No Compulsion

 What do you call a place where you are given little freedom? A place where you are told what to do, when to sit and when to rise, when to eat and when not to?  A place where most of your movements are watched and you are punished for disobedience?  Some might say a prison.  Others might say a school. Is it not so?  Is it not a fair description of either one?  

No eating out this month- homemade pizza

This similarity between schools and prisons is somewhat off-putting until you realize that there are actually plenty of places more like a prison than we realize.  Flying on an airplane comes to mind.  We have to go through security, they confiscate sharp or dangerous items,  and tell us when we can and can’t go to the bathroom.  A business office has its own set of rules that you have to abide by.  Hospitals have strict rules, as do most houses of worship.  Even national parks will tell you when and where you can or cannot build a fire, go to the bathroom, or make noise at night.  Yet we don’t think of any of these places as prisons.  What is the difference?

Is it not the purpose and motivation for the place.  A school’s purpose, ideally, is “a place of learning.” A hospital “a place of healing.” An airplane has a clear destination. Everyone wants to get to safely.  But a prison’s purpose, at least on some level,  is to punish.  In all the other scenarios, the members enter willingly.  I choose to go the office or the school or the hospital.  I choose to get on the airplane.  But I am forced to go to prison.  Very few choose to go there.  Perhaps that is why school seems a bit more apt of a comparison.  For many schoolchildren, it is not the children wanting to go, but the parents compelling them to do so.  “It’s for their own good.”  

Why all these thoughts on prisons and schools?  We are currently in the month of fasting.  If I ask my neighbors what they think of this month they will tell me, “It is wonderful.  A time of peace and joy and blessedness.”  Yet, all I see is a prison.  When I ask my neighbors, “Why do you fast?”  The most common answer is, “Because we have to.  God told us to.”  But in reality, God is not the only one telling them to.  The community reinforces this rule strictly.  Even the government gets in on it.  Every year edicts are declared that anyone found eating or drinking in public will be taken to jail.  

My religious friend will tell me, this month is more like school—a time of learning and growing in religious duty.  “It’s for our own good.”  There is something to be said for that argument, but I also see that when a child grows into an adult, no country on earth forces them to go to school.  Yet, during the month of fasting, adults have no choice.  They are compelled.

A few years ago we went to the French island during the month of fasting.  This island consists of the same people group, but under the French system of government.  Under the French tradition of secular governance, there is no compulsion to fast during the month of fasting.  I found myself shocked by what I saw.  Islanders eating and drinking in public during the month of fasting!  How different from Clove Island where the mood of strict observance hangs over daytime life like a cloud.

Can still eat out in mainland Africa though

There is much good to be found in fasting.  There is good in habitual routines and rhythms of self-sacrifice, austerity and temperance.  But not under compulsion.  There is a world of difference between one who chooses to fast and one who fasts out of compulsion. If they truly had a choice, if no one could shame them for their choice, if their obedience or disobedience in fasting did not carry the threat of heavy eternal punishment, how many would do it?  I think very few, and I’ve even had islanders agree with that opinion.  Here on Clove Island, for a few this month may be a school, but I believe that for most it is a prison.  

Even for many of those islanders whose hearts are free, the pressure of society and the fear of the police compels them to fast.  Their souls are not in prison, but their bodies are.  I long for their freedom.  For us, our outsider status means we share openly that we don’t fast.  I hope one day my island brothers and sisters could be so bold.  Because the truth is, the prison doors are open.  The threat of eternal punishment nullified.  The debt is paid.  They are free to walk out the open doors of their prison and into freedom.  May the island people walk into freedom.  May the islands be set free.

PRAYERS ANSWERED
Megan was able to get the rest of our daughter’s prescription meds and visit the kids at their school before she had to leave for leadership meetings.  It has been raining on and off the past few days, which is a mercy as when it’s not raining the heat is pretty brutal.  We pity all the people fasting in such heat and are thankful for the rain that cools things down.  We are thankful for the conversations that are happening and will happen this month everywhere we go.

