Congo Hope Blog

The Buffalo Story, Part 1

2011-12-20T17:34:00.002-05:00

The year was 1940 (before I, Jim was born). A missionary conference was called at Panzi, which is about 200 land miles SW from Nkara, where we presently work in Congo. Populated by the Bayaka people, they are a tribe known by their own as barbaric, noted for their killing. For instance, if there were on the war path and a member of the travelers was pregnant, another woman would assist in delivering the baby, and then the mother herself would grab her baby and smash its head against a big tree in the forest. She then joined her husband to fight the war against any tribe that got in the way. Such behavior was exhibited so as to frighten and threaten opponents, leaving little room for competition, a strategy for Bayaka reign. Bodies of the dead were sometimes eaten, and the goal was to be so mean that their foes would flee with whatever they could carry to the islands in the Congo River until the Bayaka people moved on to another location. This practice dates back to the days of Columbus.

Fast forward to 1940. Little had changed among the tribe. Now more reclusive, they lived in bands or groups here and there in Panzi an surrounding areas. In the late 1870's the Belgians forced them to come out of the forest and dwell in the plains of Congo so that communication began to open with them.

But for years, they were considered a backward people group. They did respond to the Gospel slowly in the early 1900's. At Panzi, Mr. & Mrs. Graves were the missionaries here, who for years didn't even have a car. Mr. Graves was a robust 6'4", 300 lb. Dad gave them money so they could erect a church building. My son, Todd, and I were in that church at Panzi in 1982, a large facility with at least 500 attending the services. The Bayakas were receptive. The mission of Panzi was growing.

Back to 1940. About 20 different missionaries had gathered for a conference that year. And, oh, how good some beef would taste, they all thought. Neither the tribe nor the Graves owned any cattle. Goat and wild meat were all that were available, including antelope. However, cape buffalo could be found in Panzi, and word got out that the missionaries would love to enjoy eating a big piece of buffalo steak, not only for its flavor but its capacity to feed up to 20 people.

Toma Kasabashi, who worked with Dr. Smith for many years as a builder, was also a hunter. He was of another tribe called the Bachok (bah choke) These tribes knew each other but kept their distance and did not intermarry. Their language was also very different.

I am sure that Toma got the word out that there was a need for some tasty beef. He and Dad probably discussed the possibility of hunting a buffalo and what a treat to the palate that would be! To me, personally, buffalo is one of the tastiest meats I have ever eaten. So after hearing Dr. Smith was looking for a buffalo, a chief from a village about 20 miles away came walking into the mission station and began to talk about a herd of buffalo on his land.

After Toma talked to the chief, he then went to Dad and informed him of the news of buffalo meat, and the discussion between the three of them took place early one morning. Laban, being a farm boy from New York, knew how to bring the bulls down, exactly where to hit, and how close to get before shooting. He also knew that the cape buffalo, a very mean beast considered one of the top 5 most dangerous animals in the world, can chase you if he gets wind of you; he can follow your scent for up to 2 miles and aggressively pursue you.

Dr. Smith's oldest son, Herb, was also in the truck. He was then 9 years old, and Dad told him he was to stay with the truck. Too dangerous to go. They checked their guns, and off they walked into the plains, the chief leading the way with his hunters, followed by Laban, Charlie, and Toma, to the herd.

They walked a good distance from the truck. Some of the chief's hunters rose up over a knoll, and there they were: "Bo ina, bo ina." they said. "There they are; there they are," to which the chief agreed. Everyone understood and, with pounding hearts, they gazed in the distance to view the beasts. This could either be dinner or death.

. . . to be continued.

Christmas at Nkara, Congo

2011-12-05T11:41:00.002-05:00

Picture yourself as an average Congolese national waking up at our mission station of Nkara to Christmas morning. This is what you would look around to:

Your bedroom consist of one small wooden bed frame covered with a grass-filled "mattress" gathered by you on a dry, sunny day. No dresser or chest of drawers enhances your bedroom, just a small trunk with yours and your siblings' clothes locked inside; no comforters or soft sheets to cover up with, just maybe clothes or old rags. If you have visited the little boutique recently, run by Kinanga, you may have been able to purchase a small lacy curtain to cover your screen-torn window.

The living room consists of a couple of unupholstered wooden chairs surrounding a small coffee table, and off to the side of the room is a somewhat larger table and 2 more chairs used for guests who drop by to visit and chat. The coffee table may boast a doily crocheted by the woman of the house after attending the Women's Literacy school, where she has learned to sew, write her name, and read the Bible for the very first time. Some of the walls may be lined with outdated Penney's catalogue pages with which children have been rewarded for memorizing Scripture in Sunday School. No Christmas tree will light up the room, and no decorations will give a festive mood.

There is no inside plumbing, no closets, no picture windows. The home will either be made of cement block, approximately 600 square feet, with a tin roof, or it will be a mud/stick dwelling with a thatched grass roof, about 400 square feet. As many as 4 children will sleep in one bed. The average-sized family has 8 to 10 children because so many die in childbirth or from malaria, typhoid, measles, pneumonia, or who knows what. So your home may have 3 bedrooms with 4 or 5 kids in two of the bedrooms and a third "master bedroom" for the parents.

Your feet will not feel the comfort of rugs. There will be no pretty dishes, no wallpaper, no paint on the walls, few towels, and no kitchen cupboards. An outside kitchen, which is really more like a smokehouse, sits close by. That way, if the kitchen catches on fire, at least the whole house doesn't burn down. Meals are cooked over an open fire, no ovens, unless you have had one made out of mud brick. In either case, the aroma of Christmas cookies will not entice your senses.

Stark is the atmosphere, drab the surroundings, but you can make a big difference in the lives of these-hard-working men and women of Laban and their precious families. Please take a minute to think about sending a staff member what we call a Dream Package, which includes a great meal in their eyes of beef, rice, greens, beans, bread, their staple of luku, and a coke. A piece of cloth for Mom and a shirt or pair of shoes for Dad, plus an item of clothing and most likely a small toy for each child. All this for the price of $300.

Your kindness will brighten up the dullness and flood their lives with holiday cheer and the love of Christ.

"He who has pity on the poor lends to the Lord, and that which he has given He will repay to him." Prov 19:17

Merry Christmas from Congo to you!!!

Aura of II Chronicles 20

2011-11-13T23:58:00.005-05:00

God's Word is alive.

Breathing.

Contemporary to all cultures and all times.

Powerful.

Moving.

Tonight I am awestruck with the 20th chapter of II Chronicles.

The Word speaks for itself. Read these verses with me.

v 1 After this, the Moabites, Ammonites, and with them the Meunites came against Jehoshaphat to battle.

V 2 It was told Jehoshaphat, A great multitude has come against you from beyond the Dead Sea, from Edom (who continued to oppose God and His people, even up to the time of Jesus when Herod (a descendant of Edom) tried to have him killed), and behold they are in Hazazon-tamar, which is En-gedi.

v 3 Then Jehoshaphat feared, and set himself determinedly, as his vital need to see the Lord; he proclaimed a fast in all Judah.

v 4 And Judah gathered together to ask help from the Lord; even out of all the cities of Judah they came to seek the Lord (yearning for Him with all their desire).

v 5 And Jehoshaphat stood in the assembly of Judah and Jerusalem in the house of the Lord before the new court.

v 6 And said, O Lord, God of our fathers, are You not God in heaven? And do You not rule over all the kingdoms of the nations? In Your hand are power and might, so that none is able to withstand You.

v 7 Did not You, O our God, drive out the inhabitants of this land before Your people Israel and give it forever to the descendants of Abraham Your friend?

v 8 They dwelt in it and have built You a sanctuary in it for Your Name, saying.

v 9 If evil comes upon us, the sword of judgment, or pestilence, or famine, we will stand before this house and before You--for Your Name and the symbol of Your presence is in this house--and cry to You in our affliction, and You will hear and save.

v 10 And now behold, the men of Ammon, Moab, and Mount Seir, whom You would not let Israel invade when they came from the land of Egypt, and whom they turned from and did not destroy--

v 11 Behold, they reward us by coming to drive us out of Your possession which You have given us to inherit.

v 12 O our God, will You not exercise judgment upon them For we have no might to stand against this great company that is coming against us. We do not know what to do, BUT OUR EYES ARE UPON YOU. YES!!!

V 13 And all Judah stood before the Lord, with their children and their wives.

Can you imagine what it would do to the heart of God if a great group of His children ALL STOOD BEFORE HIM with our children and their children, earnestly seeking Him with all of our eyes on him, declaring that we do not know what to do????

v 14 Then the Spirit of the Lord came upon Jahaziel son of Zechariah, the son of Benaiah, the son of Jeiel, the son of Mattaniah, a Levite of the sons of Asaph, in the midst of the assembly.

v 15 He said, Hearken, all Judah, you inhabitants of Jerusalem, and you King Jehoshaphat, The Lord says this to you: Be not afraid or dismayed at this great multitude: for the battle is not yours, but God's.

Who is the great multitude in our lives? Who are the great giants? Who is threatening to steal our joy? God says not to fear them. Don't. Fear. Them. There is no reason to fear them. God says so.

Why? Because the battle is not ours; the battle is the Lord's.

v 16 Tomorrow go down to them. Behold, they will come up by the Ascent of Ziz, and you will find them t the end of the ravine before the Wilderness of Jeruel.

So get this next verse. Go down and do what?

v 17 You shall not need to fight in this battle; take your positions, stand still, an see the deliverance of the Lord Who is with you, O Judah and Jerusalem. Fear not nor be dismayed. Tomorrow go out against them; for the Lord is with you.

Now it had to have taken courage to go and confront them, to line up and gather together, to simply show up--yes, that took courage. But to stand there and wait for the onslaught--now that, is downright nonsensical, humanly speaking.

But that is exactly what they were told to do. Show up. Be still. Don't get excited. Put all your trust in God. Go to the very edge of the precipice and calmly wait for God to rescue you!

I LOVE Jehoshaphat's response.

v 18 And Jehoshaphat bowed his head with his face to the ground, an all Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem fell down before the Lord, worshiping Him.

Oh, God, forgive me for all the times you have brought me to a pinnacle of faith, and I diluted my obedience with doubt? How many times have I failed to worship you, to be quiet, to bow down to the ground in total and sweet surrender? Forgive me, Lord.

v 19 And some Levites of the Kohathites and Korahites stood up to praise the Lord, the God of Israel, with a very loud voice.

v 20 And they rose early in the morning and went out into the Wilderness of Tekoa; and as they went out, Jehoshaphat stood and said, Hear me, O Judah, and you inhabitants of Jerusalem! Believe in the Lord your God and you shall be established; believe and remain steadfast to His prophets and you shall propser. BELIEVE, just believe.

v 21 When he had consulted with the people, he appointed singers to sing to the Lord and praise Him in their hold priestly garments as they went out before the army, saying, Give thanks to the Lord, for His mercy and loving-kindness endure forever!

Now Jehoshaphat is bringing out the big guns--PRAISE!

Look what happens next:

v 22 And when they began to sing and to praise, the Lord set ambushments against the men of Ammom, Moab, and Mount Seir who had come against Judah, and they were self-slaughtered. Self-slaughtered!!!

v 23 For suspecting betrayal the men of Ammon and Moab rose against those of Mount Seir, utterly destroyed them. And when they had made an end of the men of Seir, they all helped to destroy one another.

Amazing!

v 24 And when Judah came to the watchtower of the wilderness, they looked at the multitude, and behold, they were dead bodies fallen to the earth, and none had escaped!

. . . v 29 "And the fear of God came upon all the kingdoms of those countries when they heard that the Lord had fought against the enemies of Israel.

v 30 So the realm of Jehoshaphat was quiet, for his God gave him rest round about."

How incredible that God's people got caught up with Him, and God got caught up with their praise of Him.

Remarkable that Jehoshaphat's realm was quiet.

Remarkable that the enemies turned on each other instead of Jehoshaphat and God's people.

Remarkable that the battle was won.

Remarkable the power of humility and the turning of the eyes on God.

Remarkable the investment of praise and its return.

Upcoming Benefit Concert for Laban Ministries Int

2011-10-20T16:21:00.003-04:00

On Thursday, Nov 3, at 7 p.m. we are gathering at the Gilead Baptist Church in Taylor MI to lift high the Name that is above every name; that name of Jesus. Thirty-three years ago, my husband and I left for what was then called Zaire, now known as the Democratic Republic of Congo, in the heart of Africa.

I went kicking and screaming inside, petrified of what God might require of me. And you know what, God understood, and he sort of winked at my basket-case state. The first two years I cried everyday from culture shock, loneliness, inability to communicate, fear, and unmet expectations. Oh to grace, how great a debtor. . . The amazing grace of God kept my husband there (the land of his birth and death for both parents), kept our kids there, and kept me there. That's the miracle of those first two years.

That's the victory cry of my soul--I stayed!!! By His Grace and His Grace alone.

I was pregnant on a mission campus with no other missionaries, but his grace kept me staying one day at a time.

Other veteran missionary ladies told me they had their baby in the back of the truck. No worries. Wha?????? I could barely breathe at this news, but. . . I stayed. And I did not have my baby in the back of a truck, thank you very much, but at a medical mission station with the best of care.

God gave us a 9 lb baby boy which I was not able to feed the way I wanted to and had to give him full cream milk with no refrigeration available and only the use of a wood stove to sterilize his bottles, but. . . I stayed. AND HE LIVED WITH NO ADVERSE REACTION TO FULL CREAM MILK CALLED KLIM!

I could barely speak a sentence and certainly did not understand what the nationals were saying to me, but I stayed. The roaring silence of not hearing anyone else in the bush outside my family speak English brought me to a halt emotionally, but. . . I stayed. In time I learned the language and understood when spoken to and loved the breakthrough.

We were without radio, telephone service, or an airport close by to evacuate us had any major health issues arisen, but. . . I stayed, and the Lord healed us without the intervention of a doctor that first year of these lacks. After all, He is Who He says He is--the Great Physician!

I had no malls to shop in, no Jif peanut butter, no chocolate, (yikes); my kids had no gramma or grampa to spoil them, and my mobility stopped at breakneck speed, but. . . I stayed, and God poured out His Spirit and told me He was enough. . . AND HE WAS!!

The stubborn kerosene frig and us just didn't get along. Jim spent hours trying to get it to work for years. It never did that first term, and most days we drank only room temp water in 90 degree weather. No ice cubes or ice cream. No cold cokes. No cold water, but. . . I stayed and saw our level of appreciation sky rocket when those things were once more enjoyed. God loves a thankful heart. He taught us sooooo much about being thankful, praise His Name.

No TV, no movies except World's Apart, no lights, and no running water, but our coping mechanisms seemingly rose from the dead. Lack of these distractions was the very thing that pushed us toward each other in those lonely years. Hours together with no interruptions but a baby's cries became an refuge and created great family life. I kept staying. . .

I stayed until I no longer felt like an alien on Mars

Until I learned the language

Until I realized I was no longer on my way to the Funny Farm

Until the culture shock abated

Until I realized all the things that really mattered in life, I had

Until I saw the Hand of God enough times to let me know I could stay as long as He wanted me to. . .

In Africa

Because He was and is enough.

If I can be a missionary, anyone can.

Since those days, the Lord has done amazing things in Congo, and we want to let you in on some of them.

Please come and join us. Let us meet you and tell you a little more about the wonderful people we work with in Africa.

Come and hear our son, Jack's, amazing, passionate voice.

Come and be a part of the link of rescuers, rescuing souls from Hell through the Gospel of the Lord Jesus Christ.

We cannot do what we do without you.

Those of you who are already behind this work prayerfully and financially, please allow us to thank you and hug you.

Oh to grace, how great a debtor. . . Thank you Jesus. Without you I am absolutely nothing. I love you so.

I

I'm back!

2011-10-19T18:05:00.002-04:00

Hi everyone!

It feels so good to be here writing to you again. The long absence has been due a brand new website being built and then a mess up with the email and password. A graphically gifted man donated hours of thought and time into redesigning the website and combined his talents and thoughts with those of our youngest son, Jack Smith, and this is what they came up with www.labanminisries.org.

I intend to get back to blogging very soon. In the meantime, please pray for a court date that is coming up on October 25, 2011 in Congo where we serve the Lord as missionaries. It is over a property dispute. More on that later.

Have missed you.

Nancy Smith

Graduates

2011-07-28T12:37:00.001-04:00

July 2nd was the 28th promotion of Laban Bible Institute. Five men and one woman were given a diploma after completing three years of study. For some, that means separation from their families for much of the years that they attend. It may mean a walk of over 100 miles one way, six times in one year, as they come in October, return to their village for Christmas, come back to school in January until Easter, and then finally return home in July for the dry season.

All were in good health and high spirits and their relatives showed great pride as they embraced and kissed their son or daughter after receiving the prized diploma. Six chorales from all over the area sang. Some of our instruments, speakers, and amplifiers are all worn out, so we did it all accapella, but truthfully, nothing was missed as the multi-harmonies blended so well. The program consisted of a short discourse from the academic dean, prayer led by three people, a challenge from God's Word given by Pastor Kilasi, our present lab tech and pastor of the church at Ntsiangobo (formerly pastored by the late Pastor Kilundu), special messages to the grads by Jim and myself.

Four hours later, we returned home to dine with our friends with Kinshasa while a small crowd of approximately 150 people enjoyed two roasted pigs we acquired by trading for motorcycle parts. As well as luku (wall paper paste!) and greens. The chorale groups continued singing until after dusk, which we could hear all the way from our home. The wealth and beauty of this significant day lulled us to sleep that evening and we praised God for these soldiers of the cross who are just starting the good fight. They join ranks with our other 500 graduated pastors in this huge province of Bandundu, Congo.

Glory Day

2011-07-25T12:26:00.000-04:00

We experienced a glory day in Congo. We, along with our friends from Kinshasa, made our way to Mbila where several students and staff taught 1 Corinthians 5:1-21, after which, as much as possible, the village was evangelized with the D. James Kennedy Explosion program. This continued until dark and then the movie The Passion was shown to 1500 people. Many professions were made.

While the Explosion program was taking place, I had the privilege of showing our friends our Ecole De Femme (our women's literary center). First we visited group A who spouted off fact after fact about the book of Colossians such as:

* The author
* When it was written
* The theme
* Total amount of verses
* The recipients

Hands were flying in the air with the other hand holding their precious Bibles, some of which you have provided. Faces were filled with joy and pride as they confidently answered question after question. Then we visited group B, a large group of women who knew somewhat how to read last August when they started classes. They gave the same responses about the Galatians in like manner.

The last class of ladies was group C. They totaled about fifty and were thrilled to see so many white people. They beamed as they stood to read the alphabet in rapid fashion, then their vowel, consonants, words, and phrases. How far they have all come in 11 months! What a deliverance from darkness, despair, ignorance, and hopelessness. Blessed with the true wealth of God's Word, they excitedly recited some of that wealth that they have claimed for themselves that nothing and no one can rob them of. The experience was delicious for all of us.

The truth of Psalm 3:3 rang true today:

"You are my glory and the lifter of my head."

Glory! Glory! Glory!

Jesus Wept

2011-07-22T12:21:00.002-04:00

Recently, as our missionary friends and children gathered in our living room and dining room, Pastor Kilasi appeared at the door to ask if Mabwa, our mechanic, could come quickly and drive the land cruiser up to the dispensary to take a mom to the state clinic. Her baby's head was out of the birth canal, but she could not deliver the shoulders because of her lack of strength. A few hours later, they returned to tell us that the eleven pound baby boy was born dead.

All the anticipation of seeing her number two baby face to face was swallowed in grief and loss for this young woman. May the God of all comfort minister to her breaking heart. Jesus wept and so do we.

The Wake of Death

2011-07-11T09:00:00.002-04:00

Traditions. Traiditions! So hard to break. Their clutching tentacles embedded deeply in years of repetition become at times roots of horror and haunting regret. Such is the case of Ngunza's family.

On june 4, 2011, our favorite sentinel came to work as usual. His wife was ready to deliver anyday. She had made several prenatal visits to our dispensary, and Marvina, the head nurse and midwife, admonished her not to waste any time getting herself back to the dispensary once she went into labor.

"Do you promise me to comply?" "Yes" was the response. "Do you understand how important it is for you to come right away? You've already had six children. I urge you not to delay when you start contracting, OK?" "OK." That was the day before she started her labor.

We left for Kinshasa the next day, not realizing that conversation had taken place between Marvina and Ngunza's wife.

The morning after our arrival in Kin, Jim groaned over the phone as Pastor Ezekiel told him of her death. She had delivered twins and bled to death.

There was apparently no problem birthing the twins, but a while later she began to hemorrhage. Ngunza was at work down aerobic hill that leads to the mission as a night sentinel, and he didn't even know what was going on.

Anger and sorrow braided with perplexity gripped me. The family doesn't own a bike, but I know bikes are available.

Why didn't she go through with her vow to get to the dispensary right away?

Why didn't anyone tell Ngunza she was in labor? It would have taken about 10 minutes to get to him.

Why didn't they carry her there, especially when she started bleeding?

Why did the family sit by and allow her to lose all that blood?

I don't know. What I do know is that Ngunza's wife is not the only one to not break tradition, to not go against the tide and risk heavy ridicule from the relatives.

Village tradition says, "We can handle this ourselves. We can save some money by staying home. We want to resort to village cures first. We don't need to go get help until things get really bad."

Shindani was expecting her fifth child in 1992. The first four died in her womb. instead of getting her to a doctor at the first sign of labor, the village "fathers" waited five days. Then, when desperation set in on Shindan's part, such as labored breathing and agonizing pains with no relife in sight, they brought her to us. But it was too late.

As Jim was fueling up the airplane to fly her to Vanga for a C section, she died near the airplane hangar.

Needless deaths in both cases.

Field of Dreams

2011-06-27T12:13:00.003-04:00

As I walked our airstrip today, memories flooded my mind of the past three decades we have traveled back and forth to this country of Congo. When we arrived, there was no way of communicating with missionaries at Vanga, 57 miles from here or in Kikwit, 60 miles south of us. Had there been a medical emergency or political crisis demanding evacuation of our family, our vehicle would have been our way out. Jim chose a site of the much-needed airstrip about a mile from our home. Local villagers were encouraged to help cut down the 1000 or so scrub trees that filled the land. Our staff then cleared the land of the stumps by hand with shovels and leveling began by running the 7 ton army truck (1957 Mercedes) back and forth over the rough terrain. Grass was planted and 15 months later, the first plane arrived.

MAF Pilot Gary VanWagner landed the first ever Cessna 206 to grace our little "O-Hare -y" airport. What a great occasion it was, celebrating with elephant horns, the butchering of a cow, and the attendance of hundreds of people, drums, and happy faces everywhere, praising God for this wonderful development. The coming of MAF would mean a quick medical evacuation if needed for delivering babies, treating all kinds of threatening diseases - serious malaria cases, broken limbs, and accidental injuries that otherwise may have claimed lives. In those early days, MAF pilots were angels in my eyes as they dropped long-awaited mail to us, which was a life-line to me. I will remember how forlorn I became after going without mail for weeks and weeks while still dealing everyday with culture shock and loneliness that first year in Congo.

Jim became so concerned, he drove all the way to Vanga, where MAF had dropped off mail for us and then turned around and drove all the way back to NKara, arriving at 3 a.m. I heard the sound of the motor rumbling down Aerobic Hill and quickly lit the kerosene lamp to meet him. On the table he placed a stack of letters which I sat up the rest of the night reading. Now we had our own airstrip and mail could come frequently. The airstrip also provided a way to bring Shawn home when she attended school at Karawa, Then later we welcomed our three older children back home when they attended school in Kin at TASOK. The airstrip also enabled visitors to come see Laban for themselves, which included those who helped build LBI and Radio Glory.

Lastly, I love that strip because it has been my prayer altar for years. It is such a welcome reprieve from all the demands of the mission. God has met us there through ideas He has given, through victories He has assured us of through the supply of His presence, and the conviction of sin and promise of forgiveness and restoration, through worshiping the Lamb slain before the foundation of the world and delighting in the bright hope of the believer's future. Thank you, Lord, for this sacred ground.

A typical day on the mission campus in Congo

2011-06-07T06:09:00.004-04:00

Many have asked what a typical day in Congo is like. Although each day is somewhat predictable, events can occur that are so spontaneous they cancel any plans that might have been in place.

For instance, a severe tropical storm can come out of the blue, sending everyone to retreat to their homes or the nearest shelter, not to be seen again until all is calm.

Other "interruptions" come our way. Sometimes they are from the hand of God; sometimes they are from the enemy.

Yesterday, we should have left the house at 7:30 a.m. to go to the Women's Literacy Center at Mbila. However, a surprise trip to Bulungu, the local government center, was required to present our case in defense of our ownership of Nkara-Ewa. This meant that several lunches had to be packed for the men going, including Jim, and thinking through of all that may be needed for the trip, such as legal documents, water, shovel, and money. Than two students made their pleas to go as well, one to repair a bike, the other to go as far as Bulungu and then on to the hospital at Vanga for a large hernia that could not longer be ignored.

After seeing the group off with prayer, we headed out for Mbila. No one was waiting for us there, which isn't really unusual in Congo according to Congo time. Things simply start when they start. But an usually long delay eventually proved that a 3-year-old toddler we had seen being carried on the road 2 days previously--her limp body hanging in the arms of her father--had died. He and his reltives were half walking/half running to get the child to the nearest clinic some miles away. She died this morning, probably of malaria.

The lack of attendance was explained. In Congo, if someone dies from your village, in your village, or wherever they might be at the time, especially if they belong to your family, you become a suspect of the cause of death if you do not present yourself to grieve with them.

After waiting more than an hour, a large crowd did gather of groups A, B, and C, and we had classes.

Before leaving Mbila, Marie, the Director of the Lit Center and the professors visited the family and spoke on the meaning of death and the hope of seeing Jesus again.

We then returned to Nkara and telephoned the travellers to Bulungu. They had made it safely, having crossed the hippo and crock infested waters of the Kwilu River on the barge and were passing through various government offices.

I took a short break and then walked the mile and a half round trip to Laban Bible Institute to teach Malachi that same afternoon. Congo's scorching tropical sun beat down on me, and I was relieved to arrive in the cool shelter of the building.

After reviewing the introduction, themes, outline, and first 6 verses of Malachi, I returned home, changed clothes, and climbed aerobic hill to call Jim. I met Pastor Kilasi and Pastor Richard visiting from Iwungu, who said they had tried calling the group several times to no avail.

My mind was on heading towards the airstrip for a prayer walk, which I love doing in the cool of the afternoon. The strip is 3400 feet long and usually a caressing breeze makes it a very pleasant place to pray.

But, as I started of, the pastors and Aza of our work staff warned me not to go. "Madame, the son of Lumenga (a former member of our work staff) recently lost his mind. He's doing crazy things like undressing himself and sleeping in the dirt. Just this morning he went down to the mission and threw rocks at Pastor Mboma's windows."

As he was about to enter university in Kikwit the previous fall, he became very concerned about his ability to make it and get good grades, so he started attending sessions with magicians and witch doctors to insure good grades and success in school. Now his life is apparently in shambles, and he has the spirit of demons, even endangering people's lives if he can get close enough to them.

He became so distracted with demonic seduction that he never completed even a trimester of studies and has returned home to his heartsick parents, but they cannot contain him.

Ironically, just this moment as I am writing this blog, a voice is heard in our front yard. It is the voice of the young man I am describing chanting in nonsensical language, waving his arms in the air with a bow in his possession.

One never knows what a day holds here in Congo. We are staying put until someone apprehends him.

The most typical thing about a typical day in Congo is that you can count on the unexpected!

A Twin Delivered

2011-06-07T05:59:00.003-04:00

A couple of weeks ago, I asked our Bible institute students to give their testimonies. One was particularly interesting.

His name is Kalala, and he was reared in a village of another denomination. Because he is a twin, he was asked to perform ceremonies on newborn twins, who even in the 90's in parts of Congo were frowned upon though no longer murdered.

He told me that each twin had to be wiped down with a white, chalky substance to invoke blessing and prevent illness and death. A minister from the only denomination allowed in that village told Kalala he and others assisting him must die when they expressed great interest in opening a church of a different faith, real faith.

But. . . he did not die. He was beaming with the joy of being delivered first through salvation from evil rites performed on him and on those which he performed on others, not to mention the horrors of hell before he trusted Christ, as well as the freeing God's word rendered to him to carry out His will.

How exciting to be a part of all of this. It is absolutely exhilerating to the soul!

Fourteen Mile Trek Just For a Sewing Lesson

2011-05-30T06:00:00.001-04:00

The women of Mbila continue to amaze me. I stayed behind in Kinshasa when we first arrived in Congo this time to wait for a projectors from America to arrive. When I flew into Nkara, at the airport were close to 40 women who had walked 7 miles to be part of the welcoming crew.

A few days later, as I was walking to the Bible institute to teach Malachi, I saw several women in the old Bible school building. They were the same women from Mbila who had welcomed me. Only this time, they had walked all that way for a sewing lesson at the Bible school! The trek from Mbila to Nkara is 14 miles round trip, but oh so happy they were to be lifted above the doldrums of village life into a beautiful world of creativity, by sewing a skirt for themselves or a pair of culottes for their child.

My first day of teaching Malachi to these women was yesterday. The day before, I heard them give a recitation about Philippians that told me that they know that book like the back of their hand. They then went on to give the history, introduction, and main theme of Colossians, while group B was going verse by verse through Galatians.

It blows my mind with exultant praise to God to see how satisfying and completing is the Word of God to these ladies. When I visited group C, I was thrilled to see their progress as well. A few short months ago they didn't know A from Z. Now, some of them zoom through the alphabet, read and write all the vowels, are learning their consonant sounds, and read, write, and speak short sentences.

Many of them are in their thirties and forties and they work very hard and long hours to recognize and speak words. To them, the 14 mile journey from Mbila to Nkara and back each week is the icing on the cake. God bless the women of Mbila.

