While I have a break in my transition back to life here, I decided to acquire some skills.

“You know, like nunchuk skills, bow hunting skills, computer hacking skills… Girls only want boyfriends who have great skills.” Napoleon Dynamite

 Almost as random, I’m registered to take culinary arts, carpentry, and conversational Spanish at Griffin Technical College.  And only for those of you who know me well, will these make sense.
 FYI – For those of you who need some serious skills like me, you can go to any Technical College in Georgia (as a resident of GA and with a B –average), and the HOPE Grant will pay for all your tuition along with $100/quarter for books for up to 95 hours in a diploma program.  This is after I already received the HOPE Scholarship for all tuition for my undergraduate degree from the University of Georgia.  Something to think about!

Just for good measure, I managed to get sick again on the Saturday before I was to leave on Tuesday, June 23rd.  I left the JNB airport hoping to spend a few weeks back at L’Abri recovering and processing the year.  However, in the middle of my flight from JNB to Paris, the common cramps/diahrrea turned severe and I also was losing a lot of blood.  The blood scared me, and upon my arrival to Paris “managed” to find the first flight home to Atlanta.  That process of changing flights/going to the airport doctor included entry and exit from security/passport control 3 different times, and for those who have been to CDG, you can join me in my increasing hatred for that place. 
I am in Griffin now…happy to be home and getting well.

…a quality more respected by most than mere optimism or pessimism or some kind of spin. Unsure how to express what this year has been like in a way that is right, I have struggled with honesty in this public forum. But it is necessary, and I write towards that goal as I begin to reflect on the past 10 months of volunteer work in Africa.

Through the help of Google Analytics, I have been overwhelmed with the 1,223 unique visitors to this blog from 41 different countries and 44 different states in the U.S. The support I have received from many of you has been humbling, and I feel that I owe you more honesty than I have given.

I am now 4 days from my departure. Africa has stripped me of 20lbs and a lot of pride. My presuppositions of who God is, how I relate to Him and how I relate to others has been tested to another level. The brokenness I have experienced has me beaten down quite a bit, yet I am fully confident that character is being built and restoration has begun.

But if I go to the east, he is not there;
if I go to the west, I do not find him.
When he is at work in the north, I do not see him;
when he turns to the south, I catch no glimpse of him.
But he knows the way that I take;
when he has tested me, I will come forth as gold.
Job 23:8-10

On the plane ride back to Atlanta, I continued to think about what my goals were for when I returned home. What I wanted most was to not be unchanged. I did not want to return to my comfortable life just as it was before. The Lord stirred something big in me while I was in South Africa, and I want to be obedient to His calling. I am not sure specifically how my life will be different now that I have returned, but I am sure that I will never be the same. I want to apply what I learned about community, hospitality, the Holy Spirit, and the living the Bible in Atlanta. The African and American churches can learn so much from each other, and I am thankful to have experienced both. My first Sunday back at Atlanta Westside we had a guest worship team, and one of the songs we sang was “Alpha and Omega,” a song I had first and only ever heard in South Africa. We also had the kids from Bright Futures, an inner city youth ministry, at church. This experience at church in Atlanta opened my eyes to the potential we have to grow. Each day the Lord is showing me a little bit more how He wants to use my experiences for His glory.

Psalm 86:11-13
“Teach me your way O Lord, and I will walk in Your truth; give me an undivided heart, that I may fear Your name. I will praise You, O Lord my God, with all my heart; I will glorify Your name forever. For great is Your love toward me; You have delivered me from the depths of the grave.”

*Click on photo below to see a video of the lions

From Cheryl's photos

Within the first 10 minutes our night drive, we saw a leopard…up close…one of the most rare things…locals go their whole lives never seeing them. And an hour later…we saw a pack of
lions…4 male lions, that never travel that way…they were laying in
the road; and unless you were driving with a man with a rifle, like we
were…that is a different situation.
And that is when it hit me, when the lion came up and started walking
towards us…my whole body got tense…I was afraid…but unlike ever
before. The lion just locked eyes with me, with us…he just walked
right by us and then circled around our car….all four…one by
one…they circled us. Our driver just sat there and I could barely
look up as they surrounded us…some people were taking pictures…but
I was just riveted. They stayed with us for 30 minutes.
But that was the fear and the Lord, I was tense first and then was
forced to accept that I was 100% at the mercy of the lion…I mean a
million quotes about Aslan rushed through my mind, and it really made
sense why they refer to Jesus as the lion of Judah…there is
something so elegant, graceful, majestic and absolutely frightening
about the lion…as cliche as it sounds…

I didn’t know the fear of the Lord
until I looked a lion in the eyes

…and watch it decide it was not going to pounce on me. It was intense…the knots that came in my
stomach and were released were not like something I had ever felt…it
was close to standing at the edge of a cliff knowing if you slipped it
would be over…but it was not like facing death…it was just facing
helplessness…100% being wrapped in the mercy of something out of
your control.

