Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Dumbfounded (02/20/25)
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TITLE: My Mother Made Me | Previous Challenge Entry
By Jack Taylor
02/26/25 -
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“I’m the oldest of six,” he said. “A few years ago, I was left for dead on the side of the road. I praise God for his goodness and mercy.”
I’d come half-way around the world to lead a cohort of executive leaders in team building. Somehow, this 25-year-old had made the cut among 42 others from 16 African countries who had successfully crossed war zones, navigated closed borders, and endured days of travel by bus and other transport to reach Kigali, Rwanda.
“I have a dream to reach the continent of Africa with the hope of Jesus,” he said. “The only reason I live is to pray and to follow what Jesus has called me to.”
The respect from others, who passed by on their way to chai, was evident. Nigel constantly had to rise, share a vigorous hug, offer a stream of greetings and laughter, quote a verse of encouragement, and pass on his love to whomever the other person might know. At times he would offer a brief prayer. He was a fountain of faith and hope in a life surrounded by empty wasteland.
Nigel lived in a slum, in a shack smaller than a shipping container. He was the oldest of six who shared the small space. Four years before he’d been crushed in a road accident and had to have both hips replaced. When one of the students broke out into a song and dance, he awkwardly moves to engage without harming himself. During that moment, standing next to me, he hooks his elbow with mine and swings me slowly in a far from fluid circle.
“If God had not been merciful to me I couldn’t do this,” he pronounces.
The week before our course, his father had passed away. One of his sisters had become sick and the family didn’t have resources to pay for medication. But his mother had insisted he take the 18-hour bus ride to learn what he needed to learn. Again, I was dumbfounded.
“What gives you the courage to live your life?” I ask.
His broad grin displays fine white teeth. “I believe that Jesus loves me, that he is control of life, and that he is with me and will never leave me.” He wipes the sweat from his forehead with the back of his wrist. “We are called to multiply and our time is short.”
As we spoke, he shared of the great faith of his mother, the joy of the church that gathered in the slums, and his vision for impacting leaders all over Africa. His charisma stood out among others more privileged and the joy of Jesus shone from his face. He swallowed generous portions of the abundant food offerings available, while admitting that food was often scarce at home. He wondered if that was one reason his mom had sent him to come; so that he could eat a few good meals.
Those of us who facilitated the two cohorts of executive leaders saw immediately his incredible potential as a gifted leader. We had to ask, who was this young man raised amidst a jungle of scrap-board huts, corrugated tin, plastic, and cardboard? Who was this mother was pushed her son to excel through a science degree and now onto other things when money was scarce?
I shift myself to escape the probing sunrays shrinking our circle of shade. “I am dumbfounded by the courage, the depth of faith, the challenges that you have already overcome,” I say to him. “I see that the others come to you for prayer all the time. How did you learn to pray?”
He chuckles. “My mother said that prayer is our food. Without it we would not eat. Without it we could never have gone to school. Without it I would never have found a way to this leadership course.”
“So, what do you need from us?” I ask.
“Pray for work where I can bring glory to God, good for my family, and hope to leaders all over this nation. I have written a book on my journey. Perhaps someone will read it and learn to praise God like I do.”
“Count me in,” I said.
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