SOME LAST THOUGHTS AND IMPRESSIONS

I am posting these last blogs from the states. We have returned home, leaving Sandee, Susan, Elmer, Bruce and Laurie to hold the fort. I expect they’ll finish the new building in the EERN compound by the end of the month. (Just kidding! I can’t begin to guess which month, or even which year this project will be completed.) I confess that a part of me wonders if this project will ever be completed. Without any mechanical help – no backhoe, no cement mixer, no power equipment, every brick having to be made by hand – it’s going to be a long and difficult journey to that day when the project is finished. But the workers are motivated by faith and an eagerness to master the new skills they are learning. With God, all things are possible.

Our trip back home was long, but uneventful. Every flight was on time, every transfer was made, and praise God – every single piece of luggage arrived with us in JFK airport. I attribute such miracles to the power of prayer. Thanks again for offering them on our behalf!

Now that I have been home for a while, and my tired body is adjusting to Eastern Standard Time in the USA, some vivid images and memories are rising to the surface for me. I think of David, one of the Christian workers at the compound. He and his fellow workers are being trained in construction as they build the new center. He was quite delighted that we shared the same name. He spoke very good English, so we could converse. He was such a kind and gentle young man, always addressing me respectfully as “Pastor David.”

He shared with me that he has sickle cell anemia. Apparently in that part of the world, having sickle cell is a mixed blessing, for it provides you with immunity to malaria. That’s the good news. The bad news is that it makes you weak and can be painful and very tiring. Untreated, it can be life-threatening. Because of his condition he was delegated to some of the lighter work that was less physically demanding. Still, he worked steadily and faithfully.

One day he came to me and asked if I had an extra Bible. He said he had one in his own language, but that he wanted one in English, so that he could practice his English. He went on to request that my church back in the United States keep him in their prayers. He especially wanted prayers for his personal dream that he will be able to go to school and study electronics. He knows that he won’t be able to do the arduous physical work of construction, so he hopes to practice in a trade compatible with his health challenges. It was an absolute joy and thrill to be able to give him my Bible. I request your prayers on David’s behalf.

Another memory lingers with me. It’s a conversation we had with one of the church leaders in Niamey. He spoke of the possibility that the next election in Niger might establish a Muslim government. The current government is secular and practices a separation of church and state, even though the country is overwhelmingly Muslim. I was stunned when he recounted an ongoing discussion in the Christian community in Niamey. They are seriously debating what they would do (and should do) if Niger followed the path of other African nations that have adopted Muslim governments. Some have outlawed Christian practice and have actually broken up worship services and raided homes violently. He said that there have been discussions among Christians in Niamey about whether or not they could find the courage and faith to live up to Jesus’ teachings if such violence came to Niger. He honestly shared that he wasn’t sure if he could “turn the other cheek” if the lives of his wife and child (they have a brand new baby daughter!) were threatened. I appreciate his honesty, for I am not so sure what I would do myself if I faced so horrible a situation. I appreciate his brave faith even more.

Another thought lingers with me. Jokingly I said several times to my fellow travelers that our Niger experience was very much like the television show, Survivor. I had fun saying, for example, “Elmer, the tribe has spoken. It’s time to leave Africa.” But now that I am home I have been thinking more about Survivor, the show. Leave it to us Americans to come up with a show in which we go to some remote place and live like most of the rest of the world lives, struggling to barely survive – and we make a game of it! The contestants go out and “survive” for five or six weeks while off camera a first rate medical team stands ready if there is any real danger. They endure the hardships because someone might pay them a million dollars to do so. And besides, they know they can escape at any time if surviving gets too difficult.

The people of Niger live a daily survivor game. They are camped in their makeshift little huts or little lean-tos made of whatever scraps of metal, sticks or palms leaves they can piece together. They scrounge for fire wood to cook the bits of food they have managed to secure. It looks and feels just like the Survivor game. Only there are no off camera conveniences for them. They have no modern medicine or affluence to return to. They can’t just check out when they’ve had enough. And certainly no one is offering big dollars to any of them for living such a life. I wonder: If they showed Survivor on Nigerian television, would most watching it there say, “Hey, they’ve got it pretty good!”?