From Pictures

On the day I left Atlanta, a random Westminster staffer told me, without knowing the nature of my trip, that after being in Africa I would not be able to doubt the existence of God. After 24 hours of experiencing Mamelodi, I am struck by how spiritual their faith is compared to my calculated, rational view of God. Not that one is more “right,” but it is interesting that we experience the same God in different ways as a product of our culture—I am not sure what to do with that. As the people of Mamelodi tell me about healing services, and testify that they were sick, but now they are well, I am instantly skeptical, and I wonder,
“Does faith really heal? Do I believe that?”
“ Do I ‘disacknowledge’ the power of the spiritual realm?”
Historically, African cultures are spiritual. In their tribal groups, diviners and healers (people who communicate with the spiritual realm) held the most esteemed places in their communities. As Pastor Vincent showed us a graveyard filled with graves adorned with items for the dead to use in the afterlife, we saw that many Africans put their faith in the power of their ancestors. To many, relatives that are no longer living still interact with them and have the ability to help or harm them. They spend their lives trapped in the fear of punishment if they do not pay the dead the appropriate respect. Pastor Vincent describes this belief as one of the most deeply rooted threats to the Church.
With the knowledge of Christ, however, this has transformed lives of people in Mamelodi. Their belief in the spiritual realm has also lead to the rapid spread of Christ because the gospel brings a beautiful truth in contrast with the traditional cultural mindset.

From L to R: Jennifer Ginn, Pastor Vincent Nyathi, & Cheryl Case

Our first week in Africa has been amazing, convicting, and powerful.  On Thursday, we went in small groups and delivered food to GoGos (grannies) and others in need.  The last place we visited was President’s home.  (President is his name.)  I say “home” instead of “house” because it was a one room shanty, no bigger than a walk-in closet.  But inside of that tiny place was more Christian joy than I think my heart has ever felt.  First, President read Scripture to us and then spoke about the importance of prayer.  His smile was so big and his joy was so complete that it was contagious.  At the end, we sang an African praise song.  We had only 11-12 people, but the sound of our combined voices was so rich and full.  Although he and his wife have so very little, their joy in the Lord knows no limit.  I walked away thinking, “Shouldn’t I want to switch places with him?”  It seems I should want that joy, that complete faithfulness in God’s promises, instead of all the material things of this world.  What will all my stuff get me in eternity? 

“Do not store up for yourselves treasures on Earth…But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven.”  -Matthew 6:19-20

I realize I spend so much time storing up earthly treasures, while President is storing up heavenly treasures.  He has almost nothing.  I have so much more than I need.  Who is richer?

“We will work out hope and justice, for the sick, the lame, the lost, for the widow and the orphan, bringing help at any cost.”  

 Mo Leverett from the song “Pushing Back the Dark with Light”

On our first morning in Pretoria, Allan (the team leader) gave us an overview of Africa Revolution’s vision, mission, and ethos. What stands out to me about this organization is the careful paradoxes they balance.
Allan spoke of “holistic redemption” in the community; which means not just sharing Christ and not just meeting physical needs of the grandmothers, the orphans, the hungry, but recognizing that we are called to BOTH, as Jesus worked out both in his ministry. It broadens the meaning of healing.
They also seek to be intentional while leaving space for spontaneity, something that personally challenges my scheduled existence. As he sent us out to work on homes, Nate reminded us that “relational interactions are productive.” O that I could live that out…
Our first interactions with the people in the church were overwhelmingly wonderful.  They each took time to individually greet us and welcome us into their home. As I think about the way I invite people to enter into my world, church, life, I was humbled by their simple acceptance and genuine desire for us to be a part of them. While I selfishly wait to see what people can offer me, they welcomed us with no pretense. I know this just as I know how little I have to offer. 
On our first night, several church members hosted a dinner for us that culminated in a spontaneous dance party, singing, and prayer. About their prayer: The Christians here do it before and after everything (convicting), as well as out loud all at once (uncomfortable, beautiful, powerful).  It felt chaotic, but to visualize, think about the feeling of peace you get when someone prays for you…imagine that rushing over you in constant waves. It’s like blitzkrieg prayer!  When they taught us a “worshipping song,” it sounded like the African singers on Paul Simon’s “Graceland.” Seriously. Is it possible that everyone in Africa can sing? Although I still can’t really get the words right, it sent chills up my spine trying to drink in the moment. Another line from “Pushing Back the Dark with Light” came to mind, “seeking wealth in poverty.” There was true wealth in that place, although an outside observer would have seen only poverty.

