January Conference in Kampala

The conference in Uganda in January, was great fun. Expecially the time in the evenings with the other young missionaries (mostly young ladies.) We played Uno until 11pm a few nights and ate well. It is certainly an emotional time for me when I go from such a time of social engagement and then leave those people. Perhaps this is part of the sacrifice that Christ want me to make.

At the conference I laughed so hard that tears were streaming down my face. Can't remember precisely what the tears of joy were for; laughing at a stupid joke I made I'm sure. Most of my jokes are stupid. As God is the creator of our hearts, He surely desired us to express laughter and merriment as often as possible. We are created in His image, we laugh, sometimes so hard
we stream tears; therefore I believe Jesus also must have used humor to express love and truth.
Tell me your picture of Christ. Is it wrong to think of Jesus doubling over with a side ache as a result of laughing over many funny jokes with the disciples. I feel both images (Jesus on the Cross and Jesus laughing) are true of our Lord; great sacrifice and great humanity.
Does God laugh?

"Tears of joy will stream down their faces and I will lead them home with great care!"
Jeremiah 31:9

The time in Kampala, was a gift. The fellowship with other AIM believers
from eastern and central Africa was a great encouragement.
Our speaker spent three days teaching on the theme
of unity. He emphasized the crucial role all Christians are called to perform in loving other followers of Christ. And this unity starts with your own family, and then extends to your fellow missionary partners. The scripture came from the book of John (chapters 17-19).
A highlight for me was reading John 17:20-23, "My prayer for all of them is that they are one." Unity. Jesus fervently prayed for each one of us to demonstrate our love by living in harmony with our fellow missionaries on the field and in the workplace.

Thankfully, the Lord was crucified and resurrected in order that we can be cleansed from all
unrighteousness.

Upon my return to Torit I began my usual journey through the marketplace. Torit is a stream of shops strung together with a few open and large city streets. As I walked through one of the main strips, near where many young Sudanese boys hang out with their motor bikes,
I noticed a fairly large crowd. Now, I was curious. I meandered through to the side of the hardware shop and witnessed some very hard core pornography. Shocked at the movie being shown...in public!! I let the operator of the video (& the local Dinka store owner) have it. Not sure what the Swahili word for #$!@ but my pronounciation wasn't too far off.
What should I have done?
What would Christ have done? I believe he would have also angrily lectured the owner.
Perhaps He would have done more? Jesus was exposed to sin .. but never corupted. Never.

I love the smell of smoke even though I don't smoke. But smoke, and crowded pool halls draw me in. So yes, I played my first pool game since arriving back into Africa. It was located in one
of the make shift bars that are popping up through out Torit. As you might guess, the pool
table was ripped up and lopsided. And I was easily defeated by my experienced Sudanese opponent. Better luck to me next time huh?

I have a weight room. Hugh, life altering news I know. But it's finally assembled. Tree pulley
system, cement and re-bar barbells and water jugs, a bench and now even professionally made dumbbells. I can now fully commence with my favorite hobby. Far better than the rocks I used while in Uganda. The shredded fingers prove that.

CROSSING THE BORDER + KENYA INTO SUDAN

From Marich Pass, Kenya into the Sudan

“ Lord, will you blind the eyes of the border guards?”

It was a photo copy; Nervously, but confidently in Christ, I pulled the photo copy of my Sudan Travel Permit from my travel wallet and laid it before the Sudan Costumes official who glared at me as he sat in his desk.

Romans 5:3 “ We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials-for we know that they are good for us – they help us to learn to endure. And endurance develops strength of character in us, and character strengthens our confident expectation of salvation. And this expectation will not disappoint us, for we know how dearly God loves us because He has given us His Spirit to fill our hearts with love.”

Rejoice God, when events seem to turn against me? And these negative events are meant to strengthen my faith? To develop my character? Does anyone else struggle with this seeming strange scriptural paradox? “ How dearly God loves us…”

Luke chapter one, recounts the amazing story of the angel Gabriel announcing the birth of Jesus. Mary is the unsuspecting recipient of this world changing and life transforming news. But the angel says …. ‘dearly He loves you..” The God who fashioned the moon and stars loves us, and that means me, dearly. Dearly.

