Living among the rich…
“Believers who are poor should take pride that God has made them spiritually rich. Those who are rich should take pride that God has shown them that they are spiritually poor. The rich will die like a wildflower in the grass. The sun rises with burning heat and dries up the plants. The flower falls off, and its beauty is gone. In the same way the rich will die while they are still taking care of business”. James 1:9-11
My quiet time with the Lord this morning was just a prelude to what he was going to show me today. We journeyed into the Albion section of Montego Bay today. For our visiting team it was a tour of the city. For me it is the familiar pangs of sadness for the least of these that make up this area of our bustling resort town. Winding up the bumpy road into Albion is a journey that takes you about three miles from the beautiful beaches of Montego Bay that thousands of tourists visit every year. The air is clear, the water is crystal blue, the palm trees sway and the mood is joyful and relaxing. Not so in Albion. The gangs are ever present and the houses dotted on the hillside tell the story of a people who are poor and needy. Nestled in the middle of small homes and filth lies the St. James Infirmary and the Refuge of Hope. There is no fanfare, no busses loaded with tourists and little attention received for this community with such desperate need.
We venture into Albion often when we are on the island to love on the poorest of the poor housed in the St. James Infirmary. They are just what the name implies: infirmed. They are sick, homeless and forsaken or forgotten by family. The buildings are basic; cinderblock walls with screenless windows. The mens unit is just as wanting as the ladies unit. We sing to the ladies and read them scripture. On occasion we paint their nails, massage their arms. We always try to engage in conversation. They are not too many breaths away from eternity. Poor, sick, needy and forgotten.
James looks at these pitiful believers as rich. Spiritually rich. They’ve no family to turn to, no bank account to draw from and no strength to draw on. They are materially poor but they are spiritually rich. My sweet ladies at the infirmary are rich! Their hope and stay is in the Lord. The reading from James chapter one and verses 9-11 remind me that anything I have can vanish in a moment like the wildflowers are burned up by the sun. There is no boasting in houses or land but only in the sure hope we have in Christ. We are children of the King. One day the poor and infirmed of Albion/St James Infirmary will have new bodies and will be FIRST. For the last shall be first and the first shall be last. Jesus Christ will make all things right in that day that is coming. Miss Rose (in the picture with me)
and I will be walking and talking along the streets of gold together in our new bodies. Hallelujah!
These are just a few ramblings today from one tired Jamerican. Selah
We’re baaaaaaaaaack…….
Catching up from a long (many years!!) break from blogging….
God is gracious. Yesterday afternoon and evening provided me much needed rest inside an air conditioned room while Georgie and the team were busy at work going through our community in Bogue and inviting our people out to football (soccer) camp and our Family Fun Fest. God is working as the team made new contacts in the community and spread His love in many precious ways. This morning we got to love on the children, missionaries and aunties who care for the least of these at Jamaica Relief Children’s Home. I got to sit and talk to one of my dear friends, Ellen Shetler, who ministers there as a missionary alongside her husband Joe. Catching up with her is a breath of fresh air and a blessing always! Pray this afternoon as the football camp gets underway and as our mission team pours themselves out for the sake of the gospel. Pray for Andrew and Tanesha as they do the hard work day in and day out to reach Bogue Village with the gospel. Pray for our church as we continue the journey of completing the purchase of our new building (it is still in the government’s hands right now) and then preparing the building to be a place where God touches hearts and changes lives. This is not an easy life here my friends. It is a beautiful island with many beautiful people but easy is not part of their vocabulary. What you take for granted, they would love to enjoy for just one day. So when you pray today, lift our people up in prayer and remember all of these ramblings from this one very tired Jamerican. Selah…
Finding my place in my new normal….
I know it has been a very long while since I posted. Oh the places I have been since my last post. Places physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I guess you could say I have been living in a new normal.
Pretty much all of you have been following the journey we have been on in ministry. You went along with us on deputation, then you flew with us to Jamaica three years ago, and you have lived vicariously through our photos and updates along the way. You have shared with us in so many joys and blessings, and have wept with us in our heartbreaks and disappointments. I personally don’t know what I would do without you to keep pushing me along the way. You have held my arms up in so many ways….you probably don’t even realize it.
