tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-50381864979428463052024-02-18T23:55:27.432-08:00All Senegal For Christ!One family's journey to go where Jesus is not known...The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.comBlogger180125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-36243448702954634292018-07-19T04:09:00.001-07:002018-07-19T04:09:31.603-07:00Helping Street Boys in Dakar <div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVXXVpYLQ6BtdrozNXEwCZAx1ng4y1VXZ2reUdKquVZMkfrkWAiYV9PI4egRACQ45W2jlzjWk3zx8I9T74nKGvs-igDpoUo9F6PTCWYcDiGQpjT-ATD7ezZgt8kweXHB94Z1LrLruhHQ/s1600/201482316484271734_20.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="450" data-original-width="800" height="225" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPVXXVpYLQ6BtdrozNXEwCZAx1ng4y1VXZ2reUdKquVZMkfrkWAiYV9PI4egRACQ45W2jlzjWk3zx8I9T74nKGvs-igDpoUo9F6PTCWYcDiGQpjT-ATD7ezZgt8kweXHB94Z1LrLruhHQ/s400/201482316484271734_20.jpg" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">One of the ministries that our organization is involved in helps Talibé boys in the Senegalese capital of Dakar through a local Senegalese church. The word “talibé” means “disciple” or “follower” and is a term that is applied to young boys that are sent to live with a Quranic teacher in order to learn the Quran. These boys, between 5 and 17 years old, many times live in squalid conditions and are often abused. While their evenings are spent reciting the Quran, their days are spent being forced to beg on the streets for a daily quota of money and/or rice to return to their religious teacher. If the boys do not meet their daily quota they are often beaten or suffer severe punishment. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The church <i>La Source </i>in Dakar wants to show these boys the love of Jesus Christ. The courtyard of their church is open three days a week providing these boys with a warm meal, medical attention, a place to shower and wash their clothes, as well as a break from the harsh realities of their life. And it’s also a place to hear the Gospel and see the Gospel lived out as these neglected and forgotten boys are shown love and care. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Would you consider partnering with <i>La Source </i>to help provide this Christ-like ministry to these boys? Their ministry is currently facing financial problems that have caused them to have to scale back their ministry and reduce their part-time staff. Would you consider a one-time gift to help get their Talibé ministry back on its feet? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Giving is easy at www.UWM.org</span><span style="font-size: large;">. Simply click on the “DONATE” button in the top right and find Project #63642, </span><span style="font-size: large;">Senegal: Talibe Ministry. (Please feel free to contact us for additional information.) </span></div>
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The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-76127651819800942072018-07-19T03:59:00.000-07:002018-07-19T03:59:02.199-07:00Life, Family, and Everything Else <div class="MsoNormal" style="font-family: Calibri; margin: 0in 0in 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;">For the first time in eleven months our family is together in Diouloulou as Ezra and Thea have returned to the village from boarding school in Dakar. Please pray for us as we spend the next few weeks together before school resumes and they return to Dakar for their senior year. Also, pray for Ezra and Thea as they begin their last year in Africa before transitioning back to the US next summer. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Matt spent two weeks in the US last month for meetings at the United World Mission home office working on a regional strategic plan and then getting some brief moments with family back in Florida. Pray for Matt as he serves as the Regional Leader for UWM in West Africa and as he balances his leadership responsibilities with his other ministry roles. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Gayle has been battling some sickness and some back problems over the last few weeks. Please pray that the Lord would heal her and that, especially for her back, she might be back to 100% very soon. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Matt will be travelling to two West African countries in August to spend time with colleagues and national partners to see what God is doing there and to look for further opportunities in the region. Pray for safety as he travels and for wisdom as he meets and learns. </span><o:p></o:p></div>
The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-27754758598486565282017-05-03T03:28:00.001-07:002017-05-03T03:28:40.302-07:00Happy 16th Birthday Ez! <div style="border: currentcolor; font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.52400016784668px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Early in our marriage G</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">ayle and I battled with infertility. We tried for over three-and-a-half years to become pregnant before being told by one of the country's leading infertility specialists that the chances of us having children on our own were nearly nonexistent. </span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>God used this long event in our lives as very new Christians to teach us about what it meant to treasure Jesus over and above everything. Even over wonderful things like children. </b></span></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: medium;">But God, in His infinite grace, did indeed bless us with a child. And I can remember how we, our family and our church family and friends rejoiced to find out that after all of this time Gayle was finally pregnant. </span></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><b>When the big day for Ezra to be born finally arrived there was great excitement. Over 25 people were at the hospital as Gayle went into labor. The child that the doctors had said was nearly impossible, that we had all been praying for for years, was getting ready to make his arrival. It was a time of great anticipation and joy. </b></span></span></div>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ez and I in Dakar four short years ago after a long day. </td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>But Ezra's arrival did not go exactly the way that we had planned it. When he arrived there were some unanswered questions about our little boy that the doctors had to look into. And less than 12 hours after Ezra's birth Gayle and I sat alone in the hospital room as Ezra was carted off to have some x-rays done of his skull and to see a neurosurgeon. Our half-day-old little boy was taken away to see what his future, and ours, would hold. This was not the picture that we had imagined for over four years. </b></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-family: Arial;">As Gayle and I sat in that hospital room we were exhausted, confused, and more than a little bit overwhelmed. And it was in that moment that the Lord laid a verse of Scripture on my heart that we had memorized together years earlier. It was </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Psalm 20:7 which reads, "Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we will remember the name of the LORD our God." </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">And there in that hospital room in our time of need we were reminded of our great God. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We were reminded of His sovereignty and His love and His care. We were assured that He was there and that no matter what this looked like or how this turned out that He was in control and that He was always good. He reminded us that He is a trustworthy God and when you cannot trace His hand you must learn to trust His heart.</span></b></span></div>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjlQqERWat-v5CijcEpKbZZ08vz9qSb7trPF0_d83QC5mC58VvYRfks1yedJAZVEy2fnws9sAoDzET5fS59GEHEH8QH8Jl0Px90jsSMNreZR_TArNXiGXk8Je2fzqAJ3NnCqoyis8zEg/s1600/IMG_7410.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgjlQqERWat-v5CijcEpKbZZ08vz9qSb7trPF0_d83QC5mC58VvYRfks1yedJAZVEy2fnws9sAoDzET5fS59GEHEH8QH8Jl0Px90jsSMNreZR_TArNXiGXk8Je2fzqAJ3NnCqoyis8zEg/s400/IMG_7410.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Where does the time go? </td></tr>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Today Ezra turns sixteen years old. And he is in perfect health. He has seen and experienced things in his 16 years of life that many others have never gotten the opportunity to see and experience. We named him Ezra because of what was said about Ezra the scribe in Ezra 7:10: "For Ezra had prepared his heart to seek the Law of the Lord, and to do it, and to teach statutes and ordinances in Israel." By God's grace we are getting a front row seat to see God make him into that kind of young man. </span></b></div>
<b><span style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"></span><br style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 13.52400016784668px;" /><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">Our times of trusting God for Ezra are far from over. I am sure that there are many more bumps and bruises, both physically and emotionally, that we will endure as we move into the future. And when they come I pray that we, along with Ezra, will be able to say, "Some trust in chariots and some in horses, but we will remember the name of the LORD our God." Happy birthday Ez! Thank you for blessing your father each day for the last sixteen</span> <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: medium;">years. You have always been, and will always be, your Dad's "main man." </span></b>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-3654329786493708182016-04-04T09:55:00.000-07:002016-04-04T09:55:31.405-07:00Less and Less Clumsy
<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-weight: bold; language: EN; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-ascii-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Before leaving Senegal to return to the US for our several months of Home Ministry Assignment we began preparing ourselves for “reverse” culture shock. Culture shock is the initial “shock” that you feel when you enter a new culture where things are new, different, and, well, “foreign.” You are shocked because you don’t really understand how life works and how society functions so you begin to feel a bit overwhelmed and lost. And culture shock, to one degree or another, is almost inevitable as you move to a new country, especially one as different as Senegal is from the US. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-weight: bold; language: EN; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-ascii-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But “reverse” culture shock happens as you return to your passport country after several years abroad. While living cross-culturally for several years your heart, mind, and body have been busy (maybe even consumed!) with adapting and fitting in to your new culture. New sights, new sounds, new tastes, new routines, and new experiences begin to take root in your life to the degree that when you return to what used to be home, you find that “home” feels a bit foreign; a bit more foreign than familiar. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-weight: bold; language: EN; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-ascii-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Etiquette is different, social norms and expectations are different, personal interactions are different. You come back “home” and find that you feel a bit clumsy as you go through the normal paces of life. Everything takes a bit longer to process and you always feel like you are a step or two slower than everyone else around you. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-weight: bold; language: EN; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-ascii-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>And oh the choices! Every menu seems like a Webster’s Dictionary after living over three years in a place where most things aren’t available. And it’s true that the<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>cereal aisle at Wal-Mart can almost make us break out in a cold sweat as we stand face-to-face with the towering wall of breakfast options. (And by the way, a big “Thank you!” to whoever invented the touch-screen soda machines! That one really threw us for a loop! But seriously, does anyone really need that range of options just to get something to drink?) <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; font-size: 15pt; font-weight: bold; language: EN; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-ascii-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-tab-count: 1;"> </span>But overall, we are doing great. We are loving seeing family and friends that we have missed while in Senegal. We are loving connecting with local churches here that love the Gospel and have a heart for the nations. We have truly been loved on by these churches in ways that have deeply touched our family. And Hosanna has finally stopped asking if each place that we stay has hot water (“Yes, honey, they have hot<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>water here at this Holiday Inn.”). And day by day, by God’s grace, our family is becoming less and less clumsy here in America.</span></span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-37083977929609323712016-02-15T05:11:00.000-08:002016-02-15T05:11:07.187-08:00Lessons Learned <span style="font-size: large;">Certain truths are “known” at a certain level in our mind:
