leave early and wouldn't get to visit for an entire school day, but we would get to go and meet the women and learn more about the ministry. I wish we could have gone on the evangelism trip, but I am very grateful that we still got to visit the school.  

After greeting the chief of the village we joined the ladies, who were already waiting for us. They began by singing a song of welcome to us. They invited Nancy and me to share a message with them. (More about that in my next post on the MAF blog!)

The school is about much more than teaching women how to read. It is not completely free. They pay a small amount by bringing manioc, which is then used to feed the students in the Bible school. In this way they are investing in their own lives as well as in the lives of others. They study the Bible and if they don't have one, they can buy one from the school with manioc. The instructor asked them review questions over what they've been studying so they could show me what they've learned. Even though most of them don't own their own Bibles and can't yet read and write proficiently, their knowledge of the Bible and their desire to learn more would put to shame many a Western Christian who has an education along with numerous Bibles and resources.

Alongside of Bible study they also learn about having a Christian home and marriage. This has had a profound effect on the families in the area. Women have told the Smiths that their marriage is happier and that their children no longer run and hide when their father comes home.  

They study basic math and how to count money so they are less likely to be cheated at the market.

They learn to cook new foods and proudly told me that they can make donut holes! 

They learn to sew, knit, and crochet. (The sewing machines are hand cranked, not electric.) This way they can make clothing for their families. They can knit baby layettes and sew things to sell to help support their families. The school is in the village, but the sewing machines are in a building nearly 8 miles away and can't be moved because the road is so bad it would tear up the machines. On sewing days, the women walk to where the machines are. Once they graduate from the school, they are still allowed to use the machines on Fridays so they can continue improving their skills and helping their families. 

From start to finish, schooling lasts for three years! 

This program reaches women for Christ, but it also gives them increased dignity and self-esteem by teaching them new skills they can be proud of and use to support themselves. It completely changes their lives in many ways. It brings God's Word and influence into the homes. The men in the villages are asking for a school for men because now they want to learn to read and write and how to be spiritual leaders in their homes! When Jim Smith's father came to this country, it was still under Belgian rule. The Belgians were ravaging the women of this village and others in the area without any consequences. When the village chief tried to defend the women he was put into prison. The people were sacrificing their babies and practicing cannibalism to "the spirits" in a vain attempt to atone for their sins. Desperate men from the village walked over 70 miles to the village where Laban Smith was ministering. They had heard that he was teaching people about a God who can forgive sins without the sacrifice of children, and they begged him to come and tell their village about his God.  What a radical difference it has made!

 All too soon, it was time to leave. David Francis flew us home in the Caravan, "Mike Oscar." We stopped in Vanga on the way and picked up Dr. Friedhelm, a missionary who works in the Vanga hospital.  

MAF encourages us to visit the interior and calls these excursions "vision trips." Being at home nearly 24/7, or in the hangar all day every day with your nose in an airplane, we usually don't see or hear how God is using MAF to make a difference here in DRC. We don't know what life is like for those who live outside of the city if we've never been outside of the city ourselves. There are missionaries, hospitals, schools and mission stations that rely on MAF and could not continue to exist here without the airplanes.  Knowing that, and SEEING it are two entirely different things, I've learned. Trips like this help us keep or renew our vision and passion for God's work here. I hope my posts have shown you the beautiful people, the dedication of God's laborers, and the amazing things God has done/is doing here. More than that, I hope you have a vision and that God will enable you to passionately pursue it.

Destination Nkara: part 3

This is part 3 of a series.  For the rest of the story, see Part 1 and Part 2.

Sunday morning we went to church in the village.  People were already singing when we arrived.  We were escorted to the front and seated facing the congregation.  That is the place of honor, and they were very happy to have Jim and Nancy in their presence again after several months in the U.S.

