September Newsletter

Hamjambo all! As I sit here tonight and look back at the last month of my life, I cannot help but realize that it has been a continuous lesson in both humility and flexibility. Since the night we arrived at Jomo Kenyatta airport in Nairobi, Kenya late on the evening of August 29, it has been a whirlwind of culture and activity.
During the past four weeks, I have lived in a missionary boarding house, in the home of a Kikuyu family, in a Benedictine monastery, and in the guest house of a convent. I have been to multiple churches and denominations, as well as a Hindu spirituality center. I have been to an AIDS orphanage to feed and care for abandoned babies, and learned how to bargain in Swahili at the traditional Massai market. I have learned about the politics and history of a country that is not my own, and I have tried to understand a people who look and sound totally different than myself. I have walked the streets of a rural village and heard the children chanting "Mzungu! Mzungu! How are you? How are you?" (mzungu means "white person" in Swahili) Through all of it, I have met God in unexpected places and unknown people.
One of the most profound examples of this type of blessing occurred this Sunday when I attended church with a student from the nearby St. Paul's seminary. I have to admit that I was dreading this experience, for it was another in a long line of activities, and I was going to an unknown location with a stranger I had yet to meet. As we made our way across the early morning Nairobi streets, I couldn't help but think I would much rather have slept an extra two hours and then gone to church with the other volunteers. About forty-five minutes and three crowded matatu rides later, we arrived at St. Peter's Anglican Church in Kahawa Sakuri, a part of the city I had not previously visited. We got there a few minutes before 8:00 am, just in time for the minister to ask me to say "a few words of encouragement" at the early morning youth service. From the moment the service began, I felt the joy of God's presence with us as we joined together in songs of praise and thanksgiving. The entire service was full of energy and enthusiasm for the Lord, and the worship team was excited about knowing God and sharing Him with others. One thing about African worship, they know how to rejoice! By the grace of God, I managed to stand and say a few words of introduction in my broken mixture of Swahili and English. After the service, I attended the youth Sunday school class, during which time I had a better chance to interact with the youth and their leaders. I got to listen to their thoughts and ideas. I got to hear them talk personally about their faith, and what God means in their lives. When it came time for introductions, every person stood to say their name, and then added that they were "saved" or "born again" and that Jesus Christ is their Lord and Savior. I was struck by the fact that one of the most important identifying factors in their lives is Jesus Christ. What if we all identified ourselves that way? I have had to introduce myself dozens of times recently, and it usually includes my name, my hometown, my university and degree, and the location where I will be serving this year. What if I just said: Hi. My name is Lauren, and I am in love with Jesus Christ who saved me. What if I stopped trying to sound impressive, stopped trying to earn respect or recognition and realized that everything I need can be summed up in that one sentence. The only status that actually matters is that I am loved by Almighty God.
Here in Kenya, they have a much deeper grasp of this fact. Yes, Kenya has problems: poverty and disease are running rampant, the streets are dirty and crowded, the slums are overflowing with individuals who cannot find a permanent home, and yet there is life here. There is humanity here. There are beautiful, capable people who have put their trust in the Lord, and who are in love with the same Savior that I have come to know and to love. As we took communion this Sunday, I was reintroduced to the God who cuts across all of our make believe borders. For the God we worship in America is the same God worshipped here in Kenya: He is the God of justice and mercy, the God of the physically sick and politically oppressed. He is the God who gives rest to the weary and food to the hungry. He is the God who gives us privilege so that we can use it to make a difference in the lives of our brothers and sisters around the world, the God who unites us all through the body and blood of His Son.
In the coming week, I will be moving out of the city into my permanent placement for this year. I will be heading to Ichachiri High School, in Gatundu, a rural village in the Kiambu district. As I go, I pray that God will continue to challenge me, that He will continue to stretch my identity and my faith. I love you all, and thank you for the encouragement and support that has allowed me to come and to serve here.

Blessings,
Lauren Scharstein