we affirm that yes indeed these things are true. But then, after having been
forced to live and lean on and rest on and seek shelter in these truths, they
become “known” in a deeper and more profound way. They are not any truer than they
were before, it’s just that lived truths have a way of etching themselves more
deeply on your heart and soul. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">All of the lessons that the Lord has taught me in
Senegal I already “knew” before we ever boarded the plane three years ago. But
after our experiences these truths have taken on a greater depth of meaning in
my life. </span></div>
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</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Loving
is hard, but it’s the most important thing.</span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">We
live in a very, very spiritually dark world. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Lost
men are blind men. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
enemy’s greatest weapon is fear. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">God is
not in a hurry and He is always at work. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">God’s
common grace is evident everywhere. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Home
is a place yet to come. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Reaching
the world with the Gospel takes everyone. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Wisdom
that comes from God is priceless. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Dependency
is horrible; interdependency is precious. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Acts
of love communicate fluently in any language. </span><o:p><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></o:p></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Ambiguity
in our life drives us to walk by faith. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">God
wastes no detail in our life in forming us into the image of His Son. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Everything
is always grace and grace is always sufficient. </span></li>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;">
</span>
<li class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; tab-stops: list .5in;"><span style="font-size: large;">Security
and safety are only found in Christ and never in our circumstances.</span> </li>
</ul>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-83458982858884767532016-01-01T05:37:00.002-08:002016-01-01T05:37:57.790-08:00Football, Fist-Fights, and Fitting In
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">It’s
not easy being a teenager and trying to fit in, no matter where you find
yourself. But it is particularly tricky when you are the only American boy in a
village of several thousand. Soccer (or football as it is known here) is a HUGE
deal, especially among the youth. Ezra, who is now 14, began playing soccer
about a year-and-a-half or so ago in an attempt to bond with the boys his age. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">While
he began playing in front of our house with his friends, he gradually got
better and more confident and began playing at the big field in our part of the
village. This, however, did not always go so well as this put him around other
teenaged boys that did not know him. And teenaged boys are not always the
nicest, especially towards those that are obviously very different. Most days
Ezra would return home from the field having nearly<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>been in a fight and having particularly been
preyed upon by a group of boys from another people group who seemed to thrive
upon harassing the “toubab” (white person) at the field. But each afternoon Ez
would put on his cleats and leave for the field to train and to play. And his
parents would pray that God would protect him and teach him what it meant for
God to be his defender. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">In
God’s providence, the village organized a tournament for the boys aged 15 and
under. The coach of the team for our corner of the village asked Ezra to join
the team after the first game and Ez was more than excited to do so. When Ez
told us the news we did not know whether to cheer or to throw-up. We knew it
was a great opportunity for our son, but we also knew that it would come with a
great deal of criticism as he would be playing in front of several hundred
people. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">When
the day of his first match arrived we were all a bit nervous. His coach put him
in to start the game and for his first game he played okay. But each time that
Ezra got the ball there were audible cries of “white boy” in the local language
and any time that he did anything less than perfect he was met with laughs and
mocking from the large crowd that had gathered to watch the game. After the
game Ez was discouraged, but vowed to train harder for the next match. His
parents, while supportive, half wished that he would quit. We shared what had
happened with one of the Diola believers here and he said, “You know he is
really easy to spot on the field: 21 black players and one white boy!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">The
important next match would determine if his team would be seeded first for the
semi-finals and it was against the team with the boys that gave Ezra the most
trouble. Ez did not start the game, but was put in at the very end of the match
with just a few minutes to play with his team down 1-0. After about 45 seconds,
Ezra scored the tying goal that assured his team of the first seed! And when he
scored the goal the sidelines cleared out and everyone ran out onto the field
to celebrate with Ez. And in that moment he was no longer the “white boy” on the
team, but was just another teenaged village boy. And his parents praised God. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg177ldxjDEgQLOyubHq_TH198WJ21ibGbW-B1W4owLDQlFaoNNyJotOr4LcgalRhLuB8OfHE78rQZypyRk0CE4nEPI9QCTlqSlsRinuKMMoXpKwtJCm8t3ayRibKSloGNVIrv1xEwZ2Nw/s1600/P1180994.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg177ldxjDEgQLOyubHq_TH198WJ21ibGbW-B1W4owLDQlFaoNNyJotOr4LcgalRhLuB8OfHE78rQZypyRk0CE4nEPI9QCTlqSlsRinuKMMoXpKwtJCm8t3ayRibKSloGNVIrv1xEwZ2Nw/s400/P1180994.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Ez’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>team made it all the way to final game where
they would play for the championship. In the second half, with his team up 1-0
but with the other team playing very hard, Ez scored the “</span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;"><i><span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;">but d’assurance</span></i><span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;">” that assured the
championship for his team. And when he did once again the sidelines cleared and
even the organizer of the tournament ran out onto the field to celebrate. After
the game, Ez’s coach gave him the captain’s armband and asked him to receive the
trophy for the team. And everyone was happy for him to do so. <o:p></o:p></span></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt; mso-pagination: none;">
<span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"><span lang="EN" style="font-family: Arial; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-weight: bold;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: large;">Now,
everywhere we go in the village or even in the surrounding villages, they know
Ezra. He is known as “Le Buteur” (the goal-maker) and has become quite the
celebrity. And, after a lot of courage on his part and a lot of grace on
God’s<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>part, he really fits in. Now, he’s
just one of the neighborhood kids; no difference at all. And we all stand
amazed at the grace of God!<o:p></o:p></span></span></span></span></div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span style="mso-arabic-font-family: Arial; mso-armenian-font-family: Arial; mso-currency-font-family: Arial; mso-cyrillic-font-family: Arial; mso-default-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-greek-font-family: Arial; mso-hebrew-font-family: Arial; mso-latin-font-family: "Bradley Hand ITC"; mso-latinext-font-family: Arial;"></span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-56710256401813284332015-08-19T14:46:00.000-07:002015-08-19T14:46:21.421-07:00Feeling the Weight <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Most days we feel the weight. It's the weight that comes from living in a country that is 95% Muslim. It's that weight from looking into the eyes of your friends and neighbors and even the stranger on the street and knowing that in the deep recesses of their heart there is no hope.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXBtuPX6N92RDOCEqn23j0gh-Hp70m0NgOfZ7oKorN5DO8BppKE7S-jlVmfT-jNAJ-bBBjdMM0uEqf-xmIDpmlpSQ2rXDbExxIzA6GF3vJP8gzgMG0w_NDXCh6GiaK1sWC3jtnMNfCdA/s1600/mission_senegal_2015_1004.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="265" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRXBtuPX6N92RDOCEqn23j0gh-Hp70m0NgOfZ7oKorN5DO8BppKE7S-jlVmfT-jNAJ-bBBjdMM0uEqf-xmIDpmlpSQ2rXDbExxIzA6GF3vJP8gzgMG0w_NDXCh6GiaK1sWC3jtnMNfCdA/s400/mission_senegal_2015_1004.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">It's a weight that comes from sharing life with a people that you dearly love, a people that have captured your heart, yet have never tasted the goodness and the grace of the Lord. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">It's a weight that grows heavier with every call to prayer from the mosque that we hear and every person publicly praying that we see. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">It's a weight that comes from telling spiritually blind men to look to Jesus and be saved, knowing that the blind cannot see. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">And sometimes we wonder where the weight comes from. Is it a messenger from Satan meant to discourage us? Meant to make us see the vast task before us and think, "What's the use?" </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">Or is it Jesus teaching us to see others as He does so that His compassion might grow in our heart and His unfailing love might move us to action. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">So with tears and prayer and the hope of a multitude from every tribe and tongue one day before the throne, we let the weight of the lostness around us drive us again and again to the Gospel. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;">For the Gospel is not only their hope. It is ours as well. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-58861221257556105882015-08-02T11:45:00.000-07:002015-08-02T11:45:27.493-07:00Being Maimouna Toubab <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-fHMJ-M7ptbICAvFZSH2bt-Lto0YHX06GG3aKrwXjA-Sc_hMQlSi9vh-om9sq6g3TRosWj8xplUqodhgepv44ioX5h3yy6Eu7q3dDIkZ3cVixFYpEVn_1DKt5Pmf6PytuRhjCSO_-pvc/s1600/DSC_0737.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-fHMJ-M7ptbICAvFZSH2bt-Lto0YHX06GG3aKrwXjA-Sc_hMQlSi9vh-om9sq6g3TRosWj8xplUqodhgepv44ioX5h3yy6Eu7q3dDIkZ3cVixFYpEVn_1DKt5Pmf6PytuRhjCSO_-pvc/s1600/DSC_0737.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">*I am reposting this today in honor of Hosanna's 8th birthday. Happy Birthday Maimouna Toubab! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Hosanna’s African name is Maimouna
and it also happens to be the name of her best friend who lives beside us. To
differentiate between the two “Maimounas” the family of her friend calls
Hosanna “Maimouna Toubab” (Toubab means “white person” in the local language)
and her friend “Maimouna Noire” (Noire means “black” in French). While we have
all adapted well to our life in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Senegal</st1:place></st1:country-region>,
Maimouna Toubab truly has immersed herself into life here. Much of that comes
from her young age when we left the States (she was four when we moved to <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Canada</st1:place></st1:country-region>) as well
as the unique personality that God has given her. But overall, being Maimouna
is a unique experience unto itself.</span><br />
<br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtI4owKa8FiNPFmrD33S0jzvyk_GO2bvK_OoqxqR2_rAFUIL8mPDje8T1EknEcjUCpQfZI5ziBBvd4fH_k42JGx32VIOZbsA226QsXdx_mjdOXCmt-zGNyctIwUZaxET0rj9GPXn3vK4/s1600/P1170260.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFtI4owKa8FiNPFmrD33S0jzvyk_GO2bvK_OoqxqR2_rAFUIL8mPDje8T1EknEcjUCpQfZI5ziBBvd4fH_k42JGx32VIOZbsA226QsXdx_mjdOXCmt-zGNyctIwUZaxET0rj9GPXn3vK4/s1600/P1170260.JPG" width="300" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means being free.
