Kenya Update II.3: Doing Something Beautiful for Jesus

[Denise Poon]

My dearest friends and family,

 

Hello and I hope you all are doing incredibly swell. First off, I want to thank you all for your prayers and support. Second, thank you all for bearing with my decision to forgo using the Internet for the past three weeks--I know I made it without taking into consideration the people back home who have been worried for the past few weeks (...or maybe you weren't), so thank you for indulging me (not like you had much choice in the matter, anyway) in one small thing I wanted to do for God. It has been a very difficult three weeks, and there have been times when I have wanted to write home so badly (and often times I would be literally a foot away from my ministry partner, who was on our host dad's laptop, using the FOCUS Centre's wi-fi), but I am so overwhelmed to see all of your emails and to read your prayers (after these three weeks have come and gone) and know how I have been strengthened by you all, through the Lord, for the past three weeks.

 

On the plus side, though, you have all had a long break from my long emails so I hope you all are ready for some more.

 

I cannot sum up Huruma and its lessons for you in an email--I might crash the network in this little cyber cafe if I tried to send one that long--but I will tell you a little--because, really, all I did was a little in the grand scheme of God's work. At the Missionaries of Charity Orphanage (founded by Mother Teresa) in Huruma, God broke me down to make me in greater likeness of His own self--which sounds great and all, except I wasn't being remade into the image of an all-knowing, all-powerful God. He was remaking me into the image of a suffering Christ. I have spent the past few weeks taking matatus (Kenyan bus-shuttle-things) to and from the Huruma slums, breathing in the pollution of urban Kenya. I have spent the past few weeks walking through the slums, walking past the same dilapidated homes that the urban poor dwell in. I have spent the past few weeks folding the laundry for the women in the mental disabilities ward, getting thrown up on by sick babies, cutting myself while trying to cut fruit the Kenyan way for disabled children's lunches, and much, much more. Mostly, I felt--and still feel--burdened for myself and the people I was serving. Last year in Sigowet I experienced freedom and healing, being able to walk through the country and feel God's Spirit soar with mine. These past few weeks I couldn't walk freely--there were times I didn't feel safe walking through the slums, or times I was weary from hearing people yell or mock me for being Chinese (or Korean or Japanese, as they thought I was. I had a drunk man follow us out of Huruma one day, accosting me the whole time because he was quite taken by my being "Japanese"). I felt frustrated with God for taking away my ability to walk with freedom to go wherever I wanted and freedom from any fears.In all of it, God was asking me to identify with the least of society, and to lower myself, like Jesus did in coming to dwell in this broken world of ours. He was asking me to lay down my rights for the sake of knowing Him.

 

There was one day we were on our way into the orphanage, and some people were passing, coming the opposite way, on the side of the muddy road. I automatically moved aside to let them pass--off the wooden slats that were used as a makeshift bridge over the sewage--and my foot sunk up past my ankles into the sewage. My other foot followed soon after in an unconscious effort to maintain my balance and suddenly I found myself with ankles, feet, and some leg, covered in slum sludge. In that moment, I saw that God wasn't just sending me to Huruma, but I was in Huruma--in the dirtiness and awfulness of it all, standing in God only knows what (hope you're not freaking out too much right now, Mom). God was asking me how far I was willing to go to be incarnational, to die to myself. When I made my way back into the Special Ward, the mamas (the Kenyan women who worked there and helped the Sisters) took one look at me and asked what had happened. When I explained, they took my muddy shoes and washed them cleaner than they had been before, and brought a bucket of water and soap and helped me scrub off my legs (which definitely hadn't been shaved in a while, I was embarrassed). They were so good-hearted and I felt God's hands through theirs and I realized that for those who suffer in His name, there is much care and provision.

 

Before I go on, I should now mention a little girl named Grace, who lives in the disabled children's ward (also known as the Special Ward). Grace has the most shining eyes I have ever seen. Grace also has trouble walking, and I spent a lot of time leading her by the hands, trying to strengthen her legs with her. One day I realized that, like Grace, God was teaching me how to walk anew. I saw myself--literally--reflected in the eyes of Grace and the other children in the special ward, with their broken, twisted bodies. I thought--this is how I am. This is what Jesus sees. I am so broken and deformed by own sin and depravity--I cannot even function without Him. God was showing me all of the ways that I, like the children in the Special Ward, need help with my "ADL"--my Activities for Daily Living. I don't even know how to live properly, at least, not without Him.

 

I'm not sure what else to say. The team all reunited yesterday and will continue our ministry for the next few weeks. I feel so happy to be back together with everyone and am excited for the work we'll be doing. Mother Teresa (one of my new heroes...yes, I'm jumping on the Mother Teresa bandwagon) often said to do something beautiful for Jesus and I hope that at the end of the day, at the end of these three weeks, at the end of my time here this summer in Kenya, at the end of my life (yeah I know...big time jump there)--that God will be able to say that I have done a beautiful thing unto Him.

 

For now, please pray:

 

1. The team--unity and community and that everyone stays in the present. Many of the students are having trouble transitioning back into the whole team, or are dwelling too much on going home. Focus as we go to prisons, do Hindu temple and Muslim mosque walks, etc. etc.

2. Continued good health.

3. Peace in my own heart as I wrestle with God over the brokeneness I saw all around myself in the slums and the orphanage, and in my own self.

 

Thank you all again for your prayers and encouragement. I cannot say how much I have been blessed. I have been keeping you in my own prayers and pray that God continues to keep all of our souls.

 

Shalom,

Denise

 

P.S. I will do my best to reply to all of your emails but sorry if I don't!

 

--
Denise Poon
University of California, Berkeley
B.A. English and Media Studies, May 2012
626-320-2182
denis...@berkeley.edu