The post Clinic Update  first appeared on Acts10.

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So much of the Tanakh, what we call the Old Testament, is descriptive, rather than prescriptive. Historical accounts do not tell us so much about what God would have wanted as they do about human nature. Our nature. Genocides happened, murders and rapes happened, wars, cannibalism, slavery, and all sorts of immoral things happened. They are “Scriptural,” but that does not make them right. This is how people abuse the bible to support all sorts of immorality like racism, slavery, sexism, homophobia, etc. 

Then, there are the laws that legitimately show us the heart of God and give us an inkling of what love actually looks like. Besides the Ten Commandments—do not lie, kill, steal, covet, commit adultery, etc., Leviticus 19:33-34 tells us “When a stranger resides with you in your land, you shall not do him wrong . . . he shall be to you as the native, and you shall love him as yourself.” The Israelites were foreigners in Egypt and were to remember their own experiences and show compassion (Exodus 22:21 and 23:9). What about the jubilee? Jews had to free their slaves every 50 years. Race-based, generational slavery was a uniquely American phenomenon. Jews also had to leave some of their crops for the poor, so they would have something to glean. 

Remember when Jesus first started out in His ministry and went to the temple in his home town of Nazareth and started talking about how Elijah went to Sidon and saved the widow of Zarephath and her son during a famine and how Elishah didn’t heal the lepers in Isreal but instead went to Syria and healed Naaman (Luke 4:26-30)? That went over like a lead balloon. Later, when he passed through Samaria, He came to Jacob’s well at the town of Sychar and struck up a conversation with a gentile woman with a sketchy past. He told her, as she already knew, that “Salvation comes from the Jews.” (John 4:22), but Jesus ministered to her and made her the first person outside of his apostles whom He directly told that He is the Messiah. Furthermore, based on her testimony, she and many other Samaritans from the town came out to see Jesus at Jacob’s well, believed in Him, and were saved. What about the woman He effectively called a dog? Jesus deliberately entered the Canaanite region of Tyre and Sidon where He encountered a woman calling out to Him to heal her daughter. He didn’t answer her at first, but when she had come and bowed before 

Him, Jesus told her that He was sent to the lost sheep of Isreal, and “It is not good to take the children’s bread and throw it to the dogs.” But, undeterred, she answered back that “even the dogs feed on the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.” At that point, she had passed Jesus’ test, and He tells her, “Oh woman, your faith is great; it shall be done for you as you wish.” (Matt 15:21-28; Mark 7: 24-30). Jesus even heals the servant of the Roman centurion (Matt 8:5-13; Luke 7:1-10). The Romans were the occupying power, and the ones Jews hoped Jesus would overthrow. 

God never intended salvation to both start and end with the Jews. Before the nation of Isreal existed, He promised Abraham that “All the families of the earth will be blessed in you.” (Gen 12:3). That was the plan all along. Right before His ascension, Jesus told the disciples to “Go and make disciples of all the nations.” (Matt 28:19). And as recorded in Acts1:8, Jesus tells them, “ . . . you will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you shall be my witnesses both in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and even to the remotest part of the earth.” 

So, why do we gentiles, fellow “dogs,” get hung up on what we now call the nation of Isreal—this state created by a bunch of white men behind closed doors in 1948? The temple was destroyed in 70 AD. The people who live there now mostly came from Europe, the Middle East, North Africa, and the USSR, and have very little genetic heritage, to the land. For example, Benjamin Netanyahu’s father, Benzion, immigrated from Poland to Palestine and changed the family name from Mileikowsky to Netanyahu in the 1920s—pre- WWII. The people who did have ancestral lineage that went back thousands of years, those were the Arabs displaced in the Nakba so the Jews of the diaspora could come in and colonize their land. Likewise, the Palestinians, both Muslims, and Christians have been living in a colonial apartheid state without the right to determine their own futures. I suppose we could have carved up Germany to create a safe designated Jewish state without displacing innocent people—of course Jerusalem is not in Germany. 

Who constitutes Isreal now? How would we determine who would comprise the tribe of Naphtali, Judah, Manasseh, Simeon, etc.? What would the tribe of Levi have to do with no temple and no land rights? I legitimately don’t know the answer to those questions. Jesus told the apostles that they would rule over the twelve tribes of Isreal, as I interpret it, in the Millennium. Will Paul take Judas Iscariot’s place or Matthias? We don’t know what tribes the disciples came from. What if the apostles do not represent all twelve tribes? They may very well not since the Assyrians forcibly displaced the tribes north of Judah and brought other gentiles into the land to destroy the local culture there. Hence the Samaritan race. Presumably, God has a way to sort these things out. I know I don’t, and I doubt anyone else does either. 