Free to run. Free to dance. Free to get dirty. It means being free to eat fruit
right off the tree and to even climb up the tree to pick it yourself. It means
being free to smile, free to laugh, and free to explore. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that when you
play with your friends you seamlessly transition between three languages, none
of which are the language of your home country. It also means that sometimes
you struggle in school because your head is filled with words and phrases and
concepts that you don’t use in your English home school. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means eating rice
nearly every day is normal and you’re not even scared to eat off of the fish
head in the bowl. It means you’ll try rat and that you want to try monkey. It means
that eating five mangos a day during the rainy season doesn’t seem like too many.
</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that shoes are
always optional, however you can’t leave home without wearing a long skirt. It
means that you are the only blond haired, blue eyed girl for miles and miles
around and that getting a lot of attention goes with the territory. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that playing
with your friends at their house means helping them work and laughing while you
do it. It sometimes means that you wash your friend’s hair and help them take
out their braids. It means that when your friends play at your house the few
toys that you have get shared among everyone. Being Maimouna means that you
have to invent a toy “rental” system, where a borrowed toy can be exchanged for
a new one the next day as long as it is brought back in semi-working condition.
Being Maimouna means that you likely have fewer possessions than every friend
you know in the States, but far more than any other child in the village where
you live. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0O-sP8BQoDV-8qP-XLeMSCN6zRzIbEtG2Za-5KXlFrFQjZOx3XF98IzV99oz2r8cur4ng4ZItf1ZAEkWJXFdysYRqMuu7oi6BbH7sFNAK-ujzJUfAzl1na8W25g5evyRB0H7Sg6HLUc/s1600/DSC_0990.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX0O-sP8BQoDV-8qP-XLeMSCN6zRzIbEtG2Za-5KXlFrFQjZOx3XF98IzV99oz2r8cur4ng4ZItf1ZAEkWJXFdysYRqMuu7oi6BbH7sFNAK-ujzJUfAzl1na8W25g5evyRB0H7Sg6HLUc/s1600/DSC_0990.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that you play
with animals like chickens, ducks, goats, sheep, pigs, and the occasional
parrot and monkey. It means that when your Daddy catches a live mouse in the
house that you beg him to let you keep it as a pet. It means that sometimes
when you pour the leftover rice from lunch out back, when your parents aren’t
watching, that you purposefully pour it out on top of your bare feet so that
the chickens and the free-range pigs will eat it off of your feet because it
“kinda tickles” and the pigs are your “friends.” </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that you can
wear a pretty “princess” dress and still play in the dirt and get filthy with
your friends. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that you live
between two worlds: the world that is the inside of your home where everyone
shares the same language, religion, and skin color and the outside world all
around you where no matter how well you adapt you are still different. And it
means that sometimes you don’t exactly know where you fit in the best. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88wWZC6oLs6DGQgm6TPIZPuBP5s-9twDRMdAVxHlLpl2uRoiRVw86IyYDUQmb8UjXsTiIe04i6EA2MdG5y0pIlzm311GeRQ9fMimq4Dy3tsuxim6GWOmmoN78MoUgXGGPJzao0WBOGpo/s1600/DSC_0118.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="263" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88wWZC6oLs6DGQgm6TPIZPuBP5s-9twDRMdAVxHlLpl2uRoiRVw86IyYDUQmb8UjXsTiIe04i6EA2MdG5y0pIlzm311GeRQ9fMimq4Dy3tsuxim6GWOmmoN78MoUgXGGPJzao0WBOGpo/s1600/DSC_0118.JPG" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that you have
to be patient. It means that going to the market in the village is a mile plus
walk one way. It means that “going to the store” in Ziguinchor is two hours in
the truck one way. It means that as your family tries to love those around you
it sometimes looks like sitting outside and talking for hours on end. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that you
occasionally ask about what things are like back where the grandparents live. And
you don’t always understand it when it is explained to you. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Being Maimouna means that your
parents pray for the day, in the not too distant future, when you will once
again make another transition into another culture to go to college; the
culture of your passport, but not the culture of your life. But being Maimouna
means that the God of all grace goes with you and helps you to make sense of
the things that don’t seem to fit at times. And because of that, being Maimouna
Toubab is not a bad place to be. </span><br />
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The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-18062248539110871942015-07-25T03:50:00.001-07:002015-07-25T03:50:30.922-07:00Building a Marriage for God's Glory <span style="font-size: large;">Marriage, just like all of life, is meant to glorify God. It is meant to picture the loving relationship between Jesus and His church (Ephesians 5:32). God created marriage upon the pattern of Jesus and His relationship to His bride the church, so the goal is to live and love in such a way that God is glorified and the relationship between Jesus and the church are portrayed.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />We all know that a strong, God-glorifying, Christ-centered marriage takes a lot of hard work and determination. It takes following the instructions of God, the One who created marriage in the first place. This kind of marriage does not come about by looking at the pattern of the world, but by looking at the pattern of the Word; the Word of God. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br />The building of a strong and lasting marriage is much like building a strong and lasting house. When you build a house you want to use materials that will make it last a lifetime. You want to work hard so that it will be built into something that will stand up to the test of time. And building a strong, God-glorifying marriage is no different. Psalm 127:1 says, “Unless the LORD builds the house, those who build it labor in vain.” Likewise we can say that unless the Lord builds the marriage, those who try to build it labor in vain.<br /><br />The building of a marriage, just like the building of a house, must start with a strong foundation. And the foundation that is needed in marriage is Jesus Christ. There is simply no other foundation with which to build a marriage upon. Jesus said, "Anyone who listens to my teaching and obeys Me is wise, like a person who builds a house on solid rock. Though the rain comes in torrents and the floodwaters rise and the winds beat against that house, it won't collapse, because it is built on rock.” (Matthew 7:24-25). The only foundation that will stand when the storms of life blow hard is the foundation of the Lord Jesus Christ. A commitment to Him as individuals and a commitment to Him as a couple is the only lasting, solid foundation that can support a marriage. He alone must be the rock.<br /><br />But a house also needs walls: something that builds upon the foundation and adds structure and support. And in a marriage what adds that support is love. The Bible says, “Love is patient and kind. Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude. Love does not demand its own way. Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of when it has been wronged. It is never glad about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. Love never gives up, never loses faith, is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance. Love will last forever” (1 Corinthians 13:4-8). The love that a husband and a wife should show one another should reflect the love that God has shown them in His Son, Jesus Christ. A sacrificial love that seeks the other’s good above one’s own. It must be a love that is predominantly centered not in each other, but in Jesus Christ where you love one another out of the overflow of your love for Him.<br /><br />Not only does a house need a foundation and walls, but a house also needs a roof; something to protect the house from rain and acts as a shelter in the storm. And in the building of a marriage grace and forgiveness serve as that roof. The Bible says, “Be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you” (Ephesians 4:32). The grace and forgiveness that the husband and wife show to one another should reflect the grace and forgiveness that God has made available through His Son, Jesus Christ. That is free grace that is not deserved or earned, but is freely and lavishly given. Grace that is not dependent upon each other’s performance or worth, but grace that reflects the blessings that we have been shown in Christ. Free and unearned grace must permeate your marriage so that it protects and shelters from struggles within and problems without. <br /><br />When these things are done, a marriage will be made that will be strong and that will last a lifetime. But above all else, it will be a marriage that will bring glory to God!</span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-33138017276107761502015-05-04T07:04:00.000-07:002015-05-04T07:04:41.820-07:00Speaking with a Perfect Accent <span style="font-size: large;">Gayle's French is not the best in the world. And she would be the first to admit this. Her conjugations are often confused, her tenses frequently a bit off, and many times she can't quite find the right word to say exactly what she wants to say. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<div style="text-align: left;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2G0U88xqkv_UxPPYTe-emf1ThkTe9_uOCQNbzAUtjR8rUBUYThFdNVwTg4Ou17SwH38mKBE9wpfDFdcH6DmbuH5wg7BdAWOosOpjAzVHFNac2WD-XYc_RetCGMawCootxzyTm4DlQJIA/s1600/IMG_1612.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2G0U88xqkv_UxPPYTe-emf1ThkTe9_uOCQNbzAUtjR8rUBUYThFdNVwTg4Ou17SwH38mKBE9wpfDFdcH6DmbuH5wg7BdAWOosOpjAzVHFNac2WD-XYc_RetCGMawCootxzyTm4DlQJIA/s400/IMG_1612.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Language learning does not come easy for Gayle. While life in rural Africa can at times be very challenging, she often says that the most difficult year of her life was spent in Canada at language school. After language school Africa is a piece of cake! Since Gayle's primary ministry is to care for her family and keep all of us well, healthy, and happy, she does not get as many opportunities to put her language into practice. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And having difficulty with the language can be discouraging. Outside of our home, all of our conversations are in French or Diola with a smattering of Wolof. But as the ever courageous Gayle likes to say, "I give 'em what I got!" as she seeks to communicate with those around us. