I am in a church made of concrete with openings along the walls that allow the air in. I sit on a wooden bench or a plastic lawn chair. And I listen. There are occasional moments when I am sure the words of the speaker are divine and they are words I recognize to be of my Father. But more frequently I struggle to identify with the message -- I sit uncomfortably in my chair and try to discern some truth, searching for God in the words even if they seem unfamiliar.
Since my arrival I have been caught in a world of God. Surrounded by the highest growth rates of Christianity on the globe, Africa is indeed searching for an answer. In the average village, and even city, shops have names like: Jesus is Great Fashion Center, God is My Witness Fast Food, Jesus Saves Fan Milk Depot, and God is King Spraying Works. It is common for a person to wish you God's blessing as they bid you goodbye. Most school children have numerous prayers and Bible verses memorized, and many of my friends wake up as early as 4 am to say prayers and read their Bible before the day begins.
The world of Africa is struggling to get on it's feet, struggling to overcome the past and survive the future. I often become distracted during church, Bible study, and devotions; distracted by the alternating between English and Ewe, distracted by the differences in theology, and I find myself drifting to the familiar words of the Bible sitting in my lap. But recently I had a revelation and an explanation for Africa's Christianity boom: the pastor declared, "Hand over your life to Him, He can keep it better." In America we can avoid God, but in Ghana it's difficult to be so independent. I reflected on the absence of running water in houses, as well as the absence of bathrooms and the numerous people I have witnessed relieving themselves publicly. Both, simple signs of un-development. I thought about the dark presence of AIDS and other potentially fatal diseases like Malaria and Typhoid. As the pastor spoke about traditional African shrines, the spirits that travel and have to be summoned by witches and juju, he triumphantly proclaimed, "Our God does not travel, He is with us regardless of when and where." He stated, "Life is about conviction," and asked, "Can you die for what you believe?" It then occurred to me that God has been received in Africa because with Him there is an eternal future with promise and an escape from the harsh realities of our bitter world.
But I am still compelled to ask, Is this God, my God, and are we worshiping the same Father and Christ? I am often confused by their teachings, and as we read the same Bible passages I have heard again and again since childhood, I wonder, If we both have the same source, can the comprehension and application really be that different? And, Can I be the one who has misinterpreted the meaning of His word? Further, If our faith is innocently subjected to the consciousness of our culture, can we possibly have gotten it all wrong? -- Could this have a tragic ending? Finally, What is the crucial truth? Is is Jesus Christ alone?
The average Sunday worship service lasts between two and four hours, including: prayers, the singing of hymns, reading of scripture, multiple (mandatory) offerings, and a long account of announcements at the end. Initially I was irritated by the seemingly endless length of the service, how could I not be? -- it's in my breeding. In the US the pastor feels pressure to release his congregation and church closes at 12. Americans are a busy people, perhaps filled by unnecessary busy-ness, but we are on a schedule nonetheless; with exactly one hour to spare for church on Sunday morning. But in Ghana, this concept of time frame is essentially non-existent. As I thought about the comfort, assurance, and strength a worship service can provide, I discovered that perhaps they last so long in Ghana because they are the oasis of the desert and it's only natural to dwell in such a place.
One evening while on a walk with the Moderator of the EPC and his wife, we heard the prayers of a local church -- it's a charismatic congregation that holds prayer meetings multiple times a week, with the use of a loud speaker, and often encouraging speaking in tongues. As you can imagine, it can be very loud. Mrs. Buama asked me how I felt about it and I responded too quickly, "I just don't understand what they are making so much noise about." She then simply answered, "God." At that moment, it was clear to me. And though I still wonder, If we are sincerely worshiping the God who calls us, is it possible to have taken the wrong path? -- I find assurance in God's control and that He is indeed the Great Decider.
Friday, March 30, 2007
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Sky and Water
In the beginning of January, Kimberlee and I traveled to the beach-side village of Ada Foah with hopes of seeing a turtle. When we arrived at the guesthouse after dark the manager informed us that turtles make their way to shore in the early morning hours and when we were ready we could accompany a guide to the beach. We had some dinner and by 10 pm we began walking. It was dark, but the light of the moon filled the sky enough so we could see clearly.
