The Rains

The people of Malawi live by faith. Rainy season is usually late November to early March. This season the rains arrived on time and everyone praised God. They continued nicely until mid January and then they stopped. During February there were light rains in scattered places, but nothing of substance. People began to speculate about the crops. Malawi is a rain-dependent agricultural country. There is little irrigation, so when the rains stop, people’s livelihoods are at risk. What kind of a maize crop would this yield? Maize is the staple for almost everyone in the country. Other crops only augment the maize. The immature maize began to dry up on the stocks, not a good sign. Then the cassava was invested with bugs. Cassava is breakfast for many people as well as being a cash crop for many others. This was a bad sign. Rice had no water, so was not growing. People began to pray.

God heard because last week the rains began again. Each day for the last 10 it has rained substantially, so much so that some areas have flooded. In typical Malawian fashion, everyone is praising God for the rains, and adjusting to this late blessing. The maize is fairly well gone. There is nothing that can be done but to harvest it before it gathers too much moisture on the stock and begins to mold, destroying what is available. The cassava is already harvested. But the rice farmers are thrilled. These rains are giving them new life and hope. Some are even planting who have not grown much rice before. Those who grow beans are delighted. There is hope yet for a good crop. The crops have been affected, but all is not lost. God is good. There are no complaints heard, only praise for God’s provision and intervention. People will have food to eat and will have crops to sell and that is what counts most. If you have water, you have life, so they are praising God for the life he has given and are taking advantage of the opportunities available. That is living by faith.

Road Tested

When an automobile is serviced, the last thing the mechanic does, before returning the auto to the owner, is to road test it to be certain that everything is functioning properly. That is the analogy the senior pastor used on Sunday at the first service of the Limbe congregation, where I was to preach. He proclaimed my return a “road test” by the Master Mechanic, Jesus, who had been the doctor and healer for my recovery. Everyone had a good laugh and the service commenced.

I danced (a most acceptable behavior in a worship service here as we dance with the singing of the praise songs and choruses that are presented) with the congregation as we sang praises to the God who heals and strengthens, who empowers and graces us. I led in prayer and then preached. After the offering, the senior pastor declared the “road test” a success and announced to the congregation that I was fit to return to full service. Again there was great laughter, but this time accompanied by applause and a few cheers. The congregation rejoiced with me at God’s great healing and restoration. At that point, I wanted to sing the doxology again, not for the financial offering, but for God’s offering of grace to me in this recovery. He is truly the one who is worthy to be praised. He is the only one to deserve praise for who he is and for what he has done.

As if the morning service were not enough of a road test, I was scheduled to preach at the 5 p.m. service at St. Michael’s, here at the Synod. So after a rest and finishing touches on the second sermon for the day, I walked the quarter of a mile to the Cathedral and led the vespers service. This is one of my favorite services for pure worship. That is because it is an informal service with contemporary praise music in English, songs that I have known from the States. This is one of those rare opportunities for the pastor to worship, not just lead worship. (Those who are pastors will understand this.) So, even though I was further “road testing,” I was also worshipping. The result was a great peace and strength that I can only praise God for. It was a wonderful time of worship, for me. I can’t evaluate the preaching objectively, but I can the praise. God was present in a wonderful way.

So it is with great delight that the “road tested one” has been released and is back to work with a strong hip and a refreshed spirit. Hopefully there will not need to be any further tuning or repairs for a good long time.

It's a Girl

Thousands of babies are born everyday but each one is, or at least should be, special to his or her own family and to the people around that family who care for them. If this is true, each birth is a gift from God. We as a family received a gift from God last week. Mphatso is the Chichewa word for gift and that is our new little one’s name.

Her parents, Thomas and Jean, decided on the name long before she was conceived, realizing that if they were to have another child, it would be a gift from God. Jean had had a 52 hour labor that was only ended successfully with a c-section when their first child Chimwemwe was born 4 years ago. Both mother and baby had nearly died. They were cautious to try again. In Malawi, 8.6 children out of 100 die before the age of one year old, according to the 2010 CIA World Face book statistics. (Don’t even ask about a .6^th of a child. These are statistics.) Most of them die shortly after birth, for a number of reasons from unavailable health services, and inadequate health care, to bad water and malaria. The list of causes seems endless. But the reality is real. It is so real that many expectant mothers won’t even discuss their pregnancy with anyone outside the family. It is considered bad manners to mention someone’s pregnancy to them. Everyone sees it, but won’t talk about it until the baby is born, when it is safer to discuss, when they can hold the baby.