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">But there is a language that Gayle speaks fluently. A language that she speaks with a perfect accent. And this language has a way of leaving a lasting impression within the heart that is even more profound than even the best French or Diola.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I see her speak it as she cleans off the dirty feet of a barefoot neighborhood child so that she can bandage a wound. I hear it as she sits with our neighbor and holds her baby as they smile and laugh together. The language is spoken without error as she cooks breakfast for and serves those who come to our morning Bible study. I hear perfect conjugations as she cares for her family in a place where life can sometimes be pretty tough. </span><span style="font-size: large;">She speaks this language fluently through sweat soaked clothes, dirty feet, a loving smile, and a tender touch. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">While my "good" French often clangs like a cymbal, Gayle fluently speaks a language that any heart, regardless of ethnicity, religion, or even language, can understand. She speaks the language of love. And she speaks it with a perfect accent. And when she speaks it, she sounds just like Jesus. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>"If I speak with the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal." 1 Corinthians 13:1</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>"Jesus said, 'A new commandment I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are My disciples, if you love one another.'" John 13:34-35 </strong></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-55204688474397125612015-03-26T10:47:00.000-07:002015-03-26T10:47:11.149-07:00Obama Underwear <span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Life in <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> can be hard;
especially on your underwear. </strong></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>We arrived in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Senegal</st1:place></st1:country-region> over two years ago with
what could be described as a moderate supply of underwear for all members of
the family. We even brought with us some “spares” that we kept tucked away
knowing that we could not just run down to the local Wal-Mart to pick up our
favorite Hanes and Fruit-of-the-Loom products. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong></strong></span> </div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>But two years is a long time in the life of a pair of
underwear. And after over two years of having our underwear washed by hand,
then hung out to dry in the scorching heat and under the blazing sun of
southern <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Senegal</st1:place></st1:country-region>
this has left a certain over-40 male member of our family with pressing needs
in the “personal clothing” department. We are talking being down to a worn-out
elastic waistband and not much else! </strong></span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1pljYz37DRpVnFtHgRgQzGQg6i3fUtinAQ0u21mx1Jff1VmPbdE-5O8rG6buob93tKlxHCp-0mG8zG6jhlcY8Wm5sMvf9UKw7tCV110ywPOsvSg-3YR8jkHs9JSy7252s5Jx0i9HaPas/s1600/P1180013.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1pljYz37DRpVnFtHgRgQzGQg6i3fUtinAQ0u21mx1Jff1VmPbdE-5O8rG6buob93tKlxHCp-0mG8zG6jhlcY8Wm5sMvf9UKw7tCV110ywPOsvSg-3YR8jkHs9JSy7252s5Jx0i9HaPas/s1600/P1180013.JPG" height="240" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: large;"><strong>However, while in <st1:country-region w:st="on">Senegal</st1:country-region>
you cannot run down to the corner <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placename w:st="on">Super</st1:placename>
<st1:placetype w:st="on">Center</st1:placetype></st1:place>, you can find
products here that are not available back home in the States. For instance,
things like Barack Obama underwear. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>So, we recently went to the market to do a little “male
</strong><strong>lingerie” shopping, hoping to pick up a few pair of Barack’s to make it through
the year. Knowing that sizing is not exactly uniform everywhere in the world,
and sensing that this would be a test run of sorts with the new Obama-of-the-Looms,
we decided to get two pairs. Though in the real world this underwear client
fits comfortably into a medium, here we settled on a large and an extra-large sensing
that Mr. Obama may run a bit small. We were pleased with the color selection
and chose a nice blue and copper color. The shop owner began by asking for
around ninety cents for these new Obamas, but we were able to negotiate a price
closer to seventy-five cents after I assured him that the fact that I was an American
did not necessarily equate to a love for the man whose name would soon encircle
my waistband. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Upon returning home the entire family was excited to see how
Mr. President was going to help the leader of their family resist the urge to
go commando for the foreseeable future. And I must admit, while I do not
personally support Obama, I was hoping that Obama’s new product would support
me!</strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>Unfortunately, our initial foray into the seedy and mixed-up
world of politics and undergarments proved to be a disaster. The package marked
XL actually contained a pair of large underwear. Yet another example of a
politician, in this case Mr. Obama, promising something that ultimately turned
out to be a bait-and-switch. Then, as we tried on the now two pair of large
underwear that we had, they were so small that Hosanna proved to be the only
family member capable of wearing them. Truly, the Barack Obama underwear
approval rating took a decided hit over this whole affair. </strong></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><strong>So, what’s the moral of this story? Never trust a
politician. And if you ever decide to send us a care package, a few pairs of
men’s medium Hanes would be greatly appreciated! </strong></span></div>
The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-12137284283824362672015-03-17T13:46:00.001-07:002015-03-17T13:46:50.485-07:00C’est comme ça<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">The phrase “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">c’est
comme ça</i>” in French literally translated means “it’s like that.” But when
it is said with a shrug of the shoulders and a tilt of the head it conveys the
idea: That’s just the way it is. Life is like that and we are powerless to
change it. “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">C’est comme ça</i>.”</span></strong><br />
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></strong> </div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Last night Abdoulaye came over to our house, as he does most
every evening. And as he was recounting the events of his day he tells us about
how the newborn son of one of our close mutual friends had died that morning.
His young wife of less than a year had given birth to a son last Wednesday and
the child was at the regional hospital in Ziguinchor. We knew that the child
was “sick,” but everyone kept saying that it was nothing serious and the child
would be back in the village in a day or two. But yesterday morning our
friend’s wife called him to say that their five-day-old son was dead. Our
friend had never even seen his son due to a traditional belief that says that
Diola men cannot see a newborn child who is younger than a week old; even if it
is their own child. They believe that if they see them the man will become sick
and begin to swell up. After telling us the news about the child Abdoulaye
shrugs his shoulders and says, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">C’est
comme ça</i>.”</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></strong> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">I went to see our friend this morning. I suspected that he
was at his “shop” where he serves as one of the village barbers. I found him
there and shared with him our condolences and the fact that our family had been
and will be praying for him and his wife. He then called his wife, who is still
in Ziguinchor, so that I could speak with her. She only speaks Wolof and
Mandinka so our conversation was quite brief, but afterward I asked her husband
how she was and he replied, “Oh, she is very good.” When I asked him what had
happened he told me that the child was born “tired” and with some kind of
sickness and that he just died. He told me that his son, the one he had never
set eyes on, was buried yesterday afternoon in Ziguinchor at the hospital
there. He then began to bemoan the fact that it cost over seven dollars to bury
him there when they could have done it much cheaper in the village. He then
said with a shrug of the shoulders, “<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Dieu
sait. </i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">La vie est comme ça</span></i><span lang="FR" style="mso-ansi-language: FR;">.”
</span>“God knows. Life is like that.” </span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></strong> </div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Other than my friend being a little quieter than normal and
the occasional woman stopping by to poke her head in the shop to say something
to the effect of, “Hey I heard that your baby died yesterday. I am sorry. Life
is like that,” life went on pretty much as normal. While I was there he washed
a young woman’s hair and shaved an older man. Not much seemed to be different. It
was just…<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">comme ça</i>.</span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></strong> </div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">When a newborn baby dies in our home culture we say, “What a
tragedy.” Here we shrug and say, “Life is like that.” Here in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Senegal</st1:country-region></st1:place> death is not the stranger
that it is back home in the States. Death, the thing that we run from and avoid
at all costs back in our home culture, is accepted here as a reality of
everyday life. People are born and people die. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">C’est comme ça</i>. Death comes many times without much warning and when
it comes it is accepted as just the way it is. To be born is to await death. There
is a certain familiarity with death here that we do not share back where we
come from. </span></strong></div>
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<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There are some things about life here in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Senegal</st1:place></st1:country-region> that I
will never get used to. <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">C’est comme ça</i>.
