Diaspora Kenyan Churches dividing Kenyans.

Diaspora Kenyan Churches dividing Kenyans.

The say you can take a cow to the river but you can’t force the same cow to drink the water. Similarly you can live in a city with a village mentality in you and vice versa. I am not here to please you. I am not here to say what you want to hear. Simply because I don’t want to repeat what you already know. If I were you I should have clicked the button and left this article because I have already been insulted. Yes my primary mission is not that but you are close home because am here to rub you the wrong way and not rob you the right way. Do not make a right turn we have demolished all the roundabouts and now bare with me because am about to make legal left turn to decongest traffic of your sermon Kenyan way speaking. I promise to improve your spiritual heartbeat seventy time seven times. That’s forgiveness in case you left your Bible in the car.   If you are still reading, then this article will speak to you in ways that will leave your mouth wide open and your mind shattered. It will demoralize but in essence will set you free, free indeed in your imagination. Haven’t you been searching for freedom all this long?  I am not a consecrated priest so do not start an online confession, I just happen to belong to the royal priesthood of God’s inspiration. This is the reason why I love God and fear religion.

Question: I have several Christian friends, but we all seem to believe different things! When it comes to things like creationism or even using cuss words, we just don't agree. I always say, "Well, what matters is that we agree that Jesus is our Savior." Secretly though, their different beliefs bug me. What can I do about this frustration?

Answer. I understand your frustration. Why do we have to be so different? Why can't we agree on everything and decide conclusively what's right and what's wrong?

I don't have an easy answer for each and every issue that Christians disagree on. But there's an old saying that goes, "In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity." Applied to Christians, this means being united in believing Jesus Christ, God's son, died for our sins. That's essential. But in matters that aren't directly addressed in the Bible (like politics, worship styles, etc.), we should give each other some liberty. And in all cases, we should extend grace and love.

Jesus said, "By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another" (John 13:35, NIV). Disagreements like you've mentioned are the proving ground for love. It wouldn't be hard to love your clone. But when you can show love for those who don't believe what you believe (even people you're sure are just wrong!), Jesus says it's a sign you're one of his true followers”. Marshall, a former pastor, is editor of Leadership, a magazine for pastors.

I Love God’s people. I love Creation. I am wonderful and fearfully made. If by now I have not scared what the ‘hell’ in you then you must be baptized by fire and dipped in red sea for 'your sins' are as red as crimson. I am not judging now I am preaching before I teach.   I was brought up as Catholic by African parents. By default or natures design I became a Christian. If my parents were Buddhists I will be a monk holed up in a desert somewhere in the oriental East chanting my destiny. At one point I thought I will become a priest. Catechism was ingrained  in me. I admired catholic priests and the whole Roman Catholic traditions. Part of my growing up I used to live somewhere in the Kenyan Great Rift valley. In the far flung remote side of Molo south precisely in Sundu River sublocation.  We used to hold our mass in classroom. We had no Building structure that we could call church. The closest church was at Murinduku village 6.5 miles from my nest I called home then. The leader of the Parish was Fr. Cavanagh (pronounced Gavana by the locals).  He was an Irish Roman Catholic priest, a mystic figure 6 feet tall broad shoulders priest. He boasted he fought in world war two as a teenager. I had no doubt he had miraculousl survived the worst in his life confronting the Nazi Germany or the Third Reich (Nazi Germany or the Third Reich was the period in the history of Germany from 1933 to 1945, when it was a dictatorship under the control of Adolf Hitler.)  With the ways his eyes roved with piercing look he had seen it all in Europe war front. He was heavily bearded with eyes rocketing from the sockets that made you confess your sins  before he whipped you with go say 10 Hail Mary’s and five Our Fathers. Me with the rest of Alter boys used to wait for his rugged colonial Range rover that arrogantly defied time and weather to hike a lift to the once a month liturgical mass at Murinduku church. Occasionally we visited Kamwaura Parish after crossing the infamous Doinate and Stoito forests. Every year we made our local pilgrim journey during Easter time to the mother Parish.  The palm and fingers of Fr. Cavanagh hands would squarely fit in my small skull of an Alter boy as I carried his heavy suitcase full of Holy Sacraments, chalice, wine, Holy Water and other Godly Kingdom material ready for the Mass. This was when life used to be innocent, I for once thought. I was living in Biblical Canna of Galilee. Truly Jesus's Sermon on the mountain of verily I Say unto you had reached the very end of the Earth.

