CHANG'AA ANYONE?

After we finished our classroom visits at Mathare, we were invited to join the group of men who had gathered for the leadership training back at the church. The sessions had just finished and our friends wanted to share a meal they had prepared for us. We settled into our seats in the audience and listened as Bishop Daniel spoke of his appreciation for our developing friendships and the partnership between Hope Church and OCC. Then he asked each of the leaders present to introduce themselves.

I leaned forward in my seat ready to learn more about these pastors and leaders called to work here in the valley. As each man stood before the group, he acknowledged God’s goodness and praised him—“God is good…all the time…All the time…God is good. My name is Kennedy and I am saved. Praise, God!” These men spoke of once being alcoholics, gamblers, and thugs and how their lives had been transformed by Christ. I internalized these stories and compared them to my own journey down that road with alcohol, affairs and one-night stands. Silently, I thanked God for the second…and third…and fourth…chances he provides. And I marveled over how God uses the very ones he pulls from these dark depths to fulfill his work here on earth. There was comfort in hearing these remarkable stories. At least until John stood before the group.

“Praise, God. My name is John and I am saved.” The strong angles that formed John’s face caught my attention and it almost frightened me. The John I had met on Sunday was kind and endearing with a sheepish smile and almost boyish charm. Yet, my guard went up as he began his testimony.

“I grew up in Mathare Valley. I learned to brew the changaa which is an illegal alcoholic beverage. I was a drug addict, a thief and a criminal. I worked on the inside of the valley mugging people and raping women. My men and I would even gang rape women…”

I winced at this confession and my thoughts trailed off. I saw the hardened criminal John instead of the transformed man who I had met two days before. Suddenly, I felt the wounds from my childhood surface as I remembered my uncle entering my room at night…the feelings of being violated washed over me. Sitting paralyzed in the chair, staring at John’s face and trying to focus on his words, I held my breath waiting for the feeling of disgust to pass...and silently prayed God would let me hear John’s words.

God whispered to me, “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation.” I wanted to argue with Him. But, I couldn’t. Instead, I released my breath and focused my attention on John’s words again…

“But, I am a new creation thanks to Pastor Daniel’s feeding program in the valley. I heard about Jesus and he has saved me. Praise, God.”

How ironic John had repeated the very verse that God had given me in that moment. I shook off the feelings and thanked God once again for second chances and allowing me to see the people for who they are today and not what they once were.

Our afternoon finished out with a delicious meal they had prepared for us. After saying our good-byes, we boarded the bus and headed back to Brackenhurst. Thinking back to John’s testimony, I pulled my Bible from my backpack and looked up the verse God had given me:

“Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has passed away; behold, the new has come.” (2 Corinthians 5:17).

Jotting this verse in my journal, I filed it away as I acknowledge the number of “do overs” I’ve experienced in my own life and the transformation he had brought about in me. I thanked him. But, God wasn’t finished with me and this experience yet. It would be a night I would carry with me the rest of the trip.

My heart raced and I felt disoriented in the pitch-dark room. I burrowed under the covers for a moment until my body woke enough to realize I was safe in my cottage room. Peaking out from the covers, I scanned the bedside table for the tiny light illuminating from my cell phone. I snatched it from the table and pressed the button to reveal it was 3:00 a.m. I sat up in my bed and the dream flooded my memory…

…Dusk was setting in and I was lost in Mathare Valley. I stood in front of a rusted shanty wondering which direction to head and suddenly I spied the bridge. Knowing once I got across the bridge I could find my way out, I pointed myself in that direction and started walking. The sun was setting quickly so I picked up my pace. It wasn’t long before I reached the bridge and I breathed a sigh of relief.

As I placed my foot on the first step leading up to the bridge, I noticed the changaa brewers watching me from the riverside below. Quickly I diverted my attention to crossing the bridge when I felt their presence behind me. I broke into a sprint and felt them getting closer as I continued to run. Just as my body reached the exit from Mathare Valley, I tripped and fell to the ground. I feared for my life as I turned to look straight into the face of the criminal….it was John…

My body jerked and I woke to a pitch-dark room. After checking the time, I repositioned myself on the pillow and made an attempt at sleep again. But, instead, I tossed and turned my way to 6:00 a.m. with no rest to be found. It was going to be a long Wednesday.