Our Next Women's Literary Center

2011-05-28T06:00:00.000-04:00

Yesterday, six women appeared at the gate with gifts of bananas and avocados. Traditionally, people travel long distances just to welcome us to Congo and extend well wishes on us. These came from about five miles away. The sun was baking us, so we made our way to a large shade tree in front of our house. Just then, the professors from the women’s lit. school joined us to meet together and discuss and plan for the rest of the school year at Mbila. Our visitors said that they had been watching what a blessing the school had been to the women of Mbila and asked, with great interest, if we would start one at their village.

I quickly gave them four prerequisites before we could hold classes there:

There must be order. The children had to be confined to another part of the village as we cannot teach with hundreds of kids running around.

There must be a building in which to teach.

It had to be the will of God.

There must be great hunger on the women’s part to learn to read.

We, of course, cannot have two literary centers at once, so we will have to wait until 2013 when we graduate the women of Mbila. Looks like our work is cut out for us for the next five years.

On His Knees

2011-05-26T17:19:00.000-04:00

Aaron, a third year Bible institute student, grinned widely as he walked through the door, beaming with joy and enthusiasm. His smiles are never far away. He is a pleasure to be around. Showing his copious notes taken at last year’s Romans seminar, he reviewed the points he learned about the incredible grace of God - how it never runs out, how vital it is to our functioning, how available it is to everyone, even children, and how it calms the soul and works patience in our lives. He correlated the grace of God with 15 Bible verses and shared this information in a three day seminar about 60 miles from here over Christmas vacation.

The results were quite rewarding. Thousands attended and many responded positively for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. As he kneeled, he handed me a tithe from the offering taken those three days and asked me to bless it. What a delight it was to consecrate the one dollar and eleven cents in the envelope to be used in the ministry of Laban. He walked sixty miles to hand deliver it. Without a doubt, I received the biggest blessing.

Psalm 20

2011-05-08T17:39:00.002-04:00

May the Lord answer you when you are in distress
may the name of the God of Jacob protect you.

May He send you help form the sanctuary
and grant you support from Zion. . .

May He give you the desire of your heart
and make all your plans succeed.

We will shout for joy when you are victorious
and will lift up our banners in the name of our God

May the Lord grant all your requests.

Now I know that the Lord saves his anointed;
He answers him from His holy heaven with the saving power of his right hand

Some trust in chariots and some in horses,
but we trust in the name of the Lord our God,

They are brought to their knees and fall,
but we rise up and stand firm. . .

O Lord, answer us when we call!

The deeds of faithless men. . .

2011-04-29T15:46:00.012-04:00

We have served the Lord in Congo for almost 33 years. My husband, Jim, was born into missionary life. He was handed down a legacy full of the wealth of faith, the peaceable fruits of righteous parents, the challenges brought about by living in a third world country, the ecstacy of seeing the Hand of God work in the hearts of men so that 1200 were baptized in a day at a time multiple times, and the transformation of depraved souls being rebirthed into the family of the Etneral One. This is the springboard of his childhood from which he jumped into serving Christ as an adult, making his own inroads, knowing God for himself through the death of his father first at the age of 11, and then promising God after the death of his 18-year-old brother when Jim was 16 that he would give God a year by reading the Bible. If, during that year, God proved Himself to my husband, he would give that Book its due for the rest of his life. This he has consistently attempted to do.

I come from great stock but stock who did not embrace the Savior passionately, nor did they know Him for most of their lives. But God in His mercies reached down and lifted my head and heart to know Him at the age of twelve. I walked upstream as a teenager to go to church, to read my Bible, to venture out in faith because my parents were both burned as teenagers by the church and its leaders and did not understand my newfound faith.

When Jim and I met in Bible school, I was captivated by his confidence in God. Our first 13 years of marriage were spent serving Christ at a local church in Michigan. Then Congo called, and I was never to be the same person again. I owe much of my molding and shaping to this country we missionaries can love and hate at the same time. Love it for the opportunities it offers to minister, for the hunger we see here to know Christ, for the simplicity of life and the forcing of one's soul to get and live back to and in the basics of life. We at the same time can hate the injustice we see all around, including graft and corruption beyond imagination that has become a mindset and mentality for those used and abused by the system.

Corruption in the "church" is the worst. We face a community group who has taken on the name of a denomination here in Congo that is full of hypocrisy. And, as Ezra faced great lapses in time while rebuilding the temple because of opposition and discouragement, and Nehemiah had to take a strong stand against men who tried to bluff him and his coworkers into fear and dismay, so we must take courage as we make our way to the mission campus to fight the good fight of faith.

We Christians tend not to like that word, fight. BUT it is Biblical, and there is such a thing as righteous indignation. Righteous indignation over impudence and hardheartedness. Spurgeon (and I paraphrase and quote his commentary out of Morning and Evening on April 28 (evening):

"Impudence refers to a hardness of forehead, a lack of holy shame, or boldness in evil. . . For a sinner to go to God's house and pretend to pray to Him and praise Him displays a brazen-faced hypocrisy of the worst kind!. . . Hardheartedness is having a heart of stone, although through grace I now have a new and fleshy heart, much of my former stubbornness remains. I am not affected by the death of Jesus as I ought to be. Neither am I moved by the ruin of my fellowmen, the wickedness of the times, the chastisement of my heavenly Father, and my own failures, as I should be. O, that my heart would melt at the mention of my Savior's sufferings and death. The Savior's precious blood is the universal solvent. It will soften even me, until my heart melts as wax before the fire

We all identify with these two ugly descriptions of character. No one is devoid of them. However, when both hardheartedness and impudence not only come knocking but are allowed to stay because we don't battle or deal with them or are so sin sick we don't recognize them, then that's another issue.

And this is what we are up against at the mission in the months ahead. Some of the impudence and hardheartedness we will find in people there who are unredeemed, instruments of satan. We will also find it in believers. Believers who have allowed sin to come and indwell, make itself at home in, and overtake their wills and hearts. They have stopped endeavoring to lead a blameless life as described in Psalm 15. They have stopped doing what is righteous, stopped speaking the truth from their hearts, stopped refusing to have slander on their tongues, stopped refusing to do their neighbors wrong, stopped refusing to cast slurs on their fellowman, stopped despising vile men, stopped honoring those who fear the Lord, and stopped keeping their oaths. . .

So we are approaching this time out here in a fighting mode. Fighting for what pleases God, fighting for righteousness, fighting against evil, rampant immorality, corruption in the church, and fighting against lifestyles impregnated with lies. We do this on our knees; the battle is the Lord's. Will you fight the good fight with us?

In the meantime, God forbid that we allow the deeds of faithless men to cling to us, Ps. 101:3b. We must not obsess ourselves with their evil slander, with their evil tongues, with their bullying, with their threats and their illegal documents. We must not allow these evil deeds to rob us of our joy and the abundant life for which Jesus came, but glory in His Presence, and praise Him which is the highest form of trust we can give to our Lord Jesus Christ because we know it's not about us but about His glory!

Remembering Chico

2011-04-25T20:24:00.004-04:00

Tonight as I sat at the computer posting comments on Facebook, my mind went back to decades ago when we had a chimp named Chico. We took him off the hands of missioanries in Kinshasa who had no problem letting him go. They at that time lived in Kinshasa, had taken Chico into their lives when he was a baby, and he was now in need of more space.

We drove our 1957 Mercedes Army Truck (it was now 1983) out of the city on our way to our bush mission station of Nkara-Ewa. At the time there was a roadblock at the end of the city, where "soldiers" hasseled people for money, somewhat similar to the troll in a nursery rhyme I heard as a kid. As we pulled up to the well-known barrier, the "security" person walked up to the passenger side of the truck, and to his amazement Chico jumped up to the front seat from the back to greet him. Chico put his leg on Jim's leg, made his way closer to the "guard", and became chief of the day. The man backed up very quickly and motioned us to go on. That was one time we didn't have to pay anything.

Chico grew very close to Jim. He went on road trips with him, sitting in his lap with his hands on the steering wheel as if he knew what he was doing. He had a take charge kind of personality. These memories are playing in my mind tonight:

Chico charging after Todd at the age of about 11 as he was riding his little Honda 50in the yard, jumping on the back of it, and pulling Todd's hair. Todd won, but it was a struggle.

Me chasing Chico in the house with a broom after he dipped his fingers in the jelly jar.

Chico coming after me with a big limb when he saw Jim and I holding hands. I escaped.

Chico grabbing a baby out of his mother's arms and running to climb a tree holding a real live baby in his arms, not realizing that human babies do not hold on to the hair of a chimp's chest as do baby chimps. The baby was quickly rescued and returned to his mother.

Chico running up to Shawn's bedroom and sprawling out on her bed with his hands clasped under his head and one leg crossed over the other until Shawn found him and evacuated him from her room.

Chico climbing the clothes line, grabbing our clothes, and scurrying up the big mango tree, semidressing himself, peering down at us as if to say, "Catch me if you can."

Chico sitting in the back seat of our Blazer, swigging Coke from the bottle with his knees crossed and one hand behind his head.

He truly brought us a lot of laughter and good times. There never was a dull moment when he was around. Remembering Chico reminds me that God has an amazing sense of humor!

Returning to Congo

2011-04-24T13:42:00.004-04:00

The long-awaited day of April 20 has come and gone. After reassuring the people at the ticket counter of United Airlines that we could indeed check all of our 20 pieces all the way through to Kinshasa, and after their phone call to confirm that our overnight in Johannesburg was mandatory made by the airlines, I breathed a sigh of relief, and the tagging of each bag began. We pack our goods in plastic tubs purchased from Walmart because it is the cheapest way to go. However, there is no way to secure the tub with a lock, so they are closed with plastic ties.

Some of the tubs were 1 lb over the alloted 50, and others were 5 or more lb. Obviously, we need a better scale in the States! So that meant that we had to dig in each overweight piece and put however items that equaled that weight into another tub. In this case, we brought an extra tub just in case. Good thinking, Jim!

So, because Jim bought a gazillion extra ties, and soon all the opened tubs were once more weighed, passed the weight test, and resealed. Whew!

This process took about an hour and 15 minutes, and we made our way to the gate in Detroit, never to put eyes on our luggage again until we reached kinshasa, hopefully. We fell into our seats & relaxed for the hour flight to Chicago. From Chicago we went on to Washington Dulles, about a 2 hr. flight, and then we boarded South African Airlines for Johannesburg. I took a melatonin and rested in lala land most of the 16 hr. flight.

The evening in Johannesburg was cool and beautiful. This is their fall. June and July will bring winter weather. We ordered a lovely meal in our room, fell into bed, and slept until 2:30 a.m. Arose and reviewed some things awaiting us in Congo, and left the hotel at 6 a.m.

Arrival on Friday in Kinshasa was uneventful, and all 20 pieces made it!!! Yay God. Thanks for your prayers and concern. We are in this together.

about to leave

2011-04-19T22:39:00.003-04:00

Many years ago, after participating in a mission conference several nights of the week, the pastor of the church told Jim and I he felt his church would not be supporting us because there was too much "glory" in what we did. By that he meant that his church attenders would not understand and be able to equal our experiences of traveling through Europe and purchasing expenses perfumes and the like. In other words being a missionary was all about the glory. . .

It is now about 4 a.m. Weary, exhausted, and not feeling very glorious, we are about to climb in a car, take 19 trunks to Metro Airport, deal with people who are freaked out at our "excess" baggage, board 3 planes during two stops, and sit in one of them for 16 hours straight until we land at Johannesburg.

Once in Kinshasa, we unpack, sort, and repack all the goods, sending the heavier ones up on a rented truck to Kikwit, where we will hire another truck to deliver them to the mission campus because both of our trucks recently died. The lighter trunks will follow us up on the MAF plane, where we once again unpack, sort, and put away either upstairs or downstairs, begin cleaning a house that has not been lived in since October, 2010, deal with an enemy organization recently enlarged by men we had to let go of last trip, go to court over the property given to Jim's father in the 40's, which they continue to claim is their own, and deal with new staff issues.

After we settle in a little bit, we will witness miracles, laughter, tears, untold joy, spiritual breakthroughs, staff meetings, discipleship meetings under a big old mango tree at the dispensary, funeral(s), teaching in Laban Bible Institute, incredible evangelism outreaches, ministering in the Women's Lit Center attended by 94 women at Mbila, hearing moving testimonies from some of these women, letting more staff go, meeting returning students in the Bible school, attending graduation, and a myriad of other experiences.

We come home the richer for having been in a third world country, like Congo. And the glory? Yes, it will be there. But not the glory this pastor spoke of. It will be the glory of God unleashed! which is ETERNAL! Praise His Name!

Eve of our Departure

2011-04-19T22:03:00.003-04:00

Tomorrow we will rise at 4 a.m. and leave approximately 1/2 hour for the airport. The kind neighbor across the street has offered to take all of our 19 trunks (including a lawn mower & 4 trunks of solar radios) in his trailer, which Jim is at this minute loading with the packed, sealed, addressed, spotty spray painted, 50 lb plastic tubs.

It has been stressful and draining to restrain ourselves from buying even what we could really use in Congo as well as actually unwrapping it (to reduce weight), packing each item in a zip lock bag if it is something that could spill, and weighing it so as not to exceed the allotted measly 50 lb. limit per piece of checked baggage. Money for supplies is tight and also shipping each trunk has become very expensive. If we can go with some of the many things we need once we get to Africa, we prefer doing that. But that may mean up to more than 30 trunks. That's a no no this year. We are doing half of that this year. Hooray for restraint!

As with many ministry organizations, Laban Ministries International has been hard hit over the past two years, especially. This resulted in making staff cuts, paring down expenses here, thinking about every potential expense before making it one, and taking pay cuts ourselves. Despite the fact that we have had less to work with, we are current in overseas salaries, have no credit card balances, owe no one anything (except to love them), and continue to see God provide as He has since the inception of this work in 1938.

The little book of Philippians tells us to rejoice 16 times. It's not an option or a suggestion. It is a command. Furthermore, Paul goes on to say that reminding his audience repeatedly to rejoice is not something that he tires of doing. He says that for them it is safe. In other words, it is like a safety net around them that keeps them in line, stabilizes them, and produces an even keel in the hectic lives they lived, even way back when. They need no longer focus on what they don't have but on the one whose every gift or lack thereof is good and perfect.

So, I thank you Lord that we are taking less this year. That means less stress in buying, less stress in packing, less money outlay for shipping, less keeping track of, and a lot of other lesses. Thank you for less, Lord. Less is really more.

Holding on to your dreams

2011-04-13T19:08:00.000-04:00

Imagine having no radio where you live, no TV, no way of being let in on news of any kind No media. No newspapers. TOTAL ISOLATION would be your world.

This has been the lot of bush dwellers in our area of the Congo. Superstition, fear, discouragement, depression, loneliness, and boredom are the products of this kind of isolation.

A dream of Jim's since 1981 when he along with some of our staff began praying for an effective follow up to consistent widespread evangelism, Radio Glory was finally birthed 23 years later in July, 2004.

Many would have given up on the dream much sooner.

However, one of Jim's gifts is faith, and so discouragement is not his lot, even if it means waiting, and waiting, and waiting.

Even if it means people doubting the validity of his dream.

Even if it means no funding to finance the dream.

Even if it goes against the norm; i. e. a radio station flourishing in the bush of Congo, 400 miles from the capital city?

Yes,

Because the dream was given by God.

Because the dream was to benefit the poor who are a class of people very close to the heart of God.

Because the motive of the broadcasting was not only to diffuse the isolation, but to exult the Word of God, which God holds equal to His Name.

Because God is faithful and if He gives the dream, He will fulfill it, despite the obstacles.

Because God is worthy.

Hold fast to your God-honoring dreams.

Wait on Him, and in the waiting, be sure you praise His Holy Name,

For He inhabits the praises of His people.

Remember how David assigned 4,000 people in the temple to the job of PRAISING GOD.

Remember that there are myriads of angels whose occupation in heaven is to praise the Lord 24/7.

Remember who you are talking to: The Ancient of Days, the Great I AM, the Creator, and Redeemer of all mankind.

Remember that you are fearfully and wonderfully made by the One who knows all your down sittings and uprisings.

Remember that while we were yet sinners, Christ, the Darling of Heaven, died for us.

Remember that the Israelites continued to stray in the wilderness for 40 years because they did not remember what great works God wrought in their lives delivering them out of Egypt.

Dream, pray, wait, hold fast, praise, and remember. Don't be sucked up by the world's attitude of entitlement. Run from it.

Relinquishment of your will to His and humbling yourself before Him are what He loves and where He is most comfortable and closest to, and the conditions that cause Him to respond.

We are entitled to nothing but Hell apart from Christ.

But oh! What measures He has taken to rescue us from Hell.

"Accepted in the Beloved." The maintainer of my lot. My Alpha and Omega.

My God, I stand in awe of you and your ways.

Lord of Breaking Through

2011-04-05T23:33:00.006-04:00

"David smote the Philistines at Baal-Perazim and he said, 'God has broken my enemies by His hand, like the bursting forth of water.' Therefore, they called the name of that place Baal-Perazim--Lord of breaking through."

In a few weeks, we take off for another world we have been privileged to work in for nearly 33 years. As fertile a ground as the land of Congo is spiritually, there are real enemies of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. They come in all shapes, sizes, and guises there just as they do here. They crave power, position, and money at any cost. Like weeds, they spring up and take over ground that is not rightfully theirs.

Having had their hands in the affairs of Nkara-Ewa for more than 50 years first by invitation to take over the state-operated school system, this "church" community has now become fleshly, corrupt, and immoral. In fact, I would go so far as to call them evil. Their strength is deceit; they have crafted lying into an art form.

Property issues settled legally long ago through government-drawn documents given first of all to Dr. & Mrs. Laban Smith, and then confirmed to Laban's wife, Marcella, years after Laban's death have continued to surface, despite the real proof of ownership. Their presence and influence of the mission property of Nkara has been a curse disguised in the cloak of a "church" group known as the Community of Baptist Churches in Congo.

The newly elected Chief pastor of the district voted in last year was found to be guilty of sleeping with more than one woman. He follows a long line of chief "pastors" who have left such legacies as ravagers of national Congolese youths attending the high school at Nkara, confiscating tuition monies for personal gain, lying, cheating, and characteristically living a life-style contrary to the Word of God.

Their 50 year plus presence has gained an incredible stronghold that only God the Holy Spirit can break through.

But we take heart in David's declaration, and we claim with him a spiritual renaming of our Nkara campus: Baal-Perazim, the place where God will break our enemies by His Hand like the bursting forth of water."

Lord, as we return to Congo in a few days, we implore You to come be the Lord of breaking through.

Break through the curse.

Break through the power of their evil presence.

Break through the stronghold they have gained.

Break through the guise and reveal who they really are.

Break through and diffuse their plans to take over Nkara.

Break through their false documents that say "Nkara is theirs."

Break through their traps and our preoccupation of the unknown that is before us.

And in the breaking through, we praise You for the power, blessing, glory and honor you will claim for Yourself.

Amen and amen!

Warm fruit cocktail anyone?

2011-03-16T21:50:00.007-04:00

It was a beautiful day in June of 1979 in the Congo.

Jim, Shawn, Nicol, and Todd had just returned from Kinshasa, where they had picked up our first REAL food shipment arriving in Kinshasa from South Africa earlier in the month.

They had first gone by Nkara, our mission campus, to drop off the brand new beautiful aqua and black wood stove. Now we could return Mupia's, which had been left to him by Marcella, Jim's mom years ago, when he used to cook for her. He had graciously allowed us to borrow it until we were able to get our own.

I had flown to the medical mission station of Vanga two weeks before my due date because of some pre-delivery signs. In order to do that, we first had to drive to Kikwit because the airstrip at our mission was not yet completed. It was around the middle of June when we left Nkara with my bags packed, shovels for the road repair one never knew might be needed, food, water, and clothes for the children and Jim.

The plan was to drop me off at Kikwit, a 3 1/2 hour drive in our new Suburban, and stay at the guest house there until the MAF plane could come pick me up. Jim and the children would then proceed on to Kinshasa to get supplies, take them back to Nkara, a 15 hr. trip each way, and finally make their way to Vanga to wait for our baby's birth together.

We did not want to impose on the missionaries at Vanga, Dr. Dan and Miriam Fountain, and felt that I would be enough of a challenge to feed, even though we planned to pay for this service. We called MAF on another missionary's radio from Kikwit, and he picked me up at the Kikwit airport nervous and anxious, contemplating my going into labor on his small plane while making our way to Vanga.

The children and Jim left from Kikwit, arriving in Kinshasa that evening after seeing me off. Things went well, and on June 27, they all returned with delicious commodities such as jelly, fruit cocktail, canned meatballs, and wonderful delectables we had yearned for since January.

Vanga was an American Baptist mission station established at the turn of the century. It is located about 57 miles from our campus. The Fountains were highly respected missionaries, and I felt safe there. I slept in a small brick building, read during the day, and prayed that they would make it before Jack's birth. My due date was June 30. The fellowship I enjoyed with other American missionaries was so wonderful it made the wait easier.

Each night an American nurse slept in the same room as I in case I went into labor. We enjoyed good conversations, and she was encouraging and comforting. Her years of nursing experience gave me confidence and strength.

As the Suburban pulled up to the house that morning I was delirious with joy to see my family once again. Jim and the kids unloaded part of the food shipment, and Shawn and I grabbed a can of fruit cocktail and a jar of strawberry jam.

Gary Kapinga, the first person to come and work with us, came back with Jim and the kids from Nkara and offered to fix lunch for us. He made bread. We cooked some of the canned meat, boiled potatoes which we felt were to die for, and looked forward to enjoying fruit cocktail for desert.

Though Gary had the best of intentions in wanting to help us with the meal, when he brought "desert" to us, the kids wept as they tasted their long anticipated treat. Gary had warmed the fruit cocktail on the stove! Hot fruit cocktail! Having never seen anything a can like this, he had no idea that it was served cold.

The next day, June 28, began with contractions which lasted throughout the morning into the early afternoon. It was time.

We made our way up the hill from the vacant MAF house we were staying in back to the small brick building to finish out labor and delivery. At approximately 5:30 that evening, 9 lb, 21 inch long John Scott Smith, was born. He was healthy and strong. We were all thrilled.

So thankful I did not have to deliver him in the back of our vehicle in between destinations, I looked at his amazing little body, so perfect and praised God for His mercies. Not so with every missionary, some of whom had told me they delivered their babies in the back of a truck. I told the Lord I was too much of a chicken to do that and begged him for as normal a delivery experience as possible. He allowed me to have just that.

Just moments after Jack's birth, (named after Jim's brother who had been crushed to death in a rock fall when he was only 18 and Jim 16), Shawn, Nicol, and Todd took turns holding him.

I will forever be grateful for having Jack in Congo. He made me feel very needed and gave me hours of gratification as I had to keep going to take care of him along with our three other children.

What an amazing kindness of God to bring a baby into our lives in the bush of Africa. He was so welcomed and loved by us all. Not to mention, the thrill Jim experienced of having his own child born born in the country of his birth.

Why didn't you make this a long time ago?

2011-03-10T14:25:00.009-05:00

It was May of 1979, two months after our arrival at Nkara-Ewa, the "other world" I was trying so desperately to learn to call "home." Awaiting our food shipment arrival which would take place 400 miles away in Kinshasa, we pursued our new life and new "normal" in a land very foreign to me. It was a world away from the "norm" I left behind.

My new normal was just getting through the day without a melt down or succumbing to the terror of feeling insane. Feeling like we had made a mistake. Feeling as though somehow we had missed God's will.

This surely could not be the life God had carved out so skillfully with loving Hands for us?

I was always told the will of God would fit like a glove. Where was the fit?

How much of the turbulence in my soul was due to my pregnancy hormones?

How much was due to the oppression all around me I couldn't put a name to yet?

How much was real culture shock?

Too wrapped up in just surviving, I was unable to recognize or sort out and process these questions. I couldn't even verbalize them at the time. So, at the end of the day, I lay in the black night of Congo (unless a full moon is out) and quoted Psalm 56:3, "When I am afraid I will trust in Thee." I loved that verse. I loved David because he admitted he was afraid. I was terrified.

His words pumped soothing grace into my soul. "When I am afraid," not "don't be afraid."

He was terror struck. Hunted and dogged. He had control over nothing. He dodged Saul's pursuit of death, never knowing what to expect, where to flee, and dealt on the sly with the once glowing promise that he would one day reign as Israel"s king. Dancing with danger became his portion. Perhaps the glory of Samuel's presence before David's father inaugurating him King of Israel out of all his brothers was now but a dim memory that he found difficult to embrace.

I clung to that verse. I identified with his terror as the shadows of evening fell until in the still quiet of the night, whispering those blessed words over and over, Jesus would come and "sit awhile with me" until sleep finally cradled me.

They say timing is everything. Coming to Congo in the late 70's humanly speaking was bad timing. The president had arrogantly told expatriates to get out. They were no longer welcomed or needed. Congo or Zaire as it was then called could get along very well without them, thank you very much.

So many expatriate businessmen did just that. They pulled out and took their commodities with them, leaving little on the shelves of the stores in Kinshasa but tomato paste and flour. Having no means of transportation yet and not being familiar with where we could get some other food stuffs, we turned to ordering our food from South Africa. Most of the missionary community did the same. I remember filling out that first order with my mouth watering as I contemplated actually tasting some of the items on the list. That order we placed in March we would not see the light of day until June, but we did not know that then. The food order was placed in Kinshasa, 400 miles away from our bush station. It was now May.

Since necessity is the mother of invention and we were all hungry, I decided to venture outside (a rare thing for this pathetic "missionary" to do in those days, and see what I could find. What to my wandering eyes did appear but a patch of spinach growing heartily on a plot of soil that Jim's Mom, Marcella, had planted when she arrived at Nkara the previous November. She died 10 days after her arrival there, but left us a product of her talented green thumb right there in our front yard.

I asked the Lord to show me what to do with all this fresh spinach. Remember the tomato paste? We had plenty of that plus some onions on the shelf in the pantry, both of which I diced and mixed into a black cast iron skillet and heated it on the wood stove. Rice was a readily available commodity. To the tomato past and onion I added pepper, boiled up a big pot of rice, and decided to surprise everyone that evening with my gourmet cooking.

Psalms says it is good to be hemmed in and backed against a corner because it has a way of enlarging us. " You have freed me when I was hemmed in and enlarged me when I was in distress. . . " Ps 4:1 Congo has a way of hemming us into a corner, and the quickest way out is to praise the Lord in the hemming in and in the cornering. That is a form of trust. It enlarges our capacity for the next time. It enlarges our borders. It frees us from the encumbrances of life, from the prison of self-absorption. We must fix our eyes on Jesus to survive. We will find new capacity to jump out of the boat. We don't tend to box Him in as much, and if relinquished to His greater will and good, it produces an attitude of gratitude. We begin to know a little more of Who God really is.

Never was I so thankful for raw spinach, which I had never before treasured. It became precious in my sight. Here was a change in the daily diet of rice and saka saka (African greens cooked in palm oil) that made my palate happy.

That night when the family gathered around the dinner table, I proudly displayed my new concoction. Would I ever have been so excited about presenting my husband and children a dish like this in America? Are you kidding? But because we had suffered what you might call culinary lacks, I was almost gleeful, wondering what their response would be.

We sat down to the table. We partook of the bounty. To my great surprise and delight, my children dove in and ate my offering. The best comment came from Jim. "This is great! Why didn't you make this a long time ago?"

I can't tell you how many times I went to the pantry after that, stared at the sparsely stocked shelves, and said, "Lord what can I make out of this nothing today?" And He gave me ideas over and over again.

I love to quote an incredible Bible school professor Jim and I had the privilege of rubbing shoulders with years ago. Before we were married, Jim was going to quit school because funds were not available to continue. When Dr. Shaw heard of his plans, he said, "Jim, the Lord never steers a parked car." He then rehearsed the story of Abraham sending his servant Eleazar to claim a wife for Isaac. He said, "I being in the way, the Lord led me." Dr. Shaw encouraged Jim to stay in school by faith and trust God for the money. He saw a promising future in this missionary kid's life. So Jim did. A few weeks later, Jim found an envelope in his mail box with a check for the amount of that semester's tuition. "I being in the way, the Lord led me." We do not know to this day who provided that money, but we have an idea.

Sometimes God's leading hurts. It suffers consequences. It is full of testing. It doesn't fit like a glove; in fact, it doesn't seem to fit at all. There are not necessarily answers at the time to the predicaments facing us as a result of doing what we so clearly hearing Him telling us to do. But we cannot faint because of the pain. We must allow God to push us through the pain to the other side, which may be a long way off. However, we must stay in the way. We must keep making ourselves available to Him. We must remain faithful. We must hang in there.

Those first two years I no more felt like a missionary than the goats did that ran through our yard in Congo. The will of God did not fit or feel good at all. I never cried so much in my life, but our glorious Father gave the grace to stay, to stick it out.

Two young men, possibly teenagers or college-aged men in the New Testament were given orders to carry out. One said that he would but he didn't. The other said he wouldn't but he did what he was told to do. I am the latter. I never wanted to go to Africa. For years I ran from the very thing that has helped make me who I am today.

There have to be other missionaries out there who feel the same way I did. You are young and struggling with the hand out God has given you. Life does not look at all as you pictured it would look. Take courage, my dear sister. We are called to share in Christ's sufferings. That spectrum of suffering is multifaceted and varied. This life is short. Let's remember we are just pilgrims. We are aliens. This world is not our home. We are just passing through. We have an adversary, the Devil, who goes about seeking whom he may devour.

Find relief in basking in God's goodness, in knowing you are not called to figure life out. True success is not measured in results or numbers, in popularity or recognition, in wealth or material riches. True success in God's sight is FAITHFULNESS. How many times does the book of Revelation admonish us to persevere.

If God can make a missionary out of me, He can make a missionary out of anyone. All praise, laud, adulation, and glory go to Him who redeems us and our situations as many times as they need redeeming. Beware of settling in to despair, of letting it become your bedfellow. Fight it with praise and letting God's Word be the salve of your sad soul. Don't allow it to paralyze you from exulting Him in the storms of life. Even in the darkness and pain you feel, lift your hands heavenward and tell Him He is worthy of the suffering you may be going through. "Count it all joy" James says when you fall into various trials, even though you feel artificial when you offer those words of praise. David calls thiss a SACRIFICE of praise because we don't feel like praising. Nonetheless He asks us to obey. Obedience is the best. It brings about the peaceable fruits of righteousness. Praise Him because God says you should. Just do it!!