What does the current State of Israel have in common with Jacob and his descendants when God changed his name to “Israel,” meaning “struggles with God (Gen 32: 24-32)”? Some Palestinians are Jews and Palestinians have Jewish and Canaanite heritage. Why does Israel regulate DNA testing so tightly and specifically prohibit the sale of personal DNA kits to residents of Israel? Someone might successfully order a kit online from outside of the country and have it shipped to them at their home in Israel, but such kits may not be legally sold within the country. 

In Revelations 12, Israel is portrayed as a woman. She gives birth to a male child whom Satan seeks to devour, but the child is caught up to God, and then she flees into the wilderness where she is nourished for a time that might correspond to the tribulation (verses 5-7). Later in the chapter, Satan persecutes the woman and tries to drown her with a flood, but “the earth helps the woman” and soaks up the water (verses 13-16). I do not know if the antisemitic forces that led to WWII and the Allies’ victory fulfill those passages or not. Truthfully, neither do you. 

Personally, as I interpret Scripture, I believe that Jesus will return to establish and claim His kingdom suddenly and will not require advance assistance in the matter from racist colonizers. Think about it. Why do people consider Jews white but not Palestinians? Why did the town city council where I attend church in Southeast Ontario have no problem flying the Ukrainian flag in solidarity with them as they fight off Russian forces, but decide they needed to completely revamp their flag policy to not fly any foreign flags when asked to fly the Palestinian flag in solidarity with Palestine and with Palestinian community members—even if it were flown alongside the Israeli flag? 

We tend to think we’re close to “The End.” I have every confidence that God did not want Hitler’s regime to succeed, but that does not mean that those who created the current State of Isreal and called for the forcible displacement of Arabs followed God’s will. God allows all kinds of atrocities to happen around the world on large scales and on an individual level. We have free will and we freely choose greed and power over ending world hunger or saving the planet. We have natural disasters and those we create. Sometimes, the lines become blurred between the two. I believe that we who believe in Jesus have the Holy Spirit within us. God endures all our pain and suffering along with us and helps us to persevere. When our bodies die, He takes us home to be with Him. The Holy Spirit guides those who will listen, but God is not our cosmic “fixer.” God showed us what love is through Jesus, and Jesus dwells with us. Someday God will make everything right, but in the meantime, we’re on a chaotic ride trapped on this conveyor belt called time. 

So, what if we don’t happen to be particularly close to Jesus’ return? What if the current State of Israel is just a counterfeit? Maybe, this exemplifies Jesus’ words in Luke 

16:16 and colonizers, like the Pharisees Jesus addressed in the passage, just try to force their way into “the gospel,” or in this case, forcibly displace and exterminate others to create their own kingdom without their Messiah. 

What would Jesus say about some Christians’ nonchalance about genocide? Remember the parable of the Good Samaritan? Samaritans and Jews hated each other, but the Samaritan became a neighbor to the injured Jew. I am quite sure the starving of civilians, the sniping of children, and the rape and torture of people in designated torture camps does not fulfill what God had in mind for how Jesus would return to power. The status of “neighbor” did not have to do with race, color, creed, or anything else. We’re humans on the same planet taking the same journey together through time. “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.” (John 13:35). What exactly do you understand about Jesus’ character that makes you believe that He would support any genocide at all–whether of Jews, Palestinians, or anyone else—let alone of those who have direct genetic ties to Jews in Jesus’ time and before then, as well as to the first Christians on the planet?

The post It’s Scriptural first appeared on Acts10.

My name is Chosen, and I am an Ugandan transgender man living in Kenya as an asylum seeker. I am also a parent to a 10-year-old son. I’ve been through many difficult experiences in life, and although I won’t share every detail, I can say that I’ve endured immense hardship. However, I thank God for never failing me, and I trust that He never will. I believe I am one of those He has chosen to work through, and He will always be my God. 🙏

I grew up living with my mother until she passed away when I was 12 years old. After her death, I moved in with an uncle on my mother’s side. He worked night shifts as a security guard, while his wife ran a bar. Every night, my uncle’s wife would open the bar and stay there with me, and people would often come in and wonder if I was a girl or a boy. Many of them were confused about my identity and began offering her money, asking her to convince me to sleep with them so they could “confirm” my sexuality.

Despite their advances, I refused and made it clear that I was not interested, as I was still young, focused on my studies, and had no romantic or sexual feelings for any man. But one day, when I was in my second year of secondary school, something happened that would change my life. I came home from school, and my uncle’s wife gave me a soda and some snacks. Unbeknownst to me, she had mixed the soda with a drug so that a man could take advantage of me. This is how I ended up pregnant with my son, at the age of 14.

