Day 28 - Perseverence?

Have you ever taken a family vacation, the kind involving young children and a long drive? We have taken many of these trips. In fact, in 2004 David earned a one month sabbatical from his job and we decided to buy a camper and go west to explore and visit friends (look how cute little Ben and pre-pubescent Kaleb are in this picture)! I have to brag just a little bit on my kids because I'm sure they are the best travelers under age 18 in the whole USA - that is, until the last hour.

No matter what size trip we have taken, no matter how much fun we've had, no matter how perfect the trip has been, we always seem to have a nervous breakdown during the last hour of our drive home. It's a phenomenon that doesn't restrict itself to the kids either; there's a lot of whining going on, which means irritated grown-ups, the pee breaks increase (followed by a plea to hold it until we get home), the driver's back is aching, I enter some sort of catatonic state while trying to hold it all together and to top it all off, everybody's butt hurts. It's quite miserable, really.

That's what our home is like right now, here on day 28 of our Eating for Africa. What started off as a fun experiment full of food challenges and laughter has turned into a whiny, are-we-there-yet, pain in the butt!

Something we've been working as a family is to memorize the book of James. James is a book full of advice for Christian living. We're not gotten very far and in fact, we've spent this whole month in the same place:

"Consider it pure joy my brothers when you face trials of many kinds because you know that the testing of your faith develops perseverance. Perseverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking in anything."

Pure joy during trials? I confess that I'm not there yet. Okay, I confess that I'm far from there. Perseverance at this point in the game feels a lot like gritting my teeth. I've wondered if my discontent is a sign that we have acted outside God's will in our food experiment or if I'm even equipped to go share the gospel in the first place. Discontent turns me into a whiny kid in the back seat rather than the driver behind the wheel. Suppose now would be a good time for a rousing chorus of "Jesus take the wheel." Please, please Lord, take the wheel.


I've tried to avoid self-indulgent blog-rants here in the end because after-all, we chose this path. My memory might be getting fuzzy, but I'm almost certain it was my idea to begin with, so why complain? It's been a good trip. I guess we're just ready to get out of the car.

- Julie

P.S. This last picture is of our van in Uganda. We use a small fleet of these vans to move the team around during our trips.

Day 9 - S*x Talk

Did you enjoy our little video yesterday? That pretty much sums up things on the food front around here.

We are starting to get into a groove. I actually made a bean-burger today served on flat bread...not homemade (thank you Cosco) but it was good and the kids felt like they were getting a treat. Remember, our boundaries during the week are African ingredients not necessarily prepared in an African way. Mid afternoons are the hardest for all of us so I'm going to need to work out a better snack situation. No other food interest to report.

I had a "teenagers and dating" talk with a friend of mine today that brought to mind a story I would like to share with you.

During our time in Africa, not only do we travel hut to hut sharing the gospel, but we also work with local student groups taking teams into the schools to have assemblies. How refreshing to have the gospel message welcomed in school as opposed to being censored like we do here in America! On Saturday of our trips, we participate in Student Conferences. These conferences are held in one school but attended by secondary students from a variety of schools in the area (High Schoolers). The schools perform for one another, officials make speeches and our team shares a message about living the Christian life. Both years I attended conferences, we have ended the day dividing the group into genders to have s*x talks and answer questions. The students are able to anonymously write down any question they have and we sort through them (for duplicates) and try to answer as many as possible.

My first year at a conference I had a wonderful, poignant experience that I hope never to forget. My second year was also profound, but in a much more humbling way, still, I hope never to forget it either.

You see, we had translator issues during our girls assembly and because of it, we weren't well understood. In addition, the translator was one of the female teachers and she seemed anxious to shut everything down so that the girls could get home before sundown. We did not get through many of the questions under these circumstances. It was frustrating and because I was the adult woman on our team trying to help younger team members through this experience, I felt like I had failed in some way.

I should stop to explain here that one question/comment was repeated numerous times in the stack of notes we were given from the students; it was a question regarding fear of s*x. It was asked in a variety of ways and I was all prepared to give a nice, neat, Christian answer for how s*x was designed by God and it was good within the context of marriage. Circumstances never allowed me to answer that question, which would turn out to be a good thing.

The girls session was ended abruptly and I was frustrated. As the students poured out of the classroom, I stepped outside for fresh air. I was irritated to see that the boys assembly was apparently going quite well on the other side of the school yard. Looked as though they were focused and embroiled in deep conversation. Boo-hoo for me (yes, my pity-party had begun).

Then a young lady named Agatha introduced herself. She explained that her question was never answered and she wondered if I might speak with her about it. We stepped aside for privacy as she explained to me how she had been raped earlier in the school year and was now fearful that she was going to die. She despaired that all of her parent's hard work to finance her education was now for nothing since she would more than likely die of AIDS. She then asked me if her rape meant she would no longer be welcomed in heaven.

I'm leaving out many details, but I assure you that her story was horrific. I did my best to assure her that she was the victim and that God did not pass judgement on her at all. I explained how faith in Jesus Christ was the way into heaven, pure and simple. Her salvation was secure. I tried to love on her and share God's love with her. I also encouraged her to seek counsel from a trusted female teacher at her school.

Now I understood more clearly all those "fear about s*x" questions. They weren't fearful of the natural act of intercourse, they were scared that all s*x led to physical death - literally.

I don't totally understand the reasons why so many Africans are still un-educated about safe s*x and the spread of disease. I do know a little bit about tribal practices and ridiculous superstitions that affect the s*x life of many African men - like the belief that if you have s*x with a virgin you will rid yourself of AIDS. This may explain why rape is so prevalent many places in Africa. I don't know. All I do know is that young Agatha is just one of many young ladies dealing with the shame and fear of being raped.

