The Egg

I have preached or taught in many churches in many places from Texas to Nigeria, from Oklahoma to Brazil. I have preached to goats and pigs, swatted mosquitoes and sand flies while I taught, and have spoken while toddlers clung to my legs, dogs licked the blisters on my toes and while everyone ran off to see who was arriving in the port below. I've been amazed in each of those situations that God still works and manages to communicate with the hearts of people amid all the distraction.

Sunday morning in Tres Islas Ashéninka community on the Apurucayali River. I thought I was doing OK going through my prepared lesson: a detailed explanation of God's plan of salvation. In the open church building there are no doors to close in order to keep out the dogs or the chickens. No one knew that a certain hen had already "laid" claim to the place. She came in the side door about six feet from where I was standing on the small platform. She came in "full cluck" making herself known to all that she had arrived. It was not readily apparent why she was so determined to get into the corner beneath a stack of unassembled bench parts left there. I gave her a start to get her back out the door and continued my teaching. Mrs. Chicken was not finished. She returned more determined than ever, but with less noise. While someone else was reading a bible verse I decided to take a peek into the corner and there was confirmed my suspicion, she had a clutch of eggs in there on the bare wooden floor.

She eventually won and gained access to her dark corner. Later in the day I wanted to see if she was actually sitting on those eggs since we can always use fresh eggs. I was surprised to see four eggs instead of the three I saw when I originally checked. The lady clucker had deposited another egg while I was speaking. Now in English we have a term that reflects having badly spoken or failed in an effort, so my mind quickly applied it to my situation. In my preaching I had "laid an egg." The chicken was not returning to sit on the eggs so I wondered if the Lord had sent her as a sign, a messenger, to tell me I needed to improve my efforts. 

Now I don't know if God speaks to His people through chickens, probably not, though He certainly could, but if it wasn't a pointed reminder to put forth my best for the Lord, it was at least fun to think about Him trying to get my attention through a noisy hen and her eggs. I'm sure I didn't "lay an egg" in my preaching as there was one man who responded to the gospel invitation. I'm not sure where the chicken is this morning, but her eggs are on the breakfast table. Was that fourth egg a letter of warning to me to do better? Maybe not. But breakfast delivery in remote quarters of the jungle isn't a bad thing!

Turning 50

On October 19, 1960, in West Plains, MO, Darlene Mathis McAnally and Leo Dean McAnally, both Missouri natives, brought into this world a round, bald-headed (but very handsome) baby and named him Marty. On October 19, 2010, Marty (me) celebrated 50 years of life and many years of adventure in the Lord. As often happens the date fell during a time of ministry travels in the jungle. How did I spend my birthday this time? 

We had been in the Ashéninka community of Carachama (Kah-rah-CHAH-mah) for several days teaching God's Word and helping the Christians there to clear the ground around their newly constructed church building. October 19 was the set date to move from Carachama to the community of El Milagro (The Miracle). Before we left Carachama, we joined the believers in a worship service followed by a fellowship meal. Afterward we loaded the boat and pushed off for the short trip to El Milagro. 

Turning 50 I have pondered the question of how much longer I can keep boating, hiking, and carrying to get to jungle communities. I wake up in the night many times and moan with my back pained from sleeping on a thin mat under a mosquito net and I wonder how many more nights I can do that. I have even called out to the Lord to just yank us out and send us to a place where I can forevermore sleep on a thick mattress under a ceiling fan and step from the bed onto a nice soft rug. 

I am becoming more and more dependent on younger people to carry my loads. Many things I no longer attempt because I figure that if I hurt myself I'll be no good to anyone and besides that it's a very long way to medical care. After El Milagro we journeyed to Tres Islas (Three Islands) community where I did attempt to carry the outboard motor up from the river on my shoulders. It's only a 15 HP motor so it weighs only about 80 lbs. and should be no problem. I found my legs to have plenty of strength, but poising it on my shoulder as I marched up the sandy trail toward the hut caused my lower back to strain and I had to pass it off to Quilmer to finish the chore. 

The casual onlooker would never know, perhaps, about these compromises in the amount of physical exertion that I do, but I'm aware. A part of the humiliation is having younger missionaries and Ashéninka friends "look out" for me. But there are some benefits to all this as well, not the least of which is fewer back aches. I'm reminded of my own limitations and my utter dependence on the Lord to do this work. It also reminds me that what is most important in this jungle ministry is not who carries the motor or the firewood, but whether God is glorified in everything we do, be it physical work or spiritual ministry. And for every fruit He gives, to God be all the glory!