So this tells me that God loves me dearly…then my trust, absolute trust ( my health, body, words, work, family concerns ) are all rendered unto and under a God who loves me dearly. No problem or trial is NOT sent by the Lord without an intended purpose meant for His Kingdom building and under His dear love.

As His child He knows me inside and out and loves me dearly.

It was during my stay at Marich pass that the Bylers and I began to discuss the trip into the Sudan; Never a fun or predictable experience and one journey I had yet to make. All details must be in order at the Sudan/Kenyan border; Inventories of transported goods, legitimate reasons for traveling, and proper documentation is essential! It was the essential proper documentation aspect that I dropped the ball.

In Torit, Sudan I purchased a Sudan Travel Permit. This permit is permission to freely travel, leave, and re-enter the country. Searching through my documents I discovered one missing item! My Sudan travel Permit. This was major course for worry…and stress…and became a spiritual thorn in my side! Lacking my travel permit meant a few things would happen at the border. None positive on my side. If kicking myself in the hiny for mistakes were a degree I may have received a Master’ in this art. I was frustrated; Whether through a lack of preparation, honest mistake, or lack of clear understanding the reason for the mistake no longer mattered. The correct document was not on me. The Torit Travel Permit was however, neatly stacked away in my file; In Torit!

Immediately, and slightly nervously, I humbled myself before God and acknowledged the mistake. The resolution was no longer in my hands.

“ Lord, will you please blind the eyes of the border guards?”

How will I recover from this error? I placed the Ipod earphones into my ears and watched the sun set over the Marich Pass mountains in the distance.

“ Forgive me God, I’ve made a mess this time.” Stories abounded of other Christians who were pressed into walls where their faith was challenged. And our God delivered in remarkable ways…it was this help I now beseeched.

The entire evening spent in Kenya was lost on me, the beauty of Marich Pass, the sunset and sunrise, the Pokot Kenyan people. As I do when frustrated or nervous, I became quiet and withdrawn. Wallowing in my self indulgent way. Spiritually, I grew weary and depressed. Feeling I had let down the group, not as much worry over myself, but concerned about how this error may hurt or delay the progress of our journey back into the Sudan safely and securely.

Sunny and hot we arrived early in the morning near the Kenya border with the Sudan. As we approached the checkpoint the Kenyan police notified us of a recent car robbery that had taken place on the Lokichogio pass into the Sudan

And there is NO other option of another route. We prayed, waited and embarked along the route with a small convoy. Our cars drove slowly, bumping over the rocks and rocking occasionally with the curves of the uneven surfaced road.

Our mini convoy consisted of only the small, white vehicle ahead which added two passengers at the border checkpoint. Two armed Kenyan Turkana men.

We arrived without incident to Narus, Sudan.

The Sudan border station was a small town. Several shacks and tin shops were set up alongside the dusty street. The signs were in English and pulled onto the side to park our land rover and preceded to the border station. Before I rolled out of the vehicle I took a collection of photos sent to me from my family; Pictures of me holding Savannah, Mahoney Park family photos and the like. I stuffed a few into my travel wallet and breathed in, still nervous about what may happen in the next few minutes. As we walked my eyes searched every Sudanese man I walked past, hoping to smile at the right man. We entered the gates and went quickly to the border guard checkpoint station. After a short wait a plain clothed Sudanese man walked into the cramped, tin room and asked for our destination and purpose. My turn was first and walked toward him as he was seated in his chair at the table. I first acknowledged that I had made a mistake. I placed the photo copy of my Sudan Travel Permit on his desk and said that the original document was in Torit, Sudan where I lived and worked. After I strung this brilliant collection of English words together and I inhaled and shut up! He turned the paper over frontward and backward and then scanned the Travel Permit photocopy section.

“Where is the period?” His question surprised me. I looked at the gray, wrinkled copy of my face, scanning the bottom of the document hoping my eyes would find where his were focused. He never looked up, just placed his pen at the bottom line of the paper and began tracing in air the final stanza of the travel permit photocopy. His hand stopped and made a connection with the page. He paused, sighed, then looked at the paper, almost self satisfied with his personal correction he then said flatly, “ It’s O.K..”