In recent years, Ada has been known as a location to sight turtles, specifically because the people of the village have protected them. The leatherback currently has the conservation status of a critically endangered species with an extremely high risk of becoming extinct, but this stretch of beach has become a place of refuge and safety. The mother turtles know they can come to shore, lay their eggs, and return safely to the sea; no poachers waiting to steal eggs or even kill for their meat. Rather, the village men will bury eggs if they are swept out of their holes and will watch to ensure the turtles return safely to the water.
At first I was filled with energy and anticipation at the sight of a turtle, but as each hour passed and my feet and legs were worn from walking far in the deep sand, I began to doubt whether we would have any luck. I was so eager but struggled to be patient and wait for the right time. Just as I was ready to give up, I looked ahead along the sand, and there it was – a giant leatherback sea turtle: five feet long, four feet wide, and two feet high. She was indeed an impressive animal, and justified her status as the world's fourth largest reptile.
She was inland fifty feet with her back facing the water. We sat down in the damp sand and watched as she spent time digging a hole with her back flippers, into which she laid at least one hundred eggs. Though, in the hour and a half it took for her to dig the hole and lay her eggs, the tide had come in and proceeded to wash her eggs out of the hole. At this, our guide promptly began to dig another hole and instructed us to gather the soft, bright white eggs (the size of racquetballs) and place them into the hole. We then buried them and watched as the giant turtle turned around and slowly but swiftly returned to the ocean, surfing on the waves, and finally disappearing into the dark sea.
At the ending of February I was on yet another adventure, joining Becci and Anna for a boat ride on the Lake Volta. The Yapei Queen is a ferry primarily used as a cargo vessel but has a small deck space available for passengers. The journey was thirty hours, complete with sleeping on deck, and the route is the longest followed by any boat in Ghana. It was a journey I will remember forever; sitting for hours at the port waiting to board, far past schedule (so typical Africa), then standing in line with the common men, women, and children of Ghana – still waiting, then entering the ferry, and scrambling to find a place to stay for the next two days.
Lake Volta is the largest artificial lake in the world, stretching north 402 km, and was created in the 1960s when President Nkrumah took on the ambitious project of damming the Volta River to generate electricity. Sadly, in process of damming the river, 850,000 hectares of land were flooded (7% of Ghana’s land surface) and 84,000 people were displaced. To this day much remains to be done to compensate people for the loss of their land.
As the heavy boat pushed through the calm waters I could not help but notice the hundreds of dead trees still remaining many feet into the water – a striking visual reminder of the past, the land overcome by water, and a history that cannot be escaped. The views offered by the boat were stunning, men fishing from their small canoes, the lush hills of the south and then transitioning to the flatter lands of the north, and small villages of simple mud huts with thatched roofs nestled at the edge of the water. On the last night as the hot African sun crept out of sight, setting behind the haze of harmattan, the water was still and the sky and water seemed to be one.
When the journey ended we arrived at midnight in the port town of Yeji and quickly discovered it had nothing to offer in terms of entertainment, so we made plans to leave early in the morning. However, as I walked through the streets, I recalled current controversy surrounding the port town and it’s infamy concerning child trafficking. In Yeji, as well as other towns along the lake shore, (despite its illegality) children are bought and sold to work for the fisherman. This slavery often results in terrible living conditions, working in unfavourable weather, eating non-nutritious foods, and non-sufficient clothing. (Check out the 'international organization for migration' website http://www.iom.int/jahia/page1666.html).
In our humanity and in spite of our brokenness the lines of right and wrong seem indistinguishable. A poacher ignorantly steals the eggs of an endangered species, selfishly thinking only of his survival. A country’s leader thinks it is right to dam a river to create a large source of energy and potential income, but dismisses the consequences and plans poorly. A mother hopes if she sells her children she will save them, by giving them work and education in a trade, ultimately offering them a future.
