All my bags are packed and I'm ready to go...

That's right... I'm outta here!

No... don't freak out! I'm not moving to Siberia or anything. I'm just moving to a new blog.

Basically, "Hope from Malawi" is a bit outdated these days. Not that there is no longer "hope" in Malawi, but, well... there is no longer "Ryan" in Malawi.

But, fear not... you will still be able to stalk me and my happenings at an all new and improved location:

blog.ryanpricephoto.com

Now... for those of you who knew me prior to my "Hope from Malawi" days, you may recall that I had a blog with a very similar name. Well... names are hard to come by, and take a lot of creativity... and I quite like that name... so, I kept it. What I didn't keep is the same blog service. I switched to Wordpress.

So... All you people that keep a blogroll with my name on it, please change the link!! Please... seriously... I'm begging you! Take the 5 seconds it takes to do this and change it. It's a pet peeve of mine when people don't have accurate links. So, humor me and DO IT! OK... I'll step off my soapbox now...

I will keep this blog up (but probably not up-to-date). Who knows... maybe I will keep it up to date with the latest from Malawi. But, for now it will remain dormant, yet accessible to all who want to relive the time spent in Malawi.

So... check out the new look at the new place and leave me a comment or something so I will feel important!

Pastors' Book Set Conferences

In May and June, SIM Malawi is undertaking an once-in-a-lifetime project to provide 2,000 Malawian pastors and church leaders with the unprecedented opportunity to receive their own personal library of 65 books — resources that will equip and empower their ministries.

This Pastors’ Book Set project is a series of four week-long conferences that will provide vital training and resources for church leaders in Malawi - where it is estimated that less than 5% of all pastors are seminary-educated.

Each pastor will pay US$75. The actual cost of the conference and library is US$150 per participant. Please join us in praying that God will provide the resources for as many pastors as possible to attend. If you would like to partner with us or know anyone who would, contributions can be directed to project #96558 and sent to your national SIM office. Each $75 raised will cover the costs for one pastor to attend. Thank you for praying with us!

For more information, visit http://www.sim.org/index.php/project/96558

Jane

I pulled this straight off of my friend/ex-coworker's blog. I know it's a copyright infringement, but honestly, there isn't a lot she can do to prosecute me from Malawi.

This is the story about a lady named Jane that I had the opportunity to meet and on one occasion transport to the hospital while in Malawi. Cynthia did a great job portraying who she was and what Home-based Care looks like in Malawi. So, I thought you may be interested.

You can check out her blog at cynthiainnes.blogspot.com

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A few minutes after my alarm rang this morning, the text came through.

"Jane Banda, Naotcha patient, is dead."

I first met Jane last October. I was filming for HOPE for AIDS, SIM Malawi's HIV and AIDS ministry, and that day's shooting took me to Naotcha, a mountainside village on the outskirts of Blantyre, where HOPE for AIDS runs a home-based care program.

Home-based care is exactly what it sounds like. Each week, small groups of volunteers gather together to visit a number of sick individuals in their community. Sometimes they bring household supplies - sugar, soap; sometimes they help around the home with cleaning or cooking. They are trained to offer advice that will encourage patients to live healthy lifestyles. They always pray with the patients, and always share the hope of Christ. They care for people who need it most.

I had inquired with one of the missionary nurses who works with the Naotcha home-based care volunteer team as to whether there might be a patient in their visitation rotation who would be willing to share about her life with AIDS and the role HOPE for AIDS home-based care was playing in it. Was there maybe someone who, like me, believed that if they could share their story, some attention might be brought to this epidemic that was missing before - that some heart might be moved to action, an action that would join with many others to bring an end to death by AIDS? Without hesitation, Jane Banda was asked. I wasn't in her home long before I understood why. Jane was genuine hope.

I sat in her living room with the volunteers, Mr. Banda and Jane's sister. Jane, dressed in her best, crawled into the room. Legs too weak to allow her to stand on her feet, she wobbled determined on all fours to her chair, and shaking, pulled herself up, slowly settling into her seat. She straightened her skirt. Adjusted her top. Looked straight at me. And offered me her biggest, most welcoming smile, reflecting up into her gentle brown eyes.

I visited Jane once more after that first day. She allowed me to film the home-based care visit. She spoke on camera about her life, her little boy who was off at school, her hopes for her son, her dreams for herself. The disease that she lived with. The sicknesses she was now plagued with because of her body's vulnerability. The hope in her life even this disease could not destroy. And each time, as her language was translated into mine, I grew to know a woman who was every bit like me - but stronger for fighting a battle she should not be in, yet refusing to be overcome.

The months passed, but I didn't visit Jane again. I thought of her often as I edited my footage, shaping the story of HOPE for AIDS, incorporating her gentle spirit into a film that would soon be taken around the world. I heard about her trips in and out of hospital. I sent a Christmas gift. She asked her home-based care volunteers about me. I sent my greetings.

And life went on. Until sometime last night, when Jane's life on earth ended.

Though I had thanked her, I'm not sure she could understand how her own willingness to be open about her life with AIDS would touch my life, and how her willingness to share her life on camera could touch the hearts of people on the other side of the world. And how perhaps sharing her fight could possibly negate a fight for someone coming after her.

This is the hope we share. That someday there will be no more AIDS waged in bodies that cannot fight back.

That someday, Jane, this fight you fought will no longer be repeated.
This Jane, is my prayer.


www.hopeforaids.org

Hit the Ground Running

Well... my feet are officially on American soil, but I kinda feel like I'm walking in opposite directions from the rest of the world. I mean, driving down the road still feels a bit awkward and out of place. And yesterday as I was visiting with my grandparents just talking about random things, they just stopped and looked at each other and said, "honey, what do you think about that accent our boy has?" All the while, I was thinking that I was quickly regaining my Texas drawl. Apparently not!

All in all, I'm feeling really great about seeing people again and eating food that I love. Last night, we ate shrimp and oysters, and then chased it down with root beer floats! Can you get any better than that?

The night before, we eagerly made our way into a cool Mexican food restaurant to devour the essence of all things pure. About an hour later, I burst through the front door of the place in a much different mood, and quickly made my way to the flower bed in front of my car where I upchucked every ounce of food I had just placed in my body. It was at this point that I realized I have a long road ahead. Reconditioning my body to America will be a process. I just love the irony of the fact that 9 months of living in Malawi equalled never being sick, but the first real day back in America ended with chunks of enchilada sprinkled on my sandals.

Other than that, I feel like my transition back into this world is going better than expected. Although the 5 leg flight back to Houston was long and tiresome, I managed to make it with very little problems, all my luggage and no one weighing my over sized bags! Thanks for praying!

My schedule for the next week is to be in Vidor until Wednesday and then head up to Bryan/College Station through the weekend. After that, I don't really know the specs, but I will make my way to Austin and back through Vidor and wherever else I can manage. So, I want to see you!

I am officially in the air... hopefully!

I will be traveling from continent to continent [via South Africa, London, Chicago, Charlotte, Houston] over the next several days.

