CONGOLESE KITENGE SHIRT SUNDAYS

Eastern Congo troubles my sleep.   I check the latest news each morning.   I pray about it continually.

                I’ve taken a vow.   I will wear a kitenge (East Africa) shirt each Sunday and pray for Congo until the consensus of my Congolese friends tells me they believe enduring peace has come to Congo.   On the day I break my vow I will wear my tuxedo to church on Sunday.    I will not ask you to join me with the tux.   However, I ask for my community to join me on Congolese Kitenge Shirt Sundays.

                Let me tell a few African stories.

                My wife, Jana was baptized in 1979 in a shallow muddy river in western Kenya near the equator.   We really don’t know exactly who was at the event.    However, throughout our adult years in East Africa we’ve met Kenyan church leader after church leader who has told us, “We baptized Jana.”    Jana’s parents, Gaston and Jan Tarbet are what many consider to be “historical missionaries” in the lore of Churches of Christ and Christian Church missions in East Africa.    Beyond what God mysteriously did in that shallow muddy Kenyan river in Jana’s life, God did something magical in the lives of the young men gathered around Jana’s family that day.    They saw themselves as bound in a covenant community.

                My daughter, Sophia was baptized at the Kampala Church of Christ in 2004.   In the photo you will notice me in my Uganda preaching uniform – short sleeve colored dress shirt, tie, short hair, and tight beard.    I learned that if I wanted to be taken serious I needed to dress well and be well groomed.    In the background you will notice two of my friends; Vital Byabushi in a kitenge shirt (a Congolese refugee), and Fred Senkumba.

                During the years of 2000 to 2004 while I pastored the Kampala Church of Christ there were many Congolese refugees.    Most were educated professionals who fled Eastern Congo due to insecurity and instability.    I found them to be dear friends and colleagues.    I greatly enjoyed their music and laughter.    They slowly nurtured my beginning understanding of Congo.    We even once hosted a meeting where we gathered Congolese church leaders and missionaries who were scattered all over Africa.

                As my family left Uganda to move to Rwanda the Congolese refugees at the Kampala Church of Christ blessed me with the gift of a purple kitenge shirt.

                As we moved to Rwanda and we launched Christ’s Church in Rwanda I decided it was time for a makeover.   I was too old to be bound by a tie.    I was too African.  I embraced my mentors’ and friends’ dress.   I began preaching in kitenge shirts.   They became my Rwandan preaching uniform.

                You will notice that in photos in which three of my other children (Caleb, Ethan, and Ruth) are baptized in Rwanda I am wearing a kitenge shirt.   This is the blessing the Congolese gave my family.   We are bound in a community covenant of compassion.   We are African in heart.  Yet we are constrained by temporary documents and skin colors.  We wait for our final destination in heaven.   The kitenge shirt my Congolese refugee friends blessed me with in our Uganda departure became my Rwanda identity. 

                I cannot find any photos of myself in Rwanda in April.   Maybe it is because I have rarely been able to take a photo with a smile in April when Rwanda remembers the atrocious Genocide of 1994.    However, if one is found you will notice that I always wore a purple kitenge shirt to church on Sundays in April.   Purple in Rwanda is the color of mourning.   I believe in blessing me with purple kitenge shirt as our family moved to Rwanda my Congolese friends nurtured old African values of community and compassion.

                Now I choose in a vow before the Lord that I will wear a kitenge shirt each Sunday as mark of my compassion for my Congolese community.

                I ask that you join me in Congolese Kitenge Sundays.

                I do not know the future of Eastern Congo.   I know there are many opinions about what is needed to bring peace.    I do believe the best answers for peace will be found in our faith tradition.   Please join my prayer for Congo:

                “King of Kings.   Lord of Lords.   God of All Creation.   Alpha.   Omega.    

                You are the author of justice, grace, truth, and peace.    We ask for your kingdom to reign in Its fullness in Congo.    May you bring forth enduring peace.   May justice roll like a river.

                See the cries of your suffering people in Congo.   Have mercy in Congo upon the most vulnerable.

                Institute enduring peace.   Forgive our sins.   Teach us to forgive one another.

                In the name of your powerful son, Jesus.

                Amen.”

Rumors of Rwanda as heaven

I once lived in Kampala, the city of seven daily rumors. During a season without a free press Radio Katwe ruled the air. Then a free press developed. Bit by bit the media put rumors to the test. Some passed the test of truth. Some did not. Some played to prejudice and survived even when evidence proved the rumor false. A few times I was a victim of a vicious rumor. They can be destructive. Yet, I found a certain comfort in the rumors. I may not know what was true. However, at least I knew the options.

