Washed out road dry

Josiah’s Perspective of our Red Sea experience.

So to add even more color to this story, I’ve decided to post Josiah’s perspective on it.  Josiah has been here 2 other times with TTC, so he’s not a newbee.  He’s 20-something and is a long time family friend.  We’ve known him since he was 8 months old.  He’s staying with us until December.  I’m rather hoping that the rest of his time in Niger is a little less exciting than this.

As soon as we arrived home late Monday night, well, as soon as he took a shower, Josiah was chatting with a friend telling him about the experience while it was fresh in his mind.  His words are cryptic yet detailed and I enjoyed hearing his take on things.  The response of his friend is even more cryptic, and quite humorous.  Those are in italics.

Josiah’s Journey

Well, it was quite a day. Among other things: It poured rain for hours, a bridge went out, we sank an SUV into a river, and someone almost died.

And I have sand EVERYWHERE.

You know how your feet can move around a bit in your shoes? Not mine. No wiggle room. Sand. My entire body, caked in sand. My underwear had at least a full cup of sand in them.

(Friend D): ahaha wow! is that from being in the river? What happened?

Well, the bridge went out. We had to get home. The water was rising. We watched someone else successfully cross. We tried to cross. Got 1/3 of the way through, started floating. Shortly after we started floating, we started sinking.

Water starts coming in the doors. The car slowly fills. The engine doesn’t die, we try to get some people to push us. No luck. Water in the car continues to rise. Reach back and grab soaked bags from the trunk, at least the ones I could reach. Clutch tablet closely. Water rises. Climb out window onto roof.

After transferring what we could save to dry land, try to push/pull/lift car out of sandy river. There are maybe 30 local villagemen watching/trying to help. 3 or 4 languages being spoken, none of which I understand. As the river washes away the sand behind the car, it tilts up at a steeper and steeper angle. We try to push it, and get it out of the hole. Water is neck-deep behind the car. We keep pushing. We make progress, but the sand keeps collapsing, and the hole pretty much moves with us. Car ends up pointing up at around 30 degrees.

Local dude passes out from the fumes behind the car, gets a lungful of water before anyone notices, stops breathing. Carried to shore. Is unconscious and not breathing for something like 2 minutes. Comes to somehow, walks away.

Car is clearly stuck at this point, at a rakish angle, and completely full of water. Engine is still somehow running.

Danette doesn’t want to get out because if she shuts off the engine, the water will flood up the tailpipe and wreck the engine with sand and such. But she was in the car, and my dad went to try and get cell coverage. Tara, our other American, was watching all the stuff we had saved, mostly electronics, on the shore.

So, picture this:

Danette is sitting in the car. It’s at a 30 degree angle, front up. The water is above her waist. She’s got the window down, one hand on the wheel, and one hand resting on the edge of the window. She was a bit fazed at first, of course, but at this point, she’s smiling, and talking to the group of ten or so locals who have gathered around her window in the rushing water.

Standing just outside her window, it’s about chest high.

Most of the locals prefer to speak French, but she doesn’t know it, so she asks if they know Hausa, the trade language. Some of them do. So she starts sharing what we’ve been doing, that we just came from a youth camp we’re hosting, and how she’d like some hot tea. (It was cold water!)

The conversation continues, and she decides to ask them, “have you ever heard the story of Jesus?”

“Oh, a little bit.”

“Where?”

Some town nearby.

“Well, Jesus is God’s son. I know you don’t like to hear that.” [Muslims don’t believe that God had a son.]

“So, have you ever sinned? Ever made a mistake? We’re all sinners.”

“Oh yeah, yeah, yeah.”

“Well, God sent Jesus to take all our sins, and he died for our sins, and when he rose he took them away, because he loves us.”

The guys around are all saying – “Yes, yes, it’s true!”

“You’re saying ‘yes’, but do you really believe it?”

Islam is all about works.

