Apostles Among Us - by Rob Mazza

Friends,

I have always been a person burdened with questions about fathering and mothering. Whether this was from my own growing up experiences or of God’s design I cannot tell nor need to, knowing God works in myriad ways to weave together sometimes incongruent rag tag events of our lives into a cape draped over our shoulders called Design. This is a story about those elemental figures in our lives that shaped our beginning knowledge of God - piecemeal or whole and hearty. It’s also a story about apostles. Paul called himself the least of these. He left big footprints. He fathered on a view of God as mother and father. He became what he saw.

In the 1990’s I was obsessed with a study of church government and a question: What the heck was an apostle? My obsession I learned later was a burden then a prayer. What I had been seeing at that time, where (mostly) poor examples that were dialed into the mold of man and the times we were living in. Man who were capable in the natural sense of influence, wielded a pyramidal, top down ruling style and had no trouble through charisma to declare their position. I was unsettled. The “obsession” landed us with an invite to live in Kenya for a few months and assist some missionaries, although in my religiosity of that time I would have said, in fitting with the grid of men, we were answering “The Call". That trip put a firm digger in my heart that I was going to a developing nation to change them. I may have done something spiritually lasting, put God was weaving gold thread into my loom of reason. I can worship where I see the wise master craftsman at work.

I wrote this story, really a letter, to an eleven year old girl named Maggie. She asked me to recount a missionary story.

Dear Maggie,

Sometimes in life God lets you go to places that are so different from where you grew up. Not just different but SO different, in customs, land, people that you have to pinch yourself and say "I'm like an alien that has landed in a different world". Kenya was like that for Katie and myself in the fall of 1997. The other part of that five months we spent in East Africa, was influenced by a person we met. Festus was a man who was a father, minister and school teacher. He was a guy who was so different than so many people we had known previously. He was one of those “little” people that people don't take a lot of notice of, but God, in secret, smiles over his life and the effect he has on the place in the world that God put him.

This is a simple story. Katie and I were traveling with Jessie and Diane Grey who were long time missionaries living in Eldoret Kenya. We were traveling in an old army green Land Rover to a place "inside" Kericho. "Inside" means that it would be off the paved road once you got to Kericho. That meant Katie and I would be thoroughly bounced around by potholes in the red earth dirt while hanging onto our seats and the back door which occasionally flew open. "The Beast" was our affectionate name for the old achy Land Rover. We were invited to go to the village of our friend Festus. We expected adventure. We were not disappointed.

Festus was a short man with a smile like a rainbow and eyes that looked into you and made you feel like God might be near. We knew a few stories about him. Once he was given a teaching position in a small school with eight class rooms. The schools there are made of brick covered with cement plaster. They have no windows but sometimes have grates that go over them to keep people out but that works only if you have a door too. Some school rooms don't have a door either. The children sit on hard wooden benches made with hand tools in front of a long shared desk. There's a black board in the front that's like smoothed and painted into the plaster. It's basic but the children have a place to learn which is a small but important blessing when many poor countries don't have that.

Festus was made the headmaster of the school. This part is hard to say: the school was not safe for girls when they got to age thirteen or so. Certain male teachers would touch them wrongly. This was a terrible thing for the lives of the girls. Festus being a man of God who took his job as leader of the school seriously, knew what to do. He went to God and prayed that the few men who were doing such things would be removed from the students. Guess what? One by one in a very short time those men were gone. Festus had helped restore peace and safety and God's presence to the school.

We arrived to meet Festus at a new school he was assigned to. He and his wife and little girl lived next to the school. When you arrive to a home in Africa they offer you chai tea which they heat up milk fresh from the cow and steep tea into it. They serve it with sugar. Kenya also grows some of the best tea and sugarcane too. We probably had tea while we sat around and talked about life in African slow time. No one is in a hurry there.