As your days, so shall your strength be

2011-02-08T12:03:00.011-05:00

I ended my last post recalling how I prayed for the rapture to take place each night in bed while listening to the rats gallop across the attic floor shortly after we arrived at the mission campus of Nkara-Ewa.

We had really arrived.

We were really here to stay.

No more dreaming or wondering what life would actually look like in Africa. It was now in front of our faces. We were living life in the BUSH.

Eventually, the D-con we brought took care of the "horses hooves" sound in the attic. Nonetheless, I continued to ask the Lord to come rescue me from my loneliness, culture shock, inability to communicate with the people He called us to minister to, and fear of losing the baby I was carrying because that might be what it took to make me a good missionary! Crazy?, yes, but that was my reality. I pondered losing our baby over and over again.

Why? Because I knew it had happened to others in Africa. Yes, the rapture would be an honorable way to leave it all behind.

I had signed up for ministry at the age of 22 when I married Jim. We were immersed in every phase of outreach at the Warrendale Community Church in Dearborn, Michigan, he for 13 years and I for 10 years. Then we went on a wild ride into music evangelism for 3 years. Being called by God into ministry as a vocation, as a passion, and as a lifetime endeavor is risk taking. Because God chooses to prove Himself again and again for His glory's sake to anyone willing to be a proving ground, He can show up in any fashion He so chooses. Since His ways are so far above our ways, I knew we would not be exempt from some of the suffering missionaries and pastors undergo, even to the point of dying themselves or surrendering their children into the arms of God; i.e., Laban and Marcella Smith.

They were my role models.

They set the stage.

They were my pattern to follow.

They were a legacy in Congo.

They were my legacy.

Still are.

As I faced this real possibility but long-shot probability each day, I began developing a pattern by the grace of God that would more than likely save me from high blood pressure, heart attack, and nervous breakdown big time. I entered the life-support world of RELINQUISHMENT and SURRENDER. If there is one place in the world where one is never in control, it is Congo. More than not, whatever can go wrong usually will go wrong. Despite the curse the country seems to be wearing, the spiritual returns are absolutely incomparable. Congo is so ripe for the Gospel, it makes most struggles pale in comparison to the results seen when the Gospel is delivered and preaching and Bible teaching find place and take root in the hearts of the nationals.

The idea of surrender was not a new theme to me. But I definitely needed to step it up and to take my level of relinquishing much higher. The bar needed to be raised. Dying to self took on whole new dimensions.

Opening the 31 barrels and 7 crates that same week we arrived at Nkara was a delightful distraction. It was so delicious seeing, touching, and using something from our homeland. We love our "stuff", don't we?, and this stuff became a part of who we were 8500 miles from our mother country. Our stuff brought America closer.

One of the most important items we shipped to Congo was a generator to give us electricity each night. Jim did the necessary wiring, purchased fuel to run the generator, and voila! we had lights!!! Oh, the joy of not sitting in the dark, dark nights in Congo with only candle light or kerosene. To this day, one of the reasons I love my husband was that he saw to it we had electricity from the start. Try going without it a couple of nights and see how you fare!

No phones. No gas stove. Cooking was done on a wood stove, which contained a dial up timer on the front. We used to turn that timer on and wait for it to go off. It was the closest thing to a telephone we had. The kerosene refrigerator we ordered from South Africa never really cooled food or water well. There were no kitchen cupboards, and so sheets of plywood became my counters, placed over the shipping barrels once emptied. No running water. All hand carried. We took baths in a big bowl filled with water carried to the house from a far-away stream and then carried up two flights of stairs. Water was more than a precious commodity!

One day I moved an empty barrel in the living room, only to find a family of scorpions living underneath it. If we only knew--you and me--what the Lord has protected us from all these years, we would fall on our faces and praise HIM!!! Even without knowing, let's fall before Him.

In the meantime, I survived by home schooling Shawn, Nicol, and Todd each day and waiting for Jack to join our family.

My feeble attempt at speaking the language caused great distress. Because I was laughed at, I retreated many times due to embarrassment and frustration. Many days out of those first two years I cried. Jim would often stand looking out our bedroom window, forlorn, repeating, "My God, what have I done to my family?"

Here is where the glory began showing its face. . . in stages.

The glory was in the grace of God that enabled us to stay.

The glory was in the grace of God that enabled us to obey.

Obedience is better than sacrifice.

Because Jim was so concerned about my mental and emotional well being, he decided we needed to get out of the bush on a regular basis. Since few groceries were available in Kikwit (60 miles from us) and on a helter-skelter basis, we would travel to Kinshasa, the capital, 400 miles away to pick up food and supplies and fellowship with some people who would become dear friends.

On one such trip I made my way to Dawn Sawatsky's home to attend the Friday morning prayer time. In the center of the bed was a box of tissues and surrounding the bed were we women on our knees petitioning the Great I AM. Next to me that particular day was a single veteran missionary. I would later learn that a missionary could be called a veteran after one term of service. This lady, however, had given most of her life to service in Congo. I found myself gawking at her, wondering how in the world she managed to accomplish that feat. She was joyful, focused, full of faith, and loved to praise the Lord.

It was the month of December. We had been in Congo for a year. As we knelt that day and I imbibed the prayers of these wonderful heroes of the faith, something miraculous happened in my heart.

As what I perceived to be the beautiful incense of their prayers rising up to the throne of The Ancient of Days, I started praising God for the two arms and two legs I had to serve Him. I heard myself saying, "Oh, Lord, if I only had two more hands and two more feet to serve you with, I would gladly do it." All of a sudden (it felt like) I got it! It became real in my heart, not just an intellectual assent, that He kept track of everything I was going through, and nothing would be wasted. He saw my tears. He heard my cries. He knew my fears, and NONE of any of those things would be in vain. None of them. They were not being spent on mediocrity. They were given up to the One Who is Worthy. He was worthy of it all. . . and so much more.

Something was released in me that day. I was never the same again. He spoke peace over me. I experienced the reality of Zephaniah 3:17, "The Lord Your God is in the midst of you. He is Mighty to save. He will rejoice over you with joy; He will rest in silent satisfaction, and in His love He will be silent and make no mention of past sins, or even recall them; He will exult over you with singing"

"Worthy is the Lamb that was slain to receive power and riches, wisdom and strength, glory and honor and blessing!"

What glory! what bliss were mine!

Arrival at Nkara, March, 1979

2011-01-02T01:57:00.008-05:00

Happy New Year to you all!

In 1978, God called my husband to the Democratic Republic of Congo. Despite the fact that people told me I also had to have that call on my life, initially that just did not happen. Anything but. However, I loved my husband dearly and followed the voice of God by following the call my husband heard to Africa.

We spent the first 7 weeks there in the capital city of Kinshasa and then moved more interior to the large city of Kikwit, where we stayed another 6 weeks before finally arriving at the mission campus of Nkara, where Jim spent happy childhood years. While in Kikwit, the children picked up much of the Kituba language, learned songs in Lingala and Kituba, and spent hours learning to entertain themselves. Necessity is the mother of invention, and with limited resources like cereal boxes and bits of material, the girls learned to make doll houses and clothes for their dolls. Todd played soccer, and I waited eagerly for our new baby.

I also anticipated how it would feel to experience God's ultimate will for my life--serving Him on the mission field in Congo. Certainly, the feeling of "glory" would be involved. After all, this was the mission field, from which I had always run, heard weird things about, lost my father-in-law to and now his dear Marcella a short time before our arrival. And so there was a perception on my part that despite all the drama and fear, since we went ahead as a couple and family to become missionaries in Africa, there would be some dramatic compensation on God's part.

In preparation for our trip to Africa, we packed 31 50 gallon drums or barrels, 7 crates, and loaded a new Chevy Suburban with a wringer washer, dishes, and other items to set up housekeeping in Congo. They were shipped by boat in October and word came one day that they had arrived at the port city of Matadi, about 900 miles south of Kikwit in early March.

A national businessman by the name of Mungwa, which means salt, provided transportation to pick up all our shipment and transport it to Nkara, another 60 miles north of Kikwit. The children rode in his large semi, and Jim and I drove the Suburban until we reached the hill down to the mission station. Off we went to the place where both of Jim's parents gave their lives. I waited for the glory.

Dr. Smith had been building the home in 1949-1953 in which we now live while in Congo. It was almost completed on that shocking day in January of 1953. At breakfast that morning he told his family, "I feel so good today I could jump over the moon." He had completed almost all of the beautiful stone structure and was putting rafters on the roof of the porch connected to the master bedroom upstairs. Suddenly, things changed forever. His foot slipped, and he fell 6 feet to a cement floor, starting hemorrhaging internally, and after several hours of waiting for one of the other missionaries to drive Laban to Kikwit to the hospital, it was decided that Jim's older brother, Jack, who was just 13 at the time would drive the 6-ton truck himself . They could wait no longer. Jim, his mother, Jack, and some nationals made the slow, horror-filled trek into town to try to keep Laban alive. They arrived at the hospital 9 hours later, and Laban passed away 60 minutes after that.

Jack and Jim were waiting outside the hospital room where Laban lay. Their mother, Marcella, had come out once and told them that it wouldn't be long "until he goes." Their young minds could not grasp the meaning of her words. She then returned to Laban's room, and soon after that they heard the unforgettable groaning, "Oh! My God!" pouring out from Marcella's soul. She walked out of the room to the place where Jack and Jim were sitting. "Boys, he's gone to be with the Lord," to which Jim replied, "Can he come back?" Marcella left in silence and returned to Laban's room.

Jim and Jack started singing, "Do Lord, Oh do Lord, Oh, do remember me." He was buried a few days later in Kikwit. Thousands and thousands of people attended his funeral. Jim and Jack were in shock.

Would God require that of me? to give up my husband to His service as Marcella was asked to do? Would God ask me to give up one of my children to serve him? What about the baby I was carrying in my womb? My mind raced with awful scenarios about being stranded in the remote bush with a starving baby, after having run out of supplies to take care of him. Jim's brother, Jack, as an 18-year-old was killed in a rock fall. His baby brother had died at the age of 14 months. Would death be my experience as well? After all, people do die on the mission field through martyrdom, accidents, malaria gone wild, and untreated diseases they don't even know they have. They have personality conflicts with other missionaries, power struggles just like their friends in America, breakdowns, and broken hearts. Since I had married into this family who had experienced a life full of tragedy on one hand and exultant, incredible responses to the Gospel and spiritual victories on the other, I asked myself, "What would my lot be?" The fear could be gripping at times at the start of my new, inexperienced missionary career.

After all, my family were blue collar, practical, hard-working, backbone America type of people, who didn't move around a lot and never traveled outside the US. They loved structure, sameness, safety, 9 to 5 jobs, and did not embrace the Savior I loved. My husband grew up in a family of risk-taking, ruggedly living, faith-filled, God-loving adventurers who cried from their souls, "Bring it on, Lord." What was i thinking when I married Jim???

Mungwa's big truck made its way down what we now call aerobic hill, with our children sitting on top of the goods for the last few miles and Jim and I following in the new Suburban we had purchased the year before near Muskegon MI. Muskegon this was not. Lavish green hills and valley awaited us surrounded by a horse-shoe shaped hill. This was Nkara.

Jim got out of the Suburban, and I took over driving so he could capture it on video. Hundreds of people were waiting for us in front of the beautiful three-story brick and sandstone home Laban had built, hoping one day to house his boys returning to Africa to carry on the work. Of the two, Jack was the one who so wanted to return. He wanted to come back as a medical doctor. That dream was snuffed out one cold night in January, 1958, five years after Laban died. When dating Jim, he told me he couldn't even bring himself to talk about his brother's death until about 5 or 6 years. That was in 1964, the year we dated and married.

Childhood is such a gift. Totally oblivious to the gravity of our making the decision to go and actually moving to Congo, Shawn, Nicol, and Todd bounced off the truck, greeted people, and ran down the hill in front of our house to the lake.

We made our way through the crowd and went into the home we had visited in 1969 to see if the Lord was truly calling us to this far-away land. Surely, as I entered the doors, the glory I was waiting for would greet me.

Instead the colors of the walls almost made me pass out along with the smells my sensitive nose took in. The living room was a drab green with bright red baseboards, followed by a mustard yellow dining room, once again accented by red trim. The kitchen was a mixture of the mustard yellow and green, Bathrooms down and up were chocolate brown with black trim, and everywhere was the smell of livestock, who in the Africa culture are very welcome to occupy space in the house. Five families had lived in that home for I don't know how long. Forty-eight windows made for great ventillation, but also allowed other critters to travel about freely because there were no screens on any of these windows.

There were no kitchen cupboards, no appliances, little furniture. We would learn later that a reprobate "pastor" upon Marcella's death which took place in Jim's office downstairs, had stolen a refrigerator, beds, mattresses, clothes, and even the children's toys Marcella had purchased upon her arrival in Congo.

This same man lent us his? bed, his? dining room table and chairs, and his? living room furniture until we could buy our own. A feeling of dread and alienation swept over me as we got through the next several weeks. I couldn't communicate to anyone. There was no running water. I could hardly bring myself to use the toilet upstairs (there was none downstairs) because I was sure a snake lived inside it and might reach up and bite my tush.

We went to sleep by the sound of galloping rats in the attic. Somehow we acquired some rat poison, and when it took affect, we used to wait for the rats to drunkenly make their down to the second floor looking for water. It was our Saturday Night Live. The nearest doctor was 60 miles away, and we had no phone or short wave radio to communicate in case I went into labor. Was this a mistake? Did we somehow miss what seemed to be such clear directions from the Lord?

I began thinking about how we could get out of this mess we found ourselves in, especially me, for my husband spoke the language, which all came back to him after a 26 year absence. I was lost, homesick, and afraid. Then the idea came on my bed one night that we could leave honorably if the rapture took place! So each night I prayed and prayed that the Lord would do just that--rapture us from this isolated misery I found myself in. There was no glory here. Something had gone terribly wrong. We wouldn't dare turn around and go home. Too many people praying. Too many people giving sacrificially so we could make the move, and who would want to face Dr. David Allen's bony finger pointing at us saying, "What are you doing here. You're supposed to be in Africa serving the Lord." But if Jesus raptured us, all problems would be solved!!! It didn't happen.

A Twin Delivered

2011-01-01T06:00:00.000-05:00

A few days ago, I asked our Bible school students to give their testimony. One was particularly interesting. His name is Kalala and he was raised in a village of another denomination. Kalala is a twin, and in his early twenties, he was chosen to perform ceremonies on twin babies, who, even in the 90s in Congo were frowned upon, though no longer murdered.

I asked him to describe the rites he was asked to carry out. One ritual was that each twin had to be wiped down with a white, chalky substance to invoke blessing from the ancestors (demonic spirits) and prevent illness and death. A minister from the only denomination allowed in that village told him he must die when he found out Kalala had been saved through one of our evangelism campaigns and was opening another church not of the other denomination. But he did not die. He was beaming with the joy of being delivered first through salvation and then through the freeing of God's Word. How exciting to be part of all this! It is exhilarating to the soul.

Diversion: Christmas in Congo

2010-12-16T11:01:00.002-05:00

For the last 3 posts, I have been sharing our early days in Congo on this blog. Today I want to share with you what a typical Christmas in Congo is like. Transport yourself to another world, the Third World country of the Democratic Republic of Congo, formerly Zaire, formerly Belgian Congo, and see that many of our traditions will not find themselves out there whatsoever. No Christmas trees. No decorations. No Santa. No gifts most likely. No snow. No malls. Try to start with a clean slate, which means erasing your childhood and adult memories that equate Christmas to you. As best as I know how, I will describe to you the surroundings that you would wake up to on Christmas morning. Here we go!

Christmas in Congo

Your bedroom consists of one small wooden bed frame covered with a grass-filled "mattress" gathered by you on a dry, sunny day. No dresser or chest of drawers enhances your bedroom, just a small trunk with yours and your siblings clothes locked inside; no comforters or soft sheets to cover up with, just maybe clothes or old rags. If you have visited the local boutique lately, you may have been able to purchase a small, lacey curtain to cover your screen-torn window.

The living room consists of a couple of unupholstered wooden chairs surrounding a small coffee table, and off to the side of the room is a somewhat larger table and two more chairs used for guests who drop by to visit and chat. The coffee table may boast a daily crocheted by the woman of the house after attending the Women's Literacy school where she has learned to sew, write her name, and read the Bible for the very first time. Some of the walls may be lined with Penney's catalogue pages with which children have been rewarded for memorizing Scripture in Sunday School. No Christmas tree will light up the room, and no decorations will give a festive mood.

There is no inside plumbing, no closets, no picture windows. The home will either be made of cement block, approximately 600 square feet with a tin roof, or it will be a mud/stick dwelling with a thatched grass roof, about 400 square feet. As many as four children will sleep in one bed. The average-sized family has eight to ten children because so many die in childbirth or from malaria, typhoid, measles, pneumonia, or who knows what. So your home may have three bedrooms with four or five kids in two of the bedrooms and a third "master bedroom" for the parents.

Your feet will not feel the comfort of rugs, but instead a dirt floor. There will be no pretty dishes, no wallpaper, no paint on the walls, few towels, no TV, and no kitchen cupboards. An outside kitchen, which is really more like a smoke house, sits close by. That way, if the kitchen catches on fire, at least the whole house doesn't burn down. meals are cooked over an open fire, no ovens, unless you have had one made out of mud brick. In either case, the aroma of Christmas cookies will not entice your senses.

Stark is the atmosphere, drab the surrounds, but stout are many hearts because their faith in Jesus is rich and firm. However, Christmas is still Christmas, and children are still children. you can make a big difference in the lives of these hard-working men and women of Laban and their precious families. One option we offer every Christmas is what we call The Dream Package. For $300 you can feed an entire family of 8 to 10, consisting of a meal of beef, rice, gravy, bread, chicken with palm oil and tomato sauce, luku (like a thick, thick porridge), greens, beans and cokes for the family. This Dream Package also includes a new cloth for the mother to make her a dress, a new pair of shoes or shirt for the father, clothes for each of the children as well as a toy. Will you pray about how you can make their Christmas Day special.

Your kindness will brighten up the dullness and flood their lives with holiday cheer and the love of Christ.

Blessings!

Kikwit, a place you can spend a week in in a night

2010-12-12T14:37:00.005-05:00

So after arriving in Kinshasa, Democratic of Republic on Dec 8, 1978, my husband, Jim and our three children Shawn, Nicol, and Todd with one more on the way, and I were rescued by a unique couple called the Voths. The next seven weeks we learned a few ropes in the capital city, met some wonderful fellow missionaries, and then it was time to leave.

We flew on a Mission Aviation Fellowship plane to the city of Kikwit, a town of then around 700,000 people, including several mennonite missionaries, none of whom we knew before. After Solomon (cook at the missionary guest house where we were residing) exhausted his culinary arts, specializing in burnt toast, eggs cooked quite well, and plain rice for lunch and dinner, our taste buds got desperate for a change. Gloriously, one day Jim went to the post office where we had established a mailing address, and brought home a large box, really large.

Ode to Joy! A box! For us? What could be inside and who sent it? We excitedly gathered around the table and with bated breath waited to discover what treasures could possibly be inside. The box was addressed to Jim's mom from his mom, and she sent it fourteen months before its arrival date by boat. Two things I remember clearly that were inside were her girdle and some packages of dried gravy. Shawn (10) and I grabbed the packs and jumped up and down all over the room. We exclaimed, "Brown gravy! Now we can have delicious gravy to go with our plain rice." The lack of variety in our food for 21 days released in us all a deep sense of gratitude for something so basic as a gravy mix! Rice never tasted so good after that!

Loneliness settled in and made itself at home in our family. Times were hard in Congo. Gasoline was hard to come by. We had no car. The missionary families in Kikwit used very conservative measures to make things last, which meant no one offered to pick us up for church, fellow shipping in homes, holding or attending Bible study, or just visiting one another. By now, I was 6 months' pregnant and had actually lost weight. Be that as it may, we all longed to be with other people, and so walking became our mode of transportation despite the heat and pregnancy issues.

The first gathering we attended was a Bible study at an older couple's home. I remember walking up hill and down for what seemed a long time to get there. No children were present. There were no other missionary children in Kikwit the same ages as our kids, but that was not a problem. We were all so homesick that age didn't matter. All we felt that night was the wonder of being with people and the momentary subsiding and dulling of the prickling pain of culture shock. Our children experienced the comfort of men and women who could be their grand parents whom thy missed terribly. We sat together and held hands the whole time.

Missionaries are their own breed of extremely independently thinking, opinionated, survivors. They have to be. Sometimes the mix is like oil and water. I grew to absolutely love two women missionaries in Kikwit. One was a single lady, and the other was married, who could possibly have been my mother. Both had served the Lord for years and years in Congo. They were a marvel to me. Two other servants of the Lord there did no understand my pain. One told me to just snap our of it, and the other's stern way made me want to run out of the room whenever she came around.

Then one day in waltzed a woman to the guest house I can see in my mind's eye as though she is standing before me now. Tall, built like my mother-in-law, well-endowed, hair done up in a bun, wearing a typical missionary flowered dress, black old lady shoes as I used to call them (they tied and had stout heels), no make up, but what a face she had: full of love, chiseled out of a broad spectrum of life I had yet to know, including hardship, joy, sorrow, miraculous acts of survival by God Himself, predicaments that only the Lord could get her out of, wisdom and CONTENTMENT!!! We spent just minutes together, but she made a profound impact on me. She equated the Presence of a Holy God. Immediately sensing my not fitting in, she put her arms around me. Instantly I felt peace. Then she said something I couldn't have disagreed with more. Something so strange and so unlikely unbelievable, and unwanted I shirked inside.

She said, "Congo gets in your blood." Short. Pungent. Ridiculous.

It will never get in my blood, I screamed inside. But it did. . . eventually.

Life continued in Kikwit for the next six weeks. Jim made regular trips to the post office, where at that time we actually received mail. Each time we greatly anticipated his return. Would there be more packages? Yes! One day another box came. This time we found food items that were to die for! Cocoa mix, packaged mac and cheese, canned meats, peanut butter, and goodies we had not tasted in more than a month. Food never tasted so good. The Voths came through once again.

That same night Nicol and I went into the dimly lit kitchen, and our kerosene lantern showed us around. We combined the cocoa mix with powdered milk and sugar and drank in the deliciousness of hot chocolate. It was heavenly. Visitors from the area knocked at our front door. Jim, Shawn, and Todd were not there. I brought the lantern through the living room and for some reason let the strangers in. They sat there with us. We didn't understand a word they said; nor did they understand us, but their concern for us transcended our lingual lacks. Because they knew that in the States we were never without electricity, knew that Jim's mom had died, and knew that Africa was not our homeland, they wanted to comfort us. So we sat in silence and took in their love.

Easter was upon us. It was April, 1979, We all walked to church together and then to a wonderful resurrection celebration. There must have been 20 of us missionaries meeting together. And you know what? One of the items was real potatoes made into potato salad. Oh bliss!

While in Kikwit, Jim was able to visit his mother's gravesite. His father is buried there as well. But they are not next to each other. Both bodies are buried in African soil to be resurrected one glorious day. Both are legends in Congo. Totally sold out, not really counting their lives dear unto themselves, they put their hands to the plow and never looked back. Heroes. Servants of the Most High God. How indebted I am to them for not taking the easy way out, the simpler route, for doing the hard stuff by God's grace. They set the bar high. They inspired. They both finished the race well. Marcella and Laban, I don't know how to thank you. Words aren't enough. You made decisions that changed my life forever!!! I love you.

Next step is moving into the Interior or the Bush of Congo. Kikwit would become a much wanted retreat with paved roads, on again, off again air conditioning, other expatriots, and shops opening up with a little bit of real food in them.

Part II: If i can be a missionary, anyone can!

2010-12-08T20:04:00.004-05:00

Three months after arriving in then Zaire, Africa, we were ready to go on to the mission station of Nkara. Staying with the Voths for almost two months cemented our friendship til today. We love them dearly and, though they would never take any credit for helping our agonizing souls hold on and brace ourselves for what was ahead, the Lord knows how much of a Godsend they were. We so love you, Jody and Lee.

I will back track a little. During the 7 weeks we were privileged to begin the acclimation process to a third-world country in a state of the art home like the Voths were blessed with, we experienced some wonderful times. The first one was to meet other crazies like ourselves who decided to serve God in Africa. There were several MAF families there who to this day hold a special place in our hearts, plus a missionary couple, Jim and Dawn Sawatsky, a peace corp gal at the time by the name of Sharon Kenna, who later would come to live on our mission campus for a year, Wayne and Sylvia Turner, Jim and Sue Comer, Gary and Sharon Wagner (MAF), Bob and Carol Fish (Carol would later be instrumental in saving Shawn's life), and others whose names do not come to mind right now.

Since I felt like we had moved to Mars, I just didn't know if I could cope, and so one day early on, Jody sent me to the home of a couple I cannot for the life of me recall as far as their names are concerned. Their faces are brilliantly clear though. I remember sitting on the couch, asking this missionary wife if I could go in with her on a food shipment from South Africa. All that was available on the shelves in the capital city at that time were flour and tomato paste. The president had pretty much made it clear that x-patriot businessmen were not welcomed in Kinshasa, so limited availability of supplies, such as food and everything else really, made it necessary to order goods from South Africa.

Ah, her name was Jeanie and, after discussing the logistics of sharing an order, I looked at her straight in her eyes and asked, "How do you cope?" Rather surprised by my question, she said, "I beg your pardon?" So I said it again. "How do you cope?" and began crying. She came over on the couch and comforted me. Here was a woman who flight followed her MAF pilot husband everyday, seemed content and even happy to be there, and I was sure she could give me some secrets to how she maintained her sanity. She assured me I could do this. I didn't believe her.

On Wednesday nights the missionary community and whomever else desired rotated attending homes to eat wonderful food I would miss terribly once we went into the Interior, encourage each other by sharing their frustrations, testify of the grace of God in their lives, and pray together. Every Friday morning, Dawn Sawatsky opened up her home to anyone who wanted to pray and seek God's face. I so looked forward to Wednesdays and Fridays; and then on Monday nights, there was Bible study to attend at the Voths, which Jim often led, and Sunday we gathered at the International Church of Kinshasa to worship together. Life became bearable because of people sold out to God willing to share their lives with me. I settled into a pleasant routine, knowing it would come to an end soon enough.

That "end" seemingly came after about 5 weeks when we thought we were ready to leave for Nkara. All our bags were packed, and missing Jody before I even got out the door, I feigned courage to say good bye and climbed into the car that would take us to board an MAF plane and fly to Kikwit for the next stage of our life in Africa, since there was no airstrip at Nkara. Kikwit was 60 miles south of Nkara, and we would fly there first to make arrangements to drive to Nkara. As we pulled out of Voths' driveway, Jody smiled and said, "I won't change the sheets til I hear you have safely landed in Kikwit."

After driving all the way to the MAF hangar, when we passed through the gates, we were told we lacked one document needed to clear passage into the Interior. What? You're kidding, right? No., no one was kidding. Back into the car we climbed and drove back to the Voths. Jody had not changed the sheets. She knew life in Congo all too well.

That night at the supper table, I apologized with embarrassment for having to return to stay with them for a longer time until we were truly ready to leave. Hot tears poured down my cheeks. Then, gently Lee Voth, with a twinkle in his eye said, "Now we will have none of that talk. Obviously, the timing is not right for you to leave us. You are not to be embarrassed or ashamed about staying with us. You are part of our family. God wants you here. We want you here."I will NEVER FORGET THAT MOMENT. His kind words were a balm to my soul. And I began to think how wonderful that we had another chance to live with people I dearly loved for a little while longer.

During the next two weeks, we were given advice by another missionary lady who, along with her husband, served the Lord faithfully for many years in Congo. She told Jim that she really felt strongly about our spending a good amount of time in Kikwit to take more time to adjust to Africa before going to Nkara. How I wish I could see her today and tell her how invaluable that advice proved to be.

So that's what we did. We traveled to Kikwit and ended up staying at the Guest House Jim's dad had practiced dentistry in twice a year for two weeks. He had built an office there, and Jim's mom at one time had run the guest house, which was a haven for travel-worn missionaries. Kikwit was a large town with paved roads, a port city built on the Kwilu River, which could not be traveled any further south because of the rapids of the Kwilu. Hot and humid, we found sleep hard to come by. A national by the name of Solomon was the "cook" there. Simple meals awaited us each day, like burnt toast, a couple of eggs (for 5 people) which we took turns eating, and plain rice, Since we didn't know our way around Kkwit and had no car, we didn't know what other foods were available. We assumed that Kikwit was like Kinshasa, and for a couple of weeks ate these blah meals until one day, when a package arrived that my mother-in-law had sent 14 months earlier by boat.

To be continued. Don't want to wear you out.

December 6, 1978 - If I can do it, anybody can!

2010-12-06T22:33:00.004-05:00

Thirty two years ago today, we boarded a plane and arrived two days later in the country known then as Zaire, now known as the Democratic Republic of Congo, a mammoth country 1/3 the size of the US. Scared, pregnant, and feeling ill-equipped for the mission field, from which I had always run, I sat numb in my seat.

Upon our arrival in Kinshasa I robotically made my way to the door to deplane and walked out into a sauna-like atmosphere. We were on our own. No one was there to greet us. No one even knew we were coming.