PRAY!

As much as I like traveling and stuff... I'm pretty sure that traveling doesn't like me! On my way here back in September, as I stood in line to get on the last leg of my grueling flight, I realized that I didn't have a ticket on me for that one. In panic mode, I managed to talk my way on that flight... pretty much because I just have mad skills like that!

Then... the other day, while flipping through all my travel documents, I realized once again that I don't have any ticket to speak of in my possession! So, we have been on the phone with people for the last few days trying to sort if out. It's not quite as easy as one might think.

Nonetheless... I am going to step out in faith and board a plane leaving from Blantyre. I need you to pray that I will be able to board a plane in Johannesburg, London, Chicago and Charlotte. Seriously, airport people are so finicky! They could let me on in one place and then tell me there's no way in the next.

So... please... if you ever want to see my face again... PRAY ME HOME!

See you soon [depending on where you are reading this from]!

Reflections Series [3]...

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Confessions of a Western Missionary

Friday, November 2, 2007

OK… I admit it…

I write with the assumption that you know exactly what’s going on in my head and around me each day.

I don’t really stop to think that you may not really know me. Only a small handful of the people reading this (who am I kidding… that’s probably all there is anyway) really know the heart behind each word that I write. I assume that you have sat down with me over a long cup of coffee and talked through some of the things that I have been processing through over the last several years.

Things like…

What does faith in Jesus look like?

Why does the majority of the world hate Americans?

Why do I get to choose from 30 varieties of coffee?

Stuff like that.

So… I write. And, it rarely comes across right. Such is life I guess. Such is the internet! I mean… I would much rather magically fly each person that visits my blog to Malawi and have each of you just sit down over a nice cup of tea with me and talk about this stuff. If you could bring some chips and hot sauce and perhaps a grand piano with you as well, that would just about complete my happy place.

OK… time to pinch myself and wake up! That’s not gonna happen!

So… I’ve come to realize that part of being raised in the West (or probably just being “raised” anywhere… although I can only speak from the West) is that you think you have things figured out. I mean, if you are culturally savvy, you recognize other points of view as legit in public settings, but when you lay your head down at night, you mostly just pray that people will change and become like you. Am I right?

I’m guilty… Confession #1.

Confession #2…

I really struggle with not being able to logically figure things out. I see a problem and I know that there has to be a solution. I don’t care too much for trial and error. I would rather work by myself to get it done “right”. Am I alone out here?

Trouble is… that just doesn’t work out here. I’m not too sure who’s bright idea it was for us to take the things that work well for us in the West and try to transfer that to a different culture… But, they must have just been smokin’ crack! You just can’t do that. My Western ideas are rubbish around here. That’s just the simple truth.

Confession #3…

I think that I know Jesus better than the rest of the world. The only reason I was able to type that is because I know that deep down, you probably think the same thing. So, don’t go throwin’ stones at me… I’m just being honest. Because God has blessed me in an unbelievable way with the gift of literacy (which I will never again take for granted)… and I have the resources to be reading 5 different books at the same time, with about 30 more desperately waiting for me to shut the others (which I am currently doing)… I think that, obviously, I know more about God, and can therefore please Him more than… say an illiterate person living in a remote village.

Is it getting hot in here? I’m sweating a little…

If you read my previous post, dealing with issues about discipleship, you can probably see this coming out a bit. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not changing my stance on discipleship. I still think that it is foundational. But, I am beginning to realize that true discipleship is not about throwing your opinions and thoughts on to someone else. It’s about walking on a spiritual journey together with someone else. Both of you, learning along the way.

So what… I can read! Who died and said that was the end all of life. The reality is… half the stuff I read, I don’t even come close to putting into practice in my daily life. If you are honest with yourself… you would have to agree. In the West, we like to pat ourselves on the back for being about to find the book of Habakkuk in under 30 seconds, but we can’t even begin to understand things about the spiritual world like people in Africa can. Just typing that, I know that I already freaked a bunch of people out. Those are the sections of our Bibles that we like to skip over, or water down and make them sound logical. That stuff is just as much a reality, and in my opinion, much more of a necessity, than memorizing John 3:16. Don’t get me wrong… there is a lot of “spiritual” stuff that is straight from Satan… I’m not endorsing that the church should accept that. I’m just saying that I can’t even begin to comprehend the spiritual depths of Biblical things that people around here can.

They also have much to teach us about generosity as well. I’m sure I will write much more about this in the future… but, just read Acts 4:32, and you will get a pretty good picture of what Malawi looks like. I think we struggle more with this one verse in the West than any other verse in the Bible. So much so, that as western missionaries, we do our best to try and get people to stop doing it. It really bothers us that Malawians will just as soon give all of their savings to their cousin who needs to put a new roof on his house, than to put it up for retirement. Who seems to be living more Biblically in this scenario?

In my last post, I wrote about a quote that says: “Christianity in Africa is a mile wide and only and inch deep.”

This quote was obviously written by a Westerner that needs to question their own society. I mean… I guess if you are measuring “Christianity” by the size of your church and the number of people on your worship team, you may have a point. Or maybe you are using the per capita “Bible per household” ratio. Or maybe it’s that Western kids can recite the books of the Bible at incredible speeds… yup, that’s probably the deciding factor.

Sorry… I’m cynical… It’s a sin, I know!

I believe… and I may be completely wrong… that faith and discipleship just look a little bit different here.

We need to be extremely careful when we “disciple” people, that we take off all our cultural clothes. Standing naked, except for the Word of God. There is a lot of stuff that we believe with all our heart to be “Biblical”, but in reality it is simply cultural. That stuff needs to be left at the baggage claim.

I saw a sign in the bathroom of a Christian health clinic the other day that read: “Cleanliness is next to Godliness… Wash your hands and flush!”

I heard that a million times growing up. It’s not a bad idea to wash your hands after being so close to feces… I know that. But, I think that after years of saying that, we have come to think that it is Biblical. It’s not.

If we’re not careful, we will start doing that with other, more serious principles. We will hold on so tight to things we swear to be truth… that we will think that the rest of the world has to be headed to Hell right behind everyone else that we disagree with.

Let Scripture stand alone.

I don’t know… maybe you have already figured all of this out for yourself. Me… I’ve had to learn the hard way on a lot of it.

I just don’t want people to think that I am sitting over here eating mangos with everything figured out. Other than the mango part… that is far from the truth! I get up each day and wrestle through stuff.

But… realizing that I have much to learn from the people that I thought I would be “teaching”, was a step in the right direction for me.

I confess… I’m still on this journey.

Saying Goodbyes...

Is this not the coolest thing in the entire world?!?

Talea and Liala (2 of the 4 German kids that live on the same property as me) made this for me. They are such amazing kids, and I will miss them like crazy!

Notice the resemblance between them and their picture. Normally their hair is always in a side pony-tail like the drawing though.

Reflections Series [2]...