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The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-10264102719122494212015-01-30T04:22:00.000-08:002015-01-30T04:22:58.142-08:00730 Days in Senegal <span style="font-size: large;">Two years spent in Senegal translates out to 730 days. Just for fun, we tried to quantify what that experience was like. While some of these numbers are estimates (I mean let's be real, who actually counts how many mornings they eat bread?) we feel like this is a pretty good reflection of the...how shall we say it..."it's not bad, it's just different" nature of life here in southern Senegal. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">So, here is two years/730 days in southern Senegal by the numbers:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">690 mornings that we ate French baguettes. Yea, I am sure that some of you are like, "Wow, I would love a French baguette for breakfast!" Sure, baguettes are good, but try one for the next 100 consecutive days and get back with us! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3 times eating indoors in the village. Life is lived outdoors and we, like our Senegalese neighbors, eat all of our meals outdoors. So what were the three special occasions that kept us inside? One time we were all too sick to go out. Another time we were watching a movie on the computer and kind of hiding out. And the last time, well, we had something really good for dinner that we did not want to share! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">9 malaria tests taken. Since we are nowhere close to good medical care, when someone shows symptoms of malaria that seem to linger we give them a home test to be able to rule out or confirm malaria. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">0 cases of malaria in our family. Praise God all 9 tests came back negative! Which meant that we then had to break out the "medical manuals" to try and figure out what was going on. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">18 cases of "mystery rash." Yea, it is as weird, and maybe as gross, as it sounds. And everyone of us have gotten it at one point or another, although certain teenage boys among us seem to be the most susceptible. Thankfully, after a week or so, and some oil and cream being rubbed on it (and one time some fresh garlic; sorry Ez, we were trying our best!) it has always gone away. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">520 days that we have eaten rice. (There was a lot of debate on this number with some family members arguing that they were sure the number was closer to 720, but we safely settled on 520.) Yes, we eat a lot of rice. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">3 traffic tickets. One for talking on a cell phone while driving. Guilty as charged. (I also should have received a ticket for stupidity as I did this as I drove directly in front of the police station in Ziguinchor!) One for too many people in the truck at one time. Again, guilty. One for running a red light. Yea, I'm not so sure about this one. I am still amazed that there was actually a red light in Senegal that worked that I was able to run! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Too numerous to count: times we were harassed by police and threatened with a ticket. Suffice it to say, life can sometimes be a bit...complicated. I can now boast that I have seen the inside of numerous police stations in Senegal and the neighboring country of The Gambia. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">0 bribes given to police. Hence, the reason why I am well acquainted with the interior of police stations! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1556 meals prepared for guests who have eaten with us. Yes, we always have someone eating with us. We are convinced that there is some sort of high-pitched signal that can only be heard by Senegalese ears that goes out right before we are preparing to eat alerting those around us that "soups on!" Good Senegalese hospitality, which we try to practice in abundance, says that when someone comes over and you are eating that you feed them as well. So, most days we have someone with us when we eat. Not to mention the weekly times when Gayle and the girls cook for all those attending our Bible study. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">1 mattress eaten by termites. I know, this sounds really weird, and believe us, it was. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Way too numerous to count: insects killed, cold bucket showers taken, "different" things eaten (monitor lizard may top the list), times a member of our family who may or may not be joyfully skipping through menopause complained about the heat, gray hairs accumulated, times I honked the horn before nearly hitting a person, another vehicle, or an animal, and smiles and laughs shared with Senegalese friends. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">730 days of God's continued faithfulness. "Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed; Because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; Great is Your faithfulness" (Lamentations 3:22-23). Praise God, this is a number we can count on each day! </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-74604535118997096282015-01-30T04:16:00.001-08:002015-01-30T04:16:29.676-08:00Two Years Ago Today...<span style="font-size: large;">Two years ago today our family arrived in Senegal. We arrived to a new life, a new ministry, new challenges, and new adventures. We arrived holding loosely to our "plans" for ministry, anxious to see where God would take us and how He would get us there. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And two years is a long time that seems like just yesterday. But, conversely, two years is just a blink, that some days seems like an eternity. Such is the paradox of life and ministry in Africa. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">This morning over breakfast we all talked about the things that, by God's grace, we have seen and experienced over the past two years. In some of those moments we laughed. In others we cried. There were times of awe at the faithfulness of God. And other times of frustration and confusion. And everything, truly every other type of emotion, in between. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But for the last two years we have shared life. We have shared life with one another in our family in a closer way than ever before. (There is something about a living space of less than 400 square feet that can really bring a family close!) We have shared life with our Senegalese friends, neighbors, and brothers and sisters in Christ. We have celebrated with them, mourned with them, danced with them, and walked side-by-side with them for the last two years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But this journey has been shared with the God and King of the universe who promises to walk with His people. We, like Moses, dared not go out into the unknown in a foreign land without the presence of God, saying, "If Your Presence does not go with us, do not bring us up from here" (Exodus 33:15). But God has intimately been with us saying, "I know you by name" (33:17). Jesus does not simply send His people to go and do His work and accomplish His purposes; Jesus goes with His people as they are sent by Him. His is not an invitation to ministry, but rather an invitation to journey with Him and share life with Him in new ways. This, more than anything, has been the sweet grace of the past two years. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Only God knows what the future holds for us. We pray that it is full of continued opportunities to share the love and truth of God among a people who are without the hope of Jesus. But we are assured of one thing: the Presence of God will be with us. And that sweet manifestation of His grace to us in Christ is enough. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-24279522043738544812014-12-03T14:43:00.000-08:002014-12-03T14:43:15.313-08:00When Termites Eat Your Mattress <span style="font-family: BradleyHandITC,Bold; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: BradleyHandITC,Bold; font-size: medium;"><div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">On a seemingly daily basis we encounter….how shall we say it...opportunities to grow in patience </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">and perseverance that could only happen here in Africa. Whether it’s the six minute</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">task at the government office that instead takes six hours, or the “shake-down” by the local </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">law enforcement as they look for a bribe, or walking into your outdoor kitchen only to find a</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">chicken sitting in the middle of your casserole on top of the stove helping himself to lunch, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Senegal provides more than enough of these “growth opportunities” to quickly grey the hair</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">of even the most ardent saint as we “count it all joy” between clenched teeth!</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPNV4EmgAKydswSzs5EyFpq0QYYDLNez-jJOXGqJSnLM0ENjzd1WI3zNF_W28l-mV2iB_RFjo3Cn3d1OLAJnkR4RKrIyrwJmnV8mRbWkxK6-5yjIjY4q1KpZjfjZMt5YAubxcbuws1Dq0/s1600/P1170763.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPNV4EmgAKydswSzs5EyFpq0QYYDLNez-jJOXGqJSnLM0ENjzd1WI3zNF_W28l-mV2iB_RFjo3Cn3d1OLAJnkR4RKrIyrwJmnV8mRbWkxK6-5yjIjY4q1KpZjfjZMt5YAubxcbuws1Dq0/s1600/P1170763.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Our latest “growth opportunity” came as we were cleaning our bedroom/living room/</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">Hosanna’s school room (yes, we thrive on multifunctional</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">space here!). We occasionally have to </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">move out our mattress to clean due to the fact that</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">our ceiling is made from split mangrove roots with </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">dried mud caked on top of them and the mud is</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">very fond of falling from the ceiling. (Not the best </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">for those of us who happen to be “mouth-breathers”</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">when we sleep!) Anyway, as we moved our mattresses </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">to clean behind them we were surprised to</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">see that we had been feeding a large termite population </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">with our sponge mattress. The termites had</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">come through the floor and nearly devoured half of </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">our mattress that lays on the concrete floor.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_oYEVsaJiLvK0oyCgeuF72TGZdjLMpwa72FGa5TDa_-TtDaC8oaiFdte4cRchLZAGd2fm2w2GqN-jovUQsdEKV7p-22-3oa-4bclzrp-ABnkzhwMGx9-Xr0JkKbKRPJChqnqST4Qosg/s1600/P1170771.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio_oYEVsaJiLvK0oyCgeuF72TGZdjLMpwa72FGa5TDa_-TtDaC8oaiFdte4cRchLZAGd2fm2w2GqN-jovUQsdEKV7p-22-3oa-4bclzrp-ABnkzhwMGx9-Xr0JkKbKRPJChqnqST4Qosg/s1600/P1170771.JPG" height="400" width="300" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">While events like these can surely be frustrating, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">we try to keep it all in perspective, realizing that</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">these are just inconveniences and that God’s faithfulness </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">and His grace are larger than our difficulties.</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">To help us gain perspective, seeing that we were going to get rid of our half-eaten sponge mattress, </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">our neighbor asked to have it saying that she had a room with no mattress. As Ezra</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">and Matt took it over to her house she thanked them and gave them a blessing in Diola and </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">continued to say how </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">happy she was that she had a new mattress. Usually, you truly do not</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif; font-size: large;">have to look far to realize how blessed you are; even when termites eat your mattress!</span><br /></div>
</span></span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-75765389465851251912014-11-16T13:29:00.000-08:002014-11-16T13:29:01.845-08:00"I Don't Want to Be a Missionary!" <span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">*(We originally blogged this over three-and-a-half years ago as our family was preparing to leave Idaho to go on the road to raise support for the mission field. We just recently shared this story with Hosanna.) </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">With all of the change that is happening in the life of our family we have tried our best to spend time talking with our children one-on-one. We want to talk to them, and more importantly, to listen to them so that we can gauge how they are processing all that is going on. Our prayer is that God would be continually preparing our children to go to the mission field. </span><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECzh1y5AJGClU02PYy8m7wYZ3lbZuq61HwBc1jhrE1KZSS_TvQ9Bls7h2WiXJ_LC3oo0gEVWbWiYrrgAC9kYNx7vbHcqNd0t6kdIv0Zl0kWUZHPR9HGHi-yRFQR4JlOLEKDRJmA-L9n8/s1600/P1170649.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiECzh1y5AJGClU02PYy8m7wYZ3lbZuq61HwBc1jhrE1KZSS_TvQ9Bls7h2WiXJ_LC3oo0gEVWbWiYrrgAC9kYNx7vbHcqNd0t6kdIv0Zl0kWUZHPR9HGHi-yRFQR4JlOLEKDRJmA-L9n8/s1600/P1170649.JPG" height="300" width="400" /></span></a><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhq1m7Vn6_I29xz401Gje4McUbQM1HGRE__FvYUnEfufI7W3998fRYM794RVJLHstZvor0D6m5Vg2GRg02UWfKPr_yF9it_uaWsdXrSLI-sE5pO-g-JgbF4_qoQw-APsly4pjrfrqBvCnR4/s1600/P1070857.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; cssfloat: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><span style="font-size: large;"></span></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">In one such exchange Hosanna, our three year old, was sitting in my lap and I was telling her what it was going to be like to be a missionary. I was telling her all of the great things that God was giving us the opportunity to do and experience and how God is very loving to us to allow us to get to serve Him as missionaries. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But in the middle of our conversation Hosanna's face turned sour (those of you that know Hosanna know exactly what I am talking about). And she leaned right up into my face and exclaimed, "I don't want to be a missionary!" Now this came as an absolute shock to me because for the last year all Hosanna has talked about is going to Africa and living there. This is the same little girl that every time we would get into the van would ask if we were leaving for Africa now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">So I began again to rehearse all the great things that come with being a missionary. But she got right back up into my face again and said, "I don't want to be a missionary! I want to be an African!" It seems that God does indeed have her ready to go. Africa may never be the same!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><span style="font-family: Arial; font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">*UPDATE: Hosanna is currently doing her best to become an African!</span> </span></span></div>