"We" consisted of my husband, Jim, born in what was then called the Belgian Congo of great stock: Dr. and Mrs. Laban and Marcella Smith. Laban we were told was the first oral surgeon in the history of the Congo. He lost his first wife to a brain tumor, which threw him into a tailspin of despair while trying to rear their two small children and maintain two dental practices on the East side of Detroit. He met Marcella while attending a small chapel where, after hearing Flossie Knopp preach one day, received Christ as his Savior. Marcella and Laban lived in a beautiful home in Grosse Pointe across the street from Lindberg's mother and not too far from the Dodges and other automobile executives. He had a taste for the finer things of life, but one day he called Marcella from the office and said, "God is calling us to Congo." Marcella had other thoughts. She told Laban he was too zealous, that he should pray more. He did. When she realized his zeal was not going away and that there may be more to it than just hyperenthusiasm, she wrote a mission board in Ohio, applying for approval to go as missionaries to the Congo. As she dropped the letter in the mailbox, she said, "Lord, I've done my part. Now please do yours, and see that this letter gets lost." It didn't, and off they went with two small children to Africa, never looking back. Laban wrote in his diary at the mission station of Kajiji on August 31, 1939, "Lord, I have covenanted for 10,000 of these precious souls. I thank you for the fire you have kindled in my heart, and may it never go out." He yearned to win 10,000 souls to Christ in Congo in exchange for his 10,000 patients in America. He got what he asked for. Jim grew up in the awe and wonder of first hand, pioneer missions.

In addition to Jim and me, we took our three children: Shawn, age 10, Nicol, age 8, and Todd, age 5. We collected our bags at the terminal, and a wave of nausea swelled over me as we made our way to a taxi waiting outside. The drivers of the two taxis our baggage required held up a one hundred dollar bill and said, "We want 3 of these." After negotiating with the men, we were on our way through the garbage and debris-lined streets of the sprawling capital.

We made our way to a place called CAP last visited in 1969 by Jim and I, when we took a trip to Congo to see if the Lord was calling us there. I remember standing at Laban's grave, 4 months' pregnant with Nicol, asking God if Congo was in His plan for us. Inside I prayed that it would never be in His plan. He didn't listen. Jim's missionary "Aunt Renie and Uncle Howard" were running the hotel then, and it was quite appealing. Nine years later it boasted one grey towel, half clean sheets, and hosted cockroaches, lizards, and mosquitos. My nausea intensified.

Diarrhea set in a couple of days later, but we managed to attend The International Church of Kinshasa. Visitors were asked to stand and introduce themselves. Jim did so and explained we were on our way to the Interior or Bush to meet his mother who had preceded us by a month, or so we thought. The next day, Dr. Fountain, a missionary doctor, met Jim on the porch and told him Marcella had died 3 weeks before at Nkara, where we would eventually make our home.

Jim sank in disbelief and the aroma of death was paralyzing. We were perplexed as well by the paperwork needed for us to go up country. Things had changed drastically in just 9 years. We just got there, but the thought of returning to America passed through our minds.

The next day out of seemingly no where, a lady by the name of Jody Voth appeared at our door step. She said, "Get your bags packed. You're coming home with me, and I don't want any arguing." Now, I am a shy person by nature, but I knew God had sent an angel, and so I ran back into the room and started packing.

We went from a non-rated excuse for a hotel to a comfortable, air-conditioned, beautifully furnished embassy home. Oh joy! Jody had heard Jim's testimony, went home and told her husband she sensed the Lord wanted them to take us in, and after he agreed, she came to get us. In my heart of hearts I will always believe that the Voths are the biggest reason we stayed in Congo.

We lived with them for 7 weeks, after which we made our way to Kikwit (a town of 700,000 people at thst time) after all our paper work was in order, staying there 6 weeks, and then into the bush at the mission station of Nkara. I dealt with all kinds of emotions depending on my hormonal level from Dec 6 to early March when we arrived at Nkara, but was sure once we got there, the will of God would fit like a glove. Not!

There is so much more to the story. Come back tomorrow for more. This is enough for one setting.

Dear Kilundu

2010-10-11T06:00:00.000-04:00

His condition is terminal, diagnosed with widespread liver and pancreatic cancer in June, we count every day he lives a blessing. As he taught Romans 14, his once crisply ironed shirt became drenched with perspiration. Power and peace permeated the atmosphere as he calmly admonished the other students who are filled with grief at the prospect of losing him. Strikingly evident was his recent dramatic weight loss and gaunt facial features. He spoke of Paul's urging to welcome the weaker brother and be careful not to crush him with criticism. In addition, he warned the young men to avoid all appearance of evil in their ministry so that they do not become stumbling blocks. He holds us all in the palm of His hand and we praise God for his wise, gentle counsel, shrouded in authority and transparency with which he has lived his life on earth.

Jim and I have a long history with Kilundu. In 1984, when a reprobate pastor was threatening to cut off the heads of some of our pastors, ravishing young ladies attending the high school on the mission, and robbing the teachers of their hard-earned salaries, plus keeping all tuition for himself, it was Kilundu who headed up all-night prayer meetings to get him out of here. He constantly challenged us to hold on, hang on, be strong, and be courageous because God will deliver us! And avenge He did!

As he stood before us, scenes of those long-ago days played through my mind. I was bawling inside as I thought of living life here in Congo without Pastor Kilundu. Once he enters the gates of glory, he would never choose to come back, but his ways, his personality, his sterling character, his big smile, and his wise counsel will leave a huge hole in our hearts.

He said, "The reason I am alive to today and able to preach in this seminar is because of my children's and wife's prayers. If you could hear the way my little boy begs God for my life every time he prays, big tears would fall down your cheeks"

Thank you, Kilundu, for the wealth of knowing you.

The riches we share because we were permitted to rub shoulders with you in this life, the enjoyment of meeting with you around our table, the challenges of organizing yearly reunions with you, the fun of laughing at ourselves with you, the moving experience of praying with you, the thrill of hearing you expound God's Word, and the gratification of fighting the good fight with you.

We love you.

A Seminar Enrollment

2010-10-09T13:46:00.002-04:00

There he stands, Pastor Ndombe, in his tall, thin frame and hollow-cheeked face with a somewhat recently shaved head and tufts of white hair lecturing on Romans 15 - the way we should live with our Christian brothers. He spoke with humor, authority, and distinction, qualities he has acquired after teaching at LBI for more than 20 years. His gentle spirit honed by suffering one trial after another developed Ndombe's quiet personality. Warm laughter from the students filled the air. I laughed, too, at his illustrations, while trying to keep back the tears at the same time.

My mind's eye sees him in his youth when he came to enroll as a bible school student in the 80s. He came in humility and has stayed humble and grateful till this day in spite of a fire that destroyed his home and his entire precious library, chronic illness which has wreaked havoc on his wife's quality of life, the near death of his teenage daughter as he biked 65 miles to the nearest hospital, not to mention financial hardship. He remarked that when he came to attend LBI, now looking back, he doesn't really know if he was born again, and then turned toward another professor and asked him if that were true. Pastor Kapem readily agreed. Ndombe continued, "I was young and thought my life was under my own control." An hour and a half spent under his teaching was so worth it - a refreshing, cooling spring that washed over my soul.

What a source of comfort and joy after months of dealing with difficult staff issues that nearly broke our hearts. On the matter of gratitude - challenging the students of the need to thank God every time they pray for:

1) What you do have. Don't complain about what you don't have. Don't complain to God if you don't have a car - you may never have one.

2) Salvation. You could be on your way to hell, which we all deserve.

3) Life. You did nothing to keep yourself alive while you slept. We all sleep like dead men. Only God can wake us up.

And then he challenged the students to be generous.

"As a pastor, you have this obligation to help your sick brother even if you only have a dollar in your pocket. Don't just preach the Word of God to him."

Pastor Ndombe, I am so honored to call you my friend, my colleague in ministry, my brother and my teacher. You continue to enlarge my heart and my mind. Today I delight in the fact that God delights in you.

To Think That...

2010-10-08T06:00:00.001-04:00

To Think That...

...the man standing before me, who is teaching the book of Romans in depth, is the grandson of a cannibal.

...the vocabulary of those olden days, once centered in the base, vile plot of eating human flesh, is now a glorious expression of redemption, imputation, sanctification, predestination, glorification, and on and on as outlined by Paul in Romans.

...the darkness of slavery to the bewitching sins of his forefathers has been replaced with the light and power of the glorious gospel of Jesus Christ thus bringing him to walk with God.

...the droning, repetitive chants which characterized their vocals, offered up to the spirits of their ancestors' approval, is now given over to, "There Is Power in the Blood" and "How Great Thou Art."

...their foolish, darkened minds and hearts surrendered to serving Satan are now surrendered to the high calling of studying and pursuing Jesus Christ through His eternal Word.

...they have gone to wearing loincloths, steeped in miry clay and ignorance, to being fully clothed and in their right minds.

I am astounded, Lord, at how far You have brought them. To this broad place and level ground You prepare for those who love You.

Comment on Philippians 3:10

2010-10-06T12:30:00.002-04:00

"I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death."

Philippians 3:10

I was profoundly affected by this commentary on the above verse:

Many Christians are satisfied with expenditure in which there is no shedding of blood. They give away what they can easily spare. Their gifts are detached things and the surrender of them necessitates no bleeding. They engage in sacrifice as long as it does not involve life; when the really vital is demanded, they are not to be found. They are prominent at all triumphant entries and they willingly spend a little money on colorful decorations - on banners and palm branches - but when HURRAHS and HOSANNAS change into ominous murmurs and threats, and Calvary comes into sight, they steal away into safe seclusion. But here is an apostle who joyfully anticipates this supreme and critical demand. He is almost impatient at his own dribblings of blood-energy in the service of the kingdom! He is eager, if need be, to pace it out.

"The Lord Jesus became fruitful not by bearing His cross only but by dying on it..."

There are not two Christs - an easygoing Christ for easygoing Christians and the suffering, toiling Christ for exceptional believers. There is only one Christ.

2010-09-24T01:06:00.001-04:00

Well, after a long and wearisome day of transit, to say the least, I
have reached my long awaited destination of Kinshasa. I’ve been
thoroughly enjoying my first couple days here and spending time with
the Smiths (they are some genuine, quality people - if you didn’t
already know). But, I would like to share a bit about my transit
experience here, and just how explicit the Lord’s guidance and care
was made evident during this stressful period.

I am simply going to copy my journal entry that was written on the
plane after running the gauntlet of Kenyan Airlines check-in services
(my hope is that while reading, you’ll be able to experience the
emotions as I did at that particular time). I’ll preface this
fragmented entry by bring the reader up to speed on where it begins.
I had arrived at the Kenyan Airport at 5:30 a.m. locale time; I had
been up all night was running on fumes. The plane to Kinshasa was
scheduled to depart at 8:20 a.m. so this entry will begin as I enter
the check-in queue at around 7:30… enjoy

September 20, 2010:

… The check-in employee looked at my Congo visa and asked if there was
another (the entire visa stamp is in French, so neither of us can read
it). “- 2-“ (as listed) was really the only thing that could be
deciphered and she claim that meant it was valid until 2 months after
the issue date (which is “07/06/10”). I interjected and exclaimed
that the “- 2 -“ listed meant that I’m valid to stay for 2 months upon
my arrival (which is the true meaning). She then asked me to step
aside and wait for a French speaker that could come to the check–in
counter and interpret. So I waited… 8…. 8:15… 8:20 and its now the
scheduled departure time and we’re confined to the stagnant state of
waiting; while my nerves are doing just the contrary – intensifying
exponentially with each passing moment (only 10 others left to
check-in). I got the attention of another worker… and another… (no
help) and finally resorted to cutting in-line and talked with the
original lady proclaiming “the flight is leaving now! Can we please
resolve this issue and let me pass!” This was met with her simply
telling me to casually step aside once more and wait for the French
speaker. Another 5 minutes, only 4-5 people left in line - he finally
shows up and reads the visa. It translated that the validity is 3
months after the issue date… this is an improvement but the issue date
is listed as “07/06/10” (thats dd/mm/yy). So June 7, the 3 months is
up, the visa is expired, “I’m sorry sir, we cannot let you board this
aircraft”… as the final 3 people pass me in line and they are in the
final stages before closing the doors. “Sir, there is absolutely no
possible way you can make it to Kinshasa today.” (next flight was 5
days later)

Confused and anxious, I’m alone and the plane is leaving and I’m stuck
in Nairobi. I’m stressed to the point of near tears, my mind is
racing… “What’s going to happen with the Smiths meeting me Kinshasa?…
What about my checked bag that’s currently on the plane?… What about
the MAF flight schedule for tomorrow morning at 6 a.m.?… Will I be
here for a week to adhere to the ‘arrive on a Monday only’ policy of
the Smith’s?” My head and spirit sink to an inexperienced before low,
I’m praying like crazy for what to do next, why was this in God’s
plan?

Its 8:40, and I’m pleading for anyone that will listen… “is there any
way that I can make it to the Congo today”… “No sir, I’m sorry”. So
my next move is to attempt to retrieve my bag (providing it’s not on
the plane) clear the Kenyan customs, and head into Nairobi and locate
the DRC embassy. The final passengers are being permitted aboard, and
I’m searching for a phone in the airport to inform Smiths of my
situation, and preparing for an awful day (supplement to the fact of
being up all night) of wandering the streets of Nairobi. The French
speaker had left, and the gate was shutting down, its 8:45. But this
is when an idea hit me, I figured it would never work, but hey, it’s
worth a try and I’m pretty desperate. Now it certainly involved a lot
of improvisation but, what the heck, I’m good at that. I rose from
my stooped, depressed posture, and demanded the attention of the
original lady. With augmented energy, I’m proclaiming “I’ve got
it!!!” – she’s shaking her head “no” before I even explain, saying
“they are very strict in the DRC, I’m sorry”. Here I am pointing at
the issue date (07/06/10) saying “NO!….NO!… in the U.S.A. we write
month, day, year, ITS JULY 6th!! I have till October 6th!!!”(not
really). She brushed it off condescendingly, the doors have been
sealed to the entry tunnel, and the x-ray machine is being shut down.
I’m franticly announcing, “look at my watch, its 9-20!!!... think
about September 11th, we always say ‘9/11’… That’s how we do it,
PLEASE!!!” She continued shaking her head, my efforts appeared to be
futile. Tingled with flowing adrenalin, I realize it wasn’t going to
work ---

But then this next part I believe to be nothing other than divine
intervention. As I’m accepting my current fate, a distinguished Kenyan
lady, about 55, was walking past the gate and steps over hearing our
blabbering. She overheard what we were saying and, could you believe,
is standing there agreeing with me!!! And then, this is amazing, she
says “just think about 9/11… they mean September 11th…” WOW, hahaha,
I’m in disbelief. I don’t suppose anything would have happened if it
wasn’t for this passing lady. I’m at full attention, just lingering
for the next word from the lady’s mouth, and then she very reluctantly
and apprehensively, rolls her eyes, and hands me a boarding pass….
Saying “sir, you need to run”

HALLELUIAH!! I’m so excited right now!! I passed security in record
time and like Seabiscuit going for the triple crown, I’m sprinting
down though the vacant waiting area and slamming through the “do not
open” doors that lead to the boarding tunnel. Full speed for the
plane, some goofy incredulous smile on my face, “I’m can’t believe it
worked!” Just as I’m reaching the end, I’m greeted with a protective
safety chain, and a 10 foot drop off… NO PLANE!!!! Sinking emotions
are making an unexpected and unwelcomed counterattack. I’m wired, it’s
time to take matters into my own hands. I ran through “employees
only” exit door that has stairs leading to the tarmac… I’m racing
across towards the nearest plane robustly screaming “WAIT!!!!” The
ground crew is puzzled, but they soon realize my dilemma. The stairs
are brought over to the plane, a knock and the door opens, and I’m
flashing my recently acquired boarding pass to the flight attendant –
They shut the door right behind me.

So I’m currently writing this journal entry in seat 12F heading for
Kinshasa, huge smile on my face, in disbelief that this worked, my
head going 1,000 mph. But I’m currently thinking, if this worked in
Kenya is there a possibility of it also working in the DRC. But is
certainly expired, and here I am. I’m almost in tears of joy right
now, God answers prayers!!

Let’s hope I don’t get deported…

Wild, huh??? I had no problems in the DRC, I handed them my
passport, yet they stamped me in and I was on my way to baggage claim.
I’ve made it, thankful and grateful for this opportunity. I’ve
witnessed how God has unambiguously taken control of a difficult
situation. Thank you all for reading and your support. Please keep
praying for the Laban ministry and our remaining time in Nkara, it is
very much appreciated. – Daniel Monroe

Hair-raising departure, by Daniel Monroe

2010-09-22T04:43:00.002-04:00

Daniel Monroe, a recent graduated of Taylor University, is viting us for a month at our mission campus of Nkara in the bush. Look for his post on what all was involved in his actually arriving in Kinshasa, that--had it not been for his courage and determination and the blessing of God--would never had taken place! Stay tuned.

Hope Deferred - Hope Fulfilled

2010-09-22T04:01:00.003-04:00

Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire is fulfilled, it is a tree of life. Prov 13:12

August 31 was the date scheduled for the MAF plane to pick up our pastors and evangelists, including Jim, here at Nkara. Heavy fog at Kikongo and Vanga (the first stop after takeoff in Kinshasa and the refuel at Vanga respectively) prevented that first day of the Ilebo crusade from occurring.

Hope was temporarily squelched and deferred, but quickly the Lord opened another window of opportunity to go there on September 10. Totally opposite of the severe tropical storms of August 31 and lightning, which struck two of our broadcasting pastors at Radio Glory, we woke up to a sunshiny day with blue skies and scattered clouds. Everyone agreed this was a day of blessing the Lord Himself sent us to show that His timing is perfect.

Since most of the baggage, equipment, and accessories necessary of the trip had been previously packed and secured in the building we call the White House, we were more than ready for the 11 a.m. arrival of MAF.

The crew loaded up our old x-military truck, and Pastor Yanduku gave us the signal to make our way up aerobic hill and onto our 3400' long bush airstrip. Bodies plus "bima" or things totalled 1,050 kg, not pounds, so that means just over 1 ton. Because of Rod's (MAF pilot) eye for packing and his patience, everything found its place 40 minutes after he landed.

Out of the team going only two had been on an airplane ever, but no little plastic "emesis" bags were needed.

Greeted warmly by crowds of people, including goverment officials, they made their way over bumpy, sandy roads to the location of the crusade after a 45-minute flight which would have taken up to 5 days by truck and canoe. The Word of God was preached in several areas in the next week, including the military center.

Jim said on Monday night, people in the audience were so eager to accept Christ, that they literally ran forward so as not to miss out on the opportunity. Steeped in witchcraft, idolatry, demonism, the occult, and worship of the waters, the sun, goat manure placed under their beds to bring good fortune to them, these people, left to themselves, are chained to the slavery of sin so captivating and entrenching, that only the power of the Gospel of Christ can free them.

Much prayer, fasting, heart preparation and searching, plus seeking the face of God took place long before the crusade began.

Each morning at 5 a.m., the staff rose for prayer and Bible study. Local church pastors joined in, and then seekers came inquiring, searching, pleading for answers, as they waited for the daily music fest to begin at 3 p.m. About 5, the preaching and Bible teaching started, which could easily go for an hour or two, followed by a group invitation, one-on-one counseling, sometimes the Explosion Program, and then wrapping up to get ready to show either the Jesus Film or The Passion.

The last day there Jim and Pastor Mboma interviewed a former "hit" man who selectively killed people while he himself was dressed in African garb, doped up strongly with drugs and seeking help from demons. Jim asked him what it felt like to be about ready to kill someone. He said he felt nothing because he was so full of whatever it was that he took, he had only one thing on his mind--to deliver his target into the hands of the man would pay him to do his "job."

All in all, the trip which cost thousands of dollars, was so worth it. A total of 1,570 raised their hands and came forward to indicate their desire to accept Christ. So, what is that per head? How do you put a price tag on salvation?

Speaking God's Word into their lives was a tremendous source of encouragement to the local Christians, and breathed new life into the souls of those who ministered. God's Word NEVER returns void, and if all of those 1570 meant what they said and did, then that 1570 less souls satan can claim for his as he is permanently expelled into the Lake of Fire.

With tears in their eyes and hearts full of sorrow at their leaving, people bid Jim and the team good bye, begging them to return soon. Going to Ilebo is a major undertaking, so it is not likely to happen in the near future, but God forbid that we fail to pray for them in their new-found faith.

Lightning, Ilebo Delayed, New Birth

2010-09-02T11:03:00.004-04:00

From May 15-August 31st, very little rain fell at Nkara. Thirst-laden soil stopped producing greens, peanuts, pineapple, and papaya. Harvesting came to a screeching halt. This typifies the dry season in Congo. However, this year, it was particularly dry. Some have asked, "Is God punishing us?" The effort of prayer was redoubled as we saw the heat index soar day after day, followed by the stagnation and lack of relief caused by no rainfall.

August 30th was another hot and dry day. Then, the next morning, at 5:00 am, sound of distant thunder woke us; breezes turned into high, cooling winds, and the welcome sound of rain drops on the tin roof brought a feeling of refreshment and gratitude.

August 31st was a long-awaited day. That day our evangelism team would leave for Ilebo to hold a 10 day crusade in that port city which is spiritually dead. Prayers to the great waters of the Kasai and the Sunkuru, ancestral worship, and the idolatry of evil spirits and waste products under the bed (such as goat manure) have the population chained in darkness and terror.

So desiring to be a part of the freeing of their imprisonment by the power of the Holy Spirit, we had reached a "high" of anticipation, eager to see what marvelous breakthroughs the Lord would accomplish. About 15 minutes after the rain started, a roar of thunder was followed by an enormous boom and startling crash of lightning. We turned the radio on to see if Radio Glory was announcing...just static. As the sun rose, immense fog so hit the station you could cut it with a knife, blanketed the atmosphere.

We would learn later on in the day that Pastors Kasongo and Hosea were struck by that lightning boom, knocking Hosea to the ground in the studio, and burning Pastor Kasongo on both shoulders, which caused smoke to rise from his shirt and come out of his mouth. About 7 am, a new chubby baby girl (10 pounds!) was born to one of our professors at the Women's Literacy Center. As we looked down into her round, chunky-cheeked face, I wondered what her future would hold and prayed for her and her parents.

Ilebo disappated like the fog because the MAF plane was grounded at Kikongo and could not take off for Vanga where it would be refueled in order to come to Nkara to pick up the team. Eventually the fog cleared, but it was too late in the day for MAF to come to Nkara. You cannot get to Ilebo by truck, as it is up to a five day journey at the end of a long treacherous ride on the Kasai River. You need a large motored canoe.

Why of all days did the rain come after 45 days of no rainfall whatsoever on the very day set aside for Ilebo - a crusade planned for months and months? The Lord's ways are so far above ours. We are not going to waste our time trying to figure out why these events took place. But when such things occur, along with everything else that is happening out here, it causes us to look inward and ask, "Lord, we know You are speaking. Please tell us what are You saying?"

Thankfully, we are on the docket once again with MAF for Ilebo for September 10. Please, please pray. If Satan can hinder the apostle Paul, he can hinder us as well. We remember John's words, "Greater is He who is in You than he that is in the world." In the meantime, we marvel at and revel in the fact that the Lord, in His mercy, spared the lives of two special men on our staff. Radio Glory, praise the Lord, is just delayed in coming on. Please pray that we will be able to solve this problem as Jim Hulse just went back to the States.

Pray for Ilebo Trip

2010-08-30T10:16:00.002-04:00

Tomorrow - Ilebo. In its day, Ilebo was a prestigious town which spread the red carpet for King Albert of Belgium in the early 1920s. Today it is not heard of much. One of the Laban Bible Institute graduates has been pastoring there for about five years. After he walked, rode a commercial truck, and hired a boat, and walked all the way to Nkara last year to plead for our team to evangelize there, we decided to comply. His journey took five days one way. Much prayer has gone into this outreach and we don't want to stop praying now.

Tomorrow, Jim and seven other pastors fly to Ilebo on the Mission Aviation Fellowship plane and meet up with two other men who have gone on ahead to arrange for everyone's coming. Protocol requires that the village chiefs are consulted first and arrangements for the team made well in advance, including decided where the actual preaching will take place, where the tents will be pitched, where placement of all the equipment should be, etc.

Ilebo is located in the Kasai Province of Congo. We are located in the Bandundu Province. Through phone contact with the 2 pastors that have gone ahead we have learned that food prices are about the same as are gasoline and diesel fuel. Three sections of Ilebo will be evangelized, which is pretty much the whole town of at least 200,000 people. Pastor Kebembo tells us that scores of people are already waiting in anticipation of the King's arrival. Jim has to take his passport and money has been set aside for food, diesel fuel to give to rented trucks to travel to the other 2 sections of Ilebo, gasoline for the 2 generators so that the musicians can be heard and so the Jesus film and The Passion can be viewed. Approximately one ton of men and equipment will be flown to Ilebo.

Please pray for safety, for souls, for understanding of the Word of God as it is taught verse by verse. For order, for the defeat of Satan, and for good health and no injuries for the team members. Pray for protection and for deliverance from evil spirits and witchcraft. Please pray that the money Jim is taking will be enough. Prices can change here daily with no advanced warning.

"Behold the Lord's hand is not short at all that it cannot save nor His ear dull with deafness that it cannot hear." Isaiah 59:1

God has given us the great privilege and sobering responsibility of saying to those who are bound, "Come forth" and to those who are in spiritual darkness, "Show yourselves come into the light of the sun of righteousness."

A Great Light

2010-08-27T06:00:00.000-04:00

"And I will bring the blind by a way that they know not. I will lead them in paths that they have not known. I will make darkness into light before them and make uneven places into a plain. These things I have determined to do for them and I will not leave them forsaken." Isaiah 42:16

In Congo, when the moon is only partially visible, the darkness is so deep and thick, you cannot see your hand in front of your face. Every night, dusk settles in about 5:30 pm and, within an hour, that which was dimly visible, is no longer in sight. From approximately 6:30 pm to 5:30 am, a dark blanket covers Congo until the rising sun releases the bright light of day.

The dawning of day shows the clarity of the path that was hidden in the dark of night. Those crooked places we couldn't see, places perhaps laden with unknown danger, such as snakes, rough terrain, cliffs, and ditches. The light of day tells us what dangers are lurking. So with the Word of God.

Jim couldn't believe the spiritual ignorance at the village of Pangu-Idiofa, just outside of the Bayanzi territory. These people are known as the Babundas and speak Kibunda, their mother tongue. They also speak the trade language of Kituba, which is the language we speak. Our evangelism team left Friday afternoon in the old military truck filled with instruments, musicians, preachers, food for the three day crusade and great anticipation of a weekend filled with teaching the Word of God.

Ignorance of the Bible was very apparent as the preaching began, but God's Word is light. It is more powerful than a two-edged sword, piercing to the dividing asunder of soul and spirit and is the discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart. Praise God and hallelujah, for as Scripture was divided for hours at a time- Friday evening, Saturday morning, noon, and evening and Sunday morning, noon and into the evening again, facial expressions changed. They came alive. As the light entered and shone on their souls, it was as if the people were resurrected from the dead. Ninety-seven stepped forward to leave the vacuum of darkness.

So Lord, Your gospel is powerful to work deliverance from death.

"For once you were darkness, but now you are light in the Lord." Ephesians 5:8

"And you who made alive when you were dead, slain by your trespasses and sin." Ephesians 2:1

O giver of life and light, we bow before You in total amazement, for Your resurrection power, which now makes them heirs and joint-heirs with Christ. Amen and amen.

A New Day

2010-08-25T10:48:00.002-04:00

Congo was considered a hardship post by the American Embassy for years. The longest term allowed by the US government for its American employees, hired stateside serving here, was four years when we arrived in Africa in 1978. If the US Embassy considers it a difficult post, even after providing their staff with a beautiful home, appointed with lovely amenities, plus a commissary stocked with all sorts of American groceries, including tasty delicacies, imagine what hardships the average villager lives with daily. The hardship of not only no running water, but no availability to clean water in close proximity to their mud/stick huts. Exposure to the elements- including tropical temperatures, torrid rains, high humidity, mosquito-infected living conditions, nutrient-deprived soil that produces next to nothing during the months of June, July, and August because of lack of rainfall. Up to a two-day walk to the nearest hospital, cooking over an open fire instead of a fast-cooking stove. Going to the bathroom in a standing position over an open hole, surrounded by dirt enclosed by a stick fence. Tending gardens almost daily, which to begin with, were covered with brush and scrub trees removed by their husbands, the planting of which in some cases, requires a 3 year waiting period before harvest.

So...many women do not finish high school at all. The child of privilege in the family in Congo is the male. If anyone has to sacrifice their education, it is the woman. She is needed to help bear her mother's burdensome life.

Therefore, not only is the woman's role in Congo oftentimes similar to a work horse of the land, but she is inprisoned in the chains of ignorance, darkness, and despair, and unable to escape to the world of reading and writing. The focus becomes her imprisonment. Her darkened mind longs to be freed of the heaviness she faces daily, but who will deliver her?

Thus the reason for L'Ecole du Femme (the Women's Lit Center) we started on the mission campus in 2004. Because many villages are begging for the same opportunity the women of Nkara-Ewa are experiencing, we started a 12 week summer reading school at the village of Mbila. In my eyes, it is a plan of simplicity we are bringing them. We go 3 days a week, offer those who cannot read at all the alphabet, while those who can read, math. Plus an introduction outline and verse by verse study of Philippians.

After our first session, the 74 women gathered outside to enjoy dessert. Dessert was "The Art of Knitting." Knitting? Dessert? To them it was delicious. The act of study, combined with the joy of learning a fun skill like knitting brought laughter and delight. Their tenacity paid off and smiles flashed as they successfully completed their first lesson.

The reality of Psalm 3:3 of would-be slaves:

"You, LORD, are a shield for them, their glory, and the lifter of their heads."

A Four Month Long Funeral

2010-08-09T06:00:00.000-04:00

You don't know what is missing until it is missing. For the last six years, for miles and miles around, a potential audience of 8 million people have eagerly looked forward to hearing daily broadcasts on Radio Glory. Most of these six years, Radio Glory has broadcasted on a regular basis. However, this spring, something went wrong and the comforting voice of their "mama", as Radio Glory is known, was stilled.

