tumaini...it's all about hope

It's 2:30 a.m. and I'm awake.  Preparing for our early morning flight that will take us (eventually) to Kenya.  That's where we'll spend the next couple of weeks working with Tumaini International Ministries.  Tumaini, founded by Stanley and Rose Mutunga, is a Kiswahili word that means hope.  Their focus is to come alongside AIDS orphans, through sponsorship, education and encouragement, and walk with them in their journeys toward adulthood.  These kids have lost one or both parents to AIDS, and usually live with grandparents, other relatives or friends.  Life is hard at best, and sponsorship ($35 monthly) makes the difference between failure and success for hundreds of children, both young and old.

We'll leave LAX at 8:00 today and touch down in Nairobi about 7:30 Wednesday night (11 hours ahead of LA time).  All Thursday and Friday morning will be in this capital city of 4+ million, as we will visit different ministry sites in one of the largest slums in Africa.  Then Friday we'll travel 2-3 hours south and east, to the small community of Masii, where Tumaini has its offices.  Doctor Ron Jurgensen (my favorite dentist!) is with us again and we'll pull teeth for a week for those who'll walk for hours just to sit in his chair and find the relief his skills can bring.  We'll also visit some of the children that our church sponsors, as well as meet with the new church there as they are designing strategies for planting a church in the nearby city of Machakos.  It promises to be a great couple of weeks.

Our team of seven includes KACC and Parkcrest Christian Church (7th St. campus, Long Beach), and our desire is to continue to partner with Parkcrest in this ministry of compassion and church planting.  Please pray for us as we travel, adjust, connect and serve.  Pray for divine appointments with those who need to hear good news, and for boldness to share.  Pray for unity within our team a life-changing experience...for Kenyans and Americans alike.

I recently read some words in Psalms that spoke to me in a fresh way about Tumaini:

He [God] raises the poor out of the dust,

And lifts the needy out of the ash heap,

That He may seat them with princes-

With the princes of His people.

                                          Psalm 113:7,8

Tumaini's work has lifted hundreds of children and adults alike from the dust, from life's ash heap, and is even now preparing a new generation to sit with leaders and movers of their land.  Because they're giving an opportunity to those who needed it.  Because they're giving compassion and care to many for whom no one else cares. Because they're giving a vision to many who had lost sight of their futures.

Because they're giving hope.

shed a tear?

I cried this morning.

Maybe you saw the story in the news a couple of weeks ago. A homeless man in downtown Los Angeles was doused with gasoline by some youths and set on fire. Although people tried to extinguish the flames, it was too little, too late. He died.

When my son first told me of the incident, I shook my head and sighed. The travesty, the hideousness, the inequity of it all. But no tears. Today I took time to read about this man's life. As I read some of the back stories, I was again struck by that simple truth: everyone has a story, everyone has value, everyone is someone.

This man actually had a name- John Robert McGraham (this is him on left). He had a place he called home- 3rd and Berendo. He had friends- people who stopped to check in on him, who helped him with some necessities, who took him to clean up periodically. He had a story- he had once been a bellman at the nearby Ambassador Hotel before it closed. He suffered with depression and had been on the streets for twenty years. He, according to those who knew him, bothered no one, rarely asked for anything, and was a bright spot in the community. And I began to cry.

As I read his story and the responses of grief and love from those who knew him (some seen here at his funeral), I was torn within. How could something like this happen in our midst? Have we become so cold, so unfeeling, so cruel that we see no value in the lives of those we deem less than ourselves? These were (reportedly) youth that took John's life. What have we done that our children behave with no sense of conscience or morality? I cried a little more.

But John had great value in the eyes of his Creator. He had value in the lives of those who knew him. And he was no different than the many others we encounter on the corners and onramps of our lives as we hurry past. I know we don't actively seek their demise or destruction, but could our indifference, our lack of concern, or our own agendas potentially germinate within us the same kind of numbness found in these youth?

I'm not saying that we should necessarily go out and embrace all homeless (although Jesus did talk about giving a party and inviting those sorts, didn't he?). Only that when we pass by such people we acknowledge that they have value, they have a story, they have history. And that they matter to Someone, somewhere. And as He watches, I believe He cries.

For them. And for us.

give it away, give it away now

Still mulling the wealth stuff (see posts from the 12th and 14th):

Most of us understand the feeling of seeing or being met by a homeless person who wants something from us. You know the drill- become stoic, look away, pretend you have something of great importance on your sleeve or on the passenger seat of your car, pass by as if he or she isn't there, and (if all this fails to deter), just say "no." You know.

Oh, we have our reasons and justifications for not parting with our stuff just because they don't have stuff. And some of those reasons may be...well, reasonable. But did you ever consider that sometimes you need to respond- not just for their sakes, but for YOURS?

Case in point: My family and I lived in the Philippines, the last six years in the mountain city of Baguio. It's a beautiful city, cool and often rainy, with a dampness that penetrates to your bones. You know the kind of dampness I'm talking about. One day as my wife Liz and I are leaving the market, we see a man sitting against a wall with a cup in front of him, begging for change. Actually, he is not doing anything, as his head is down between his knees, he looks as if he is mentally impaired (there's a fair amount of Baguio beggars like that), his bony body shivering.

As we pass by, Liz looked at him, then at me, and said, "I have to buy him a blanket." I agreed, although I reminded her that he would probably not have that blanket tomorrow, as his handlers (those who house many like him, taking the money they make as they provide room and board in return), would undoubtedly take it from him if no one else did first. "That's okay," she said. "I need to do it."

We doubled back to the market, purchased a locally woven blanket, and then proceeded to drape it around the quaking shoulders of this shell of a man. As we did so, I could feel the glare of those passing by, people snickering at us for being so "foolish," telling each other that the puraos (whites) were wasting money for something that would so quickly disappear. Sure enough, the next day the man was there at his post, curled up, quivering in the cold with his beggar's cup...and no blanket.

We could have considered our act of compassion to be a waste of time and money- except for one thing. God had impressed upon Liz's heart to give, and in that moment she responded to His prompting. She recognized that sometimes the call to share is not only for the recipient but also for the giver. She knew that each time God moves our hearts to act in love and we refuse, our hearts become a little harder- and less apt to respond the next time. And she did not (and does not) want a hardened heart before the Lord. So she gave, not just because a man was cold, but also because she did not want to become cold.

I know there are those always asking, always taking, always expecting something from us. We won't give to everyone. We probably can't. But we can ask God to keep our hearts soft, our grips loose, and our eyes focused on the needs of those around us.

Not only for them, but for our own souls as well.