I pouted for a while after that conference and I believe God let me go through that process so I would better understand the difference between His agenda and my own. You see, my American view of success meant confidence, compliments and lots of students coming to the Lord. I left that experience feeling like an utter failure.

In retrospect I have to believe that no matter how poorly I felt like the rest of that day went, perhaps God had me there for that ONE. I know for a fact that God cares for that one girl and he knows her by name: Agatha.

As I recount this story to you I feel sad once again that my heart can sometimes be so contrary to God's and I feel sorrow for Agatha. However, I stand firm in believing that no matter what cultural differences exist in the world, there is only one true answer - one path to lasting change.

His name is Jesus.

"For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only son that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." - John 3:16-17

- Julie

[FYI, I had to misspell the word s*x throughout this posting because apparently there are perverts who like to hijack other people's web addresses and use them for their own perverted purposes...ugh.]

Chipati Saves the Day!

My first trip to Kenya in '07 was filled with new experiences. Each day we partnered with translators and walked the trails visiting with people in their homes talking to them about Jesus then we came back together around 2:00 for lunch. Our hostess, Aidah Ogenga was (and is still) very protective of her Mzungu guests and makes sure to prepare American food that will not upset their systems (FYI, Mzungu means 'white man' in Swahili).


Then one day after a long dusty walk along the trails we were offered something new - a standard African meal - red beans and chipati bread. That, coupled with a bottled Orange Fanta or Bitter Lemon was like manna from heaven! Today, that manna came to our house.


The day started shaky with a breakfast of ugali. In the American South it is known as corn grits and in Italy it is known as polenta. Corn meal (prominently white, not yellow) is a main ingredient of the Kenyan diet. For breakfast it is prepared like grits and I think served with milk. Today I served it with a variety of toppings to try. Everyone ate it but I think I heard more than once, "So Mom, how many times a week do we eat this?"


[If any of you have ideas for topping our ugali breakfast gruel, please send us the love!]


For lunch I prepared a roasted vegetable stew that is technically Navajo, but utilizes all African ingredients. Since Africans make a lot of vegetable stews, I decided to go for it. To make it authentic, I made my first batch of chipati bread.


Chipati is an unleavened bread made from white flour and cooked in oil. NOT a healthy dish, but oh it is YUMMY (note the thumbs up in Eli's picture above). Chipati is another staple to the Kenyan diet and it serves as both food and utensil at a meal. We used it to scoop our stew and a few people actually fought over the two pieces we had leftover. I enjoyed making the chipati dough and I felt "one" with the bread and with my African sisters. Now if I can get my hands on a coke bottle to use as a rolling pin - that would be authentic!


Lunch was a totally different experience from breakfast yet it ended with the same question, "How many times a week do we eat this?" I noted a more optimistic tone over the chipati than I did over the ugali.


Just wait until they get the dinner version of ugali this weekend. I'll leave you with a hint: it is prepared so thick that it too serves as both food and utensil at the meal. Yum?


Until next time,

Julie

Allow Me To Explain...

...yet, how far back do I go?

Dave and I have been happily married for almost 19 years. My husband really enjoys telling people about Jesus. They call it "evangelism". When he was a kid he read those Christian comic books about smuggling bibles into China, flying airplanes into the Amazon, dying at spear-point for your faith, etc. I call that "crazy" - or at any rate, I use to.

I was happy for him, but I didn't really see myself as a missionary and I especially did not see myself as an evangelist, I mean, aren't those the people who stand on the streets hollering at people or those wearing too much eye makeup on TV? Nope, that wasn't me.

Over the years, God has blessed us with four amazing children. As soon as that first precious baby was placed in my arms, I started becoming less flexible to the idea of my husband going off into the world to smuggle bibles (or whatever it was that he wanted to do). I think they call that one "fear". For many years, and with each subsequent child that came along, my disregard for this "thing" God had placed inside my husband grew stronger. David talked to me less and less about his dreams of mission work, probably because my response always included something like, "Wait until the children are grown."

Then one day God convicted me to give up my irrational fears and trust him to know best for my man - the man He had created - and to give him permission to do whatever it was he felt God was calling him to do. I committed that attitude in writing and gave it to Dave in the event that I should falter and need a reminder. I suppose publishing this blog is another commitment, huh?

Shortly thereafter, I became challenged by the idea that "God so loved the whole world". What did it mean, exactly, to love the whole world? I asked God to teach me more about that and to change my own heart on the matter. Exactly one year later, I was on a plane to Kenya without my husband, going out into the world that God loves so much, to tell people about his son, Jesus. Yes, that is called evangelism and I'm pretty sure for that trip you could call me a missionary. Isn't God's sense of humor fabulous?

We have now done short term missions to Africa 3 years in a row. As we look forward to another trip this summer, I'm beginning to see that the seed God planted in my husband so long ago is growing into our family tree. We desire to go where God wants us to go and do what he asks of us. Is that still scary to me? Yes. But as I have learned from my African brothers and sisters, "God is good all the time! All the time, God is good!" so I choose to trust him.

Which brings us to fundraising. We want to approach it a little differently this year. In an effort to be more resourceful I have asked my family if they would be willing to eat beans and rice for a month. I reasoned that if we were frugal enough, we could save half our grocery budget and put that money towards the trip. As we worked out details, the beans and rice idea evolved.

Starting tomorrow, March 1, 2010, the Jacobsen family will begin eating like Africans as well as eating for Africa. I'll explain more about that as we go along, but for now, I hope you'll stay tuned.

May God Bless Your Day!