Oh, how they began to miss her soothing words each morning and evening, the wise counsel, her inspiring music, her eye-opening teaching of the Scriptures, her announcements informing them of deaths, conferences, school openings, special exams, evangelism. Her loving words of encouragement and admonition and her faith-building messages were deeply missed. They had no idea they would miss their "mama" so much.

Someone told me, "Radio Glory's absence is like when our parents go away for a long time and leave us and we long to see them again. Then, one day in the distance, we view their silhouettes. And we run with open arms to embrace them once again."

Another said, "It's like Radio Glory died and we have been at the funeral for four months. She has been resurrected from the dead."

Thank you, Jim Hulse, for bringing her back to life. Thank you, Jesus, for showing Jim Hulse how to restore this amazing power plant here in the middle of the wilderness. We bow before You and life Your name high!

P.S. Yesterday, my husband Jim and fifteen others went to preach at the town of Mubeya- Musai, in particular the police force has been begging Laban to come and minister to them. Out of a large crowd, 36 men made professions of faith in Jesus Christ. They said, "We knew nothing about this. We have never heard anything like this before."

The trip took 8 hours because of the interest that five of those hours were spent explaining the Scriptures and dealing with them one-on-one. As they were pulling out, the police captain, begged-literally begged-Jim, with pleading eyes told Jim, "Please don't forget us. We must see the Laban team every month to feed us the words of God. We are starving spiritually." Hallelujah for the cross!

Gates of Bronze and Bars of Iron

2010-08-07T06:00:00.002-04:00

These past 12 days, we have seen God make good on this promise found in Isaiah. Let me list the ways:

1) Jim Hulse, founder and director of Towers for Jesus, at the ticket counter in the US before departing for Congo, had to call a supervisor after a forty-five minute discussion in South Bend, IN airport to get his bags checked all the way through to Kinshasa. The airport only wanted to check them through to South Africa, where he would have had to recheck them and pay again.

2) They refused his passage out to board the airplane because they said the visa in his passport was messy and in a language they couldn't read. It was in French (duh!).

3) South African airlines claimed one of his bags which contained all of his clothes and the vital power supply needed to repair the transmitter enabling us to broadcast at full power.

4) Before discovering that the radio exciter voltage had been changed to a different voltage, he pulled it into the wall and it exploded in his face. He was not hurt.

Then God sent a little humor:

5) While turning on the air conditioner in his bedroom in the nearby home we call the white house, he stood directly in front of the A/C and was blasted by a shower of bugs that had long since died way back in 2005.

Praises:

1) "Mama" has returned. This is what Radio Glory is called by the Congolese. We are back to broadcasting after four months of silence.

2) All of the radio equipment in the studio has been repaired and serviced and we are back to full power.

3) After climbing the 300 foot radio tower twice, Jim Hulse also came down 300 feet uninjured!

4) Recent local evangelism the past two weekends resulted in almost 300 people raising their hands to accept Christ.

5) We made payroll for the month of June! Yippee!!

6) Jim Hulse returned to his home after shutting the generator off just outside his door, only to step on a three and a half foot snake in the dark. Amazingly, he was not bitten! In fact, he thinks it's cool because now he has another great story to tell.

Lord you are our chosen and assigned portion, our cup. You hold and maintain our lot. Psalm 16:5

A Scorpion in the House

2010-08-03T12:09:00.004-04:00

A few weeks ago two 17 year old girls, who live in Kinshasa, came to Nkara to spend some time with us. There are always concerns with visitors coming to the bush, especially someone else's child you have never even met. I prayed fervently for God's protective hand to evidence itself, something like this:

Lord, you know Nadia's parents are entrusting their only child to us. Please hover over her and Suzanne the seven days they will be at Nkara.

At the end of each activity-filled day, I thanked the Lord we made it through without a hitch. There was a wide range of events in which the girls eagerly participated: giving their testimonies to the work staff in chapel, testifying at the Women's Literacy Center at Nkara, as well as to the women of the village of Mbila where we will hold our first satellite reading school this August, September, and October. Every day they swam in the lake, which was a beautiful way to end the afternoon. No accidents there; no drownings, thank the Lord.

Ngwadi-Ngwadi welcomed them as they visited with and spoke to grade school-aged children. Nadia shared her father's humble beginnings as a local villagers who decided to live for God and his life of honesty, his educational background, and his hard work that had paid off. He is now CEO of a large oil distribution company, SEP, in Kinshasa.

Both girls participated in our graduation services. Nadia challenged the new graduate pastors to look after the teenagers in their churches and charged them to live for God, while Suzanne sang the national anthem of Congo. The people went crazy! They loved it. Their work with us was topped off with a trip to Bulungu, the local government seat. They testified to the police wives, as well as the policeman, in the crowded gov't center there, bursting at its seams with population of 904,000. The six hour drive there and back was without incident and prayers for protection rose up again for us all as we crossed the crocodile and hippo-infested waters of the Kwilu River in a large canoe. Eight or nine of us at a time crossed the river. The rapid current could have swept us away had it not been for the skilled oarsmen who paddled us across and back.

So when we were approaching the end of our visit at Nkara, it looked as if all that had begun so well would also end well until...

an unwelcome visitor made his way to the bathroom and decided to climb into the tub.

Nadia was washing her feet when she felt a crawling sensation on the outer side of her right foot. What did appear to her wondering eyes but a three-inch long scorpion, who can inflict such pain that when Jim's older brother was bitten by one years ago, he wanted their father to cut off his big toe. Nadia jumped out of the tub and after I calmly screamed for Jim, he stomped and killed the scorpion with my flip flop.

The mighty hand of God stopped the scorpion from inflicting his pain-filled wound and once we were all on the plane to return to Kinshasa, I breathed a final sigh of relief in incredible gratitude for deliverance from evil and harm for these special girls who were such a blessing to us and our people.

MAF - Unsung Heroes of Congo

2010-07-28T13:01:00.002-04:00

Today my husband, Jim, along with director and founder of Towers for Jesus, Jim Hulse, and I traversed miles and miles of rugged plains, steep valleys, savannahs, jungles, paved roads, and steep hills in a matter of one hour and 20 minutes. Amazing, isn't it? This is possible because of an organization called MAF: Mission Aviation Fellowship. In years past, we drove the trek from Kinshasa to Nkara or Nkara to Kin in either our 1957 army truck (in 1980) or our Chevy blazer taking 24 hours or 15 hours respectively. But today, Rod, our pilot got us there in no time.

Sensational as it sounds, it is lots of hard work for this pilot. He, on most flight days, gets up at the crack of dawn, drives the MAF van to homes of passengers, loads the van with all accompanying freight, only to unload and reload the freight into the beautiful 9 passenger Caravan before takeoff. This is back-breaking effort. Did I mention that he also drove us all the way to the airport? The passion for flying is a driving force, I am sure, but even greater must be his passion for Christ. The country of Congo is no piece of cake in which to serve the Lord. So the call of God on Rod's life has to be strong and his hunger and thirst to see souls saved here is a much more intense driving force.

Over the years, we have met and grown to love many MAF families. They are the cream of the crop, unsung heroes, valiant men and women fighting the good fight. We so miss our good friends the Carlsons who have moved from Kinshasa to Lumbumbashi, far south from here. The Frances gave us our home for a whole week while they were on vacation. Rod and Val continue to show us their hospitality when we are in town and are planning a visit to Nkara soon as well as Brian and Esther. Brian is an MAF mechanic who keeps these planes running smoothly. Where would we be without them? Location-wise, maybe we would be stuck on some 2 lane highway or a dirt path somewhere in the bush. Who knows?

Jim and I and a host of other missionaries, nationals, government officials, dignitaries, business people, and everyone else who depends on your services, are so grateful for you, MAF. And today in particular, for you, Rod, and all you do in your service for Him.

Just the Basics

2010-07-24T16:56:00.005-04:00

At our bush mission campus, we have a dispensary. Last October, Pastor Kilasi joined the team and has made a tremendous difference because he is a certified lab tech. So now people can actually be diagnosed with malaria, typhoid, Aids, anemia, worms (which kind as well), malnutrition, diabetes, and other conditions.

Marvina, our midwife delivers more babies in our county than anyone else. But she works in deplorable conditions. There is so much that needs to be done to the place. One very basic need has been mattresses covered with dark plastic made larger than a twin bed so that the mamas who give birth and continue to bleed can lie comfortably on surfaces that can be washed easily and kept clean.

450 miles away in Kinshasa, I finally found a place where these odd-sized mattresses can be ordered and custom made. And the only reason we found the place was because Pastor Kanzila who pastors a church in the city suggested we take a look. There they were, simple sponges of any and every size and plastic coverings of dark brown that can be made to fit any size bed you need.

So we will order three this week and pay the grand total of $175, have them trucked up to Kikwit, where our truck will pick them up, and deliver them to Nkara to be placed on the new wooden bed frames. Such a simple improvememt will bring great comfort to many women who will bear children there the remainder of the year.

There is one huge need we still have. We continue to lose mamas and their babies from inadequate medical care. One of our orphans, Mavanga, a good former friend of our son Jack (former, simply because they have not seen each other in years), has two years of medical training left before he becomes a doctor. The fact of the matter is, we just can't wait that long before we start saving women's lives.

The former doctor at the nearby state clinnic has lost 26 women in 4 years to C sections. We are told he performed the operations with a razor blade. A new doctor has arrived who is now working at the state "hospital", and asked to talk to us. He probably wants a job with Laban Ministries because the state does not pay him enough to live on, and he is supposed to provide for everyone's needs with little or next to nothing as far as meds, supplies, and equipment. We are seriously praying about whether or not to even consider taking him on.

It may seem like such an uncomplicated decision to make, but Laban already has 82 employees and struggles to keep their pay checks current. However, 500 people are dying each month in our neck of the woods, many of whom are from complications of pregnancy due to the need of a C section. The nearest hospital is a 2 day walk. How do we continue to allow these women to die before our eyes? If we have a hard time now keeping up with salaries, how do we take on a doctor and his family?

Only God knows the answer. We trust He will give us grace either way He leads, but He must lead. We cannot make this decision on our own.

But for today, we are happy to have found these basic provisions for women who deserve so much more.

Thoughts on Graduation at Iwungu

2010-07-16T14:38:00.003-04:00

These are several of my observations at graduation on Sunday, July 11th, at the mission station of Iwungu:

* A cross carried by a chorale made out of wood, with sardine cans at the bottom. The sides were red and green with a green soda can at the top. Necessity is the mother of invention. There is no pretense here; they work with what they have.

* "Mu menga ya Yesu" (the blood of Jesus) wafting through the air.

* The singing of "There's Power in the Blood" reminds me of Laban and Marcella and their incredible legacy on this area of the Babunda tribe, which brings tears to my eyes. Though many have been delivered from the fires of hell because of this remarkable couple.

* Another chorale group fervently singing, "Be careful those of you who teach. Teachers will be required of so much more than listeners."

* Sitting for three hours in celebration of this big day could be miserable because of steamy temperatures, but the Lord mercifully gave us an overcast day with gentle breezes.

* Thinking how handsome the professors and students of Laban II look in their beautiful new shirts and pants the Lord provided.

* The blessing of dignity that new clothes gives these poverty-stricken students makes my heart sing. They left their families for two years, one trimester at a time, have walked mile after mile, have left their wives and children destitute because of the economy of Congo because of lack of jobs. Have gone without even bare necessities such as soap, meat, and other items stocked on our shelves with little regard. They have endured hardship as soldiers of Jesus Christ. It is because God has surrounded them with songs and shouts of deliverance that they have come this far. Psalm 32:7.

* So proud of the academic dean here at Iwungu, Pastor Kapem N'koy Delphine. He was steeped in the religion of works when he entered Laban Bible Institute at Nkara in 1981. His brilliant mind soaked up the life-giving Word of God and he soon embraced Jesus. The scales that had blinded his eyes fell like shackles. Kapem speaks three languages fluently and has poured out his life as a drink offering to our incomparable, Ancient of Days, here in the obscurity in the bush of Africa. In our eyes, he is a prince.

* Thinking how privileged we are to work with this quiet, respectful group of professors/pastors at Laban II.

* Trying to hide my laughter as another chorale walked up to the front of the church in all sincerity, kneeling with hands held skyward, with many dressed in white shirts and dark skirts or pants, and some in powder-blue robes, when Jim pointed out the writing on the back of one man wearing a bright orange t-shirt which said, "I am a pumpkin!"

* Love the way they sing - strong bass, many parts - they answer each other. One will start and sing a stanza or two and then this beautiful chorus joins in and repeats what the leader just sang.

* All in all, it has been a super day. Obscurity and abject poverty do not go hand-in-hand with royalty or nobility in man's eyes. But God's eyes are unlike ours. They search the whole earth to show Himself strong in behalf of those whose hearts are blameless towards Him. Here in our midst are many unsung heroes. Sometimes clad in rags, holding hearts sold out to Jesus Christ. Their nobility is not found by lineage; it is defined by courage, humility, sacrifice, death to self and a zeal for God that enables these men and women to pursue and continue to look at the things that are unseen which are deathless and everlasting. 2 Corinthians 4:18

He Has His Way in the Whirlwind

2010-07-14T06:00:00.000-04:00

Three years ago, our mission campus was invaded by a village long considered an enemy of Laban. I've mentioned before that the intruders wanted, "just a little of Jim's blood." The property here on the mission campus continues to appear to be under dispute. The village of Mpene refuses to acknowledge that the land was personally purchased by Jim's father in 1948. The price in those days was nominal, but still it was an official sale. We have in our custody the original document displaying the thumbprints of the chiefs of Longo and Nkara (they could not yet write their names). This signified the purchase and ownership of the land given to Dr. and Mrs. Smith. However, since an act of suicide through drowning in our lake, we believe in the early 1930s, of the men of Mpene, they equate that act with ownership of the campus.

Mpene is the only village that did not welcome Laban and Marcella in the late 1940s when the mother and father villages of Longo and Nkara opened their arms to them to live here and minister to everyone. In the summer of 2007, I got a call from Jim saying that he was being confined to our home and could only go up the hill to make phone calls. Even then, he had to be escorted by the police. Out of this whirlwind of rebellion, while Jim had to stay put, he began to teach the military entourage the Word of God in our home. When the soldiers guarding the radio station heard this they asked, "When do we get our own Bible study as well?"

So the days of "quarantine" were spent, morning and night, in opening up the Word of God. The captain of the police in our area, was a hard core soldier who showed little if any mercy to people who owed the state money, were caught in a crime, or were in prison. Today, I found out from Pastors Ezekiel and Hosea, who took over where Jim left off after he came back to America, that it was when the captain heard the Bible being taught that he opened his mind and heart to Christ. They said his almost ruthless tactics have so been altered that now, before he makes any judgment on a civilian, he reads Scripture to them and prays about each decision involving them.

The regional military headquarters in Bulungu is comprised of 1000 police and their wives. Bulungu is 25 miles, or three hours from here if the barge across the Kwilu is working. We plan to go with Ezekiel and Hosea once a month to Bulungu. The Bible studies held in our home three years ago have grown to about 800 men and their wives at the headquarters, who welcome Ezekiel each month. These pastors spend a week there after riding their bikes the 50 miles. Many, many are making professions of faith and now some of the earlier converts want to attend Laban Bible Institute here at Nkara. Next time we go, we will be privileged to watch some of them baptized in the Kwilu River.

They meant it for evil, but out of that evil intent, salvation has come to many. What glory is Yours, Lord, for You are mighty to save. You really do have Your way in the whirlwind and the clouds are the dust of Your feet.

Addendum to Aza

2010-07-12T12:32:00.002-04:00

Life is disjointed here in Congo. Before I can finish one task, three others are in my face. Therefore, my blogs are totally unpolished and, sometimes, not well thought through or even totally complete. This leaves me feeling unsettled, but, nevertheless, sharing even incomplete writings is perhaps better than not sharing at all.

In particular, I felt this way about Aza's story. These are some of the things that I failed to mention about this interesting man.

Aza walked on our mission campus about 25 years ago with his wife, Marie, and their little boy, Ntonto. Jim took one look at Marie, who asked if she could attend our Bible Institute, and wondered how long she would last. To his delight, she came alive in class, is a favorite speaker at women's gatherings, and now the director of our Women's Literacy Center. I personally love to hear her pray. She offers much praise to the Lord and her words are coated with grace. The tone of her voice brings me great comfort. She can expose the Word of God beautifully as well.

Back to Aza...Due to his flight in running from the rebellion for 5 years, he never learned to read or write anything other than his name. When he finally came out of the forest, his mother rejected him. She failed to take into consideration the changes her boy would have gone through after five years and told him, "You are not my son." Last fall, Aza entered our newly formed Men's Literacy Center, along with two other staff members. We wait eagerly to hear him read his first sentence.

Out of all the years he worked with us in Congo, he has been a blessing to us, with the exception of an incident that occurred in 1989 when Jim had his accident in Kinshasa. Aza, along with another young man, stole one of Jim's guns. We had to let him go and we really missed him. About 7 years ago, he appeared on the station, confessed what he had done, asked for forgiveness, and asked if he could return here to work. Jim rehired him. He and Marie had four children, but they took in two orphans whom he and his wife loved as if they were their own biological children. Their home sometimes overflow with young people who come to seek the face of God through prayer. Aza is so thin, that when he turns sideways, and sticks out his tongue, he looks like a zipper!

Never has Aza allowed bitterness or resentment negate his grateful attitude. He comes every night, after working all day, to make sure that our water barrels are full. The water is driven up to the barrels via a pump through an underground hose. Aza always has an encouraging word on his lips. He is from the Mupende tribe, who are known to be jacks of all trades. They are also known for their witchcraft. He knows gardening and his job here is to keep close watch over the diesel fuel and gasoline and distribute each.

Lately, he has accompanied us on evangelism trips and his moving testimony has brought grown men to tears - a rarity in Congo. He doesn't own a bike (neither does 95% of the pop. in Congo) and he will never drive a car of his own. His mud/stick home, roofed in tall grass known as mafunga - humble as it is - in God's eyes, is a cathedral ringing forth daily praise and adoration of the God head.

What beauty the Lord has brought out of the ashes of Aza's life (Isaiah 61:3). Truly, "The Lord raises the poor out of the dust and lifts the needy from the ash heap and the dung hill that He may seat them with princes, even the princes of His people." Psalm 113:7-8

Aza, you are a prince. We are indebted to you for enriching our lives. We are wealthier for having known you.

Aza's Testimony

2010-07-07T06:00:00.000-04:00

From 1960-1965, there was a loose uprising which began the year of Congo's independence from Belgian's rule. It was a would-be Communist takeover that failed consisting of five years of war, torture, death, and unimaginable suffering. This invaded much of Congo. Jim asked Aza to share his testimony at Nkwaya yesterday, July 4, 2010. The following testimony is from one of Nkara-Ewa staff members. This is his story in his own words:

You will rejoice and weep at my testimony. The war began in 1960 and lasted until 1965. I was about 12 or 13 at the time. The war came on suddenly, without warning. My mother was in the forest and my father had just died. Word came that rebel soldiers were approaching my village. As you know, the normal procedure to run from war here in Congo is to place the father in front, children in the middle, and the mother at the end. All the utensils and food must follow because the children must eat. All the people began running in this order. But remember, I had no father, and my mother was in the forest, so I was all by myself.

I began running, following the others to the Valley of Water. A canoe was waiting there on the shore. The elderly were taken first and then the mothers and their children. I began to tremble. I stood alone. The man tending the boat took me, even though I had no one to belong to. No arms to hold me, no one to hide me. I talked to God. He hid me. We all ran to the forest and I found myself in the middle of a war I had known nothing about up to this time.

The days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. I was starving. I went from family to family as I found them hiding, but they said, "You cannot eat with us. We don't know you." The war was on me. My clothes wore out. I had no food. I thought, Maybe I will starve, maybe I will die. Airplanes were overhead and all I could hear was the sound of flying bullets.

Most of the daylight hours were spent in a crouching position. I knelt for hours. Eventually, I was totally naked. I managed to find bananas and vegetables. This is how I survived in the forest for five long years. I was haunted by my mother's cries. I knew she must be desperate to find me. I had no medicines, I had no meat. And my feet were injured from all the running without shoes.

I talked to God a lot. I pleaded with Him to let me see my mother again. Then a plane came one day in 1965 and dropped a letter saying, "You who are hiding in the forest, come out."

I ran out, bearded and naked. They dropped white shorts for us. I still remember the dead bodies - the dead mothers with their dead babies ripped out of their wombs, laying either on top of them or beside them. It was difficult to keep from stumbling over them. In fact, one night I slept in a cemetery and didn't even know it.

But God spared my life. He heard my prayers. I am healed.

Today I am married to Marie, who is the director of the Women's Literacy Center, and God has given us four beautiful children. I serve a mighty God who kept me in the palm of His hand.

Church at Nkwaya

2010-07-05T12:59:00.003-04:00

To give you an idea of what church is like in Congo, I outlined an experience on Sunday to share with you.

Prayer:

Nine prayers were said by nine different people as an introduction to the service. We would call that the invocation. They prayed from the following:

* Refuting the evil spirits
* Asking for forgiveness
* That the Holy Spirit would manifest Himself
* Blockage for all the enemies of Christ, to break all power, and to invite the Lord Jesus Christ to come
* Prayer for the nation of Congo, its president, ministers, to put all in God's hands and ask for development such as electricity, hospitals, and good water.
* Acknowledgment that without God, these developments will never take place
* Laban Ministries put into the hands of God
* Giving of thanks to God for hearing them

Each individual who prayed did not pray sentence prayers, but paragraphs imploring the heart of God.

Formal introduction of each member from the Laban Ministries' team.

Prayer was followed by two numbers from one chorale. And the pastor pleaded with the other chorales not to complain that they could not sing because we had such a long program ahead of us.

An hour and a half of exposing 2 Corinthians 5:1-21 from 12 different people.

30 minutes for a baby dedication for three children.

30 minute meeting for the women by Nancy after all the men and children got up and left the church.

30 minute meeting with the village chief discussing problems using Joshua 1:8 to encourage him.

After all this, they asked if we could have another session of teaching that evening, stay overnight, and open up the Word of God the next morning.

Church is not an hour long here on Sundays. It is the life breath for a desperate people who look to God for their hope and deliverance.

Seeking Chiefdom

2010-07-03T06:00:00.000-04:00

The chain of command in Congo is the foundation of its culture. Every village has a chief. Over the village chief is what is known as the groupement or a second village chief, whose higher authority makes him chief over several villages. The village population is comprised of a clan or clans within its tribe. The largest tribe in our immediate area is the Bayanzi tribe. Their native tongue is Kiangi. Each tribe has its own dialect and there are over 400 dialects in all of Congo. So how do we communicate with more than one tribe? Through the trade language of Kituba.

Seven years ago, a person with authority on our staff called another man to come here to be trained as a broadcaster for Radio Glory. He was a graduate of our third Bible school some distance from here. Following his move here, his family came as well. Truly, he had a radio voice, seemed so at home in that setting, and his voice has been heard by millions of listeners. Our 2500 watt transmitter reaches far and wide to cities and other bush missions. We have little competition here in the "nseke" or "plains."
Jim has always called Radio Glory a "voice in the wilderness."

When entering the village to evangelize, as soon as the women heard this gentleman speak, their eyes lit up and they were able to put a face with the voice and the name they had heard so many times on the air. For about five years, he seemed to be doing well. He endeared himself to his listeners, always attended our prayer meetings at Nkara, and appeared to have a good handle on preaching the Word of God. He handled himself well. Then something happened to change all that. Chiefdom become a strong urge in his soul. He began challenging the director of Radio Glory. He sent letters, signing his own name as director, instead of Pastor Mboma's name. A few months ago, he held a private meeting with the other announcers, without calling the director, to discuss a problem they were having with the director's wife. He lied. He openly disrespected our authority as well, and committed acts that were culturally offensive to the director.

After many telephone conversations with members of the staff and our leadership here, plus interviews after we arrived here, we, with the consensus of the board in America, decided to let him go. It has been a sad week. Jobs are very hard to find in Congo.

Is seeking chiefdom ever worth it?

Police Wives

2010-07-01T14:26:00.004-04:00

Every Wednesday morning we go to the captain's house about a mile or two from our home to see the wives of the policemen who serve in this part of Congo. Three years ago, two of our graduates started going to encourage them and teach them Scripture. I first met them then as well. They were a pathetic group, spiritually asleep, no Bibles, living a transient life-here two years, there two years-and married to men who, instead of holding positions of honor, are neglected. Not only grossly underpaid, but have even gone without pay for a year. Some have chosen to rob, rape, and injure the local population in order to survive and release their rage.

Last week I went to share the Word of God with them. Their group had tripled in size. Their energy and enthusiasm was great, wearing big smiles, and they were just a delight to my soul. The captain's wife opened in prayer. A song followed, then another lady prayed asking the Lord to forgive us and make us clean, realizing we have lapses in our lives and thoughts that may blind us from the sins we have committed this morning. Another song followed. More prayer after that to invoke God's blessing on the time together and to assure the Holy Spirit He was very welcome to dwell among us as a group. More singing. Another prayer offered to bless the Word of God. I shared Zephaniah 3:17, "The LORD your God is with you. He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you; He will quiet you with His love. He will rejoice over you with singing."

Sheer ecstasy overwhelms my soul as I embrace the truth of God rejoicing over me with singing, quieting me with His love, and taking great delight in me. I can't get enough of the fact that the Lord would sing over me and they couldn't either. What amazing tools in the Lord's hands can be these women. They are being lifted from the pit of fear they have been handed. These couples are now finding power in restraining from sin, pursuing God's Word, and giving themselves over to holiness. That's the dynamite power of the gospel of Jesus Christ.

Touching Gratitude

2010-06-30T06:00:00.000-04:00

Nkara is a beautiful place. We live in a lovely setting. Our home sits on ground that was once covered with elephant grass (denoting its height). It is also where the elephants used to eat. The mission campus consists of a valley surrounded by horseshoe-shaped hills. We have over 200 hundred acres at our immediate disposal. Since June and July are part of the three month dry season, the grass doesn't grow as quickly, but it can and does get out of hand. Our Bible Institute students are unable to pay but a little and sometimes nothing toward tuition, so they are given chores.

Three days this week, after completing final exams, they came to cut the grass on the hill, which has practically covered our pineapple patch, all the way down to the lake at the bottom of the hill. As they were vigorously cutting away with their coup-coups, or very long knives, Jim joined them. They are very respectful of us and all stopped to acknowledge his presence. He asked the seniors, "Have you learned anything these three years?"

At first they were silent and seemed perplexed, so he repeated the question.

"Oh, yes, Mr. Jim! The Word of God has turned on a great light in our lives. We have confessed to God that we used to teach what was not true. So many things we used to do and lies we used to tell, unintentionally, we are now ashamed of and sorry for. Scripture has set us free from our former enslavement. This happiness we have never before known."

Their contentment, joy on their faces, and their bright eyes awakened to new life and true treasure, continues to spill over on our lives. We know that it will spread to those who become fellow worshippers of the churches they will pastor in the future.

Deliverance and Transformation

2010-06-28T14:56:00.002-04:00

Today has to be one of the most beautiful days in Congo ever. It is around 70 degrees with overcast skies (which diminish the rays of the hot tropical sun). These perfect weather conditions never fail to surprise and delight me because, after all, we are in Africa. June and July can be a dream out here. They are the months of Congo's "winter."

After an early morning, five-mile walk up Aerobic Hill and down the airstrip twice, passing the dispensary, which by the way, houses brand new lab equipment, which our lab tech proudly displayed to us, we returned to the house and ate breakfast.

I noticed about 8 women gathering under the big shade tree in front of our home, and so I went out to greet their happy, smiling faces. These women are third year students in the Women's Literacy Center. Beaming countenances showing white teeth expressed their joy at being "finalists" as they are called here. They will soon graduate. Attending school has changed their lives by:

* going from only being count to three to being able to make change when shopping.

* from not knowing how to write their names to being able to read the Bible they are given at graduation to their children and husbands every night.

* from living in the night of ignorance and shame to being able to earn money with the skills of cooking and sewing they learned in class.

* from feeling like a total dunce in their marriages to being able to communicate their opinions in a respectful way with their husbands.

Oh! I wish you could hear and see the delight of their souls as they praise God and thank Him in prayer over and over for their deliverance and transformation.

Are you not a part of this? Praise God, you are!

Enlarging Our Territory

2010-06-26T06:00:00.000-04:00

Three years ago a former government soldier, after having left that profession, graduated from Laban Bible Institute, and began ministering to the local police/soldiers. He enthusiastically spoke of his conversion from a vile life of harming and robbing innocent civilians of their money, goods, raping women, drunken brawls, and living a lower life. He was even shot through the leg. The police in Congo move around alot. Every two or three years, they are relocated. Pastor Ezekiel started ministering at the local commandant's office, then expanded to Pindi, a port city 20 miles from our campus.

He then went on to the large town of Bulungu, the government center of the region with Bible teaching. Just a few days ago, he showed up on official invitation from the Congolese government that the whole Kwilu region had opened up to Laban Ministries. They want very much for him to come and share God's glory with them. This region consists of six other major areas in a locality of 5000 square miles. One of the towns is called Masa Manimba, which is 200 miles from us! The name means, "the water of sleep." How exciting it is to share the Lord in a part of the world that is desperate for God and knows it; and not only that, but a people who have seen God's Word and recognize that in it are the answers to life and the power to lift them from the ash heap. Amen, Lord!

A Different Congo

2010-06-24T15:10:00.004-04:00

The Congo of today is not the Congo of even 10 years ago. Jim and I had taken our early morning walk. We passed by our dispensary and then met up with a truck at the end of the road which leads to our mission campus. That road we call, "Aerobics Hill." We could see that the truck was headed down Aerobic Hill so we waited for him to proceed after several people got off and some things were unloaded. Because they appeared that they wanted to wait for someone or something else, we started down the path after giving them greetings. It was at that point, just a few feet ahead of the truck, that the driver revved his engine and began following us. He got closer and closer. The road is walled in by huge banks with brush and dirt on both sides. As he continued to approach us, we realized we had nowhere to escape. Jim turned around to stop him. I fell on the bank on the right side of the road so as to escape being run over. And the trucker ran into the left bank where Jim had been standing.