Another thought (I’ve got a million of them . . .) Now that I am back in the USA, many have asked me, “Are they happy there?” I know what’s behind that question. As Americans, we can be struck by the quick laughter, the light demeanor or the warm smiles and friendly greetings among the people we meet who are living in third world poverty. They seem to us so “carefree” and spontaneous. I have noted during other mission trips that people living in such poverty are apt to have a more trusting and joyful faith in God. Are they happier than we are? Implied in that question is the idea that since they have so little and live their lives without the stress of trying to maintain an ever expanding and ever demanding materialistic lifestyle as we do, they are somehow “happier” than we are. Perhaps.

But I wouldn’t want to romanticize their poverty. Maybe they are happier because they are free from the stresses of the American lifestyle that takes so much out of us as we try to maintain it. But they have other more dreadful stressors in their difficult lives. Like having a sick child for whom they cannot possibly provide medical coverage. Or there is the mother who doesn’t bother sending her children to school because she says they’ll probably die before they can use their education anyway.

Previously in this blog, I mentioned Hazura, the wonderful woman who took care of us by cooking and cleaning for us. I noted that her little baby was always wrapped tightly to her as she worked around the compound so lovingly and joyfully for us. Hazura seemed always to smile, always humming a song of praise to God. Initially, I would observe that she is so “happy.” And she is.

But as the week progressed, and I got to know Hazura more, I found out that the baby she carries with her every day should be more like a toddler. She is over 14 months old. I was told that just the week before we arrived in Africa, this 14 month old baby sat up by herself for the very first time. She hasn’t yet learned to crawl. In our land, that baby would have had a battery of tests and treatments and been whisked off to the best hospitals and specialists. In Africa, Hazura can only shrug and speculate, “Something must be wrong. We are worried.”

Are they happy? Yes, in many remarkable ways their faith and dependence on God gives them a joyful outlook that is enviable to us self-sufficient self-sustaining Americans. But all around that joy there must be a haunting dread and helplessness that I would never call “happy.” Let us never try to justify their poverty by saying they are happier for it.

Which brings me to my final thought (final to this blog, anyway). It’s simply an echo of the lay preacher’s stewardship sermon I heard the Sunday we worshiped at an EERN church. At first I thought it was ironic that he said to the congregation gathered there that they were blessed greatly and they ought therefore to be a sacrificial blessing to others. I thought how amazing that they could count themselves blessed. By our American standards, the people there live a rather modest lifestyle. But later I found out that most people in that congregation were indeed blessed by Nigerian standards. They are mostly educated and employed. Many are professionals, professors or government workers. Transfer their homes and lifestyle to America and we would call them poor or perhaps lower middle class. But in Niger, they are living the good life. So yes, he was preaching to blessed people and challenged them to be generous to those in need.

But he was also preaching to me. And the life I live is even more blessed (materially) than any other person in that sanctuary that day. The preacher thrust God’s Word on me that day: “David Corlett, you have been blessed. So now, are you going to be a blessing?” The challenge that word has given me must be responded to. How am I to be a blessing for others who have so little?

A question kept running through me as I lived and walked among the Nigerians. It was, “Why me?” Usually we ask that question in a whining tone when things aren’t going well for us. “Why me? What did I do to deserve this?”

But in Niger I asked that question in incredulous disbelief, wonder and guilty gratitude. Why me? Why do I have so much while so many here have so little? What did I do to deserve the abundance of my life? The quick answer is “nothing.” I have been blessed for no other reason than the grace of God. And the preacher that day said I am to pass it on. I have been blessed to be a blessing to others.

I have to do a lot of praying and discerning to determine how exactly I must answer that call. How can I and the wonderful congregation I serve be a blessing for others who are in such need? May we be open to the answer God wants us to make to that question . . . .

God Bless,
Pastor Dave Corlett
Ephesians 3: 16-19