“You know, when I say we’re saved through Jesus, it has nothing to do with works. You accept his grace and forgiveness through faith.  THEN He gives you work to do.  He shows you His plan for your life.  So, you can accept Jesus, but after that it doesn’t mean that it’ll just be an easy life. There’s gonna be problems. I’ve been in Niger 17 years and I came here with my family to tell others the truth about Jesus and look where I’m sitting right now [in this car]. But when you have Jesus, you have someone to go through the problems with you. And God has a plan for your life.  And what about heaven?  I know that you don’t think you can have assurance of going to heaven.  But you see as believers in Jesus, we have the assurance of eternal life.  In fact, if this car washes away right now and I drown in it, I’ll immediately be with Jesus in heaven.  You can have that assurance too.”

So yeah.

She’s just sitting in this flooded car, in the middle of the river, happily sharing the gospel. Smiling like the sun, as if she’s a queen on a throne instead of a woman covered in mud sitting in a flooded car. It was really something.

(Friend S): that’s insane

She and her husband head up the ministry over here – 35(ish?) churches, 2 or 3 bible schools, 2 primary schools… She’s totally awesome. Oh, and while all this is happening, the sun goes down. Dad’s off looking for help, Tara is covering the stuff, and I’m making sure Danette doesn’t get washed down the river and killed or something. And it gets really dark. And the car is still in the river. And the water is still rising.

So there’s the question – will there be help soon? When do we just abandon the car?

(Friend S): I feel like the most pathetic human being / Christian right now…

Because somehow, it’s still running. Normally it’s unable to push the exhaust out the tailpipe because of the water pressure and your car dies. But for some reason it was still going, even with the tailpipe like 5 1/2 feet under. So what do you do? And then the electrical system on the car starts going nuts. Lights turn on and off, and Danette’s window rolls itself up. She can’t get it to go back down. That’s bad, of course. That’s how people die in situations like this.

So Danette climbs out the passenger window.

And lo and behold, the cavalry arrives. My dad has conjured up a MASSIVE road grader. Which pulls out the two other cars that are stuck with no problem. But then comes our car. It’s further out, and, like I said, the back end is way, way down in the water. They can’t find anywhere to hook the cable to. They try 3 or 4 times, and it breaks each time.

Finally, success.

Once the car is out, everyone wants money. The people who helped us try to push it out early on, the guy with the grader, and probably a bunch of people who did nothing at all. It was bedlam.

Meanwhile, the car finally died as we pulled it out. But the electrical system isn’t willing to give up yet. It’s going absolutely nuts. The car begins to try and start itself. Nobody is doing anything. The key isn’t being turned. But it keeps repeatedly trying to start. This goes on for about 5 minutes, until my Dad manages to disconnect the battery.

A bit later, some  pastors and Danette’s husband arrive. But they don’t have any chains or other elegant way to tow the car. So they take giant springs, run them through random points of metal at the corner of the car and the truck that is towing it, and then through holes at the ends of a metal bar. Apparently they’re still slowly towing it somewhere.

But we made it home, and I finally got to get all the sand off. I have sand in my hair, behind my ears, because when we were pushing from behind the water was so deep you almost went under.

(Friend S): dude… I don’t even lift.

And on the way back, we’re trying to figure out how we’re going to get out to the camp tomorrow, since the bridge is out and our car is useless. And I’m just sitting in the back thinking to myself, “my life is a party.” I mean, it might be a mess, but that’s what you should expect when you’re out here – I didn’t even mention what we did today, that was just the trip home.

(Friend S): soooo uhhh… I filled out a spreadsheet today. yep. that’s about it.. . . that’s insane dude. 

So.  There you have it.  The story from another angle.  And for those who think being a Christian is boring…all I can say is – “Seriously”?

Oh – and a friend who has been here and traveled that road with us during dry season sent me this picture.  It’s the reason we had to drive around on the riverbed ‘road’.

Washed out road dry

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Part 2: I don’t need any more stories. I’m good.

The first half of this story can be found here.