Why?

The other man in the cab of the truck got scared when he saw Jim's face and his response to the chauffeur, who came very close to running us over. He told Jim that the driver would have stopped, but he couldn't have stopped on his own as the 6 ton Toyota had no brakes. That is why he had to drive the truck into the bank of the hill to stop it. Jim could have been seriously injured or even killed. A decade ago, missionaries would rarely have been treated that way by a perfect stranger in the bush. The city is another story.

It just shows how important your prayers are for us. They avail much!

Snake Bite in the Bush

2010-06-21T14:27:00.002-04:00

The bush is a special place in the interior of Congo. It is a place you must depend upon God because there are so many lacks. And a place also where God shows up because of the reality of lacks we face here. He is all constant.

The gap of lacks has narrowed at Nkara in the last 31 years we have lived here, especially in the area of communication. Five years ago, the cell phone came in. Six years ago, Radio Nkembo started broadcasting, giving hope to a potential of 8 million Congolese listeners. Through the preaching of the gospel, Bible teaching, Christian music, and announcements of deaths, births, and general village news, events can now be put on the calendar such as the starting the finishing of school years throughout the region, state exams, graduations, and special activities, plus invitations to conventions, conferences, and reunions. Before the sound of communication opened up, it felt more like Nkara was close to Mars but the radio and cell phones have closed the wide margin of isolation we once knew as a way of life.

In sharp contrast, however, other lacks still prevail. One big one is the medical care which is next to nothing in our area. The nearest hospital is a two and a half day walk. Five hundred people a month die in our immediate region from childbirth, malaria, and typhoid. But then more die each year from malaria. DDT would wipe it out for the most part, but that method endangers the animals. The fact that humans suffer with this dreadful malady makes my blood boil.

Back to the snake bite...since stun guns are not allowed on international flights, we are unable to have one at our disposal today. It would have come in so handy for the snake bite that a man received in the forest while tending his garden. Why a stun gun? Amazingly enough, the electrical charge from a stun gun, when applied to the bite site itself, neutralizes the venom. We found out about this when Jim read an article several years ago about a man highly allergic to bee stings. He was running to get away from them, after he had been stung, when he stumbled onto an electric fence. He lived, and not only that, he was never allergic to bee stings again. A missionary doctor who lived in central America decided to try the same thing on people who came to him after they had been bitten by snakes. They lived!

Since we have no stun gun, Jim took an electrical wire, attached it to a small generator, and touched the man's arm where he had been bitten. And voila! It worked! The snake was a mamba, deadly poisonous. Actually he had had to revert to this kind of treatment many times in treating snake bites.

Lord, we praise You for being our constant, to show us solutions out here because we had no other option--things we would never have to revert to in America. Truly, God, You are the Creator and Sustainer of life. How many times have we, especially shown it true in the bush of Congo, and we so love You for it!

"What is the vine tree more than any tree, or than a branch which is among the trees of the forest." Ezekiel 15:1,2

2010-05-11T22:50:00.002-04:00

It has been recommended that reading include old books of yesteryear. I was reading one of Charles Spurgeon's sermons today and became stricken in my heart not only for my own edification but felt compelled to share it with you as well.

He is expounding on Ezekiel 15:1,and 2. "What is the vine tree more than any tree, or than a branch which is among the trees of the forest?" Spurgeon goes on to say, " In looking upon all the various trees, we observe that the vine is distinguished among them; so tht, in the old parable of Jothan, the trees waiting upon the vine-tree, and said uto it, "Come thou and reign over us."

Looking at the vine by itself, apart from its fruitfulness, there is nothing to see that would be that appealing. It has no obvious kingship over the other trees. The size of it, form, comeliness, or usefulness does not give it even a slight advantage. Not even the wood is of any good. It is only its fruit that makes it worthy, useful, and appealing.

We are called "God's vine," who love the Lord, yet apart from God we neither are nothing. Apart from the grace of God and if in this life, this is all there is, we are among men most miserable, Paul exclaimed.

Another paragraph by the author states, "Great Christian, thou shouldst have been a great sinner if God had not made thee to differ. O! thou who are valiant for truth, thou wouldst have been as valiant for the devil if grace had not laid hold of thee. A seat in heaven shall one day be thine; but a chain in hell would have been thine if grace had not changed thee. Thou canst now sing his love; but a licentious song might have been on thy lips, if grace had not washed thee in the blood of Jesus. Thou are now sanctified, thou art quickened, thou art justified; but what wouldst thou have been today if it had not been for the interposition of the divine hand? There is not a crime thou mightest not have committed; there is not a folly into which thou mightest not have run. Even murder itself thou mightest have committed if grtace had not kept thee. Thou shalt be like the angels; but thou wouldst have een like the devil if thou hadst not been changed by grace.

Therefore, never be proud; all thy garments thou has from above; rags were thine only heritage. Be not proud, though thou hast a large estate, a wide domain of grace; thou hadst once not a single thing to call thine own, except thy sin and misery. Thou art now wrapped up in the golden righteousness of the Saviour, and accepted in the garments of the beloved; but thou wouldst have been buried under the black mountain of sin, and clothed with the filthy rags of unrighteousness, if he had not changed thee. And art thou proud? Dost thou exalt thyself?

O! strange mystery, that thou, who hast borrowed everything, should exalt thyself; that thou, who hast nothing of thine own, but hast still to draw upon grace, shouldst be proud; a poor dependent pensioner upon the bounty of thy Saviour, and yet proud; one who hath a life which can only live by fresh streams of life from Jesus, and yet proud!

Go, hand thy pride upon the gallows, as high as Haman; hang it there to rot, and stand thou beneath, and execrate it to all eternity; for sure of all things most to be cursed and despised is the pride of a Christian. He, of all men, has ten thousand times more reason than any other to be humble, and walk lowly with his God, and kindly and humbly toward his fellow creatures. Let this, then, humble thee, Christian, that the vine-tree is nothing more than any other tree, save only for the fruitfulness which God has given it."

Purge us, Lord, of pride in any form. We are nothing without You, but the sky is the limit with You, Father. We come broken, cracked, and bleeding to your Throne room, boldly asking you to reign in us today, so that Your fragrance will fill the air and waft over those around us. Every breath we breathe comes from you. Every good thing comes from Your hand. Deliver us from the mentality of entitlement. You owe us nothing. We owe You everything. May Your mind be our mind. We humbly bow before you in worship.

Congo Calling

2010-04-30T11:33:00.002-04:00

In just four weeks and some, we will be winging our way once again to the formerly "dark continent" of Africa. It is an amazing place to live, providing amazing ministry opportunities, amazing challenges, amazing people to rub shoulders with, and amazing heartaches, but most of all we will see an amazing God work out complications and impossible situations right before our eyes!

In preparation for the trip, we hosted a benefit dinner on April 22 at Crystal Gardens in Southgate MI. Our coordinator, Tammy, pulled out the stops, and we enjoyed a beautiful atmosphere decked with fresh white linens gracing 32 tables. In the center of each table was a runner made of bold, bright, beautiful African cloth, surrounded by lovely china and real silverware (we are such a disposable society these days with our dinnerware), goblets, and a charming candle centerpiece.

Crystal Gardens served a delicious meal, consisting of 3 entrees, three side dishes, salad, rolls, soft drinks, topped off by an ice cream sundae. Programs outlined several "Did you know's?" about the work in Africa. It was hard to choose which of these Q&A's to include because the work is now pushing 72 years, and Africa is such an interesting place to discuss.

Our son, Jack, was Master of Ceremonies this year. He brought something new to the table--live violin and guitar accompaniment--a feast for the ears. There is great passion in Jack's singing, and his stirring historical overview of Laban Ministries not only brought tears to his eyes, but to ours as well.

Paul Perugi, board member, and dear friend, interviewed Jim and me. Jim and I could blab all night about the work and the people and what God is doing there, but Paul managed to reign us in. One of the highlights of the interview was that Pastor Kilundu surveyed graduates of LMI spread out all over the Bandundu Province. He traveled 200 miles on foot because his motorbike is worn out. His job as overseer of our graduate pastors takes him into areas where he must park his motorcycle and walk because there aren't even paths to some of the remote villages these Laban pastors call home. He reported to us that hundreds of thousands of people have made professions, and we were reminded once again that just because we don't see that happening here in America, doesn't mean that it isn't happening elsewhere.

Pastor Tom Downs of Gilead Baptist Church challenged everyone to become a part of the highlight of this summer--an aggressive evangelistic thrust, outreach, and crusade if you will at Ilebo (ee lay bow), a city of up to 200,000 people. A city that is impossible to travel to by land vehicle, and so Mission Aviation Fellowship will be flying our evangelism team and musicians there on or about September 7, providing the weather cooperates and the schedule works out.

Ilebo is a town of darkness, despair, hopelessness, voodoo, witchcraft, and idolatry. Steeped in demonism, it offers people the option of following satan at his beck and call. Pastor Ibala, who has ministered there for about a decade, decided this needs to change. So he walked, biked, took a boat, and walked some more all the way to the Nkara campus to plead with us to come and preach and teach the Word of God.

The trip will be costly. This summer and fall in Congo will be costly, but nothing is too hard for the Lord, and so we go trusting Jesus to supply every need and then some.

Pastor Downs poured his heart into making this daunting trip possible with the help of God's people. An offering of over $19,000 was received, which is the largest ever for this amount of people attending one of these dinner events. Thank you Pastor Tom for your compelling words.

Thank you everyone who attended for responding to the need.

As usual, we will keep you posted through FB, twitter, and this blog.

The big thing we are seeking before, during, and after this next season of ministry is your prayers. The fervent prayers of a righteous man (a man or woman in Christ) avail MUCH. Nobody knows how much that much is, but we know this much: It is powerful. It is changing statistics for eternity. It is snatching people from the fires of hell forever. It is transformation. It is worship of demons turned sour, and it becomes worship of the Ancient of Days. It is resurrection for people who are lost and dying, hell bound. It unleashes the opportunity for anyone and everyone to come to the Living Water. It is break through after break through. It is introduction to the fruit of the Spirit. It is a defining moment that thrusts people into the wonder of resting in the arms of Jesus. And so much more.

Please join us in prayer. Please join us by investing in this endeavor. Paul said that he didn't want the people's money in Philippians for himself. He wanted them to give so that their spiritual bank account would be BIG, that it wouldn't be overdrawn because of a lack of souls banked there. That is a noble thought. How much are we banking in heaven NOW?

This is an amazing opportunity to invest in lives who some day will walk up to you in Glory and thank you for giving so that they could enjoy life in Christ for evermore. Praise God, what riches we can extend to others through something as close to our fingertips as money, any amount. God's interest pays high dividends. God bless you all. We are excited to go and will be excited to share with you as we walk this journey the amazing results of letting God's Word loose and watching it do its work.

Killer Bees in Congo - Jim Smith

2010-03-26T21:52:00.002-04:00

We have noticed for years that there were African killer bees in the little woods near our house. They have never bothered anyone, and one man even climbed up and got us some honey from their nest. He did this by smoking the nest so that the bees scattered, and it was at night. Night time is better because the bees cannot see as well at night just like us.

The Congolese do not wish to kill the bees, so they use smoke to chase them away temporarily in order to obtain the honey and the honeycomb. The palm tree containing the bees was cut down in order to give more sunlight to our newly built greenhouse (Congolese style). Although we knew bees inhabited that immediate area, we did not know that this particular palm tree was THEIR HOME.

Two days later,the bees whose house had been violated decided to put their nest IN THE ATTIC OF OUR HOUSE! Hundreds and hundreds of bees entered our home between the tin roof and the wall because screen was not covering all the little air passageways. They found places to enter and began setting up their new nest, preparing for a queen bee to come sit on her throne.

I had no idea this was going on as I had been out of the house working all day. In the late afternoon, however, I and some of our staff began seeing bees swirling round outside near the attic, looking for a place to enter, which they did. The men with me were very concerned. They knew something would have to be done, but it was late in the day.

I thought the bees might be trying to put their new nest in the eaves of the tin roof, so I went to bed as usual, and slept the night undisturbed. My wife, Nancy, had already left Congo to return to America. The following day, one of our workers, Aza, went up into the attic, and he returned very quickly. The attic was loaded with killer bees. They were all over. I was still in the house because they had not chosen to come down to the second floor. The attic is on the third floor.

When Aza returned he said that the situation was not good and that we needed to do something about it. Now they were beginning to come to the second floor where all the bedrooms are, buzzing around in the landing, so I got the bug spray. It worked--for a while. I was warned by the nationals not to step on and crush any of the bees because the other bees will rush to his defense after smelling his fluids that come out after he is crushed. They can come by the hundreds, so trying to get rid of them by the bug spray was not quite like crushing one of them.

I closed the bedroom door (its' about 9 p.m.), and the generator is running to give us lights. By this time, about 50 bees were dead on the floor from the bug spray on the landing outside of our bedroom. Aza came by and shut the generator off. With the lights turned off and the doors closed, I felt by their silence, they were settling down.

The next day, one of the first questions asked was, "Did the bees bother you last night or this morning?" I said, "No." Now there were even more bees swirling around outside. Aza, from the Bapende tribe, knew that we had to take action to get the bees away from the house. They have had experience with killer bees. These are aggressive African bees, and if they are bothered in any way, they strike. So, he and his son, Ntoto, got the long ladder. The attic is close to 25' in the air. The bees had centered themselves outside of the attic in vents which are usually covered by screen, but they had found a hole to get in.

Aza took an old rag and put some used truck oil on it. He lit it well enough so that it was smoking. I gave him a hooded raincoat and a pair of gloves and a torch that was 10' long. He didn't want to get any closer than he had to. The smoke began to drive the bees away. I am outside watching this happen. The bees knew because of the smoke that this was not a good place to set up housekeeping.

So they left. We really didn't know for sure the status of the attic--whether or not they had cleared completely out. So Aza went up the stairs again to make an inspection two days after their arrival. They were gone, but the floor was covered by hundreds and hundreds of them.

Though I had been warned that the African bee is very aggressive, I didn't realize how dangerous they could be until I saw the way Aza and many of our work staff reacted to their presence. Their concern was contagious. How grateful I was for Aza and Ntoto who were willing to risk being bitten to protect me and get rid of those bees. Again the method was smoke and fire because no fluids are exuded from the bee which would draw other family bee members to attack whatever or whoever had crushed one of their relatives.

I am thankful to this day for the mercies of God and the goodness of our African people!

Jim Smith

A Braid of Joy, Sorrow, and Hope

2010-03-21T15:35:00.005-04:00

March 17 would have been the second birthday of our grandson, Luke. Referred to by his parents as, "Our little man," they decided to bring together children and friends to honor his memory yesterday, on March 20. We gathered at a beautiful park in Franklin, and scores of children and their parents, both sets of grandparents, Greg and Nicol and Summer, cousins, and some people who are walking the same road as Nicol and Greg all met to remember and celebrate Luke's life.

We mingled with purpose, and our ears and eyes delighted in

the sounds of adult laughter

the joy of children laughing

the sweetness of cousins hugging

the balm in lots of hugging

the satisfying fun food

the freshness of new acquaintances

the warmth of family

the delight of a cake walk

the surprise of discovery on an Easter egg hunt

the wealth of sharing

the wonder of God's Hand in holding off the rain

the showing up of the Lord in the little things

the appreciation of decent weather

the peace of no stress

the visiting of Luke's grave site later on

the quiet tears

the shared sorrow

the soft weeping

the reminiscing

the wrapping of all these wonderful elements into the blessed hope that

the best is yet to come

the balm that followed

Postscript: Jim, having lost a baby brother, a teen-aged brother, his father at the age of 10, and his mother who preceded us to Congo in '78, offered to Nicol that Lukey might be offering them this comfort, "Oh! Mama, Oh! Daddy, Oh! Summer, What Glory!

Dinner Benefit April 22, 2010

2010-02-17T11:49:00.002-05:00

On Thursday, April 22, at 6:30 p.m., we will gather to lift the name of Jesus high. We long to tell new people about the work the Lord is doing in Congo and praise Him for His incredible faithfulness. We will celebrate with music by Jack and Molly Smith, updates on our evangelism efforts in Congo, what the Spirit of the Living God has accomplished this past year in Congo, future goals, a sit-down, family style dinner with 3 entrees, and a great evening of meeting new people and renewing friendships. Your presence is so desired. This year there will be no charge, but a ticket is necessary to attend. The evening is being underwritten by friends and supporters of Laban. Call 313 292 5445 to make reservations. Please mark your calendar and join us to spread the good word and make Jesus famous!

"If Your Presence does not go with us. . . "

2010-02-16T11:58:00.004-05:00

Moses pleadingly replied to the Lord in Exodus 33:15, and 16, even after God said He would go with them, continued to plea, "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with (us) and with your people unless you go with us? What else will distinguish (us) and your people from all the other people on the face of the earth."

He was leading about 1,500,000 stiff-necked Israelites through the wilderness, which turned out to be a 40-year hike. As you recall, they had gotten sick and tired of waiting for Moses to come down off the mountain and gave all their earrings (given so eagerly to them by the Egyptians from whom they had fled) to Aaron because they had had enough of waiting on Moses' Lord. They wanted to plot their own course. Sound familiar? How often I have taken things into my own hands instead of allowing the Lord to completely navigate my course of action.

At any rate, God forewarned Moses before he returned from his mountaintop experience that trouble was brewing below. When Moses saw the people dancing and reveling, his temper flared, and he flung the two tablets containing the Ten Commandments to the ground, "breaking them into pieces at the foot of the mountain." Instead of returning to the sound of victory with the Israelites rallying around Him, wrestling in prayer for direction and God's blessing, they were "running wild" and out of control, thus making themselves "a laughingstock to their enemies." And, out of no where, a calf had sprung up out of the fire started by Aaron. However, Exodus 32:4 clearly states that Aaron made the gold earrings "into an idol cast in the shape of a calf, fashioning it with a tool." On top of all that, the calf got credit for leading them out of Egypt!

"And the Lord struck the people with a plague because of what they did with the calf Aaron had made."

Furthermore, he told Moses to leave that place and go to the land of milk and honey. Only one big catch--Yahweh refused to go with them. They had made him so angry he might destroy them on the way!

This historical account always grips my heart. and every time we go to Congo, I bow the knee and reiterate the words of Moses, "If your Presence does not go with us, do not send us up from here. How will anyone know that you are pleased with us and with your people, unless you go with us?"

We are due to leave for Congo on June 2. It will be another daunting trip. Just going to a third-world country can stretch a person taut. If I allow my flesh to ponder too much on the what ifs and the utterly humanly speaking impossible challenges we will face, my heart grows faint.

Today I choose to remember His faithfulness these past 70 plus years since Dr. Laban and Marcella Smith first landed on African soil. With God WE ARE ALWAYS A MAJORITY. Tears fell from my eyes yesterday as I read these penetrating facts through the pen of David, the warrior poet who says in Psalm 62:5-8:

God, the one and only--
I'll wait as long as he says,
Everything I hope for comes from him,
so why not?
He's solid rock under my feet,
breathing room for my soul,
An impregnable castle:
I'm set for life.

My help and glory are in God
--granite-strength and safe-harbor God--
So trust him absolutely people;
lay your lives on the line for him.
God is a safe place to be.

It takes a mighty army fighting the good fight when it comes to ministry. Will you be a part of that army and fight for the kingdom by interceding for Laban Ministries starting right now and then continuing June 2 through October 26, which is when we get back in the States? I cannot tell you the comfort we have experienced down through the years from the heartfelt prayers of God's people. Please, please consider bending the knee with us for a summer of breakthroughs. Praise God for the freedom to ask you even to do such a thing! As we are praying for Congo, its needs, its government, its future, let us not to forget to pray for our beloved America. God bless America!

Thank you

2010-02-06T23:27:00.002-05:00

Thank you so much to all who prayed for Jim's surgery. He is doing well. We are so grateful for your prayers.

In other news, our first tea to support the Ladies Literacy Center in Congo was a smashing success. Tickets were sold out 2 weeks ahead of time, and the fellowship hall at First Pres. was bursting at the seams. 170 women were served, and more than $6,000 was raised for the reading school.

We would love to replicate these teas, so if you are interested in organizing one and holding one, please email me at labancongo@aol.com. Praise the Lord for people in America who love the poor. The Lord surely does!

Health Care in Congo

2010-01-13T20:42:00.002-05:00

During the last two weeks my husband and I have been preparing for his upcoming surgery in two days, which includes office visits, consultations, viewing a DVD re various types of anesthesia, speaking with the anesthesiologist, getting registered at Beaumont, lab work, an EKG, and another round of antibiotics after a final ultrasound. Insurance benefits were reviewed by the hospital. Questions have been raised and answered. All in all having surgery involves process, education, and procedure.

Congo, on the other hand, is another story. In our driving back and forth from one office to another, an incident that occurred years ago in Congo has haunted me this week. I cannot shake its horror.

I wish it were fiction.

It's not.

It happened at a remote clinic with no sterile conditions. By remote, I mean remote. No electricity--ever. No running water. 450 miles due east from the capital city of Kinshasa, known as the bush. Topography of savannah, plains, rolling hills, no paved roads, no grocery stores, no gas stations, no department stores, no Home Depot, no Target (oh my), few cars, few trucks (ours), no big airports, no hospitals, no pharmacies, no drug stores. I told you it was remote.

The State of Congo owns the clinic. It was the only place the teen could get any "help," She complained of abdominal pain, discomfort, and other symptoms which drove her to seek relief. The clinic was up the hill and down the road from our mission.

Her options: a 2 1/2 day walk to the medical mission of Vanga or a 9 hour truck ride over holey "roads" that her body would not endure. So. . . off she went.

No lab available to check out possible blood abnormalities or clues as to whether she had an infection of any kind. No microscope to examine her blood. No lab tech to even try to make an educated guess.

It was night time. It gets very dark in Congo after 6 p.m. Only 300 miles south of the equator.

She entered the dimly lit room. Put on a filthy robe used by who knows how many other patients preceding her. Climbed onto the table.

The "doctor" in no simple terms told her not to scream. "I don't want any crying. Do you understand?" he yelled at her.

She trembled with dread and fear and promised to comply.

"Shut your mouth, and don't you dare scream," he said.

He turned up the volume of his short wave radio and made an incision in her unanesthetized body. Found nothing wrong with her. Sewed her all up.

No sedation. No antibiotics to fight the infection that would more than likely follow. No bedside manner. No kind words. No advice. No pain pills.

No liability insurance so she could not sue the inept inhumane monster.

To this day I am amazed she survived.

I found myself raising my right hand in the car many a time lately while driving here or there, praising God for the difference between here and Congo, for the blessings of living in America, for the incredible advances medically we benefit from, for the skillful, brilliant doctors and more than competent nurses we have access to here.

We don't deserve the incredible care we get here any more than she deserved the incompetent, heinous treatment she received.

Lord, hasten the day when Laban can build a medical health facility to Your glory, so that the Congolese people don't have to suffer under such dastardly conditions? How many more have to endure such deplorable, abominable treatment? Hasten the day, Lord, when our hospital can be a haven, a refuge, a center of healing physically and spiritually. We surrender to Your will and the mercy of Your people.

Going under the knife

2010-01-10T23:01:00.002-05:00

Please, will you pray for my husband, Jim. He is going to have major surgery on Friday, January 15 a William Beaumont Hospital, Royal Oak, MI. Thank you so much. The fervent prayers of a righteous man availeth much.

First Ever Women's Tea for Laban Ministries

2010-01-06T22:54:00.002-05:00

On Saturday, January 30 at 1:30 p.m., we are meeting at First Presbyterian Church of Trenton located at 2799 West Road. The purpose of this event is to help women in the Congo disrobe their shroud of ignorance, despair, and hopelessness to be donned in the light of the Gospel of Jesus Christ and experience the transforming power of His Word.

The Women's Literacy Center at the mission campus of Nkara-Ewa trains these special ladies for 3 years. The Bible is the sacred text, and it is the first book they learn to read. Their lives are never the same again.

Come and meet some of them. They are very lovable, great moms, grateful in spirit, and beautiful people inside and out.

Music will be provided by Jack and Molly Smith, and Shawn Lantz will is the featured speaker.

Tickets are $10. To reserve your spot, call Molly at 313 292 5445. Hope to see you there! Nancy

Dream Package

2009-12-07T19:01:00.004-05:00

Are you having fun yet? The joys of Christmas include a lot of hustle and bustle as we search for just the right gift for our families and friends. We anticipate the look on their faces as they open each treasure under the tree prepared and packaged especially for them. Far greater than any earthly treasure we could ever buy for the special people in our lives is THE GIFT of God's Son, Jesus Christ.

What an unfathomable act of humility it was for Christ to become an embryo and nestle in the womb of Mary, a woman He Himself created. What must it have been like for Jesus to limit Himself to that seclusion for nine months? "Who being in very nature God did not consider his equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself of no reputation, taking upon Himself the form of a servant." The Lamb of God, the Lion of Judah "had to be made like his brothers in every way in order that He might become a merciful and faithful high priest in service to God, and that He might make atonement for the sins of the people." To you, Lord, Who earnestly remembered us in our low estate and imprinted us on your heart, (and both of your palms) for your mercy and loving kindness which endures forever, we give you praise.

In Congo this day are 83 staff members maintaining Laban Ministries abroad. We love these people, from the leadership of Gary Kapinga, our National Director, Kapem, Vice National Director and Dean of Academics at Laban Bible Institute, Iwungu, Mboma Director of Radio Glory and Assistant National Director to our masons, carpenters, mechanics, women professors, male professors, Mama Marie, Director of the Women's Literacy Center, nurses, radio announcers or journalists, evangelists, to our general foremen and general work staff. They love to laugh. They love their wives, husbands, and children. THEY LOVE GOD. From time to time they pray all night for you and us. They are rich in faith, moving mountains in their prayers. Many live the fruit of the Spirit. They have nothing yet they possess everything. They are real people! They feel deeply. They are emotionally rich, intelligent, brilliant men and women who you help through your gifts each month.

Every Christmas we invite you to provide a Dream Package for one of these precious families. This enables them to buy cloth for their wives, shoes for their husbands, a little dress or shirt and pants for their girls or boys, a Christmas dinner consisting of dried fish, rice, bread, a coke for each faily member, silk worms, fresh beef, and a special toy or gift for each child.

For $300 you can furnish one of our overseas families with a feast and wonderful gift day. Your Dream Package will go a long way to lift the hearts of wonderful staff members who serve the Lord in Laban. The Lord bless you as you contemplate making a huge difference in the life of a servant of Christ in Congo, Africa.

Merry Christmas to you all!

Yasa

2009-12-07T00:04:00.002-05:00

The radio is having such an impact on thousands of people, truly millions in Congo. Our evangelism team went to Yasa, a village of 5,000 + people. They welcomed us for two reasons: 1. The pastor of the village was a graduate of Laban and 2. Because they most certainly hear Radio Glory or Radio Nkembo everyday.

The first choir met us 1/4 of a mile from the village. As we grew nearer, even more choirs (at least 8) met us. We were thronged by crowds. The Land Cruiser couldn't get through, so I got out of the car and walked. The Presence of the Holy Spirit made the 1/4 mile walk to the church grounds a celebration of joy and no fear. I honestly had a sensing of Jesus riding on the donkey at the Triumphal Entry into Jerusalem.

One hundred and forty souls accepted Jesus that night. More could have, but that wonderful graduate of LBI, Pastor Aio, and his staff had already led many to Christ and so did the Holy Spirit use Radio Glory. He has been ministering in Yasa for 13 years.

The radio is so important for follow up and the growing of Christians to be like Jesus. It is the most cost effective arm of evangelism we have in the bush. Praise God for His mighty power in raising up this incredible tool of outreach!

High Prices to Pay

2009-12-02T15:06:00.008-05:00

Today in Congo the temperatures will rise to about 90 or so degrees. Our winter is their summer. Women will leave the "norm" of their villages to attend the literacy center at Nkara mission campus. Nkara is located 450 miles due east of Kinshasa, the capital of the Democratic Republic of Congo, which is neither democratic nor republic. Nevertheless, they will courageously leave the daily routine of going to the gardens at 3 or 4 a.m. where they plant or harvest crops of the cassava root, its spinach-like leaf, corn which is now in season, peanuts, squash, and other greens, some of which are more palatable than others, but eaten by all nationals in Congo. After all they are hungry people.

The cassava root, which is similar to wallpaper paste in texture, contains only one percent protein, but it swells the stomach, and sensing a full feeling is essential to people who have so little to consume before they go to bed. Its odor is similar to sweaty armpits, and for so little return a lot of work goes into serving "manioc" as it is called or luku each night to the family. My husband loves luku. He grew up with it and the smell doesn't phase him. Filling the kids' and husband's plates with this stuff is no easy task. First the root is planted. Harvesting takes 3 years, but then it is basically low maintenance for the next 5 years of reaping. The bark-covered starchy vegetable is dug up with a small hoe from the ground. The covering is peeled, revealing a white, turnip-shaped plant which contains arsenic. So. . . this means that it must be soaked in a local stream for 3 days for purification, after which it is dried on the roof of a lean-to, and then pounded into a floury powder. It is then stirred into a large black pot of boiling water and when enough has been added, the thick, gooey substance is rolled into a big ball and served to the kids and the man of the house. One phase or another is going on everyday in the average home of the Congolese woman. You can imagine the uproar if this process gets out of sync.

The women also leave the water getting to someone else as well as the care of their children, getting home in time to cook supper, and the drag of status quo villagers whose aspirations have many times long been abandoned by death, disease, or lack of opportunity. To break away from this rut is costly. No one likes public ridicule.

The ladies arrive on campus at 8 a.m. each morning Monday through Friday. If she is a second year student, she will begin her day discoving the alphabet so she can learn to read and write, and then take the following courses: Domestic Economy, Women of the Bible, Etiquette, Christian Family Living, Philippians, Colossians, Ephesians, I & II Timothy, and African Culture. On Fridays she will pursue knitting and crocheting, and sewing with a hand-operated Singer sewing machine from the early 20th century, which by the way is great for Congo because there is no electricity in the school or in the villages. First-year students basically have less of the same instruction so as not to overwhelm them. Many are not able to read or write their anything.