Nancy and Jim explained a lot to us about the culture and the way the people worship.  There are music groups, sort of like small choirs.  The day we went, there was a men’s group, a women’s group, and a young girls’ group. Each group is limited to two songs, but the processional song and the recessional song do not count, so really you can get away with singing four songs.  On the way to the front of the church (and back again), a music group will proceed slowly, regardless of how fast the beat of the song is, and they sing all the way to the front.  They told the Smiths that if a king or a very important chief came to visit, they would not dream of just walking up to him.  They would approach him with singing, dancing, and rejoicing and do their best to make him feel truly welcome in their midst.  I tried to let that really sink in and thought a lot about the way we worship in our churches.  Not that our worship style is wrong, but maybe we don’t always do our best to make God feel truly welcome in our midst.  He rejoices over us with singing, but how often do we approach Him in the same way?  

Of course the music style was also different.  The music groups stood in a circle, so some of them had their backs to the congregation.  At first we thought this was odd, but then we thought about Who are they really singing to?  Not to the congregation! All of the songs were sung from memory, which makes sense in a place where few can read or afford a song book.  There were men playing the drum (very cool!).  Some beat sticks together.  Some beat car parts together.  Some had shakers made out of carved wooden handles nailed to tin cans with seeds inside. Here is a wee sample.  It's less than a minute and I had to save it as "low-bandwidth quality" in order to upload it, but I wanted you to get to hear a little bit.  This is the group with the younger girls.

Another way the service was different for us was the way the offering was taken.  Baskets were placed at the altar and music played while people came forward to give their offering.  The men and boys sit on one side of the church and the women and girls sit on the other so there was a basket for each side.  People who did not have money brought manioc or corn.  What would happen if someone in our church placed something they had grown or made in the offering plate in lieu of money?  At this church, people sang. Giving to God was a blessing and a privilege!

The pastor introduced Jim and Nancy to the church as “our spiritual father and mother.” He invited them to share anything they wanted to with the church so each spoke for a couple of minutes.  Then our family was introduced and David and I were invited to share our testimonies.  Since we don’t speak their local language, and many in the congregation did not know French, we used an interpreter.

After church, Jim and Daniel played Frisbee with the children.  Everyone gathered around and if someone dropped it or made a bad throw, the crowd gave a collective “OH!”

Sunday afternoon we drove to the radio station to take a look around.  This is a Christian radio station out in the middle of nowhere, and people have really responded to it.  Scripture is read morning and evening, and whole groups in the villages gather round a radio to listen for their devotions.  This is a huge blessing since so many cannot read and do not own Bibles. A critical problem is that the station went off the air a few weeks ago and no one can figure out why.  It will cost a very large sum to get technicians out to look at it.  The Smith’s have had many people tell them that they miss the radio, that it is like someone died.  It’s their lifeline to hearing the gospel, getting the news, and not being isolated from the rest of the world.  We stopped and had a time of prayer for the station before returning to the house.

To be continued...   Part 4

Destination: Nkara, part 2

fence between the Smith home and the road

This is part two in a series.  For part one, see Destination: Nkara, part 1.

When we arrived on Friday and saw the lake, Daniel asked if he could go fishing.  None of us had a pole, but Avi, one of the Smith's employees, said he would see what he could do.  On Saturday, Avi presented Daniel with a fishing pole that his son had made for him.  It was literally a stick with about six feet of line tied to it and a tiny little hook.  For bait, there were several options.  At first we went out to the taller grass and caught grasshoppers for Daniel to use.  Later, Avi gave Daniel some sort of wormy critters he dug out of a dead tree.  These were gross.

Daniel fished most of the day, and finally caught a little fish just before supper.  Avi was almost as excited as Daniel was and promised to bring a larger hook on Sunday so that Daniel could catch bigger fish.

Avi has quite a story.  During the upheaval and violence after Indepence in the 1960's, Avi, like many others, hid in the forest.  He estimates he entered the forest when he was about 7 years old and spent five years in hiding.  When it was safe to come out, the UN dropped clothing from airplanes so that all the people hiding in the forests could come out.  Avi had not had a hair cut, or even a mirror and comb, in five years and had grown quite a bit, so when he came out of the forest his own mother did not recognize him and said he was not her son.

