Monkey outside our room who stole our bananas. It is a familiar place to return. The trees, mountain side, and friends who have become like family. I was greeted this morning by a monkey at the window. No doubt he wanted in the room to pillage for any food. Oh there goes one racing across the roof. It reminds me that I am in Africa. I met with Buyela last night for the first time. The opening session began with a group tired from a full day of activities but there were six hands in the air when I halted the discussion over two hours later. The appetite for God’s Word is so strong. Their questions literally jumped from Genesis to Revelation. Few of them read the Word every day because it is so confusing or they are so tired. Standard answers too often given by busy Christians today. I walk the grounds of Cyara and remember former students and prior events. I sat and talked for hours with one student last year over on this bench. I watched teams dance and practice over here. African young people were repeating lines in German in preparation for a year of performances around Europe. Faces race through the pages of my mind. Students who have become like my own children as time has passed. Weddings being discussed by those who have been serving for over two years. God has finally led them to a lifelong commitment of ministry together. Four members of Buyela are repeating their year of service again. Snowey, Kekeletso, Clubby and Malcolm are familiar faces among the group. But there are new members to greet and get to know. Hadley, EJ, Thurston, Jarize, Emelda and Kaylin come from Cape Town to Nelspruit and various other communities throughout South Africa. There are bright young hearts hungry for knowledge and understanding. I see Freddie, Warren, Joe and Lolo who are training these young missionaries from over Africa and Germany. Freddie is repeating his year of service with I-Themba. The stories seem endless as they came up to say that I need to talk with you. There is one major difference this year. Cathy is at home while I am here. This is the first time we have been separated by the eight thousand miles of the Atlantic Ocean. We started Deeper Still Missions over three years ago. When I talked with her last night (it was lunch for her) she was feeding our grandson Ben. Gosh do I miss his smiling little face also. But the impending excitement of our third grandson’s birth is exhilarating. Zach is to be born in just a few weeks. Pray for Letitia as she prepares. I am thankful for your prayers. We will begin drilling into the Word of God and seeking the face of God today. Now begins several weeks of love below the surface in the hearts of many missionaries and Pastors.
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A rustle through the trees comes from the breath of God. Crows beacon over the valley and the next hill. Be Still and know that I am God. It almost seems like a trite term until you sit, listen, breathe deeply and recognize the glory of God and His creation. Unfortunately many do not know what sitting still means. The Rhododendrons take my heart back to the early 70s when I was a young Campus Life staff. My boys, Bean’s boys to be exact, were climbing the hills of Gatlinburg and sliding down the hillside surrounded by Rhododendrons. They laughed and called themselves the Rhododendron Rough Riders. It has now been more than forty years since I sat on that hillside with those good friends. Some have already g one into the presence of the Lord. I have lived for over sixty years and still miss the grandeur and majesty of the Lord at times. I still find myself seeking comfort from Him rather than willing to suffer with Him. I tend to forget that lost time never returns. Memories float in my heart with great joy and I want to reach out and touch them again. But they melt into the atmosphere like fog over this beautiful valley. Oh how easy it is to walk right by our Lord in our zeal to capture another memorable moment. The Kingdom of God is within you, says the Lord. Why then do we not turn to God with all our heart? The wind engulfs us at an unexpected moment. You take note that the weather is changing. I hear the crow at a distance and remember that God spoke to the birds and had them bring food to a prophet in the wilderness. Why do I worry that I will have enough to eat, enough to take care of myself when age overtakes my physical body? God misses no detail. Including my needs. Oh my faith is so weak and my heart is so self-absorbed. We find ourselves in a barren desert spiritually and wonder where is God? Life seems to have little enjoyment but only struggle and pain. God is at work tirelessly for our good. Our eyes can see only the darkness of a blinding light that is His presence. We stumble and walk clumsy around our daily experiences and miss the breath of God covering our every step. Instead we find ourselves irritated by the moving air around us and frustrated that comfort is not our first provision. I look at all the barren trees around me. God has prepared them for the winter. Nutrition has been drawn into the branches and trunk and the leaves are falling. This bare look is a careful provision of our Lord for the trees. It seems odd that the naked trees are being cared for in such a special way. They will be able to weather the winter storms because nutrition has been stored and prepared for the situations that will naturally come. I marveled at the beauty in the trees as we drove around the South. Yellow, orange, red, tan, brown and green was plastered all over the hills. Scientists say that the trees show their true colors in the fall. Photosynthesis begins to stop as the sun is less visible each day. The bright green we enjoy in the spring and summer goes away. The new color that becomes visible after the green process ends tells us the type of tree that is growing. There have been many times when I felt like the Lord stripped my heart and removed all that makes life good just like the trees. I failed to recognize his provision for the difficulties that were coming in my life. I failed to remember that great strength comes from suffering. I only want comfort. It is so easy to miss his presence and provision. So many of you responded to our request for prayer and we are deeply thankful. We desire to bring your heart alongside our experience here with the Lord.
