Sibri's Heart (by Ken Cantrell)

Ken & Ginny Cantrell
Missionaries to Burkina Faso

It was a day like most days in Burkina Faso, the temperature had reached its peak, quite possibly 103 degrees.  In our room I had just gotten cleaned up, that is washing the sweat from my brow, when there was a knock at the door.

“Pastor Sibri is here, sir,” the man said.  I walked outside to greet our Assistant Superintendent.  He is an elderly man for Africa, most likely in his late 50s.  Thin around the belt with specks of grey in his hair.  He greeted me in typical African style, first a handshake and then an embrace.

It was not clear why he had come to visit.  I believe it was just to see where we were staying.  We talked about my vision for Burkina Faso and how the North American churches had prayed on a map of Burkina Faso as we deputized raising our support in preparation of coming to Burkina Faso.  We continued our conversation, talking first about the beginning of Bible school classes, and then I showed him pictures of our children and grandson in the States.   It was a time of connecting our hearts together for one purpose — to see Burkina Faso, West Africa bring in a great harvest of souls.

Pastor Sibri carried a worn leather sack with him.  At the time the contents were unknown to me.  Maybe it was full of important documents, possibly official church papers.  In my bag were my laptop, a calculator, money, passports, and such.   His worn hands reached down for the bag as I waited to see the secrets it contained.  Within the worn leather sack were several stacks of paper.  More important than a laptop, more important than official church papers, more important than pictures of family and friend — the stack of papers were invitations and teaching on salvation.  Some were written in French and some were in the Moore (more-ray) language.   The bag must have had over 60 or so tracts that he had purposed to give out.

This great pastor had one objective that day — to evangelize his city.  After an hour or so of us communicating in my broken French, he exclaimed that it was time for him to go.  We finished our drink and I walked with him to the gate.  “Where was his moto (motorcycle)?”  I wondered, “Did he take a taxi here?”  I know he lives at least four miles from where we were standing.  He then walked to his bicycle that was most likely 20 years old.  This pastor had spent a part of his day traveling to greet me and was evangelizing all along the way.

Emotions filled my heart as my thoughts continued, “Would I be able to evangelize my city with a few tracks in hand, riding an old bicycle – or would I find yet another excuse to live another day not making any difference at all?”

This day I found the heart of a man, a man who is serving Christ while living the great commission (Matthew 28:19).  Off he rode on his bicycle.  I stood watching him leave — I was changed!

Finally Home! (by Ken Cantrell)

Ken & Ginny Cantrell
Missionaries to Burkina Faso

When the man put his ink to the parchment in Ecclesiastes 3:1, I wonder if he really knew how applicable the words would be in this dispensation?

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven;”

It is my understanding that there is or should be a precise time or place when a missionary feels a direct calling to the foreign field.  Possibly during a service when the word was being preached and you knew that it was a rhema word for only you, or even in a quiet closet of prayer.  Regardless, most if not all missionaries can point you to the time or the place.

1996 was a year of spiritual transition for the Cantrell family.  God had begun to deal with my wife, Ginny, and I about Africa.  We loaded a plane to Arusha, Tanzania with one objective in mind, to find out if God was calling us to this Dark Continent.  My mind clearly remembers the morning after our arrival, the sounds of children playing outside our window, roosters welcoming the sun.  At that moment, less than 12 hours from our landing, God spoke and said, “This will be your land.”  I also remember dancing wildly outside in the courtyard after preaching in the headquarters church in Moshi, again God spoke, “Just like Abraham, I will give you the land you walk upon.”

This was 1996, the call was given, we would wait for God’s timing, and wait we did.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven;”

It seemed that the years passed quickly and we lived almost every verse in Ecclesiastes 3, we lived, we died, we planted, we harvested, we received and lost, finally, we loved and yes at times it felt like war.  Still through all of the blessing and all of the trials the call was sure and God was true. His grace was sufficient.

May 16th, 2010; fourteen years later the plane begins it’s decent into Ouagadougou, Burkina Faso.  I look at Gin and hold her hand.  The lights of distant villages come into view first, then the city where we will live and serve the Lord.  Suddenly all of the deputation miles were worth it, suddenly all of the tears shed in telling our children goodbye made perfect sense.  All at once all of the unknowns had vanished.

The airport was hot that night.  It could have possibly been over 100 degrees as we pressed our way to the luggage area.  There were hundreds of Burkinabe people pushing, customs agents directing, me smiling.  I glanced over at Ginny who was standing along the wall waiting for me.  No words needed to be spoken.

We were here!

We were home!