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Author: Jon

My Friends’ Memories From 2009 and Plans for 2010

A Jon Post

“What is the best memory you have of 2009?” I ask in halting Portuguese.
S, the quiet yet confident one responds and tells me, “No, I have been here. I don’t have any good memories.”
“But you haven’t been here all year!” I reply, “What is the best memory you have from the WHOLE year?”
“Ah,” S responds, “Well, I got a job (a missionary from Northern Mozambique hired him as a guard outside his house) with a good salary and I was able to provide for my family. That happened in March!”
“And you T? What is your favorite memory?”
“None Jon, I have been here since January. I have no good memories from 2009.”
“Nothing, T? Come on there must be some good memory from this year!” I respond, trying to sound positive.
“No Jon… nothing beautiful happened to me this year. I have been here.”
Try as I might, I can not get T to tell me a good memory from last year.
“Ok,” I say, trying a new tactic and to sound positive, “When you guys are better what are your plans for 2010?”

Suddenly the smiles are set free and we talk about going home to family, getting jobs, moving to better places, providing for sick and dying uncles or other family members. J tells me about his children back home waiting for him to return. T tells me about getting a good job, buying some good land and farming on it. S tells me about his 6 children who he is so proud of who all passed the school year (a very rare thing here) and the two oldest who he hopes to send to university this year.

And all of us smile and laugh and enjoy the hope that has crept back into our conversation. And all of us try to ignore the black truth that looms over the entire oncology ward. These men will probably be dead before these plans come to pass. They will probably be dead before the end of this year.
“What are you thankful for this new year?” I ask.
“That we saw 2010! And we just pray that we see 2011” J responds with a large smile.

This is life here in the oncology ward at the Maputo General Hospital.
This is life… a nearly infertile soil where roots of hope occasionally writhe their way out to see the sun.
This is death… a black mass of poison growing deadly hideous… worms of cancerous cells tracing their fatal path across skin, bone, flesh, eyes.
This is life… and death… in the oncology ward at the Maputo General Hospital.
What part do I play in it? Not much I think. Enough, I hope, to see Jesus lying on dirty, sweaty, uncomfortable sheets on a thin mattress. Just enough to show the love of Christ with a smile, a prayer, a kiss, a cool cloth on a sweaty forehead.
And to hope. To hope in this mystery… that the sting and victory that death has now will be swallowed up.

Merry Christmas

A Jon Post

What an amazing God we serve.
In light of the recent “extended text” versions of these blogs I’m going to keep this one short. I just want to say a few things since this is good ol’ Christmas Week. A role model of mine often makes lists of things he’s thankful and it is always pretty moving so I think I’ll model that today.

Thing’s I’m Thankful For This Christmas

  • Singing and laughing with 75 orphans and vulnerable children at a children’s ministry yesterday
  • Being back in Africa after a year away
  • Fans (when the air is so hot, moving it around the room REALLY makes a difference)
  • The way people here in Mozambique smile and say “Bom Dia” with such a welcoming voice
  • When my wife looks at me with her smiling eyes. It melts my heart every time. I could not have chosen a more lovely or loving woman to join with me in living the epic
  • Finding the family of Christ all over the world
  • Banana bread
  • That my wife can make some INCREDIBLE food with really really basic ingredients
  • The love of Christ that Africans (Angolans, Namibians, Batswana, South Africans, Mozambicans) seem to be so good at showing
  • My Chaco sandals (I’ve had these for 5 years and there’s no reason to think they won’t last another 5)
  • My family back in Arizona and Texas
  • Supporters who pray so hard for us

We have a quick year end letter to all of our supporters. If you have time you can download and read it. For those of you who like to paste Christmas cards up on your mantle we have one here as well

Christmas Letter

Christmas Card

Merry Christmas from Mozambique

Merry Christmas from Mozambique

Being a Missionary Father

A Jon Post

When he was young, about the age I am now, he wanted to go. He even had a location he felt the Lord had put on his heart. China. He bought and read many books about missions in China, the Chinese culture, the Chinese language, all of them still in his library bookcase today. He was passionate. He was unafraid. He was going.