Before considering another baby, Thomas and Jean had lengthy conversations about the risks and the best procedures to follow for a good outcome. Since they are living in a remote village area, more than an hour by motor bike from the nearest hospital, they decided that she should come to Blantyre for a doctor and for the birth. The doctor was adamant that the only safe delivery would be another c-section, given Jean’s history and health. So she came to stay with me as the date for the procedure got closer. When she went on a Thursday for a checkup with  two weeks to go, the doctor said she was ready and moved the date up to the following Tuesday. And so, last Tuesday, Mphatso was born at just over 8 lbs. She is healthy and so is her mother. We don’t take this for granted, in a country with the 12^th highest infant mortality rate in the world. This is a gift from God. As cries of life fill the house, we praise God for his mphatso to us as a family.

Mr. Linguja

Mr. Linguja has died at 92. He is one of the saints of the church. No, he will never be officially canonized by the larger church, but here in Blantyre, he will be remembered and his life celebrated. His funeral service bore witness to that.

Mr. Linguja was a quiet, gentle man of humble means. He was a member of Chigamula Congregation from the time it was a small village church of fewer than 200 people, a long walk from Limbe business center. Today the church is a congregation of well over 2,000, as the area has grown up with the business interests of Limbe, becoming an affluent suburb to the developing business center, a short drive to work. But in all of this, Mr. Linguja remained the same – a subsistence farmer who lived by faith. On his meager earnings, he and his wife supported the church, educated 5 children and managed to stay in their humble home up to the day of his death. He was an elder of the church for over 50 years, but that is only a title. He was a man who lived his faith and shared it with all around him. His testimony of God’s grace and provision was his favorite topic of conversation. The story changed with each day because God’s grace is fresh each day and always displays itself in new ways, he was quick to say.

There was nothing old about this man or his faith. He was among the pioneers of partnership between Pittsburgh and Blantyre Synod. This humble man of little formal education but great Bible knowledge, was one of the first missionaries to go to Pittsburgh from Blantyre in 1991, his first time out of southern Malawi at age 72. He was uncertain what he had to offer the trip or the new partners in Pittsburgh, but his pastor at the time, Rev. Dr. Silas Ncozana, encouraged him that his faith was more than enough to share. The church affirmed this by helping to sponsor him on the trip. The pastor was right. Mr. Linguja quickly became a favorite among the other missionaries and the partners for his words of encouragement and affirmation. There, as here, he carried his worn leather Bible but rarely had to read from it. He had memorized most of the passages that he used for the focus of his talks. (He never claimed to preach. He just shared who God was in his life and what he had done.) I had heard of Mr. Linguja long before I met him. When I met him, his broad grin and warm welcome won my heart. Then he shared his story of God’s faithfulness for that day, and I knew why everyone who met him talked about him as they did. He was a giant from the stories told of him, although he stood at a mere 5 feet, with hunched shoulders. When I had my first hip replacement, he traveled on 5 minibuses to come pray for me. I could barely stand, but he knelt before God on my behalf. I was humbled. In the last days before his death, he pleaded with his family to not make him eat so he could go more quickly to be with his God. He was ready. In the quiet of the night of February 26^th, surrounded by his family, he peacefully slipped into God’s presence.

His funeral was a celebration of his life. Seven clergy came to offer prayers and testimony. This happens for ranking Synod officials but here was a “mere Christian” who touched the lives of these servants of God. The service was held at the church rather than the home to accommodate the large congregation. Chigamula’s spacious new sanctuary was filled. His children and grandchildren sang a song they had shared together with him countless times, as a farewell to the body. His spirit is with Jesus. The spirit of his life will live in the hearts of those who knew him and loved him. The stories of his faith will inspire others to faithfulness. That is the mark of a saint.

Mr. Linguja, one of the saints of the church.