Nancy Smith, Emily, and I decided to spend our Saturday morning in the villages nearby because it was "market day." This was my first visit to a village and I noticed many differences between the villages and the city of Kinshasa.  The first one I noticed was the lack of garbage.  In Kinshasa, it is literally everywhere, strewn about the streets and sidewalks.

As you can see in this photo, the housing is also different.  Homes are constructed out of sticks, reinforced with mud, and have grass roofs.  The white stuff on the roof of this house is manioc that is being dried before it can be ground into flour.

Manioc is a staple food here.  Here it is being weighed before it goes to market.

Nancy Smith with a village chief.  The "balls" on his hat indicate that he is a chief of more than one village or group.

This is how you shop for clothing in the interior!  Certain thrift store chains in the U.S. send their surplus to African countries.  They are supposed to be free, but obviously aren't.  I could probably write a whole other article about the good and bad impacts that donated clothing has had on the economy and social structure here.

Jim found an inner tube for the kids.  We all swam in the lake during the afternoon.  These are all the photos I was able to take before a group of about a dozen naked boys from the village came to swim on the other side and I had to put my camera away, or rather chose to.  They were friendly, but completely at ease with walking about in the buff, so we were grateful that they stayed on the other side of the water.

At one point on Saturday, a fitting broke in the plumbing, causing the upstairs bathroom to flood and water went into one of the bedrooms and down the stairs.  The fitting was a new one, and had been done incorrectly.  David discovered several other newly installed fittings and sure enough, by the time we left on Monday, he and Jim had repaired nearly all of them, one at a time, as they took turns rupturing.

We ended our daylight hours with a walk up to the runway. This is actually a pretty good stretch of the road. The Smiths told me that to get to Vanga, which is roughly 75 kilometers, it is a 9 hour drive - longer if the river ferry isn't working. The road is so bad that no one can drive more than 10 miles per hour, even slower in some spots. We flew right over Vanga on our way to Nkara and it was less than 20 minutes from one to the other. That's why people like the Smiths need the services MAF provides.

To be continued...   Part 3

Destination: Nkara, part 1

We set off on Friday to visit our dear friends Jim and Nancy Smith. The Smiths have served in the Nkara area of the Bandundu province for many years and still spend a good part of each year here in the Congo.  When they are here, they live in the home that Jim's father built, and oversee a Bible school and a literacy center for women.  They also work in evangelism and operate a Christian radio station.

Friday was a day of firsts for us. For the first time since arriving here in October 2010, our family was leaving Kinshasa together.  A sad first for me was realizing that this was our first big family event without Josh there to enjoy it with us.  Emily, Daniel, and I were taking our first ride in an MAF plane. We got to experience what it is like for an MAF passenger to go through the airport - including getting weighed.  You can't lie about your weight because the scale is right there in the office!  An overweight plane is a huge safety risk. So we all had our first public weigh-in. (insert smiley emoticon here)

Before we even got on the plane, I was blessed to get to meet Miriam Noyes.  Miriam and her husband Ed are missionaries who live and work a few miles outside of Vanga.  Miriam was taking the MAF plane home, so while we waited we got to talk and get to know each other a little bit.

Here are a few photos from day one of our trip.

The Cessna 206 we flew out in, "Mike Romeo." After hearing David talk about repairs and inspections he has done on each of the planes, it was pretty cool to get to ride in one, even for a person who is not fond of flying in small planes.

I wasn't the only one who was excited to be on our way to Nkara!

The trees grow where the water collects, in the low places.  Being a quilter, this view made me think of stippling, as if the land were a giant quilt.