Father and Son

Father and Son

But the timing wasn’t right. He got married, he started a family, and he was VERY good at his engineering job. He went on a short trip to Taipei, but the long term vision changed.

I came along after a few years. Growing up under his love, care, and stern hand of discipline, there was nothing I wanted more than his approval and pride. I wanted to be a veterinarian; I wanted to be the President of the United States; I wanted to be a basketball player; I wanted him to tell me “Well Done”.

I was 14 and, for the first of many times, I went to Africa. I found something that grabbed me even more than all the others: I wanted to be a missionary in Africa. I went back 5 times over the next 6 years. I could feel the purpose and meaning in what I was doing. The Lord put something on my heart much like He did my father’s so many years ago.

My father was quick and faithful to show me how much approval and pride he had in my heart to go. I never doubted that he supported me completely.

In the purpose and meaning I found in being “a missionary”, I started wondering, “Why didn’t my dad do this?” I knew he had wanted to when he was younger. I just thought he had compromised on what the Lord had put on his heart. I let pride well up in my heart. I thought “Well, where my father failed I will succeed.” I even implied in conversations with him “Everyone should be like me! You should be going to China as a missionary!”

It’s been 13 years since I first went to Africa. I am married now and I’m doing what I set out to do. I’m “a missionary in Africa’.

Next step? Starting a family. My wife and I are planning to have children soon. I will be a Missionary Father.

Now, in my travels and my church experience I’ve noticed that children of missionaries tend to struggle mightily. We all know it’s true. Yes, there are some terrific successes in missionary parenting, but in general these kids are miserable people. Growing up as children of these “overseas missionaries” must be a very hard thing to do. As I look to become a missionary father I have started looking for ways to avoid some of the pitfalls that seem so common in my line of work.

I’ve talked to missionary parents about this and I’ve talked to missionary children about this. Both success stories and failure stories.

And I realized something.

I know what it means to be a missionary father.

I’ve always known what it means to be a missionary father.

  • He comes home from his day job every night by dinner time.
  • He prays over his children as he tucks each one of them into bed at night.
  • He sets weekly time aside to join his children in their lives: Sleepovers, sports teams, cub/boy scouts, daddy/daughter night out, family camping trips.
  • He never misses big events in their lives (as defined by his children not by him): Birthdays, losing little teeth, graduations, achy tummies, sports games, scary thunder.
  • He loves his wife extravagantly and shows his children.
  • He disciplines sternly and consistently and lovingly.
  • He plays with his children often.
  • He works with his children around the house.
  • He shows his sons what it means to be men.
  • He shows his daughters what it means to be loved and respected.
  • I have always known what it means to be a missionary father.

    I grew up with one.

    His missionary heart never wavered. It never compromised in its strength or passion. He just realized what most “missionaries” never do.

    His mission was me.

    I know now what it means to be a missionary father: I am a missionary to my children. Everything else is just my 8-5 day job in comparison.

    Ministry outside my home will never be as important as ministry in my home.

    My father taught me that.

    I’ll be a missionary father soon. I hope I make mine proud.

    Long Truck Story

    A Jon Post

    I think this might be a long post. I know some times it’s hard to read these long ones but I feel like there’s a lot that I need to tell everyone. So if you have a few minutes to read, jump on in. It’s a fun story.

    We’ve had quite a ride. It’s funny, we prepared our hearts ahead of time for some of the hard circumstances that might come but we didn’t really expect it as SOON as we landed in Africa.

    Sunday the 8th
    We arrived in Botswana. We expected to pick up our truck that evening or the next morning, Monday the 9th.

    We found out our friends Botho and Faith, who had been taking care of our vehicle for the past two years, left town in to attend an extremely unexpected funeral of a dear family member.

    Wednesday the 11th
    Botho and Faith returned to town and found out that thieves had broken into the hood of our truck and stolen engine parts. Botho took it to a shop to be repaired and we waited.

