I took off for a run in the morning, heading over to the stadium hoping to find my buddies there. I decided if I didn't find them I would hit a two mile time trial to get a little bit of a measuring stick on my fitness, considering I might not have another track to run on the rest of the trip. The thing I had forgotten about was the rain from the night before, and the track wasn't fit for much more than mud wrestling. There were only a two other guys at the track, and I wondered if the rope pulling fitness ladies and Alvin's crew had decided not to come because they knew it was so sloppy. The field was even worse, with half of it completely swamped and the rest looking pretty marshy. I still went for it, and slopped my way through a mile in 5:48 before throwing in the towel. As I was jogging around the track after the mile a man came to and said the track was closed to make sure it didn't get messed up too bad with people running in the mud, and I felt bad that I'd torn up the first lane so much running hard.
As I was running the mile a group of men in suits and women in dresses had filed into the stadium and formed a big circle out on the field. I wasn't paying attention too close because I was running hard, but I noticed that they were holding hands praying. As I jogged past the grandstands watching them curiously a man came out on the track and stopped me to talk to me, which I didn't mind since I was basically just cooling down now and planning on heading out to get in a longer run. He was wearing a beat up old polo shirt and pants and worn out sandals, a pretty typical outfit for a Kenyan that did a lot of manual labor and probably didn't make that much money. He asked me about the people out praying, and explained to me that there was a big worship gathering planned for that night so they had come to pray about that. I wondered whether the field being swamped was going to be a big problem for them, and thought maybe they were specifically praying for a miraculous parting of the waters. He said that he wanted to be able to pray to God like they did, and I told him that he if he wanted to God was always listening and would be happy to hear his prayers. He revealed that he worked in a club and had done a lot of things he was really ashamed, and he smelled pretty strongly of alcohol. I told him none of this should stop him from praying to God and that these were exactly the kind of things he should take to God in prayer. Another guy, not with the church leaders, came over and started talking with us and the conversation turned more to the difficulties of finding work and making money here, which was good to hear, and I think it was as good for them to be able to tell somebody as for me to hear it. I think especially when you're in a kind of difficult situation like that it's good just to have someone willing to listen to what you're going through, and for me it was very valuable to take back with me the stories of these guys who were willing and ready to work, but had trouble finding work. I don't know the statistics, but I think unemployment is pretty high here, at least by American standards, and there's a lot of people who are eager for work that just can't find it. Maybe there is a more basic problem with lack of education that is leaving a large part of the population unqualified for more than manual labor, but at this point I'm just speculating and I'm far from qualified to even speculate on economic issues, so I'll stop right there. To me the take away is that there's a lot of labor that is being wasted because there isn't sufficient work available to employ people are ready to work. When I showed that I was interested and wanted to hear about the difficulties they were going through they asked me if I could help them, I think expecting me too just give them some money, but I told them the best thing I could do was to try to understand what the problems they had were and be able to tell people about them back home. The other guy left and I was excited when the man I'd been talking to, whose name I found out was Henry, turned the conversation back to God and prayer. He was hesitant to pray, but I encouraged him that all of us are sinners and that the people out there praying, who were now filing out of the stadium, needed to pray to ask God to forgive their sins just as much as he needed God to forgive his sins. I kind of hoped one of the prayer group would overhear our conversation and come over, as I felt unprepared and intimidated at the prospect of encouraging Henry to commit his life to Christ. We went up to sit in the stands and probably talked for at least another half hour. He said he had a Bible, and several times referenced biblical stories and showed a pretty solid knowledge of the Bible, and told me about how he had been beaten by people from his village because he wasn't willing to perform certain rituals that he thought were wrong, showing me the scars and his badly swollen ankles that he said still gave him considerable pain. I got more excited as we talked, because this guy seemed to me to be completely ready and open to really committing his life, he just needed someone to encourage him and assure him that the things he'd done and sins he'd committed, rather than being a reason not to pray to God, were exactly the reason he should pray to God. It was an encouraging thing for me personally because evangelism has always been something that I