For the past two days I have been ministering in Kisumu. This carries some sadness for me, as I was supposed to be speaking at a conference there at the end of 2023, but sadly the pastor, Bishop Edward Kunani, died about a month earlier. Bishop Edward was one of our first affiliated ministers, and I had watched him and his church grow over the years. I remember the first time I ministered there, back in 2010. Their building was just a few tin sheets for the roof, held up by rough poles and with sheets of plastic for walls. He confided to me that a previous visiting speaker had rebuked him, saying that he should be ashamed to worship God in such a building. I was furious. I told him, “The God who chose to be born in a stable is not ashamed to be worshipped in a humble building.”
They had begun building around the existing structure, a few bricks at a time. At that stage (2010) the new building was about 2 bricks high. When I returned in 2019, the new building was complete and beautiful.
Bishop Edward himself had been battling cancer for many years, and early in December was freed from that battle and went home to the Lord. My ministry these last two days was with a pastor whom I initially met through Bishop Edward, and who then became affiliated with us, Pastor Henry.
As is so typical here in Africa, before we went we were not sure whether we were going to be there for two days or just one. The meetings started on Tuesday, so we had to leave Kitale around 7am Tuesday morning for the three hour drive to Kisumu. We arrived to find the street filled with cows – yes, it was another cattle market. At first I was a little concerned that the noise might be a disturbance, but that turned out to not be a problem at all.
The building where this church meets is tiny, typical of the small shops that line the streets of Kenyan towns. The main room would be maybe four metres square, with a smaller room in front. On the first day around 20 people managed to cram into this space, mostly pastors and leaders. On the second day there were more.
I thought I was going to be taking one or maybe two sessions on Tuesday, but it turned out I was doing three. As I have said before, I love ministering to pastors and leaders, because I know that whatever I share is going to be multiplied as they then share it with others.
Yesterday I was only supposed to have two sessions, as we were travelling back to Kitale in the afternoon. However, they requested that on the second session instead of speaking for an hour, I take an hour and a half – then afterwards they threw in a “Q&A” time, which basically became like a third session. It was great to have these men and women of God asking intelligent and probing questions, showing that they had indeed taken in the things that I had been sharing.
At the end they all prayed for me, then I had the privilege of praying for some of them (I had also prayed for some of those who were there on Tuesday, including Pastor Henry, who confirmed yesterday that part of what I had prayed for him on Tuesday had already come to pass.)
We were supposed to be going on to Busia today for another conference, but that has been cancelled, so I am having a rest day (for which I am grateful) and will be here in Kitale till Tuesday.
Maybe because I’ve actually stopped for five minutes, I’m feeling a bit homesick today.
Don’t get me wrong. I love Africa. I love her people. I love her rawness, her wildness. I love her unpredictability, and that she can still surprise me (even, as I said in a previous post, if it not always in the most pleasant of ways.) I love that she challenges me and stretches me.
I love that all my hosts here have been amazingly kind and generous, welcoming me not just as a visitor from overseas, but as part of their families.
Most of all, I love that in being here I know that I am right at the centre of God’s will for me at this time, and that He is using me for His glory, sometimes even in spite of myself.
Nonetheless, I am missing home.
I miss the people who are dear to me.
I miss having a conversation that I can fully understand and take part in.
I miss being able to preach without wondering whether my interpreter is truly conveying my message.
I miss driving, and the independence of being able to hop in the car and go where I want when I want.
I miss my garden – though even when I go home I will still miss it, because I’m no longer in a house, but in the caravan.
I miss shopping (which is crazy – at home I hate shopping.)
I miss mushrooms. And cheese – especially Aldi soft blue, which will definitely be an item on my first shopping list when I get home.
None of these are terribly important, and this might sound like a bit of a “grizzle post”, but I want this blog to reflect the “downs” as well as the “ups” of missions service.
And on a rather delightful note, I hadn’t told anyone about missing cheese, but what should arrive for my lunch today but pizza! God is so good … He’s awesome when He moves in power, but He’s also great when He knows and cares that His servant is missing cheese.
Yesterday morning I preached at the church led by Pastor James, who took me to the pastors and leaders conference on Saturday. Their building is interesting – it is built in at T shape, with three separate areas joined by the main altar area. I have tried to put photos of two of the areas together in the hope of giving you some idea what it is like. (I tried to make it a panorama of all three areas, but the third pic just would not co-operate.)
Even more interesting than the building itself is their seating policy – kids in the first area, women in the middle area, and men in the third area. I’m assuming that this also means that husbands and wives have to sit separately. I found this particularly strange, given that they have (and celebrate) several lady pastors in their denomination.
