91 — Too Much Mutton! (Kariba: Sep 1984)

So here we were on our way again to Kariba.  This time it wasn’t a vacation, but a change of operating theaters.  As we moved into a tiny three-room suite at the Kariba Christian Centre, we were far too busy to think about what all of this meant for us as a couple in the greater scheme of things.  Today, however, as I read through my journal entries a quarter century later, I can see just how far we had wandered from anything we had known before.

Married 8 years, I was 35.  Pegi was 32.  For the last 15 years, my entire focus had been my spiritual growth as a follower of Jesus.  I had dropped out of university at 20 and never found a career path other than the hope of “full-time ministry.”  Yet, the unusual trail that had led a Jewish ex-hippie and his spouse to Africa did not resemble that of other missionaries.  I still had no formal biblical or ministerial training.  Nevertheless, I had pursued my goal with a single-mindedness and energy that makes me short of breath today!

Every day was packed with activity: hours of intensive personal study, leading others in biblical studies, nighttime evangelistic meetings, one-on-one spiritual counseling and all the details of managing life’s details in a foreign country on little to no money.  A typical week included 2-3 nighttime outdoor evangelistic events to between 50 and 500 people, speaking engagements twice on Sundays as well as mid-week, 5-10 appointments with ministry workers, 4-5 daytime bible studies or schools of ministry, 5-10 personal letters to supporters, . . . We were really energetic!

We were also deeply entrenched in what is best described as charismatic ministry.  The first 10 years of my Christian wanderings had kept me firmly rooted in that part of evangelical life that viewed the expectation of “Spirit-filled” miracle ministry as highly suspect.  But, as Pegi and I had sought to live out our lives with effectiveness, we had found ourselves drawn to the claims of Pentecostal/Charismatic ministers as explained in 66 -- Listen for Music and Follow It.  Since arriving in Zimbabwe, our experience seemed to verify that non-charismatic ministries were uniformly unsuccessful.  They neither caught nor held the attention of the African populace whose indigenous religious sensibilities were accustomed to examples of “power.”  

Of course, music has always been at the core of my being. The lively music that characterized the charismatic movement was quickly incorporated into our ministry.  Africans, too, seemed to have a strong affinity for music and responded readily to our ministry because of it.  African tradition also has an expectation of practical and powerful results from religion.  I never could accept the paradox of the spirit-filled and empowered ministry of Jesus and his disciples compared to the somber intellectualism of modern Christianity.  I had never been interested in the doctrine, dogma, tradition and authority of the historical Christian movement.  My interest was in the fullness of life expressed by Jesus and his Jewish disciples.  What Jesus and his disciples had experienced pulsed with life and truth.  That is what I wanted to experience!  So, I was drawn to charismatic present-day experience that claimed to be parallel to that of the 1^st century.

When we had ministered with Felix or others who actively sought the “power of the Holy Spirit” we seemed to have immediate results.  When we had encountered traditional ministry such as at the Chisipite Baptist Bible Church, the congregations were lifeless and unenthused.  We did note that much of what passed for charismatic ministry was seriously lacking in biblical fidelity.  It seemed to me that charismatics used the Bible as justification for activities that were clearly outside of any sound biblical context.  We sought to unite sound biblical exposition with the experiential power of the Spirit of God.  That desire on our part often resulted in unrealistic hopes.

We had adopted not only charismatic ministry, but also its vocabulary.  As I read through my journal entries, I am embarrassed by my own naiveté.  There are constant references to praying for miracles of healing, “confessing” ministry finances, attacks by Satan, victories over demonic powers and overly-optimistic estimates of how people have “given their lives to Christ.”  Here is an example that makes me dizzy just to read:

Kariba - Saturday, 8 September 1984

This morning we are really encouraged in the Lord and ready for a crusade tonight . . . .

—We arrived at the park in Mahombekombe only to find that the carnival was still there.  It was supposed to have finished on Friday night.  Also, there were traditional dancers and a film at the hall!  We decided to set up anyway!

We spoke to the foreman of the carnival and told him it would be okay for him to stay, even though we had permission to use the park.  We would set up next to him and he could turn off his music once we started.  He agreed and was helpful at first.