The journey pretty much started off with a bang…and then a bucket of tears back in August of 2009. We spent two years on the deputation trail in preparation for our journey to Jamaica. By God’s grace and the generosity of God’s people, we were able to board that plane on that balmy August day and cross the ocean to our new home awaiting us. All the excitement and packing had come down to this incredible moment. We hit the ground running in Montego Bay (well, that is after we spent over an hour trying to get through customs and then still ending up paying duty on a few of our belongings). With all the excitement of two college kids on their first assignment away from home, we were finally on the ground. Problem was, we weren’t college kids. We were two slightly past middle aged parents and grandparents who were now separated from all that was familiar by a vast ocean. There was no fanfare to welcome us, really not even a soul came to greet us. It was just us. So what do you think I did that first August day in 2009? Yep, I sat down with my head in my hands and cried like a baby. I know that is not spiritual folks, but that is what I did. It was a lesson in loneliness 101. Honestly? I kinda felt like taking my plastic and driving right back to the airport, buying myself a plane ticket, and flying back to NC. Disappointing, isn’t it? Just speaking the truth here though.
After pulling myself up by my boot strings ( or is that straps…..I’ve never owned boots with anything but a zipper) I threw myself into the work we were engaged in there at Fairview Baptist Bible College. I oversaw an English class ( to say I taught it seems kind of a mockery to the teaching profession), loved on the handful of students we had there, and helped my husband get the facilities in some sort of decent shape. We traveled with the students every weekend to churches around the island where we represented the college and recruited new students. It would be an understatement to say that those precious students breathed new life and energy into me. We had lots of laughs together, they corrected our improper use of the unwritten patois language, and became as our own sons and daughters. They hold their places in the most precious corners of my heart. I honestly don’t know what I would have done without them that semester that we lived on campus. I still melt when they call me “mummy”.
December of that first year blindsided me with severe illness. We had just moved into our flat in Montego Bay when a team of construction workers moved inside my head and began trying to hammer and chisel their way out. I truly believed, as did Cletis, that I had been somehow struck with perhaps the worst unending migraine known to humankind. After many trips to the “hospital”, morphine, tremendous weight loss and no help in sight….Cletis flew me home. It took me five and a half weeks to finally get well in North Carolina. Honestly, even the doctors don’t all agree on what went wrong. Whatever it was finally passed, but my emotions were shaken to the core. I can honestly say that I have never recovered from the fear of not having adequate medical care readily available.
2010 brought on a new challenge in our ministry…..planting a new church in Montego Bay. I’m not gonna lie…..I loved the whole process. I could not wait for the times when we went into our target area and rattled on gates to bring people outside to share Jesus with. Our strategy meetings with our core group of Jamaican believers were exciting. I got excited to see them excited! Launching the church and watching it grow each week was truly like watching a little baby grow. Seeing people acknowledge Christ as their Saviour brought so much joy. The planning of the church and the organization of the process has all along been sheer joy ( with some expected frustration of course). However, my health declined steadily even as my spirit soared. As new symptoms presented, I battled anxiety and yes….fear. It wasn’t long before the every day stresses of living in the Jamaican culture really paralyzed me with anxiety. And I know that fear is not of the Lord.
2011 found Bay Life just humming along. Cletis and I watched in amazement as the Jamaican leadership just stepped it up in every possible way. It truly is like watching your baby walk. The building was packed out, AWANA continued to grow, and souls were being regenerated in Christ. We chartered the church in April and had two baptismal services throughout the year. We continued to host missions teams from the USA doing VBS programs, work projects, football (soccer) camps, and humanitarian aid. God was working and we were the blessed ones to sit back and watch Him go. But my health declined and my fears increased with it.
October of 2011 found my husband and I sitting face to face with my neurologist in North Carolina for a heart to heart talk. We heard him say the two words, “Multiple Sclerosis”. His words were not exactly unexpected, we knew the possibility all along. There is something about hearing it though. I was all at once almost relieved, At least I had a diagnosis. And as they say, “You don’t die from Multiple Sclerosis, but you will die with it”. Seems comforting enough, right? We left his office armed with a diagnosis and a prescription for daily injections. I think we both kind of felt that now we could get on with things and move past the uncertainty. At least that is what we thought.