I had quite a good chat with Pastor James before the meeting. Among other things, he shared that their denomination has a policy of transferring pastors, and that he had been transferred from a large, thriving church to this one, which at the time was very small. I can understand the thinking that a pastor who has been able to build a successful church might be able to take one that is struggling and build it up, but it must be terribly discouraging for the pastor. It opens up a nasty possibility of corruption on the part of denominational leaders (“my church is small and struggling, yours is large and growing, so I’ll just take over yours and transfer you to mine.”) Even worse, it means that the pastor can never develop a true fathering (or mothering) relationship with the people, as he/she could be ripped away from them at any time. Just another reason why I hate denominationalism!
After I had preached and prayed for almost everyone in the house, while they were doing the announcements and offering, a little girl from the congregation came up to the altar area and handed me a little bag of what I thought at first were figs. When we went back to the house and I had a closer look, it turned out they were not figs but the African version of passionfruit. I love passionfruit, so thought I would try one straight away. As I cut it open, I was squirted with blood-red juice. I definitely was not expecting that! Turns out they are very different from our Aussie passionfruit, both in appearance and in taste. The first one I tried was not fully ripe, and was quite bitter. A riper one was more pleasant to taste, but still not something I would rave about. I definitely prefer the Aussie version.
Another African taste I had the chance to try was Kenyan porridge, which we were given while we were talking prior to the service. This is made with millet, and is of a consistency that is thick but drinkable. My opinion? It’s ok, but not something that I would seek out.
We had to leave Kisii after the service, as Enoch had to go back to work today, and the kids had to go back to school. So the house was cleared and the car packed, we had a quick lunch, and around 3pm left for the long journey back to Kitale. For those at home, this is almost 300kms, so like driving from home to Melbourne and almost back again. It was hard driving conditions – bad roads, bad drivers, rain, and for the second half of the trip night – so by the time we arrived in Kitale it was 9.30pm.
Today is a rest day, tomorrow we will be heading to Kisumu for a meeting there before going on to Busia where I will be ministering Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday. Next Monday I move on to Uganda.
However, it wasn’t a total farewell to Kisii. Pastor James has asked, if possible, for me to go to Kisii again when I am back in Kenya in April, to do a 3-day pastors’ conference.
I very rarely remember my dreams, so when I do I sit up and take notice – even more so when I have back-to-back dreams about the same thing. Last night I had two dreams about things being stolen. In the first dream my Mum was with me (she died 35 years ago). I had taken her somewhere in the car, and then parked and gone off somewhere. When we came back to where the car should have been, it was not there. I walked the length of the street trying to find it, but it was nowhere. I was particularly upset because there were important documents in the car. At that point I woke up for a bathroom call.
Immediately I went back to bed, I fell asleep and had the second dream. This time I was in a house with some friends, and a man I know was robbing the house. We plotted how to catch him in the act and grab him, but we were somehow distracted and by the time we turned back to him, he had escaped.
I don’t believe these dreams were pointing to literal attacks on my car and/or caravan, but rather that they are warnings of a general (but serious) attack planned against me and the ministry. More warfare! and I have put prayer requests out to half a dozen different prayer groups. Really getting the impression that the enemy doesn’t want me in Africa. Praise the Lord, that means that God is up to good stuff!
Today was supposed to be a rest day, but as I was finishing off my morning Bible reading, Enoch (my host) came in and said that Pastor James (pastor of the local church, where I will be speaking tomorrow) was here and would like to meet me. Turned out Pastor James was the main speaker for a Pastors and Leaders Seminar today, and wanted me to go with him. At first I thought he just wanted me to be there, which I felt was a bit pointless as I would not understand a word of what was said through the day, but I said yes anyway. Then he said he would like me to take “a few minutes” to talk to them (“a few minutes” varied between ten minutes and thirty.)
Another rough, unmade road; and when we arrived another almost impossibly steep and slippery climb up to the building. The worship was good, but then there were multiple people giving speeches or mini-sermons in Swahili, and I had trouble staying awake.
Finally Pastor James got up and introduced me, and invited me to speak “for ten to fifteen minutes.” After introducing myself, I had a prophetic word for a lady, then felt impressed of the Lord to speak about priesthood. I knew it would need to be basically just dot points to fit in with the time available, but I felt it would give them some things to ponder even so. When I got to fifteen minutes I said, “I’m out of time” but everyone urged me to keep going, so I ended up speaking for about 30 minutes (still not a long time, given the time taken by interpretation.)