    We began to sing with only about 20 children present, but after a few minutes there were at least 1000 people.  By the time we started the film [from a T.L. Osborn evangelistic crusade in the Philippines with tens of thousands in the audience and dozens of testimonies to miraculous healing], there were at least 1500.  

    Just as we were about to show the film a town councilman showed up saying that we really didn’t have authority to be there.  We told him that we DID!  He said the foreman of the carnival had complained because we were there.  He had apparently become upset when we took his crowd away from him.

I stood my ground and said that as far as we were concerned, we had permission and we would not move.  The councilman relented offering us the town hall for tomorrow night and the rest of our crusade.  We agreed with that and went on with showing the film.

The devil had tried once again to stop the preaching of the gospel and once again had failed.  We had called his bluff and took authority over the situation.  

At least 300-400 raised their hands to receive Christ.  Allowing for the 200 we counted two weeks before, I would say there were about 200 new commitments.  That puts our total at 2897 [since our return in 1983].  We gave out about 1000 tracts and had the thrill of defeating the devil even though he had us surrounded—Praise the Lord!

Sunday, September 9

Tonight we set up in Mahombekombe in the hall.  It was very hot and about 150 came.  We sang and then I preached on Ephesians 2.  I had asked how many were born-again and it looked like everyone raised their hands.  

Afterwards, I gave an altar-call and one young man came forward.  After he prayed he said he could feel joy flooding his being.  We prayed for 3 sick people, one with TB, another with a deaf ear (who then asked what he must do to be saved), and another (who had been saved the night before) who was suffering from dizziness.  [He must have felt like I feel now recounting all of this!]  

Jeff and Tinos

A rainy night in Mahombekombe

Monday, September 10

. . . This evening in the park at Mahombekombe only 100-150 came.  Tinos preached, but 51 came to the Lord. . . .  We prayed for healing for about 20, several testifying to being healed.  

Tuesday, September 11

. . . At Mahombekombe park . . . About 150 of 500 responded (Total 3118) . . . 

Pegi was asked to pray for a woman with pain in her back.  After praying, the pain moved to her chest.  Pegi cursed Satan and the pain left.  This was important for Pegi since she saw that the Lord could heal through her without me there praying with her.  [Can you believe this stuff?  I shudder to think that this is what we were actually thinking at the time!]

—The amazing thing about this evening was how peaceful and orderly it was.  We didn’t have to rebuke the devil all night.  It was like Satan got tired and left us alone tonight.  [I seemed to have already forgotten about Pegi rebuking Satan as I jotted these things down before going to bed.]

So, at least from our perspective at the time, our ministry was successful and it seemed that we had made the right decision in moving to Kariba.  We had also begun to feel that we no longer needed the experience of Felix or someone else to guide us and pray for healing.  Neither did we seem to need the films any longer as several nights without them at Mahombekombe had shown.  We were gaining confidence in ourselves that the Lord was with us in ministry.

However, life at the Kariba Christian Centre was not working out as expected.  Yes, Lester wanted us to be involved as “trustees” in its management as a rest stop for missionaries on furlough from Zambia.  Yes, we could use it as a base of operations to meet other missionaries and ministries with whom we could work.  Yes, we would be actively involved in ministry to exhausted missionaries in need of rest and relaxation.  Yes, we could cook meals and wash dishes — What?  We were expected to work for free as kitchen help?

Yup, apparently by moving into a tiny un-air-conditioned suite of three rooms, we were expected to cook and clean.  I sure didn’t remember a discussion of this in the “You don’t understand that God has sent you” discussion!  And then there was the matter of the single small fan in our room.  Lester needed to give that to some other missionaries in another room.  We were expected to sweat it out in our room without the A/C that Lester had in his.  And now we wouldn’t even have a fan to keep the thick hot air moving?