Somehow we ignore the big picture. We are distracted by the deceptive unity of water and sky and forget that they are indeed two separate and very different things. We are deceived by the superficial truths and we chose to believe the resolution that allows our choice to be right. God gave us a great gift in the freedom of choice, but perhaps it is that gift alone which consistently proves our sinfulness. However, once this is recognized we must take responsibility for it and fight to be better, strive to overcome our brokenness.
We need to listen to the call of our lives, to recognize what fight we were created to take. Is it to bury the turtle eggs when they are swept out by the sea, or to remember the past and past mistakes so they are not repeated, or to create awareness of child slavery? Right now there are thousands of opportunities for right to battle wrong.
What fight will you chose?
In recent years, Ada has been known as a location to sight turtles, specifically because the people of the village have protected them. The leatherback currently has the conservation status of a critically endangered species with an extremely high risk of becoming extinct, but this stretch of beach has become a place of refuge and safety. The mother turtles know they can come to shore, lay their eggs, and return safely to the sea; no poachers waiting to steal eggs or even kill for their meat. Rather, the village men will bury eggs if they are swept out of their holes and will watch to ensure the turtles return safely to the water.
At first I was filled with energy and anticipation at the sight of a turtle, but as each hour passed and my feet and legs were worn from walking far in the deep sand, I began to doubt whether we would have any luck. I was so eager but struggled to be patient and wait for the right time. Just as I was ready to give up, I looked ahead along the sand, and there it was – a giant leatherback sea turtle: five feet long, four feet wide, and two feet high. She was indeed an impressive animal, and justified her status as the world's fourth largest reptile.
She was inland fifty feet with her back facing the water. We sat down in the damp sand and watched as she spent time digging a hole with her back flippers, into which she laid at least one hundred eggs. Though, in the hour and a half it took for her to dig the hole and lay her eggs, the tide had come in and proceeded to wash her eggs out of the hole. At this, our guide promptly began to dig another hole and instructed us to gather the soft, bright white eggs (the size of racquetballs) and place them into the hole. We then buried them and watched as the giant turtle turned around and slowly but swiftly returned to the ocean, surfing on the waves, and finally disappearing into the dark sea.
At the ending of February I was on yet another adventure, joining Becci and Anna for a boat ride on the Lake Volta. The Yapei Queen is a ferry primarily used as a cargo vessel but has a small deck space available for passengers. The journey was thirty hours, complete with sleeping on deck, and the route is the longest followed by any boat in Ghana. It was a journey I will remember forever; sitting for hours at the port waiting to board, far past schedule (so typical Africa), then standing in line with the common men, women, and children of Ghana – still waiting, then entering the ferry, and scrambling to find a place to stay for the next two days.
Lake Volta is the largest artificial lake in the world, stretching north 402 km, and was created in the 1960s when President Nkrumah took on the ambitious project of damming the Volta River to generate electricity. Sadly, in process of damming the river, 850,000 hectares of land were flooded (7% of Ghana’s land surface) and 84,000 people were displaced. To this day much remains to be done to compensate people for the loss of their land.
As the heavy boat pushed through the calm waters I could not help but notice the hundreds of dead trees still remaining many feet into the water – a striking visual reminder of the past, the land overcome by water, and a history that cannot be escaped. The views offered by the boat were stunning, men fishing from their small canoes, the lush hills of the south and then transitioning to the flatter lands of the north, and small villages of simple mud huts with thatched roofs nestled at the edge of the water. On the last night as the hot African sun crept out of sight, setting behind the haze of harmattan, the water was still and the sky and water seemed to be one.
When the journey ended we arrived at midnight in the port town of Yeji and quickly discovered it had nothing to offer in terms of entertainment, so we made plans to leave early in the morning. However, as I walked through the streets, I recalled current controversy surrounding the port town and it’s infamy concerning child trafficking. In Yeji, as well as other towns along the lake shore, (despite its illegality) children are bought and sold to work for the fisherman. This slavery often results in terrible living conditions, working in unfavourable weather, eating non-nutritious foods, and non-sufficient clothing. (Check out the 'international organization for migration' website http://www.iom.int/jahia/page1666.html).