    From Wednesday the 11th to Sunday the 15th
    We were unable to get in touch with Botho because of phone problems. We spent these days praying and hearing the Lord say “Trust Me. This is out of your control and in Mine. Trust me.”

    Kroll

    Kroll

    Monday the 16th
    We finally connected with and sat down with Botho. Grim news. Our truck had considerably more damage than we expected. Repairs had been going on for nearly a week and there was no end in sight .The cylinder head had been stolen, the pistons had been stolen, the engine block had been damaged by the thieves as they took things out and, even if all the missing parts were replaced, there was no knowing if there was other undetected damage to the engine that could leave us stranded if we were to take it into remote regions of Angola.

    However… the thieves had been caught. Here in Botswana the police and laws work differently and through … ahem… a bit of “coercion”… the police were able to get confessions and the thieves even showed them where they had taken the parts and the car shop they were funding with the stolen parts. Apparently these guys were professional thieves and did this all over the city and then resold the stolen spares from a repair shop. This meant that the (considerable) cost of repair of our vehicle must be handled by the thieves and their assets.

    Tuesday the 17th
    We decided that we could not trust this truck any longer (a very sad moment for me as I’ve driven that truck MANY thousands of kilometers across the entire Southern-African subcontinent) and we needed to look into selling it and purchasing a new one.

    Botho, who has been looking to buy a good 4×4 SUV for his family offered to purchase it from us because he could essentially get unlimited free engine work done on it to ensure the engine was in as good shape as possible. He offered us a good price for it and we asked another friend, Leslie, who runs a vehicle repair shop to help us find a new 4×4 quickly.

    Here’s where the timing of the Lord and His hand shows dramatically what He had planned all along.

    Wednesday the 18th
    Leslie recently purchased a Toyota Land Cruiser, not because he especially needed it, but because the price was simply too good to pass up. This truck was built in Africa, for Africa and has been outfitted to make the long grueling haul that punishing African roads can give. Leslie had been fixing it up for himself (thinking, “Maybe I’ll just keep it and sell my other vehicle”) but when he heard about our plight his generous, missionary heart immediately offered it to us for his unbeatable price. For just a little more than what Botho has offered for our old vehicle we will be purchasing this truck from Leslie that meets every need that we have FAR better than the truck we had before.

    With a brand new suspension, tires, shocks, canvas interior, and all the fine tunings and tweaks that a mechanic does for a truck he expects to keep for himself, this truck has been offered to us for a GREAT price and God has pulled back the curtain that he asked us to trust He was behind.

    He was.

    Thursday the 19th
    We’ve delayed our trip to Mozambique while we wait for a few final upgrades and all the paperwork to be finished for this new vehicle (1-2 weeks). Great missionary friends who live in Lobatse, a town 1 hour from the capitol Gaborone where we were staying, have invited us to stay with them while we wait. They are Americans and have invited us to spend Thanksgiving with them.

    Indeed God was behind the curtain the whole time.

    We anticipate arriving in Mozambique the first week of December.

    Your prayers work. Your love is real. We can feel it from here. Thanks for reading.

    Here in Botswana

    Here in Botswana

    From Botswana

    A Jon Post

    Well we said all our goodbyes and left all of our friends and family in the USA and we got on an airplane Friday afternoon.
    It was very hard. There were many tears.
    We kept going.

    It’s never easy to say goodbye. Especially to the people who deserve all the credit for what we are doing. But we did and we traveled and last night we arrived in Botswana where we will spend the next 1-2 weeks. We’ll get our truck tomorrow. I really miss that truck.

    Angola visas? Naaaahh… We don’t have them. Is that a problem? Well I guess that depends on who you ask. If you ask me I’d say “Yes, a big one”, but if you ask God, He’d say “Nope. I’ve got it under control.”
    I’m still asking Him to get us those visas soon. I’d like to ask all of the people who read this to do that too. Please ask God to get us those visas soon. If you have a second right now… please pray.

    We miss and love you all. We are here. We are safe. We are loved.