Coming after me, Pastor James spoke about the need to make sacrifices for the Gospel (speaking in Swahili, but with enough English asides for me to catch the main drift of where he was going.) At the end he asked people to come forward if they were willing to commit to this, and asked me to pray for them. So I got to do some of my favourite things, minister and impart to pastors and leaders. Who needs a day off?!
When we came back to the house, Enoch had some of his relatives here, and asked if I would mind talking to them a bit. So we just had a very informal chat about my experiences and ministry in general.
Tomorrow I preach here in the morning, then we head back to Kitale for a very full week of ministry before I head off to Uganda.
Today we went to visit an orphanage run by a pastor who is interested in joining the King of Glory Apostolic Network. This trip is primarily about catching up with our existing affiliated pastors, but we didn’t have anything scheduled for this morning so Adams thought it would be a good idea to go and meet him and see what he is doing.
The trip involved many miles of driving along very bad, narrow and steep clay roads, and then a hike to get to the building. When we arrived the children were lined up at the roadside, singing to welcome us. I had to walk along the line, shaking hands with each one. Then two of the older girls grabbed my hands to escort me to the house, with the rest of the kids following.
The last part of the path was a very steep, uneven slope. Even with extreme caution in my descent, I still managed to hurt my knee.
This orphanage is home to 32 children. Most are in primary school, a few in high school, and one remains at the orphanage even though she is in first year university. Kisii is one of the areas hit worst by AIDS, and many of the kids have lost their families to that disease. Most of them are total orphans, with no remaining family at all, but a few have grandparents who are not able to look after them. They live at the orphanage, but go out to school at government schools.
The church was given the land for the orphanage, and built the structures themselves. The main building includes dormitories for boys and girls, a dining hall and kitchen, as well as a staff room and several offices.
After we had prayed for the children, Adams asked each one what they want to be when they grow up. They were certainly not lacking in ambition! Several wanted to be doctors (including one neurosurgeon!), several others were aiming high wanting to become pilots, a few wanted to be journalists, and one girl went against the trends with an ambition to become a police officer.
They entertained me with a couple of songs, sung with amazingly good voices, and an impressive presentation of their memory verses. Then, of course, there were the obligatory photos … Africans love taking photos, and even more love being photographed with the visitors. Another song to farewell us as we clambered back up the cliff, and they accompanied us back to the road and the car.
Today I was speaking at Getacho Fellowship Church, led by Pastor Wilson. Like yesterday, this church is in an out-of-the-way place. Off the main road and down narrow, unsealed, red clay tracks. When we came to the turn-off for the church, the road was even narrower and led up a small but fairly steep hill. Recent rains had turned the clay into a bog. Our first attempt to climb the hill failed half way up, so Adams put the car into reverse and started back down in an effort to get a good run up.
Unfortunately his efforts landed us in one of the boggiest parts, and we were stuck. Pastor Wilson and several other pastors who were there for the meeting ran down in their suits, and proceeded to push till we were out. Adams backed the car as far as he could, and took a run at the hill. This time we made it up the first part, but then got stuck again further up. More pushing and finally we were at Wilson’s house, which was as far as we were going to be able to go. From there it was a narrow, slippery walking track for quite a way up to the church.
First pic shows the road (it doesn’t look nearly as bad as it was) and the second shows me being assisted down the path by a couple of the church ladies.
When we arrived at the church building, there were only a few people there, but more wandered in by dribs and drabs, in typical African fashion, till by the time I was called up to minister the building was almost full, with around fifty people. Following on from my resolution yesterday to never assume that everyone in the congregation is saved, I gave a salvation call – and three people responded to give their lives to Christ! Awesome! Also around ten received the baptism in the Holy Spirit. So excited about what God is doing here.
On the way back, we found the main town area full of people and cows – a cattle market was in progress. But of course you can’t leave an opportunity like that to just cows, can you? So every other kind of market stall was also there, spilling over the street and leaving very little room for cars to get through. Yet I didn’t see any road rage or nastiness, just drivers grabbing any square centimetre they could find and forcing their way into it. Total traffic chaos, but it seems to work.
Tomorrow I don’t have any platform ministry, just going to an orphanage to pray for the kids. Then on Saturday I have a rest day before ministering at the church here on Sunday. At least, that’s how it stands at the moment … but of course, this is Africa, and that could change at a moment’s notice.
On Tuesday we travelled to Kisii, to a village called Ogembo. Kisii is both a municipality and a city, and also the homeland of the Kisii tribe. We are here till Sunday, staying in a home owned by one of the elders of Adams’ church. While I am here I will be ministering at churches pastored by several of our affiliated ministers.
