Change

Change is good. Especially when it brings about greater efficiency. Blogspot has not allowed for much of that from Togo. So, I am changing to:

http://martykoonce.wordpress.com/

Please come see me there. Thanks and God bless you.
I'll try harder to keep it to ten minutes.

God's time is time

This is an odd sounding proverb in English, I must admit. It is something that the Watchi people say often when an event has occured after a long wait or has happened surprisingly quick. I have grown to like the phrase because of the honor I feel it shows God in aknowledging his soveriengty. The Kabiye team who are based out of Kara, Togo are celebrating the arrival of their new teammates Brett, April, and Caden Emerson. The Emerson family have waited, planned, prayed, and waited some more over the last several years to come and work with the Kabiye, and now they've arrived. They stopped by our house in Tabligbo along with the Reeves family for an overnight visit on their way to their new home in Kara. It was amazing just seeing them on Togo soil after all this time and I am excited about the impact God will have on the Kabiye through them and the encouragement that their arrival will bring the team in Kara. I guess it was God's time.

Blogging again after all this time

An incalculable amount of topics have passed through my mind in the last three weeks since my last blog, but due to the unforeseen circumstances that seem to ironically catch us off guard so often, I have been blog-less. Sorry for those of you, assuming there are some of you out there, that had become regular readers. We are back on-line and are gearing up to muse away. Jesus is doing some really exciting things in our lives here in Togo and we look forward to sharing those experiences with you. I hope this new year will be great for you. God bless you.

Language

This is such an important daily focus of ours even after 9 plus years of being in Togo. We live in English at home and Eve outside our home. Occasionally we get stuck in the "but NO!" all French situation and our pride suffers greatly as we stumble and bumble along. When we got to Togo it was all consuming, language that is. For those of you who know me well, you know what I'm saying. The old eat it, sleep it, and breathe it. I forgot one very important thing, though. I did not even consider the reality that I wasn't the only one who would need to speak the other languages. I did not even consider our kids. I thought, well, you know they're brilliant, like Louise and I. They'll pick it up through absorption. I didn't consider the fact that for all these years they have sat through three hour long worship services not knowing a thing that was being said and singing songs that were rendered meaningless because they didn't have a clue what they were singing. We taught them the basic greetings and salutations, and then wondered why they shied away and wanted to stay home most of the time. If an Eve or Watchi person did approach them their reaction was that of partial tolerance at best. I kept wondering what we were doing wrong. I wondered why our sons were missing out on the great blessings of knowing and loving these people we lived among. It all came down to language and my not recognizing that my family is here as a team. You know, the old "it's all about me" problem. So, this last summer, while the boys thought they should be playing X-Box, they got to suffer through daily language class. It was taught by Rigobert who is a student in the University of Kara. I would love to say that they thanked me for it, you know "getting" to go to school all summer, but alas .... they did. They actually thanked me. That's the kicker. They saw the need, too. I found out that they had longed to be able to communicate as well. Upon asking them what their favorite / most useful phrases have been, they answer (in Eve), "Dzo yi afeme (Leave, go home!)" or "De asi le nuti nye (Get your hands off of me!). It looks like we'll have to work a little on the relationship aspects of it, but hey, praise God, they speak and they love it!

Baseball in December

While on a stateside visit in Virginia in the fall of 2002 I found myself musing about the differences in the lives of our children brought about by our living in Africa. Many of the dissimilarities brought to my mind made me smile. It's unusual in the states for the boys to be charged by an elephant and in Africa we have adventures such as that annually. There are the cultural aspects as well to consider of being able to communicate in many different languages and also the reality of seeing daily how the rest of the world lives. But, then I saw some boys cycling along the sidewalk of the park. They stopped after a tour and began playing ball. My heart ached. I realized that I had no hope for my boys to be able to just go out and have a tour of town or stop by the park to play ball with some friends for there is no park. At that time they couldn't even communicate with anyone that wasn't American.
Today, four short years later, Tucker, my oldest son, headed out the gate at three this afternoon with his baseball equipment. He had gathered up twenty or so of his good friends from Tabligbo to go have a "sandlot" experience. I had to smile at the simple blessing of a private longing realized. I don't know if I was more amazed at Tucker's language skills or at the fact that these boys from Tabligbo, Togo, West Africa can shag flies and swing for the fence. Of course, the fence is imaginary, and the bases are just rubber squares thrown down on a soccer field, and the bat Tucker likes to use is one I made on my lathe out of teak, but you get the picture of a little American missionary absolutely comfortable among his Togolese friends. This is one of those small, but extremely significant blessings from God that encourage us to continue on.