This house was built by Jim's dad. Jim met us at the runway and drove us to the house, where a big breakfast was waiting for us.  Nkara is a MYOE place (make your own electricity).  The Smith's have a generator for their well, another for the house, and a battery powered water pump so that they can have water inside the house even when the generator is not on.  They run the generator for a few hours each evening to charge batteries and have lights.  The refrigerator and stove run on propane, and they have a ringer washer.  Nancy Smith told us that she thinks it is easier in some ways to live in the interior because the electricity in Kinshasa is so random and at her house it is very predictable since there is none except for the generator.

After breakfast we looked around a bit and spent some time just relaxing and visiting with the Smiths.  In the evenings while the generator was on, we watched a video.  It is not as hot in Nkara as it is in Kinshasa so we slept pretty comfortably even without power, but we had battery powered fans if we needed them.

To be continued....

part 2

part 3

part 4

Pass the rejection.

I'm so excited!  We've been with MAF since July of 2008, and this weekend I will have my first ride in an MAF airplane!  It gets even better.  We are going on our first visit to the interior, a place called Nkara to visit with our good friends Jim and Nancy Smith.  They are missionaries and we'll get a chance to see their ministry in action.  I can't wait to come back and tell you all about it.  There's no internet there, so you won't hear from me for a little bit.  In the mean time, I wrote this a long time ago and then decided not to use it, but since I'll be gone I pulled it out of hiding. Personally, I think my cartoon drawing is better than what I wrote but I couldn't use the one without the other.


A good friend once told me I need to learn to say no.  I said, “I have to say yes.”  She said, “No, you don’t.” (See?  She knows how to say no.)

I do struggle with saying no.  On the occasions that I force myself to say no, I feel guilty and think I have to justify it.

So why do I have so much angst over that little word?
- I care and I want to help.
- I don’t want to be thought of as rude or disagreeable.
- I don’t want others to feel hurt or rejected.
- I don’t like confrontations and some people don’t like to take no for an answer.
- I want people to approve of me and not be disappointed.

Moreover (I’ve always wanted to use that word!), why should I say no?
- When I should say no and I do not, I become angry and resentful toward the person I said yes to.  It’s     not their fault, but that’s what happens.
- To keep me from being anxious about all the things I have to do that I should have said no to.
- If I say no to what I should, then I can say yes to what I should.
- My first ministry is my family and I should say no if saying yes would hinder that.
- I only have so much physical, emotional, and mental energy.

I need to get it in my thick head that saying no to someone is not handing them a big plate of rejection and saying “dig in!”  It means I am making a decision based on how much time and energy I have and what is best for my family.  I’m the only person who can rightfully make that decision because I am the one managing the home and juggling the priorities.  People have wrongly supposed in the past that because I am a stay at home mom, I have oodles of time on my hands.  Honestly, no, I don’t.  We chose to give up a lot financially when we decided I would stay home.  Even before we came to Africa I spent a lot of time doing things from scratch or by hand to save us money.  We spend a large chunk of our days home schooling.  I have other priorities that are important to me and that I feel God has called me to do.

What’s the worst that can happen if I say no?  I might lose a relationship that is based on manipulation or on the other person being used to getting their own way.  Alternatively - I might get an opportunity to steer that relationship in a healthier direction for both of us.  What is the best that can happen?  Freedom from guilt and resentment, and freedom to focus on what I should.

What can You do?

What can You do with...


broken dreams,
repeated failures,
endless frustration,
spent emotions,
confusion,
grief,
hurt?


Please, show me.


What can You do with...


a trusting heart,
willing feet,
open hands,
a surrendered will,
a seeking spirit,
tears of contrition,
a mustard seed?


Please, show me!

Happy Feet Helping Congo Women

I almost always update the blog on Saturday mornings, but this Saturday morning I will be participating once again in a 5K Run/Walk to help women of Congo.  I have to because this morning I made St. Louis Gooey Butter Cake and each piece is about six million calories.  Just kidding.  I was going to do the run anyway.