At first, I didn’t understand what had happened. I confronted my uncle’s wife, but she ignored me. It wasn’t until I missed my period that I bought a pregnancy test and discovered I was pregnant. I didn’t know who was responsible, and I felt utterly lost. In my despair, I attempted to take my own life but was rushed to the hospital and treated. When I questioned my uncle’s wife, she admitted to what had happened, and the man who was involved came to the hospital. They both pressured me to get an abortion, but I refused. Instead, my uncle’s wife turned the blame on me, telling my uncle that I was the one sleeping with the men who came to their bar.

With no one to turn to and no support, I was kicked out of my uncle’s house when I was two months pregnant. I had nowhere to go, so I contacted the man responsible for the pregnancy, but he told me he would only care for me until I gave birth and then wanted me to leave. I refused to stay with him and found a job as a waitress in a bar in central Uganda. While pregnant, I worked there, but my boss pressured me into sex work, forcing me to sleep with customers in exchange for money. When I refused, I was fired after only six days of working.

Desperate, I found another job as a cashier in a nearby bar, but soon found myself in police custody for five days after some issues at the bar. After being released, I went back to the village and stayed with my son’s father, not because I wanted to build a family, but because I wanted to be there for my child and bond with him. However, our relationship was toxic, and we constantly fought. When my son turned 4, I made the difficult decision to leave him with his father, knowing I had to find a way to support myself and eventually bring my son back to me.

I started working as a security guard, doing night shifts. It was during this time that I met my first girlfriend, and we had a brief relationship. But people in the community began suspecting that I was a homosexual due to my masculinity and my relationship with a woman. Eventually, we were caught together in a private room, and the whole village gathered to watch as the police arrested us on charges of unnatural offenses. Although no evidence was found, I was released from jail.

When I returned home, the landlord immediately kicked me out, saying he couldn’t house a homosexual. I tried looking for other places to stay, but everyone refused, saying they couldn’t live with someone like me. I fell into deep despair and began having suicidal thoughts, but one day I sought refuge in a church in Kampala. There, I found a friend who connected me to someone in Kenya, and I made the decision to leave Uganda.

When I arrived in Kenya, I faced even more challenges. I lived in extreme poverty and struggled to survive for a year and a half. But then I met Dr. Tara Wakefield, a kind-hearted woman from the UK who provides medical assistance to the queer refugee community in Kenya. Dr. Tara gave me the opportunity to volunteer at her hospital and offered me a place to live. I was incredibly grateful, but my mind was still troubled by thoughts of my son.

Every time I contacted relatives in Uganda, I was told that my son was being mistreated by his stepmother. I struggled to get a clear answer, and when I spoke to his grandmother, she assured me that he was fine. But I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. In December 2025, I received a message from my son’s aunt telling me that my son was really suffering, and I knew I had to return to Uganda.

     Dr. Tara helped me with the necessary funds, and I traveled back to Uganda to check on my son. What I found when I arrived was beyond my worst fears. I went to the National Identification Registration Authority (NIRA) to pay for my son’s birth certificate and passport, but when they started processing the paperwork, they asked how I was related to the child. I told them I was his biological mother, but they showed me a record in the system stating that my son’s grandmother was listed as his mother. The record even stated that she had given birth to him in 2015, while I had given birth in 2016.

I tried explaining that there had been a mistake, showing them my son’s birth certificate and hospital records, but they refused to believe me. They told me that in order to correct the system, I would need to provide a statutory declaration from a lawyer and bring my son’s grandmother to NIRA to confirm that I was his biological mother. I sent money to the grandmother for transportation, but she took the money and never showed up. When I returned to NIRA, they refused to accept my explanation and told me I would need to do a DNA test to prove that I was my son’s mother.

Unfortunately, the NIRA office was closed for the election period, so I had no choice but to return to Kenya with my son without his documents. The entire experience left me traumatized. I was harassed on the streets, called derogatory names, and even physically threatened. I was living in a shared room with four other people and struggled to afford food and shelter. Despite everything, I am thankful that I made it back to Kenya with my son.

I am eternally grateful to Dr. Tara and the support she has given me. I also thank the entire refugee community for their kindness and solidarity. It has been a difficult journey, but I remain hopeful, knowing that I have come this far, and with God’s help, I will continue to move forward. May God bless you all. 🙏

The post My Name is Chosen first appeared on Acts10.

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The post WOFAR Got a Van!  first appeared on Acts10.

At the same time, my theological perspectives have slowly but surely shifted leftward. In college, I could havesigned an American Baptist theological statement. Now, I support women pastors and in every other position ofauthority, gay marriage, ordination of LGBTQ+ pastors, and although I believe God inspired the Scriptures, I donot hold them inerrant in their original form. God chose to use us, and we mess up.