Roadblocks

For he will command his angels concerning you to guard you in all your ways;

They will lift you up in their hands, so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.  Psalm 91:11-12

We’ve said it over and again that every day in this calling presents a new adventure. Sometimes it’s an adventure as light as watching a toddler throw a tantrum while waiting three hours with his mother in the bank line. Other days it’s the extraordinary and unexpected.

I (Marty) returned from the USA a couple of weeks ago and team mate Michael Gayheart flew from Pucallpa to meet me in Lima. We were to drive the Gayhearts’ truck, our old Land Cruiser, back to Pucallpa across the mountains. As we were loading the truck Dena called from Pucallpa to urgently tell us that the papers indicated the coca growers’ strike was back on and that they were blocking the highway at Aguaytía on the jungle side of the Andes Mountains. We would not be able to make the trip. Michael had flown to Lima for nothing. We hurried to the airline office and bought tickets to fly to Pucallpa that evening. The truck stayed in Lima.

By mid-week the following week, it was clear that the coca growers’ protest was not going to materialize after all. So with much deliberation we bought tickets to return to Lima on Thursday. Back in Lima we loaded the truck and after a few hours of shopping for some needed items, we headed out toward the mountains. The first day’s travel was uneventful and we arrived midway at the city of Huánuco to stay at the home of some missionary friends of the Gayhearts. Next morning we headed out right on schedule. This day’s travel went pretty normally until we came upon some road construction that left us sitting for two hours, losing precious time to be able to get home before nightfall. Passing this we felt we were on the home-stretch.

Eventually we came to the city of Aguaytía where the coca growers had been protesting. Entering the city we saw many signs of the protest: tree trunks on the roadway, round black stains on the asphalt where tires had been burned, and many rocks strewn here and there. However, there were no protesters so we breathed easier. On the other side of the city as we headed out toward Pucallpa, however, we came to burning tires in the road. We had just passed a policeman sitting in his car by the road so I said to Michael, “We have to go back and ask the policeman if there is danger up ahead, it’s his job to know.” So returning to the policeman I asked him if it was safe to go ahead. He said, “Sure, there’s no problem, you can pass right on through.”

We went around the burning tires and began to see many rocks on the road. People were standing around nearby businesses watching us go by as if wondering why we were attempting it. Soon we came to many trucks jumbled up in a standstill waiting on the road to open: there was an obvious road blockage somewhere so we knew the striking was back on. To the sides there were a number of police or military soldiers in camouflage with semi-automatic rifles that were clearing the bluff above the road-cut. We waited to see what would happen, figuring we would have to go back to Aguaytía to wait it out and have to suffer the shame of having acted too quickly after a major protest.

Then something happened. All the soldiers emerged from the woods and nearby businesses and ran to their trucks. The truck drivers all mounted their vehicles and started their engines. The traffic was about to move. As the line of trucks moved out toward Pucallpa, I pulled our vehicle over to one of the commanders of the soldiers and asked if it was safe to go. He assured us that it was but gave no explanation as to what was really happening. So Michael and I fell into the convoy and proceeded with caution, but glad to be going somewhere.

Shortly we passed a point where there were soldiers in the road pointing their rifles at the bluffs and looking very serious behind their sweaty faces and fatigues. Later the soldiers overtook the trucks again and hurried to the next small town where they stationed themselves to protect the convoy as it moved through. And so it went for some 100 kilometers, from town to town, military protection, the soldiers advancing, and the convoy easing cautiously through. In one town called Huipoca (wee-POK-ah), we came to a stop beneath a bluff from which protesters were throwing rocks. They were pelting some trucks ahead of us so we didn’t know whether to advance, wait or go back. Suddenly the rocks started landing closer to us, hitting the truck right in front of us. I yelled at Michael to move away from the window. As the rocks came close I figured that if they were moving our direction, I’d better advance and get past them, so I floored the accelerator and got the old truck moving as quickly as possible. As we passed this zone, two rocks smashed into our vehicle with loud thuds and we quickly put distance between us and protesters.

Thankful to be past that place, we used our frequent stops to wait on delays in the convoy line to check the top of the truck. No dents. Wow! It was as if the Lord had shielded us. I commented to Michael that surely what we heard was the sound of the rocks hitting the hedge of protection set up by the Lord.  Later closer inspection would show that there was not a scratch on the truck anywhere!

We eventually left the protest zones behind and were free to cruise on home. It was some time before we came into a cell phone zone where we could call home and tell our wives why we were several hours late. Dena and Crystal had been praying fervently for our protection during the entire ordeal.