He didn’t ask why the paper was left in Torit. He didn’t even look at my passport which I placed directly next to my travel wallet. He wasn’t demanding, belligerent, vocal or in the slightest bit interested in me. He handed the wrinkled sheet to me, looked past me at the Bylers standing behind me and motioned them forward. I said thank you and turned away. Walking outside I silently thanked the Lord for His remarkable provision of my needs. He provided the right person to check the paper and changed the man’s attitude and eyes; There is no other explanation for what transpired.

Still, as a group we were not totally out of the clear. The Sudan border and custom officials had developed a recent reputation for surly and nasty questioning.

Several tall, large African men began asking me numerous questions at the same time. Who was I, where was I headed, what country did I come from. The usual.

I explained that I was a teacher and had come to the Sudan for mission work and ministry. As we talked I pulled from my travel wallet the collection of photos that depicted my family. The men looked at these and were interested in all the smiling, white, happy faces. This may have changed their moods, though I’ll never know for certain. The men made a personal connection to me as a person after seeing my family and friends from our times at Mahoney and the airport before my departure.

In total we spent another hour checking out of the border, God granted clearance without further incident. The men did a good job. A good job of their assigned job, to check and mark the provided inventory, assign the correct paper work and allow the visitors to precede to their intended destination. Not without a Bible though! As we left the men inquired about the load of Bibles we were bringing into the country. The Bibles were a great gift from the mission’s agency in Loki, Kenya and were intended for sale to our Kenyan neighbor workers for our Bible studies. But one of the Sudanese men asked for a copy. So I opened the box and took a Bible out. Then grabbed a photo of my siblings and niece: I was hesitant to part with the photo of my parents or small group but placed it into the Bible to be used as I reader’s marker. From there we left.

And from here in Torit, on New Years Day, 2008 I write. Lord You deliver and to you alone is due all praise and worship.

After Christmas in Kenya -- DEC. 26, 2007

After a wonderful Christmas with my Kenyan family, Stanley and Sylvia Mutangili the journey out of Nairobi began…on the wild and often terrible Kenyan highway system. Christmas was celebrated sans Christmas trees or holiday lights, snow or my own family from Lincoln, Nebraska. Love you.

I have spent only two Christmas’ away from the comfort and care of my own family, and both were in the home of Stanley and Sylvia. Their comfort and friendship has radically changed my life. A unique relationship in the making which the Lord has been sewing together for the better part of four years now.

No place I would rather spend the day of our Savior’s birth.

Early on the morning of the 26^th the three of us awoke and packed the little white car. We left and drove two hours to the nearby, and large, city of Nakuru, Kenya. Upon arriving we met up with my South Sudan team leaders, Phil and Linda Byler, and their son and daughter-in-law. We hugged goodbyes and the five of us began the long journey north into the desolate area of North Kenya. As we drove it became apparent that we would not have the time ( daylight hours ) necessary to reach our original night time destination.

As we all felt fatigued and the land rover’s headlights were failing anyway, we decided to stop in a remote area of Northern Kenya called Marich’s Pass. We turned right, from one dusty road onto another dusty road, and headed into an unknown stop. The Bylers were familiar with the story behind Marich Pass.

I was not.

A British man started a training center and school for the local Kenyan tribal group called the Pokot. Over the seventeen years this facility grew into a large, but hidden, campus with many nice facilities for overnight stays and small guest houses and rooms and a kitchen. Nestled into the Kenyan woods was a story book looking village that overlooked a dried out river bed river. We stopped and met the woman who operates the facility. Hidot was an Eritrean woman who had married the man who founded Marich Pass. And she had recently become a widow. Her husband who’s vision grew this sweet paradise, had been killed earlier in the year after being struck by a Kenyan passenger vehicle called a Matatu. His loss meant that her family, from all over the world, had gathered at Marich Pass to comfort their mother and help her mourn during the Christmas season.

We met Hidot and talked. She was still very hurt from the loss of her husband and wept openly over his loss as we spoke. Hidot would be the age of my mother, and my heart hurt for her. Had this been my mother… can’t imagine.

Thankfully, her family and extended relatives had arrived from all over the globe to be apart of this Christmas time. It was this group of family and individuals which really made the experience at Marich Pass stand out.