haven't liked, which I know is exactly the wrong thing to say, but every time I think about just walking up and sharing my faith with someone I felt like I was trying to sell something. Here I didn't feel that way at all; I felt like I was giving Henry a message of hope, giving him the best news that I possibly could and showing him how he could free his life from the pain and guilt that he was carrying and keeping to himself. The whole conversation just felt to me the way that I always felt evangelism should feel like. I told him we could pray right now, for healing his feet and ankles, for reconciliation with his family and village, for forgiveness of sins, and for Christ to become the Lord of his life. I never really been one for praying out loud, but without a doubt the Holy Spirit was there, and the words just flowed as Henry and I sat there with an arm over each other's shoulder praying for healing and forgiveness. It was one of the most heartfelt, earnest prayers I've ever prayed and I felt God's presence in a special way. In talking with Henry about the freedom of forgiveness of sins and the hope and joy that Christ gives us in our lives that my own life felt clarified, felt exposed in the best kind of way where things were so simple, and so freeing. I don't know that I've ever felt the freedom and hope of a life in Christ like I did then, maybe because of seeing that happening in Henry. We both prayed for a while, and I urged Henry that if he wanted to make Christ the center of his life, we could do that right now, to which he eagerly but solemnly agreed. We prayed the Daniel Hamilton version of the sinner's prayer, something I had heard dozens of times but had never bothered to really know it well, which I don't have a problem with, because I definitely felt that what was being prayed there had very little to do with me or what I knew and had everything to do with the Spirit working in Henry and speaking through me. Plus, at least in my opinion, if you have a complicated formula for how you should pray to accept Christ in my opinion that's wrong. What was so beautiful about the prayer was that, at least for me, this was some of the most honest, straight-from-the-heart, just crying out to God with what's on my heart praying I have ever done. I was never searching for words because as I was praying the words I was saying were just reflecting the outpouring of my heart that I was experiencing. By this point tears were streaming down my face and Henry was all choked up as well. We sat for a little while, I think both of us just basking in the joy and peace and wonder of the moment. At one point Henry broke into song with an old hymn that I vaguely recognized and after another period of silence I quoted Psalm 23, for what reason I don't know, it just came to me.
We concluded the prayer, both of us still in awe of what had just happened and giddy with excitement. Henry said the only reason he had stopped me on the track was because he thought I was with the prayer group, which to me doesn't make any sense considering that I was running around the track while they were praying, but we both felt convinced that it was just absolutely God purposefully bringing together two people to bless each other and further his Kingdom. The whole thing still seemed surreal to me as I tried to process what had happened. I guess I had never pictured leading someone to Christ happening like that because it seemed to have happened to easily and smoothly. I always pictured leading someone to Christ involving me trying to choke down my fear and walk over and awkwardly ask somebody, "Do you know Christ as your personal Lord and Savior?", in the most canned, Sunday school like manner possible (note: please don't construe what I'm saying here as me bashing on evangelism, because I believe it is absolutely a fundamental and inseparable piece of any genuine Christian faith. In being honest with you my fears and doubts and anxieties and frustrations about evangelism are very real and something I wrestle with a lot but they are a big part of what made this encounter so special to me so I wanted to include them here, and if someone who's had similar struggles and frustrations can be encouraged in their faith by this account, then praise God). This had just involved a man approaching me, and me being ready to give a reason for the hope that is within me. I felt as if I hadn't done anything at all, just stood there and answered Henry's questions and nudged him in the right direction a little bit. I didn't have to convince him that accepting Christ was the best decision he could make, he already wanted that and just needed someone to point him in that direction. There had been no five points of leading someone to Christ or a prayer that I had memorized; there was just Henry searching for love and forgiveness and me sharing how I had found love and forgiveness in my own life. This was one of the best moments of my life, one of those times where I felt like I was so filled with joy that I was going to burst. Henry told me that for him I was prophet from God, a messenger who had brought God's love into his life. I was stunned by his declaration of "prophet", thinking that I wasn't nearly bold enough or courageous enough in proclaiming God's message to be remotely considered a prophet. But I thought of Moses, and he was about as uncourageous about being willing to share God's message as anyone ever.
