SOME THROUGH THE WATERS,SOME THROUGH THE MUD…

With Mt. Elgon ministry, getting there is the most fun. O,K. To all of my fellow hymn lovers, I apologize. I couldn’t resist. I hate it when people mess with the perfect lyrics of great hymns, and now I have
done it.

I “pirated” the headline from the great old hymn, He Leads Us Along (G.A. Young, 1903). The hymn actually says, Some through the waters, Some through the flood, Some through the fire, but all through
the blood…

The word mud never appears in the lyrics of the hymn. But, I found myself singing it that way today as I balanced my weight against the door of our LandCruiser sitting at a delicate angle in a muddy ditch. Getting stuck is simply the price of admission to the Mt. Elgon Training Center during the rainy season.
But lets stop with the missionary drama and cheap play for sympathy already.

We knew we would get stuck this morning when we went to bed last night. The thunder continued
to rumble in the distance on Mt. Elgon, and the rain was coming down in inches. That’s why Pastor
Richard called the nearby farmer and had him on alert to pull us up the mountain. A lack of faith?
Naw, the LandCruiser is a beast but nothing is a match for the gumbo mud that has suction cups
grabbing your tires and dragging you into the nearby ditch. You simply build the extra half hour into your schedule and enjoy the 2 MPH crawl behind the tractor serving as our AAA Kenyan road rescue. It is such a common experience that neither Jeff Moser (my ministry partner on this trip) nor I even got out to film the escapade. I have tried to embellish this story before, but I just can’t seem to get it up to the travel woes of the Apostle Paul.

You can hear the singing about 1/2 mile before you reach the conference center. Were there an African section in heaven I’m pretty sure this is what it would look and sound like. The agricultural fields surrounding us are lush green this time of year.

The mountain tops are covered with rich folage, and the sky is a color blue that I don’t get to see
very often at home in Arkansas. Everything about this place makes my heart smile.

Much of the buildings and landscape change with each visit. The construction continues in its final
stages and the landscaping project is half done. The terracing of the hillside covered with the
beautiful flowers, plants, and trees are gorgeous even in their newly planted infant stages. I can’t
imagine what a little maturity will make this hillside look like under the bright, Kenyan equatorial
sunshine.

The shelves in the library are installed and beginning to be filled with book and teaching aids
provided by our ministry partners in the U.S. I can’t lie…I had to catch my breath seeing the
changes Richard and I have dreamed and prayed about for so long actually become reality.
But brick and mortar, landscaping and libraries are not what God called us to on this
mountain. Those things have no life and can give no life. That task lies in the hearts, minds,
and mouth of those singing just inside the doors.

This is the easiest place I preach anywhere in the world. The hunger level for the Word is off the
scale here. This mountaintop and every building is prayer soaked. The people worshipping and
studying travel here at great risk to their body and great cost to their schedule. This is not just
another nice religious activity for these men and women. This is their life-calling and equipping.
I taught in my first session and preached in the second. There is a difference. And, in the first
session I taught about that difference. I aimed at preachers today. Pastor Fred and Pastor Elijah
more than cover the instruction and equipping for spiritual teachers. I spent a good deal of time
training these preachers how to handle the invitation to Christ at the end of their sermon. There is
more than one way to do that and please God. But, my experience is one of being an abuser of the
invitation. In my early ministry I was paid to “draw the net.” Translating that out of “Christian-ese”
to normal language—I could get people to the front of a church at the end of a sermon. In the 80’s
and 90’s that made you a commodity in the religious circles I ran in. My early ministry is littered with
false converts. People who did what I asked and insisted would assure them of eternal life and a
home in heaven. There was just enough Biblical truth in my sermons for God to actually save a
great number of my hearers, in spite of my manipulative invitation tactics. But, I’m not sure how
many true disciples came from those overly aggressive invitations.

The teaching hit a nerve with the Kenyan preachers.
Spiritual abuse is not limited by borders, language, or culture. Men of God who live on the platform
do so at the peril of their integrity and the integrity of the Gospel they have been entrusted to
handle. It’s serious business. God thinks He deserves All of the glory. And, He doesn’t share at all!
The Q & A time was rich.

They “got it”. I can only imagine the discussion around the tables tonight at the conference center Maybe, just maybe…we will begin to see more disciples come from our preaching and fewer
decisions. I am committed to seeing that happen.
Watching the small groups gather for discussion today was the highlight for me. When Richard and
I sketched the rough design for the conference center out all those years ago, we added an
expansive wrap around veranda to the center. There is a million dollar view in every direction.
There is always a breeze on the mountain. And the agricultural illustrations that fills our Bibles are
played our in the fertile fields just below the training center.

Writing, reading, praying, and thinking come very easy on this veranda. I believed open and honest
discussions would flow from groups of preachers sitting on this veranda. I was right. They did.
The center is everything God put in our hearts. I wouldn’t change a thing. Except to have found Mt.
Elgon about forty years earlier in my ministry life. But time has no reverse gear shift. So, time to tap
send on this journal, shut the windows, fire up the mosquito repelling machine by my bed, and rest
for the return trip to Mt. Elgon in the morning. We might actually make it under the power of the
LandCruiser alone tomorrow. The road dries out really quick. It doesn’t matter. Watching the white
missionaries repeat our mud mistakes is cheap entertainment for our muddy road neighbors.
I’m tired. But, it’s the good tired of a laborer. I’m claiming the promise of the sweet sleep that
accompanies good, hard labor.

Thanks for sending me.

Your prayers = my fuel.
By, grace, your brother,
Mike Curry
Eph. 6:19-20