If you haven't read the first of these posts... read at least the beginning part to know what's going on. I've enjoyed this little unveiling of sorts of people that read and don't normally comment as well... so, if you're still one of those people... now is your time!

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Go and Make _____?
October 31, 2007

A lot of what I have been processing through lately has led me to some interesting conclusions.

Perhaps they aren’t conclusions at all… Maybe they are just more questions.

But, since I’ve been here, I’ve had to come to grips with the fact that there are a ton of people here doing development work. A TON!

Just about every single organization that I have talked with has a different take on development. What works best? What does a Christian development/mission agency look like? How can we make what we’re doing here sustainable after we leave?

Those are all very hard questions, with answers that are rarely black and white.

With all of the organizations and approaches that I have seen over the last few months, I have seen ones that are working great and ones that are doing a really crappy job.

So… I’m trying to figure out what I think about all this. More importantly, what God thinks about this? What does the Bible say regarding missions and development? So… trek with me on this little process of my thoughts.

Jesus gives us two clear commandments: GO and MAKE (Matthew 28:19)

Now… the question becomes… Where are we supposed to go? What are we supposed to make? Those are very important questions to have to right answers to, right?

It seems like we are pretty clear on the GO part of the commandment. We are all pretty sure that Jesus meant for us (the Body of Christ) to go to all nations. It seems like most churches have a pretty good grasp on that. Some are doing much better with it than others, but most Bible-believing churches feel that it is important to at least set aside some money to send people around the world.

However, things start getting really fuzzy when we get to the second part of the commandment. MAKE. What are we commanded to make?

Make money? … No.

Make babies? … No … although not a bad idea!

Make people happy? … No … although widely popular.

Make people not die as fast, and their bellies not stick out so far? … No … although it is a sad tragedy that this is the case in a world full of affluence like we live in.

Make converts to Christianity? … No … although many would disagree with me on that one.

We are commanded to do one thing...

MAKE DISCIPLES.

A disciple is not a convert. A disciple is not just a “Christian” like we have come to understand Christianity today.

A disciple looks a lot like Jesus… not just with their words, but with their entire life.

The reality is… the church has historically done a horrible job of making disciples.

There is a saying that says: “Christianity in Africa is a mile wide, but only an inch deep."

Although, I would have to say that I have met some really amazing followers of Jesus here in Malawi, there are thousands of people that claim to be “Christians”, but know nothing about it. That is of very little fault of their own. I believe that is because the Christianity that we have presented to people places very little value on discipleship. The Disciple-er will be accountable for that one.

OK… So, here is where I want you to follow my thought process. See, the more and more I follow after Jesus and try my hardest to live out His Word, the more I see how much it really is truth. For years, I accepted the Bible as “God’s Word”, but in reality, I really didn’t think it was all that applicable to our culture today. My thoughts always trumped the Bible. My culture always trumped the Bible. But, through experience, I am learning over and over again that as goofy as things in Scripture may seem when you read them, they really are truth… and they really do work!

Back to Malawi…

The reality is, there are problems on so many levels. It’s not just in this country… it’s that way in many developing countries.

There are problems like HIV/AIDS that affect a person and a family at the micro level… but, behind most of the individual problems, you will find a structural problem. These are at the macro level. The government. The cultural norms. Stuff like that.

So, as a missionary that is focusing most of your time on social issues, like helping people with AIDS, or trying to eradicate poverty, you spend your time trying to build things up from the bottom. You work with an individual to empower them, ect.

But, as a foreigner, I’m not allowed to vote. I shouldn’t be making structural changes in a society that is not my own… that needs to come from people within. So, in a way, my hands are tied. Yeah, I can bandage a wound and tell people that Jesus loves them, but I can’t do much that is lasting.

But, if we return to Scripture and heed Jesus’ call to make disciples, a lot of that will be taken care of from within.

A disciple will have a servant’s heart. A disciple will want to fight injustices in their society. A disciple will care for those around them that are suffering. A disciple will fight corruption.

You see where I’m going with this.

Here are the problems that I am seeing…

All of this aid money is flowing into developing countries from the West. However, when it crosses that big ocean, much of it gets filtered through a huge funnel of corruption and selfishness. There are stories all the time of high level officials that are caught using international aid funding for their personal gain. These officials get bigger houses and better cars, and there are still millions that are left starving and dying of preventable diseases in their countries. The problem there is lack of morals. Selfishness. The opposite of Jesus.

Many of the wealthy Malawians that I have met have come from a background of extreme poverty. They have worked their tails off to get out of that position. They have a nice place to live now, and their family is taken care of. But, somewhere in that jump from poverty to comfort, many people have lost their compassion for the poor. I think that many of us would do the exact same thing. Just like in the West, they have had the taste of money, and can't get enough.

I see it a lot even in the churches. Many churches are presenting this half-gospel that tells people that God wants everyone to become rich and “serve no man”. Why should we be surprised that that message is rampant in Africa, when it was born in the West. We have forgotten that the call of Christ is to become lowly. To serve. To sacrifice.

So… here’s my vision.

To see a group of Malawians catch the true heart of Christ.

Don’t get me wrong… there are Malawians that have a greater faith than I can imagine, and are serving their communities in powerful ways.

But, as I sit with a group of youth, who have just finished secondary school and are stepping up to become the new face of Malawi… I just desperately want them to catch the heart of Christ.

I would love to see them take their education… take their talents and gifts… and do things that foreign developmental agencies would never think of doing.

There is so much potential!

So… I think that Jesus was on to something when he just said for us to just “go and makes some disciples”.

Not… go cure all the world’s ills.

Just go and change the way people see the world around them. I mean… that’s basically what the gospel does when it truly penetrates our hearts right? It completely changes the way we think and the way we see.

So… what do you think? I want some thoughts about this. Help me process through this one… Am I being “narrow-minded”? … Where should Christians draw a line?

Reflections Series [1]...

Well... in just a few days, I'll load my American sized* allotment of luggage into the car and head to the airport. This week has more or less been designated to packing and taking care of all the loose ends around here. I think that in order to avoid really accomplishing anything (such as organizing my luggage), I have just sat around on my computer finding funny new websites that take my mind off of things, as well as reading back over some older stuff I wrote on here.

You would think that with all this extra time to kill, I would be throwing tons of new posts up here for you guys to read about what's going on. But, honestly, I'm just kinda not feeling all that creative, and uninspired to write.

However, as I read through some of the things that I wrote early on in my time here, it was really cool to remember what I was thinking then. Some of those things had already entered that part of my long-term memory that doesn't allow things to resurface for another few years. I also know that since posting some things, I have new and different people that now visit my blog.**

So, I figured that for the next few days before I leave, I am going to feature an older post that I really liked for everyone to read again (or for the first time). This allows me to continue to be seemingly uncreative, but still feel like I'm doing something!

Enjoy...

*Americans get considerably larger luggage allotments than any other country in the entire world. I'm convinced that this is one of the primary reasons why so many people hate us.