Psalm 37:4 "Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart."

Taking Dad to the office

I always loved days when I went to work with my dad. I begged and pleaded to go during the summer months while school was out. It helped that at work Dad had tanks to play on, a firing range, a basketball court, pool table, all the chocolate the seargent would buy me and a German shepherd big enough for me to ride on called Brutus. Several times each summer the begging worked and I got to go. I was thinking about that today as Dad and I buckled up and headed down the road to Atitogon. My office isn't quite as exciting as Dad's was, but it still has its uniqueness. We met under our mud and thatch building in Atitogon that is beside Kossi's house. Of course, I had to show off Kossi's mud, thatch, and stick chicken house, along with all the other improvements he's made since Dad's last visit. We met with the four leaders we are training out there for three hours. Dad had to stand up a few times and wander around as he struggled to find just the right spot of comfort on his bench. He did get in some great encouragement to the leaders which I only altered a little in the translation and then Afii, Kossi's wife, fed us a delicious meal of rice, scrambled eggs, boiled eggs, and fish all in a red oil pepper sauce. Sadly, Dad wasn't served the fish head, so the adventure of it began to pale, but we did get to drive home in the dark which is always the most exciting of adventures in Togo. It was a good day of bring your Dad to the office. How blessed I am to have he and Mom experiencing with us our lives and work in here Togo.

A little randomness ...

This photo is descriptive of more than can be analyzed in ten minutes worth of musing. It speaks volumes about our lives in Togo. Taking chances; hoping for the best; what will one more hurt; sure we can do it; we'll take what we can get; and "Are we there, yet?" These are all potentional captions for this picture. The driver is trying to calculate how much total he's going to receive for carrying everyone. The copilot is trying to figure out who he hasn't collected from. The riders are hoping to get a volume discount. Those hanging on are wondering if they can jump off before they have to pay. Then, there's one foreigner somewhere in the bowels of the mass who is hearing something in the suspension that isn't supposed to be there and he's thinking to himself that there is something wrong with this whole scene. All together it's kind of a crazy prospect going somewhere like Togo and sharing Jesus. Never a dull moment and a new challenge, or at least an old one revised, meets us daily. I've stopped resetting my bedside clock alarm because of all the power outages. Today was our second day without water. I hear a trickle arriving in our bathroom sink at this very minute. Now that's a good note to end my musing on.

Looking like Christmas

The Harmattan winds and dust from the Sahara seem to be here to stay. This is our signal that the Christmas season has come. Ironic to me that such a phenomenon as this is now my annual manifestation for the holiday season in the place of the first frost, the falling leaves, or that white stuff that falls from the sky (which I wonder if it actually exists). Speaking of cold it was a ripping 75.2 degrees this morning when we awoke. In reaction to this we donned long pants, sweat shirts, and drank hot tea as we sat around and complained of the bitter chill. Making it even feel more like Christmas is the presence of Nana K and Papa K (Marty's mom and dad - AKA Kelly and Anna Koonce). This presence of family gives the truest sense of fulfillment of prophetic indicators that the Christmas season is upon us. We've loaded all of the seasonal music on our I-pods, decorated the tree, and put up the lights. Truly, its beginning to look a lot like Christmas. I wish you could be here to experience it with us.

Sporting News

Well, we have returned to our domicile in Tabligbo after a great extended weekend of Thanksgiving (yeah, we're a week late on that one) with our northern team in Kara, Togo. What a weekend it was. It was topped off by the annual event of Sports Camp for the kids. This year we couldn't allow any recruiters to attend based on the fact that we don't want any of our kids seduced away to the states by promises of free trips to McDonald's, all you can eat pizza buffets, and seven figure incomes. It was a spectacular show of talent in the three sports showcased this year of baseball, soccer, and basketball. To my sons' deep disappointment football was not on the roster this year because of budget cuts and time constraints. Seriously, it did give us dads and moms a chance to cheer our kids on in English; extol the virtues of sport in general to these young athletes; and make several life lesson parallels to following Christ (which they might actually remember until next year's session). Our thanks to the Kabiye team for hosting us and all the parents who coached and encouraged as well as those fine athletes who participated heart, body, and soul. By the way, for those of you still debating silently about me calling myself an occasional golfer. I give in. You win. I realized this when a close friend commented that his explanation of my use of the adverb occasional was when I find the occasion to go. Secondly, my mother so graciously gave me a Christmas ornament this year that said, "I only golf on days that end in 'y'." Okay, I admit it, I golf semi-frequently.

