Global Church Advancement (GCA)

Monday, June 2, 2008

Bart assembled our team for a planning meeting after breakfast.  Vava, Darcy, and I were going to be handling registration.  Nathan and Gordon (both fluent in French) were going to provide interpretation and translation.  Thomas (another employee of S.U.) was going to take the payments as we registered people.  Daniel was going to make sure they got checked into the right hotel.  Comfort (many Ghanaians have names like Comfort, Prosper, Wonder…) and Mr. Agama were going to make sure the conferees received their name tag.  We had been trained on how to register people using our Internet based registration system.  We were all set; what could possibly go wrong?

I’ll save time by just saying that from the moment we began to register people for the conference, we were solving one problem after another until the last person was registered two days later.  Problems with the Internet, problems with power and voltage differences in our American equipment, problems with our printers, problems with names being misspelled, problems with people wanting to pay in currency we couldn’t exchange… you name it, and it went wrong!  Nevertheless, the Lord led us through the process.  We were able to register those that had come early for a special training session that was to occur before the rest of the conference started.

The people invited were leaders of leaders in their respective nations.  They sat around in a U shaped formation and listened as Steve cast the vision for the training that would ensue the following evening (after another round of registration!).  Many of the African Nationals were French speakers, so everyone wore headphones and communicated through translators.  It was humbling to see people from 15 different African nations praying together, learning together, and preparing together for the conference.  Once again, I heard God’s voice, “Look what I have done here.”

Across language barriers, across cultural barriers, across distance barriers, across political barriers, God had assembled a group of leaders ready to die for the advancement of the Kingdom of God in Africa.  Some of these men left their homes, walked (and ran) thorough the night to catch a bus at 4:00 am, and traveled for 30 hours across Africa without air conditioning in order to be at the conference.  And I had moaned and groaned about my 3 flights, on which I read a book, watched a couple of movies, and even slept with a blanket over me because the AC was turned up so high.  I was taken aback as I heard story after story of how far people had traveled in uncomfortable situations.  But the thing is; they didn’t advertise their suffering.  We found out by asking how they had come.  Some of them showed up a day early because the bus only comes to their town every other day!  From as far as South Africa to as near as the other side of Accra, God brought people together to receive training for the advancement of the Church in Africa; and He gave me the grace to be there to witness it.

I felt like a spectator standing below Michelangelo, watching him paint the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.  Before my eyes, God was painting a picture of unity in diversity.  A sense of excitement washed over me as I thought, “This is for real.  God is really, truly, moving in a mighty way here.”  I want to be a part of it.  I want to make myself available to God to be used in any way, shape, or form that brings Him glory in the advancement of the Kingdom of God on earth.

Jesus prayed, “Thy Kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven.”  The Kingdom of God is truly coming (even now) to earth.  This has never been more real to me.  It has been a part of my doctrine.  It has been an exciting part of my theoretical knowledge.  But now the reality of the coming of the Kingdom of God to earth is as real to me as my own personal existence.  Think I’m nuts?  Come to Africa; watch men from different nations, different denominations, and different traditions standing together, holding hands, and praying for vision and ability.  First the reality sets in; then the burning desire to act.

Sunday, June 1, 2008

There was a knock at my door around 8:00 am on Sunday.  I opened the door and saw Vava, a church planter from Brazil (who lives in America now) standing there.  He said, “Are you Matthew?”  Then he told me that Bart wanted Nathan and me to meet him downstairs for breakfast.  He told me not to worry about what I was wearing and that he would go get Nathan in his room.  I went downstairs in gym shorts, the wrinkled dress shirt that I had worn on the plane, and my sneakers; a fashion statement for sure.  I walked in and saw Bart enjoying a piece of toast and a hot cup of coffee.  Nathan arrived shortly after.  Bart said we’d be visiting a couple churches in Accra that day after breakfast.  I ate some toast with mango jelly on it, Bart let me send a text message to Hana on his phone, and then I went up to get ready for the day. 

We were picked up by Humphrey (an employee of Scripture Union) and driven to the first church we would visit that day.  When we arrived, their worship service had already begun.  We stood near the side, but were then ushered up to the front row (which was uncomfortable for us, but it was culturally important for them to put us in a place of honor).  Shortly after we sat down, an assistant pastor gave a number of announcements in Ewe (pronounced “ay-way” in this native Ghanaian language) followed by the same announcements in English.  They began to worship in song and dance.  As the music played, first the women came up and danced around in a circle (sort of like a conga line); after they finished, the men came up and danced around.  They swung their handkerchiefs around in the air and shouted praises to God.  A choir sang (angelically), the band played, and the worship continued.  Eventually one of the men grabbed the four Presbyterians sitting on the sidelines and brought us onto the dance floor.  We danced around in circles with big fat smiles on our faces.  I fought back the tears that kept attempting to well up in my eyes: tears of joy, tears of “Wow God… Wow,” tears of excitement. 