**If you read my blog, I want to know who you are! It's OK to be a creepy blog stalker for a few weeks or even months... but eventually you must come out and reveal yourself. So, leave some comments and let me know who you are!

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Tomatoes In Spaghetti

Friday, October 5, 2007

Tonight I sit. I sit and wonder where to begin. The depths of this culture, and the weight of its problems have just been splattered in my face like a child sneaking up behind me and squirting me in the eyes with a water pistol. No warning. Completely caught off guard. I find myself blinded by the very thing I'm attempting to wrap my head around.

Disillusioned. I feel a bit disillusioned about what is really happening around me. I guess when it all comes at you at once, you just kind of throw up both fists and close your eyes. I read all these books and do my best to be an activist when I'm in the US, but when I get here and those words on the pages are suddenly selling me tomatoes in the market, I find it hard to transfer. How do I get from ink on a page to real skin and bones with blood flowing through their veins?

I guess it's human nature. When you encounter things of such extreme magnitude, the human mind must just slip on its magical glasses that allows you to look directly at someone and not have a clue about what they live like each day. For some extremely odd reason, it is easier for me to ignore poverty over here. Did I just write that? Even in my head, it makes absolutely no sense! I don't know how I can live on the same piece of property as a man, his wife, two children and flock of chickens, and never pause to think about what he must be thinking about. What does poverty feel like? What does your stomach feel like, in the depths of you, when you are malnourished?

Terms. We love terms. We like it even more to just put a term on someone.

Orphan... A child with no parents. That's easy enough. I can sleep comfortably at night with that term. How does it feel to watch and attempt to process through your parents dieing in front of your very eyes at the age of four? It's completely out of my realm of thought. What does it feel like now, five years later, when the people taking care of you have lost interest in you? You feel like you're not human? "Do I deserve this?", you must think. "Maybe I do deserve this. Maybe I am second class."

Poverty. Apparently this term puts you under some imaginary line that we've formulated. When someone is "below the poverty line" we can easily wash out their face and chunk them in the pile with the rest of the faceless numbers that we like to strategize about. What does it feel like? What goes through your head when you know these few bites of nsima aren't going to keep your child from waking up half-way through the night screaming for more to eat? Does it seem harder to breathe when you feel the weight of all your problems stacking up on your head like water basin after water basin? Do you live in fear that at any second, you'll step on a rock, loose balance, and the water will plummet to the ground?

Poverty. We just love that word! We love to slap it on the covers of trendy magazines. Toss it around over a cup of coffee with friends. Say it oh so strategically in a campaign speech. It's just become one of those "all-American words" these days. We love that word! But, I hate what that word has done in me! Like a dusty wind, it has dried all the tears from my eyes. If it's too hard to grasp what it feels like, then I guess I just shouldn't even bother reaching.

So, I find myself at the market, starring into the eyes of a person... not a word on a page in a book on my shelf in my air-conditioned house. This is real. This person has kids, probably playing around behind the market, waiting for their mom to sell just a few more tomatoes and maybe tonight they will be able to have a nibble of chicken with their nsima. So, I look at this person. What do I see? I see a blur. They are talking, but I simply hear words. I'm thinking about two things... tomatoes and kwacha (money). Surely 15 cents is entirely too much for four tomatoes, I must get her down to 12 cents. So... I do. And I walk home with my bags full of vegetables and my pockets full of kwacha... and I make spaghetti.

What did tomato lady do tonight? You think that even passed through my mind? She lives over in that distant place called "poverty". At some point I will devise a cure-all program for her and all the rest of her faceless friends. But, for tonight... there's spaghetti... and it tastes good!! When I'm done with that, I'll make some tea, grab a book and read a little... write in my journal about that place called "poverty" and then mosey on to bed. Of course, not before a nice bath at just the right temperature.

Man... that spaghetti sure was good!

Pastors' Book Set Conference

This afternoon I found myself sitting on the back row of a large church filled with pastors from around the area with this cool feeling deep down inside me.

Today we launched the first of four major conferences called the Pastors' Book Set in Malawi.

Basically, SIM found a way to get together a collection of over 60 books that would be helpful for pastors and buy them at cost or less. Then, we raised some money for this massive project and have asked pastors to contribute $75 to attend this 5 day conference and walk away at the end of the week with this amazing collection of books valued at several hundred dollars.

As I arrived at the venue early this morning to help with registration, the line of pastors was already getting long. There was excitement among each one of them. As I hung out there all day and was able to mingle around a bit, I realized for the first time how great this thing that we had been planning for months and months really is.

Just before leaving to come back to Blantyre this afternoon, as I was sitting on the back row of the church, looking over row after row of heads eagerly soaking up all that the speaker was saying about developing a passion about proclaiming the Word of God, I just felt this cool rush come over me.

One of the things that has been on my heart most while living here in Malawi and experiencing life here is that there is a huge need for good discipleship. There are a ton of "Christians", but few people that truly know what it means to follow Christ fully... that even goes for "pastors".

But, I was able to sit there on that back row, confident that for the next five days, this room full of leaders would hear truth... and they were soaking it up. Even more encouraging than that was the fact that the majority of the speakers were from within Malawi... and what little I heard thoroughly impressed me.

It gave me great hope. A renewed hope that God is still working powerfully in Malawi. His work here has very little to do with me or my contributions. He is at work in bringing every person to glorify His name... and there is a room full of people right now that are extremely eager to do that.

Please pray for these conferences. From now until the end of June, we will have four different conferences in different parts of Malawi, with the potential for 2000 pastors to attend. Pray that these Pastors would hear truth and apply it to their lives. Pray against schemes of the enemy to stop these from happening. Pray that these would be more than simply "conferences" where people leave with a bag full of books. Pray for discipleship in Malawi.

Saying Goodbye to Chapananga...

The beginning of the end has officially begun for me. In a week and a half I'll be bidding farewell to the beautiful Malawi. So, this week I had my last visit to one of our Home-Based Care sites in the rural areas.

Chapananga is one of my favorite sites. It's not really because it's pretty or the accommodation is nice... it's quite the opposite. We rent out a little house there for 400MK ($2.85) a month for us to stay in when we go down. On this trip, I decided that I would just go all out and travel like a Malawian. Basically, I just packed a shirt to change in to for the next day and a pillow. I slept on a reed mat on the floor with just a sheet. I even decided to forgo the mosquito net (I can say those things now, because I'm about to leave and can't really get in trouble)!

But, the reason I love Chapananga so much is the people there. I don't know what it is about them, but I just really click with them. I love to try out my Chichewa skills when I go down there. I love to joke with the older guys about things. I love to see the hope and vision of the younger ones. They're just a cool group!

One of the perks of the sleep over was being able to watch a group do a drama based on one of the peer education sessions that a friend and myself wrote. It was really great too! They did such an awesome job. It gave me such hope and excitement that there was such talent and motivation in such a rural setting. I believe they really will be able to make a difference.

I left there feeling really good about my time in Malawi. It was a really awesome thing to listen to them praying as we were leaving and catching a few lines in Chichewa about asking God to be with "Lioni" (me) on my journey back to America.