Hidot’s family, and friends of the family, had ties to the following nations and American states: Eritrea, Uganda, Miami, Nebraska, London, England, Switzerland, Juba, Sudan and of course us; We had Pennsylvania, Massachusetts and Nebraska covered. Never before have I had a dinner with such an eclectic group of individuals. There were the young Eritrean men who operated a night club in Kampala, Uganda, the British journalism student Lee from London and his girlfriend Ruth from Eritrea. There was Dempsey and his wife, now living in Miami but with a long history of extended relatives who lived and operated a bank franchise in Lincoln, Nebraska. Small world huh? Hidot’s son, Paul, was an Eritrean national but moved to Marich Pass, Kenya from Zurich, Switzerland to help start a non government foundation. There was Robin, an elderly British national who has lived in Africa since 1947! All of these people were having an evening dinner of spaghetti and salad and became friends for an evening….very interesting conversations.

hey....back into Bonjoge. My old stomping grounds were once again trampled underneath my size 10 Harleys. For two days i was able to visit the area of western Kenya where i taught for two years. The drive into the country of kenya from up north was bumpy, very dusty and filled with bruises and even a flat tire. Typical Kenya. God certainly is to be thanked. How great it felt to visit everyone that I lived with for two years. The Chichir family, my headmaster Elias Cheriuyot and also many of my fellow teachers had the pleasure of being the recipients once again of my sarcastic humor. I was the recipient of their great fellowship an company again. Great ugali, a wonderful wedding ( Congrats Elly ) and what a terrible drive back to finish it.....accept ....naw. It all was a blessing. Even the bumpy Matatu ride back into nairobi. The Lord was generous to me. Matthew

LIFE in Torit..... November 2007

“ A Vision with a Task makes a Missionary”

Lord, may this be the case. “ Torit, is becoming the small Babylon.” Said Julius, a local Kenyan worker who I saw reading on his own the book of Thessalonians.

How right he is. At night here in Torit you can hear the drunkenness and debauchery. It’s everywhere. Even last night we were all praying here in Torit. Phil and Linda, The Nobles, Meghan, Kelly and I, when we heard the outside bell ring. Phil returned about five minutes later and said, “ There is a young lady, saying she is looking for Matthew Lovelace.!” I am thinking, OK. Hmmmm.

I went outside in the darkness with Phil and sure enough, there was a young, pretty high school aged girl, looking quite intoxicated and lost. She kept repeating my name and emphasizing that she wanting me for……. Eventually, we convinced her that she needed to return home and not be hanging outside the gate. She did, then returned shortly later that evening. It is sobering the level of need for the young in Torit .

A day later Linda Byler and I were walking to the local Torit Hospital. There is an AIM doctor from Uganda coming this next week to perform eye cataract surgeries. As we were outside the hospital I saw a young teacher from the Torit Day School shouting my name from a far. He came close, grasped my hand and immediately I could see that Vincent was extremely intoxicated. I took his hand, kept looking into his eyes and asking him how he was…really was? It was only maybe four in the afternoon. Literally two hours after school had just ended. And this guy was already smashed sadly! I have noticed other teachers as well leaving school, then returning with bloodshot eyes after lunch. Sad. Anyway, the teacher and I talked a little then he left me, returning to his home. He boasted then about the four beers he had and said as he left, “ Matthew, we are preparing for battle, we are prepared to fight!” Perhaps he was a former soldier. I would say though that his attitude reflects a growing number of young men around me.

The Torit day school resembles a bombed out collection of large outhouses.

Well, not exactly, but close. The area itself has about eight main buildings. Each has a nasty, gray color to the outside and all are very outdated. This contrasts to the extreme with the Torit Primary elementary School that is brand new, named after the late Sudanese leader John Garang and is beautifully constructed. How this happened? I would reply in Arabic “ Ana ma aruf?’ I have no idea. Sudan!

One of my prayers recently has been immersing myself into the Sudanese culture. Language, relationship building, and teaching. Africans and African educational leadership highly values the sciences. When I met with the Deputy Educational Leader of the Government of the South Sudan, James Amoko, I joked that my father was a science and biology teacher! And then I said, “ Yeah, he didn’t pass any of those science genes onto me though!” Mr. Amoko looked sternly, though not angrily at me, and stated bluntly…“ that is too bad, he should have!” End of discussion. Thankfully, the Lord has given me the chance to be persuasive and persistent in seeking that which He puts on my heart. God opened the doors into the school system amidst the initial refusal of two men. The Government of South Sudan Educational Deputy Minister, and then the Principal of the Torit School itself. Without the Lord’s help, those would be two pretty big no-no’s into working. When Phil had originally met with these men at first many weeks earlier their initial reactions were…not good toward a missionary/foreign teacher “infiltrating” their school systems. Especially, a teacher with no science background!