My main motive for participating is because this is a fundraiser for the women in this country.  We see the news headlines proclaiming that Congo is the rape capital of the world, women have no rights, etc.  This is a chance to be involved in something positive that will help women.  This year the fundraiser is for the FFC, Fonds pour les Femmes Congolaise (Foundation for Congolese Women).  The FFC is a support organization for the promotion and defense of the rights of women and girls, especially the right to live without violence.

my feet last August

Several months ago I wasn’t sure I would ever be able to put on my tennis shoes and walk five kilometers again.  My feet hurt just crossing the room.  Even after my foot surgery, it was a few more months before I could wear tennis shoes.  Now I am back to doing my power walk dvd’s and playing softball on weekends and feeling very, very grateful for my feet.  Lots of people prayed for me and helped make it possible for us to get my feet taken care of .  It gives me great pleasure to be able to use my feet to help someone else now.

Why am I making gooey butter cake?  Partly because my daughter is bringing home a dinner guest from school today.  Partly because my freezer is broken and I had cream cheese thawed out.  Cream cheese costs way too much here to let it be wasted.  And partly because I am proud of my St. Louis upbringing and feeling a wee bit homesick.  Here’s a salute to all my St. Louis friends!

Hopefully the run/walk will raise a lot of money and awareness.  Please say a prayer for the women of Congo.  

Who's Stolen My Heart?

Friday we went to the orphanage in Kimbondo with my friend Myndii.  That's not us in the vehicle above, but that IS what the kids do when they see us coming.  We always get a great reception.  A few people have said to me that they think I am doing a good thing for the kids by going to the orphanage and playing with them.  The reality is that it is good for me on many levels and I am probably more blessed than the kids are by my visits.  Spending a day with them really puts any problems I am facing into a different perspective.    And the welcome I get from them each time I arrive is so fun!  It's a little like the old Cheers tv show where everyone hollered Norm's name each time he arrived.  They know I am there just to be with them and it's a big deal to them.  

Myndii knows some songs in Lingala and started singing to a few little ones.  Before long, a group of children had pulled chairs over and were sitting around her and singing along.  Every time she stopped they asked for more.  One boy caught my attention because he was singing with a big smile on his face and obviously having fun.  I asked him what his name was and he said "Dieu Merci (Thank you, God)."  Dieu Merci has a sweet spirit and tons of potential.  Pray for him!

Pray for this baby too.  I am not sure about gender but I call her a girl because I don't like to say "it." She's new at the orphanage.  The kids who have been here a while never look like this.  She tried to cry when she saw us and no sound even came out of her mouth, she is so weak.  I rubbed her chest and tummy and talked to her but was afraid to pick her up without asking the doctor and he wasn't around.  It is really heartbreaking to see kids in this condition.

Nori, one of the staff members, asked me to take a photo of her with some of the kids.  The staff and older kids put the little ones up on this wall all the time.  We always were amazed that none of them ever seemed to fall.  Right after I took this, the little guy third from the right face planted on the concrete below.  I picked him up and was really surprised not to find any chipped teeth or any blood.  He cried for a while and then fell asleep in my lap.



Remember the 52 Challenge?  The bad news is that I am not keeping up with the goal to memorize a verse each week.  The good news is that I am still plugging along.  I try not to beat myself up with guilt and instead remind myself that the spirit of the challenge is to motivate people to hide God's Word in their hearts.  It's all about knowing God, not about the tally marks.

My newest verse leapt out of the pages at me the other day and really bit me:

"How can you believe if you accept praise from one another, yet make no effort to obtain the praise that comes from the only God?" - John 5:44

Everyone likes to hear an occasional "well done!"  I'm no exception.  If praise from others had no effect on us, Satan would lose one of his most valuable tools for luring us down the wrong path.  I've been thinking about my motives a lot since God showed me this verse.  How much of what I say and do is carefully worded or planned to prompt others to praise and admire me, and even worse, to do so instead of praising the Father?  Am I trusting God to know when I need encouragement and provide it?  There is a song I like a lot by Leeland, in which he sings to God: "You've stolen my heart! Yes, You have!"  Am I so in love with God that his praise means more to me than the praises of people ever could?  