When I moved to Kigali I came prepared with a list of Rwanda rumors. What was true? In fact, my first weeks in Rwanda felt odd when I did not hear the day’s rumor. However, bit by bit I got to know people. In Kigali we don’t speak in the vernacular of Radio Katwe, but we do tend to know details of our neighbor’s lives. Weddings, births, sickness, death, school accomplishments, jobs, business deals, etc. are our topics of conversation. Sometimes it is shocking what the neighbors know.

Two years ago I almost found Radio Katwe in Kigali. We were preparing to send our kids to school. We spent the day shopping for school supplies. When we reached home we unpacked the supplies. In the process, we noticed we were missing a few items we had purchased. I thought maybe my absentminded professor ways had forgot the items somewhere. Possibly, an opportunistic thief got the best of me. Two days later I received a phone call from a friend in the Rwanda government. The lost items had been found. Yet, I had not reported the loss. My friend in government did not know what I was thinking, but the Radio Katwe rumors of Rwanda ran through my mind.

Was I under constant surveillance? Were all my actions recorded somewhere? Was there someone above watching out for me? When I stumbled would another come to my rescue? Or if I made a colossal error of judgment would my failings become public fodder even with my best attempts at cover up? After all, the admirers of Rwanda are aware of Rwanda’s ability to discreetly gather knowledge.

Radio Katwe told me these rumors were true.

Then my friend in government told me how the lost items had been discovered. I had been with him through his wedding. We had visited family together. In the process we had been seen by many in crowds. One of his neighbors worked in the shop where in a little confusion I had left some items. The neighbor did not know my name or contacts. However, he knew the contacts of my friend. He made a phone call to my friend. Then my friend called me. A few days later the lost items were returned.

Maybe, Radio Katwe does not know Kigali as well as she thinks she does. Maybe, Radio Katwe has underestimated Kigali’s ability to live in community? Maybe, Kigali is just a small town? Maybe, the reason some of us discover small details becoming public knowledge is that in Kigali neighbors know neighbors?

However, what if another rumor is true? What if Rwanda is heaven on earth?

Sometimes I hear the voices who listen to the rumors of Radio Katwe say, “I have nothing to hide.”

Really? I wish I was as good of a person as you. I’ve done many things I regret.

Sometimes I hear the voices who listen to Radio Katwe say, “I can take care of myself.”

Really, I sometimes can barely function.

Sometimes I hear the voices who listen to Radio Katwe say, “I’ll take my chances.”

Really, I want to know there is a plan led by a master.

 Radio Katwe Rwanda rumors remind me of heaven. I have never been there, but I’ve heard rumors. The rumors of heaven tell me that every thought and deed of mine is seen. They tell me that all my actions will be taken into account. They tell me that the standard of performance is so high I will never pass. The rumors of heaven terrify me. I would rather keep some matters hidden.

The rumors of heaven tell me that a day will come when all my failings will be exposed. Yikes. I am a respected pastor, husband, and father. That will be an awful day of embarrassment. All my dignity will be lost. Yet, the rumors of heaven tell me that One will stand in my place. The rumors say He is perfect. However, He will accept responsibility for all my failings. In the process I will meet all the performance expectations simply by showing up.

Wow. Yet the rumors of heaven have an earthy substance. Before that day comes the One who watches me will guide my path. He will put me in places where I can succeed. At times life will be painful, but He will bring good from it. When I am sick, exhausted, and worn out; He will restore me.

Radio Katwe rumors of Rwanda, or rumors of heaven?

I doubt the rumors of Radio Katwe, but I believe the rumors of heaven. Yet whatever is true, Rwanda may the closest place on earth to heaven. In Rwanda neighbors know neighbors. We speak of their successes and struggles. We celebrate each other’s victories. We rally to each one’s struggles. I choose to believe the rumors of heaven and the rumors of Rwanda as heaven on earth.

THE STORY OF TIMOTHY'S MOST RECENT BIRTH

On September 29, 2002 the world was graced by the birth of my youngest son, Timothy David Sanyu Jenkins. His birth was one of human tragedy as for a few brief weeks he had no family. Then by God’s sovereign grace Timothy made his way from Sanyu Babies home to become a full child with all rights and responsibilities of the Jenkins family. Within days after entering our family Timothy displayed his intense strength of both will and likability. While other babies cooed, Timothy growled. He would roar as a young lion. The world would always know when Timothy Jenkins was near. A few months after Timothy came to our home we noticed his struggle to move his right arm and leg. He was diagnosed with a minor case of cerebral palsy. We pondered the future. Timothy responded with his strong will. We may be an active family, but Timothy made us strong. He crawled, walked, and then ran. Rwanda may be the best place in the world for a family graced by Timothy for each day we live out the words of President Kagame, “Others may walk, we must run.” In Timothy’s family running is the only option.

