Nairobi was not what I expected. In many ways, it looked like most modern
cities. It didn’t conform to my image of
Africa.
Nairobi was merely the point of embarkation for the reality
of Kenya, a land of contrasts. Distance
from Nairobi provides a scale with which to measure, to place in perspective,
the glimpses afforded us on our journey of both spiritual growth and cultural
awareness.
Beauty was everywhere in the Kenyan countryside. Tea plantations, flowers in profusion, banana
trees, green hillsides, eucalyptus trees, and brightly colored clothes adorning
the people were a visual delight providing unending variety.
Except in the enclaves of privacy, remnants of British
Colonialism, people were everywhere.
Walking, selling, bicycling, riding motorcycles, crowding into matatus (local version of a taxi),
washing clothes in roadside streams, or merely milling in groups of varying
sizes, people were everywhere. They
represented various tribes that once lived in homelands destroyed by the
well-intentioned colonial system of integration that was designed to transfer
loyalty from the local chieftain to the Commonwealth. Now mixed in all their variety, tribal
identities were still visible in associations and in physical features only.
Scattered throughout were the impoverished and the marginalized.
Distance from Nairobi served merely to emphasize the depth
of poverty among the people. Near the
capitol city, the slums were pushed to waste lands, away from the bright gems
of modernity. As distance multiplied, the
gems became fewer and the poverty overwhelming.
HIV is one of the culprits.
With one of the highest rates of AIDS in the world, Kenyan is home to a huge
number of widows and orphans. These
outcasts from society due to the stigma of a father dead from AIDS, spend their
days struggling for survival. Whether
selling produce from a tiny garden at the speed bumps placed along the
highways, or depending on neighbors and relatives for food, these victims of
the HIV pandemic fight daily just to live.
They are ripe for exploitation.
The churches springing up among these most vulnerable people
are seen as a refuge from exploitation.
They are a place of belonging for those who no longer belong. They are a community to which the love of
Christ draws inexorably those who crave love most desperately. They are a source of hope in an otherwise
hopeless existence.
How can such churches survive when there is no support? How can a congregation that consists of the
impoverished provide the help for daily sustenance that is so desperately
needed? How can the pastors who seek to
serve these needy believers support themselves while giving endlessly to those
who are even needier?
The bi-vocational pastors that I met in the Western
Highlands of Kenya give their all to serve their congregants and their God. They struggle to support their own families
while providing for the needs of those who depend on them for spiritual
guidance. With offerings that often fail
to exceed the equivalent of $1.50 on a Sunday, how are these pastors to
continue? Many are disheartened – almost
to the point of despair.
A stigma attaches to those who seem unable to live up to the
expectations of their neighbors. This is
true in every society. Just look at the
pressure to “succeed” that is evident in every community in the United
States. Imagine a situation where one is
seeking to do the very best for their “flock” of believers only to fall under
the judgmental eye of neighbors who mockingly accuse them of being unable to
care for their own family. Many of the
pastors to the impoverished of Kenya feel that this is their case.
Schooling in Kenya is not free. Tuition is required to educate children at
every grade level. With the struggle for
daily bread occupying every free moment, the bi-vocational pastors who give
generously to the widows and orphans in their congregations, often find
themselves unable to meet the required tuition to educate their own
children. Such an example is often felt
to be an impediment to effective outreach to evangelize their communities. It is a situation that could easily be
remedied by the wealth of fellow Christians in the United States.
Why is it that we see ourselves helpless to do anything as
we wallow in relative luxury while those who are truly doing the work of the
church – sharing the love of Jesus and making disciples – struggle just to feed
and educate their family? We own
multiple cars while pastors in Kenya must pay more than they can afford to ride
on the back of a motorcycle to a conference where they can meet with other
pastors serving similar congregations.
We complain if we miss a meal that contains more calories than most of
the orphans and widows in the slums of Kenya will receive over several
days. It is a ringing indictment against
the church in the U.S. that we fight over buildings and parking lots when new
churches in the slums of Kenya are meeting in metal-sided sheds or under
trees. Do we truly serve Jesus, or do we
merely serve ourselves? I think our
Father in Heaven has given us the answer.
“For God so loved the
world that he gave his one and only Son that whoever believes in Him should not
perish but have eternal life.” -- John
3:16
