Slowly by Slowly

By Patrick Beard

"Slowly by slowly an egg will walk" - Ethiopian Proverb

Growing up in a small Mississippi town Patrick dreamed of being a missionary to some exotic far away place. Through a series of disappointments, illness and heartbreak he was compelled to follow a narrow path. This would-be adventurer was being called to die to himself and live in Christ.

In a day of innovation and strategy this missionary implores us to rethink what it means to be a disciple of Christ, and calls to those who will join in a journey that takes place one step at a time--slowly by slowly.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Patrick Beard
• Release date: Jan 27, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310175015

Patrick Beard

Husband, father, missionary, entrepreneur, speaker and aquaponic farmer are just a few of the hats worn by Patrick S Beard. Born in Mississippi in the 1960's Beard worked as a graphic artist, journalist, videographer, publisher, computer system operator and finally as a medical clinic manager before moving with his wife and children to Ethiopia as a missionary.A series of tragedies and failures led to the founding of Indigenous Outreach International where Beard serves as Founder and Executive Director.Most recently Beard has opened The Bishop's Beard Gift Market, a small specialty gift market in the Casey Jones Village in Jackson, Tennessee, and started a for-profit aquaponic farming enterprise in Ethiopia.

Book preview

Slowly by Slowly

By Patrick S Beard

Copyright 2014 by Patrick S Beard

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved solely by the author. The author guarantees all contents are original and do not infringe upon the legal rights of any person or work. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the permission of the author. The views expressed in this book are not necessarily those of the publisher.

Unless otherwise indicated, Bible quotations are taken from The Holy Bible, New King James version. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc.

Some names have been changed.

www.ioiusa.org

Slowly by Slowly

A journey with Christ, the birth of a ministry

By Patrick S Beard

Indigenous Outreach International

Post Office Box 10173

Jackson, Tennessee 38308-01002

[phone]

www.ioiusa.org

Slowly by Slowly

A journey with Christ, the birth of a ministry

Contents

A Seed Must Die

Fifty Cents Would Have Saved That Baby

I want to live in Africa

Digging up the Devil

Sure Enough Africa

Out of Africa

A New Beginning

Brain Damage

Slowly by Slowly an Egg Will Walk

Two Questions

Website

Slowly by slowly an egg will walk

Ethiopian Proverb

Chapter One

A Seed Must Die

Slowly at first, then gaining momentum the Alitalia flight lifted off the runway in Addis Abeba en route to Rome. It was the funeral for the death of a lifelong dream.

I was thirteen when I first knew that I wanted to be a foreign missionary. Now thirty and having lived less than one year in Ethiopia, I was bound for home in defeat with a sick wife and 30 pounds lighter myself.

Just a few weeks earlier, we had seemed to come to grips with the harsh realities of life in Ethiopia. It was much harder than we had expected, and we had expected very harsh conditions. Separation from extended family and friends back home was difficult. Unreliable electric and phone service was annoying. There was a war going on. Although the front lines were miles from our home, the sound of fighter jets overhead brought more anxiety than comfort. Every meal had to be prepared by hand from scratch, and keeping a home clean was practically impossible in either the dry or rainy seasons. Relationships with fellow missionaries could be strained at times. The air seemed to always be filled with the aroma of diesel exhaust, eucalyptus, rot and sewage. The magnitude of poverty and disease was overwhelming with over half of the four million residents of Addis living in shacks made from garbage. Still, Ethiopia was becoming our home, and I no longer wanted to run away.

In an environment so intense, we had developed some deep relationships. Colin and Hazel were British missionaries who had spent most of the past thirty years in Ethiopia, and they were a great comfort to us. They could have commanded a stiff upper lip, but instead they seemed to empathize with our weakness. They, along with an international prayer group, encouraged and prayed for us.

In our first meeting, Hazel served us tea in proper British fashion. Colin took a long sip of his tea, replaced the cup on the saucer and asked with a smile, So Patrick, you are a short-termer?

Yes, sir.

Well, I’ll let you know right out, I don’t approve of short-termers.

Less than a year later at our last prayer meeting in Addis I shared that we were about to leave the country for medical treatment. By that time the Colin and Hazel had become dear to us, and Colin’s response was, Well, I think that is indeed a shame.

Although we had lived practically isolated from non-English speaking Ethiopians, we had developed some relationships with the locals. Gezahenge and Asrat, with their daughter Kalkidon, were our first Ethiopian house guests. They had been asked to help us learn Ethiopian customs and the predominant Ethiopian language of Amharic.

Asrat stood smiling at the door of her simple mud home. She spoke no English, but her arms welcomed us. After hugs and kisses we entered the small room where we would have dinner. The walls were covered in old newspaper and Gezahenge’s original artwork. A single dim light bulb gave light enough to eat by, candles at the ready for the inevitable power outage.

The aroma of the meal was appetizing. What Ethiopians lack in presentation they more than make up for in spices and flavor. Although they would not normally eat expensive meat, they had prepared a spicy doro wat (chicken stew) for us. Our two young daughters were treated like royalty.

Our home was modest by American standards, three bedrooms and one bath. However, when we visited Gezahenge’s family, we ate in one small room of the mud home. They used the other room to sleep in. Even though our living standards were so vastly different, they never acted like we were awful for having so much wealth. They seemed to know that we were the needy ones.

As we got to know more Ethiopians, their faith and joy became evident to us. Despite hard living conditions, they seemed to have more joy than we did. More often than not the poorer the family, the more spiritual wealth they seemed to possess and the more willing they were to share of their possessions.

One Ethiopian mission employee took a keen interest in me and my family. Negash would come to my home after business hours and he would compel me to go with him to pray for the sick and demon possessed. He asked me to preach at his church, and he mentored me in hands-on ministry.

I had served on church staff in America, attended more worship services than I could count, studied the Bible with mentors, but life in Ethiopia had brought me to the conclusion that I was indeed needy. I had it all, but I was poverty stricken.

Just beyond the razor wire topped gates of our Western-style compound there were disciple makers and church planters who were lacking daily provision. I never saw one of these