Our family comes from a religious tradition that practices believer’s baptism. (For the sake of this blog I’ll skip lengthy bible commentaries and theological discussions and just tell our journey.) In our tradition baptism is practiced by immersion for those old enough to conceptualize faith in Jesus of Nazareth. Socially, baptism signifies inclusion into God’s family. With inclusion comes the practical membership at a local church and a shared weekly meal called Holy Communion or The Lord’s Supper. This sacred meal is a time when our church family remembers Jesus’ death and resurrection. In this process we are reminded of both the community we share with Jesus himself and Jesus followers around the world.

A perpetually awkward moment of our tradition is that we ask for each baptism candidate to come to his own faith before considering baptism. However, how old or much understanding is required to participate in our sacred ritual of immersion? Is it just the simple children’s Sunday School answer of “Jesus” or does a baptism subject need to be able to explain complex theological topics such as grace, the Holy Spirit, the Kingdom of God, and “The Church?” If there is not some proper understanding of belief our community risks heresy in each new generation of faith discovery.

Another portion our awkwardness is our revival tradition. We believe in repentance and discovery. We must continually weigh our thoughts, actions, and character against the holiness of God. In this process we continue to discover more grace. This causes us to celebrate and change. We hope this revival process will over time with the regeneration brought on by the Holy Spirit make us Jesus’ representative on earth. We believe revival takes place both in our personal lives and in the lives of our community.

With each of our new discoveries of grace and renewal a temptation is to look at our old ways and consider them “not Christian.” At times our revival tradition makes us not honor God’s work in either our past live or our community’s. It can lead to legalistic elitism. Some who experience this will look upon their early baptism and consider it not worthy of our Christian ideals. Some will be re-baptized several times in life as they discover more.

A worry of parents in our tradition is twofold. One, we may baptize our children when they are too young. With such a situation they may come to resent our overbearing influence or to conclude their young faith was really no faith. The second struggle is that we may spurn their early requests to be baptized. Thus we crush their tender young seeking hearts.

Two weeks ago, Jana I were given 2 requests by our fast footed son. These were “I want to be baptized and I want a football helmet.”

With both questions we proceeded with caution. After all, we had just been staying with a friend who allowed Timothy to borrow his Texas A and M helmet. The thought of our fast son becoming an Aggie sent a chill down our neck. What if an even worse fate happened - Timothy became a baptized, but unbelieving Aggie?

We began by asking Timothy, “Why do you want to be baptized?” Timothy responded with simple answers. Everyone in his family had been baptized. Those he admired at church had been baptized. He watched others share our church meal of communion and felt excluded. The most startling words he used were “I am all alone.”

Timothy’s strong will is matched by two deep parts of his personality. One is the sense of personal responsibility. The other is a strong sense of community. Timothy at times grieves over the loss of his arm. One of our most difficult moments was his request for “a new arm for Christmas.” Yet, his grief always ends in resolve. He will run fast, throw hard, and shoot true whether the game is basketball or just childhood tussles. Timothy also deeply grieves over his failures. He is a child with a deep conscience who models contriteness and repentance. For brief moments his contrite spirit can reach the point of self-hatred. It is at those moments that he most needs affirming parental love, grace, and forgiveness to re-discover the will to simply do better.

His sense of community is compelling. He has a tremendous capacity to give and receive affection. He needs great amount of human touch. He is rarely alone. When placed with his peers within a short time most will be following his choice of play. He instinctively possesses the traits of great leaders – empathy, understanding, vision, and resolve.

We discussed with Timothy the nature of our faith. We believe that Jesus rose from the dead. We are all sinners (full of flaws and mistakes.) By believing in the truth of Jesus resurrection; He lives in us, forgives us, and molds us into His likeness. Timothy nodded that he understood these truths.

We have a tradition of asking our children to write their reasons to be baptized so that we have permanent record of their thought process. As Timothy did this he asked for our help. He did not know how to spell many of the words he desired to write. Some of the words included “alone, bored, annoying, and tired.” He struggled to explain, but hungered for more. It seemed his struggle was much like our adult world that the Apostle Paul wrote about as we struggle to communicate our deepest needs to God with our insufficient human language (Romans 8:26).

