Act like a Man…
When the time drew near for David to die, he gave a charge to Solomon his son. “I am about to go the way of all the earth,” he said. “So be strong, act like a man, and observe what the Lord your God requires: Walk in obedience to him, and keep his decrees and commands, his laws, regulations...Do this so that you may prosper in all you do and wherever you go.”
What a passage. What a scene. David the warrior king on the edge of death yet still in the battle as he pours into his son/successor with these extraordinary words: Be Strong. Act like a man. Walk faithfully before Him!
Queue Braveheart. Bring some snuff. Time to get your big boy pants on ‘cuz daddy ain’t gonna be around to buffer you from the challenges of life. Your number is about to get called. Time to rise up!
I don’t know about you, but in reading this I am ready to charge the hill, take new ground, and silence the enemy that entices me toward passivity. And there was no better timing for me to discover this charge from king David than on our flight to Rwanda some 50 days ago.
The challenges of moving your family to Sub-Saharan Africa are hard to capture in a few paragraphs. One might be tempted to think our move was made easier by the fact that I have been to this country many times prior to the move. I’ll admit it, the ten visits granted a friendship with Serge Kamari, who selflessly supported us in every way he could in the first days. And that was big! But outside of this, I am here to tell you visiting for ten days and living here are two very different experiences.
At every turn there are unexpected setbacks. Things that are so simple in the States are so complicated here primarily because of inefficacies in infrastructure, coupled with my inability to speak the language.
Take for instance our visa process.
I made three trips to the immigration office with each trip requiring hours of waiting in various lines with no clear indication what number you are in the line, or even if you are in the right line to begin with. You sort of self-evaluate who is the most motivated to be done with the waiting, and jockey for position ahead of the all-too-often nonconfrontational Rwandans.
Or take our visit to the hospital to get a rapid covid test. We show up at a clinic recommended by a friend, only to be told they don’t any rapid test today, but fear not, the hospital down the street does. We jump in the van, race to the hospital, only to find the parking is down the street, behind a random building with a single ingress/egress. At this point, time is of the essence as we need to get the test results, get dressed for the wedding, and drop our kids off at a new friend’s house all in less than 3 hours.
We speak broken English (in hopes he’ll understand better) to a hospital staff who directs us around the corner where we confront a line fifty deep of Rwandans dressed up for weddings. Alarms started going off in my head that we are not going to make it. After inching toward a door for what felt like eternity, we finally make it to a single staffed desk whereupon a lady handwrites every patient’s information. If that wasn’t enough, we now must get in a second line with this new paperwork behind another single-staffed desk, so they can enter the paperwork and charge us for the test. We give her our new Rwandan cell number (that will receive the test results as a SMS) but because it starts with 0791 instead of the traditional 0788, she flat out tells us we will not get the results with this number. WHY? Because their database does not recognize the new sequence, that oh, by the way, was issued by the leading telecommunications company in the country. My blood is boiling at this point, but as calmly as I can, I tell her my friend’s number and hope at some point these databases will be updated.
We then rush to, you guessed it, another line to finally get the rapid covid test, which is basically a technician in a makeshift closet. We zip home, dress for the wedding in fifteen minutes, drop off the kids, and arrive at the wedding with minutes to spare, only it wasn’t a noon start, as stated on the invitation. The bride & groom needed to bump it up to 11:00 am.
One last situation, because it helps to talk it out. I found a 91’ Land Cruiser for sale with a bajillion miles on a Facebook group for expats living in Rwanda. The owner had left the country but assures me the vehicle is in excellent condition. Instead of taking him at his word, I have an aviation mechanic meticulously inspect it prior to purchase. He gives me the run down, I lower the price to accommodate repairs, I wire 75% of the funds and reserve 25% for when the vehicle will be transferred to me. I convince the owner to let me take possession of the vehicle prior to transfer so I can begin the repair work. He agrees. I pick up the vehicle and 3 miles into the maiden voyage, I lose all power and come to a screeching stop on the side of an unknown street.
Every emotion known to man rushes thru my mind, body, and soul. Anger, desperation, loneliness, despair, frustration all seems to come at once. I am stranded in a new country with a new vehicle and have no idea what to do. Job’s wife’s words come to mind “curse God & die.” Instead, the Lord reminds me of David’s words “Be strong, act like a man, and walk with Him.” I know the pity party will not do me any good. I call my only lifeline, Serge, and he comes to my rescue again. Within an hour we have my beautiful mess of a vehicle at the shop. (Just so you know the rest of the story a bolt came loss on the drive, rubbed against the timing belt causing it to snap.)
These types of experiences are not unique to me, nor is it just a bad week. This happens a lot here, as I have been told by seasoned expats. But this is only one side of the coin. There are just as many beautiful moments to offset the hard ones (well certain days it feels the scale tips toward the bad, but let us not focus on that).
The people are incredible. The landscape is breathtaking. And the weather rivals San Diego with its low of 60 and a high of 80 on repeat.
But the real gift has been our ministry partners Jules, Serge, Bruno, Pacifique, and George. It was a risk to partner with national leaders prior to moving to Rwanda. But I am convinced the Lord assembled this team for His glory and for His purposes. I have felt an instant bond with these men. And our opinions have been eerily consistent on just about any topic that arises during our biweekly meeting. We have discussed servant leadership, the state of the church, handling of finances, prioritizing family over ministry, the transfer of love, the rise & fall of leaders – and we always end up in a place of unity.
I do not take this for granted. Many expats have shared that Rwanda is one of the more closed off people groups they have encountered in Africa (a genocide will do that). Yet, our experience with The Rwanda Project partners and few others has been quite the opposite as they have demonstrated a spirit of vulnerability with the absence of neediness.
To conclude, I want to thank each of you that has given to our ministry. The only way we could be here is because of your generosity. I hope I never lose sight of it. Your generosity is the catalyst to every relationship that is built and sustained in our work. We are grateful for your trust and believe in our work.
And from here on out, I invite you to pray that the Lord would grant me the grace and courage to be strong, act like a man, and lean into my weakness in order for Him to be on full display.