Later, they called the four of us up front and recognized us and the work we had come to Africa to do.  Steve preached a short (but, three-point!) sermon, and then we sat back down.  The service went on and on (in a good way).  They brought up all the children and anointed them with oil; then the single parents, then the parents of children who do not yet know the Lord.  It was powerful.  In my heart I continually heard God telling me, “Look what I’ve done here.”  A people that once worshiped idols and animals and worthless false gods are now worshiping the one true God in a vibrant and growing church on the outskirts of Ghana’s capital city.  They had been set free, and the weight and texture of their joy was not only tangible, but immense.  I had never seen anything like it.  The profundity of the situation left me forgetting to breathe.  I kept thinking, “Our God is an awesome God, He reigns from heaven above, with wisdom power and love, our God is an awesome God.” After the service Steve prayed a blessing over the church and the choir, and then we visited with the pastor in his office.  From there we got in Jude Hama’s Car (Jude is the president of Scripture Union).  He took us over to another church; one much bigger and fancier.  When we arrived they were performing healings (the minister placed his hands on a woman who violently shook and then fell to the ground).  We sat down near the back, but were once again ushered up to the front row.  They had a choir with a least 80 people in it, singing beautifully.  Steve was invited up to speak briefly about why we were there and what we would be doing the following week.  This service was a lot more like a service you’d experience in the U.S.  However, outside the worship center were two things that revealed to us that this church viewed the Gospel somewhat differently than we do. First, there was a large set of pictures of people that had been healed at the church.  There were pictures of people with diseases, rashes, and all sorts of problems.  Many of the pictures were quite disturbing.  Yet, the display consisted of before and after pictures.  The second thing was the fact that the people at this church were not poor.  Many nice cars lined the outside of the worship center.  Christ may not be being preached the same way at the second church as He was at the first, but He was indeed being preached.  Let me be clear, I believe God heals people today (as He always has) but my heart’s jury is still out on whether or not God continues to give certain people the ability to heal others.  And secondly, I believe that the Gospel is good news for individuals as well as communities and that prosperity (yet, not extreme wealth and over-abundance) is to be expected as Christ ushers in the fullness of the Kingdom of God; yet I do not believe blessing should be expected to come in the form of a BMW for those in a poverty-stricken city.  I suppose we can echo Paul’s notion in Philippians 1:18 in cases such as these.  John Piper has said that it is not the receiving of a new car that portrays God as magnificent, but that when we are in our deepest struggles, our deepest pain and loss, we can shout, “God is enough!”  “That,” Piper says, “makes God look glorious.” From there we drove back to GIMPA, but not before Jude Hama pointed out the two towers of a Mosque that overshadowed the surrounding buildings.  It’s interesting how God provides glimpses of His glory amidst our fears.  As we sat and looked at the Mosque in the distance, a father and his three kids walked passed our car on their way home from church.  Our thoughts were so focused on threat of Islam that we almost didn’t see the glory of God radiating from the smiling faces of the man and his children.  I felt as if God was reminding me to keep my eyes on my King, not on my King’s enemies.  And I realized that I do that a lot.  I stare, in fear, at what I’m up against in life instead of gazing upon the glory of the sovereign, all powerful King who will lead me through everything He leads me to.  “The LORD is my light and my salvation– whom shall I fear? The LORD is the stronghold of my life– of whom shall I be afraid?” (Ps. 27:1).  

Saturday, May 31, 2008

After nearly 24 hours of travel, Nathan and I arrived in Accra, Ghana with all our luggage (!!).  We were tired, but excited.  I remember being nervous waiting in line to go through immigration.  I always think they’ll suspect that I’m up to something and take me in some small room with one light-bulb hanging from the ceiling.  “What are you really doing here, Mr. Ryman?  If that is your real name…”  At that point I would pass out. But, that didn’t happen. 

Everything went quite smoothly and we walked out of the baggage claim area where there was a mob of people standing behind a fence and armed guards pacing back and forth.  Then we saw it, a white piece of paper with our names on it held by a man named Daniel, who works for Scripture Union (a GCA partner organization).  His smile was warm and inviting.  Nathan recognized him from the previous year.  He led us through the crowd over to the parking lot, where a man (that I didn’t know) grabbed tightly onto the handle of my suitcase and said, “I’ll take this for you.”  I said, “No, I’ve got it.”  He tightened his grip and said, “Let go, I’ll carry it.”  I didn’t let go.  So my new “friend” and I walked side by side, both gripping the handle to my suitcase with all of our might.  I didn’t know what to do.  I wondered, “Does this guy work with Daniel?  Does he even know Daniel?  Is this guy trying to steal my suitcase, with me attached?”   Finally, Daniel turned around and noticed that I was a little confused and he told the man to back off.  I later found out that he wanted to carry my bag, so that I would owe him a tip. We got into Daniel’s car (a pick up truck with a big bubble type back, good storage space), and waited for Daniel to go and pay for parking.  We sat there with the windows down, surprised at how hot and humid it was.  Then my old friend from the suitcase-war returned.  He stuck his head in the window and said, “Can you give us a better tip?”  Daniel had given him one Ghana Cedi (about $1 U.S.).  I told him I didn’t have any Cedis (which was true).  Eventually, he left.  He wanted a bigger tip for doing something we didn’t want him to do in the first place.  The gentleman in the next car, with his lip crinkled up to one side and shaking his head, watched me shoo the suitcase man away.  Apparently this was normal.

Daniel eventually returned and we left for GIMPA (the Ghana Institute of Management and Public Administration), where the CPI was going to be held.   We checked into our rooms and went to bed.  I laid there for a long time, partly because the AC unit in my room didn’t work, and partly because I was in Africa.  Africa!    As I was lying there, I realized that in the same way that I wouldn’t let go of my suitcase, my Lord had promised to not let go of me.  Even when the enemy grabs on to me as tightly as he possibly can, hoping to gain something; my mighty King holds tighter, stronger, and without any fatigue.  I was then, as I am now, in good Hands.  I prayed that the Lord would watch over Hana (my wife) back home and that He would prepare me for what was to come.  I had no idea what I was in for.