This morning it was the turn of Pastor Isaiah’s church Hope Community Fellowship, which is located in an area called Gucha. We had a bit of trouble finding it, even though we had been here before (it was a few years ago, and most roads in Kenya don’t have sign posts) but we eventually found the right road. It is quite out of the way, and there was a bit of a hike (along a very muddy narrow track) from the road to the church.
Originally the plan was to have two meetings here, but as things often do here in Africa that got changed. In this case, they had a funeral this afternoon, so we were only able to have the one service this morning. There was only a small congregation, around twenty-five people, and I thought they were probably all Christians. However, I felt impressed to give a salvation call anyway, with the result that two people came out to receive Jesus! (Note to self: never, ever, assume that everyone in a meeting is saved.)
One negative aspect today was that Adams had to rebuke a pastor who has been trying to connect with us. This guy had found me on WhatsApp, and had been making quite a pest of himself, but Adams had agreed that I could do a meeting for him while I am here (he is in the Kisii area.) Then today he started messaging Adams telling him stories about various pastors in the network, and telling him to be cautious of them. Adams promptly called him and told him we don’t listen to gossip, and not to contact either of us again. I was proud of the way Adams handled it. I simply won’t tolerate those who try to pull others down to build themselves up.
As for the saga of my leg, I believe it is beginning to improve. I have had a whole tribe of people praying for me, as well as the warfare I have been doing myself. The guy whose house we are staying in is a doctor, and he had a look at the leg when we arrived and has given me a further five days of antibiotics. He is monitoring it while we are here. So I continue in warfare mode and believing for total healing.
In Australia most churches don’t do anything special for New Year. I remember in my early Christian years we used to have “Watch Night” services to see in the new year with worship and prayer, but Christians have become lazier and those have largely disappeared (although a few churches are now starting to revive the custom.)
Here it is very different. “Crossover” services are a big thing – bigger even than Christmas day, which as I explained in a previous post, is pretty low-key. Here in Kakamega the service was scheduled to run from 8.30pm on 31st December to 12.30am on 1st January.
The idea is to take time thanking God for the year that has been, and for the way He has kept us through it. I had not problem with that – 2023 was one of the most awesome years of my life. God made some amazing connections for me; I was ordained as an apostle and prophet (even though I had functioned and been recognised as a prophet for over 30 years, and as an apostle for over 20);
I moved out of my house and into the caravan; I had a great trip to Queensland to visit my family and do some ministry; we had a totally awesome conference; and of course I started on this great adventure. So, yes, I was very much up for praising and thanking the Lord for the year past.
To be honest, though, the actual service did nothing for me. In typical African style, there was lots of noise and shouting. (I wish I could convince my dear African brothers and sisters that God’s not deaf, and neither is the devil.) Of course, it was all in Swahili, so I didn’t understand 99.9% of it. Plus, I was tired and in pain.
Just before midnight John called me up to announce the crossover, then it was my turn to preach. My preaching on this occasion was totally pathetic! I couldn’t pull my thoughts together, I was distracted by my pain, and my voice kept cracking up on me. I was a disappointment to myself, and must have been to John and the congregation as well. Not a great way to start what I am believing to be an amazing year.
The pain was due to a worsening of the problems with my leg that I mentioned in my last post. I initially thought that maybe it was spider bites, but now that does not seem to be the case. It was stinging/itching/burning and really making me feel extremely uncomfortable. My tummy was also feeling upset, probably as a result of the high dose of antibiotics. And when we arrived back from the Crossover service I noticed that the first blister had sprouted two daughters, one on either side.
So I spent much of the remainder of the night in spiritual warfare, as I believe this is part of the attack against Christianity in this area, and against this church in particular.
On Monday it appeared that all the prayer and the meds were kicking in, and it looked like the leg was beginning to improve. But by the evening things had gone downhill again, and I had developed half a dozen new blisters, this time all around my heel. John and Veronica wanted to take me to the hospital on Tuesday morning, but as I prayed about it on Monday night I felt the Lord was saying no, this is a spiritual attack and needs to be addressed in the spirit (though He didn’t say to stop taking the antibiotics.)
So, I’ve got my armour on, and my sword in my hand, and I’m calling the troops to rally around.