We got a pen and paper from one of the guys that was in the stands, who happened to be one of the pastors that had been at the prayer gathering I think. He seemed somewhat preoccupied with the problem of what to do about the flooded field, and it seemed strange to me to think that he had no idea of the monumental thing that had happened about 25 yards away. Henry wrote down his number for me, and I wished more than ever now that I could remember my Kenyan number to write for him, but assured him I would call him as soon as I got home so that he had my number. For all the cool connections I'd made since being in Kenya, this was by far the most special to me so far, and I instantly envisioned Henry and I staying in contact over the years, encouraging each other in our faith, and hopefully me being able to come back and visit him, and maybe be able to help him out with finding work or moving into a better house. I just felt so much love for him and so overwhelmed by the blessing he had been to me that I wanted to stand by him and encourage and support him in whatever ways I could. I looked at my watch and I realized I had been at the stadium for over two hours and the other back at the house had no idea where I was. I wasn't all that worried though, because I had so much peace that the whole situation was in God's hands, and that what was happening here was more important than visiting around Kisumu with the others, and even more important than Heather and Patrick being worried about me being lost. Maybe some of the moms out there don't really want to hear this, but my feeling is that serving God and proclaiming his love always, always takes precedence, no matter whether it's an issue of safety, or separation from family, or disregarding carefully laid plans, or anything else, including death. To hurry away from that great situation of celebrating the wonderful thing that had happened in Henry's life would not only be turning my back on the work of the Kingdom of Heaven that was happening right in front of me, but would also show a blatant lack of faith that God was watching over the whole situation and would work all things for his glory, whether it messed up the plans we had made or not.
Henry walked back toward the house with me, I think both of us wanting to preserve the moment as long as we could. As Henry told me about what a blessing I had been for him and what a powerful man of God I was, I reiterated to him that I had done very little. He had been the one who stopped me and he was the one who wanted to able to personally pray to God, I was just the person that happened to be there to point him in that direction, and I really feel that way. God worked there in such a way that even if I had wanted to take credit for the whole thing, what could I take credit for? Henry had grabbed me off the track and said he wanted to be able to pray to God like the people in the field were praying with God so basically my role in the process was to say, "OK, let's pray with God!" That was hugely encouraging though because it made me feel that I didn't need to reinvent myself as a Christian to start winning more people over so I could catch up on my count of saved souls. As long as I was willing to share my faith and respond to God's promptings, he would be able to use me in miraculous ways that involved very little of Daniel Hamilton being a great evangelist. I related something along those lines to Henry, telling him that all I had done was try to share Christ's love as it had been so lavished on me, and that I tried to do that all the time, to everyone I met. After a long farewell we finally parted ways and I headed for home, still feeling like I was floating on a cloud. For the day I had basically gotten in 30 minutes of running, including the time trial, then an hour and a half break, then a 15 minute run home, not exactly premium training, especially because yesterday had been such a short day also, but I had absolutely no regrets about it. I thought as I ran home about how often I stated my purpose for running as being to glorify God through my efforts. In that way it fit nicely into the wanting to glorify God with the rest of my life, but I often wondered if I was just kidding myself about that, saying it because it was what I was supposed to say but that running was really the thing I did for myself, to get recognition and because it was fun rather than because it served God. Several time I'd asked myself the really hard question that if I felt God calling me to give up running because I could better serve him elsewhere, would I do it? The troubling answer I usually came to was that I couldn't say for sure that I actually would be willing to give up running. Today though, was encouraging to me in that respect. Even though it was on such a small scale, to drop running without hesitation because I saw a better way to glorify God and honor him gave me peace and encouragement that my priorities, at least in this case, had been in line with serving God. I don't think there couldn't have been anything more hypocritical than me brushing past Henry because I had to stay on track with my run if my stated purpose for running is indeed to glorify God through my running. Apart from running there had been some uneasiness in my life that I was actually serving God in what I was doing, since I didn't feel like I was really doing anything substantial. But I felt a peace now that as long as I was ready and willing to serve God wherever he put me, and trust him with where he put me, he would use me in ways that I couldn't even have imagined. Like leading a guy to Christ on the bleachers of Moi Stadium in Kisumu, Kenya. I rest my case.
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