The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-61380370039157360212014-10-19T07:04:00.000-07:002014-10-19T07:04:49.294-07:00Happy Anniversary Gayle! <span style="font-size: large;">Eighteen years ago today, when Gayle and I said, "I do," neither of us had any idea where the Lord would take our lives together. We were new Christians excited about our new life with the Lord and our new life with each other; just beginning to learn our identity in Christ and starting our journey of identity together. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">And it still seems hard to believe that was eighteen years ago. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">The greatest gift of my life has been the gift of Jesus Christ. He saved and transformed me, not because of me and what I did nor because of my merit or goodness, but because of His unyielding love and sacrifice for me. That is a gift without rivals and a gift that can only be given by God Himself. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">But second on the list is my precious wife, Gayle. And she too is a gift from God. From a human standpoint our "chance" meeting over 19 years ago was absolutely improbable. But from God's vantage point it was another piece of the puzzle of amazing grace that He was putting together in my life. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I often tell Gayle that I was in love with her from the first week that I met her. And she likewise always says that she was not nearly that quick on the draw. When we were dating we were separated by almost 200 miles (and as she would say, almost 8 years!), but thankfully with some time (and heavy doses of my charm!) she began to see the light! </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">We both became Christians about a month before our wedding and the presence of Christ in our marriage has made all of the difference in the world. It has been amazing not just to "grow in the grace and knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ" as an individual, but to be able to do so with the one that you walk through life with. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Our life together has not exactly gone as we scripted it in those first few years of marriage, but one of the mind-blowing things about Gayle is that she has always been great with where God has taken our family and our lives. She was okay when we left our "careers," sold our dream home, and took our two-month-old son and moved to Kentucky for me to attend Bible college and seminary. She was okay because she trusted God and (for this I am eternally grateful and overwhelmingly amazed) she trusted me. Later, when we moved even father away from family and familiarity to serve in Idaho she was equally happy and content. Very early in our marriage she once told me, "I am okay wherever we are because the Lord will be there and you will be there." She has always just wanted to be where the Lord would have our family be. And now we find ourselves in a village in southern Senegal serving the Lord Jesus and the Diola people here. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">Gayle has always served our family and those around us with amazing grace and care, but since being in Senegal I have seen this quality magnified. I have watched her sit with our neighbors and wrap sheep intestines around sheep stomach lining in an attempt to connect with the women for the sake of the Gospel. I have seen her wash clothes by hand at 7:00 in the morning so that she can begin homeschooling our children inside our home where the temperature is 95 degrees. And on a daily basis I see her clothes wringing wet with sweat as she manages our home. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And she does so without complaint. During one of our two mile walks under the hot Senegalese sun, </span><span style="font-size: large;">Hosanna once said, "Mama never complains. She must just complain on the inside." Indeed, I have found a virtuous wife who's worth is far above riches (Proverbs 31:10). </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;">I am sure that back home in Florida in our storage unit there is a wedding picture of Gayle and me. And were we to see it I am sure we would comment that we had much less grey in our hair than we do today and that we were much less wise than we are after 18 years together. But we could not say that we loved each other more that day in 1996 than we do today. For everyday we grow in love and appreciation for one another as we together live submersed the grace of God. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Indeed, I could go on and on with all of the ways that God has used Gayle to bless me and our family, but all of those roads lead me back to His grace. I am continually reminded of how undeserving I am of all of God's grace. I guess that is the great thing about grace: you get the overwhelming blessing that you do not deserve. And that is exactly what I got 18 </span><span style="font-size: large;">years ago when I married Gayle. Happy anniversary Gayle! Thanks for being the second best gift I've ever received! </span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-18375594019614070552014-10-04T02:29:00.000-07:002015-09-23T06:56:22.868-07:00Pray During Tabaski <span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow Muslims all over the world will celebrate "Eid al-Adha" or the "Festival of the Sacrifice." Here in</span><span style="font-size: large;"> West Africa the festival is known as "Tabaski." It commemorates when Abraham, according to the Koran, was willing to sacrifice his son Ishmael. (The Bible recounts this story quite differently and can be found in Genesis chapter 22.)</span><br />
<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1WJJhKCuixJl47Fv1vZsJcFkGhTNGBys9IVveU6lBRhigTNlDaYPnLlMC_o68OJCte2YjtHEmSbS8hDj-6394PV6j3biX1OcyEj8fdu65jHlQ3gWs6aBSw9NLjlKbkRCJ-yMGE9c43g/s1600/P1150996.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_1WJJhKCuixJl47Fv1vZsJcFkGhTNGBys9IVveU6lBRhigTNlDaYPnLlMC_o68OJCte2YjtHEmSbS8hDj-6394PV6j3biX1OcyEj8fdu65jHlQ3gWs6aBSw9NLjlKbkRCJ-yMGE9c43g/s400/P1150996.JPG" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: large;">Our neighbors performing their sacrifice </span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: large;">behind our house last year.</span> </span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-size: large;">Tomorrow morning our Muslim friends here in the village will go to the mosque to pray while the women and girls stayed behind at their home to continue to prepare for the days festivities. After prayers at the mosque, they will return home and "sacrifice" their ram. The oldest man of the home will dig a small hole in the yard of their home with a machete while the boys will go to get the ram. They then will hold the ram on the ground while their father slits its throat and the blood of the ram will spill into the hole. And they will do all of this with the hope that the spilled blood of this ram will atone for their sins of the previous year. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">And next year they will repeat the same process, just like they have done all of the previous years that have gone before. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">The Bible teaches that "in these sacrifices there is a reminder of sins every year. For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins" (Hebrews 10:3-4). Thankfully, the Bible teaches that Jesus "offered for all time a single sacrifice for sins" when He gave His life as a sacrifice for our sins on the cross (Hebrews 10:12). Jesus, the Lamb of God that takes away the sins of the world, provided for us a sacrifice that does not need to be repeated, but rather needs to be embraced, cherished, and trusted. </span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;">Pray with us for the Muslims of Diouloulou and southern Senegal. Pray that they might forsake the rams of Tabaski and embrace the Lamb of God that truly takes away the sins of the world. </span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-67251362655737119062014-06-03T03:47:00.000-07:002014-06-03T03:47:18.150-07:00Inje nimamang kasanken kujoolaay! <span style="font-family: BradleyHandITC,Bold;"><div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">“Inje nimamang kasanken kujoolaay” is Diola for, “I want to speak Diola!” As we work more and more in villages around Diouloulou that are totally Diola, there is a great need for us to use more Diola to communicate.</span></div>
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</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But this is easier said than done as Diola has over a dozen different dialects, with some of them being so different from one another as to be unintelligible! We have chosen to focus on Diola-fonyi as this is the dialect most understood. However, because our neighbors and language helpers speak another Diola dialect, we will likely pick up a certain regional “twang” in our Diola.</span></div>
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</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unlike learning French, with Diola there are no textbooks, no Rosetta Stone computer programs, nor handy tapes to listen to and repeat. Just a notebook where we write down what we hear, flashcards that we make, and the white family in the village speaking Diola like a two year old! In addition, we have to use our French to communicate with those helping us learn Diola. Needless to say, there are times where we are not sure that we can speak any language at all including English! </span></div>
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</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Several weeks ago, while wanting to tell my neighbors that I was going to the market to buy something, I mispronounced a vowel and instead told them that I wanted to go to the market and put a curse on someone! Believe me, that will turn some heads. Oh, the joys of language learning!</span></div>
</span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-85697247837816772532014-05-14T07:50:00.000-07:002014-05-14T07:50:55.459-07:00Want to Come to Senegal? <span style="font-family: BradleyHandITC,Bold;"><div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Tired of air conditioning and hot water? Frustrated always understanding everything that is being spoken to </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">you? Bored with the same old culture that you grew up with and have already figured out? Why not come to </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">southern Senegal and spend six months to a year with our family and shake things up in your life!</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHz06bWNezsSM2Nh74zTVXZq9dS2Po6KsPFs2tXs2EJq8wFvZ1UpXcx2QpzH4xVeKIeTN8t00bn977PppHlIHjDwx4N9zcXnzyv0ddgOj2Jo_kgqV0HJJT3zq8GYp51bUP5CYx1aykJ40/s1600/P1170347.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhHz06bWNezsSM2Nh74zTVXZq9dS2Po6KsPFs2tXs2EJq8wFvZ1UpXcx2QpzH4xVeKIeTN8t00bn977PppHlIHjDwx4N9zcXnzyv0ddgOj2Jo_kgqV0HJJT3zq8GYp51bUP5CYx1aykJ40/s1600/P1170347.JPG" height="480" width="640" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Okay, all joking aside, we are not actually looking for just anyone to come; we are looking for someone who </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">feels called of God to come and spend 6 months to a year with us helping with home school, home life, and ministry. </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We are looking for someone who is capable of working with Gayle in the daily home schooling of the children </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">and can essentially just become a part of our life and family during their time with us.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Maybe someone willing to take a semester away from college or someone in a time of transition between jobs. Or </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">someone considering God’s call to cross-cultural ministry who wants a first person experience of life on the mission </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">field. Or maybe someone who finds themselves later in life with a desire to serve. Whatever the case, we are </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">looking for someone who:</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>*Has a growing relationship with the Lord Jesus </strong></span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>*Is emotionally and physically healthy</strong></span></div>
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">*Feels comfortable working with and teaching children *Senses God’s call to come and serve</span></strong><br />
<strong><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">*Has the heart of a servant and wants to learn </span></strong><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"><strong>*Is flexible and can adapt</strong></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">There is much more detail that we could add, but this is a good starting point for you to pray about. If you </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">would like more information please feel free to contact us at allsenegalforchrist@gmail.com and we can start the </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">conversation and see where God leads. Also, feel free to share this with others that you think may be interested </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">in serving us and the people of southern Senegal. But most of all, pray that God would call the right person to </span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">come alongside us as we love and serve the Diola people.</span></div>
</span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-36423118183917946422014-05-13T11:23:00.000-07:002014-05-13T11:23:06.538-07:00Waiting on the Rain <span style="font-family: BradleyHandITC,Bold; font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: BradleyHandITC,Bold; font-size: medium;"><div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As May comes in we are feeling the daily increases in temperature. And as the temperature increases we are reminded that the rains are on the way and with them come the life giving water that the land desperately needs after over eight months of total dryness.</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">As we sow the seed of the Gospel among the spiritually dry and parched fields of southern Senegal we are praying for God to send His rain. In Isaiah 55:10-11 God says, “The rain and snow come down from the heavens and stay on the ground to water the earth. They cause the grain to grow, producing seed for the farmer and bread for the hungry. It is the same with my word. I send it out, and it always produces fruit. It will accomplish all I want it to, and it will prosper everywhere I send it.”</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">We sow the seed of the Word of God with confidence knowing that when God sends His rain a crop with be produced. In reading Jesus’ parable in Mark 4:26-29 we were recently reminded that the job of the sower is simply to sow. He is in the field, among the dryness and the thorns, with sweat on his brow, and he faithfully sows the seed. And then he waits, sometimes with tears (Psalm 126:5-6), for the crops to come.</span></div>
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</span><br />
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Recently, we have seen what appears to be God working in some of the fields where we have been sowing. Please pray as we sow the seed of the Gospel and show the love of the Lord Jesus to these individuals and families who are showing evidence of the Lord's work in their lives. Also, please be in prayer for the villages of Karongue and Birassou Bodiankounda as after months of prayer and relationship building the doors for further ministry are slowly but surely opening more and more. </span></div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div align="LEFT">
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Above all, pray that God would send His rain to water the seed of the Gospel that we are planting among the Diola of Senegal!</span></div>
</span><br /></span>The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-26741367559920016802014-04-23T02:24:00.000-07:002014-04-23T02:24:20.953-07:00A Hospital Visit
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">We step over a large pile of
burnt trash and walk by some people sitting on pieces of concrete blocks under a mango
tree as my friend and I enter the “hospital” to see his father. This building
in the “hospital” compound has obviously been constructed with western money as
its walls are painted and there is tile on the floor. As we enter the room
where my friend’s father lays on a circa 1960 hospital bed I am surprised at
how large, and how empty, the room is. There are a few other makeshift beds, a
small table, two plastic chairs, two old stools, and my friend’s mother and
another Diola woman. I glance at my friends watch and it says 3:45. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">As I look at his father
lying on the bed it seems obvious to me that his father is dying.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">His mother asks me about my
family, our recent trip to <st1:city w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Dakar</st1:place></st1:city>,
and what we think about the heat. She asks me how Maimouna (Hosanna’s
Senegalese name) is and when she is coming to see her. We smile and exchange these
pleasantries as if to ignore the fact that there is a dying man in our presence.
