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CCF Missions - South Africa

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a gate and a fence

10/30/2017

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"I like to come to Berakah because there is a gate and a fence."
Recently Chandra interviewed some of Berakah's children with the question, "What do you like about coming to Berakah?"
There were outtakes, shy grins, and giggles. One little girl said she likes to come because there are white people. Several said they like the playground, games, or activities. One child said she liked ma'am because she is ma'am. We compiled some of the responses into a video on our Facebook page.
Woven into the steady stream of irresistible cuteness, childlike simplicity, and kids-say-the-darnedest-things humor were striking insights into the felt needs of these children and their community. One little boy said he likes to read and write. The most poignant statement, however, was the little girl who simply said, "I like to come to Berakah because there is a gate and a fence."
Even at their very tender age, Berakah's children understand the daily threat to their safety and innocence lurking in the streets of a damaged culture where "hurting people hurt people" with alarming regularity.
We posted the kids' video on our Facebook page. Our friend Meleney, who leads an amazing community upliftment center about 5 miles from Berakah, commented that teenagers "just want to walk from home to school and back without being raped and molested."
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I'm reminded of an old Fred Hammond song, "Jesus Be a Fence Around Me". While serving Him doesn't necessarily bring with it a guarantee of physical safety, He does "put a fence" around our hearts and minds, guarding us from predatory fears, prejudices, and other wicked thought patterns.
​As we thank the Lord for His protection around our lives today, won't you join us in asking Him to guard the children of Mamelodi?
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Blessing

10/21/2017

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a poem by Dan Erickson

Our friend and fellow missionary Dan Erickson wrote this poem for a missions conference early in 2017 and read it at Hatfield's missions conference this afternoon. We are sharing it with his permission.

Blessing

We are goofy, unstylish, odd. 
Most of us.
We drive the worst cars 
if we have cars. 
We wear what fits, 
we fit in, eventually, 
      almost. 
We eat what is put in front of us, 
      and find we relish it.
We speak with accents and stutters. 
Sometimes we are not understood 
even in the places we were born.
We are the weird redheaded cousins 
to our families, the black sheep, 
some of us, others the glowing saints, 
      sometimes on the same day. 
They think we’re clumsy, muddy, 
tainted, pure, scrubbed, antiseptic.
We are placed on pedestals 
or in the jumble closet, 
depending on the mood and fashion.
But when there is an explosion 
we run into the smoke 
we run towards screaming 
while others run away.
We compare scars sometimes 
matching stab wounds in our backs, 
some of us. Burns, scrapes, blisters, 
bruises in all the same places.
We have beautiful feet though. 
That’s what the old prophet said.
People who bring good news 
have lovely feet.
So I bless your feet in Jesus Name. 
      Every calloused toe, 
      you explorers, you pioneers, you aliens, 
      travelers with only one true home, 
I bless your feet.
I bless your hands in Jesus Name. 
      Your fingertips feel for the pulses 
      of your worlds, finding, God willing, 
      heads to touch, hands to squeeze, 
      brothers and sisters to embrace. 
I bless your hands.
I bless your lips in Jesus Name. 
      You speak life, peace, healing. 
      Fear is afraid of your voices 
      because they are full of the Gospel, 
      full of love. 
I bless your lips.
​I bless your hearts in Jesus Name. 
      They are overgrown, overflowing, 
      they hurt for foreigners, refugees, 
      children, for the least stylish, 
      the least influential, 
      the least. 
I bless your hearts.
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Is it (really) for me?

10/18/2017

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Last Sunday a beautiful multi-racial congregation were worshiping together in Pretoria, South Africa, when the worship pastor stood to facilitate communion.
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Joining the congregation that day were about 50 children from Berakah Education Foundation in Mamelodi, and a few of the parents (see video and photos below).  Everyone in attendance was invited to partake in communion.  But I wasn’t sure if the parents or staff from Berakah understood what was happening (possible cultural and linguistic barriers).  As I explained to them how Jesus paid the price to take our punishment for our sins and how communion helped us to remember this act of love, one of the parents asked an unexpected question.