On Monday, May 25th, I picked up 9 of my friends (commissioned by Atlanta Westside Presbyterian) at the Johannesburg airport and brought them back to Pretoria to join our Africa Revolution team in serving with and learning from The Powerhouse Church in Mamelodi, South Africa.  How great it is to see familiar faces after being away from home, church, and family for 9 months now.  For their time here, I will be featuring their own thoughts/stories of their experiences…because, there is nothing like experiencing Mamelodi for the first time!

Anytime you mention the word “Marabastad” around here, you get wide eyes and something to the degree of, “that place is crazy, dangerous…don’t go there, etc.”  So, I have enjoyed the reactions from people when I tell them that I have been to Marabastad for 3 days in a row now.  

The story starts back in December when a whole list of my belongings were stolen out of a holiday rental near Durban, including credit cards, driver’s license, passport, and visa.  And of course, I would have rather handed them a thousand U.S. dollars than for them to take all of my personal IDs, etc.  And now, 5 months later, I am still in the thick of replacing my South African Volunteer Visa. 

After many calls to the Washington DC South African Embassy and the SA Home Affairs offices and searching on the internet, I realized that I was getting no one that could tell me what to do.  Upon the advice of the locals, I decided to go to a home affairs office located in Centurion, about 30 minutes away to avoid Marabastad.  But when I arrived, they said they did not have the forms and I would have to go to downtown Pretoria. 

So, when I heard that one of our Zimbabwean friends needed to go to Home Affairs to apply for an extension on their asylum, I thought it would be a good time to accompany him to solve my own issues. 

Usually, when you hear people talk about how crazy/bad a place is, when you actually go there, you find it is not that big of a deal.  Well, this is not one of those times.  Nathan and I were quite shocked at what we saw.  We arrived at 5:30am and started scoping out the place. Since there is safety in numbers, Nathan and I went with two of our Zimbabwean friends (Nicky & President), and they were able to educate us on the process.   People were everywhere, many of which had slept there overnight to get in line first.  President decided to take a shot at getting in line, but came back from the chaos 15 minutes later and decided to take a risk with us.  That is, since we were white Americans, their thought was that we could get them in with us. Nicky & President explained the corruption that existed in detail…because both of them had been subject to it personally.  Thugs from the street, make the refugees pay them money to get in “their line”.  Then, when the time comes to go inside, the thugs go to the hired security guards and offer them a cut of the bribes they have raised.  The ones that pay the most are the ones that have a better chance of getting in.  However, Nicky himself was left to no other option the last time he tried to get his asylum extension and paid R90 only to not get turned away, yet the thug escaped to the streets with his money.

After the gate opened, we got in line with the mob and Nate & Nicky pushed their way forward to a security guard.  And sure enough, he pulled Nate in away from the craziness and allowed him to explain our situation.  The security guard then looked at me and spoke through the noise ”protect your pockets”, and motioned for me to come through.  However injust that it was, I have never been so grateful to be a white American.  He took me inside and led me to his superior who could answer my questions.  After explaining the situation, he told me that I was supposed to be at the OTHER Home Affairs office at 173 Pretorius Street.  Oh me.  At that moment, I turned my attention to advocating for our friend, President.  This guy said that he could not help, so when I returned outside, I asked the same security guard that took me in.  He told us to come back before 6am the next morning and he would see what he could do. 

Nathan and I returned the next morning at 5:30am, walked up to the same security guard, introduced President to him, and he shoved him in a line, three people back.  Then, we waited for over an hour just to see if he would actually get in.  Nathan is busy documenting the story of President, as a Zimbabwean refugee…So, stay tuned to find out the rest of the story on Mamelodi Stories.  To give you a teaser, see the slideshow for a taste of our experience.