PRAYERS REQUESTED
Pray for islanders hearts to be open this month to hear the good news that the prison doors are open.  Pray for many to walk into freedom. The leadership meetings (where Megan is) are focusing on spiritual formation. Pray that everyone participating would be drawn more into the presence of God that they might grow in their attentiveness to the Spirit. Our youngest son isn’t feeling well (perhaps with the same illness Tom had the previous week). Pray for a quick recovery. Continue to pray for him and Tom as they brave it at home alone. Pray for our older son and the school choir as they go on a music tour over the weekend. May it be a wonderful time of sharing music with a message. Pray for smooth travels for Megan back to the islands at the end of the week.  

Expected, Accepted, Ignored

 A few days ago I arrived early for my class.  The door to the classroom was locked, so I sat on the bench in the hallway waiting for someone to arrive and open up the door.  Next to the bench were a number of large buckets of paint , paint brushes, and various painting apparatus.  As I watched the painter came by and sat down on one of the buckets and set to work.

Valance covered with old paint drips

He opened one of the buckets full of paint and then pulled a second empty bucket up next to it.  He then poured about half of the bucket of paint into the empty bucket.  If he spilled a drop I didn’t see him do it.  With his thumb, he carefully wiped the edge of the bucket he was pouring from, and then scraped the rest into the bucket before wiping his thumb on his painting shirt.  Transfer accomplished and no paint on the floor—this time.  You see the painter did this right on the tiled floor of the hallway.  There was no drop cloth, paper or plastic sheeting.  He was working without a net.

Despite his deftness at pouring from one can into another, I could see that either others, or he himself, had not had such skill at other times.  All around his “work area” there were splatters of dried paint, even if his work area was the nicely tiled hallway.  This was not really a surprise to me.  In even the nicest homes, it is common to find paint splattered on windows, mirrors, tiled floors, light fixtures, and even picture frames and furniture.  It is one of those things that I look at and find hard not to judge.

With many decisions islanders make, I have come to appreciate their reasoning is different from mine—even if I still don’t agree, I can understand why they do it.  For example, islanders often buy cheap new clothes that fall apart after one wearing.  Why waste your money on clothes like that?  But the value of now and new—it’s cheap, it’s new, and I will look good today—outweighs the value of long-term and dependable clothes that are more expensive.  But the paint one eludes me…

Another example

I understand that plastic drop clothes are expensive, but I don’t think money is the issue.  I think, there are enough old rags and pieces of cloth lying around (the wraps that women wear and replace regularly would make great drop clothes).  And I don’t think that the painter doesn’t take pride in his work.  I watched him carefully mixing paint.  He clearly knew what he was doing and was doing his job attentively and well.  No, it was almost more like he didn’t see the splattered paint.  As if the small splatters that happen are just part and parcel of painting—expected, accepted, ignored.  It made me think of all the other things that are expected, accepted, ignored.  It made me think of the small boy who threw a plastic bottle into the street in front of his mother and left it there.  No comment from his mother.  Trash on the street is expected, accepted, ignored.  What’s one more plastic bottle?  It made me think of power outages and water shortages and employees not being paid for months.  Expected, accepted, ignored.  

I love the islands and its people.  There are many things I prefer about island culture and lifestyle compared to America, but in this way…I wish I could change them.

Even as I write this, I am thinking of things in my own culture that might be expected, accepted, and ignored:  violent and pornographic entertainment, lonely people without community, poverty in far off places.  We are by no means off the hook.  And I wish I could change my home culture, too.

Expected, accepted, ignored is a type of blindness.  It is seeing without seeing.  How do you open someone’s eyes?  It is not as easy as pointing out the problem.  For a few that might work, but for most they will see only what is expected, accept it and ignore it.  They will see it briefly and forget—or turn away in despair, thinking, “What can I do. It will never change.  It’s just the way the world is.”  

To see change, new eyes are required, a new heart too.  To see corruption and littering and poverty and loneliness and violence and splattered paint and want to do something about it—that takes a sensitivity that comes from above, and a hope that does not disappoint.  So though we might say something to encourage people not to litter, or speak out against corruption, we know the change starts in the heart, and so we push and pray to see change there. 

Megan and our two older kids

PRAYERS ANSWERED
Tom had a weird illness that might have been dengue or chikungunya. Thankfully it was very mild and he is feeling better. He and our youngest have been doing well at home on the islands, while Megan and our older two had a good weekend together in mainland Africa. Men’s gathering was well attended and the conversation was lively.  It was great to see men speaking up and listening to one another about real life things. Our teammate had a number of good interactions this week with neighbors and friends.  Tom’s studies with the two guys continue to go well.  Muki is really enjoying what we’re reading and shows up eager every day to read more.