The middle-aged conspiracy

It seems someone from CNN must have read my blog this week for they have responded with an article of their own that stands as a distinct contrast to my theory on middle age. You can read this article for yourself in "Americans consider 60's middle age". This interesting article shows just how scared everyone is of aging or maybe it just shows how distasteful the whole idea is to most of growing old. Instead of counting our days the ideal seems to be to forget our number of days or at least through cosmetic surgeries pretend our days never happened. Whatever happened to the splendor of gray hair that we read about in Proverbs 16:31? I think about all the stupid mistakes I made up until today, and honestly my deepest desire is to grow beyond them and not make them again. In other words to grow up, mature, or maybe in this case grow old. Paul talked about the longing we have and the groaning we go through for our redemption to be realized. To me growing old is all about finishing the race, not restarting it over and over again with every face lift, botox, and lipo treatment. I do find it ironic that the first twenty years of your life you spend trying to pretend you are older than you really are and then the next forty years you spend trying to pretend you are younger than you really are, and in the end you wind up with sixty years of pretend and only a few years left to live a life of truth.

Beware of Danger

Time magazine had an article posted at the CNN website this last week about dangers lurking about waiting to deal that fatal blow. It spoke of things such as bird flu or mad cow that tend to begin panic attacks in so many. It then pointed out that the reality is we face dangers each day that we don't aknowledge nor do we prepare for with such simple strategies as wearing our seat belts, etc... In reality, life is fleeting. Today, as we drove up to Kara, we were reminded of the precarious nature of our lives here. We were traveling and hit a series of Togo's famous potholes at only forty miles an hour that launched one side of the car into the air as we fish-tailed back onto the road with our hearts beating a little faster and us slowing down to thirty for the next few miles. Then as we were making our ascent on the only mountian pass going to Kara and had passed seven disabled 18 wheelers blocking at least one of the lanes at various intervals along the way for this two lane road, the semi in front of us had to stop and lost his breaks at the same time. Those helping him were just able to get a wheel block behind his wheels before he careened backwards into us. After this because of the slow ascent our clutch plate overheated and began to fail us only 2 miles from the top. Well, we survived it all, by His grace and mercy, only to get a glimpse into how vulnerable we really are. This is a good thing. We sure pray more than we used to.

Philippians 4:7 Don't be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition present your requests to God.

Controversy not to be avoided ...

There seems to be a bit of controversy associated with my profile. Some of you out there, have taken particular issue with me referring to myself as middle aged. I must make it known that most of those who expressed yourselves regarding this were older than I, therefore maybe the problem is not with me but ... well that would only lead to more controversy so I'll stop with that. About the middle aged thing, Chris Rice, my son Taylor's favorite musician had a line in one of his songs recently that said, "teach us to count the days, teach us to make the days count. " That is my whole purpose in considering myself middle aged. If God blesses me to live to be 80, then from today, I have exactly 14,710 days until that birthday. That is not very many. I have a lot left to do before I get to bow personally before the King. So, I'm just trying to count those days, and make them count for Christ. About the other controversy. Compared to Tiger Woods who practices golf at least eight hours a day and hits between 1000 and one bazillion balls daily, I am an occasional golfer only getting to hit one or two balls over the course of eighteen holes once or so a week. This comparitively puts me as an occasional golfer at best. Plus, you know me, I'm a real laid back, take it easy, everything in moderation kind of guy. So, there. Check out this great looking occasional golfing family in the picture!!

A mysterious growth.

It is a mystery to me, the growth of the church. Sometimes it is so subtle and hidden as individuals mature. Then, their faith grows and begins to boil, spilling over into the lives of others. When this happens it seems that the church just explodes and you look around as I did at the women's conference this morning and just wonder, "Where did all these people come from?" Well they came from the likes of Agodeke; the new church in the Kpeve region that I never remember the name of; Afagnan Gbleta; Amengran; and others that have begun in the last year or so. Places that I've never visited, fields that I've never seen, and roads that I've never driven or walked on. How did it get that way? Who planted these crops? I don't even know some of these soul harvesters that have found these newly ripened fields. Yet, isn't that the way its supposed to be?
Now this has launched me onto a path of discovery to investigate this mysterious growth. I am immediately reminded of two verses:
Isa. 55:9 As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.
The second was brought to my attention by my favorite and most wise organic chemistry professor at Harding University, Dr. Don England.
Prov. 25:2 It is the glory of God to conceal a matter; to search out a matter is the glory of kings.