It is definitely a weird feeling to know that most likely, I will never see those people again. But, God is developing a really cool peace in my heart about all of it.

Chapananga Home-Based Care Volunteers...

(sporting their band new t-shirts!)

Home-Based Care visit in Chapananga

Mulanje or Bust...

"I lift my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from?
My helps comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth.
He will not let your foot slip,
He who watches over you will not slumber;
Indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord watches over you, the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
The sun will not harm you by day nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from all harm,
He will watch over your life;
The Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore."
~Psalm 121

This passage was cycled on repeat in my head last week over and over again as I found myself scaling up the side of the third tallest mountain in Africa.

Mount Mulanje is a mountain full of surprises. For instance, the standard picture that everyone sees of the mountain is this...

It looks big and all, but you tend to think... "I can handle that... no biggie."

Well... I found this to be a very misleading ideal. This picture in fact is no where near the height of the mountain, but merely the first level that veils the true summit hidden within.

We spent our first full day in staircase mode. It was absolutely grueling! The group of eight of us was constantly stopping, because each of our bodies were screaming to us at different times. The only consolation for the agony was the fact that it was an absolutely beautiful day. There are always clouds hovering atop the mountain... but for some reason, it was crystal clear on this day. So, we were able to take in some spectacular views.

Despite the gorgeous scenery, day 1 would not be a day that I will look back fondly on. Once we climbed uphill for a few hours, we reached a plateau of sorts. The rest of the day would be relatively flat. Praise God! However, my legs were still a little bitter about what I had previously exposed them to, and they weren't going to let me off the hook just because I fed them some boiled eggs and a tangerine!

As we began walking again after lunch, I began to get some slight cramps in my legs. "Slight" quickly turned in to "extreme"! At one point, I felt the cramps coming on and began shedding my gear.... by the time my backpack hit the ground, my legs had both completely locked up with cramps up and down them, and I simply fell like a tree to the ground and squirmed for a while. It was sheer agony! I thought I was just gonna have to jump off the mountain and call it a day. Despite the fact that I felt like someone was digging into my body with a machete, everyone around me found amusement in my sufferings! In attempts to alleviate the pain, I was doing some pretty bizarre things with my body. We ended up calling it the "white-boy tribal dance". I will never forget the look on the face of one of our porters while he was watching me. He probably thought I had just loaded up on heroine or something.

Needless to say, by the time we reached our destination the first night, we were forced to have a little "come to Jesus" meeting and rethink our plans for reaching the summit.

It was rather quickly decided that we would go with the Malawian cultural practice in regard to the summit and stay away! The very name of it, Sepitwa, translated means "never go there".

Although my pride was a little dented, I knew that it would be better to come home with both legs than to come home with extra pride. So, I didn't mind all that much that we had to change the plan.

After that first day though, my legs forgave me and we moved on. The next two days of hiking were hard, but I didn't really have any troubles. When you are in such an amazing environment, you just can't think about how bad everything hurts for too long.

I think that one of the other highlights of the trip was that it was basically like a three day crash course in Winter for me. You see, I've pretty much skipped a whole season in my life. When I left the States, it was hot. When I got to Malawi it was hot. Pretty much the entire time I've been here it's been hot... and when I return it will be even hotter! But, three days on top of a mountain will do the trick. Nights were bitter cold. We took turns waking up at night to keep the fire ablaze as we were buried beneath layers of clothes and heavy sleeping bags. So, with my long-sleeves and new scarf on, I was understandably giddy!

As we began our decent on the last day, there was only one thing on everyone's mind... pizza! As soon as we hit the bottom, we loaded up in the cars and headed to this little Italian restaurant in the middle of nowhere and had amazing brick oven pizzas. I just don't think pizza will ever taste the same again.

All in all, climbing Mulanje was an incredible experience. I learned more about myself, about God and about the amazingness of His creation.

Enjoy a few pictures...

This is the crew (minus the photographer, Candy)

Chombe Peak... This is basically a mountain on top of a mountain!

These are just different peaks that are all considered part of Mulanje...

This is me in my poofy pants looking like a lumberjack!

The last day was wet and cold!

A cool tree on the side of a cliff...

See a slideshow of all my photos from Mulanje

Gladys' Story...

A little over a month ago, my neighbor returned from a short trip down to her home village with an extra piece of luggage.

That's when my neighbor's niece, Gladys, showed up in our lives.

When Agnes arrived at her family's home, she realized that they had no money and 4 children. The family had been surviving on very little, and it was beginning to show in the small children.

Without any other real options, Agnes did what any other loving aunt would do... she brought one of the children home to live with her family for a while.

I remember the first day that Gladys showed up at our place. She was sitting on the ground about to tip over because it looked like someone had completely sucked every bit of life out from her. She was severely malnourished and in need of some desperate help.

For weeks, she would simply sit in the middle of the back yard full of energetic children running past her left and right, nearly knocking her head off with the soccer ball, and she just wouldn't even flinch.

As her diet began to stabilize, her energy and health followed suit. It's been more than a month now, and she is still by far the quietest and most energy hunger child that plays around in our backyard... but there is that glimmer of hope.

I see that hope when I walk up to her among all the other children and extend my hands toward her... she smiles really big and bashfully and extends her hands out towards mine. I proceed to pick her up and whirl her through the air like an airplane and listen to her scream with excitement.

Her short life thus far has been difficult... no doubt. But, all we have is hope right?

All I have is hope that when she returns back home to her mother and father this weekend, she will not end up the way she was just one month prior. I have hope that she will remember how it felt to be special. That she will remember how it felt to be picked up and thrown into the air.

I hope she dreams...

I hope she smiles...

I hope she survives in this dark, cold world...

This is my prayer for Gladys.

Today, after realizing she would be leaving soon, I went over and picked her up and started talking to her. I asked her what my name was... coming from the mouth of a tiny girl that never mumbles anything even to other children, she spoke a single word that I could barely hear: "Lioni"

I have hope.

:::::UPDATE:::::

Today, we brought Gladys to the hospital to get her checked out before returning back to her village. Turns out, she has an extremely severe case of malaria that she has been living with for quite some time. On top of that, she is severely anemic and is infested with worms. It is really a miracle that she was able to get to the clinic and find this out before she went back home. So, they have given her some super powerful anti-malarials, and we'll pray that she is able to recover quickly.

The fact that she has even survived this long with such strong malaria is quite amazing! If I was to have that bad of a case of malaria, I would be near death. Tolerance is an amazing thing.

So, please pray for her. Pray that treatment is effective. Pray that her nutrition doesn't plummet when she returns back home.

[re]conditioned...

The bad thing about deciding to move somewhere for 9 months is that it is just enough time to get used to things in one place, and forget how things worked in another.

Here I stand... in that position.

I started noticing weird things a few months back.

One of the first things I noticed was that I no longer thought the car looked or felt weird.