The groundwork has been laid.  Or in the case of this story, it is very shaky.  As we were to find out as we entered my Red Sea.  See, it really is red.   Just as a reminder, here’s what it looked like.

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That trooper is Pastor Scott, getting ready to enter the muddy water.

So, the Hilux has come through grinning and we have decided that we too can take the plunge.  And plunge we did.  Literally.

I gunned it, and off we went.  Now my sense of time has been all messed up.  But I’m pretty sure it was a matter of seconds that it felt like we began to float.  Yep.  The wheels had left the ground – or what there was of it.  I kept gunning, I think we were all rocking or leaning forward, willing it to move forward.  NOT happening.

Living in a place like Niger, situations like this while not common, are not unexpected.  And you just sit and wonder, ‘Huh.  What do we do now’?  But I think this is the first time I’ve personally been in the midst of ‘a situation’ (that’s what the Jamaican’s call them.  Situations.  Not problems), that is ongoing – and has great potential for great danger in so many ways.

Amazingly, the engine kept running.  Based on instructions I was given, that was a good thing.  Something to be happy about.  While pondering for a minute or 2 (or was it seconds?), I realized that I felt cold water at my feet.  I looked down and said ‘The water is coming in”.  It was then that I was informed that the water was up to mid-calf of those in the back seat.  No one was screaming.  Everyone was praying, and I’m sure thinking a myriad of thoughts.  As was I.

Like:  It’s going to be dark in about 18 minutes.  Very dark.  Will  we get out before then?  Are we going to flip over in the fast flowing water (rapids) to our right?  I started to remember stories I’d heard of others and quickly dismissed those.  Or –  will I be spending the night sitting in the middle of this lake?  Because I’m not leaving this vehicle.  I will keep that engine running.  And, what about this team?  I’m responsible for them too.  And what about all those helping to push?  What if we do hit ground and we lunge forward and hit someone?    And, we WILL get out of this water and I refuse to go backwards.  We’re NOT going back.  We will only move forward.  All the while praying for God’s mercy, grace and gosh darn we needed His help!

As the car is filling up, I think we made a unified decision that everyone get out.  Except me.  I’d already determined I wouldn’t leave.  There were already loads of people at the sea, and at this point, most of them were surrounding us, and everyone started pushing.  I had it in gear and by golly we were going to make it. And we did – about 50 feet or so.  I think.  That was after much effort. Shouting was going on in probably 4 languages.  We were quickly filling with water and getting heavier.  I was sitting in the driver’s seat with water up to my waist. Because the back was filled with water it was heavier, pushing the front end up a bit. Maybe 30 degrees?  I looked back at one point and the water was up to the ceiling in the back of the vehicle.  All our stuff was floating.  We did manage to get our valuable things out – purses, camera’s, phones.  Except Delfin.  His phone was in his pocket.

So Tara is on the bank guarding our belongings.  Scott and Delfin were looking for some kind of help. Never mind that he doesn’t speak a word of the local language.  We got wind that a tractor was coming to pull vehicles out.  That was a real glimmer of hope as we sat waiting.  Josiah was near the vehicle with me, as well as countless other young men.  I had the window down, and we were just waiting.  Josiah was measuring the distance that the water was climbing up.

As I looked around, it occurred to me that I had a very captive audience.  So I decided it to be the perfect opportunity to share the Gospel.  By this time, darkness had fallen so I couldn’t see the dark faces I was talking to.  But I could hear them.  And they could hear me.  One of them told me he was cold.  Which made me realize I was cold too.  Whatever.  Seemed insignificant.   As I said, Josiah was standing there too, and even though he couldn’t understand the conversation, he did understand that I was talking to these young men about Jesus.  And he found it quite interesting.  Well, I’m not quite sure what he thought, but just that he said he would give $100 right then (and this is a guy who detests spending money) just to be able to have a picture of this scene.  So rather than write about it all here,  in the next few days, I will include Josiah’s thoughts on the whole experience in a guest post.