January 2012 was a hopeful start back in Jamaica. Our insurance company had now agreed to pay for a three months supply of my daily injections (over $10,000 worth) and we were oh so hopeful. Time away with the family for Christmas had been relaxing and I felt renewed. At least until we hit the ground again….and the heat set in…..and the mosquitoes feasted on us…..and the occasional sound of gunshots rang out again…and the constant smoke billowed through the windows, and the nerve pain squeezed my right arm and left foot. And then the all too familiar anxiety made friends with the pain again and rendered me pretty useless. By February I knew (and my family knew too) that the time had come to get me home to my doctors, climate control, and some r & r. I flew home on Monday and went to the doctor on Tuesday. The verdict was swift. He was not willing to release me to go back to Jamaica to live. He was kind, but firm. My emotions were both relief and utter sadness. I claimed Jeremiah 29:11……you know how it talks about God and His plans for me ….for good and not for evil.
That brings me to finding my place in my new normal. I am listening closely to my physicians. I spend time listening to my children and the wisdom they share with me. When I feel weepy, I hang out with my grandchildren and love on them. But beyond the physical realm: I am working on finding my place. I’ve been away for awhile. Things change, people change. It really is never the same.
In March Cletis met with our mission board, Baptist Mid Missions, to see where all this leaves us in our missionary endeavors. They have been so incredibly supportive and encouraging all along the way. They have moved us into a role of reinforcing (the church and college in Jamaica), recruiting (going on christian college campuses stateside and recruiting new missionaries for BMM,) and representing ( reps for BMM in churches in the Deep South, setting up mission conferences for churches who desire help, and speaking at churches). There are other opportunities too that are in the planning stage that we look forward to. We are still missionaries (that is our heartbeat), just living here and traveling in and out of Jamaica and expanding to other parts of the Caribbean. Pray that the transition will be smooth. We are excited about how the Lord has gone before us and made His plan clear for us in so many ways. I will travel as health permits (have been doing some of that even this week while Cletis is in Jamaica) and stay put when it isn’t good for me to travel. Pray that I will connect with a local ministry in NC that I can serve in when I cannot travel. Pray for Cletis as he spends most of the summer ( I have been cleared to go for two weeks…health permitting) with mission teams in Jamaica. You have been our cheering squad…..keep cheering us on in this “new normal”. We love you and thank God for each of you and wonder what we ever did without you!
“THE BEND IN THE ROAD IS NOT THE END OF THE ROAD….AS LONG AS YOU MAKE THE TURN” David Jeremiah
This is just an updated rambling of one very tired Jamerican…..SELAH!
If you have questions or if you are not yet one of our prayer partners, please contact us at missiontitus@yahoo.com. If you have connections to churches or christian colleges in Georgia, Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi, or Florida, please share them with us. If your church is desirous of doing a missions trip to Jamaica with us, please e-mail us. We are quickly filling up the schedule for 2013 currently.
“That Baptist Church…”
Time has quickly passed us by this year at Bay Life Baptist Church. It seems unfathomable that this little church was just a vision for us four years ago when we started our missionary journey to Jamaica. We resigned our church in North Carolina, went on the road for 18 months, and began our “Caribbean Tour”. We knew from the outset that the road would be hard but also felt that God would let us do nothing else but this..His plan.
The first core group “vision casting” meeting was held on the front two rows of Hillview Baptist Church here in Montego Bay. I guess you could say we were all a little “starry eyed” and also all a little scared of the task that was ahead. We were entering uncharted territory for every single one of us in that small group……church planting in Jamaica.
The next few months presented many challenges. Where would the church meet? It seems that every single housing scheme in Montego Bay was built with at least one plot of land designated for a church to be built on. But not Bogue Village. The developer, a self professed believer, was adamant that there would be no land designation for a church there even though there are several vacant lots still available. The next obstacle came with some opposition within our own ranks here on the island. We were the casual church, you don’t have to dress up to attend Bay Life Baptist. Some couldn’t fathom that worship could happen without suit coats and ties and skirts and high heels and hats. Our motives were then under fire. When we finally found a room to rent the price was steep. How would we pay the rent? Our personal mission account was tight. We were already in to overdraft every month before our next months support hit the account. Reality was setting in….and very quickly. But, God called us to do this. Cletis and Tammy Titus: church planters in Jamaica. No retreat, no reserves, no regrets.
