It’s Saturday, Day #3 for training. Each morning we have awakened to beautiful sunny days with a slight haze to the air due to the dust from the north. The wind is a gentle breeze and when you walk out in the morning it feels like a hairdryer is blowing against your skin. By noon the air has quit moving and you feel like you are standing in a sauna.
Each morning I have been teaching these dear servants of God about preaching. Today Angelo got up and gave his testimony. He was moved to tears telling these men and women the journey of his own son’s long history of drug abuse and alienation from his own parents. Angelo often refers to himself as a “trampler.” A corporate big-whig who would trample over anything and anyone to make his way to the top. He and his dear wife Margey had come to faith in Christ years ago through a friend in Baton Rouge, LA. But it was during the heartache of losing his relationship to his drug-addicted son that he finally renounced control and surrendered his life to Christ. He wept and so did we as he recounted the precious story of his son’s long recovery from drug abuse. Angelo has been my traveling companion on this trip and I’m deeply grateful for the friendship we are developing. Incidentally, yesterday while I was teaching the preachers I happened to mention one of the New Testament Greek words for preaching was “euangelleo.” The word means, “to announce Good News.” Later as Angelo and I walked together to lunch he told me his birth name was really “Euangellos” and his Greek-born parents had shortened his name to “Angelo.” I told him that he had come along with me just so he could deliver his “Good News.”
We both were quite relieved this afternoon during our daily break when we heard the pitter-patter of rain on the corrugated tin roof of our rooms. Before we knew it the rain turned violent and what started as pitter-patter suddenly sounded like the force of a mighty freight train rushing through a canyon. Gushing rivelets of water poured from the gutterless roof splashing the dry soil below and disappearing only moments later hardly leaving trace of a puddle. It’s supposed to be the dry season. There is an almost savannah-like quality to the terrain here. You can see for miles and miles the bush and the brush with a occasional tree poking it’s branches above the horizon which jiggles in the mid-day heat. The rain felt good! But we knew it was only a temporary reprieve from the heat. In a matter of minutes, we could feel the humidity building. It was now time for the afternoon teaching session. I was glad for my breathable Ex-Officio travel clothing.
Many of these 40-50 pastors that I’m teaching this week traveled by bus or car 2 whole days to attend this training. Almost all of them are working and serving in remote Ghanaian villages among the poorest of the poor of Ghana. Their conditions are austere and difficult and almost all of those I have talked with were responsible for not one or two churches, but seven or eight congregations. They travel village to village on bicycles providing spiritual oversight to their people. One pastor from the north, shared over lunch yesterday that his congregation’s offering last Sunday was 4 Ghanaian Cedis (Ghanaian currency)—about $2.80USD, and one of the cedis had been given by he and his wife. This same pastor went on and on about the value of the training we were providing. Penetrating stories from simple people that constantly remind me why BrookLink is doing what it does.
Today was the first day it was possible to use the Internet. I also called my wife from Ghana. It was good to hear her voice. It’s good to be here. One wonders what impact these days will ultimately have on a few pastors and church planters who come from the out-the-way and hidden places in the world. Only God knows what fruit will ultimately be born. As I lay my head down to sleep tonight I'll try to remember these familiar words: “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.”
Humbly,
S t r e t c h e d
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