Aimer reconciles

Aimer, which ironically means to love in French, has spent most of the last twelve months verbally assaulting our fellow missionary, Hammer Afakule, of Vogan as well as inciting others to revolt against his leadership there. As I went through three months of reconcilliation teachings in Vogan my hope dwindled for a peaceful conclusion to the battle. Initially I longed for everyone to desire peace and to reconcile and I actually believed that many would, that is all except for Aimer. He would weekly bash Hammer and threaten him with legal action even to the point of rejecting him as a fellow believer in Christ. Just last month the elders from several churches descended upon Vogan in hopes of straightening things out. This brought a lot of shame on the church itself because these elders who were now helping them were all from smaller and younger churches. In their humiliation all of those in rebellion began to submit one by one to the wisdom and power of Christ's love, all except for Aimer who's verbal attacks even got stronger. My hope was yet rekindled for resolve, but for Aimer I had lost all hope and just prayed for God's mercy upon him. Just last night I found out that on the previous Sunday Aimer came forward and asked the church to forgive him for his rebellion and for all of the attacks. Hammer came and held him as Aimer confessed his sins and the church rejoiced. Whereas I had lost all hope for Aimer, God had not. Rejoice with us that Aimer can now live up to his name.

Luke 15:7 I tell you that in the same way there will be more rejoicing in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous persons who do not need to repent.

A new name

Among the Watchi the name you receive is usually based on what day you were born. That is, until the fateful day when you first “need” major assistance from the voodoo spirits. On that day your name usually changes to reflect whatever voodoo you have been linked to. This name then becomes who you are in more ways than one. There are, of course, other trappings that go along with the worship, but it is the name that really establishes your identity and reminds you of whom you serve as you are hailed daily by that new moniker. One of my dearest friends I have called Houndzo ever since I met him over six years ago after he began serving Jesus. About two months ago I noticed that those closest to him began calling him by the name Bertin. Upon some investigation I found out that the name “Houndzo” had been his voodoo name and that he was getting rid of that. Bertin had received his new identity in Christ six years earlier and has worked selflessly to plant five other churches in these last years, but had somehow forgotten to change his name. So, all of you out there who have regularly prayed for Houndzo, please stop. Don’t pray for him anymore, pray for Bertin, Houndzo died over six years ago.
Praise God for his grace that renews us daily and the frequent reminders of that renewal.

“Therefore if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation, the old has gone, the new has come.” (II Cor. 5:17)

Thankful

Being away from family and America on holidays such as Thanksgiving has always been a challenge for me. I remember so many gatherings at my grandmother's house with the family. It was always a time of laughter, storytelling, making new memories, and being family. It is easy to take for granted the "family" times. That is, until you are removed by an ocean or two. I have always enjoyed explaining the Thanksgiving holiday to my Watchi family. I usually get several Yowah's, Ya's, and Ehh heh's (these are all verbal expressions of agreement and wonder). They tend to be fascinated with America as it is, but when explaining Thanksgiving, they are moved by the fact that an entire nation would set a side a day for counting its blessings.
Is one day really enough to be able to list all the ways that he has blessed us? Definitely not, but it is a great day to begin a life of thankfulness.

May God give us all really good recollection of the myriad of ways that he has blessed us. May we be able to recount them and give testimony to his love.
I will begin my list here:
Thank you God for Jesus.

Lessons about legbas ...

One of the most stark contasts about being in Togo for us is the presence of all the idols. They are everywhere you go, many times with fresh sacrifices on them. The idols for the most part are well taken care of, not falling prey to too much disrepair. Regularly they have new shelters built to protect them from the elements and will have new ribbons of black, red, or white added in addition to new shells, spikes and or maybe even horns to give it that nice intimidating look. All this, of course, has spiritual signifigance but for the most part it is beyond me except for the stark reality that it is of the enemy and is representative of the forces of evil at work in this land. The overtness of the idols here is very disconcerting. It seems to represent a level of depravity or distance from God that you wouldn't expect any where else, particularly not in the United States. One thing we have learned, though, is that idolatry of the physical, overt kind is much easier to remove than that of the more insidious covert nature such as those of the heart. An idol is defined in Webster's as: a false god, or an object or person woshipped. Worship is then defined as: adoration, homage, or loving devotion. From what we read in Ephesians 5:5, I Peter 4:3, and I John 5:21 we see that anything that leads away from God amounts to idolatry. So, are there idols in America, and if there are, where are they? What are the things in our lives that lead us away from God? What are the idols that we need to rid our hearts of?
Mark 12:30 Love the Lord you God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind, and with all your strength.

