African Impact

Where to begin . . .

First, let me thank those of you who interceded for Mr. Drew (our 16 year old son) as he battled fever and stomach issues for two and 1/2 days of the trip – one out of six really isn’t too bad . . . unless you’re the one. Turns out the malaria meds don’t much agree with his system. The new prayer request is that he won’t contract malaria since he was unable to continue his dosage. Symptoms could surface any time over the next year, I’m told. We’re trusting that the Lord was and continues to be his shield!

As for sharing the observations, lessons and experiences of Kenya, that’s going to take some time. One, because there’s way too much to put in a single post. Two, because I’m still processing and processing and processing.

The poverty hit me the hardest. I was completely overwhelmed and unprepared for the depths of suffering in Kenya’s slums, and I am an inner-city missions major. I’ve seen and served in some destitute situations in city projects around our Nation. None of them begin to compete with the horrors of Kibera and Mathare. Looking at these pictures, I realize how very one dimentional they are. These images fail to expose the brokenness, darkness and utter desolation of life in Nairobi’s slums.

Kibera Slums, Nairobi Kenya

Between 800,000 and 1 million people – real people – dads, moms, teenagers, boys and girls call Kibera home. Their normal is our nightmare. And up until now, I had no idea such a thing even existed.

There were two kinds of persons we did not encounter in the slums: the elderly and the obese. Life expectancy in Kenya is 55. One pastor informed us that in the slums it drops to 45.

Houses are constructed with sticks, mud and tin. They are linked together by shared “walls.” Snaking it’s way throughout the entire city of slums, is a river of rain water and sewage. These rivulets also serve as the primary source for washing and drinking. Human and animal waste (pigs, goats, chickens, cats and dogs roam free), along with mounds of trash, presented an ever-present obstacle course as we followed a pastor into the heart of Mathare to visit a young mother and her three children living in a “room” not quite as large as the bathroom my three daughters share in our house here in Kentucky.

It’s been said that what you don’t know can’t hurt you. Well, now I know. It hurts because I’ve never prayed for Kenya. It hurts because I’m wealthy beyond measure and my Christain brothers and sisters in Nairobi and Kisumu lack basic necessities. It hurts because these precious people matter to God. Christ spilled His blood for them and many still don’t know. It also hurts because Kenya is only one example of desperate needs that exist world-wide.

 And so I’m wrestling with my emotions, asking the Father, “What’s my responsibility to the world’s poor. . . now that I truly know?”

For starters, I’ll be praying for some folks by name. I’ll keep their photos close at hand and call their circumstances to memory often. I’ll be supporting and spreading the word about Life in Abundance as they continue to carry out a great work in areas of great need around the globe. And, I’ll be waiting for any other specific instruction from the One who bore their griefs and carried their sorrows; by whose stripes they can be healed.

More on Africa in future posts . . .