At some point while talking with these guys, my window went up.  It was down, then it was up.  The water was giving the electrical system a mind of it’s own.  The far back was full to the roof, the back seat was full to the headrests, and water was above my waist in the drivers seat.  I couldn’t get the window back down.  Things were beeping.  Extraordinarily, the engine was still running.  I had that.

Here I am in the drivers seat…

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I don’t see myself as stubborn, but I can be pretty determined when necessary.  But I began to think at this point staying in my running vehicle was stupid.  It was filling up with water, and my window was stuck up.  Scott (I) finally decided that I too needed to come out.  Dressed in a skirt and shirt, I half swam-half climbed out the passenger side window.  There were several hands helping me.  I was surprised at how weak and shaky I felt, but I blamed that on the uneven muddy ground and deep water. The engine was still running!  Scott and one of my new friends helped me to the ‘shore’.  While I was having church inside the vehicle, Scott was finally able to walk to where there was a signal (did I mention that even though I was able to talk to Neal at the mouth of the sea, once I entered there was no signal?) and he was able to make some calls.  Until that time, the last Neal heard from us was that we were going to try and plow through and he hadn’t been able to get us after that either.

Now that we know our people knew what was going on, there was some relief, knowing that help would somehow be on the way.

Meanwhile, shivering, I’m being pushed, pulled and steadied, while walking to the spot where Scott was able to make the call.  I was going to try and reach Neal. Remember it’s a dark night.  And what to our wondering eyes should appear, but some sort of tractor, wonderfully near.  He wasn’t a mirage – and you can only have those in sunlight anyway.  He was the real deal.  In Hausa it’s called a Dandankaro.  Some sort of road grader I’m told.  But his biggest asset was that he was big.  Very big.  As shaky as I was, we felt happy enough to abandon the phone call attempt and go back to the swimming truck.  This was going to be exciting.

Check it out!

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At this point someone decides (probably Scott), that I should go wait with Tara and Josiah while he goes and helps with excavation.  So we climb to the top of sand pile where tons of other people are watching as well.  There’s a village nearby, and I’m pretty sure the Red Sea was providing loads of entertainment for all the men from that village.

Here’s the scene when Mighty Yellow showed up.

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Mighty Yellow first pulls out the yellow van.  Just yanks it right up out of the water.  Happy screams and cheering.

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The blue truck is next.  Same result. More cheering.

My new found friends who are now quite sure I’m bonkers, were waiting with me and informed that as soon as mine was out they were going home. I found out some about them, and were surprised that some were married with children. They also assured me the engine would be fine =). Our turn has come. Scott is in the water with several others tying(?) whatever it was they were using to the bumper.   Second attempt.  Nope.  Somewhere here – I think after attempt #1, Scott got in the drivers seat.

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I’m trying to hold hope up, but it’s receded a bit, unlike the water.  Finally they are able to secure the rope (?) to something after they opened the hood.  After significantly more effort than what was used for the other vehicles, our shiny white 4Runner emerged from the sea.

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So many people were ‘helping’… And amazingly the trusty engine ran all the way until she was pulled out! (I don’t think I’ve ever called my vehicle a ‘she’ before, but somehow it seems appropriate here) Then….she gave it up.  Except for the electrical system. That was going bonkers!  It, and by ‘it’ I mean the electrical system, kept on trying to start the engine.  It was almost comical.  Funny or not, it couldn’t have been good, so Scott was able to disconnect the battery.

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After she was pulled out, the water began to drain from inside.  First I cheered.  And thanked God.  Then it was sad.  I don’t know why.  But to think that a couple hours earlier we were sitting in our comfortable and strong 4Runner, as she was returning us from a day of camp and ministry, and here she was all  soaked with water and sand.  In places where water and sand ought not be.  I guess it’s like anything after any kind of destruction.

I actually don’t remember getting back in the driver’s seat, but at some point I did.  Oh yeah, it was so that we could now be pushed up toward the road, to make towing home easier.