Third-year students vary in their subjects, adding The History of Congo, Hebrews, Health and Hygiene, Philemon, Romans, and French. Everyone once again gathers on Fridays to learn skills that will give them an opportunity in the future to sell their handmade goods. In the spring the "mikati" course is added. (mee . cot . ee) Remember the luku? Instead of rolling the luku into a big ball, the sticky paste is divided into smaller sections and rolled into little donut holes, dropped into hot palm fat, and sometimes rolled onto unrefinied sugar, making a delightful snack for any time of the day. It might seem a small accomplishment to some, but these donut holes are loved as much as ours, and remember there is no Dunkin Donuts in all of Congo! So any "shoppers" can purchase these tasty treats as they cruise on by. Mama's kitchen has become a little business center, and she can help support her family in a creative way.

Our Women's Literay Center opened in 2004, and until recently women had to fight the taunts and jeers of fellow villagers whose value of education was measured by their lack thereof. They bravely set aside the traditions of their culture to move up to a better place in life, though it was a costly move. They worked through the challenges of walking long distances daily, coming home to perhaps a family who did not appreciate having to wait and wait for supper unless she had older children who could go to her gardens and get water for her. She had to wrestle with the reality that attending school may not equate to having a job when she finished which would guarantee a better life style for her family. Was having the skills of reading and writing really worth it all?

These first 3 graduating classes were the pioneers in adventuring out of the mold of rut living, of breaking through the chains of darkness produced by ignorance, of the embarrassment of not being able to read notes sent home from school with their children and of having to rely on them to inform them of the contents of the note, of enduring the stabbing pain of ridicule and being called "stupid" for not being able to read or write, the shame of even being treated as a slave by their husbands and other men in the village, the immeasurable sadness of not being able to read the blessed Word of God to their children, and the despair that that hopelessness renders.

But God. . . God makes all things new. He is always doing a new thing. He not only redeems our souls but our situations, our spirits, our circumstances, no matter how downtrodden we and they may be.

Today, these women are respected and admired in their villages. They carry themselves with dignity because of the reassurance that God loves them. For the first time in their lives, the living, breathing Word of God can minister to them at their will, just by picking up the Book and reading it. The deep-seated peace that encapsulates their being is a treasure long sought after, and it comes across in their daily living. You can imagine the thrill our women profs have of leading many of them to the saving knowledge of Christ. We were all moved to tears recently at one such testimony.

So now, we are faced with an incredibly wonderful, delicious problem: Every village nearby wants its own literacy center!!! I don't know what that means. I don't know if that's God's plan. I am just relishing in the way God has lavished His love on these beautiful people who are born and die in obscurity from the world, but who are so near and dear to the heart of God. I love it when something works and it works well. We have a gold mine, and praise God, its true worth is being embraced by more and more lovely women of Congo. Thank you Jesus. You are so amazing, you take my breath away with your Greatness!

We would love to introduce some of these incredible heroines to you at the tea we are hosting on January 30 in Trenton, Michigan at the First Presbyterian Church, 2799 West Road at 1:30 p.m. Shawn Lantz is our featured speaker. She is the author of Congo Vignettes and Living with Unmet Desires - Exposing the Many Faces of Jealousy. Tickets are $10. Come celebrate their transformations with us. To make your reservations call 313 292 5445. Looking forward to seeing you there!

What I'm Thankful For - this did not get posted in time

2009-11-25T02:33:00.005-05:00

Two days before Thanksgiving. My head is still reeling from events and life as it took place in Congo this past September and October. The word disparity comes to mind. How so? There is an incredible gap between the way we live life in the States, and how life is lived out in Congo. How is it that men and women who actually live by prayer with no medical help within a 2 1/2 day walk, who make an average of $110 a year, who lose their children to a disease called malaria that could perhaps be cleared up by DDT treatments as it was how many years ago in this country?, who probably will never own a bicycle let alone a car, who beg us to stay longer and come frequently to teach them the Word of God, who have a grasp on what it is to pray and to pray fervently--not just give God a wish list, treating Him like a genie who is supposed to fill all their desires, who deal with death and unmet expectations everyday of their lives, who openly praise God quickly without being solicited to praise Him, why is there such a gap between their high level of thanksgiving and ours?

I don't know all the answers. But I do know that wealth does not necessarily result in an increased level of wonder and awe for the Hand who gave it.

That life does not consist in the abundance of things we possess.

That an abundance of things does not necessarily result in an attitude of thanksgiving.

That life is not viewed by God at all as we view it.

That the Lord maintains their lot in their lack just as He maintains my lot in our abundance.

That I am able to lavish myself on His grace and mercy. I do not want His justice when it comes to my sins, but His mercy, and His mercies are new every single morning!

That I must remind myself we are only a little while on earth. We are eternal, all of us and will either live out eternity in hell or in heaven. Either way, our lives will never end. This reality propels us to be ever fervent in getting the Gospel out so that we can literally snatch them from the burning embers of hell.

That the truth of the matter is there is so much more unseen than seen. Someday we will behold and understand the hidden because the unseen will be unveiled. Till then we continue to trust God for all the unknowns.

Upcoming Benefit for Laban Ministries

2009-11-03T20:56:00.002-05:00

We ask your prayers for a benefit concert to be held this Thursday, November 5, at 7 p.m.

Jack Smith, our youngest son, will be the featured artist. His wife, Molly, will also join him on a number or two.

The concert is free. The public is invited. Bring your friends.

The 300 foot tower in the heart of Africa broadcasts 7 days a week the great news of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. The radio studio is powered by an 18,000 watt diesel generator. Diesel fuel is purchased 60 miles from the mission campus.

Radio Glory is manned by a national staff of 8 men and women, all graduates of Laban Bible Institute. One amazing phenomenon is that the tower and studio are located in the bush of Africa, 450 miles due east of the country's capital city, Kinshasa. Only the Lord knows how many thousands of souls have been saved through the ministry of Radio Glory or Radio Nkembo as it is known in Congo.

A love offering will be taken to help maintain Laban Ministries and this evangelistic arm of the work there. Come and be a part of this outreach.

Ecole de Femmes

2009-10-25T13:11:00.002-04:00

On Wednesday we took videos and snapshots of the women in our literacy school. I wish you could have seen them singing, sewing, knitting, and reading Scripture for themselves. One of the tough decisions we had to make this month was to hold off taking any more new students because the school does not receive enough outside financial suppo9rt. It breaks my heart to turn the women away. We met with 2nd and
3rd year studnet, but there are no first year students this trimester.

We asked 3 of them to give their testimonies. One young woman said she was in such chains of darkness before coming to school that she felt imprisoned in ignorance. She knew none of the alphabet. She could not write her name nor could she read anything. There was such joy on her face as she spoke of not only her deliverance from pure drudgery and ekking out a physical existence, but also of her new transformation spiritually. She was lost, but now she is found. We stood there in awe of the reality of the Holy Spirit in her life with tear-filled eyes.

Oh Lord, my heart is full of praise for your unfathomable love, for godly professors who literally become mamas to the younger women and loving sisters to the older ones, and for empowering souls to live above the despair of self-abasement and the shroud of hopelessness their circumstances often dictate. Truly, the same dynamos that raised Jesus from the dead has also resurrected them from the bondage of sin and death. II Corinthians 5:17

Out of the darkness into His light

2009-10-23T17:17:00.001-04:00

Some of the evils people in Congo have been delivered from:

the darkness of cannibalism

the darkness of various forms of witchcraft

the darkness of murdering through food poisoning

the darkness of child sacrifice

the darkness of worhiping manure

the darkness of visiting cemeteries to call evil spirits out of dead bodies for protection

the darkness of the myriad faces of idolatry

the darkness of ignorance that paralyzes

the darkness of trying to please the spirits of their ancestors by dancing 3 days straight

the darkness of offering the poison cup to determine guilt or innocence in that person's life

the darkness of believing that sickness and death stem only from the power of evil spirits

Now the mind of the flesh which is sense and reason without the Holy Spirit is death--death that comprises all the miseries arising from sin, both here and hereafter. But the mind of the Holy Spirit is life and soul, peace both now and forevermore. Romans 8:6 amp

Out of the darkness into His light

2009-10-23T17:17:00.000-04:00

Called to Memory

2009-10-21T06:00:00.000-04:00

The rainy season is officially underway in Congo. This means there is little cloud cover and the air can be stagnant with heat from the tropical sun. Since the mission campus is in a valley, it makes it even hotter. With no air conditioning, we can become drenching wet with perspiration in no time. Our elevation is only 1600 feet above sea level.

However, about 4 p.m., a breeze begins to stir at the site of our airstrip. From our house, it takes about 25 minutes to climb what we call Aerobic hill and make our way to the hanger. During our second term here, I often found great solace walking the 3400 foot long strip each afternoon to pray. It is sacred ground to me, as I remember pouring my heart out to God when I missed our children terribly while they were in boarding school 450 miles away. When an evil national pastor tried to have us deported from Congo, when spiritual wars were raging around us.

Over the years while here, I have made it a delightful practice to continue those prayer walks. Recently, as I was praying there, I remembered some incredible events that took place in the '90s. 1993 was the year of great pillaging in Congo. Many missions were ransacked. Their equipment was devoured by rebels. Twenty years worth of our tools were taken, all of Jim's beloved hunting guns were stolen, and basically, anything that could be carried away, was plundered.

1997 was another year to remember. Sitting under the hanger was our little Texas taildragger, an aerobatic 150 that our former mission board procured for us through an insurance agency. That plane has been used to save lives, hold evangelism, drop notes in villages to give them a heads-up of our team coming to preach the Word of God, open the airstrip at Iwungu, and start our second Bible Institute. It is highly treasured by the local population. For miles around, there are no other planes at mission campuses.

One day, a group of pilots flew in from Kinshasa to steal our little yellow "bird." Our plane was in good shape, but not one of those experienced national pilots could get it started. So they decided to burn it. News of their plans spread rapidly. Soon a crowd gathered at the hanger, fell on their knees, and begged the men not to burn that plane. Remarkably, the pilots listened, got back into their own planes, and flew away. When Jim, Todd, and Jack returned to war-torn Congo later on that year, Jim got into the plane and started it up with absolutely no difficulty.

The Lord recapped Israel's downfall in Psalm 78. He gives a running account of His mighty works performed in Egypt, as well as their deliverance from Egypt, and the miracles He performed in the desert. Until He actually slew some of them, they chose not to remember His great acts and continued to show disbelief and rebellion.

When we remember His glorious undertakings, with which He has chosen to pave our paths, we cannot help but be encouraged that He will show the same faithfulness in the future. So I, too..."will tell the praiseworthy deeds of the Lord and His might and the wonderful works that He has performed." Psalm 78:4

Righteous Indignation

2009-10-19T16:11:00.002-04:00

Tonight, after a full day's work, we made the 30 minute drive to Mpene--the village that aggressively resisted Dr. Smith's coming here in 1947 and has strongly fought us since 1979. Three thousand people gathered around two dozen chairs that were set up for us and some of our pastors. The first meeting was supposed to include only the village chiefs of Mpene, the pastors there, and our pastors. Our national director, Gary Kapinga, made introductory remarks. Then I spoke a few words, and Jim stood and reminded them of the seriousness of their offenses two years ago. He was very animated and told them they had better seek Jesus. He asked them why they had sought his blood, and did they not understand that when they attacked the mission campus, people could have been killed? He thanked them for inviting us, but told them that they needed to remember the brevity of their actions. The Congolese tend to just want things to be right and forget their wrongs. They don't really want to acknowledge the damage and consequences of their actions.

Tonight was a night toward reconciliation. We must proceed with caution and give them time to further consider the seriousness of their behavior. Thank you for your prayers. Jesus is the Victor and He will show us how to respond. We were happy to go and return in His name. Please continue to pray because you never know, but God does.

An Historical Day

2009-10-17T11:16:00.003-04:00

Monday, October 19, 2009, will be a first for Laban Ministries, Congo. In 1938, when Dr. and Mrs. Smith arrived here, they were well received at Kajiji, then Iwungu, and finally at Nkara, except for one village. The name of that village is Mpene, and they refused to welcome and embrace the Smiths. So was the case when we came here in 1978. One man, in particular, from that village, has fought our presence here in Congo and has exerted his evil influence on the ministry and his own village of Mpene. We have rocks thrown at us and our evangelism team has been refused admittance in the past.

An uncooperative spirit has prevailed to the point of refusing Campus Crusade--whose policy is not to go anywhere unless the local pastors unanimously invite them to come in--in the '80s. This reprobate "pastor" was in charge of the state-operated high school here on campus. His requirement for the young women to pass their exams was demanding sexual favors from them. He pocketed tuition funds and teachers' salaries and required the students who paid dorm fees, which included a feeding program, to go scrounge for food in the forest. He threatened to cut the heads off of some of our pastors and threatened to poison others with his witchcraft brews. He has ravaged women, cheated the local church, and infiltrated his hatred for us, Laban, and the gospel for decades.

His village has sent five to our Bible Institute, five to our work staff, and has been a menace to the work here at Nkara, and, in general, to this region of Congo. He was defrocked as a pastor by the national Congolese church, but still held tremendous sway through his tribe and the schools in which he continued to be involved.

He was Satan with skin on and he wreaked havoc until this year when he died. To put it in the words of the chief of Mpene, "Satan claimed his worker and now they are together."

Jean Kapinga, wife of our national director Gary Kapinga, is now president of the local women's federation. She was invited to speak to the mamas at Mpene just before we returned to Congo this time. The chief openly apologized with a contrite heart and asked for forgiveness for all the horror that this man had caused us all these years. He then invited our leaders, our evangelism team, and Jim and I to come preach in the village where they want to publicly make their regrets known and ask for forgiveness.

THIS HAS NEVER HAPPENED BEFORE. Since 1947, this village has stood out as an enemy of the gospel of Jesus Christ. In fact, in 2007, they sent a mob here to attack Jim, destroyed much of our Bible school roof, put holes in the church roof, and claimed this must have "a little of Jim's blood." Local soldiers and police from Bulungu were driven in to protect him. He was a prisoner here in his own home for days until the village of Mpene and its sister village, Mibere, were dealt with by the local authorities. They were told that if they ever again posed a threat to Nkara or Jim, their villages would be burned to the ground. The real truth is, the troops wanted to burn the villages of Mpene and Mibere right then, but Jim said no. He remembered how devastating our home fire was to our family. If God opens the door, no man can shut it.

Please pray as we go in Jesus' victorious name. Amen.

New Lab Tech at Nkara

2009-10-14T06:00:00.000-04:00

I just met with our new lab tech and was so excited I had to share the good news with you. In all our history here at Nkara, never have we had a more capable lab technician because they are hard to come by, and we would prefer that they know the Word of God. Kilasi, a graduate of Laban, has just finished specialty school in Kikwit. He managed to pay for his three years of training on his own. Now that is an accomplishment in Congo.

Kilasi has always been a bright spot. Remembered by professors as an energetic go-getter, he is of inestimable value at our dispensary. In the bush, or the nseki where we live, he will be one of a kind for miles around. Three years ago, during one of our pastoral reunions, I ran into Kilasi in the valley and asked him what he was doing. My heart beat rapidly when he told me he was in training to be a lab tech. It will take about $1500 to equip him to run a good lab. He gave me a long list of needed items, including a microscope, a diabetes tester, and an expensive machine that performs various blood tests. When he is set up, we will be able to give pregnancy tests, tests for malaria, AIDS, diabetes, Tb, and typhoid, to name a few. The long-awaited day has come, though we can't afford to pay him eveb the small salary he will earn to begin with, the truth of the matter is, we cannot afford not to.

Join in praying for the funds to buy all the equipment in Kinshasa week after next, which will revolutionize our ability to care for the local population.

Mbila

2009-10-13T10:47:00.002-04:00

Friday morning after chapel, Marie Aza (director of our Women's Literacy Center), Jean Kapinga (wife of the national director of Laban Congo), and I went to the village of Mbila. Last Sunday morning as Jim and I started up Aerobic Hill, we were met by seven women carrying a stalk of bananas. A stalk holds up to twelve bunches of bananas. It weighed close to 70 pounds and was about four and a half feet long. Wanting to console us in the loss of our two grandbabies, they made the long seven mile trek by foot, carrying that heavy stalk all the way. I had chosen Romans 11:33-36 and the entire twelfth chapter to share with the policemen's wives at the local sheriff's office. So a few days later, the ladies visited us. I decided to teach them this portion of Scripture as well. Radio Glory gave them a heads-up regarding our arrival.

As we approached the church, we heard the milolo in greeting us. The women cupped their hands over their mouths to show their excitement as they screamed. All but one corner of the roof of the church was covered with tin. Large tree branches composed the walls and connected to the roof. The "pews" were made of logs. In the front was a small table draped with Africa cloth and decked with beautiful flower bouquets. Pastor Hosea started the singing and the crowd gathered quickly. Soon we were underway. It turned out to be a regular church service and I was touched by their rapt attention. Their hunger for the Word of God is astounding.

Out of the 90 present, only six had Bibles. We just cannot find Bibles anywhere. I took seven radios, one for each of the women who came to the mission campus. They were overjoyed. Sixteen people made professions. Word spread and in addition to sharing this same portion of Scripture on Radio Glory, for the next two weeks, I will be traveling to Longo, Itwai, and Mbila again. I will be traveling with Mama Marie Aza and Mama Jean again.

Out of all the Lord has done in this region of Bandundu, the greatest and most rewarding that we have been involved with, is exposing the Word of God. It will never return void--no never! Please continue to pray with us!

Their Fervent Prayers

2009-10-12T06:00:00.001-04:00

"The fervent prayers of a righteous man avail much." James 5:16 The Amplified Bible says, "The earnest, heart-felt, continued prayer of a righteous man makes tremendous power available, dynamic in its working."

Tonight special prayers are being offered at the radio studio from 7-9 p.m. The staff will hold up their shield of faith before God and cry out to Him from the depths of their souls. Pastor Masina came by yesterday and asked if he could have a little tea and sugar to serve, and I threw in some rice. Since we are behind in paying our staff, they don't have any food to spare in their homes. It brings tears to my eyes.

He also asked for prayer requests from Jim and me. We gave him fifteen requests, including prayer for our beloved America and our prayer partners and donors. So, by the time you read this, know that intercessory prayer has wafted its way up to the throne of the Almighty God on your behalf.

My mind's eye goes back to our first term out here when our Bible school was just beginning. I can't tell how many all night prayer meetings were held. Jim and I would try to last for several hours and then we fell into bed. What a beautiful sound we heard as we woke up to their rich rendering of hymns, sounds from way down deep. Prayer is as natural to them as breathing. It is their sustenance, their strength, their joy.

Often we have called the leadership here for one emergency or another while in America, or they have been aware of critical needs while we were stateside. They would snap to as if they were in the military, call an all night prayer meeting in the building we call the "white house," and fast and pray for three days without even drinking water.

Congo is a hardship post. The American Embassy found it extremely challenging in the '70s and '80s to get employees from America to stay here for two years. Four years was the limit. The country is in much worse shape today than it was then. I shudder to think what life would be out here without all those prayers down through the years.

What a pleasing aroma they must be to God. I remember in those early days waking up in the night to their beautiful singing and feeling so safe. Then I would fall right back to sleep.

Their precious offerings are kept in bottles and recorded in one of the Lord's books. Only He knows how many pages they fill. Thank you, Lord, for people who really have a handle on life. Next to my husband, they are my heroes.

Samedi

2009-10-09T09:34:00.002-04:00

Samedi means Saturday in French. Some of the names people choose to give their children here in Congo just crack me up. Some favorites are safety pin, jealousy, cursed, hot pepper, mischief, and bone.

Samedi is a man in his thirties, I believe, though he has no birth certificate, no mom or dad, and no siblings. Their is no way of knowing his true age, especially since the Congolese tend not to show their age. He roams the mission campus and has no bed of his own to sleep in. Various families have tried to take him in, despite the fact that he would be one more mouth to feed in their already hard-pressed circumstances. But Samedi stays nowhere more than a day or two. He is what we might call a simpleton. Repetitious and unkempt, he has to be told to take a bath and wash his clothes. However, his mild manners and sweet spirit win you over every time. He is also a very hard worker and as strong as an ox.

Tonight, when we were calling America, he appeared on the scene and told Jim he hadn't eaten all day. So when we finished, we all walked down Aerobic hill (I love coming, just not going up!) and we ran into another staff member, Lobo. We gave them a large can of sardines, half a loaf of freshly baked bread, and four bananas.

Samedi's intelligence limits him academically and socially, but not spiritually. Psalm 19:7 in the Amplified Bible says, "The law of the Lord is perfect, restoring the whole person; the testimony of the Lord is sure MAKING WISE THE SIMPLE." So Samedi is able to be wise spiritually because God is not impressed with our intelligence. He is impressed with our hearts. He and the Spirit of God can communicate freely; and, though he may not articulate his thoughts in a rational fashion with people, he can know true wisdom from the Father. I love it that the Lord has all of Samedi's bases covered. I love it that He is the Way-maker. He goes far beyond our limitations and brick walls we come up against and frees our spirit to adore Him. Truly, isn't that going to be a big part of our work in heaven--adoring Him?

Oh, Samedi, the best is yet to come, and you are in for such an amazing awakening. You will sit with the throng from ages past and the Ancient of Days at the marriage supper of the Lamb. I can't wait to see you in your glorified body. Till then, we will do our best here at Nkara to see that you are taken care of and enjoy some of the dignity you deserve because you are a valued and beloved creation of God.

Exciting News!

2009-10-08T12:43:00.009-04:00

We received news today that a supporter of the ministry is willing to match all new contributions to Laban Ministries up to $5000 until the end of October! This is an opportunity to make your gift to your brothers and sisters in Congo go twice as far. We have the convenience of accepting funds through Paypal on the ministry's website which you can link to right here: www.labanministries.org. If you would prefer to make your donation through the mail, please earmark your gift for the October Matching Fund for Laban. The address is:

Laban Ministries Int'l

P. O. Box 5133

Dearborn, MI 48128

We so wish we could transport you to the bush here in the Congo. The landscape is breathtakingly beautiful--lush green and tropical. But the needs would break your heart as you watched so many suffer with so few resources. One day those of us who believe in Jesus Christ will praise Him around the throne. The gift you give today will have eternal impact. You may never meet those you help on earth, but one day, you will witness when God Himself wipes away the tears of the Congolese.

"Then I saw a new heaven and a new earth, for the first heaven and the first earth had passed away, and there was no longer any sea. I saw the Holy City, the new Jerusalem, coming down out of heaven from God, prepared as a bride beautifully dressed for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from the throne saying, "Now the dwelling of God is with men, and he will live with them. They will be his people, and God himself will be with them and be their God. He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away."
Revelation 21:1-4

Worthy is the Lamb who was slain for us!

A Glory Day

2009-10-07T09:05:00.004-04:00

Yesterday was a glory day. We rose at 4:40 a.m., after loading the car with supplies and picking up our travelers, we were off to Bulungu, the local government center. Nkara is in the district of Bulungu, in the province of Bandundu.

Bulungu is the kind of town you can spend a week in in one night. Various and sundry "tax-collectors" come from Bulungu to attempt to levy some sort of fine on the mission here. They usually visit Nkara only when we are here, figuring that our presence equates to money. As mentioned in the past, two of our graduates minister to the police. They travel many miles on foot each month. God is doing amazing things through His word in and to the policemen and their wives. We decided to visit the large group of men and women in Bulungu, look them in the eye, share our testimony and the Scriptures, and watch the Lord work. The 30 miles took us 2 1/2 hours one way, over dirt roads, which led us to the Kwilu River. We made our crossing in an oversized raft, driven by a diesel-generated tugboat. Hand-dug tree canoes fight the strong current of the massive Kwilu for those who choose not to take the raft. To my mind returned the vivid memory of our family crossing the crocodile-infested river years ago in one of those crude canoes when the ferry was not working.

Everyone got out of the car and the driver eased our vehicle onto the ferry. We followed and reached the other side uneventfully. A half hour later, we arrived at the post and received a royal welcome.

About 200 policemen and their wives listened intently as Pastor Ezekiel from Psalm 2:1-12 and Jim shared the story of the forty wrestlers. I spoke from Romans 11:33-36 and Romans 12:1 to the wives. 90 men and women put their hands over their hearts to signal their acceptance of Jesus Christ. The Major is a Christian and begged us to come back. Their animated singing and infectious enthusiasm delighted our hearts. The Lord's heart had to be moved as well.

After the service we were ushered into the modest headquarters and served Cokes and cherry and orange sodas. The Major then begged us for Bibles and radios. He acknowledged his observance that poverty-stricken are we if we feed only our physical bodies and fail to feed our souls. His words refreshed us like cool springs on a blistery-hot day.

Pastor Ezekiel knows these men well because he was one of them for years, while his wife prayed faithfully for his salvation. He met Jesus and graduated from our Bible Institute. He vividly recalls the atrocities commonly practiced by the police and soldiers in Congo, so his burden for them is sincere. Yesterday he told me how unreceptive they were at first. Now he and Pastor Hosea are well-received. The men and women have learned many of the Christian songs and sing them with vigor. One big change among the leadership of the police these days is the forbidding of beating a person, guilty or not guilty, and ravaging the women after robbing the men. Instead, they bring to their offices only those they think are guilty and do not proceed with a punishment until after they have prayed for wisdom. He said this is all so new to the police. "We preach the Word of God and then we just keep adding more and more to what we have taught them. Eventually, we see change."

We had no money in the budget for bikes for Ezekiel and Hosea, but we bought bikes anyway at a cost of $230. Who in the world could look them in the eye, pat them on the back, wish them God's speed, and expect them to simply keep walking to Bulungu and the other posts every month.

Pray that the government with be open to the powerful gospel of Jesus Christ by allowing us to minister to the police division. Amen!

I Walked Today Where Jesus Walked

2009-10-05T06:00:00.000-04:00

Why is God's presence so real out here in the bush of Africa? Why is He so evident? Why do I sense Him so fully and freely?

For more than 30 years now, Jim and I have had the rather unique privilege of living in two worlds--America and Congo. We travel from a world of high tech sophistication, wealth, affluence, unparalleled educational opportunities and a sense of entitlement to a world of abject poverty, filth, unbelievable corruption in the government. There is absolutely no governmental infrastructure and heightened suffering. Yet the presence of God is so embracing and enveloping. Why? I have been pondering this reality over the past three weeks since our arrival.

Tonight it dawned on me: GOD LOVES THE POOR! Now that's not the only reason. Millions of poor people live in Kinshasa and that city is one of the darkest places in the world. But poverty is definitely a factor here. Another factor is the wealth of their faith and the prices paid to exercise that kind of faith. Nkara (our mission station) is holy ground. This valley, surrounded by a horse-shoe shaped hill, was a center for ceremonial cannibalism and child-sacrifice until the 1940s. Then God sent a vibrant, sold-out, Spirit-filled couple by the name of Laban and Marcella Smith, and through the power of the gospel they preached, 10,000 men and women were delivered from the despair and hopelessness of their abounding sin known in the Bayanzi tribe.

That same power kept the Bayanzis from joining in the civil war when it started in the 1960s. Their salvation meant so much to them that they refused to allow anyone to pillage this campus. Their beloved pioneer missionaries, Laban and Marcella, enriched the African soil through the offering of their bodies through death. They are both buried in Kikwit. On the hill where Laban Bible Institute stands was the first church made up of palm fronds. A ritualistic spilling of blood by killing sons of royalty, who were then eaten, as well the horrific infant sacrifices by holding the babies over hot coals, cutting them up, and eating them, have been replaced by a training center whose heart beats for evangelism.

The legacy handed down to us is sobering. It is a legacy of sacrifice, dedication, putting one's hands to the plow, and never looking back, tireless evangelism, and thrilling to the privilege of serving the God of the universe. How could the Lord not be real here? How could His presence not be so palpable? He is the most dynamic force at Nkara. He has to be. With no hospital, no capable doctors, no way out of here by plane after nightfall due to the lack of VOR's here in the bush, we are desperate for Him. We have control over nothing--and He loves that. Because He then can be "our strength, our personal bravery, our invincible army, and He can make our feet like hinds' feet and will make us to walk--and not stand still in terror--but to walk and make spiritual progress upon our HIGH PLACES of trouble, suffering, or responsibility." Habakkuk 3:19

Praise the Lord!

Pastor from Ilebo

2009-10-03T16:44:00.003-04:00

Congo is an incredible land of opportunity for ministry. Our staff meets at the chapel on campus every morning at 7:30. Today my husband, Jim, introduced a pastor from the town of Ilebo (ee-lay-bo). No one knew he was coming. He stood and proudly reminded us that he graduated from Laban Bible Institute six years ago. He was a man of distinct features, medium stature, and slight build, enthusiastically inviting our evangelism team to hold an outreach in his town.

He spoke of the cults there, people steeped in darkness and despair, a town laden with witchdoctors and evil. Underneath his enthusiastic exterior was a man needing encouragement and a helping hand. I wondered how many nights he lay in bed praying safety and protection for his family from the evil surrounding him. How many times had he prayed for deliverance from any kind of food poisoning that the witchdoctors may have tried to pass on to him. What kind of chains had he had to trust Christ to break just to free his mind from the overpowering oppression of being outnumbered by the dark abode of wicked spirits dwelling there?

I asked him how he came. "Well," he said, "I took a boat, then I took a truck, and then I walked the rest of the way", which could have been as far as fifty kilometers or thirty miles. He asked Jim for a Bible. We had only one left in the Kituba language. I walked inside the house and ran upstairs to get him a little money as well. How much should I give him, Lord? How much can I spare? There are so many needs out here. Lord, show me, please. My eyes fell on 25,000 francs. I was at peace with that. In our money, that amounts to $29.76. Lord, you know this is so meager, but you can multiply it. Do that Lord, please!