Festus asked us if we would go over to the school and speak to the graduating students about life with Jesus. He brought us over to one of the school rooms (this one had a door). We talked a bit to the 12 students and they stood up for prayer. They wanted to either commit their lives new to the Lord or recommit them. While we prayed with each one, some of them fell to the floor while God met them in a powerful way. It was simple and easy to speak about God in this school because in Kenya you can go to any school and share your faith. We knew too that Festus has been praying for these young men and women.

We spent the night with Festus. In the morning, Festus cooked us pancakes and teased us about how much stuff Americans had to have to travel - big suitcases and backpacks. A Kenyan travels with a small brief case or bag that has just a few clothes to change into. "Frivolous American things" he laughed. Festus was a man at home with God. He was so at home that he could break a tradition that rarely if ever a Kenyan man would cook for guests. This was women's work. The Kenyan wife was almost always in the cook house, tending a smoky wood fire and cooking and serving. She is master of the home and it's working. At meals she would show up and the beginning of the meal to serve and pray for the food and at the end to "release" us or to bless us to leave. The Kenyan wife would not very often eat in the same room. Festus and the group of believers he hung out with we're out to change their world in small ways. Kenyan men would not often hold babies and talk or interact with them until they were older like 3 or 4. Guess what? The men in his group were holding babies in the back of the church when we visited.

The next day or so we we were taken for a long drive into the bush to visit another school. Along the way the district government leader wanted to go with us to see the people of that area. He had never met the people he represented where they lived because they were so far in the bush. I think he thought that hanging out with the white missionary people would make him look pretty good too. Well, after a long bumpy drive again, we reached a primary school in the middle of nowhere. Festus said that some of the kids may have not seen white people before. The classroom was crammed full of about 60 children. They were very curious about these strange and rare visitors as we walked through the no door opening. They sang for us worship songs African style so touching that you could imagine Jesus as black and dancing to their joyful enthusiasm. We talked about about life with Jesus and I think we sang them one of our own songs. We ended our time with shaking lots of hands, some being really shy and others wanting to touch us more. It was a good day.

I think it was another time after this that we walked to a home in this area. On the way a one year old was in tears upon seeing white people for the first time. His father said he was scared. We looked like ghosts or dead people to him.

Festus had shown us much about his area and told us at one time he had hiked the whole area to visit people in the bush to give them a taste of knowing God. I wish I could tell you many more stories I know about Festus. He had a true love for people. When I think of fathers and mothers that God has given his people to learn from I think of this "small" African man that God had done great things through. I smile as I see his big smile and think of the verses from 1Thes. 2:7,8 and 11 of the apostle Paul's heart for people.

"But we were gentle among you, just as a nursing mother cherishes her own children. So, affectionately longing for you, we were well pleased to impart to you not only the good news of God but also our own lives, because you had become dear to us... as you know how we exhorted and comforted, and implored every one of you, as a father does his own children."

Thanks Maggie for letting me share about someone who opened a door in my life to help me see Jesus better. I hope it helps you go through that door (or no door!) of the simple school of knowing God.

Your friend,Rob Mazza

What I didn’t tell my young friend Maggie, was the hidden story of the Craftsman working in the secret shop of my heart. I was in a large church gathering sitting next to Festus on the front row. Jessie Grey was preaching and absolutely saying some sacred cows of religion, among them the posturing in the church and corruption that mirrors the African culture. Fetus was beside himself laughing, whole and hearty. I caught the wave of his Psalm 2:4 place and laughed that clean laugh of the spirit. The Lord spoke to me, 

“He’s one of them.”
“Apostle.”
“Yes.”

I did a quick rewind of his big influence with the company of teachers, pastors and bishops he mingled with. Unrecognized in his function but orbital in his relationships. God graced me with one last thought. Festus gave away his motorcycle to a man who walked and rode public transport to reach the Massai. Things like motorcycles come dear to a man on a thirty dollar a month teacher’s salary.

I’m still laughing. Festus had the biggest smile.

Blessings,
Rob Mazza