AlDonald's

No, this is not a typo. I did say AlDonald's. It's where we go. It is the single arch and the closest thing to fast food we have in the capital city of Lome, Togo. You can get a burger there, but their speciality is the chwarma. This my friends is the delicacy of delacacies. It is nothing but pure wonderful garlic flavored sliced beef wrapped up with the best of toppings in a fresh pita. The golden arch"es" don't have anything on this. No biggee sizing here, though and your coke is served in the bottle. This last year they put in soft serve ice cream and A/C and we celebrated for a month. There are some naysayers out there that don't like the red flashing light above the one golden arch nor do they have the taste for chwarmas, but that just leaves more for us. There are those of you who are wondering, "Where's the BEEF in all of this?" Well, the reality is, that even AlDonald's begins to look good and seem rather normal after almost ten years. I rejoice in an AlDonald's happy meal and even miss it a bit while we are on furlough, because the bottom line is if I've got a chwarma in my hand then it means I'm where I'm supposed to be doing what I'm supposed to do. As my friend, Jim Woodruff, reminded me on furlough a few years ago, "Marty, there's no better place to be than the one God wants you in, doing what he wants you to do." After so many years, I can say that Romans 12:2 is true. God's will for me is good, pleasing, and perfect.

Sunday in Adankonou Kope

We had the most amazing feast today in the Atitogon cluster. Freshly smoked fish in a tomato, oil, and hot pepper sauce along with rice, black-eyed peas, roasted casava, boiled corn on the cob, topped off with fresh pineapple and oranges. Today was their annual celebration meal remembering the day when they turned from their idols and decided to follow Jesus. It was incredible hearing all of the testimonies of what God is doing in their lives right now. To consider the changes they have gone through since their repentance is almost beyond belief. It is more than overwhelming as we remember the hopelessness and the fear that they were redeemed from, especially as we observe them now filled with such joy, peace, love, and by his grace hope. My own hope for my sons to love Jesus and serve him was partially realized today as I watched and listened to my oldest son, Tucker, in the local Eve language, talk to our brothers and sisters gathered there about a celebratory feast begun by Jesus. Louise and I couldn't hold back the tears as we listened to him share and encourage. Our Adankonou family couldn't hold back the applause in their joy at his words. It was a really good feast. I wish you could have been there.

Inadequacy

Okay, I'll just put it out there. I feel really inadequate right now. How in the world can I expect to be the father, even just a decent one, to four boys? It doesn't make sense that God would be willing to entrust four young men to my guidance. To those of you who are tempted to dash in and encourage me at this moment, hold off for a minute or two. For those of you who are laughing because you heard that my father in a moment of aggravation wished upon me the blessing of six sons, as he put it, just like me, you need to just take a deep breath. For that matter, what in the world was God thinking when he sent me to Africa to be a missionary. I know that several of you wonder that also. Inadequate, weak, incabable are all descriptors that hit us at one time or another, sometimes all at once. A friend of mine pointed out to me several years ago that he thought Samson was probably a pretty whimpy looking dude who we would want to name Poindexter and try to give him a wedgie. That's probably why the Philistines messed with him so much. He said that God would have done this to show that the strength wasn't from the man, but the Spirit in the man. I'm encouraged already for the seemingly unstoppable, fearless, and"super" apostle Paul had moments of considering himself inadequate and weak as well (I Corinthians 2:3). Yet, he found that God's power is made perfect in his weakness, for in that weakness we lean not on ourselves but on God, therefore becoming adequately strong and capable. (II Corinthians 12:8,9) So here I am, delighting in my weaknesses, knowing that Christ's power is sufficient to bless these four sons as well as use me to bring light into the darkness of Togo. On a sad note, my wife just brought me to the realization that I exceeded my ten minutes to muse twenty minutes ago.