We did, of course, forge ahead and on October 3, 2010 the Bay Life Baptist Church was born. After years of praying, months of door to door visitation, thousands of dollars spent on equipment (much of it generously given by churches and individuals stateside),and signing a contract to rent a room we couldn’t afford, we took the plunge. In our core team we had two missionary couples (including us), a medical doctor and his school administrator wife, a couple who were in business management in Montego Bay, a trash collector and his homemaker wife, and two Jamaican students who were fresh out of Bible College. It was a core team that had been crafted and assembled by God long before our American feet ever touched Jamaican soil.
Our first few months saw unbelievable crowds coming to church with souls being saved and lives being rededicated. Our team continued to go gate to gate every Saturday in the village and give out the news of the church and the message of the gospel. We had groups from the USA come in and work among us in children’s church, music ministry, VBS, soul winning, community service, and sports camps. We baptized ten at two separate baptismal services at the beach. We saw many come to Christ and be discipled. We started the AWANA program in January and have seen children come to know Christ and hide His word in their hearts. Our rent on the room has been paid in full every month by offerings received at church and our dear landlord has even allowed us to use empty rooms in the building for children’s church and overflow crowds at no extra cost. Our young Jamaican associate (who will be the Pastor of the church) has grown by leaps and bounds in depth and maturity. There has been so much to rejoice over.
Reality check: Satan hates Bay Life. Trust me, he doesn’t like what is going on here and he is rearing his ugly head. Now when we go door to door here we are followed by the Jehovah’s Witnesses who go right behind us with their literature and false doctrine. The Pentecostal church meeting down the road has begun to pray for Pastor Andrew’s salvation because “he is not Christian because he doesn’t speak in tongues or prophesy”. The mormons are blitzing the village with their cultic beliefs. Often when we go to a gate to speak to people in our village we hear this…”Oh, you’re from that Baptist Church down there by the meat market. I go to the other church”. Or we find now that if we are having some kind of outreach suddenly the little church down the road is having the same outreach and on the same day. Our quest for purchasing property in the village was met with disdain by the developer. He “generously” offered us ¾ of an acre of land at the backside of the village for $346,000 USD. We are in a battle of what I believe is straight up spiritual warfare at “that Baptist Church”. It is a battle for the souls of men and women and boys and girls. The cults are flooding in to Bogue Village. The little upstart churches now meeting there in various places are teaching salvation by works, by believing in their prophets, and admonishing our village to steer clear of “that Baptist church”.
I was very, very young but I have heard the story growing up of my parents and their missionary experience in the Turks and Caicos Islands. When they started their little church in our livingroom they began to get the same kind of opposition from other churches on the island. The Anglicans and Methodists began to label anyone who attended the new little Baptist church “Cooperites”. (My maiden name is Cooper”) They encountered spiritual warfare, a battle for the souls of people. I’m so glad they pushed through with lots of prayer and diligent work to establish the Calvary Baptist Church of South Caicos. It gives me a Godly example to look up to.
So, what shall “that Baptist Church by the meat market” do now? We just keep going gate to gate giving the gospel of Jesus Christ to anyone who will lend us an ear. We pray, we love, and we meet the physical needs as well as spiritual needs of our people as God allows us opportunity. We stand in awe as our people give testimony of the transforming work God is doing in their lives as they are discipled and taught the truths of God’s word. We keep listening as our AWANA clubbers recite the precious word of God to us week after week after week. We encourage our dear young Jamaican pastor as he matures in the Lord and takes steps to be the man God has for the future of Bay Life. Most of all we just give thanks to our Lord for allowing us to be the vessels He has used to plant “that Baptist Church”.