I do not take the story of the Garden of Eden literally. Maybe, evolution holds water, maybe not. Regardless,we know that the earth predated the Genesis account by millions of years and life has progressed from lesscomplex forms to the more advanced. Life has achieved more and more attributes of the Imago Dei untilhumanity. But when did homo sapiens cross the line to bear that full image? When did we first have spiritual orreligious beliefs? Where did we start looking after each other’s well-being without regard to our utility? I thinkthat’s why God gave us that story about the man, the woman, the snake, and the fruit. Our little brains can’tcomprehend all of that. Where accepted, that story probably improved womens’ lot in life for thousands ofyears. Not so much in the last couple hundred years. Now, “a helper suitable,” does not receive interpretationin the sense of Psalm 121:1-2, but in the context of justifying females as inherently inferior and subservient tomen—although the Hebrew word, ezer, is the same in both places.

I hold onto the exclusiveness of Christ. He made claims about Himself that leave us no wiggle room (John14:6 among other references). We accept Him as Lord–or reject Him as either insane or a diabolical liar. SeeC.S. Lewis’ “Lord, Liar, or Lunatic” presentation in Mere Christianity. When a culture becomes “Christian”,however, it loses all power and authenticity. The Holy Spirit inhabits individuals, not institutions or societies.

I do not believe the pope has any legitimate authority. God could user the pope for good in the world. Or not.The Catholic Church has done unspeakable evil through the ages. Behemoth, world-wide Protestant denominations governed centrally also cause problems for the samereasons. Inevitably, when diferent parts of the world try to work together under the same banner, one group willcall the other liberal/conservative. If they continue to work together, the “compromise” will almost universallyfavor the more conservative, exclusive, and fearful group. And so progress stalls in the institution.

Similarly, the US calls itself, “Christian,” while efectively trying to return to The Law of the Old Testament (theTanakh). As an American, I can say, “we.” We seem to think that we and Israel are one and the same. Ratherthan granting religious freedom for all as God granted us free-will, however, the empowered GOP seeks to stripwomen of their rights and restore full, unmitigated straight, white, male privilege. They want to own women asproperty again—our bodies, especially our wombs, and our minds. They don’t want us to be able to questiontheir authority or have the right to vote, hold ofice, or even live independently from a man. Seeking to revokefreedoms people have obtained in Jesus is a sure sign of a false gospel—see the entire book of Galatians whenJewish Christians insisted upon circumcising Gentile believers. We resemble Laodicea described in Revelations 3:14-22, esp 17.

So, I believe that Jesus, “is The Way, The Truth, and The Life,” but a believer could wear a turban, or a sari, orhijab or any other cultural “uniform.” They could have the darkest Sudanese skin, the palest Irish complexion,or absolutely anything in between—or have albinism or vitiligo for that matter. They can eat whatever kind ofamazing food they love and listen to whatever kind of music they want unless their conscience tells them otherwise. They could have any gender identity or sexual orientation, so long as they do not abuse the rights ofothers and they treat their body as a temple of the Holy Spirit. As humans, we need fellowship with others, andwe need fellowship with a faith community as well. But the Holy Spirit determines what works for a givenperson in the context of their culture. Not an institution. Not the world-wide United Methodist Church, the Baptist Church, etc. Certainly not the American versions thereof.

At this time, I greatly appreciate my Canadian citizenship. My marriage may not have lasted, but now, I live in Ontario. While Netenyahu and Trump create the next generation of antisemites, at least I can watch from theother side of the border—hopefully with both of my daughters. I got my health card about four-days afterarriving here. Guaranteed health coverage. Abortion access that my 52-year-old uterus will never need to use,but I’m glad is accessible to others. Actual equal protections for women under the law. Actual freedom of religion.

The US could have had all this, but we didn’t nip racism in the bud after the Civil War and allowed unbridledcapitalism to squelch freedom for the majority with Citizens United. Trump just brought in white Afrikaners as refugees from South Africa. He wants the US to become anapartheid state. I never want to hear someone call the US a Christian nation again.

I’ve run into some anti-woke people here in Ontario—white people who won’t stand to hear about whiteprivilege, etc. But they don’t share the institutionalized, anti-Black racis in the US. Both the US and Canada have anti-Native racism, but Canada wasn’t founded on slave labor. Peoplehere aren’t inherently better or more moral, but they have a better government that consistently meets theirbasic needs. Humans treat each other with more kindness when they’re not sick, hungry, broke, tired, andafraid. Canada also hasn’t spent the last hundred years meddling with the governments of other sovereignstates in order to protect what they perceived as their interests abroad. They haven’t felt compelled to dominate the rest of the world either. Meanwhile, while the US cuts of foreign aid and deports refugees whohave made it to US soil, lots of the churches here sponsor refugees to immigrate to Canada outside of UNHCRmandates, which local governments often subvert. Canada doesn’t call itself a Christian nation, and itshouldn’t, but at least they don’t sufer from the same cult of Christian Nationalism we do in the US.