Snow whispers among the winds. Red tailed hawks majestically fly over the valley below. We see the beauty of God in the mirror of life and recognize the book of holy teaching that we call nature. All of it shows the goodness of God. The silence is deafening! Yet God’s voice speaks distinctly among His creation. Cathy and I read from the Imitation of Christ as Thomas A Kempis writes, HE WHO follows Me, walks not in darkness,” says the Lord. By these words of Christ we are advised to imitate His life and habits, if we wish to be truly enlightened and free from all blindness of heart. Let our chief effort, therefore, be to study the life of Jesus Christ.[1] Thomas was a scribe in early 1400 and was charged with teaching novice believers how to follow Christ. His devotion book is the second most read book in all of history. The quote from above is the opening line of his book. We are deeply encouraged by your prayers before the Throne of God. [1] Thomas à Kempis. (1996). The imitation of Christ (1). Oak Harbor, WA: Logos Research Systems. Cathy and I are on a personal spiritual retreat in the Smokey Mountains of North Carolina. We just left Hampton Roads, Virginia and a great week with Sean and Christina Connable. We had a productive week of work focused on the Strengths Finder tests from Gallop, Inc. Both of us are encouraged by the plans laid for a Missionary Tool Box we designed. We also had some great laughs, fellowship and worship together.
Tonight we are at the log cabin of Charlie and Connie Dunn in the mountains. We would like to ask for your prayers. This is an essential time for us to review that last three years of Deeper Still Missions and reflect on the lessons that God has taught us. We will renew our goals for the future and refresh our personal walk with the Lord. Please pray that he will meet us on the mountain. Thank you. My father at the end of World War II. Life goes on as I sit in a flood of memories today. It is not a slow backup of thoughts from a lifetime but a torrent of rushing thoughts covering over sixty years. I sit with my mom and dad in a rest home. My mom is faithfully attending the needs of my dad who is struggling with the affects of Parkinson disease. Sometimes he remembers and sometimes he doesn’t. The sparkle of a smile and the squint of wit continue despite the struggles. The friendly wave of patients shuffling past the open door. Respect and dignity are the values most sought along with attention and a listening ear. The Encore Western channel continues to roll from one saga to the next. A quick pat on the arm and the words I wuv you between my mom and dad. Then a kiss on the lips. Sixty five years of marriage have built a bond that is inseparable. Daddy talks to people who are not there and recognizes work that needs to be completed in the corners of the ceiling and the yard beyond the window. His mind continues to process the carpentry work he conducted for over seventy years. He measures a length, from his bed, to cut some trim needed to complete his project. What a joy to watch as his mind continues down familiar paths. His work ethic and diligence to complete a job has not dimmed with the disease. Neither has his respect of others. I loved the sparkle of my dad’s eye when he put down a domino in the game of train last week. The same twinkle and crooked smile was typical of my dad when we played board games as teens. Parcheesi, Sorry and other games that he relished and just as often won. It was the same with Jack and Bonnie Matthews when they played a weekly game of canasta on Durfey street in Jackson, Mississippi. In moments like this a lifetime seems just like a vapor. But the recollections are rich with warmth, smiles, laughter and tears. I am deeply thankful for the gifts of God through my parents. My love of Christ came from their faithful attendance in church and a moment when I was eight years old in our living room. That was the day I prayed to receive Christ. I can only hope that my life will have such a deep affect in the lives of the missionaries we serve. Our return home from Africa has produced a significant amount of travel and activity. The last two months of ministry has continued in Missouri and Florida with the Area One Camps. What a joy to see hundreds of young people come to a deeper understanding