I love having my back against the wall. In the sit down discussions/interrogations with both men I was honest, forthright and truly trusting that Christ could remove any boundaries that laid in the hearts of these two important men. But yeah, I was sweating a little bit. I asked God to allow me to be a trailblazer for His work here in Torit. As AIM, we need inroads into the local community here of Torit. Teaching is the first step into the city really. Now, I have a job and base of work, acceptance, and relation to the community. I fill a tangible need and a respected position at that. We can continue to lift up and pray now for the salvation of the men within the school system. Mr. Perligreno as the Torit Head teacher has since been very welcoming to me and our relationship has blossomed. God, God, God all the way!

I of course am not certified in any science field. Yet, I had been praying much recently over becoming a more vital part of teaching. This meant looking into a science field for me. Biology is about plants and animals right, how hard can that be! So I borrowed a copy of the Sudanese Secondary Education Curriculum book and copied out the entire syllabus outline for years one and two. I then prayed about asking into teaching the field of Biology. I finished writing, reviewed everything related the Biology field, then walked into Mr. Perligreno’s office and approached him with the syllabus booklet. I offered to teach Biology! And thankfully, he accepted. A new challenge for the coming year.

The Torit staff is split in two sections. The teaching staff is half Arabic, meaning teachers from the Northern Sudan ( Khartoum ) and the other half is Sub-Saharan African instructors. The Sudanese curriculum is in shambles. There are NO books to be used by the students. And there may be two hundred or more students. The past few days after returning from Ikotos my entire task was to understand the Sudanese system of education by asking questions of the Deputy Headmaster and the staff. To my surprise, this only complicated the situation. No teacher is even sure of when the exams will show up. The staff of about thirty have/share maybe one textbook for the entire school!

Further confusing the situation is that the law requires an Arabic curriculum and English curriculum. So literally half of my teaching co-workers are Northern Arabic speaking, sent by the Northern government to instruct the Southern Black students in Arabic. Another motivation for me to immerse myself in the local Arabic. So there is an Arabic stream of students and an English speaking and learning stream of students. Learning Arabic now is a great value. I do believe that part of truly loving people in another culture is learning the language.

I have made this my goal to be done so completely, even to the point of walking around the town with my notepad and memory cards for using not just Arabic, but funny, Swahili as well. The rest of the Torit Day School teaching staff comes from Uganda, Kenya, and nearby areas of the South Sudan. Outreach is right in front of me now!

One of the difficulties that we have encountered to a degree here in the Sudan is developing a strong, outreach mindset with the Africa Inland Church leadership.

So much of the local AIC leaders are interested only in local church planting and missionary staffing at their local institutions. Adding to the problem I believe is the AIC concentration on their own people groups and local areas. Phil has felt this “pressure.” When the AIC leaders discovered that a new, young missionary teacher was coming into the Sudan their was an overwhelming sense of agreement, made without my consultation that I would be “placed” in Ikotos. The local AIC leaders were very, very much desiring the new, young missionary man ( me) to be in Ikotos. My opinions and heart felt leadings were not in the discussions. Phil courageously stated to the AIC Church leader of the Eastern Equitorea State of the Sudan that he couldn’t just demand and mandate that an AIM missionary go to a local place. But that God would call that person to the location that He willed. Many of the AIC South Sudan leadership staff were themselves former soldiers. The military mind set goes deep, even amongst the believers in the country. So a personal prayer request of mine has been the AIC Torit Church to see the VALUE of outreach. Not just church planting and local tribal school ties…. This needs to develop for true reconciliation.

After arriving back into Torit I immediately returned to the Torit day School. Phil and I met with Mr. Perligreno, the Headmaster and we clarified the nature of my work. We set up a contract agreement that he thankfully accepted without questions. Seeing faith in action amazes me!