Reflecting afterward it was readily apparent to us that the Lord had intervened in our situation to get us home safely. Had we not been delayed by construction we would have arrived long before the military escort arrived. Had the policeman not said to go on through, we might have returned to Aguaytía and waited, not knowing what to do next. Had we arrived a little later, we might have proceeded with no police protection, or we might have turned around. We had arrived just at the right time and been given just the right instructions to get into a convoy of commercial trucks with military protection. God is so good and faithful to us at every turn. He is trustworthy in every situation and we know that the prayers of faithful friends back home are a significant part of the equation.

God’s hand ordering our steps:  making major obstacles to be simply daily adventures.
Psalm 37:23 says If the Lord delights in a man’s way, he makes his steps firm.  Psalm 85:13 says Righteousness goes before him and prepares the way for his steps.

Through Simple Eyes

Berta's little half-sister is visiting with us. She's only four. Bernicia has been to our house I think two times before, but only now is she nearly old enough to remember any of it. There are many things she's never seen before because she lives in a hut on a riverbank many miles from any town. All she sees from day to day is the green of the forest and the muddy flow of the river.

The other night we were watching the movie The Blind Side (I highly recommend it) and at three points during the movie Bernicia almost made us forget about the movie as we were more entertained by her!

In the movie the daughter, Collins, appears with her face covered by a mask of bright green cream. Bernicia asked, "What's that?" Dena answered, "It's her food." Bernicia replied in Spanish, "Don't she know how to eat?" Remember this is a four year old who frequently covers her own face with food.

Later at the Thanksgiving table while the family is joining hands to pray, the character Michael opens his eyes and looks around. Bernicia noticed and asked, "Don't he know how to pray?" Ah, Bernicia. Reflecting good training, even at four.

Near the end of the film the football players are tackling and rolling on the grass. Bernicia asked, "Don't it make 'em itch all night?"

Practical questions from simple observations. Cute. Just cute! We should all step back at times and view life with such practical simplicity. Maybe we'd be less stressed.

Small Victories

Raising a teenager one has to learn to celebrate small victories. Living in the third world you can sometimes become a little frustrated with inconveniences from bad conditions or limited goods and services, not to mention attitudes and practices of the general population. It may be even more so living among a population segment that is not your assigned target group.

Among the possible sources of frustration is the challenge of raising a teen and coaching that teen to be self-sufficient in finding means of keeping himself occupied and entertained when there are truly limited things for him to do. Obviously we don’t want our children to fall into sin and to run with the wrong crowd. We’ve been blessed in that the options for becoming involved in undesirable activities have always been very few for Jacob. While he has a strong personality that can at times be challenging, the only rough spots with him have been right within the four walls of our home.

So I think it appropriate to celebrate and be reminded of how good things really are when small victories come my way. American teens can be difficult to please and demand expensive clothing and toys (computers, iPods, TVs, etc.). They can ask for cars, trips, and cash to hit the town. Jacob asks for (almost) none of these, knowing that to ask would really be futile. When I hand him something that pleases him it’s a relief because often his peace is my peace.

Recently I stopped by a small convenience store (our town has about two and only one has anything I would want) and found some canned Dr. Pepper. Now in Peru that is rare and they charge over a $1 per can as it is imported. I bought several as it is Dena’s favorite soda. At the house I handed one to Jacob and his response with a smile was, “Oh, sweet!”

I had scored. I successfully pleased a 17 year old teenager with a can of Dr. Pepper. What was the victory? That in an age where teenagers are not happy unless they are surrounded by technology and fashion I had a teenager pleased with a simple down-home can of Dr. Pepper. “Yeah, it’s sweet!” God is good!

Called and Trusting

This week I was sitting in a meeting of “team strategy leaders”(TSLs); IMB missionaries who are in charge of ministry teams among people groups in Ecuador, Peru, and Chile. There were about ten men meeting with our “cluster strategy leader”(CSL), sharing our lives, our woes, of course our ministry strategies, and at times some venting over changes in the IMB. Every one of these men faces the challenge of finding God’s plan for reaching the respective people group to which he’s been assigned. Some of them labor far from the big city, up in the dizzying heights of the Andes Mountains, or, like us, along the twisting waterways of the central rainforests. All of them have families. All of them have feelings and personal needs. I observed that all of them are passionate about their calling.

I heard men share their efforts and their frustrations and their frequent confusion with some changes in procedures and policies in the organization. Some shared how they are being uprooted and having to move to another part of the field to take on a new group with a new strategy; changes they did not anticipate when they dug in where they are now. My heart went out to those who have had to deal with some hardships I haven’t had to deal with or who were left alone in a high distant country to sort out their call and their pathways with no one nearby to help or give encouragement.