"Is this free?"

I was taken aback.  I couldn’t fathom someone thinking that she had to pay for the communion elements.  But then I became disturbed by the trap of false religion that held this beautiful woman back from experiencing the depths of the grace of God – His unmerited favor, unearned and undeserved love.
​The question and the look on her face said, "Is this really for me?"
​My immediate answer to the asked and unasked questions was a resounding, "Yes! His finished work is for all of us! Yes! You are qualified! Yes, He has paid it all!  Yes, it is free!"

​The bigger question

Does everyone know? How could it be possible that someone can attend church over and over and not know that Jesus paid it all--that it cost Him everything and us nothing, that we can neither pay for it nor earn it, and so He has given it to us freely? Oh, what a Savior! I wonder how many people are in our own circles of friendship, sitting right beside us, not knowing. Trapped by false religion--whether it's Western performance or Eastern mysticism or African traditionalism--into trying to earn something that is already paid for and given. Free.
Do we live like it ourselves? Do we affirm with our heads what Jesus did on the cross, but live as though we have to earn it? Do we share what He's freely given with those around us?
Is it really for me? Is it really for everyone around me?
Yes!
​Yes, it is!

Berakah kids visit Hatfield Christian Church, sing on stage

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Touching Hearts and Hands in Mozambique

10/18/2017

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Maputo is a city of contrasts. Opulent shopping centers stand sometimes just a block away from decrepit colonial structures, abandoned since the decade-long war for independence that ended in 1974. Tenements rise ten and fifteen stories, often atop upscale or middle-class ground-floor shops.
Poverty and affluence coexist: not in separate zones, but haphazardly heaped together in a beautiful, jumbled urban sprawl along Mozambique's southern Indian Ocean coastline.
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It's crowded spiritually, too. Churches work in a space increasingly encroached upon by Islam and various traditional religions. The Muslims are aggressively proselytizing and taking over business interests, while traditional belief systems remain entrenched and undetected.
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Pastor Henrique Sitoi is a former political activist. During an eight-year prison sentence following the war, Henrique found Christ by reading Gideon Bibles. His fellow inmates started calling him "Pastor" as more and more of them came to Christ. After his sentence, Henrique studied theology in Johannesburg before returning to Maputo with a heart for Mozambique.
It is with Pastor Henrique's network of churches that we minister in Mozambique. He led most of the pastors and leaders to Christ as children in a dual-purpose English class he started. They learned English, and they found Christ. The pastors and their wives were on the edge of their seats the entire week, taking notes, leaning forward, standing up for prayer.
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Many of them had never heard that God is first a Father, who wants what's best for them. They were relating to Him as a King or Judge. There was an incredible tenderness as the Father ministered His love to these leaders, whom He sees not as workers or servants but as His children.
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There was also practical ministry. They learned the basics of how to maintain and balance finances for the church, in the interest of good stewardship and accountability. They learned that churches should compensate vocational pastors: many pastors have been working full-time in their churches with no salary at all! The earnest in their faces was precious as they realized that one leader had served them for twenty years, without ever receiving a cent.
Couples were ministered to, and some leaders were counseled one-on-one.
It was a fast-paced and beautiful week. Our friends Waldir and Deomilia da Silva, Portuguese-speaking pastors from Pretoria and long-time friends of Pastor Henrique, led the week and facilitated the counseling times. I'm so grateful to have been a part of it: ministering on the Father-heart of God and doing some much-needed computer repair for Pastor Henrique.
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We plan to continue training the pastors and leaders in Maputo with one or two more visits in 2018. I am already looking forward!
​As missionaries to Southern Africa, our sending team makes everything we get to do possible. We are so very grateful. Thank you to everyone who continues to make this incredible journey possible.

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Ps Henrique's church, from the street
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Inside Ps Henrique's church

Ps Henrique "went live" with me from outside his home in Maputo!
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