And, what had happened to those nice meals that we had in the cafeteria the first two weeks we had visited?  Well, apparently, finances were running low since some of the missionaries refused to contribute to the cost of their room and board.  Even though Pegi and I were paying the advertised rates to stay there, we would pretty much have to live on a diet of mutton that had been donated by a local farmer.  There was no fruit, although the markets were overflowing.  We were short of bread, even brown bread.  We had limited supplies of eggs and milk.  I don’t remember any vegetables.  We had mutton for supper, mutton stew for lunch and although we didn’t have mutton for breakfast, all I remember is the smell of mutton with every meal.

Up until now, everyone we had met in Zimbabwe was incredibly giving and hospitable, recognizing that we were without regular financial support.  White Europeans and black Africans alike always had sought to share their best with us.  But, Lester and Peggy Seiler, who had significant regular support for themselves and the Kariba Centre ministry from America, were not willing to share.  We were paying for our room and board just like the other visitors at the Kariba Christian Centre, but for the privilege of helping out, we would cook, clean and eat rations.  This wasn’t going to work!

Pegi and I decided that this was a perfect time for us to make a trip back to the States.  While there, we could visit friends who were interested in our ministry.  Now that we had ample tangible success to talk about, we should be able to raise enough regular support to get the minimal transportation, equipment and operating funds so that we would no longer be dependent on hospitality.  The hospitality, except for the glut of mutton, had been wonderful.  But now it was time for us to be responsible for our own expenses and free up resources to support indigenous African workers.  With about US$2000/month regular support we could provide for ourselves and support others such as Norman and Tinos.  Maybe we could also help out other new missionaries who were just getting established.  Whatever support we raised, I was confident we wouldn’t have to eat mutton ever again!

Next:  92 — Where Is Home Anyway? (Kariba:  Sep 1984)

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89 — You Don't Understand that God Sent You (Wedza-Harare-Kariba: July 1984)

By the time we arrived back at Lushington Farm, we were wrung-out emotionally.  It had been some roller coaster ride.  The week had started with vindication of our insistence that the rural areas were ripe for harvest.  After all, we had named our ministry “Africa Harvest Ministries” in anticipation of a bountiful harvest of souls for the kingdom of God.  Our tent, designed for 300 had accommodated crowds of over 1000.  We anticipated hostility and suspicion from police and political officials.  Instead, they had opened their homes and schools to us.  The Communist Party Youth Brigade provided crowd control without intimidation.  They had become some of our most enthusiastic helpers!  We now had congregations on five Wedza farms with Norman as pastor and needed someone to stay to disciple the crowds at Matsine.  Felix’s abandonment of the Matsine project had been the only disappointment as we approached that final Sunday.

My Sunday interrogation by the Ministry of Information 24 hours after Felix’s sudden departure confused me.  It wasn’t the interrogation and the threat of intimidation—it was the hollowness in the center of my chest that came from these two consecutive events.  I felt alone, as if I were standing on the side of a high building with no one to keep me from tumbling over the edge.  You know, you always hear stories of how it is in times such as these that people experience the comfort and presence of the spirit of God.  I didn’t feel that at all.  I was shaken to the core.  Despite all the outward signs of success, I couldn’t escape the feeling that everything was quickly coming to its end in the same manner as we had collapsed our tent a few hours earlier.

Dave and Jen welcomed us back to the farm, but at some point they received a call from the CIO (Central Intelligence Organisation) concerning our activities.  This organization was what had become of the Special Branch of the BSAP (British South African Police) during Rhodesia, having morphed into a sinister secret police group modeled on the Soviet KGB.  We didn’t find out about this until much later, but needless to say, it began to seem to all of us that this might be a good time to suspend new activities in Wedza.

We traveled back to Harare for a break from the pressure.  The following is an entry from my journal dated, Monday, 23 July 1984:

Drove to Harare to return the tent. . . . .

• Went by to see Felix.  I tried to share with him our disappointment in his abandoning us.  He didn’t seem to understand and cried.  We don’t want to hurt him, but we must share this problem with him if we are to continue to work together.  I asked him to pray in the next week and then let us know what he believes the Lord wants him to do.  He must decide where his commitment is and let us know what he can be depended on to do.
• We spent the night at the Park Lane Hotel and just rested.  We wanted to be alone after such a turbulent few days.