What can you do? We need your prayer more than ever. I don’t say that lightly friends. If you come, you will sense that same spiritual warfare I have been speaking of here. You can send a word of encouragement to Pastor Andrew through e-mail at baylifembj@yahoo.com. You can pray about what God would have you to do to help Bay Life find a permanent meeting place. Some of you can give, some of you can go. What is it that God is impressing on your heart? Only you can answer that.
So, there you have it. This has been the rambling of one extremely blessed and wordy Jamerican….SELAH!
The Road Less Graveled…..
I hate politics. I hate workplace politics, I hate church politics, and I hate what politics has done to our country (USA). I’m not kidding when I say I truly hate it all.
We are in an election year here in Jamaica just as the US is. No one here seems to know exactly when next year there will be the actual voting, but they all know it is coming. Know how they know? You can take a look at what is happening with our roads. All of a sudden our main roads (which are nothing more than potholes connected by a few paved areas) are being fixed. We are enjoying the benefit of it for a season. The sandy gravel (it’s called marle) to prep the roads is not a great underlayment and then they top that wavy surface off with 1/4 – 1/2 inches of tar. As you can imagine it doesn’t really take long for that to become pitted and torn up again. However, for now it is great. Keep in mind that this is the MAIN roads. Not the secondary.
You can see in the picture our road that we live on in Montego Bay. It is a good reflection of politics and its corruption. The top of our road is just one deep hole connected to another. The people who live in the house facing it just haven’t padded a politician’s pocket at this point. Then there is a stretch that they recently came through and paved. That home belongs to someone who DID contribute. And so it goes…..all the way down to our house, the non-bribing Jamericans. The road in front of our house is becoming pretty much a gully. <sigh> Mi nuh contribute, mi nuh bribe. So, there you have it. A visual image of what politics is.
Get the picture? How sad it is that this kind of behavior has so tarnished our country. This is just one example, one you can actually see. There are so many more that go on. You can bribe your way into or out of just about anything…..if you care to bribe. For those of us who don’t, life can be difficult. We refuse to play into the corruption that is destroying our Jamaica! Pray for us as we minister here in this culture that we will be in it but not of it when it comes to corruption and playing politics. For now, we are just traveling on “the road less graveled”
This has been the rambling of one non-bribing, tired Jamerican…. SELAH!
Where’s the rest of it???
Tomorrow will now be the third Thanksgiving day we have spent away from our family back in the USA. It seems impossible in some ways that we are now in our third year here but in other ways it seems it has been at least five years. You know what I mean….
We will spend the day with lots of missionary friends from the Montego Bay area. Twenty one of us to be exact. It will be our second time getting together with them on Thanksgiving day. Last year we had a group here from North Carolina so we celebrated Jamaican style, with jerk chicken, rice and peas, calaloo, and festival bread. It was fun, but turkey is definitely better.
Two years ago we were living out on the campus of Fairview Baptist College and I had promised to cook up a feast for them to show them how Americans celebrate this holiday. (There is of course no Thanksgiving holiday here) My first shocker was when I went to purchase the turkey. I paid $40 for a 12 pound turkey. YIKES! All in all I spent about $135 to feed eight of us. It was great food and great fun. All but one of them had never tasted turkey or pumpkin pie. Oh, and BTW…no canned pumpkin or frozen pie crust here. I made it all from scratch. I have to say that it was quite yummy.
Here’s the thing though. Jamaicans use turkey neck to season other things. All of them are quite familiar with turkey neck…but they have never had turkey. Which begs the question……..where’s the rest of it?? We laughed heartily at the table with our students that night pondering that question. You gotta admit….it conjures up a silly image in your mind. Is there a headless turkey farm somewhere on the island? Someone somewhere knows the answer to that question I am sure. I don’t know the answer but don’t have time to ponder on it much longer….I gotta go on a hunt for that headless turkey so I can stuff him and cook him up for lunch tomorrow!
This has been the silly rambling of one tired Jamerican….SELAH! <gobble, gobble>
Lessons from my little men….
Two little men came into my life this year via Africa. A year ago I didn’t even know their names, but the Lord already knew they would capture this Nena’s heart. The first time I saw their picture was in June of this year. They were two scruffy little orphans in mismatched clothes with two of the most gorgeous little black faces I had ever laid eyes on. Their smiles melted my heart immediately. It was easy to see why their future parents ( our daughter and son-in-law) had already fallen head over heels in love with them.