The post Musings first appeared on Acts10.

It is an honor, and I’m humbled to have the privilege of being here today to offer some thoughts of remembrance for my dad, Ronald Wakefield. He was a devoted husband and father and lived his life the best way he knew how with honesty, integrity, and humility.  

Before I run through the events of his life, I wanted to talk about his hobbies and things he enjoyed.  

He was a pretty quiet man of relatively few words. That’s not to say there wasn’t a lot going on inside his head, but he just didn’t talk that much. He still made sure to tell Mom, Wayne, and me that he loved us though, and made time for things like baseball and softball games, helping out with school projects and family time.  

When he had his own time, he liked to sit in his o ice downstairs by himself with the door closed and listen to music while doing sudokus or crosswords or reading a book. Those hours alone seemed to recharge him.  

Dad enjoyed planning the details of vacations, researching places to go and things to see and do months in advance. He definitely found joy in the details.  

He also loved to sit and watch college and pro-basketball or football games downstairs.  

Besides these things, Dad loved to sing. He sang with The Singing Hoosiers all 4 years of undergrad, with the St Luke’s UMC Choir for 45 years, and with the Indianapolis Symphonic Choir for a couple of years as well.  

He played rolls in a few musicals as well at Footlight.  

Dad’s favorite foods included gorgonzola-based pasta sauce, butter pecan ice cream, and, of course, doughnuts! 

Highlights of His Life: 

Ronald Wayne Wakefield was born in Linton, IN July 7^th of 1938. It was clear that he had quite the intellect from a young age, and he once told me that when he aced everything in elementary school, his mom told his teacher to instead grade him, “against his potential.” This greatly exasperated him. He graduated from HS in 1957 and went to IU in Bloomington, majoring in mathematics. 

 After undergrad, Ron enlisted in the air force and served from ’61-66. He was stationed at Lackland AFB in San Antonio, TX for a bit and then went to Keesler AFB in Biloxi, MS. He couldn’t tell us or anyone what he did there during the Cold War, but he worked as a ground electronics o icer, and it just so happened that whenever Russia put up a spy satellite as part of their Zenit program, he would be confined to the base for 72h.  

 Towards the end of his service, while stationed at Fairchild AF Base in Spokane, he attended Manito Presbyterian Church and sang in the choir there. He and his two roomates wanted to check out the ladies, so they went to a dinner for college-age kids. Rick, Ray, and Ron went to the dinner, and Ron met Mary there. 

 Ron was on a mission. He and Mary dated for three whole weeks before he proposed. Her answer was along the lines of, “Uuuh, no. It’s too soon. I don’t know you well enough yet. I’ll still see you, but I don’t know about marriage.” He left to go work at TRW in El Segundo, CA, but she got his address and wrote him letters. They exchanged lots of letters over the next several months until he came back to Spokane over Labor Day weekend—and proposed again. This time, she said, Yes. They were married 3 months later in December on ’66. 

 TRW was known for aerospace and electronics, and served the Air Force for things like developing systems for Intercontinental Ballistic Missile development.  They didn’t produce missile hardware, but designed electronics systems.  He couldn’t talk about what he did there either. While in El Segundo, he got his master’s degree in computer science from USC.  

 Later in ‘77, Ron and Mary moved, now with their two children, Wayne and myself, to Indianapolis to be closer to his family and for his job at IN Bell. There, he served as the human computer to make sure that the massive supercomputers got the correct answers. At one point, his brother Don visited him there and found about 30-pages of hand-written calculus he’d done. He followed the first 3 pages or so before he decided he’d had enough.  

 After he retired, he ever-remained a numbers man, and worked seasonally at H and R Block doing tax prep .  

 This was my dad—the man who helped make me who I am by his character, example, and also his genes. Dad wasn’t diagnosed by anyone but me, because he was high-functioning, but he was on the autism spectrum.  I didn’t even get diagnosed until my mid 40s. But, now Bianca, my older daughter, has the diagnosis as well, and we have another relative on the Wakefield side with Pervasive Developmental Disorder.  

Our very own Sheldon Cooper had both strengths and weaknesses that made him unique, and we loved him.  

     He was unassuming and didn’t presume ill-intentions in others.  Although he thrived on minutia in his work, he generally managed to not sweat the small stu    in life. For example, he never really enjoyed the beach or swimming, but any family vacation, which he would have meticulously planned, would invariably involve both of these, because Mom, Wayne, and I love the water.  