of Jesus. At the same time multiple personal issues have swirled around us with the veracity of a tornado. We ask for your prayers as we walk these difficult paths. Danny standing with several pastors in Mpumalanga. This week has slowed our pace so we can breathe and digest many of the experiences over the last seven weeks. Memories pop to the surface like popcorn as we remember the missionaries, the pastors, the deaths, the services, the Bible Study, the people, the issues and most importantly our education about Africa. One morning in April I was riding with Ronas Marule to pickup some pastors for a 5 am prayer meeting. I remember going down dirt roads that were laced with channels washed away by rain. We bounced up and down as we crept along the road. Then the road turned into two tire tracks with tall grass in the middle. Grass was swiping along the bottom as we drove back in the bush to pickup one pastor. There were no lights anywhere but only the car lights contrasting the inky darkness. Ronas explained the pastor can’t walk to the road due to thugs who robbed him at gun point recently. We stopped and he looked into the darkness to see the pastor. Where is he? Then he stepped out of the darkness to open the car door. There is no running water at his home or electricity. Women in the area have to tote water for over a mile to use at home. I also remember seeing women bending over and using home made brooms to sweep the dirt of leaves and other debris. It took me back to the home of my grandmother in Walnut Grove, Mississippi in the 1950’s. African women made brooms of certain brush that grows near water and streams. They bind the straw together with cut inner tube strips to provide a handle. It was just like my grandmother who couldn’t afford a “store bought” broom. Another strong recollection comes from the orphans. There are so many children left on their own as both parents die from AIDS. One village area had over 100 orphans in each rural community. In Swaziland there were vegetable gardens organized for the orphans to work and grown some food. Busie’s mother who is now a widow organizes feeding for hundreds of children who have no adult left to care for them. Their troubles broke my heart and their smiles invited us in. We have met volunteer staff here in Cape Town that come from Germany, England, Scotland, Ireland, Holland and the USA. We had a great Bible Study Friday at their office. Last night one came to me and asked if Cathy and I would come to their group home for dinner and do another study. They were excited about the study on Friday. This last week will be full of mentoring, teaching and spending time with Weichardt family here in Cape Town. Remember Gio, a former member of Khaniysa and good friend of ours, as she lost her father yesterday. We also would covet your prayers for our family. We trust the Lord to guide you in those prayers. Cathy & Danny Sartin Missionary Rick Beck and a resident of the dump. We just returned from our third day at the city dump. When we arrived, some men were playing with a ratty soccer ball. People began to line up up quickly and they reverently listened to Rachel give a devotion. Another led in prayer and we began feeding. A group of four and myself helped serve the food. Others passed out bags of water. It rained hard last night so the smell at the dump was much stronger than yesterday. It was hard to walk without getting your shoes muddy. Today many thanked us and praised Jesus as the food was distributed. We saw many of the same family members today that were there yesterday. We visited a couple of their homes. The mother who had a beautiful six month old little girl was living in a dryer box. The two children were standing inside while the mother was working outside. Justin said, people shouldn’t have to live like that! We have no idea how good we have it said another student. |
Danny SartinFour decade veteran of youth ministry in churches, Youth For Christ and now is the Founder and Executive Director of Deeper Still Missions. Danny and his wife Cathy spend most of their time mentoring missionaries in Africa, Europe, Central America and North America. Future opportunities include South America and the Asia Pacific area. Archives
November 2023
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