- Life is hard here. And yet the Christian leaders are largely ebullient and eager to see what God might do through their ministries in the challenge that is Lagos.
Getting off the plane a week ago in Lagos, Nigeria, I was benevolently assaulted with… Africa.
Everything was different for this relatively soft American. The smell is different. The colors are different. The temperature of the air outside the airport is different. The appearance of the sky is different. The aggressive offer of help from too many men (so they can make a quick buck) is different. The airport (or government) employees trying to gum up your entry for bribes is different. Law enforcement is different. The standards of public cleanliness are different. The infrastructure (probably adequate for a population of five million) can’t keep up with the estimated 20-25 million of the teeming masses (with thousand arriving daily) in one of the largest cities in the world. And on it goes.
But I keep going back (this is my fifth time), and especially to West Africa Theological Seminary, because the Christians and rising leaders here are… different.
They (as Jesus once articulated in the Sermon on the Mount) are hungry and thirsty for righteousness. Hungry and thirsty for knowledge. Hungry and thirsty for a deeper experience of the Word and worship. Hungry and thirsty for perspectives that can elevate the spiritual vitality of their people.
They somehow know that they are the hope of a nation that has been recently described as the current most dangerous place on the planet for Christians. The bulk of that suffering is in the northern area of Nigeria, not where Lagos is located, yet the pain of this bloody truth rests heavily on the minds of these students, professors, and administrators.
There are always easier and more comfortable ways to spend my time than to come to this nation in January. But I find myself returning again and again because of the tenacious yet humble disciples who sit in these classes. I kid around with my colleagues in Mississippi that my African students are a bit intimidating; when you tell them something practical and they resonate with it, they intend to apply it – today. This week. Now.
Next class session, you will learn about how your idea sailed…or didn’t.
They appreciate their teachers. I carry a computer bag with me from place to place. Except here, they won’t let me carry it (against my protestations). Whoever is closest as we walk out a door will grab it from me and take it to my next destination. One student told me: “You spoke of foot-washing in chapel, but the people in my church would never, ever let me wash feet, or wait on tables, or do something menial. They make sure I never have to.” He considered that a spiritual liability. American preachers – read it and weep.
This trip, I made the mistake of telling individual students how attractive their clothes were; when they go full-scale African, it is stunning. Alas, I am bringing home multiple garments because they have gone to great personal expense to outfit me similarly. They also love that an American professor might deem their clothing worthy to wear it in front of the students in his home country. (I will, regretfully, mute my praise in future visits. It is painful to consider how many meals they might miss because of my genuine admiration.)
They minister at great personal expense. Few have ministry positions where they work just one job. The vast majority do multiple things to make ends meet. (One of the best students gave me a list of about five jobs – which all sounded full-time to me – he holds in order to eke out a living.) But they love what the Lord has carved out for them: a chance to lead a platoon for God in their various corners of the city and nation.
One of the things that costs them (although they have never known anything different) is simply living here. A friend whom I met on one of my previous visits came calling. He lives across the city. I asked him how he got to my location and how he intended to get home. “Public transport,” he replied. Where do you access the transport? I asked. “I have to walk an hour” (and maybe three hours if traffic challenged his pace overly much) “and then ride another three hours” because traffic would definitely be oppressive while on the bus. And that was just for a couple of brief chats with visiting Americans whose company and counsel he deemed valuable.
Life is hard here. And yet the Christian leaders are largely ebullient and eager to see what God might do through their ministries in the challenge that is Lagos. Their hearts and their worship are enough to get them through their many hardships. They are certain that their best days are yet to come in the making disciples in this city and nation.
I admire them. So much.
Matt Friedeman