During the next week, we touched base with our friends in the Harare-based ministries:  AEF’s (Africa Evangelical Fellowship) Salisbury Evangelical Bible Institute, ‘SEBI,’ (owners of the tent and source of some of the films we used); the Deuschles, Brooms and Silks at Rhema; TEAM (Evangelical Alliance Mission); YWAM (Youth With A Mission); Colin and Lynne Taylor (Chisipite Baptist); and Ron Davies of Lifeline Ministries. We recounted the success of our Matsine meetings and growth of the work throughout Wedza.  Even though we needed to stay away for a while so as not to draw attention to ourselves and imperil the fledgling churches and the new believers, these other ministries had the human resources to build upon what we had started.  

They were all seemingly impressed with what had begun in Wedza.  However, with the exception of Lifeline, a literature ministry which was already supplying us with free discipleship materials and Bible study courses, none of them could be moved out of their comfortable lives in Harare.  Rhema was in competition with Christian Life Centre (CLC) and Faith Ministries to claim the largest mostly white congregations in Harare.  There was a core group of about 3000 white charismatic Christians who continually moved their attendance and financial support between these three white-dominated ministries.  [In 1986 we sought to ally Rhema-Harare, financing from Rhema-Johannesburg, instructors from AEF, Apostolic Fellowship and other independent ministries to rebuild SEBI as the Church Growth Support Centre, a Bible training school for pastors.]  

We found the greatest comfort in discussing our vision for reaching the rural areas with those based in Harare most able and likely to actually do something:  Shadreck, Ephael, Aggrey, Amos, Victor and, of course, Felix.  Norman was carrying the weight of ministry in Wedza all by himself.  Someone had to come alongside and build together with him!  Alas, it was not to be.  The foreign-supported ministries were hesitant to move beyond their current structures and “approved” strategies.  Since most of the African ministers were dependents of these white-dominated organizations, . . . well, you do the math!

Zimbabwe had become independent of white rule, but the community of Christians had not.  They still took cues, direction, governance and money from the West.  We were hoping to plant the seed of the gospel in African soil to see a harvest of African Christianity.  That would mean an indigenous, self-governing and self-supporting African church.  

There were two movements that could be considered indigenous and self-governing/self-supporting: The Zimbabwe Assemblies of God Africa (ZAOGA) and the Mapostori (Apostolic) churches.  

ZAOGA was founded by “Bishop” Ezekiel Guti in 1960 as an African offshoot of the Assemblies of God (AOG). By independence in 1980, Guti’s churches numbered in the hundreds throughout Zimbabwe.  In 2012, under Guti’s leadership (http://www.fifmi.org/), they claim over 2000 churches in 106 countries.  During our time in Zimbabwe, 1983-87, ZAOGA was a closed society having little contact with non-members.  Although wildly successful, most Zimbabwean Christians (white and black) were suspicious of Guti’s governance in the style of a tribal chieftain.  If we linked up with them, they would just subsume the Wedza churches into their empire.

The Mapostori (Shona for “apostles”) were also based on a tribal model, but had abandoned all contact with the larger Christian world.  Their leaders were modern-day prophets and apostles claiming direct divine authority.  In 1986 we attempted to form an alliance with one of these “apostles” by providing Bible training for his hundreds of pastors and teachers.  More about that later, but our attempt was aborted when we lost our visas.

Still emotionally drained from our Matsine experience and not finding practical encouragement or support for the Wedza work, we decided we needed a real vacation.  We survived due to the hospitality of Zimbabwean Christians who continued to share their homes, vehicles and financial means with us.  We were still “in the hole” based on American support.  We had regular support of less than $150/month from the States.  However, our friends in Jonannesburg, Harare and Marondera continued to take care of us.  

We had met Nick Levy, another Jewish believer in Jesus, in Salisbury during 1977 who owned a dying used car business.  Although sanctions had ended in 1980, the fleet of cars available in Zimbabwe was based on imports from South Africa.  Most cars were pre-1964 and very expensive.  (I remember trying out a 1959 Jaguar sedan that he had on the lot in 1977.  The car was in wonderful condition and ran great.  The only problem was that there were no brake shoes available.  We drove it around the block at the speed of 15 KPH, spending half of the block trying to stop.  At one point I considered dragging my foot out the door to stop us!  The car was a steal at $600, but the only way to stop would be to run out of gas.  That didn’t seem practical.)