PRAYERS REQUESTED
We pray that God would open our eyes to the things that we expect, accept and ignore— may He soften our hearts. The month of fasting starts this week— pray for the islands in this special month where everyone is more focused on the things of God. May many seek and find Him. If you would like to get special emails during the month with ways to pray then email us.  Megan took our oldest for her check-up with the rheumatologist— her treatment isn’t working as well as hoped, they made a small change to her treatment, pray that it would lead to a significant improvement in her symptoms. Also pray that Megan fill the rest of our daughter’s prescription before she leaves town (the pharmacy was only able to fill part of it and wasn’t sure when they could get more).

When Things Become Less Safe

 A man with money in his pockets is assaulted on the street by a gang of men. They beat hit, take his money and leave him for dead. The next morning the man’s body is found dead.   

Extra locks on back door

Such things have been happening for thousands of years, but they haven't been happening here.  As long as we have lived here, Clove Islanders have taken pride in the fact that Clove Island is a safe place to live.  But that seems to be changing.  We're not suggesting that we're afraid to walk down the street or that we feel unsafe.  We feel quite safe.  But we would be lying if we said we haven't noticed a change.

The story I told above happened in our city this past week.  We can hardly believe it.  Before a few years ago, we would have said, "Things like that don't happen here."  In fact, we spent our first 10 years here having never heard of a murder.  Then something happened a few years ago. A murder. Everyone said, "Nothing like this has ever happened here."  There was the assumption that this was a fluke, a rare event that would not repeat itself for decades.  

But last week, there were two murders.  Can we really say, "Nothing like this has ever happened here"?

Why is it changing?  We can only speculate.  The past few years have been difficult. Prices have gone up, but opportunities remain stagnant.  As an Islander said to us this week, "A few years ago you could say to someone, give me a few bucks, and they'd be able to help you out, but now, no one will help you out."  Are people becoming more desperate? Is that leading to more crime?

We also think it may be the harvest of a misguided political policy that has persisted for the last 20 years.  Islanders take their children to the French island hoping to give them a better life. If they get caught and deported, they leave the children behind. (The French government has policies against deporting children.) They believe that in so doing, their children will find a better life—go to French schools, become French citizens.  Instead, children live on the streets, or as household servants little better than slaves.  With no one caring for them and little hope beyond their next meal, they get involved in theft, drugs, gangs and violent behavior.  This problem has persisted for more than twenty years.  Now those abandoned children are grown, angry, violent, hopeless, lawless, forgotten, ignored.  The better life—education, job, French citizenship—was just a fairy tale.  If the police find them, they will be deported and sent back to Clove Island—a place they’ve never lived, with people they hardly know and ways that can be quite different from the highly French influenced culture of French Island.  They come off the deportation boat with nothing but the things they left with, plus a sandwich and a bottle of water.  They wander out of the port and make their way. Where?  Who knows? 

The port where the boat from French Island comes

Whatever the cause, the climate is changing.  Women don't walk home alone late at night from wedding ceremonies anymore. They make sure they go in groups (an easy precaution we would always recommend, but until recently it seemed like  a good practice rather than a necessity).  House and building security systems have become more advanced and more secure.  People don’t feel as safe as they used to.  It’s sad to see the decline.  It is sad to see a sense of safety swallowed up by suspicion and fear.

We have been blessed to live in a "safe" place for many years, but as the false perception of safety fades away, we don't see reasons to leave. Rather we see all the more reason to stay.  Clove Islanders need a redeemer more than ever.  We hope we can help them find Him.

PRAYERS ANSWERED
The women’s gathering went well last week.  People were slow to arrive, but by the end, it was a good time of fellowship.  The translation work went well too.  Thankful that they were able to get done everything they hoped for—achieving all their goals!  We are thankful that it continues to rain and keep the heat at bay.  We are thankful for returning team members to the small island, who have been away for medical reasons.  We’re so glad they’re well enough to come back.  We’re thankful that both of us continue to have good studies with Muki/Mtsa, and Hashiri respectively.  

