Jed Culbertson

Being on staff at a church, I experience emotions ranging from apathy to frustration when it come to punctuality. It seems that a lot of people are late. It happens on Sunday morning. It happens on Wednesday night. It happens.

I wondered why this was so and why it was so bad. Then I went to Kenya. At each church service on Sunday morning that I attended, I couldn’t help but notice the same problem.

It seems that wherever you are in the world, a lot of people are late.

In my life, I try to respect other people’s time by being on time; and conversely, grant mercy to other that are late in meeting me. In reality, this doesn’t always work as well as I’d like, but it’s what I would aspire to.

There’s an old saying from someone very wise that goes, “On time is when I get there.” Or maybe it was just a bumper sticker. Either way, that seems to be the rationale.

On our first Sunday in Kenya, Dr. Wellington Mutiso, the preacher at Athi River Baptist Church was effusive in his appreciation for our having come. He said that we had heard their “Macedonian Call.”

Not being well versed on Acts 16, I had to look it up to become familiar with what the Macedonian Call was.

Simply, Paul had sought the Lord as to where he could go to preach the Gospel. God had shut several doors, and it seems Paul was a bit impatient. At last, he saw in a vision a Macedonian person who beseeched him to “Come over and help us.” He took it as divine revelation and traveled at once to Philippi, a Macedonian city.

It seems the people of Athi River had called, and were looking for someone to come help them.

I have thought many times whether the money used to transport people to the other side of the world for a week wouldn’t have been better spent on supplies that are needed there. A transoceanic flight is quite the opposite of ‘cheap.’ In some areas, the plane ticket’s price could feed a person for years.

I was struck, then, when Dr. Mutiso acknowledge that “we do recognize that it is very costly to come from North America into Africa. The airfares are greater than going to these other continents. But may the Lord bless you; even for the money that you have spent to come to us at such a time as this.”

That put it into perspective for me; that presence is as important as presents.

Sarah and I support a young girl named Nancy, who lives in Kenya, though it is many kilometers from where we are staying here. I did not seriously consider trying to find a time to visit her while I was so relatively close. Now I regret that decision; and should I be blessed to come here again, I won’t make that mistake.

On my first day in Athi River, I left my cell phone in my hotel room. I had turned off the wireless on it, and you’d be amazed at the battery life. I haven’t charged it in four days, and the charge is only half gone. We’re using it in the room for an alarm.

So, I was standing outside of the church and I thought I heard it ringing. As I mentioned in a previous post, I’ve had the same ringer for over a year now and am psychologically tuned to it. Every now and then I will hear my phone ring even when it doesn’t. At least once per day, I will reach down and look at my phone, certain it had sounded, only to see a dark ring.

It has not happened since that first day and I wonder if I am being weaned off that supposed lifeline.

In America, the sound and substance is deafening. Here in Africa, people will stop and sit by the road and just think. No earphones hanging down. No Blackberry at the ready. No rush to get home for 24, coupled with the comfort of knowing that if they make it home late, it will be waiting on their DVR.

Even without my cell phone here, I am still plugged in, needless to say as you are reading this as I am still in Africa.

I recently read an article that parallels these thoughts at Credenda Agenda.

Sometimes we drown out silence because we truly enjoy things that benefit us, but other times, we distract ourselves simply out of habit. It has become a drug for us that has side effects that I believe phanton rings are among the least adverse.

In the United States, it is unusual to encounter a small area where a Home Depot and Lowe’s are across the street from each other. Could you imagine them behind side by side?

I was surprised when, on the way to Athi River First Baptist Church, I saw not two, but seven or eight distinct hardware stores lined up in the same strip building.

While driving past, a few team members from the former trip informed me that we had frequented the one on the end: Hallelujah Hardware.

Here in Kenya, apparently it is not unusual to see scenarios where competition must be a drain on a store’s bottom line. I also saw this with furniture shops. I suppose there are furniture districts and hardware districts.

I do wonder at what point businessmen in America decided it would be a good idea to pay attention to the concept of market saturation. Possibly as they slowly went out of business. Perhaps in Kenya these firms do not go out of business because there are no other businesses to go into.

Another tale of our way to Athi River on Sunday starts thusly:

Our driver leans over to Kerry, sitting the front seat. He leans from right to left, which I am wholly unfamiliar with. Since Kerry had been on the Kenya trip in 2007, it must have been assumed that she knew her way around, which would have been good, because our driver didn’t.

Here we were, a small band of five white Americans on our way to somewhere without direction. The driver stopped at a service station and asked an attendant the way, and the attendant gave it quickly and we were off.

It is a bit unnerving, though, when your one connection to an unknown country is himself unaware of the specifics.

That’s when you realize your faith must be not on a driver, but on One who made the driver.