Car purchases in South Africa were difficult for Zimbabweans for two reasons.  First, Zimbabwe limited foreign exchange to several hundred dollars a year.  Second, import taxes were outrageous.  [As an example, in 1987 we “gifted” Felix our South African-built 1965 Peugeot 504 that we had purchased for R3500, about US$2000 in in 1986.  A Zimbabwean rancher paid the Z$1900 (US$600) import duties for him.]

The after-market in parts for these ancient vehicles was even more expensive.  So, you can imagine how difficult it was keeping a car dealership going!  Anyway, our Jewish/Christian friend was still in business in Harare, but just barely.  We had recently renewed contact with Nick and he suggested that we get away from the “craziness” and visit the tourist resort at Lake Kariba on the border with Zambia.  He offered us the use of his vacation cottage there for as long as we needed it.  Some time at the lake sounded great!  It was a 7-hour drive from Harare.  That ought to give us some separation from all the turmoil of recent months.

The long drive to Kariba was a pleasant diversion from the traffic and congestion of Harare and even more sparsely inhabited than Wedza, which was in the general direction of Mozambique and the coast.  Before the Marxist takeover of Mozambique in 1975, the port of Beira had been a major tourist destination for Rhodesians.  With Zimbabwe independence in 1980, the border reopened, but the roads were impossible to traverse.  So, during the height of the war in Rhodesia from 1975-79, the only resort town available to Rhodesians without traveling to Durban in South Africa was the small town on the Rhodesian side of Lake Kariba Dam [https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lake_Kariba#/media/File:KaribaDam.jpg].

The terrain was a bit desolate looking as we descended from the highlands of Harare (4000 ft) into the Zambezi river valley.  We saw few people, but plenty of elephants as we got closer to Kariba.  On several occasions we had to pull to a stop while we waited for a herd of them to cross the road ahead of us.  African elephants are not like their more docile and domesticable Indian cousins.  Get too close and they will trample your car!

Wikipedia:  This image was originally posted to Flickr by Rhys Jones Photography at http://flickr.com/photos/23676445@N00/396831697. It was reviewed on 10 December 2008 by theFlickreviewR robot and confirmed to be licensed under the terms of the cc-by-2.0.

The final miles had us traversing switchbacks in the road as it topped out overlooking the lake and the small “Kariba Town” overlooking the dam.  It was beautiful and hot—just above sea level, Kariba is sticky-hot all year round.  We drove around a bit to see where the resort hotels, shops and restaurants were located.  As we headed toward the highest vantage point to view the dam, we noticed an old hotel.  It had a sign out front that read, “Kariba Heights Hotel.”   [Link to a video of the hotel when it was built:  https://www.britishpathe.com/asset/208297/].  Since we were in “vacation-mode” and wanting to forget about ministry for a few weeks, we decided to go inside for a meal.

To our surprise, the old hotel was now “Kariba Christian Centre,” a resort for missionaries  who were based across the dam in Zambia as well as local Christian ministers and workers.  It was run by an American couple, Lester and Peggy Seiler.  Lester suggested that we take our meals there rather than shopping and cooking for ourselves while we were staying at Nick’s cottage.  We didn’t really know what to make of all of this as we had come to Kariba to get away from it all, but it couldn’t hurt to rest and relax with some other missionaries could it?  While we eating lunch with them, we ran into Rhoda Hess, the sister-in-law of Dave Hess in Marondera.  Dave and his family had grown up in Zambia where their parents were Brethren missionaries.  Frankly, Rhoda didn’t seem interested in talking.  Maybe she was as exhausted as we were!