Everything on a car here is opposite of the way it is in America. It's quite funny to watch people who come over for just a few weeks try to get used to this. You always walk to the wrong side of the car to get in. And as was the case when my parents got in the car to leave the airport, they started screaming at me to "get on your side of the road... we're gonna die!!!!" (no lie, that was as I was pulling out of the parking lot).

But, I've found myself trying to imagine driving in a car like I did at home, and I just can't recall what that was like. It's extremely odd. It all feels so natural here now.

I also have become accustomed to riding in a car without an air conditioner. Most of our vehicles actually have A/C, but I just can't handle it! I much prefer to just roll down the window. Maybe I have become dependent on some chemical that is released from the massive pillars of exhaust that billows from other cars or something... nonetheless, when I'm riding with someone that thinks it's cool to use the A/C, it just about pushes me over the edge! Yesterday, I was wearing long-sleeves in a car and the person driving had on the A/C, and I felt like crying.

It has also happened with the little, insignificant things. For instance, the first time I tasted milk here, I nearly upchucked! It tasted horrible. So, as a result, I decided that I was only going to use milk to cook with and put in my coffee and tea. Then, a few weeks ago, I came across a box of Cocoa-Krispies... even though I knew I would be going home soon and didn't need these kinds of luxuries at this point in my life, I just had to get a box! When I took my first milk-filled bite, I was pleasantly surprised. It tasted great! Apparently, my disgust for Malawian milk has passed.

Then there's the whole issue of sleeping. Just a few months before I came here, Sara and I had a conversation about temperature while sleeping (just random conversation...not as in - while sleeping in bed). I was very adamant about the fact that I have to have the A/C down low and the fan on high while bundled up in a big fluffy down comforter. She tried explaining to me how expensive it is to keep a place freezing cold like that in the summer... but I would hear none of it... I said that I would just have to make extra money, because that was non-negotiable! Now... I sleep with a sheet and the window open... not even a fan! I'm not sure I can go back to the other way.

I'm really interested in seeing how things are going to look when I set foot back in the big USA. Will I be the one freaking out about driving down the road now? Will American milk make me want to barf?

Unexpected uncertainties...

The other thing I will have to ask you to bear with me on is the fact that aside from Sara, my mom and dad, sister and brother, and my pastor Butch and Matt Chandler from sermon downloads, I haven't heard anyone else's voice! I never really thought about this being weird... but, I just can't seem to remember what some of you sound like. I also am not around a large quantity of Americans. I am getting much more used to the UK or Australian English accent now. The other day, I was out at a cafe by myself, and at the table right next to me was this big group of people from America. I sat there for an hour or so fiddling around on my computer and eaves-dropping because it was just fascinating to listen to their accents.

So, if I'm sitting in your living room in a month and you notice my eyes glazed over and a big smirk on my face... know that it's because I think you sound funny and am trying not to bust out laughing! And I will do the same favor you when you notice my conglomeration of many different accents that don't seem to resemble Texan in the least.

Swarmed on Glynn Jones Rd.

Yesterday, out of sheer boredom, I decided to take a walk into town. I have been doing this more frequently lately... perhaps the boredom is increasing in these last few weeks.

But, I just really love walking through town. I love the interaction that takes place when you walk past someone.

I have developed a route that I seem to be following... I usually make a stop by my friends that work at the curio (wooden figurine things) market...


...then I'll usually make a pass through the big Blantyre market, just for the heck of it...


...then I pop my head into the business that some friends of mine own.


It's simple... but it keeps the days lively!

As I was walking back to my house alongside one of the busier roads at the end of the day, I hear screaming in the distance. All the sudden, about 50 meters away I see this giant herd of children running towards me yelling my name... "Lioni!! Lioni!!" (Chichewa speakers have a hard time distinguishing "R" and "L"... it all sounds the same to them. So, "Ryan" just becomes "Lioni").

These were the kids that I play football (soccer) with almost every day in our back yard.

They surrounded me and grabbed the bag I was carrying out of my hand so I wouldn't have to carry anything. Two of the little ones grabbed my two free hands, and there I was... this crazy white guy walking down a busy street with all these kids attached to me!

At first I was a little embarrassed. I was kinda getting some funny looks from people. It looked a little like I was forcing these kids that I didn't know to walk with me and carry my bag. But, then I just decided that I didn't care what people thought. I DO know these kids... and I love each one of them so much. So, be what it may... I'm gonna walk down the street surrounded by 15 kids... and I'm gonna be OK with that.

When we got back to our place, we had a nice game of football... in which I realized how completely out of shape I am... But, nonetheless, my team came away with the big win!!

I just love that feeling you get when you realize that you have finally been somewhere long enough and devoted enough energy to build relationships with people, that you get swarmed on the road.

It gives me great peace as I begin to think about wrapping things up here.

Will Work For Food...

This post isn't some deep insight into homelessness or anything... it's simply a desperate plea from yours truly...

I NEED A JOB!

Don't worry... I'm not depending on you specifically to go out and hunt down a job for me, but I figured I might as well use all my resources right?

So, all you readers coming from Bryan/College Station, don't forget about me. If you really want to see my smiling face again in your midst... well, you better come up with a nice job to keep me alive.

Aside from setting up a small lemonade stand on the corner of Texas Ave. and George Bush, I'm fairly flexible. I'm kinda looking for something in the field of "social work" (Christian or non-Christian agency), I'm also really interested in doing graphic design type stuff... I know, I know, they don't really match... I would also be up for working in a ministry type setting.

So, keep your ears open for me, since I don't have a set in Texas right now and shoot me an e-mail or leave a comment if you have any leads.

Scenes of Blantyre...

Well... I finally did it.

I became a tourist.

I absolutely hate being that guy that is always walking around new places, looking completely out of place and snapping pictures of everything in sight (I know that most people are looking at my Flickr account and thinking... someone needs to tell him that HE IS THAT GUY!... but, I really do try to be discrete).

But, today, I was shameless!

I had a bit of pride swallowing to do, but once I got started it was fun.

Up until this point, I have tended to shy away from taking pictures in downtown Blantyre. I feel like a lot of people in the city get really sick of the foreigners that come over here and just snap a ton of pictures to bring back to there homes and show people how poor Malawi is... well, it's not that I just feel that way, but I was actually told that the other day by someone on the streets. So, to avoid that whole confrontation, I would just walk camera-free.

However, with each passing day of the most beautiful blue skies in the world, and the realization that my time in Blantyre is rapidly vanishing before my eyes, I decided to take to the streets... camera in hand!

For some of you, pictures like this may come as a surprise. You probably thought that the tallest building in Malawi was a hut the size of a tall man. WRONG... Blantyre is a gorgeous city with lots of modern things.

And come to find out, the vast majority of people that saw me taking pictures around town today were totally cool with it. Most people wanted me to take their picture instead of buildings and such though.

So, enjoy some of the sites that my feet have been trampling for the last 8 months!

This is one of the main streets in town... Victoria Ave.

This is part of the chaos that is constantly in front of the main market... You can't even begin to see how many mini-buses are really there!