Yesterday was not a good day. I kept falling asleep in my morning prayer time, which is never a good sign. Fortunately our only meeting was in the afternoon, so I had the morning off – and slept through most of it. I still felt crook when we went for lunch, but I wasn’t concerned about ministering because I know that normally, no matter how sick I feel, the minute the anointing hits I am fine. That’s normally. But not this time. From the moment I stood up to go to the platform I felt like I was going to pass out. It’s the weirdest feeling to be preaching in power and anointing (and I was) whilst at the same time battling to stay upright.
When we got back to the house I asked the Holy Spirit, What was that all about? Why did the sickness not go when the anointing came, as it usually does? He made it clear that this was a direct spiritual attack, both on me and on the church here, and that there are people in the community here practicing witchcraft that do not want this church to prosper, and were particularly targeting this crusade. So, into spiritual warfare mode.
This morning I woke to find a huge blister on my left leg, in the middle of my shin, and a smaller on on my knee. Both stinging/burning/itching like crazy. I suspected a spider bite. I asked John and his wife if they knew what it might be, but they did not have any idea. Also asked Pastor Joseph and his wife, who have been visiting here for the last couple of days, but they didn’t know either. By the time this morning’s service was over, the main blister had doubled in size. John, Joseph and Joseph’s wife prayed for it and anointed it with oil, but by the time we had finished lunch it was still growing and throbbing, so we ended up going to the chemist and coming back with an antibiotic topical powder and three different antibiotic tablets. I normally don’t like taking antibiotics, but at the rate this thing was growing I thought it was important to hit it hard. I still have not idea what it actually was that bit me.
Apparently I had met Joseph and his wife four years ago at a conference at Bishop Edward Kunani’s church in Muhoroni, but I didn’t remember them. They were in this area for Bishop Edward’s funeral, and so came to visit for a day and ended up staying four days. Over breakfast Joseph commented that my toenails needed tidying, so after breakfast he proceeded to give me a full pedicure – nails trimmed and filed, callouses removed, and a final foot scrub. I felt both pampered and humbled. The pic shows Joseph and his wife (in matching blue) and John and his wife, John holding their baby Michelle Joy – and, of course, yours truly.
This morning was the regular Sunday service for the church here, starting with great worship. Have I mentioned in this blog before how much I love African worship? If I haven’t, I should have. When John stood up he asked the church to pray for me, then invited Joseph up. At first I thought Joseph was going to just bring a short introductory message, but, no, he was preaching a full sermon. Initially I was disappointed – I actually had a word for this morning – but then I thought that John had probably asked him to speak out of concern for me after last night, and much of what he said covered the area of my message, so I thought that’s fine. More worship after Joseph’s message, then I opened my eyes from worship just in time to see John coming down to take me up to the platform. So, this morning they had two messages. I don’t know if that’s normal in the church here, but mine was in large part a confirmation and extension of John’s so it worked well.
After the service, and after they had prayed for my leg, Joseph’s wife told us about a dream she had last night about spiritual attack. That, plus the fact that Joseph had suffered some kind of attack on Thursday night, confirmed to us what the Lord had shown me about spiritual attack on the church, so we all prayed again about it. I believe God has great purposes for this church. John is an amazing young man with a real heart for God and His people, and I believe the Lord is going to use him mightily in this area.
This morning we went out to one of the villages to meet Alphonse, one of seven disabled young people whom John supports. Alphonse is 23 years old. He was born with deformed legs and is confined to a wheelchair. Both his parents are dead, and his only close family is his younger brother Fredrick and his old grandmother, who is also disabled, having lost her right hand. There are also a couple of nieces, who live with the grandmother. Thanks to John’s support Alphonse has been able to attend school, and has become skilled in bead work such as jewellery, purses and mats. In the new year he will be going to a training and rehabilitation centre to learn shoe making and repair. John built a small house for him, where he lives with his brother. The grandmother’s house is nearby.
Alphonse’s dream is to have have a small shop where he can carry out his crafts and sell them to the public. I had the privilege of praying for him, both for God to open the doors for him to achieve his dream, and also for healing. Of course I would have liked to see an immediate miracle with him leaping out of the chair. That didn’t happen, but I believe that God has started a healing work in his life.
Later I was also able to pray for the grandmother, who was not feeling well.
Fredrick arrived a bit later. He is working with a local church and believing to become an evangelist, so I was also able to pray for him.
John had brought gifts of food and new clothing for the family, which were gratefully received by all. Then they decided that they should give me a gift. This is one that definitely won’t be going back to Australia … a massive bunch of bananas!
This afternoon we had a revival meeting at Lubao, about an hour’s drive from here. Unfortunately only a very small congregation, but God isn’t bothered by numbers. Those that were there received the message enthusiastically.