Missions

I was so excited to get my first check, after all, I didn’t even own a bed. Rent was $525. When you divide that by the other five (all of us buddies who had just graduated from Pacific Lutheran University) each share was just $87.50 per month. But when you were just starting out, every dollar was significant. Besides, with six guys in one house, we knew we needed to save some money for a housecleaner every once in awhile (we hired a cheerleader once a month; she even brought us cookies—such a deal).

So when that first check came from the Bethel School District (I was a high school teacher), I scoured over every deduction. “What’s this, union dues? I didn’t join any union.” I would come to find out that every employee was in the union unless you opted out. And to opt out, you had to request a special “opt out form,” fill it out, send it via certified mail, and you could only do so during a one-week window during the summer. And as I recall, I had to snoop out all this information, too—no one provided it. The end result was that it was a really difficult process to get out of the union. The system was set up for you to be in it.

God has given directives to His church and to the believer. There are certain things we are told to do. The church is to preach the Gospel and administrate the sacraments, for example. The believer is to love, serve, forgive, and so on. The Bible is full of such commands. One that’s on the list is to take care of widows and orphans (Isaiah 1:17, Jeremiah 22:3, James 1:27). Jesus’ parable of the “Sheep and the Goats” (Matthew 25:31-46) with His instruction to take care of the “least of these” probably refers to widows and orphans, too.

Which gets to my point; we don’t need to be told to take care of the orphan—the command has already been given. Sometimes we wait for directives from God. But what if He has already provided it? As Christians, we are to be in the “taking care of orphans business” already. The number not caring for the orphan suggests, however, there’s an “opt out” available somewhere. I’ve never seen that “form.” How would you even fill it out if you secured one? “Memo to God, I’m asking for an exemption on the orphan ‘thing’—I don’t really have the resources. Sorry.” Does any Christian want to send that certified mail to God?

This is not a blog to incite guilt. It is one to take our responsibilities more seriously than we sometimes do. It is also to inform the members of our church that a couple hundred dollars each month of your tithes and offerings goes to the orphan care ministry of Youth for Christ.

But truth be told—we didn’t have a choice.

Pastor Rich Hamlin

March 15, 2012

The Census Bureau just came out with its 2010 poverty report. The numbers spiked. Just over 15% of Americans are now considered “poor.” That’s 46.2 million people.

But if you dig a little you soon discover America’s poor aren’t like the world’s poor. The typical household considered “poor” in America has a car, air conditioning, cable (or satellite TV), two televisions, a DVD player, an Xbox (or PlayStation). Half the poor have a computer, a third have a widescreen TV, and a quarter have a digital video recorder (such as TiVo). Ninety-six percent of poor parents stated that their children were never hungry at any time during the year. Only 4% of poor persons ever become temporarily homeless. And the average poor American has more living space (square footage) than the average Swede or German.

The poverty level, by the way, has been determined to be yearly income below $22,300 for a family of four. It is not fun to fall behind on your mortgage; it’s not fun to eat Mac and cheese or beans and rice more than you like. I’m not for a minute making light of situations where families struggle with the question, “How are we going to make it this month?”

But I have a different perspective now. Having recently been to Kenya for two weeks, and two weeks last year, doesn’t make me a third-world expert or a commentator on poverty. But what it has done is changed my understanding of poor. Phrases such as “day to day” and “hand to mouth” are reality for Kenyans. Electricity and indoor plumbing is a luxury that evades all but the most well to do. It is commonplace to see men (or boys) beating a donkey with a stick who pulls an overloaded cart of corn or sugarcane or other vegetable home from the field. Another typical scene is a woman hauling home sticks roped to her back she found in the countryside so she can cook something later that day. Children aren’t playing video games; a lot of times I saw them just sitting in the dirt and watching life go by.

We are told that things are relative (such as truth and values) and because there are no absolutes, we can establish our own right and wrong. Within our cultural rubric, right and wrong vary from person to person as each of our situations, upbringings, and lens to the world is different. As Christians, we reject this notion. God has established truth; His Word has drawn the line between right and wrong. Biblical truth transcends time, culture, and individualism. We don’t have the authority to move God’s line.

What is relative, however, is poverty—there is such a thing as “American poor” and there is such a thing as “Kenyan poor.” And there is a great, great difference. It’s convenient and self-serving to call truth relative—but it is not. It would be good, however, to remind ourselves that America’s poverty is relative; that America’s poor are Kenya’s kings.

I just got back from two weeks in Kenya. The focal point of the trip was to train a gathering of mostly rural pastors. Most of their churches have dirt floors, mud walls, and thatched roofs. The nicer houses of God have sheet metal to keep out the rain and an outhouse in the back. Most of the men receive little (even no) compensation; most have had no formal training. The congregations they serve live day-to-day and hand-to-mouth. Disease is high—there is typhoid in the water and malaria in the mosquitoes. Life expectancy is 59 years.

Churches are small (25-40) and are seemingly everywhere. It is not uncommon to find a church holding a “revival” in the village square. Churches are constantly planting other churches. The problem is men are assuming these pulpits with no training. Preaching is often loud and full of hallelujahs and amens—the pastor inciting the congregation to respond in kind. If there is electricity, the pastor’s microphone is turned high to distortion and an electric keyboard programmed to an African beat fills the air. Parishioners are not still. When the music begins, so do their hands and feet; as they dance to the music, it is difficult to distinguish whether they are chanting and praying in their tribal tongue or a Pentecostal one.

With money from our church, we were able to give 250 bibles (English and Swahili) to pastors to distribute to their mostly Bible-less congregations. We also purchased and gave out theological books from Packer, Piper and Sproul as well as a Reformation Study Bible to one pastor who was so overjoyed, he and his wife could not speak but only hugged me in disbelief in what they had just received. With some extra money, we gave 10,000 Kenya shillings (about $100) to one pastor from Turkana (Northern Kenya on the border with Somalia). A lethal combination of drought, political ineptitude, and corruption has created an environment of death there. This pastor (named George) had recently walked 25 miles into the bush to plant a church. The congregation meets each Sunday under a tree.

These are some of the images, people and stories from Kenya. I have a lot more. For as I have discovered after making these two week trips these past two summers; you may leave Kenya, but Kenya never leaves you.

Pastor Rich was in Kenya working with Agape Project International.