Oh, Passion, My Passion

I wasn't sure what to write about this week, but in the span of a few days the word "passion" kept cropping up so I'll run with that and see what happens.  I was ordering produce from Papa Joseph on Monday and asked him what fruit is in season right now.  He said "maracuja," which means passion fruit.

Passion fruit flowers are stunning! I read that they received their name from missionaries, who were reminded by the flower of the passion of Christ.  The three stigmas represent three nails.  The "threads" of the flower represent the crown of thorns.  The purple represents the purple robe used to mock Jesus. The five petals and five sepals represent the ten disciples who remained faithful to Jesus throughout the Passion.

I used to confuse passion and exuberance.  I thought if I was passionate about Jesus, I had to show it by worshiping, speaking, and acting exuberantly.  But that just wasn't in line with my personality so I thought I had no passion and I felt guilty.  Then I met my introvert husband, who is far less exuberant than I am, but has a deep passion for Christ. I came to understand that passion does indeed compel us to action, but it doesn't require us to be something other than ourselves.  I was house cleaning yesterday and had my Selah cd playing.  Passion came to my mind once again as this song played:

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, vast, unmeasured, boundless, free!
Rolling as a mighty ocean in its fullness over me!
Underneath me, all around me, is the current of Thy love
Leading onward, leading homeward to Thy glorious rest above!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, spread His praise from shore to shore!
How He loveth, ever loveth, changeth never, nevermore!
How He watches o’er His loved ones, died to call them all His own;
How for them He intercedeth, watcheth o’er them from the throne!

O the deep, deep love of Jesus, love of every love the best!
’Tis an ocean full of blessing, ’tis a haven giving rest!
O the deep, deep love of Jesus, ’tis a heaven of heavens to me;
And it lifts me up to glory, for it lifts me up to Thee!  - S. Trevor Francis

Now that's passion!  I love that hymn, and had to stop what I was doing and just absorb it.  

I had never tried passion fruit so I ordered some from Papa Joseph.  We didn't even know how to eat it.  Emily told us that she sees people at school just scoop out the pulp, seeds and all, and eat it with a spoon.  So, at supper one night we tried it.  Oh my, it was tart! Everyone had a good laugh at the faces we made.  I decided to try baking something with them. I figured if a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down then a cup of sugar ought to help us eat our passion fruit.  I combined a few recipes I found on the internet and ended up with passion fruit muffins.

Passion fruit muffins:

1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup sugar
2 eggs
pulp from three passion fruits
1 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 1/2 cups flour
1/4 cup milk

Glaze: 

1 cup powdered sugar
1 Tbs melted butter
pulp from one or two passion fruits

I just mixed all the dry ingredients first and then stirred in the wet ingredients.  Bake at 350 for 15 minutes or until done.  Add glaze when muffins have cooled.  Half of us liked them, including one of the cats.  She stole my breakfast muffin yesterday.

Nsango Na Bomoi, part 3

This post is the final part of a three part story.  For the whole story, see Nsango Na Bomoi, part 1 and Nsango Na Bomoi, part 2. 

After church, we decided to visit one of the members, Mosengo.  Mosengo and his wife had a baby a few weeks ago -- a perfect excuse for a visit in any culture.  He lives very close to the church, which was nice, because we couldn't have driven to his home.  