<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">My friend pulls a bottle of
water from his sack along with a bowl of food wrapped in a piece of cloth. They
are for his father, but I struggle to imagine that his father is capable of
eating. At the request of his mother we pull his father up into a somewhat
sitting position and they begin trying the make him drink. The water enters his
mouth and then quickly runs out onto his face, over his chest, then onto the
bed. The other woman suggests that when they pour the water in his mouth that
someone rubs his throat to make him swallow. This is done and it only causes
him to gag and begin to choke. Silently, I begin to pray. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">After several minutes and
over a quart of spilled water, this insane endeavor is abandoned and we lay my
friend’s father back onto the bed. His mother asks me if I will pray for him
and I move my stool beside him as I lightly rest my hand on his shoulder. I
pray for a miracle and ask God to give the family hope that can only come from
Jesus. It is Good Friday and as I pray I am reminded of how God can bring
amazing blessing out of great darkness and tragedy. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">No “doctor” has seen my
friend’s father though he has been at the “hospital” now for two days. I
suddenly feel guilty that I have ever complained about medical care back home in
the States. His mother seems very confused because, with the exception of an IV
that is dripping, unregulated, into her husband's arm, the hospital experience
is just an old bed in a large, hot room. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">We sit silently staring at
the sick and dying man for what must be an hour. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">A woman wearing a surgical
mask knocks and then pokes her head in the door and says something in Wolof.
She enters and I realize that she is not a nurse but a janitor. She is wearing
the surgical mask to protect her from the dust that she plans to make as she
sweeps the dirty room with a straw broom. The dust is thick in the hot air and
my friend motions for us to leave until she finishes. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">We sit outside on a wooden
bench under a mango tree for what must be another thirty minutes. I glance
again at my friend’s watch; it still reads 3:45 and I realize that his watch
does not work. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sitting outside my friend
sees someone that looks like a “doctor.” They too are wearing a surgical mask
and I wonder to myself if it is for medical reasons or to avoid the dust as
well. The man is maybe in his early thirties and is wearing “street clothes,”
though they are fairly new and well kept. My friend speaks with him for several
minutes before he rejoins me under the mango tree. He tells me that the man is
a “nurse” and that he is going to go speak to the “doctor” and ask him to come
see his father. We return to the room to wait. </span></span></div>
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</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Another at least forty-five
minutes pass. I do not take the time to look at my friend’s watch. Every few
minutes another guest comes in to see the sick man. They look at him, shake
their head, and make a familiar “clucking” sound that is common here when
something is disappointing. After some time, I count the people in the room and
we are now over fifteen. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Finally the doctor enters
the room. He is maybe thirty-five years old, but it is hard to tell. He is
wearing medical scrubs and leather shoes. I am pretty sure that the scrubs have
the name of a hospital written on them in German. He greets the family in Wolof
and then in Diola and then stands beside my friend’s bedridden father. He feels
his arms, his neck, and his abdomen, and then stares at the IV that is dripping
into his arm. He takes his blood pressure twice and feels his neck again. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">At this moment the doctor
has the look of a junior high school student who has been dropped in the middle
of a calculus class and suddenly called to the board to solve a problem. It is
clear that he has no idea what is going on with my friend’s father. He nods at
the family and then abruptly leaves the room. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">After a few moments the
“nurse” with the nicer-than-normal street clothes enters and says that the
doctor has ordered everyone to leave except the man’s wife and my friend. I
tell my friend’s mother that we will continue to pray for her husband and for
her family and then I leave the room along with the others. My friend, as is
the custom here, walks me out to the road as a sign of saying that he was
pleased with my visit and thankful that I came. I again promise our prayers,
shake his hand, and walk away. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">I walk the mile-and-a-half
home thinking about my friend, his father, and the struggles of living in an
ambiguous land such as this where you never really know what is going on. I
wonder what is really happening with my friend’s father, if it is something
simple that, were we in our culture, could be easily treated, and if he will
ever get better. And I pray. I pray feeling totally inadequate to help, but
trusting in the God of all grace to intervene. And I think about how most days the only thing that you can do is pray. </span></span></div>
The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-1772625831172641572014-04-17T05:59:00.000-07:002014-04-17T05:59:39.103-07:00I Can't Just Go On Eating Dinner
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Twenty years ago the country
of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Rwanda</st1:place></st1:country-region>
experienced horrors the likes of which we have no capacity to understand.
Throughout the course of 100 days from April 6 to July 16, 1994, over 800,000
Tutsis and some moderate Hutus were massacred in the Rwandan genocide. During
this period, more than 6 men, women, and children were murdered every minute of
every hour of every day for more than three months. We cannot comprehend such
suffering and loss. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">The movie “Hotel Rwanda”
tells a little of the story of the genocide of those days through the eyes of a
hotel owner who successfully saved the lives of over 1,000 Rwandans. But there
is a scene in the movie where two characters, Paul the hotel owner and a
Western photographer named Jack, discuss the fact that finally footage of the
atrocities and genocide and ethnic cleansing of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Rwanda</st1:place></st1:country-region> has made its way to the
media. While Paul believes that this media attention will awaken others to come
to their aide, Jack is much more pessimistic, and unfortunately, prophetic. Here
is their dialogue:<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Paul: “I am glad that you
have shot this footage and that the world will see it. It is the only way we
have a chance that people might intervene.”<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Jack: “Yeah and if no one
intervenes, is it still a good thing to show?” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Paul: “How can they not
intervene when they witness such atrocities?” </span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;"><br />
Jack: “I think if people see this footage they’ll say, ‘Oh my God that’s
horrible,’ and then go on eating their dinners.” <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">And indeed, in the case of <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Rwanda</st1:place></st1:country-region> twenty
years ago, the world saw what was happening and then most simply finished their
meal. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">Sadly, much the same
reaction is being seen today with the events in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Central African Republic</st1:place></st1:country-region>. The
current violence seen in CAR, however, does not come from ethnic tensions, as
was the case in <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Rwanda</st1:place></st1:country-region>,
but rather from religious tensions between the Muslim and Christian
populations. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">I recently attended the CRAF
Conference in <st1:city w:st="on">Dakar</st1:city> where Christian leaders from
French speaking <st1:place w:st="on">Africa</st1:place> came together to
exchange ideas and report on the status of missions in their respective
countries. The morning that I attended we heard a report on the status of the
church in the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Central
African Republic</st1:place></st1:country-region>. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">As our brother from the CAR
stepped up to the podium to give his report, he said that he wanted to show a
short five-minute video to begin his presentation. He then added that if anyone
had a heart problem that they may want to excuse themselves during the video.