On Wednesday, October 19th I stood at a crowded Orlando Airport and waited (along with a throng of eager friends and our very large family) anxiously for the arrival of my two little men and their new mommy and daddy to arrive. It honestly seemed like time stood still for about an hour…..the minutes just couldn’t tick by fast enough. We held welcome signs, stuffed animals, balloons, and matchbox cars in our clutches so that we could show them in such a small way how much we all loved them and had anticipated this very moment. I can honestly say, I have never seen anything like that day at the airport. The pictures of those two little orphans in the mismatched clothes had already caused a host of people to be hopelessly in love with these two little men.
As they rounded the corner of the terminal, hand in hand with their new mommy and daddy, jubilant cheers erupted from the waiting crowd. You could see on their faces that they were both excited by the attention and scared to death by the sheer enormity of the event. They clutched their mommy and daddy’s hands, timidly smiled, graciously accepted each gift, and looked on with consternation at a new world in which they had never lived nor did they understand. They had come from Africa to America, Amharic to English, and orphans to sons in one fell swoop. In a word, it was overwhelming.
Since that day I have observed my little men both firsthand and from afar. I’ve seen their joy at being in their new home, and their sorrow at the loss of the world they knew. Their security of being with parents who love them, and their insecurity from the one who abandoned them. Their laughter and their tears. Their good behavior and their horrid behavior. Their compliance and their rebellion. It’s a story still being written, and I am the grandma reading it.
I can’t help but see myself in my little men. I am, after all, adopted as well. Not in the sense of my earthly parents, they conceived me and reared me. But I have been adopted into the family of God. It is also a very big family. I remember well the day I joined my new family back in March of 1974. It was a day of jubilation. No longer was I an orphan, but I was a child of God. However, it wasn’t long before I also thwarted my father’s requests of me. I sometimes still rebel against His will in my life. He has had to spank me a few times over the years as well. When He doesn’t give me what I want I sometimes cry. Even after 38 years as His child I question His authority in my life. I am so very much like my two little men. I see myself in them more every day.
I am sure that the lessons from my little men are not over. I am enjoying watching Summer and Shane parent them and using so much patience, love, discipline, and longsuffering that my Father has with me. Where would any of us be without the loving guidance of our Heavenly Father? So thankful for my Savior…..He has left us no longer orphans but sons! Praise the Lord!
All fed up…..
No, I don’t mean that I am full from lunch. I am actually quite full, but I mean I am truly fed up! I have fought with blogger for months now with being locked out of my own account and always locked out of making comments on other blogs I follow. So, goodbye blogger and hello WordPress. Please be good to me WP….<sigh>
This has been the rant of one very tired and anti Blogger Jamerican….SELAH!
Looking up…..
I’m not sure if I’ve ever told you, but I am the worship leader at our sweet little church here in Montego Bay. Funny thing is, I never really pictured myself doing this. Actually, I pictured myself singing alto in a Southern gospel group. >sigh> (I fear neither my voice or hair is big enough for that) Truth is, when you plant a church it’s all hands on deck. I suspect I am not the only one who has stepped out of her comfort zone and into God’s assignment.
Tonight we worked on two new songs: Everlasting God, and I Exalt Thee. It was new to everyone in my little worship team, except me. I had to sit as we rehearsed because the pain in my left leg and foot was so severe. But, I was so excited about these two songs. As we attempted to blend our voices it happened. The Holy Spirit just gripped my tattered heart and squeezed it so hard that the tears poured out. Just me, this broken vessel, has the privilege to exalt my heavenly Savior, the creator of the universe. The scripture is found in Psalm 97:9….”For thou O Lord art high above all the earth. Thou art exalted far above all gods.”
Father, I exalt Thee, I exalt Thee, I exalt Thee, O Lord.
Sometimes it just takes being flat on your back so you can look up….LOOK UP….and exalt the Everlasting God. He will not faint and He won’t grow weary.
This is just the rambling of one very tired…but oh so blessed Jamerican….SELAH!
2tiredjamericans 