First we had to cross the creek behind the church.  This is accomplished by walking across on a two by four that is supported in the center by a large rock.  This is a classic example of the service driven economy here.  People needed to cross the creek, so a man bought a board and made a "bridge." Now people pay him to let them cross the creek on his bridge.  He lets people cross for free to go to church, though.

photo courtesy of Christine Grings

I mentioned in part 1 of this story that this neighborhood has not had city water in over a month. Because of that, people take water from this creek, which is not healthy.  If you click on this photo and enlarge it you can see the trash that is literally everywhere.  Also the creek is downhill from sewage and a cemetery.  Some well-meaning visitors from America came once and saw all the trash all over and decided that people just needed trash cans.  So they provided some, but there was no service in the city to remove garbage. When the cans filled up, people just dumped them on the ground nearby and started filling them again.  

photo courtesy of Christine Grings

After we crossed the creek, we had to walk down this road.  This is one of the nicer, wider sections.  There were rocks, puddles, chickens and pigs to watch out for.  Usually when you see one of these umbrellas, the person attending it is selling some kind of food or supplies.

photo courtesy of Christine Grings

This yard is about the size of my living room and is shared by Mosengo's family and two others.  This is where all the kids play, where the families work, cook and eat, and where they hang laundry.  I wish I had taken a photo of the front of the "house" for you but my camera batteries were dying.

Each building has three front doors.  Each door represents one apartment and consists of two rooms, each about the size of a large bathroom in the U.S.  There are few windows, if any, for light or ventilation.  They are wired for electricity but seldom have any.  There is no indoor plumbing.  The families share a community outhouse.  This is pretty typical of the housing for most of Kinshasa's families.  Mosengo was overjoyed that we paid a visit and told us so repeatedly. In Congo one in every ten babies does not live to its fifth birthday and this family has already lost two infants.

photo courtesy of Christine Grings

Now for the creepy part of my post.  To get to Nsango Na Bomoi church, we had to navigate a crazy road that borders a very old, very large, and very overcrowded cemetery.  Years of rainy seasons have taken their toll on the road and the land around it, causing a lot of erosion.  On the way in to the church we were discussing all  this and Christine said she was surprised that no bones had ever washed out with the rains.  On the way out, we spotted a bone!  Christine took this photo from the car window!  Now we wonder how long it will be before bones are found laying in the road after each storm.









Last but not least, I have a little treat for you.  It took several hours but I managed to upload a video of one of the songs from the church service so you can hear a little bit of Lingala and see a little bit of what it was like.  I had to cut the song so it's just a portion but it's about putting on the full armor of God.  Here are the lyrics and the translation too so you can even learn the song for yourself!

Pesa satana millimetre, (Give Satan a millimeter,)

akojua kilometre (he will get a kilometer.) 2x

Keba! (Watch out!)

Senjela! (Be vigilant!)

Bondela! (Pray!)

Lata (Put on...)

bilato na bitumba ya satana. (the armor of war against Satan.)

Yango nde Ephesiens 6. (This is Ephesians 6.)

The end.

Nsango Na Bomoi, part 2

If you are new to this blog you can find Nsango Na Bomoi, part 1 HERE.

We rode to church with the Grings family and arrived early so Dan could set up tarps and sound/video equipment in order to show photos from his recent trip.  He and one of the deacons had gone to a village in the interior where a new church is being planted.  

First everyone assembled together to sing praises.

After the singing, we went to Sunday School.  Daniel went to class with his friends Timothy and Anna.  No matter how often Daniel tries to be inconspicuous here in Congo, it never works.  He is easily spotted in almost any crowd.   

David went to the men's class.  Emily and I went to the women's class with Christine.  Some of the ladies and I recognized each other from my visits to Christine's Bible study group, which was fun.  They had been inviting me to visit their church and I think they were pleased that I finally had done it.

Some of the smaller children went to class with their moms.  They were curious about the mundele visitors and watched us constantly.

The worship service was in Lingala, but otherwise it was very similar to a service in the U.S. except that it took longer.  The Congolese culture is not as time oriented as ours.  A twenty minute sermon is unheard of. 

There was Scripture reading, prayer, and music - lots and lots of music.

Dan preached, then shared about his trip.  I was wishing I knew Lingala because the congregation seemed to thoroughly enjoy his sermon and his story.  I did get part of the "English version" from Christine.  

But wait! There's more!  To be continued...