Easter Conference

Members of four area churches gathered in Itewe for a two-day Easter Conference. Although Itewe is the closest of the four villages to Idigima Secondary School, all are west of two very deep valleys.

Because we’d just completed the Mid-Term Exams and had 700 to score and 7,000 scores to enter into the computer, I declined the offer to be the speaker for both days and agreed to attend only on Sunday.

After a night of rain, my thoughts were occupied with the treacherous slopes, deeply rutted and slippery with mud. It seems I am always contemplating the possibility of these trips being my last act of service. Surprisingly, the slopes had drained off and dried by the time Moses picked me up on his motorbike. The flat stretches, however, were scattered with patches of mud and standing water; we fishtailed our way to Itewe.

To my surprise, the order of service was quite different this year. In the past, we enjoyed a long song service, where choirs from the different churches each brought a number of songs. Various preachers and teachers would then share in the teaching and prayers. This year, after taking our seats at the front of the building, Pastor Michael leaned over and whispered that there would be an opening song, and then I would have one and a half hours for preaching . . . (Be ready in season and out of season . . . and pray that the Lord will be glorified.) There are, of course, no clocks on the rough mud bricked walls, so I don’t know how long I preached, but the entire service was over three hours long. It is really not that hard to spend a couple of hours preaching on the resurrection. We had eight people come forward “to beg God’s forgiveness.” They had another believer come to the Lord on Saturday.

After a luncheon of ugali, greens and chicken parts, we gathered again for a celebration service, which included the dancing and singing from the different church groups. Rain was threatening, so it was suggested that Moses rush me home. The only problem was that someone had taken the key from his motorbike, and they didn’t track the kid down and recover it until the rain was upon us. The spirit of the meeting was not dampened, even though holes in the roof and the absence of glass in the windows allowed for cooling mists and droplets. With probably 300 people pressed into the building, it was actually a relief from the heat.

When the rain reduced to a sprinkle, we set out. The flat stretches were worse than in the coming, and both of us had our feet down to keep the bike from going down. When we came to the steep slopes, I picked my way down on foot while Moses slid down the best he could with the bike. A very tense hour later, I was home . . . wet, cold, muddy, exhausted, but safe . . . again!

The Lord is good all the time.

Gary and Joanne Grenell in Tanzania