I returned with the Bible and the small gift and he beamed. Because the Lord loves the Lord so much, I will do the same. I asked the Lord to bless him and return him all the way back the 400 kilometers (240 miles) he traveled here, just to invite us to his church.

What an honor to see the fruit of our labor, Lord, thank You!

Mawa...Mpenza!

2009-10-01T09:38:00.005-04:00

"Mawa"...the word means "sorrow"--brokenhearted. "Mpenza" means "deeply, really, truly, to a great extent"

Today was a day of great, deep, extensive sorrow. Why? Because one of our staff, Mupia, whose name by the way means "twin," lost his twenty-something year old daughter. He came to work to give us a hand because we have missionary guests from Kinshasa. Jim drove him to his home about 4 p.m., only to find out that his daughter had just died. She waited and waited and waited before seeking help to deliver her second baby. The first baby died at birth. Unable to deliver by herself, when labor came on strong, the village women came to her aid to no avail.

Finally, with no more options, she went to the local state-operated clinic, where horror stories are heard all the time. She could not go on any longer so the "doctor" gave her a C-section, and her uterus ruptured. The baby was already dead.

Pastor Mboma told me that hers is the fifth death in two months of women receiving a C-section at that clinic. I listened in shock as he told me, "Sometimes C-sections are performed with razor blade and a flashlight." Think of it! Five women have lost their lives, perhaps needlessly.

It was just such a death that occurred at our airstrip with a women named Shindani that made us decide that we must have a hospital here. Shindani waited for three day, while in intensive labor, before the villagers brought her to us. Jim, my husband, was fueling the little Cessna 150 to take her to the medical mission of Vanga, he heard the death wail. Her mother was flailing her arms in disbelief that there, before her very eyes, her daughter passed from this life into the next.

We have two young men training to be doctors in Lumbumbashi, but it will be another three years before one of them will return to the local population's rescue. How many more women will die from childbirth before he returns?

We visited Mupia in his village. His face was swollen from crying. My heart breaks for his family. Please pray for them. We attended the funeral for his daughter and grandchild. I watched as they lowered the wee casket into the ground next to the baby's mother. It was a little boy. Oh, what great sorrow...mawa...mpenza!

Police/Soldier's Wives

2009-09-24T12:14:00.002-04:00

Each morning our staff meets in the room we call a chapel, which is the old Bible Institute building we used 30 years ago. Kade, a rather recent graduate of LBI, preaches each morning at 7:40 a.m. after the men and women sing songs of praise and inviet Jesus to be the center of our day. His strong, loud, admonishing tone can be heard from our front porch. Kade suffers from serious deafness which amazingly affects his speech only slightly.

After chapel, Pastor Hosea, whose left pupil is covered with an opaque scar, ran up to me and asked if I was going to see the mamas of the police/soldiers who serve our area. They live about two miles away. My first response was No. I didn't feel prepared. I would go next week. As quickly as I said that, I changed my mind. The women are a new group. Their husbands change locations every year or two. They are hungry to hear the Word of God. I decided to go.

I spoke out of Malachi 1 and explained how the deceptive, sick, blind and stolen animals the priests allowed the people to sacrifice to God made God very angry. I told them how serious it is to make a vow to God to give Him something that has cost us a great price, only to change horses in the middle of the stream, and offer that which has cost us little. Instead of a life consecrated to Him, a life spent in self-seeking, self-indulgence, self-gratification. Instead of transparency, a lying tongue, a proud look, a double-mindedness. Instead of singleness of mind and heart, duplicity.

We don't offer animal sacrifices anymore. The sacrifice the Lord is looking for from us is a contrite heart, the real deal, letting our "nay" be "nay" and our "yea" by "yea." On the way home, Pastor Hosea and Pastor Ezekiel begged me to consider traveling with them and Jim to Bulungu. A group of 150 police/soldiers and their wives equaling 120, are pleading for us to go and minister to them. I asked how long it would take. They said, "Well, when we walk there, it takes us a whole day."

They didn't see the tears flooding my heart for their incredible endurance. The tears for the price they are paying to serve Christ. The tears over them spending themselves in 90-100 degree temps so that JEsus can break through strongholds of an occupation of men who used to steal from innocent victims in order to put some food on the table for their families. You see, the government only pays them $10 a month, when and if they get paid. But these groups of men and women are changing under the ministry of pastors Ezekiel and Hosea.

I just sat there numbly, the perspiration dripping down my face and had to ask myself, "How much does my Christianity cost me?" Oh God, why do these pastors have to walk so far? They have worn out their bikes for Your sake. Why must they go on foot? Something is wrong with this picture. Why, Lord?" Once again, I have no answers. My trust is in You, God. Help them, please help me.

Gas Bomb Project Turned Evangelistic

2009-09-19T15:23:00.002-04:00

In the bush of Congo, electricity is not automatic. In order to have lights, one needs a gas or diesel generator plus fuel for the generator, either gas or diesel. The price for a 55 gallon drum of diesel fuel can cost as much as $365. Currently, the price is about $250. For home use, we have a gas generator. A barrel of gas provides one week of electricity for about eight hours a day. It's obviously expensive. Who in America has to pay $250 a week for their lights that come on for such a short duration each day? But there are no other options, and eight hours provides the ability to use tools, wash clothes, read books, entertain, run the DVD player, enjoy light, and keep us from going insane in the dark.

However, eight hours a day is not long enough to run appliances, such as our fridge and freezer, so we must purchase a propane tank for those. These tall gas "bombs" as we call them weigh 190 lbs. each filled. Each provides us with six weeks of use for one appliance. Four appliances run off these bombs, including our hot water heater, stove, fridge, and freezer, and each bomb costs $175 to fill. So for six weeks, that total is $700. This doesn't include the price of transporting them on MAF planes into the interior. Next time you look at your utility bill, thank God you do not have to pay what we do.

The gas bombs are available only in the capital city of Kinshasa, 450 miles from our mission campus. Last week, Jim went with a few of our staff to pay for and arrange for the bombs to be delivered to the MAF hanger to be transported. After the men had loaded the bombs, Jim asked the men if there were to be an accident on the way to the airport, where would these men go if they died? Some said they would go to hell; others didn't know. By the end of the conversation Jim and Pastor Mboma had with them, all six of them asked Jesus Christ into their lives. Then they clapped their hands and gave a thumbs up. To Pastor Mboma, the clapping of the hands showed that the men were sincere.

Ministry opportunities abound out here. We are now living at our mission campus of Nkara-Ewa. Last night we called America on the hill up near the hill by the dispensary on our cell phones. What a beautiful sight as we rode the Artic Cat again back down to our mission to see our home all lit up. It was such a stark contrast to the pitch black darkness all around us. No denying that life resides in this home. May there be no denying that the light of Christ resides in our minds, souls, and bodies as well.

Thank You , Lord, for electricity in the bush!

From the back seat . . .

2009-09-17T06:32:00.008-04:00

I've spent the last 3 days shopping for goods to take into the "bush" of Congo, Africa, where our mission campus is located. There are no malls in Kinshasa, the capital, so every store has its own product, making shopping a challenge and an all-day, many-day event. From the back seat of the little car that Matondo, the driver navigates, I have plenty of time to take in my surroundings. He eases/jerks through lanes of slow-moving vehicles on "highways" and side streets built in the late forties, totally incapable of handling today's increased population.

Windows are kept rolled up, and doors are locked as refugees, beggars, and vendors walk freely on the boulevard and side streets, dodging traffic everywhere to make their presence known, in hopes of selling their wares in order to take a few Congo francs home with them in the evening. The physically and mentally handicapped are always nearby as well, crawling or squawking for help. Poverty abounds. Rotting trash lines the street shoulders. Hundreds of people pass on foot, many looking for work of any type to help ease their family's financial burdens.

I must distance myself from the shops where the goods we want are located because my white skin means a higher price for products normally costing less when purchased by the Congolese. While waiting for our pastors to find the best prices and buy the supplies, I have only to glance out of my window to view an assortment of products for sale carried by men and women, such as brooms, watches, soap, shirts, pants, jewelry, rat poison (that's a biggie for the bush where rats abound), shoes, and almost anything else one can imagine, even toilet bowl cleaner, waffles, hot dogs (who knows how long they've been exposed to the tropical sun?), toothbrushes, and whatever. You get the idea. These are for the bidding. A negotiated price is expected. It never remains the price suggested by the vendor. Thank God the temps have been in the 70's and low 80's, so perspiration is not at a drowning level.

Millions are without work. Hundreds rise each morning with some francs in their pockets from the previous day's sales. They scramble to buy goods from the stores downtown and then hand carry their purchases to resell them at a little bit higher cost. Hopefully, they will gain enough that day to feed their family supper and perhaps even make an installment on their children's "public school" tuition, since there are no free public schools in Congo. The tuition charges goes toward paying the teachers, whether it be grade school, middle school, or high school.

Times are hard in America, but they have always been hard in Congo. Now they are even harder. People are starving. Many are homeless. Others live in squalor. Most are born and die in obscurity; and, though they appear to be in the category of the "least" as Jesus called them, they are acknowledged throughout Scripture again and again. In fact, as you may recall, Jesus says that whatever we do unto the least of these, we actually show kindness to Him.

I have comforted my sad heart regarding their perilous condition, the despair in their faces, and the pain and agony on the countenances of the mamas who carry their babies on their backs looking for help with the words of the psalmist who says that it won't always be this way for the poor. Psalm 22:26 declares that they will one day eat and be satisfied. Not now necessarily, but one day. Men are dying from the stress of leaving their children in their homes hungry day after day as they seek employment which is just not to be had in Congo these days. So the fathers are literally dropping dead from the horror of watching their children starve according to Pastor Kanzila, one of our graduates who ministers in Kinshasa. But "the Lord hears the poor and needy and despises not His prisoners (His miserable and wounded ones). So our hope is that He will relieve them of their suffering one way or another; many times it is through death out here because of the lack of medical care facilities and/or no money to pay for health care of any kind.

I am reminded as I continue to watch abject poverty in my face of our meager efforts to help our staff physically with a small salary and other goods as God provides through you in America. Those efforts pale in comparison to what we aggressively attempt to offer them through the Word of God, specifically through the Gospel, and then further training in the Word of God by means of our Bible Institutes. It helps me breathe a sigh of temporary relief because if they are in the Beloved, relief and deliverance are on their way. But oh the suffering they experience in the now! Unfathomable unless you smell it, taste it, hear it, and touch it for yourselves. And even though I do all of that--smell, taste, hear, and touch it, it is still unfathomable. Psalm 131 becomes my refuge once again in dealing with the afflicted. It says, "Lord, my heart is not haughty, nor my eyes lofty; neither do I exercise myself in matters too great or in things too wonderful for me. Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul; like a weaned child with his mother, like a weaned child is my soul within me ceased from fretting.

We cannot allow ourselves to fret. We just can't. Fretting leads to sin, and sin is equivalent to distrust. It's telling the Lord He is not doing a good enough job of this business of keeping everyone fed or whatever we may be personally facing in our lives that is beyond our grasp. There are no answers to the plight of the Congolese. I once again choose to rest in Him and remember that the "least" are of great worth in the Lord's eyes. He considers them precious cargo awaiting their flight to the comforts and splendor of Heaven.

God values the poor so much that the first 3 verses of Psalm 41 state that He handsomely rewards those who find like value in the poor. "Blessed, to be envied, is he who considers the weak and the poor; the Lord will deliver him in the time of evil and trouble. The Lord will protect him and keep him alive; he shall be called blessed in the land; and You will not deliver him to the will of his enemies. The Lord will sustain, refresh, and strength him on his bed off languishing; all his bed You O Lord will turn, change, and transform in his illness."

Wow! I want to be one of those You call blessed, one of those you protect and deliver because of the way I respond to the poor in my life. I happen to know some of those "least" who will be in your Hall of Fame, Lord. Their day is coming, Father. You will esteem them publicly, and they will no longer be pressed into the wall of despair by their lack. Bless Your Holy Name! You have it all figured out! I will rest in You.

Begging to hear. . . An amazing opportunity

2009-08-15T23:43:00.004-04:00

Today we live in an era of exclusivity, choices, entitlement, prosperity, incredibly sophisticated hi tech, and advanced medical options and treatment, to name a few. This era's personality is intertwined with hope on one side and apathy on the other. Because we are surrounded by opulence compared to third world countries, and because many of us have only experienced what we have seen, touched, and tasted, we cannot easily relate to the realities that exist in other lands.

One such reality that renders an amazing opportunity is the hunger for the gospel in Congo. Like America, people in Congo are desperate for Jesus, and they know it; unlike Congo, people in America are desperate for Jesus, but they do not know how desperate they really are. I would rather work with people in the first category because there are far fewer barriers to break through than the latter.

Just this week, Pastor Kapem N'Koy called my husband, Jim, and told him that many many surrounding villagers near Iwungu are literally begging the evangelism team there to come and share the Gospel and the Word of God with them. They are crying out for spiritual help.

Let me tell you that when our evangelism team goes into a village, it is cause for GREAT CELEBRATION! People come running out of their huts with hands waving in the air to greet, welcome, and rejoice with dancing at their arrival. Bodies surround the truck, eagerly anticipating the joyous break in the monotony of village life. As the team exits the large x-military vehicle, the guitars, drum set, fuel, generator, food, tents, video projector, and other supplies are carefully unloaded and set up to prepare for the evening gathering. Our team of ten pastors/musicians start cranking out the songs which attract thousands to come from as far away as the music can be heard.

There are several videos that can be shown, but the favorite is The Jesus Film, which is shown after the music and the preaching of the Word of God. So by the time the invitation is given, 4 to 5 hours have passed. Small pieces of paper are handed out as people raise their hands to accept Christ. As those people proceed to make their way to the front of the crowd, they are ushered to another area, either a hut or some other building, to be dealt with individually. So let' do a recap:

First the music program (30-45 minutes, then preaching (about an hour), then the Jesus Film (3 hours in the Kituba language with some interpretation for those who only speak the tribal dialect), then the invitation (20 minutes), and then one-on-one counseling to ascertain understanding what the individual is coming forward for, which could mean a total of 5 1/2 hours. Does the crowd dwindle? No. Do people complain? Not usually. Do they want more? Always.

Do you see what I mean by an amazing opportunity? Congo isn't America. They have no distractions in the bush comparable to what we have here in America. They know how much they need the Savior and how much they need the hope that the Word of God affords them.

Of course, it takes money to do all this. Missionaries don't get their fuel for free cause they're missionaries; we pay the same amount as the corporate world pays. A total of $2000 is needed to feed our team, fuel our trucks, and visit several villages for an extensive period of time. Please join us in prayer for this great outreach possibility.

You can go vicariously through us on September 11, when we depart Detroit for Chicago, then on to Washington Dulles, then on to Johannesburg, South Africa for an overnight stay, and then on to Kinshasa for a few days, after which we board the Mission Aviation Plane to fly into the bush of Congo, a land ripe for the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Help us find that ripened fruit that is waiting to be harvested for the Kingdom of Jesus Christ. Souls are one thing we can take to Heaven with us. Help us do the picking in Jesus' powerful Name!

He just needed to hear our voice. . .

2009-07-08T14:49:00.010-04:00

We just received a call from Congo. Pastor Gary Kapinga, National Director, dear friend, brother, counsellor, daily cross bearer, coworker, downright beloved by us, called us on his cell phone minutes ago.

That just cracks me up. Years ago, a cell phone call would never have happened. It's a strange wonder these days.

He called to tell us everything is okay in Congo.

He wants to know when we are coming back. . . we promised August, thinking it would be good to get back then. . .

Thinking the Lord would want us to return sooner than later. . .

Hoping that despite the sluggish (understatement) economy would not prevent us from returning because concerned individuals who love Laban might be in a position to help us out as they have in the past. . .

Thinking of how much healthier it is to return again after 4 months than to wait a whole year or a good portion of the year. . .

That still may happen. We have lived by the undergirding miracles of the Holy One through 40 years of ministry. We believe God's arm is not shortened that He cannot save and that His ears are not deafened to dullness that He cannot hear. . .

In the meantime: we wait--expectantly, anticipatingly, hopefully, and sometimes joyfully.

So to Gary's question and comments: "Are you coming in August? Everything is okay here. Is everything okay there?"--we heard the underlying need for the call. He just needed to hear our voice.

It moves me to think our voice is that important--soothing, comforting, reassuring, vital to his welfare.

And it makes me cry out, Lord, we are so in need of hearing your voice.

Come, visit us.

Speak to us.

Make yourself known to us.

Reassure us.

We can't do this thing called life without you; we can't go to Congo without you; we can't take a breath without your permission.

You say in Zephaniah 3;17 that you are in the midst of us. That in and of itself is absolutely amazing. You are mighty to save. You take great delight in us. You cover us with your love. You rejoice over us with singing.

And though we know this verse to be true experientially in days gone by, the fact of the matter is, today is a new day.

We don't want a day to go by without it. . .

In fact, we don't want much time at all to go by without hearing the comfort of your voice.

Go before us Ancient of Days. You've promised that you will. Go alongside us, Father. Be our rear guard.

Please, Daddy, we just need to hear Your voice.

A new creature. . .

2009-06-21T19:03:00.009-04:00

Gary is the National Director of Laban Ministries in Congo. He resides at Nkara with his second wife, Jean, and their eight children. He oversees our multi tribe staff of 101, deals with the State when they come in to "tax" us, negotiates on our behalf, and has the final word in our absence when it comes to decision making. He is a man of integrity, spirit filled, and walks by the drumbeat of Scripture and a consecrated life.

The following is a historical account of this prized fellow servant of the Lord. I want to share with you the wealth of his transformed life.

As a teenager of very lean stature, Gary earned money by distracting men walking through a particular area of hangout for him and his friends near his village. When the targeted individual passed by, Gary caught his attention by harassing him and calling him names. As the victim neared the secluded gang members, Gary annoyed his prey to the point of being chased by him, leading the unsuspecting person right to the gang in the tall grass. The victim was then attacked, and whatever possessions he may have been carrying were stolen. This is how he eked out an existence until he became notoriously known in the area.

From his village of Gombe, this teen-aged man from the Bawongo Tribe, made the 130 mile trek to Kikwit, a city of 1,000,000 people to make a decent living. In 1978, Mrs. Marcella Smith, wife of the late Dr. Laban Smith, was shopping in Kikwit for supplies while staying at the guesthouse, an extension of which was built by her husband in the 40's, which served as his dental office. Mrs. Smith, Jim's mother, had just returned to Congo to precede us and help us get settled into missionary life at Nkara. This was October; we left for Congo on Dec 4 that same year.

Gary was assisting Solomon, the cook at the guesthouse. Mrs. Smith asked Gary to help her with her shopping as she looked for large items like a refrigerator, mattresses, stove, etc. After several days of traveling with him at her side, they struck up a friendship, and one night in the guesthouse she introduced Gary to the Savior. Marcella Smith left a note which Solomon gave us months later when we arrived at that same guesthouse, urging us to consider Gary as a potential worker because he always gave her the correct change and was so kind to her while she was in Kikwit. His transformation was underway! He had become a new creature in Christ Jesus.

On November 14, 1978, Mrs. Smith went to be with the Lord at Nkara, a distance of 60 miles from Kikwit, where she and Dr. Smith had ministered together from 1947 to 1953. She died in what is now Jim's office as she was leaning over her bed. In March of 1979 we arrived at Kikwit only to find Gary still working there and very willing to help us adjust. After six weeks in Kikwit, we made our way to Nkara and Gary became a beloved member of our family. Gary "grew up" in our home with our own children, spending as much as twelve hours a day with us. The only two phrases Nancy could muster at first were masa ya madidi, masa ya tiya, meaning cold water and hot water, buckets of which were carried upstairs for daily bathing. Gary saw Nancy's pain, culture shock, and pregnant state and was a great help to her.

In the summer of 1979, Gary was imprisoned. The local "pastor" Mapungu, an infidel and reprobate whom Mrs. Smith had taught English, falsely accused him of fathering a child with a single girl on the mission station. Gary was taken to Bulungu, put in chains in his cell, and tortured for no reason. After two months of unjust punishment, he was released without bond and walked the 60-mile trip back home to Nkara. We can still see our children running across the valley to hug him and welcome him home.

Late that fall, Gary returned to Combe to find a wife. Suzanne had never seen a white person in her life. He brought her to our home soon after their wedding to introduce her to us. She had the look of electric shock on her face and was extremely shy. One year later, they lost their first baby. In all, Gary and Suzanne lost five children, among them twin boys. Their beloved Diana died in 1995 of Hepatitis B at the age of seven.

Then in 1997, after suffering from liver cancer resulting from Hepatitis B, Gary lost the love of his life. By this time Suzanne and Gary had become a strong team. She did all the cooking and gathering of food for the Bible school students who lived on campus at Nkara. She was Nancy's good friend. Whatever job she was given, one could be sure it would be done. Often, she would come to our house to say "hi," and there in our kitchen, Gary would wrap his arms around her and say, "Nothing will ever separate us but death." When Gary lost Suzanne, we all lost. . . a wonderful friend and partner in ministry. Gary spent many hours on his knees begging God to let her live. In Congo, the person who is in the last stages of life is seldom told the truth by the medical personnel who deal with each case. They are sadly given false hope, and the family is left unprepared for death.

Finally, Gary realized that she was not going to make it. After burying their premature twin boys, Gary hired a truck to take Suzanne back to her village to die, which is the cultural custom in Congo. The truck took them most of the way, and then he and friends carried her on a stretcher-like apparatus on the road for miles because the truck they had ridden took another route. At one point they stopped, and in great pain and agony without the relief of pain killers, she made him promise to take care of their children alongside a dusty, remote road with unbearable heat pouring down on them. Then her spirit and soul fled like a dove into the courts of heaven, never to suffer or sorrow again. Heartbroken, Gary returned to Nkara. How we longed to have been there with them in those final hours. However, Nancy's father at the time was dying here in the States, and our first grandchild was born.

The Lord provided another woman for Gary from Gombe to love him. Jean is also a gift from God. She has been a wondrful asset to Gary, his children, and the ministry.

Gary Kapinga graduated from Laban Bible Institute, and has been directing the work in Congo for many years. His two oldest boys, James and Todd, are now in university. James is studying at Lumbumbashi to be a medical doctor, Todd in Kinshasa to be an engineer. Shines Peace graduated high school this year, and Caleb is in middle school. Gary and jean have four children of their own. He has remained faithful under excruciating pain and rejection of tribalism. He has defended the faith and Laban Ministries in Congo. He is totally trustworthy. He knows our sense of humor and is fun to be around. He is a great husband and father. He has lovingly and justly dealt with staff who have defied his leadership because he is an outsider. No matter what is set in front of Gary, he chooses to sing Hallelujah. He praises God through every storm. He is a hero of the faith. He is the man of God's choice for the hour. He is a marvelous trophy of God's grace. And best of all, he is our true friend and brother.

Just today we talked with Gary. He told me to thank America for your faithful support of Laban Ministries because it means that he along with 100 other men and women are able to serve the Lord Jesus Christ in Africa at Nkara, Iwungu, and Kinshasa. Your monthly gifts help us pay these awesome people who are so rich in faith and glow with the sunshine of heaven on their faces. Your participation with us in the Gospel translates into producing fruit like Gary. Your gifts are being harvested in transformed lives that lay hold of eternal life and anchor themselves steadfast and sure in scripture. God bless you for keeping us and our family in Congo on the move for Jesus' sake.

You are creating hope for the Bandundu Province of Congo by enabling more than 500 graduates of Laban Bible Institute to evangelize an area the size of Michigan. On any given Sunday, more than 57,000 men and women meet to worship our Majesty, the Lord Jesus Christ. There's a big introduction awaiting you in heaven to these redeemed souls because of your obedience in getting the gospel out to this far-flung battlefield of the world. Amen and Hallelujah!

The plans of the heart. . .

2009-06-16T09:12:00.009-04:00

In our sight, our plans are good. At the moment, those plans include a trip to the Democratic Republic of Congo in August. The staff of 101 nationals who rank from sentinels (watchmen) at the houses, airport, radio station, dispensary, new hospital site, and Cell B (a small warehouse of supplies, including a container where diesel fuel and gasoline are stored) to cooks for the Bible institute dorm students, professors, radio journalists as they are called in Congo, pastors, students themselves at the Bible institute as well as the Women's Literacy Center, masons, carpenters, grass cutters, and more, are eagerly waiting for our promised (by faith) return.

Some in America may question our coming and going to Africa. Why don't we just stay out there? It's expensive to go back and forth. But the majority of people with whom we come in contact understand that the phrase "out of sight, out of mind" truly applies to our situation. There must be continual representation in the US to expose, fund raise, proclaim the great things God is doing there, and promote this multi-faceted work we call Laban Ministries. If we were to go out and stay in the bush with no internet and the other disadvantages of long absences, soon the support level would drop. It takes eye balling people, personal communication, phone calls, special handwritten notes, banquets, smaller venue events, DVD and video exposure in homes, maintaining relationships with donors, and maintaining church contacts to keep the wheels of Laban turning. And, you know, we can do all that, but if God's blessing isn't on those efforts, it will go down in smoke. Ultimately it is all of Him.

So here's our dilemma. We long to go back. We need to go back. I can either become frustrated with the lack of funds to send us back or cease from fretting by nestling into the Lord Himself. If I truly believe that "the plans of the heart belong to man, but the answer of the tongue is from the Lord", (Prov 16:1) and follow the 3rd verse of that same chapter, "Commit your work to the Lord, and your plans will be established," then I will choose to surrender to the paradox of having a good plan which needs to be relinquished to Him and rest in His better plan, which could mean. . . not now.

Actually, it goes beyond submitting, surrendering, and resting. It goes as far as death. I must die to myself and my good plan. Life in general and ministry in particular calls us to relinquish and die to our own will everyday of our lives-- letting go, letting be, and allowing God to actually be God, though we may think we clearly see a better way. How ludicrous! How arrogant! How insulting to the Lord of the universe to throw an emotional tantrum because He is seemingly bypassing our desire to fulfill His will? Sounds insane, doesn't it. But isn't that what we often do? Do we not come up with a "noble" plan and then not just ask Him but expect Him to bless it, and when we run into road blocks that clearly signal it isn't His plan, I at least fret and stress about it.

Wrestling in prayer about the next trip will continue. That's a good thing. The Lord loves that, but my inner being, my soul, my deep seated emotions and responses must be constantly lifted to Him for the soothing that only He can give, so that He will be praised instead of questioned and disrespected. I will choose to remember I am as safe in the stops He orders as well as in the starts, despite the fact that once we announce our month of departure to donors, they tend to want to hold us to it. After all, they live vicariously through the excitement of returning to a land full of adventure, great stories, tons of people asking for salvation, and a work flourishing in the bush of Africa!

Lord, you owe me nothing. You are not obligated. You are Your Majesty, the Lord Jesus Christ. I will choose to remember today your deliverance and provision in the past time after time, and I will trust you for the same in the future.

imbedded and engraved. . .

2009-04-29T20:48:00.002-04:00

My heart is fixed on You, oh Lord. The salve of your Holy Spirit lubricates my sorrowful soul through Your Word, making its way into all the hidden crevisces, restoring hope and repairing wounds caused by the storms of life that sweep over me like sea billows. You are awesome. You are just. You are not only righteousness, but You are my righteousness.

You have indelibly imprinted (tattooed a picture of your children on the palm of each of Your hands (Isaiah 49:15 and engraved us in Your compassionate and loving heart. We are that valuable in Your sight; in fact, we are priceless. Priceless because You and the Godhead agreed in eternity past to crucify Your own Son so that we could spend eternity with You.

And for those times we cannot understand; for those times that are past finding out, You state "Who is among you who reverently fears the Lord, who obeys the voice of His Servant, yet who walks in darkness and deep trouble and has no shining splendor in his heart? Let him rely on and be confident in the name of the Lord, and let him lean upon and be supported by his God. Isaiah 50:10.

If you, Father, allowed Your Son, the Darling of heaven "to become an object of horror and many were astonished at Him for His face and His whole appearance were marred more than any man's, and His form beyond that of the sons of men. . ." for us, Lord. You allowed that horror to shroud Him for us. Then we have no other recourse than to trust You.

We await the day when we will join the many angels on every side of the throne as well as the living creatures and the elders who number ten thousand times ten thousand and thousands of thousands, saying in a loud voice,

Deserving is the Lamb, Who was sacrificed, to receive all the power and riches and wisdom and might and honor and majesty, glory, splendor and blessings! Rev 5:11,12

Only 4 days 'til Laban dinner event

2009-04-26T08:51:00.004-04:00

. Laban is hosting an informal gathering

. Thursday, 6 p.m.

. Crystal Gardens

. 16703 Fort Street, Southgate MI

. $25 per person or $200 for a group of ten

. Jack Smith, Music Minister at Gilead Baptist of Taylor, MI, along with his wife,
Molly, and Mariah Humphries, also of Gilead, will provide music

. Jim and Nancy Smith, founders and directors of Laban Ministries Int., will provide
fresh updates from their recent trip to Congo just this past Feb, Mar, and Apr,

. Lovely sit down family-style dinner

. Informal dress

. Free will love offering

. Contact Molly Smith at 734 775 8125

yet another loss. . .

2009-04-25T16:02:00.002-04:00

The new arrival would be a Thanksgiving baby. Names had been narrowed down to favorites. There would be a brand spanking new baby to hold and cuddle at Christmas by all the family on both sides. Would this little one look like Summer or Luke? How comforting it was to think of this new life. Such welcome news Nicol gave us while we were still in Congo. Our hearts lept for joy. Summer would have a sibling she could touch and stroke and love and be big sister to. Greg announced it on his blog, not only because he was bursting with joy, but because he valued the prayers of blog readers. Hope revisited. New beginnings.

Then, without warning, something went terribly wrong. Baby Sponberg due in November will not make his or her appearance, not yet, not now, not on this earth. We've lost yet another baby. Gut-wrenching sorrow. Reasons, past finding out. No explanation. Overwhelming grief once again. Words aren't good enough. Please pray for Greg, Nicol, and Summer.