Jana and I took some time to wrestle and discover. An old book came to my mind – J.I. Packer’s, Knowing God. I spent a portion of Thursday, June 26 in a library in Roscoe, Texas and could not find the book. I went to Roscoe’s book store and found I could order it in 2 weeks, but we would be gone. On Friday, we went to Abilene, Texas to host a reception. We stopped at a Christian bookstore and asked only to find that Packer’s book was out of print. Thankfully, we had a little time to check out Abilene Christian University’s library and finally found our old memory. Packer takes a chapter and writes about the nature of being “Sons of God.” He makes several startling statements. One is that not all of humanity are “children of God.” Only those who have been born again have that privilege. The other is that our “adoption” into God’s family is "the highest privilege of the Gospel."

We read Romans 8:23 – “Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the first fruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies.”

We concluded it was the Spirit of God within Timothy that cried out for the completion of his adoption. He had been in our home and raised as our child since he was 2 weeks old. We went through a 3 year process to adopt him in Uganda. We went through several weeks of form filling and interviews in Nairobi for him to immigrate to America. Upon reaching US soil he became a bi-national and after some more hoop jumping carried both an American and Ugandan passport. He was a Ugandan, American, Jenkins; but his sonship was still lacking. Only by being born again of water and spirit could he claim his full privilege as a son of God.

We were traveling and away from our oldest children – Sophia, Caleb, and Ethan. We were away from our home churches of Christ’s Church in Rwanda (Kigali) and Quail Springs Church of Christ (Oklahoma City). However, for a few brief days we were with Jana’s parents, Gaston and Jan Tarbet. Family is not constrained by geography. We decided now was the season.

Gaston called an old friend, Royce Clay and we arranged for Timothy to be baptized at the Colorado City, Texas Church of Christ on Saturday, June 26.

Now is where the video makes it all too real and displays that faith may be its truest in the midst of the humorous.

I spoke briefly to our little community and Timothy about adoption. Then Timothy and I began stepping into the baptistery. I’ve had 20 years of good pastoral fortune related to baptisms. I can’t remember myself ever having a baptism experience that became “a preacher story.” Today was my day. I stepped into the water afraid of cold water and nasty algae, but found the water warm and clean. I took 2 more steps and suddenly realized my fears should have gone to the other extreme. I screamed as the water was beyond hot. I rushed out of the baptistery and grabbed Timothy along the way. It was one of those moments where I wished I had been wiser. (For FB junkies check out the video.) Then I repeated a phrase to those who I thought may argue, “The water is far too hot.”

The thermostat of the baptistery was broken. The water kept heating. We called another church member responsible for the baptistery upkeep. Then we drained and filled the baptistery twice and added 6 bags of ice before the water was cool enough for human contact. About an hour later Timothy and I again descended the waters of baptism. My only thanks to the Lord was for the grace that I was the one who got a little burned instead of Timothy. I am so glad the memory of a water burn is mine and not Timon’s.

I asked Timothy two questions – “Do you believe Jesus rose from the dead? Do you want to make Jesus the boss of your life?” He answered, “Yes.” I gently placed him under water in the name of the Father, Son, and Spirit. Then I brought him up to new life and watched him smile.

Our family shared a meal that evening in celebration. The following Sunday we all shared the meal of Holy Communion.

Evidence of a changed life?

A few days later Jana and I found a football helmet. By the grace of God it was not an Aggies’s helmet. Instead our only options were Oklahoma Sooners or Oklahoma State Cowboys. Timothy chose to be a Sooner. Later, the next day I overheard Timothy discuss with his older sister Ruth, his favorite football player, Adrian Peterson. Timothy is like him in many ways – black skin, fast as can be, and both have Oklahoma roots. Timothy enjoyed comparing himself to Adrian. Then he added one more comment. The most important accomplishments and identifications this side of heaven are neither speed nor ethnic background. They are being part of God’s family. Timothy did not know Adrian’s baptism status, but he chose to define himself not by similar speed, but by the family of God.

Timothy still has his strong will. We’ve done our daily tango a few times. Yesterday, Timothy astounded me. He is learning to swim during our summer travels. He has hit the point of having no desire for floats and an unwavering sense of courage. He is a struggling swimmer, but even as he grasps for air he is not afraid. We need to keep our eyes on him in a pool, but we know courage is the mark of good swimmers. Courage also is a mark of God’s children. Timothy is forever changed.