Nkhotakota Crusade

 

In 1840 an Arabic trader named Jumbe Salim Bin Abdalla, established a post in Nkhotakota for the purpose of trading slaves. During the height of his power, Jumbe transported between 5,000 and 20,000 slaves through Nkhotakota annually. From Nkhotakota, the slaves were transported in caravans of no less than 500 slaves to the small island of Kilwa Kisiwani off the coast of modern-day Tanzania.  Nkhotakota, Malawi has been an area of strong Muslim influence for a very long time.  There is a national monument in Nkhotakota today - the tree under which David Livingston met with Chief Jumbe in an effort to get him to stop trading slaves.

 

According to the national leadership of the Malawi Assemblies of God there have been evangelistic efforts conducted in Nkhotakota, but there have never been more than 15 people won to the Lord at any one time.  Until now!

 

The Nkhotakota crusade was held from Wednesday night through Sunday morning, with a multinational crusade team.  The Malawi Assemblies of God, along with the missionary team in Malawi, Strategic Missionary Resources headed by Mike Powell, and a ministry team from Northplace Assembly of God Church from Sachse, Texas led by Pastor Bryan Jarrett joined forces with the theme "Nkhotakota for Jesus".  The crowds at night ranged from 1,500 to 3,000 people.  Sunday morning over 500 attended the final service.  In the four days of ministry well over 300 people accepted Jesus Christ as Saviour.

 

                             

Just after lunch on the third day of the crusade, nine expectant mothers arrived at the crusade site.  They said that they had heard there was a crusade, and they came for prayer.  It seems that all of them had been admitted to the local hospital awaiting the arrival of the babies.  The pastors of one of the local churches told me that when she spoke to them, she realized that they were not saved.  She then told them that they were lost without Jesus and that they needed to ask him to forgive their sins.  They did!  All nine accepted the Lord that day.

 

 

The team from Northplace held a medical clinic during the day and ministered to people's physical needs.

 

                           

 

A Sunday morning service, including Sunday School, was held with over 500 people in attendance.  The village chief was in attendance for this special service, lending great credibility and favor to the church.  Just like the night services, the altar filled when the invitation was given.  Since the crusade two weeks ago, the local church has seen an increase in attendance of over 50 people.  A construction team from Cornerstone A/G, Nashville, Tennessee will arrive next week to begin construction on two new churches for the Nkhotakota area.  We thank God for the outpouring of His Spirit upon the people of Nkhotakota, Malawi.

 

The tree still stands, but now the Gospel is going forth!

Process of Change

Our youngest child, Caleb, just graduated from LeTourneau University in Longview, Texas.  He has taken a job with an aviation company in California and lives in a suburb of Los Angeles close to the LA Dream Center.  The Dream Center is a church pastored by Tommy and Matthew Barnett that is helping restore lives in inner city Los Angeles.  This church reaches into the depths of darkness and shows the love of Christ in a very real way. 

 

Caleb has been volunteering at the Dream Center when he has time off from his job.  Last week he went with a group of people to skid row in downtown LA.  I would like to share his thoughts with you.

 

Encompassing me is stink and filth. It overtakes my senses – all of them. This smell prompts me to strictly remind myself to touch nothing. Who knows what could end up on my hands? My peripheral vision tells a story more pronounced and audible than the words of the mumbling passers-by. I sit down on the curb by a black man named Norman. In a tattered plastic sack next to him are items of value – scraps of metal, two un-matching wheels, a plastic bottle, and a broken plastic clothes hanger. I introduce myself and give him a bright orange flyer. He takes it and places it under his foot. I assume it will eventually go into the sack. People are constantly walking by. Sometimes many, sometimes only a few. It resembles a human river, and I find it odd that such a scene of desolation and hopelessness does so. The smell is still tickling and offending my nostrils. Cut this place and it will bleed. It will bleed HIV and cocaine and dumpster babies and stories of triumph and disappointment and empty water bottles and brightly colored tracks. I am at the base of tall city buildings and I am at the base of a very large and menacing pit. Perhaps I am internally at the base of an awakening or awareness. Take a dictionary and you will not find the word “hope” in it on these streets. It not-so-magically disappears. There may be tricks, but there is no magic here - only hard, hot pavement littered with trash and humanity’s waste. Is there an answer? Or only rows and rows of questions and decision and results? All have taken a turn for the worst. For each, the prognosis is terminal. I am suffocating and I want to run away, but the setting is gripping me tightly. The graffiti, the missing teeth, the cigarettes and fruit. My heart is creasing, ripping, tearing, but not in the way one might think. Nothing dramatic or life-changing. So much on my mind and so little I can do. I am disconnected. If I take my shirt off and rub my body against the mission walls will I collapse from the weight of the situation? Will I soak it in? As it rises from the concrete and emanates from the dirty bodies will it make its way into my pores? This place, “Skid Row,” is a symbol of brokenness and pain, of fear and anger, of humanity on a bad day. It is sin with no skin on. Here the devil doesn’t dress up.              -- Caleb Brown

 

We all go through a process of change.  Sometimes, it is a defining moment!