Puzzled as to what this all might mean for us, we headed over to the cottage for the evening only to discover that it wouldn’t be ready for us until the following day.  So, we climbed in the car and went back over to the Kariba Christian Centre to stay the night. The Centre had air conditioning in the rooms and that was a welcome break from the overpowering heat!  This was the first time we had encountered or needed air conditioning since first arriving in Rhodesia in 1977.  The air in Kariba was hot and thick enough to chew.  We wouldn’t be spending too much time outside during this vacation.

In the morning we joined about a dozen others for breakfast before departing to move into the cottage.  No sooner had we unpacked and settled down for tea at the cottage that Lester showed up at our door.  Inviting him in, the first words out of his mouth were, “I don’t think you are hearing God very well.”  Kind of a strange way to start a conversation with people you have just met!  Rather than taking offense at the abruptness of this odd statement, I asked him just what he meant.  He continued, “You don’t understand that God sent you here.”

I was beginning to wonder if we had made a mistake in coming to Kariba in the first place.  We weren’t getting much of a vacation. Instead, we seemed to have walked right into a “Christian” hotel/ministry that was going through some real difficulties.  The meals had not been great.  We were used to plentiful meals at Lushington Farm or in the homes and restaurants of Harare.  The lunch had been a very salty and greasy mutton stew. The breakfast featured eggs, but none of selection of fruit common everywhere else we ate.  The atmosphere at the Centre was neither welcoming nor restful.  You could feel the stress in the air.  Something was going on there—something was wrong!

Lester told us that the Centre was struggling, needing refreshed ministry and leadership.  He said that he believed the Lord had brought us there, not for a vacation, but to establish a new base for our ministry.  He began to paint a picture of a place that needed the infusion of fresh vision and energy that we could bring.  He insisted that we stay in the Centre instead of the cottage and meet the local African ministers.  He also told us that the other couple that helped him run the place were struggling with the husband’s alcoholism and planning to move out.  When we had shown up there, he believed God was sending us as their replacements.

Well, that was a lot to swallow, especially as I was still digesting that greasy mutton stew!  But, we agreed to stay the week at the Centre and explore options.  With the heat, there was really nothing to do in this resort town anyway except to spend all day sitting in the cottage.  The town felt really deserted and lonesome.  There was no question of returning to Lushington and Wedza right now.  We needed to stay clear for a while.  The Harare ministries with the exception of Chisipite Baptist, had never opened their doors to us to allow us to become co-laborers with them, so there was nothing for us right now in Harare.  They were so focused on squeezing every dollar out of their American and South African donors that they saw us as competition.  And, of course, the door at Chisipite had closed unpleasantly.  

Over the next few days, we met with Sidney Moyo from YWAM (Youth with a Mission) who assured me that he knew some other African believers who shared our vision for reaching out into the rural areas.  We also met Tinos Sakala at the Centre.  He was already actively involved in ministering to Kariba township.   We hit it off with Tinos right away.  He was more than eager to work together to help us reach out from Kariba.

The traffic began to pick up at the centre too.  We had opportunity to talk with experienced missionaries, mostly from Zambia, with whom we shared our ideas about rural indigenous church growth.  We got a lot of good advice and support for our ideas as being “on the right track.”  We also had opportunity to minister to many of the visitors.  Our fresh approach and crazy ideas seemed to encourage them.  We had wanted a vacation from ministry.  We were getting our vacation by ministering.  Each day we found ourselves more refreshed and stronger.  The A/C in the evening didn’t hurt either!

On the first Saturday (28 July 1984), we woke up “at peace” with idea of possibly having Kariba Christian Centre as a secondary base for our ministry.  Feeling back to normal for the first time in months, we were open to wild ideas.  As we were having tea that morning, two busloads of secondary school students unloaded at the overlook in front of the Centre.  Seizing the wild opportunity, I grabbed my guitar.  Pegi and I went out and sang for them, passing out literature from Lifeline Ministries.  That afternoon, another busload of tourists unloaded a group of students from an Ndebele (a minority tribal group from southern Zimbabwe related to Zulus) teachers’ college.  We sang for them eliciting another enthusiastic response.  There is nothing we liked better than ministering in music.  This had turned into an unusual vacation!  Whatever it was, it was working.

Next:  90 — Contrasting Hearts (Harare:  Aug 1984)

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