Fr. Cavanagh was a re-veered Priest (May God Rest His soul in eternal Peace). He was a missionary at heart and in deed. You had no choice but to pass his Catechism test in order to receive Confirmation Sacrament. In full glare of shaken faithful congregation he loudly called your name and blankly slapped you with ‘recite for me the prayer of St. Jude, The Perpetual prayer so on and so forth. Once you recited halfway he announced in heavy Sinaic loud voice..’Enda pale Umepita’….Next! Loosely translated you have passed cross over. His voice even today is so ardently clear between my ears and tends to think heaven echoes will be the same….Next!!  He was fluent in four local dialects namely Kalenjin, Kikuyu and Kissi.  He spoke KiSwahili Sanifu. Talk of Acculturated missionary priest.  He was of kind and of big heart, he clothed the poor, fed the hungry, educated the poor students in sponsorship program. Basically he lived the Gospel as I read in my tattered Bible. He did so many good things that as a Christian I knew for sure when appropriate time comes I wanted to be a Catholic Priest. He was a mentor and a spiritual Director at best. At one point he offered to buy a two acre piece of land after I diplomatically presented our plight to him. We used to stay in Thatched two room mud house offered by us by one wealthy community leader and entrepreneur so that we can watch over his vast estate.  This tycoon in SunduRiver that  I won’t name for respect of privacy and cardinal rule of kindness made sure I had a roof over my head. It is always good to have rich man in your village a wealthy man at heart will be a bonus. You never know when God of providence revisits his consciousness of kindness. May God bless him.  I grew up in poor neighborhood such that if I were to export Poverty as a commodity, the high seas will be full containers and loads of poverty. Nonetheless this did not deter us to become who we are today. If only it gave us the impetus to fight more and be resilient in our quest of fulfilling destiny, keeping hope alive.  Fast forward I will save that story for another day. Just for the compassionate love to break the yoke of poverty Fr. Cavanagh asked my mom and late dad to identify a suitable land he can purchase for us and build us a modest three bedroom house because in his very eyes we lived like nomads. When this ‘good news’ leaked to the rest of the Christian congregation it was greeted with pinch of salt and muted like ‘Koroboi’ lamp. In short we never got the land. We never got the House. Poisonous Envy, malice and hatred was peddled unsolicited by fellow Christians. The venom was too much too bare. The noble Project backfired. The Parish priest washed his hands in this matter. As ‘good Christians’ We forgave, never forgot and moved on.  We had to live within the tenants’ of the gospel. The following year our entire family of 8 relocated back to Kangemi-Nairobi where I repeated primary 7 because the teacher thought in his own ‘rare wisdom’ I was not specially gifted having transferred from a village school. Owe unto him I was among the crème de’ crème to uplift the name of the school in national exams the following year. After jumping nine chapters of my life I proceeded to Catholic University of East Africa to study Project management & Social Ministry in Mission. Later in the history of events as it may, fate, planned or otherwise some of the  Christians who opposed our token from a Kind nonpartisan  Parish priest were unfortunately brutally killed following the politically instigated tribal clashes of 1992. I read the stories; saw the pictures of their burnt homes and their harrowing agonizing deaths in the heights of genocide in local dailies. I was traumatized. I had lost childhood friends in both divides whom I treasure even today. I now understand the PTSD diagnosis even better so.  I thought Christianity had brought us together as one but I was wrong. Even today I am constantly reminded that I am Kikuyu, a Kenyan, and Christian in that ‘primitive’ order. I have now confessed all my sins of aptitude and ineptitude whom have I wronged to deserve this unwarranted prejudice? I ask.

Now as a Kenyan Diaspora in the United States I have witnessed growth of many Kenyan community churches. It is a good thing to see fellow Kenyans socializing and happily exchanging hearty laughter's and hugs. Nevertheless for the last 3 or so years I have been agonizing with what I hear and observe. I have attended many Kenyan Christian churches and the narrative is the same. Same sleuths of prejudice, haters, Gossip, pretenders and the know it all nay Sayers. My question is: Why should we be compartmentalized in churches or organizations that are skillfully skewed to divide us as Kenyans? There is a deliberate tendency among the Kenyans community here to associate only with the Kenyan comrades that they attend the same church with. They will gossip for hours, and entire time giving testimonies of how bad and twisted the other Kenyan churches are. Some of them have been members in all the existing churches in every state and locality they have lived in and emerge not contented. Now they are about to start their own. Do not worry they will also disown their own soon.