This is one of the coolest things I've seen. In fact, I noticed it for the first time today as I was walking past it.

Another great big bank in the works to add to our skyline.

One of the big bank buildings in town...

Coming close to my house...

The name of my neighborhood... no worries, we don't have any sharks in Namiwawa!

This photo has no real significance other than the fact that while I was taking it (standing on the side of the road), I felt some thing knick my backpack and realized that I had just been "hit by a car" moving at high speeds! It was kinda cool. I'm still trying to determine whether it was a "hate crime" or just the inevitability of human and motor sharing the same walking space. Hate crime sounds so much cooler though!

Thread...

There is this common thread that has run through humanity from ancient times. A thread that has changed colors and styles... a thread nonetheless.

A thread that binds us with people from around the world and throughout history.

In the bottom crevice of our soul somewhere it stirs this uneasiness.

Stirs this feeling of discontentment with the way the world is.

A discontentment with society and its structures.

A thread that pulled a Samaritan guy to a screeching halt on a dusty road because he noticed something that the rest of the world didn't. While they were increasing their speed, he decreased his. And today we say he was "Good".

A thread that pulled a little lady known as Theresa out of eastern Europe and into Calcutta, India to become instead of observe. To give until it hurt... and then continue to give. To touch without rubber gloves and hand sanitizer. To live and die there. And today we call her "Saint".

I don't believe that this is in just some of us. I believe that we all want something more.

I believe in a broken society this thread has become a bit distorted.

In our Hollywood, microwave society, where everything is G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S... we appease this yearning in easier ways.

The richest among us have climbed until they can't climb any higher. At the summit they find an air that is hard to breathe. Life on the summit of our society turns out to be lonely, cold and harsh. Contentment has yet to be grasped.

Aha! The thread.

Celebrities, adorned in designer clothes that are made to look impoverished, decide to take visits to the base of the mountain... and through the tented windows of limousines they pass by.

Done... money has been given... temporary contentment has been obtained... it's back to the summit for rest and relaxation.

We in the middle, who are neither poor nor rich by our own standards, find not the time nor the energy to do anything. But, the thread is still there. Still pulling.

For the vast majority of us, that thread simply pulls us to our couches at 4:00pm every weekday to watch the rich do there thing. For a solid hour, we have the chance to watch close up, all the people we secretly want to be just like changing the world, one great cause at a time.

When the credits roll at 4:59pm, we put the kleenex back under the coffee table, sigh, and then begin cooking dinner for the night. For millions of viewers, the 4:00 hour was their time to change the world. For 24 hours, their threaded conscious has been appeased.

Welcome to America.

As poverty increasingly becomes the fad in the West, it doesn't mean that the poor are suffering less. It just means that the Jericho road is getting more and more traffic. People are still sitting congested along the sides of the road... the only difference is that the road is now paved, equipped with 4 lanes, nice wide shoulders and several rest stops.

In our discontentment up on the summit, we search for something more at the base... trying to find some part of us that was lost on the climb up.

In what we think is assisting the poor is actually nothing more than assisting ourselves.

With each picture we take of a snotty nosed child dressed in rags that we can frame and hang on the walls of the summit, we feel just a little bit better. We can enjoy the best of both worlds now... while sitting in our message chair next to the fire place at night, we just look at the photo... for a brief moment we are back at the base where true life is.

Meanwhile, the other rope that ties humanity together from ages old remains in tact right next to the thread. The rope that, despite our human efforts to shrink it or fray it loose, remains just as capable of keeping the poor ignored and stuck on the bottom and the rich happy and comfortable at the top.

The base of the mountain is not the place to come and find yourself only to return to the top with photos and video footage to pull out when the rat race feels like too much.

Make no mistake... there is much to be found at ground level. But, as the Samaritan and the Saint set in example, until you stop or even relocate, you will find nothing expect empty photos of snotty nosed children on your walls.

_______________________________________________

Derek Webb wrote a song that is really poignant about this issue...

Rich Young Ruler

poverty is so hard to see
when its only on your tv and twenty miles across town
where we're all living so good
that we moved out of Jesus neighborhood
where he's hungry and not feeling so good
from going through our trash
he says, more than just your cash and coin
I want your time, I want your voice
I want the things you just can't give me

so what must we do
here in the west we want to follow you
we speak the language and we keep all the rules
even a few we made up
come on and follow me
but sell your house, sell your SUV
sell your stocks, sell your security
and give it to the poor
what is this, hey what's the deal
I don't sleep around and I don't steal
I want the things you just can't give me

because what you do to the least of these
my brothers, you have done it to me
because I want the things you just can't give me

Practically Twins...

Pretty much identical wouldn't you say?

Today, I decided to take a walk into town. It was quite nice to be on foot rather than wheel.

As I was walking close to my house, I walked past this guy and greeted him with a "Shop, shop" (Chichewa for: "Sup?"). He kinda looked at me and smiled real big. He said, "You know Chichewa?" in an I'm impressed but a little shocked voice.

I responded, "Ehh... pong'ono" (yeah... a little).

So, we had a little conversation in Chichewa... and when we ran out of things to say in Chichewa, we switched back to English. He started telling me that he just got a job teaching French at the primary school next door to my house. He just graduated University, but jobs are hard to come by.

Then he asked me if I was from America (I guess it just must be obvious or something).

He said, "Do you know a Christian band there... the David Crowder Band?" (said in a Malawian English accent... my favorite of the accents).

I kinda chuckled and was like, "Uhh... yeah. They're awesome! In fact, they are from the same part of the States as me..."

Then he said, "I've seen you around for a while, and I always think to myself that that guy looks just like David Crowder."

Maybe it's because I'm white. Maybe it's the way I dress. It could be the goatee/soul patch resemblance. I pray that it's not because of my hair!

Nonetheless... I was thrilled to be considered in the same realm as Mr. Crowder himself!

I will smile for the rest of the day now. :)

"Hungry Boss... Give me money..."

Sometimes when I'm driving around town, I don't necessarily have a chance to take everything in. I mean... If I want to leave this country without a charge of "man-slaughter" on my hands (for all you people that have different laws from us in the USA... that means running over someone for all intensive purposes), then I had better pay attention to what's going on within my immediate vicinity.

The trouble is... there is just so much to see right outside your window. It's so different from life in America. There are actually people... not in vehicles... walking around as you drive by. Lot's of them.

**Just a side note: Yesterday, as the clutch went out on our car while I was driving it in town and I suddenly realized I was going nowhere... I had to jump out of the car in the middle of town and begin pushing. I'll just be honest... I can't imagine having to do this at home. I would feel so embarrassed and I'm quite sure people would be yelling at me as they drove by and throwing angry hand signals in my general direction that would make me feel really small. I was in the car with 2 girls... and we all made the comment that we never feel afraid when we have car problems here in Malawi. It's so true. The second your car breaks down, you have about 10 people helping you push it off the road, and 3 of those people are probably already trying to fix the problem for you. It's so amazing! At home, when we see someone stranded with car trouble, we push on the accelerator instead of the break.

