The Churches that Formed Me

The first time I remember standing at the front of this church, I was about 5 years old. They asked me to sing the Sunday school theme song, “I am Jesus’ little Lamb.” It was during the announcement time, and somebody thought that a little kid singing alone in front of church would be a cute way to recruit new teachers for the children’s classrooms. The words of the song I can still remember more that 3 decades later. I also remember the terror of being in front of everyone I knew, how the song that I knew by heart barely came out when the pressure was on. I remember my mother trying to comfort me between services, and I remember my stubbornness as I refused to sing the second time I was asked.

Today was a bit different. I had flown across the world to share about the work and progress being done in Malawi. The room was filled with those saints who had been my Sunday school teachers when I was younger. These days, they didn’t remember the rough years and the trouble I caused them. I was professional and spoke enthusiastically. I was happy to be here, and knew most of these church members just as they had known me my whole life. I bet nobody knew that I was still nervous to get up and speak. My sister, intuitive and empathetic, seemed to know. She took me aside and prayed for me before our time to talk. I was thankful for that, it calmed my nerves and my soul. And today my husband stood beside me. I knew that I just had to say a first introduction greeting, and he would do the rest.

As I addressed the group, I couldn’t hide the depth of my emotions. These people were with me when I prayed to be a Christian after a puppet show down the hall. They had witnessed my baptism and had prayed for me as I went to Mexico during the summers. They spoke into my life, connecting me with opportunities for short-term missions, writing recommendations for me to get into college, and convincing me to be a doctor instead of a nurse. I don’t know how well I was able to communicate my thanks, I tried not to think about it as a performance. But I think I was able to get my heart across – a thank-you to the people who had raised me, an acknowledgement that I was formed into the person that I was because of this church. As we talked about the work in Africa, I wanted them to know that this was also their work. Not only because they helped me with the logistics and prayed for me now, but because they had given their time to teach me the Bible, because they had given their attention to help me grow well. If it takes a village to raise a child, this was the community responsible for my entire spiritual formation.

I was happy to be there, back at this church which formed me. I still don’t like getting in front of everyone and speaking, but this time I didn’t rush home refusing to show my face at the next service. And in the back of my mind, I wondered if the things I talked about were just as much a recruitment for investment in children’s ministries than that day thirty years ago when I stood up and tried to sing a song.

A week later, I’m standing in front of another church, the last church Greg and I attended as I finished residency and before we left for Africa. This church helped Greg affirm his calling to ministry, and prayed us through some of our more stressful times, some of our more broken moments. We spoke at this church three years ago, so today is an update on the work God is doing, a celebration of how God has answered the church’s prayers for us in the last year. My friend stands beside me translating, and I speak in short, easy sentences. Today the English and Spanish services are combined, and I loved singing in both languages and taking communion together.

After the service, as we sit down to a potluck, I am overwhelmed by the encouragement and care of this congregation as well. People have attended this church for decades, but I have known them just a fraction of that time. I may not know all the stories or families at this church, and sometimes I even forget which names go with the faces I remember. But the love and care we feel is powerful. By the end of lunchtime, I feel so full, so encouraged. What a blessing it is to be back with these people who equipped us to go out and who welcome us home. To feel at home in these churches that formed us into who we are and helped us reach our ministry fits in such fulfilling ways.

What Can We Do? YWAM’s Medical Ministry in the Dzaleka Refugee Camp

“The blood in Mama Joy’s body is a bit like the water in this flask,” I explained to the group, pointing to different levels in the flask to accompany each number. “Normal blood levels are 12 to 15, but Mama Joy is usually around 8 or 9, and she might feel normal at that level. When her levels are at 7, she might feel tired.” I point to a spot about 60% up the flask. “At 5 or 6 she has a fast heart rate and chest pain, but if she gets to 4, she will become unconscious.”

“That’s right!” said Desire, a YWAM staff member sitting across from me. “Her blood was 4 last time and she couldn’t leave the hospital even after a transfusion.”

“She wasn’t doing well when I found her” added Dorcus, another YWAM staff member, who helps lead the team’s disabled ministries in the Dzaleka Refugee Camp.

I nod my head, and then turn back to my flask to explain how Mama Joy’s body doesn’t make as much blood when she isn’t eating well, and that she may be losing blood somewhere.