On the pulpit Why can’t we preach sermon on the mountain as we all knew it. Some of us have studied theology but we just keep quite by utter shock of how things are done in the name of God. Give me a break good God’s people, this is earthly business. Heaven is just but a promise for those who believe. Me being one of them. { I hope I will meet Fr. Cavanagh…Next…..}. We know when the true spirit is moving among the people, there is no hatred and vitriol of malice, pride and confusion. Only calmness of eternal bliss.

The diaspora churches are dividing Kenyans; it’s no secret it as crystal clear as flakes of snow.  Why do we have all this churches yet we are still holed up in our tribal cocoons and psudo kitchen cabinets peddling lies. Why a midst all these 'good' churches, Kenyans are day in day out growing apart and cold from one another. Picture this for instance, some Christians will not come to your funeral or Maombolezi of your close family member simply because you don’t go to their church or even worse you are not a member of a particular church.  Why should we bring such divide and tribalism in this far land of Americas and beyond? When you took your visa were you asked whether you are a Christian or Kenyan? In my humble submission I strongly believe we are all Kenyans before anything else. Religion aside. I tend to believe that the churches in Diaspora should be uniting Kenyans not dividing us. We are already divided at home geopolitically speaking. How Biblical is it to export the vices here and you still demand our overtime tithe and weekly Sadaka?  For God’s sake, We demand more we deserve more pure niceness of your preaching and teaching. Your sermons should draw not always withdraw.  The churches in diaspora are behaving like our political prodigal sons back home Devide and rule. They justifiably ask for our hard earned wealth with little to show. We must as ‘Christians’ interrogate, ask the hard questions of these shenanigans and machinations of pseudo abracadabra. I know a multitude of Kenyans friends and fore’s alike who go to the local Kenyans Diaspora churches out of the sheer fear they will be left behind when the time of need comes. Because of spiritual vulnerability.  I forewarned you to read the bold prints not the fine prints at the bottom because I knew from on set you will be pissed off and am not here to please you, or plead with you for mercy. I am forthright say it as I see it from an observer and a protagonists perspective. I have often wondered the moment your official name and not of your church rings bells than honks more in the mouths of ‘believers’ and ears of ‘non-congregation’ members; then something is liturgically wrong. You could have gone ahead and named your church entity after your name anyhow.

The recent terrorist events in our country notwithstanding, apart from prayers offered in the so called Diaspora Christian churches nothing else beyond that. I rallied a spirited campaign on line to all Diaspora to come together and support their own. Apart from the usual sporadic anger and emotional ventilation on twitter and Facebook nothing else. But if you post a ‘nyamchom’, Birthday party, wedding, Baby shower  or a Sunday best worship snap on your Facebook page or Twitter handle you will attract viral traffic and likes you have never met in your life time. Both fore’s and haters alike. Pretenders are much worse than sinners.

No church in Diaspora convened a press conference even after 147 students Christian majority in Garissa University College were mercilessly mascaraed by Al-Shabaab Terrorists. Not even organizing a fundraising platform to support a bleeding home front.  They only talked about it in harsh tones.  It’s demoralizing to say the least if this is the trend we are following. Churches in Diaspora have failed to unite Kenyans and instead fueled the blind fatalistic tribalism card of doomed ‘salvation’. I am not part of it. I refuse. However, all is not lost.  After all said and done Diaspora churches can do better than brewing division among the congregation.  It is a good thing and sense of pride to have a local church with Kenyan roots. One feels closer home and networking among friends becomes easier. Lets not also forget we have a growing population of our children who look upon us to emulate what we portray. The diaspora churches in my opinion have a very good platform to preach the Gospel as well as inculcate deeper values of unity and collaboration. I am Ready to be persecuted, crucified with Christ as St Paul says, but alas it will definately take more than three days for me to rise from the dead because I am not the Son of God Jesus whom we worship. However, Calvary Triumphs anyway for I am a firm Christ believer with faith of reason.  Glory be to the Father and to The Son and to The Holy Spirit, as it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be world without end. Amen.

Original Thoughts Expressed and Written by:

Njoroge wa Ngige.  040815