PRAYERS REQUESTED
Pray for the lost youth of the French island causing chaos and grief wherever they go.  Pray for changed lives among them. Pray that they could find hope.  Pray that policies and mentalities would change. The brand-new sister that we learned about at the end of Dec came to women’s gathering. At Megan’s urging, the other sisters that live in her same town made a plan for them to meet and study together. Pray that they would meet and grow together. The men’s gathering will happen this week— pray that many would attend and that they would be building trust with one another. Megan will travel tomorrow.  She will be seeing our older kids during their mid-term break and then travel on to a conference the following week.  Pray for good travels, nice times with the kids and meaningful learning and interactions at the conference.  Tom and our youngest will be on their own.  Pray for them as they work together to get through homeschool, work, and life without Megan’s help.  

Rainy Season Cleaning

 We’ve had about two weeks of steady rain on the islands. When it rains, life slows down. Islanders don’t go out in heavy rain. They don’t expect others to go out in heavy rain. Even things like work and school will start late (once there’s a break in the rain). So there has been more time at home and with fewer visitors than normal. 

The rainy main street 

I find having fewer things very freeing and I’ve been in a mood to cull our possessions. So one rainy day, I found myself sorting through some old toys and games. Our kids are all teenagers now and there are lot of games/toys that haven’t been used in a long time. 

We want to maintain a kid-friendly home so we’ve held onto a high chair, a pack n’ play and an assortment of little kid toys that we pull out for our youngest visitors. It’s all the same things our kids used, but to be honest that feels like a different life— the life of everything going in the mouth, of sippy cups, diapers and pureed food.  We went through all that here on the islands, but can’t imagine jumping back into being the parents of little ones again, it feels like a long time ago. 

In a similar way, it has now been three years since we’ve had new teammates (more like 5 years since we’ve welcomed anyone new who has a longterm commitment to our team). And while our teammates are adults, they do start out as babies in the culture and language (and may come with actual babies if it is a family).  

The basil plant liked the rain

On our last team day, we tried to realistically remember what it looks like to support a new family. We quickly get used to having more independent teammates and we have to remind ourselves what it is like to have people starting new—not in an attempt to talk ourselves out of welcoming new people, but to make sure we’re prepared for what it means, and how our lives would have to change for us to do it well. 

Our younger kid toys are dusty and in need of a clean, but so are some of our tools for helping new workers. We don’t have a go-to network of islanders experienced as language helpers anymore. I saw my box of props for early local language lessons the other day was covered in cobwebs.  We’re not up to date anymore on where to buy kids’ supplies, on which shops have the best prices on wet-wipes or baby snacks. We’ve misplaced the hard copies of lots of the foundational books we have people read. These are areas we can rebuild and some practical ways to prepare, but there is also just mentally preparing for our priorities to shift. 

Just as a family with babies can’t do the same things as a family with older kids, so team leaders with new teammates can’t do all the same things that team leaders with all veteran team members can do. We’ll have to adapt. 

I made a pile of broken toys to throw out. I washed a stuffed lamb that was covered in dirt. I put aside a bunch of toys that could be given away right now, and another pile of toys that might be appreciated by new workers with kids.  You might say we need to do the same for our team habits in preparation for new workers—skills we need to pull out, brush off, and polish up, habits or activities we’ve stopped doing that we need to start doing again, and some things we do now that we’ll need to give away.

We’re excited to see more workers come to Clove Island and join our team.  We prepare and we pray. May 2027 be the year. God willing!

PRAYERS ANSWERED
We were thankful for the rains chasing away the heat, but now we’re also thankful that the rains have cleared and we have some sunshine again. Boats between islands are going again and farmers are relieved also at the change in weather. The woman Megan is studying with seems to understand now that she still has a lot to learn and she continues to come to study—  praise and pray for her continuing growth. Ma Imani says she is feeling better. 

PRAYERS REQUESTED
There has been an increase in violent crimes on the islands. While still not widespread, they are disconcerting in a country in which violent crimes used to be almost unheard of. Pray that this would not become a trend but that a feeling of safety would continue to be the norm of the islands as it has been in years past. There have been a couple cases of mpox on Clove Island now (as far as I know they have still all been imported cases). Continue to pray that this disease would not find a foothold on the islands, but would be contained and eliminated quickly. The women will have their monthly gathering this week— pray that it would be encouraging and that those who were missing last month would come. The translation project is having online meetings with a consultant this week— pray for strong internet connection and a solid translation.