In comes my knight in shining armor.  Drove right by us actually.  I tried to honk but remember the electrical system was bonkers.  He was with Grampa in their vehicle.  The cars wanting to get to the other side were lining up and it was dark, so they went right past us.  But they weren’t going to get far – unless they entered the water.  Neal walks up to see me in the drivers seat and just smiles and says it’s ok.  Then I heard the familiar voice of my friend and co-missionary Lola.  I couldn’t see her  but I heard, “Danette?  Hello.  It is well.  Why don’t you let Pastor Nelson drive now.”  Such a welcome and soothing voice.  I think what I said is, “That would be wonderful.”

Knowing we would be leaving soon, so many people were crowding around – SO many people – telling me how much they had helped and what was I going to give them.  At that point I was so frustrated and spent.  My Knight showed up again and I told him I couldn’t deal with them anymore – please make them go away.  He did, as the team and I quickly got in with Dad.  We were all soaked and covered from head to toe in sand/mud.

From there things moved quickly.  Dad drove us home and Pastor Nelson and Pastor Koyejo and Lola had come in a Hilux and they were there to tow our 4Runner.   It was a great feeling to leave the whole ‘situation’ in someone else’s hands.  

We arrived home at 10:30 pm.  The tow-ers got our vehicle to our mechanic and parked it.  Neal got home after 12.

The hot shower was wonderful, and reminded me of a thought I had while sitting in the middle of the sea: this will be over at some point, and I will get to take a hot shower.  From the time we left Tamou to the time we got home was only 4 ½ hours.  For a drive that takes 90 minutes, we sure crammed quite an adventure in that time!

Our mechanic has taken stuff apart and is assessing and trying to dry stuff out.  Tomorrow we should have more of an idea of the damage.

Now, what are my ‘take-aways’ from this experience?  I think I’m still figuring them out.  But two things come to mind.

First, God is doing great things both among the youth in Niger, and in the Tamou region specifically.  The title of this post is “I don’t need any more stories.” But honestly, if ‘stories’ are what it takes to bring more people to Jesus, bring them on.  So many of our stories come from these trips and times in Tamou, which to me is a clear indication that God is doing great things there.  Even greater than we know.  So do we think it odd that the enemy would be against us?  Not really.  However, we are sure that if God is for us, who can be against us?  Ain’t no Red Sea stopping the Kingdom of God, and it’s not stopping us!

Second, Prayer.  It’s the backbone of what we do.  I’m never really sure that I can effectively communicate its’ importance.  Before these camps, I sent out a request for prayer email to almost 500 people.  The TTC team sent requests to around 200.  That’s a lot of prayer cover.

I don’t even want to consider what could have happened in this situation if we didn’t have that prayer, and I also wonder what could be done if there were even more.

The youth camps were effective and powerful, training up and army for the Lord in Niger.  And prayer for them needs to continue.

And yes, prayer for us.  For our team here.  For all of our families.  For our churches.  For our partners.  For the finances needed for things like vehicle repairs and church buildings and Bible schools.  I could go on.  So if you’ve ever wondered if prayer matters, take it from me, sitting in the middle of the Red Sea, we seriously depend on it.

From Famine to Flood:The Niger River

We live in the desert.  In Niger.  Where drought is a way of life.  I’ve heard it referred to as ‘the forgotten famine’.  We’ve heard it said that every year is a famine year in Niger, it’s just that some years are worse than others.  Like this year.  Here’s just a snippet of an article I came across:

In markets all over Niger, hungry people are selling hungry animals for half their normal value, giving up on the milk and money of tomorrow so that their children can eat today. Their plight is a sign of how far the economy of the desert has broken down, leaving its people unable to feed themselves in drought after drought. abcnews.go.com

Niger has received quite a bit of press this year because of the drought. But we are in the news once again  – but not because of drought.  Because of flood.  Yep.  Flooding in the desert.