     He would come down to the pool or the beach in a casual dress shirt, suitable for the o ice, long shorts, and either in sandals with white tube socks pulled all the way up or with his dress shoes suitable for work over said tube socks. He may as well not have owned a pair of jeans or sneakers, because he wore slacks, and o ice-worthy shoes with an o iceworthy shirt over an undershirt every day, even in the memory unit when Parkinson’s and dementia had taken their toll.  

    He didn’t really have the ability to give Wayne tough love and let him hit rock bottom when he struggled with addiction to drugs. Wayne would ask to stay with Mom and Dad, and he would say yes. In his defense, he found Wayne unconscious in the upstairs bathroom at one point with the needle still in his arm. They’d planned to get pizza, and Wayne said he was going to get ready to go get it. He went in the bathroom, and locked the door. When, he didn’t come out for a long time and didn’t respond to him through the door, he broke open the door to find him wedged between the toilet and the wall, uynconscious. He called 911, and he survived that time. My parents never knew if the time they were seeing him would be their last, and I’m sure they didn’t want to have to wonder if they could have helped him after the fact. The best thing was when we sent Wayne to California for treatment. He needed to get away from Mom and Dad.  

Although Dad was a math genius, he couldn’t explain it to save his life. If I came to him with a pre-calculus problem when I was in high school and asked him to show me how to solve it, he wouldn’t look at how we were supposed to get the answer, but would just use calculus. He would solve the problem, but I wouldn’t have understood anything that he had just done.  

He seemed to have an auditory processing disorder. If you told him something while he was working on something else, he would never remember. He had to read it. If he wrote it down or he read it, it was fine, but if you just told him . . . . He also misheard things in conversations and song lyrics even before his hearing noticeably deteriorated. At one point, Mom had cooked chicken for dinner, and there was a drumstick left if he wanted it. So, she said, “There’s still a drumstick.” That’s not what he heard. He then proceeded to get a deeply hurt look on his face, so my mom asked him what he thought she’d said. He said, “You’re still a dumb-shit.” She told him what she’d actually said and they both laughed about it.  

     The song ,”Hip to Be Square” by Huey Lewis and the News was another example. He thought it was, “Hit the B square.” Always thinking about math! 

He learned not to take himself too seriously though, and could loosen up with his dry sense of humor. He always made room for the important things in life.  

On that note, I’d like to end with this video tribute.  

The post Obituary: Ronald Wayne Wakefield first appeared on Acts10.

He went from the Hickory Memory Unit at Hoosier Village to St. Vincent’s on 86th Street and stayed overnight there until he could go to hospice at Compassus on Payne Road the next afternoon. He passed away three days later, on the 18th, and we had the funeral on Wednesday, the 21st. Then, I drove up to ON in a U-Haul on the 22nd-23rd. I needed to physically reside here in order to get the Canadian criminal background check required to get my license to practice medicine here from the College of Physicians and Surgeons of ON (CPSO). I had planned to start work here on May 20th, but I have a flexible employer! The process with the CPSO has also taken longer than anticipated. Hopefully, I can start work in the next one to two weeks!

But I helped Mom plan for Dad’s cremation and for the funeral, and I gave the eulogy. I also helped get her house ready for guests coming that very afternoon after the funeral—Mandeep and her mom from India as well as Bianca coming to present her Valpo research project at a geography conference in downtown Indy! So, she and I stayed in a hotel near the convention center while Mandeep and her mom stayed with my mom. Bianca left Indy on Friday after I had already started the drive up, and Mandeep and her mom flew back to Boston on Friday as well.

Dad had significant dementia and Parkinson’s disease. His quality of life had been poor for several years already. His care became too much for Mom, and she eventually, later than she really should have, moved him to memory care. She visited him daily, and his spirits stayed up with generic Lexapro. Then, he died after three months there.

He and my mom had a 58-year marriage! I am so glad to have been able to support Mom and to attend the funeral! God’s timing of everything turned out to be such a blessing! Now, I am also grateful to live in beautiful Brockville, ON. I can look out my window and see the St. Lawrence River. Furthermore, I got my health coverage card, or at least the number that I can use immediately, as soon as I produced the necessarydocuments at the Service ON office: government-issued ID (my passport) and my proof ofresidence (a copy of the rental agreement). The physical card will come in the mail soon.

If you would like to read my Dad’s obituary or see the memorial video, read more.

The post Counting My Blessings! first appeared on Acts10.

Post Summary:

I returned from Kenya to Costa Rica in mid-April after facing intense spiritual and real-world challenges. Acts10 Clinic has been running for three months, offering trauma support and healthcare services despite low patient numbers and many obstacles. I encountered major betrayal by Oscar, the corrupt leader of HAIG, who physically assaulted me and tried to sabotage the clinic. By God’s grace, we moved the clinic to a safer, independent location with legal protection. Financial support for Acts10 remains scarce, despite personal sacrifices and outreach efforts. Meanwhile, I’ll soon start a job in Ontario, Canada, to rebuild my finances and continue supporting the clinic. Though Plan A failed, the mission continues—and God will be glorified.