YIKES! Culture Shock again...

                                      

Do you need a closer look?

 

                            

Oh yeah, you're correct - MICE!  Those are mice on that stick you are looking at.  Can you believe this?  These guys were sitting at the side of the road hawking their goodies - MICE!  Actually, mice on a stick.

 

It seems that these guys start a fire at the edge of a very grassy area in order to drive out the mice; then they catch them.  At this point they boil them in salt water - hair and all!  According to the chef, the best part of the mouse is the liver.  Oh my goodness, can you believe this?  My gag reflex is kicking in just writing about this.

 

 

 

My friend, Blessings Gamah, offered visual instruction showing just how one might eat a mouse.  YIKES!  He slowly took hold of the head, gave a little twist, then PUT THE HEAD IN HIS MOUTH AND CRUNCHED IT DOWN!  As they say in Texas, "That would gag a maggot!"

 

My wife gamely said, "I would like to try it."  YEP!  She did!  She didn't crunch the head, nor did she scarf the hair, but she did pull the meat (does a mouse really have meat?) and ATE IT!

 

                               

 

I hope she will be happy with her new family.  I am dropping out of the rat race (pun intended)!  Seems kind of appropriate that she is wearing an Aggie shirt for this cultural experience!

Chigwirizano Assembly of God

 

 

Sundays are so much fun - serious, but fun!  Sunday morning we were with Pastor Duncan Machemba, his wife Maness, and the congregation of Chigwirizano Assembly of God.  Chigwirizano means "together" in the Chichewa language.

 

Chigwirizano A/G is in the village of Likuni, not far from Lilongwe.  Driving through the middle of the trading area is a real trip in rural Africa.  People standing on the side of the road were selling clothes, chickens (live), fire wood, fried potatoes, and cooked meat.

 

 

 

In the picture above, you will observe that offering time is blessing time!  The group praying above are people that desire to commit themselves to the work of the Lord.  The people of this church have a great desire to reach the unchurched in this area. 

 

                             

                  I preached about the second coming of Christ this morning.   

 

 

After the service we were invited to the pastor's home for lunch, along with some of the board members of the church.  The ladies prepared a traditional Malawian meal that was absolutely wonderful!  Fredna and I receive special treatment during these times.  Even the fact that we are offered eating utensils when most of the others eat traditionally - with their hands, proves this!

Keying In On Culture

Today Fredna and I experienced something new from a third-world country.  Fredna needed fabric to make some curtains in the house.  Off to the market where we should find the needed material.  While she was shopping, I stood at the door of the shop people-watching.  It was unbelievable how many people there were walking up and down the road.  I was simply fascinated, but then again, I have always enjoyed watching people. 

 

It was a bit disturbing to me when so many people would stop in front of me and just hold out their hand.  Though I didn't speak their language, I certainly understood their gestures.  I asked the shop owner why there seemed to be so many people begging for money.  She told me that today was Friday.  You see, most of the shop owners in this area are Muslim, and every Friday they give money to the beggars.  I was relieved to discover that it was not just me.

 

One shop we visited not only sold fabric, but many other things as well.  In fact, it is the only shop in this city that I have found where you can get a key made.  While Fredna was looking at material, I decided to have an extra key made for our vehicle.  I have had keys made in this shop before, and it didn't seem to take too long, so I thought I had plenty of time.  I was wrong this time.  The gentleman making the key finally came from the back of the store and told the sales clerk that she had given him the wrong blank, so she gave him another one.  We waited, and waited, and waited.  About an hour later the gentleman appears with the key, and we are off. 

 

What took so long?  The man that usually makes the keys on a key cutter died last week.  The man making my key didn't know how to operate the key cutter, so he was doing it the same way they did before there ever was a key cutter - with a file!  When we got back to the car, I tried the "hand-filed" key.  Surprise, surprise - it didn't work.  Back to the shop I went to tell them that it didn't work.  The man that made the key came from the back and explained to me that he was leaving for lunch, so I must go with him.  What he really meant was that he would go with me - to the car so he could work on the key.  Sure enough, he brought his files and began working on the key.  After another ten minutes or so, I told him that I had to leave and that I would return next week to get him to make the key.  Now I have a key that belongs to me. I paid for it, and it doesn't fit anything.  But it is handmade!