This disclaimer was met with a few chuckles from the audience as some wondered
aloud what could possibly be so disturbing as to affect those with a weak
heart. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">And then he started the
video and we immediately understood his warning. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">The video was taken by a
Muslim man with his cell phone and it showed he and several others massacring
about a half-dozen Christians in broad daylight in the market. And they did so
with machetes. In an orgy of hatred and violence, this man had captured these
brutal acts of murder as these Christians were literally beaten and hacked to
their public deaths. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">And this happened because
they were known to be followers of Jesus. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">The video was so raw and so
incredibly graphic that I felt sick to my stomach. I, along with many others,
could not watch it all and I had to sit with my head buried between my knees
until it was over. Another man in the room passed out and had to receive
medical attention after viewing the five minute video. It was that shocking. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">As the speaker recounted
other atrocities that have been committed against the Christian community in
the CAR he said that now his work consists of encouraging the Christians to
love, forgive, and not retaliate. But he has not always been successful in his
efforts as many Christians have “fought back” and only escalated the violence. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">But as I listened to this
man, with the images of the video still fresh in my mind’s eye, I thought,
“What on earth can <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> do?” Though I am
in Africa, the <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Central
African Republic</st1:place></st1:country-region> is far, far away and the
problems there seem even farther away and more distant. So what can <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">I</i> do? <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">I can pray. I can plead with
the Lord for the violence to stop. I can ask the God of all peace to reign in
the hearts and lives of the people of CAR and in the hearts and the lives of
the Christians who want so badly to repay evil with further evil. I can pray
that the God of all comfort would comfort those that are suffering such
unimaginable loss. I can, and I must, pray. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Arial;"><span style="font-size: large;">But I can’t just go on
eating dinner as if I have seen nothing.</span> <o:p></o:p></span></div>
The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-60817608462355430532014-03-07T09:53:00.002-08:002014-03-07T09:53:33.380-08:00Give Me the Joy!
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">Unfortunately, when many people
think of Christianity they think of grumpy old men in three piece suits who sit
around with scowls on their faces as they talk about the long list of things
they don’t do because they are Christians. Now there is certainly nothing wrong
with older men, three piece suits, or the truth that the Bible clearly commands
Christians to abstain from certain activities. There is, however, something
decidedly wrong with joyless Christianity. Of all the people of the world,
those that follow Jesus Christ and know Him as their Lord and Savior through
faith in Him alone should be the possessors of great joy. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But sadly this is
not always the case. Quite often Christians plod through life just trying to
“get by” and make it through another day. Life seems overwhelming and the
thought of joy in the midst of a hurried life that seems chaotic at best and
depressing at worst seems unimaginable. The problem is that many are looking
for joy in all the wrong places. Some seek joy through their career and
advancement up the corporate ladder. Others look for joy in material
possessions and the accumulation of things. While some search for joy in
relationships or titles or power or influence or…you get the picture. In the mid-seventeenth
century Blaise Pascal wrote, “All men seek happiness. This is without
exception. Whatever different means they employ, they all labor to this end.
This is the motive of every action of every man.” The point is that the human
heart longs for joy and will not rest until it is found. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It may seem
shocking to some that the Bible actually commands us to seek joy. Psalm 32:11
says, “<span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;">Be glad in the LORD and rejoice; Shout
for joy, all <span style="mso-bidi-font-style: italic;">you<i> </i></span>upright
in heart!” The same theme of joy is seen in Psalm 37:4 which instructs us to
“Delight yourself also in the LORD.” Jesus Himself told His followers to
rejoice that their names are written in heaven (Luke <st1:time hour="10" minute="19" w:st="on">10:19</st1:time>-20) and to “leap for joy” as they await
their future in heaven with Him (Luke <st1:time hour="18" minute="22" w:st="on">6:22</st1:time>-23).
The Apostle Paul in his joy saturated letter to the Philippians commands
Christians to “Rejoice in the Lord always” (4:4). </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;"></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">But joy for the
Christian is not simply joy for joy’s sake. Nor is it a joy that comes from our
circumstances or the things that we possess. Rather, ours is a joy that is
found in Jesus Christ. The fountain and the source of the Christian’s joy must
be the person of Jesus Christ and what He accomplished for us in His life,
death, and resurrection. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">At this point some
of you may be wondering how the pursuit of joy can coincide and be reconciled
to some of the demands Jesus made in the Gospels. Jesus said, “<span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;">If anyone would come after me, let him deny
himself and take up his cross daily and follow me” (Luke <st1:time hour="9" minute="23" w:st="on">9:23</st1:time>). Later He said, “</span>Whoever of you
does not forsake all that he has cannot be My disciple” <span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;">(Luke <st1:time hour="14" minute="33" w:st="on">14:33</st1:time>). How can
self-denial, cross-carrying, and the forsaking of all things coexist with the
pursuit of joy? These twin truths are reconciled as we realize that it is in our
giving of all for the sake of Jesus that our joy is realized. The removal of
these counterfeit joys from our lives frees us to focus upon the only thing in
the universe that brings true and lasting joy: Jesus Christ. </span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;"></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;"></span></span></span><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">This truth is
driven home by Jesus as He taught a one verse parable on the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Kingdom</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Heaven</st1:placename></st1:place>.
In Matthew <st1:time hour="13" minute="44" w:st="on">13:44</st1:time> Jesus
compares the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">Kingdom</st1:placetype>
of <st1:placename w:st="on">Heaven</st1:placename></st1:place> (knowing Jesus
Christ) to a treasure that is buried in a field. A man found the treasure, hid
the treasure again, and then sold all that he had to buy the field so that he
might posses the treasure. He gives up all that he has to so that he might have
this field and thus gain the treasure. But what motivates the man to buy the field
in order to get the treasure? Joy. His motivation was joy. Because true joy was
not found in all that he possessed; true joy was found in the treasure. When
compared with the treasure everything else seemed to have no value at all
(Philippians 3:7-10). Jesus’ point is that knowing Him is more valuable and
more precious than anything else. And as such, He is the source of all true joy.
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">So
the next time you think about what a Christian is like dispel the notion of the
scowl and the three piece. Instead, think about the treasure in the field and
the joy that moves us to give all to obtain it. Think about Jesus “<span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;">who for the joy that was set before Him endured
the cross” that we might find our joy in Him (Hebrews 12:2). <o:p></o:p></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="mso-bidi-language: HE;"><o:p><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: large;"></span></o:p></span> </div>
The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5038186497942846305.post-73194955791987809902014-01-18T03:14:00.001-08:002014-01-18T03:14:29.833-08:00"The old man is dead"
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The text simply said, “The old man,
Lamine Goudyabi, is dead.” We met Lamine about a week-and-a-half before I
received the text. We were visiting with a friend in the <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:placetype w:st="on">village</st1:placetype> of <st1:placename w:st="on">Birassou
Bodiancounda</st1:placename></st1:place> and we were getting a “tour” of the
village. A real tour of a small village in southern Senegal means that you stop
at the home of all of the “notables” of the village to exchange greetings, chat
for a bit, and usually receive a small gift of oranges or peanuts from their
garden. This is how you say “Welcome!” in our part of the world. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;">Our tour took us to the house of
Lamine Goudyabi. This visit was a little more special and a bit more important
because our family name here in <st1:place w:st="on"><st1:country-region w:st="on">Senegal</st1:country-region></st1:place>
is also Goudyabi and Lamine and his family were the only Goudyabi’s in the village.
</span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__hdA1PWIKv-vMJK47i7wYuAXCarDzSHcbUpcvrFGijOakUwitnUOC49ymKMRvwgbkBbsSNTQQltDgvQp0LhfpTHEw71CkydPK_eCfDzAdEpPdSix3Ya5R1vVuhyphenhypheneTIqiYul3W2RvkLM/s1600/DSC_1525.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh__hdA1PWIKv-vMJK47i7wYuAXCarDzSHcbUpcvrFGijOakUwitnUOC49ymKMRvwgbkBbsSNTQQltDgvQp0LhfpTHEw71CkydPK_eCfDzAdEpPdSix3Ya5R1vVuhyphenhypheneTIqiYul3W2RvkLM/s1600/DSC_1525.JPG" height="263" width="400" /></a><span style="font-size: large;">Lamine was seated on a mat outside
of his house with an older man and a young boy. They were chatting, drinking
tea, and shelling peanuts. After exchanging greetings we joked about having the
same family name and how we were all related: us the white Goudyabi’s from <st1:country-region w:st="on">America</st1:country-region> and he and his family the African
Goudyabi’s who had never travelled far from southern <st1:country-region w:st="on"><st1:place w:st="on">Senegal</st1:place></st1:country-region>. Since it was our first
trip to the village we had our camera with us, so we asked him if we could take
a picture of him to remember our brief visit. Of course he obliged us and we
took several photos of him and the young boy sitting on their mat. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;">After getting the photos printed we
showed them to our friend from Birassou Bodaincounda and told him that we
wanted to return to the village to give them away in person. He is in the
middle of his preparations for some tests at the high school, so he told us
that we would plan a day in the coming weeks; a day to go back and revisit the
folks that we met and give them their pictures. </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;">The next day I received the text
telling me that Lamine Goudyabi was dead. He had gotten sick and had been sick
for a few days before he was taken to the “hospital” in a nearby town where he
died. My friend attended his burial in the village. When I asked him all of the
general questions that we would ask in our culture after such an event, such as,
“How is the family?” he just shrugged as if to say, “This is the reality of
life here. This happens and we move on.” </span></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">
</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 150%; margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: large;">I am not sure what we will do with
our picture of Lamine Goudyabi and the young boy sitting on their mat. Maybe we
will give it to one of Lamine’s widows when we visit the village again. Maybe
we will find the young boy and give it to him as a way to remember Lamine. Or
maybe we will just keep it. Maybe we will keep it as a reminder that time is
short and that the message of the Gospel is urgent.</span> </div>
The Boyd Familyhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13740694808393332067noreply@blogger.com0