In our humanity and in spite of our brokenness the lines of right and wrong seem indistinguishable. A poacher ignorantly steals the eggs of an endangered species, selfishly thinking only of his survival. A country’s leader thinks it is right to dam a river to create a large source of energy and potential income, but dismisses the consequences and plans poorly. A mother hopes if she sells her children she will save them, by giving them work and education in a trade, ultimately offering them a future.
Somehow we ignore the big picture. We are distracted by the deceptive unity of water and sky and forget that they are indeed two separate and very different things. We are deceived by the superficial truths and we chose to believe the resolution that allows our choice to be right. God gave us a great gift in the freedom of choice, but perhaps it is that gift alone which consistently proves our sinfulness. However, once this is recognized we must take responsibility for it and fight to be better, strive to overcome our brokenness.
We need to listen to the call of our lives, to recognize what fight we were created to take. Is it to bury the turtle eggs when they are swept out by the sea, or to remember the past and past mistakes so they are not repeated, or to create awareness of child slavery? Right now there are thousands of opportunities for right to battle wrong.
What fight will you chose?
Thursday, March 08, 2007
Ghana is 50
At midnight on Tuesday evening, March 6th, 2007, I stood in the streets of Accra near Dr. Kwami Nkruma's mausoleum alongside thousands of Ghanaians to celebrate the 50th anniversary of Ghana's independence. As bright fireworks filled night sky and people cheered with excitement I reflected on the significance of this day, the significance for Ghana, the whole of Africa, and the world.
For hundreds of years the fate of the Gold Coast was in foreign hands: In the 15th century the Portuguese were in control, and ivory and gold were quickly replaced by the trading of slaves. By the 16th century the Dutch, British, and Danes had all arrived to take part in the trading, and in the early 19th century when slavery was outlawed, the British had dominance of the coast. For the next hundred years there was much conflict between Ghanaian tribes fighting for control of each other and each other's land, as well as conflict between the tribes and the British.
However, despite conflict, under British control the Gold Coast experienced success; by WWI, cocoa, gold, and timber made the Gold Coast Africa's most prosperous colony and by independence in 1957 the future was only hopeful-- Ghana was a country that boasted both the best schools and the best civil service in West Africa.
A nation once rich in timber, diamonds and gold and the world's top exporter of cocoa, a nation formerly at the top with the promise of great development and success. Fifty years later battered by political repression, Ghana's economy crawls along, while a third of the people live on less than a dollar a day. Further, Ghana's seaside capital, Accra, suffers from increasing power outages, and tens of thousands of people in Accra have no running water and are forced to heft buckets and cans from water pumps to their homes.
On March 6, 1957, Ghana became the first country in Africa south of the Sahara to gain independence from colonial rule. And Dr. Kwami Nkruma, the first president, known as the liberator, declared: "At long last, the battle has ended. And Ghana, your beloved country, is free forever." But today, this Golden Jubilee prompts reflection on why Africa has failed to translate its dreams, and its abundance of mineral and agricultural resources, into wealth.
Current president, John A. Kufour has recognized the disappointing absence of development and the need to separate the future from the past: "Let us resolve to draw a firm line between our chequered and unhappy past and a future full of hope, achievement and fellow feeling."
The streets are lined with Ghana's flag, three stripes of color, starting at the top with red, yellow in the center, and green at the bottom, with a black star at the center of the yellow. With the anniversary's theme in mind, Championing African Excellence, I am reminded of Dr. Kwame Nkrumah's vision of Ghana as the guiding light of African independence and solidarity, the black star. His dream was indeed fulfilled as Ghana led the way for other African colonies to earn emancipation from colonial rule but somehow, the lead has been lost. It is the story of promise unfulfilled, the story of a nation born to prosper but stalled by corruption and selfishness.
Ghana boasts fifty years of freedom from Europe, but now, the nation is enslaved by other, sometimes less recognizable forms of bondage, and the oppression of poverty has replaced the white man's oppression. I ask you to pray that God grants the people of Ghana vision, strength, and courage in the work that has to be done to move this country forward.
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