It seems that the Niger river is the highest it’s been in recorded history.  We are in rainy season, so the river is expected to grow.  But when it grows from this:

to this:

…in a very short period of time, well, that’s just too much water.  That, and the fact that the dikes around here have broken…

Rivers are sources of life.  Cities, towns and villages are built around rivers because of all they offer. They provide some industry.  They’re beautiful.  It’s cooler on the river.   In fact I can’t count the number of times Neal has told me how much he’d love to build a house on the river.  Almost every time he looks at it I’d bet.   And he says it like he’s saying it for the first time.  But then there’s that pesky  flooding issue.  I know some places are expected to flood regularly and life has prepared for that.  But here in the desert, one does not expect serious flooding to be the norm.  However, this year, the Niger River here in Niamey has burst the dikes and burst its banks.  According to reports, 65 people have been killed and over 125,000 are homeless.  And I’m sure those numbers  have increased.  There’s nothing pesky about that.

It doesn’t matter if you possess a little or a lot.  Losing everything is everything.  And I would daresay that if what you lost was ‘little’, replacing that may be more difficult than if you had ‘a lot’.  That’s just my analysis.

I didn’t take any of these flood pictures.  But they were all taken in Niamey by my Facebook friends.  (Hope you guys don’t mind me using them here -Lisa Rohrick, Nancy DeValve, if I missed you, let me know and I’ll add your name).  But most of these are just the areas near the bridge.  Down or Up river there are neighborhoods that were wiped out.

Could you carry your bed in a flood?

Here, the bank of the river is ‘normally’ on the right side of the boat.

The flooding has not only affected the people in Niger that we are here to serve.  It has also affected those that are here to serve.   Though there were many affected and I’m sure I don’t know the half of it, those I’m referring to here are the missionaries and Nigerienes who are Sahel Academy.   S.A. is where our kids have attended school since we have lived in Niamey.  Trae and Tanika have both graduated from there.  Tobi has been a student there since 1st grade.  It’s a beautiful school with wonderful and godly people that teach and serve our children.  The school has provided many memories for our kids and for us as well.  Here are some of the things that have taken place over our years associated with Sahel Academy.

Tobi with his friends at a banquet.

Tanika with John at a banquet.

More banquet…

The famous Casa del Burrito  – senior fundraiser and best (and only) Mexican Restaurant in town!

Open for business.  More chips anyone?

Then there was the Medieval Festival.  Tobi and Micah have grown a bit since then.

Mr. Ben  teaching Tobi the ins and outs of bow-hunting.

Then there are graduations.

Trae’s class. 2009

Ms. James giving Trae his diploma on The Green.

Tanika sang at Trae’s graduation.

And Tanika’s class – 2011.  Same place.  Different year.

Trae sang at Tanika’s graduation with Chantelle and Joy.

Tanika sang at her  grad too – with Julie and Eli.  I know, it’s all rather confusing.  But it’s fun!

Even those in our ministry were a part of Sahel events.

And of course I can’t leave out all the NUTS Softball tournaments that Neal and Trae played in together – and Neal continues to play.

I’m showing all these pictures not just for the sake of all the memories that have been made on this campus, but also to show what Sahel looked like before the Niger River decided to join it.  The following pictures were taken in the last few weeks, after the river swelled and the dike broke.

This is Sahel Academy today.  Again, these are not my pictures. I really had no desire to go and see the flooding.  Pictures were enough.  I know it’s real, but I’d rather not see it ‘in person’ at the moment.

Entrance

Brian & Kathy Bliss, the school directors, canoeing to get around campus.  Their home, along with lots of other missionaries, are here as well.  To be exact, 53 people from the mission community were displaced.  Proud to know them and their smiles.

An elementary classroom.

Classroom buildings.

Dining Hall and High School Building.

This is the new administration building on campus.  Many of us have canoed on the Niger River, but never this close to the school!

Inside the administration building.

There’s more than one way to go canoeing.

Toilet paper commercial?

This is Centre Biblique, an SIM compound right next to Sahel Academy.  It was also flooded and many displaced.

Music room.

