Channeling My Fury

I was so tired yesterday that I had what I can only describe as “out of body” experiences, times when it felt as though my spirit was leaving me. I kept my eyes open even when we stood to pray because once when I had closed my eyes, I caught myself stumbling forward a couple of steps and realized that standing was not enough to keep me awake. Then, when I was at this physical low, I met Zipporah. Her story depleted me of almost all but my love for God and my family. But even exhaustion has benefits. I slept through the night. And now my mind is racing furiously, trying to process all of this. So pardon me if I give expression to my rage for just a moment.

I reflect back to my time in college when professors decried Christian missionaries for seeking to change the belief systems of indigenous peoples, as though any people anywhere ever developed organically apart from the influence of others, or as though it were written somewhere that people should so develop. I suppose the kind of dung is still being propagated in the sterile environs of academia. It’s easy to romanticize about the wisdom of tribal elders and fantasize children’s stories of the shaman. Such idealized notions sound good from the quaint security of western ivied towers, and you never have to grapple with the patent lie of it all or wonder if such hallowed halls of learning would even exist if our societies had been untouched by the gospel. This esoteric horse hooey may seem lovely at 30,000 feet, but on the ground the reality is stark and ugly, rank and grotesque.

Do you know who should be the most ardent supporter of Christianity in the world? Feminists. Oh, I don’t mean those considered Christian egalitarians of today, I mean that dyed-in-the-wool, card-carrying, militant 1960’s brand of feminism that refuses to shave its armpits. Why? Because of the elevation of women by Christ, the radical idea that in Christ there is no male or female. I look at societies influenced by the good news of Christ, and I see societies free to debate such issues and to develop in such enlightened ways. I see societies untouched by the gospel, and I see Zipporah.

Well, enough ranting. I want to finish with action, not thoughts. I want to raise the money to build Zipporah a house. A livable house in a safe place. That sounds daunting in our minds. But here the poor build their houses from the land, and it can be done for relatively little money, even with thatched roofing giving way to metal sheets. $1,000 will do it. Think of it. A life of vulnerability and terror completely transformed for $1,000.  And $5,000 would build a permanent house, including a well.

One of the problems I see in Africa is the sheer immensity of the challenge. This place is a black hole of poverty. You could throw Bill Gates’ and Warren Buffet’s money at this, and it would just be absorbed within minutes and gone like “the disappearing dreams of yesterday.” Jesus said the poor would always be with us, and when I look at Africa I know those words are true. This often leads to paralysis. We can’t fix such a big problem, so we do nothing at all. But the way an ant eats an elephant is one bite at a time. I can’t solve poverty in Africa. We can’t do that. But we can make Zipporah’s life better. And we should. I’ll put the structure in place to assure this is done right. Then you can help. And you should.

gkr1996 posted at 2017-10-17 Category: Kenya 2017