I returned to Costa Rica from Kenya on April 12th, and got back to my house on the 13th. But I needed time to process. Spiritual warfare is real. Apparently, dark energy and dark matter, which we cannot directly observe, comprise 95% of the universe. So, we can see, feel, or otherwise perceive around five percent of all that exists. When we try to do things that honor God, we often meet resistance. Our struggle is not against flesh and blood . . .  (Eph 6:12).  

A lot has happened over the last three months. By the grace of God, Acts10 Clinic has been running for three months now, and trauma support groups have started that draw good numbers! While the number of patients on a given clinic day hasn’t risen above seven or eight, the number serviced typically doubles when including those who come for those support groups. People get PrEP as well as sexual, mental, and general health care. I have seen several cases of typhoid, a couple of malaria, amoebiasis, recurrent Bell’s palsy presumably due to HSV, lots of H. pylori gastritis/PUD, HIV, syphilis, genital herpes, gonorrhea and chlamydia, lymphogranuloma venereum (from chlamydia), Mycoplasma genitalium and Ureaplasma urealyticum infections, asthma, and seasonal allergies, strep tonsillitis, viral URIs, facial trauma from brutal attacks, and mental health concerns such as MDD from trauma.   

In poor countries, one must remain alert for scams. Lots of Kenyans are opportunists. If they see a chance to get something for nothing, they will take it. Caucasians may as well have dollar signs tattooed on their foreheads, chests, and backs. We may not frequently fall prey to violent crimes, but we will make prime targets for scams. We cannot live here independently, because if it doesn’t have a barcode on it or you don’t buy it online, we will pay two or three times the going rate simply because people assume we have money. I had a lady, a stranger, come up to me in the street and ask me to buy her a soda. Another couple of times, a guy walked with me on the street, in a non-threatening manner that still made me uncomfortable, talking with me in order to seek financial support.  I respectfully declined and walked away quickly in these cases. 

I know God brought me to HAIG (Humanity Aid Initiative Group), as I had seen the place before in dreams. At the same time, the man who rents the property has proven himself a fraud. Actually, more than that—a malignant narcissist with antisocial tendencies as well. His lies to me regarding a wealthy Sikh, Inderjit Singh, supporting the ministry started in March of 2024 and involved a fake Facebook account, WhatsApp account, etc. I think he had help with his scheme.  

In fact, a number of wealthy Sikhs do exist in Nairobi and many actively support the LGBTQ+ community. Descendants of those brought here as servants of British colonizers, they have subsequently attained inordinate wealth.  But Oscar is a straight Kenyan male with a wife, kids, and an alcohol use disorder. He runs HAIG, a shelter for LGBTQ+ refugees, dependent on grants, donations, and private foreign aid. He lies, manipulates, and misuses funds. Oscar Odera Long has a very fragile ego, needs to be in control, gets angry when he isn’t, and threatens violence against those who oppose him, including women. I previously married (2000) and divorced (2012) a borderline narcissist. North America doesn’t have a monopoly on them, though. Like an abused wife or girlfriend leaving her abuser, the greatest danger for her comes when she leaves.  

Oscar gave me a black eye yesterday, April 7th, with the end of a metal pipe he carried around threatening me and those helping me move.  Actually, he threatened to beat and kill Moureen, as he supposed that she had conspired to draw me and the clinic away from him. She didn’t. I figured out that I needed to leave all by myself. Even if she had, she would have been spot-on correct! He threatened to beat me too, but just ended up jabbing me once in the face with the metal pipe he toted. But that was it. At only about 5’6”, overweight, and out of shape, he didn’t dare attack anyone without a six-foot metal pipe in his hand. Narcissists make colossal cowards.  

He had unfortunately heard from someone else helping me when we planned to move, so he had assembled a posse in the AM and started drinking early with them. He brought them there to intimidate and possibly beat us. I do not know for certain if the guys he had assembled knew why he had invited them there that morning. Drunk before noon, they left us alone as I ran the last clinic there–until they didn’t. He came out with a crazy look of rage in his eyes as we tried to leave with the furniture and supplies I had bought myself for the clinic. They, Oscar and two of the refugees that stay with him there, blocked us and refused to open the gate. Meanwhile, Oscar spewed lies about me owing him money for rent, etc. I don’t owe him any money. He had made up the existence of Inderjit Singh, as above, and invited me to come there at no cost to me. Then, when Mr. Singh reportedly died of cancer shortly after my arrival, he turned to me to pay the rent, utilities, etc. He had set me up. I did pay rent for one month before I was certain he had lied to me.  He’d said I hadn’t told him I was leaving. I had, on WhatsApp on March 13th. He responded to that message, and knew perfectly well. Plus, he had assembled his posse, because he knew we were leaving. Actually, he owes me 480,000 Ksh, a bit over $3000 USD. I doubt I’ll ever see it, but he did sign a contract to repay me 20,000 Ksh/month over 24 months on March 17th. In the end, we could not safely get the fridge out or the divider for the lab area in the clinic. He also specifically stole my pots and pans that I purchased and the bit of alcohol I had left in the apartment. I also couldn’t go back for the broom and dust pan I bought, but we got out mostly safely. Someone stole my phone from Costa Rica too, and a full box of condoms, lol. I filed a police report, and I am still waiting for the police to arrest Oscar.  