Enter the community.  Quite an amazing community.  Every Sunday evening here in Niamey there is a NEWS service.  No – not the communication of newly received information variety – but NEWS: Niamey English Worship Service.  Sunday, August 26th, a ‘town hall’ meeting preceded the regularly scheduled NEWS.  It’s location had to be changed though, because the services are usually held at Sahel Academy, which we know is now part of the Niger River.   The discussion was about what has happened, and what to do from here.

Because a large percentage of NEWS attendees are in some way involved with or touched by Sahel Academy and Centre Biblique, one might have expected a sober atmosphere.  But what we found when we got there was a spirit of ‘rallying’.  In spite of the fact that life as we know it for many has dramatically changed, there was a ‘with God,  we will pull up our boot straps, work hard, and see what He’s going to do for us’ attitude.  And the evening’s discussion didn’t only include talking about what we need to do to find homes for our missionaries and a location or locations to start school, there was a big emphasis on what needed to be done for the nationals involved in the school as well as the help that needed to be provided for the many Nigerienes who had lost their homes.

To be honest, what has happened has not affected me directly.  Indirectly, yes, but not directly.  In fact this year we are even homeschooling Tobi.  That decision was made almost 2 years ago so has nothing to do with these events.  So the flooding of the school isn’t affecting the education of our child.  And I haven’t lost anything in the flood.  Not one thing.  I haven’t heard of any of our church members that have lost homes either.

But I can relate on some level to what has happened.  No, I’ve never lost my home in a flood.  But I have been a part of pouring my whole heart into something and seeing it destroyed.  I’m thinking specifically of when our church and bible school compound in Maradi was burned.   Almost completely destroyed.  We had only been in the country for 2 1/2 years before dedicating the new church God helped us build.  And in one day, one hour really,  it was gone.  That’s a whole long, victorious story by itself.  But it was painful in the beginning.

We were reminded once again that when you are doing what God calls you to do, there will be opposition.  Many are the afflictions of the righteous.  So often we think when challenges and problems occur, it’s God ‘closing a door’.  I beg to differ.  There is an enemy out there that is working overtime to stop us from fulfilling God’s call on our lives.  In our case it is to plant churches among the unreached and disciple the new believers.  But that verse in Psalms doesn’t stop there.  It goes on to say ‘but the Lord delivers him out of them all’.  ALL.  The attack on our church that day felt personal.  We’d come to a foreign land and poured our heart and soul into the people.  And for that we get attacked and burned out?  But through the pain of that, one of my very first thoughts was ‘the enemy is going to so regret what he’s done here today…’.  And so he has.  That attack provided us lots of free advertising and raised our ministry to a new level.  The opportunities to witness were everywhere.   People were coming to us.  When stopped at checkpoints while traveling through the country, we would be asked if we had any tracts on what we believed.  Someone once stopped Neal in the market saying that he saw him on TV, saw what happened and wanted to know why he was smiling while smoke was going up all around him.  And – God not only provided enough for the church and compound to be built back, but to be built bigger and better!  I’d say God delivered us.  Press on.

So while we’re looking at a tragedy, God is working and will deliver.  Just as our church not only recovered but grew, God will do some amazing things through this event.  If we trust him.  The missionary community has already shown great trust in the Lord by the way they have responded.  Our churches and pastors have visited some of the schools where the displaced people are staying.  We are giving out food and clothes along with the preaching of the Gospel.  Before giving out boxes of food, our Pastor Zabeyrou preached about the love of God.  It wasn’t without chaos, but still, the Word of God was preached.

I remember that outdoor Sunday night NEWS service 2 weeks ago.  We stood and sang Great is Thy Faithfulness and I’m sure some were shedding tears as we looked at the beautiful, flooded river peacefully flowing by.

Great is thy faithfulness                  

Oh God my Father

There is no shadow of turning with Thee

Thou changest not, thy compassions they fail not

As thou has been thou forever wilt be.

Press on.  Your deliverance draweth nigh!!!