Like I said, these are men passionate about their people groups and passionate about the Lord. They are men whose call is real and clear; they are men who will serve wherever God plants them. They are men who, though they don’t understand all the changes being implemented in the IMB, do understand what it means to submit to authority and accept it as God’s blessing in their lives. Not one of them doubts the sincerity of leadership at higher levels and their trust level is high. While they may not always see around the next turn of the river, they are sure that their leaders have a firm grip on the helm, guided by scripture and prayer. While a few tears were shed, the joy within remains, and the smiles of confidence in our Lord and the fruit HE is bearing shone upon their faces.

I’m glad I serve with such men. I’m glad they are supported and helped and blessed by their loving families. I rejoice that while I may not see those guys but once in a blue moon, I know they are there, living the same calling that I am living. May God pour His gracious strength and wisdom into their lives and fill their nets to overflowing.

Map:  the countries of South America--part of the America's Affinity--the IMB ministry region that includes all the countries of the Americas.

Parrots

I truly love parrots. They are one of the Lord’s most amazing and truly delightful creatures. The jungle is absolutely full of them in many sizes and colors. There are the little ones that are more like parakeets which fly in large groups, almost never seem to rest, and whose mouths operate 24/7 with chirps and chatters that at times (only at times) borders on nuisance.

There are the green amazons which are the great talkers in the South American parrot world and whose voices sometimes sound like people in conversation as they fly overhead. There are the little chirpers mentioned above and the larger macaws that always fly in pairs and squaw incessantly as they pass over.

At Pueblo Libre there is a small flock of medium-sized green parrots that likes to stop by the stand of coconut trees next to the house we usually stay in. They chatter in constant conversation and play on the palm fronds, often hanging upside down. As I sit inside the house I listen to them, fascinated by the variety of sounds they emit, wondering how they can use that noisy voice to imitate human speech.

Then I step outside to get a look at them in all of their bright green splendor. They continue to chatter for a moment, then one or two of them notices me. There’s an escalation in the noise level and suddenly the whole bunch of them rises in flaps and yaks and swirls away from the palms, only to return when their human threat has gone.

How like people they are. People who carry on oblivious to the Lord’s listening ear, who enjoy the free play of worldly life. When the Master steps into view, either through the voice of His servants or the convicting truth of His word, those who desire to hide themselves raise the noise level to shut out the truth, or make haste to run for cover.

The parrots flee in ignorance. People flee from God in foolishness. They flee from the One who wants to bless them and give them more satisfaction than their present life can give. May the Lord help us to do neither, but rather wait on Him to see how He will touch and bless and change our lives for the better.

Ant Food

While in the Ashéninka village of Pueblo Libre I slept for a few nights in our well used Coleman tent that Quilmer and Jonathan had very thoughtfully put up for me while I was en route. They had arrived a week or so before. The tent is built for four people and I was only one person so there was more than ample space for me to fling my belongings about with reckless abandon.
On one of those nights I opened and ate a bag of “Torti Frits” corn ships (one of the local answers to taco flavored Fritos, but which pales in comparison). While studying I laid the bag of remaining crumbs aside and later went to sleep. About 12:40 AM I awakened and kept feeling little sensations of movement on the skin of my arms and my face. I slapped at them and found that I had a few ants on my person.
Turning on my light I found that I had more than a few visitors. In fact my whole pillow was covered with black ants which meant I was lying on my face in the middle of them. My sleeping bag under me was also quite populated and on the floor, streaming to and from my little corn chip bag were many dozens of the critters.
I jumped up and grabbed my repellent and started discouraging them as I also killed as many as I could with toilet paper in my hand. I thought I was managing until I decided to look under my pile of clothing. To my horror I found no less than a thousand of the six-legged beasts congregated for no apparent reason under my pants and underwear (on the tent floor, not on me) and that the whole convention had streamed in from a small hole in the floor. I quickly dispelled the mass of the Hymenopterans (Hymenopterids???) with repellent and they began to organize for a hasty retreat the way they had come in. In minutes the rascals had made their way back to wherever they came from ( at the time I was sure they had come from and returned to the underworld—at least they came from under the house.
I went back to sleep that morning keenly aware of the stragglers who couldn’t find the hole in the floor and who might just like to sink their little jaws into my skin. So much for peaceful sleep in the jungle!
It makes me think about how our enemy, the devil, can set loose his strategies upon us while we “sleep”. We think all is well while the armies of darkness are marching against us. We allow holes to form in our spiritual protection and in they come and are soon scurrying all over us with temptation and sin, and our spiritual condition sinks lower and lower. When finally we awaken we are shocked that so much has gone wrong.
Lord keep us spiritually awake so that we may truly rest in You!