Anyway... as I was saying... There is a lot to see outside the windshield.

A few days ago, I was just driving down a road that I go down many times a week. I was in a hurry. So, I whipped through the intersection and was on my way. But, as I passed, I noticed something and was taken aback. In the middle of the road, there was a guy begging. That wasn't what I was taken aback by. In fact, the reality of beggars at every single street corner approaching the car is just something that doesn't phase me anymore. I've even developed a system* in regard to beggars that I feel goes along with my convictions and helps me with the reality that I can't help every single one of them.

But, it wasn't until after I passed by and took a double take in my mirror that I realized that this guy had no legs from the knee down. He wasn't in a wheelchair either. He was literally in the middle of the road with his knees to the hot, mid-day asphalt begging for money.

As I drove on, my mind began to wonder a bit. It kinda bothered me that I could just drive past something like that and continue to feel this sense of normalcy. I mean seriously... what happened in this guy's life that brought him to the point of crawling on the steamy road, dodging traffic and begging for a few coins that people are quite reluctant to give.

Since it was already on my mind, a few minutes later, while stopped at a light, I glanced over at this elderly lady sitting on the sidewalk. The light had just turned red, so I had some time to just watch. I watched her sit, absolutely motionless... with her had stretched out in the shape of a cup, her head tilted slightly towards the earth... I'm quite sure that the entire time I watched her, she didn't even blink. People walked briskly by her without really noticing she was there... kinda like a rock or a pothole... you just dodge it, but don't really think about it.

It wasn't until just a few weeks ago that I even noticed this type of beggar. There are just so many people that are asking for money around town. It's really like this vast sub-culture. Most of them are children that will follow you for blocks saying things like: "Hungry boss... give me money. Please, boss... I need money." Then there are the people that are cripple that sit stationary and just ask from a distance. Then there are the women that sit in different places or occasionally approach you for money. Then there are the blind or really elderly people that are led around by a grandchild, and the child asks for money on behalf of the other person.

But, for some reason, it has taken me 7 months to notice this other group of beggars. The ones that look as if the life has been virtually sucked right out of them and replaced with stone. They sit on a sidewalk where thousands of people pass them throughout the day, and they never move an inch (at least not while I'm looking). Their heads are always drooping down as to not make eye-contact, and they just leave their hand out for coins to fall from heaven.

It's just been baffling me lately. I just can't help but wonder to myself what they think about all day long. They aren't talking to people... their just sitting and starring. Are they thinking about their family back home? Are they thinking that their life really sucks? Are they thinking that people don't even notice them? Or have they lost all thoughts?

I have no answers. I just wonder.

As crappy as it is to live in a place where you are faced with these realities day in and day out, I have gained a whole new understanding of the passages in scripture where Jesus heals people on the street or even just bends down and gives them the time of day.

I never really realized how completely counter-cultural those actions were. It was by no means the popular thing to do... and I'm quite sure that he probably got some really funny looks.

But, it also drives home the theme that we see throughout the whole of scripture... God has this interesting love, concern, romance type thing going on with the poor. He literally dips down to the bottom of the bucket every time. He walks right by the rich and powerful and extends his hand to the "nobodies". To the ones that don't have a voice to make him look good. To the ones that don't have extraordinary voting power to move him up in the system. To the ones that will never be able to pay him back one cent for his kindness and generosity.

Oh, we have a lot to learn.

I struggle writing these types of things because I don't want to perpetuate the idea that most people have about Africa... that it's a continent full of people with their hands stuck out asking for money. That's not true.

But, it is a reality. There are poor. They do need a voice. And we do need to stop, look at them and reach out a hand. Yes, we need to recognize that there are successful people all over the place in Malawi... but, just like anywhere else in the world, the poor should not be washed away just to make the rich feel better.

*My personal system for helping beggars:
First let me start by saying that I am so bad at this! I walk past so many people that genuinely need help, and because I get annoyed or am in a hurry, I don't give them the time of day. I need so much refinement in my life still. However, after being here for a few months, I realized that I could not claim to be a disciple of the guy that walked so closely with these people and be OK with literally turning my head and not acknowledging them when they approach me.

The trouble I was having is that there are just so many people that ask for money. If I gave to every single person, then the next day, I would have to pull up a seat next to them and stick out my hand as well. And... I'm pretty sure that, just like everywhere else in the world, there are those with genuine needs, and there are those that know that begging is their most profitable way of making a living. I hate that reality. I hate not being able to trust.

With all that going through my head, I decided that I would develop a system to go by (loosely). The first thing I decided was that I would not give money to children. I know that half my supporters just called SIM to get their money back! But, there is a good reason. A whole lot of street children actually have homes that they can go to. However, they run away from those homes and prefer a life on the street for whatever reason. When I give them money, I am simply enabling them to stay on the street. I'm saying, "you don't need your family... you can get all the help you need right here from the hand of a stupid foreigner, so why not stay where you are." For the children that really don't have families to go to, there are places that reach out to street children. I actually made this decision based on talking with one such place. Now, I don't think that we shouldn't support street children. But, I think that money would be much better spent investing in a place that knows what they're doing, and can really help get these kids off the street instead of keeping them on it.

Secondly, I will rarely give to some random guy that looks like he's perfectly able to work for money. I just don't think that begging should ever be your first option. I think it's only a result of a flawed system. I also think that it's not very Biblical... especially for Christians to be doing.

But, the reality is... the "system" (humanity) is deeply flawed. So... I am more willing to give to a lady that looks like she has children and just isn't making ends meet. This is because I know what this society is like for women. They don't get the opportunities that women get in a lot of other places in the world. Until that system changes, I feel that I can't just ignore their need.

Lastly, I am most willing to give to someone that is visibly disabled. They obviously are not able to get a job like the rest of us. And... I guess it's just because Jesus paid special attention to these types of people. He never turned his nose up at them and walked away. He also never just gave them small pocket change either... but, that's a whole other lesson!

Like I said, even though I have this "system" in place... I still walk by most people and just smile and say hello. I know... I'm still a filthy sinner! I also know that money is such a crappy thing to throw at someone. I wish I could spend intensive time devoted to really helping these people. I'm still trying to work that out in my life.

Another thing to add... money is not nearly as important as a smile. Even though I rarely give people money... I try my hardest not to ignore them. I enjoy rolling down my window to say hi and joke with a guy trying to sell me a bag of little minnows to make a few cents. And... I think that brings more life to a person that any amount of money. Also, if I am coming from the market or grocery store and have food with me, I will usually offer someone saying they are hungry a banana or something. Sadly, a lot of times they will say that they don't want it, but they want money. I respond, "Pepani - I'm sorry".

** I chose the picture for this post because it wasn't of a person. I don't want to dehumanize someone by putting their photo on the internet and labeling them a "Beggar". But, just like dirty laundry... this issue is painful to really try and deal with in our own cultures, yet desperately need to be washed.