“She was doing better when we brought her beans regularly” said Fallone, who has been helping to lead the team’s Medical Ministry for the past few months. “We weren’t very consistent last time, but if we keep bringing her healthy food, then she might not collapse again.”

I agree with the group, adding that bringing healthy food would be a great idea. The team discusses plans for a minute or two, then I return to my teaching. I use my opaque flask to show that we can’t tell the exact level of her blood without checking, but if we wait too long, she will eventually have a crisis like last month. I mentioned that we can check her often and ask about early symptoms, or we can take her regularly to the hospital just to check. “We don’t know why her numbers are low,” I concluded, “but we can expect that they will get low again and she will need a transfusion like last month. What can we do to take care of her before it becomes a crisis like last time?”

We sat in a circle, me and Greg, our friend Roberta who has volunteered with this team for years, and the YWAM staff who led the new medical ministry at the Dzaleka Refugee Camp. They discussed options for making sure that there were individuals available to give blood on a regular basis, they discussed who would check in on Mama Joy regularly, and who would bring her nutritious food. It’s only been a few months since we worked with Roberta to start a small medical relief ministry with this group, but already they are working with local resources to see what can be done in nearby clinics, and how to respond to emergencies.

Already this group has helped people get to the free clinics in the area, or taken them to higher levels of care. They have helped provide Swahili translators and some food for the patients, and now they were looking into preventive measures like providing individuals with a blood pressure cuff so they can monitor their condition after a stroke. We spoke about how we might use referral letters to help patients navigate the system, how to use What’sApp so that I could help consult on difficult cases and refer them to nearby clinics, and how we should review our procedures and our boundaries as we continue with a Medical Ministry where the needs will always outnumber the resources.

I wish that I could have shared this with myself from 18 months ago, when I first visited the camp and wrote my first reflection, which ended with just a string of questions (https://www.malawimillers.com/post/refugee-camp). I’m just starting to see the answer to those questions, questions like “What should we do?” and “How can we help without causing more harm?” The answer comes in the form of these talented Christians sitting before me, who live in the community and are dedicated to helping the most vulnerable. Each is using their talents, resources, and a small bit of donated funds monthly to meet some of the needs they see in their midst. We are all growing – they are learning more about medicine and stewardship of resources when it comes to medical crises. I am learning about how to share information in culturally appropriate ways. Through it all, we are witnessing how the church can be the hands and feet of Jesus in ways I never expected. I know that this is just a beginning, a drop in the bucket, but it is making a difference, and it is bringing hope.

August 2022 Mngwangwa Report

It has been 3 ½ years since pastors Thoko and Nixon Nzunga visited Namikango mission and began discussing having a training at Goshen church in Mngwangwa. They have since brought together church leaders for trainings in agriculture (May 2021) and village savings (February 2022) in partnership with Namikango Mission with trainings led by Mr. Faith Somanje. Thirty individuals attended the first training. The group divided into a men’s and women’s group, and they farmed a community field using the methods they learned, in addition to making their own natural fertilizer during the 2021-2022 harvest season. The community field was much easier and cheaper than fields which used traditional farming methods, and the harvest was 2-3 times as much as the same field produced in previous years. Many fields in that area needed to be replanted later in the year due to less rains in December/January, but the community field which was farmed using the methods taught by Namikango did not need replanting and was ready for harvest earlier in the year, when maize prices were highest. The food from the field helped support vulnerable children and women in the community. Sixty-five people attended the village savings training in February 2022. There were extra people because spouses of the original group wanted to attend, and also because five area chiefs wanted to attend. After the training, 48 participants (6 couples and 36 individuals) made plans to reduce debt. These individuals come from 4 churches in the area and have shared the ideas from the training in their churches. Those 48 participants have made compost this year, even though at least 3 lost some natural ground cover when their fields were burned by others, the farming groups came together to help. Ten of the women are already involved in a village savings group, and 6 individuals who attended the training have started new businesses. About 26 people who used to borrow from other community members have not borrowed since the training, and 10 people are now free from debt. The women’s village savings group does continue to make borrowing compulsory for members of the group so that they have money for profits to divide at the end of the year, but otherwise it seems community members have successfully gotten out of debt. The growing men’s and women’s community agriculture groups have already started making fertilizer for the 2022-2023 planting season, and the Group Village Headmen have asked for a special training to share these farming methods with the chiefs. Pastors Thoko and Nixon are ready to plan a follow-up training in animal husbandry in Goshen in the coming months before the rains.