By God’s grace, one of the doctors who will staff the clinic when I leave, Dr. Wyckliffe Okumu, helped me get an Oscar-free place to run the clinic out of. I started staying at WOFAR (Women for African Refugee Care) after he had become threatening a few weeks earlier, and another friend stayed in the old clinic/my apartment at HAIG until we could move–so my things, the clinic supplies, and meds didn’t disappear or get destroyed. Dr. Okumu had also helped ensure that the clinic received appropriate licensure and legal status, so that even if Oscar followed through on his threat to report me/the clinic to the local authorities, we have all the necessary documents. Oscar did this deliberately as the documents he initially got for me, at great expense to me, were fakes. He probably intended to keep me and the clinic there under this threat, so he could use the clinic for further fundraising and status in the community. At this point, however, other shelter leaders in the area now know me and know about Oscar. He has already gravely damaged his own cause.  

The new place is also not co-located with another shelter. The Acts10 Clinic has rented its own private property, and we will not have shelters competing with one another over control of it. Furthermore, it lies in a gated community with a security guard, so Oscar and crew can remain excluded.  God provided HAIG for Acts10 Clinic as a stepping stone. What God has not provided for, at least to this point, is adequate financial support.  

One private donor has given me over $2000 thus far in 2025. You know who you are and thank you! After hoping to receive money from my home church in Indianapolis for several months, they gave me $1000. I have also solicited assistance from a megachurch in Indianapolis, the church I grew up attending, but I’ve only gotten crickets thus far. Even from the new pastor from Kenya—no response. I’ve tried to get support from them for over two years, but megachurches determine where their money goes at least a year in advance, and despite having it as my home church for roughly 35-38 years of my life, I haven’t managed to break in. I have generally received the same response from other LGBTQ+-friendly churches in the greater Indianapolis area as well. Silence.  

I spent a little under $65,000 last year on Acts10. Now, I have stopped funding all three shelters I previously supported. Facebook likes don’t translate into cash, and it’s “America First,” right? [Sarcasm intended.] One shelter admittedly misused funds, but the people responsible left. They have other supporters and will survive. The other two shelters do not have other supporters, and one of them, the one in Uganda, has disbanded or will shortly. The other shelter, WOFAR, has an amazing chicken project that will make them self-sustaining—if they can only get over the hump. I have received exactly zero dollars for them. The leaders of these two shelters have so much integrity and deserve support. But God relies on people to whom He gave free will. If plan A fails, plans B through Z can come into play. This all takes time though. 

In the interim, God has provided for me. Despite the facts that my beautiful Airbnb/Vrbo in Costa Rica has gotten negligible business (absolutely none from outside Costa Rica), my duplex flip in Indianapolis has languished on the market for three months since Trump took office, and I can’t use the tax deductions for that property til next year, I now have a job in Southern Ontario! Now that I’ve almost completely single-handedly paid for my two daughters’ college education, I can slowly get out of debt, save to buy a home there, and continue to support Acts10 Clinic. Bianca and Sophia both graduate from their respective programs next month. I will have to abandon my attempt at permanent residency in Costa Rica at this point. I can’t work here—not even with the Bribri or other underserved indigenous population. I asked. I can start that over later. But in late May, I will start working at a clinic in Township of Leeds and Thousand Islands, ON. I’ll have a fabulous sign-on bonus and a relocation allowance as well. The area’s cost of living falls significantly below most of ON, and the very best and most important part—it’s NOT in the US! I would rather face poverty than do primary care in our for-profit, corporate-dominated system of health care.  

I still hope to receive support for Acts10 and especially for the clinic. We’ll keep trying for grants and church as well as individual support. I still pay the physicians’ salaries—a fraction of what one might receive in North America. The clinic will continue to need more medications and supplies. We hope to open the clinic to paying community members soon as well to help support the cause. I wonder if we’re on plan D or E, or more like Q, or R. Regardless, God will receive glory. I hope more people take the opportunity to give and support this ministry.  

The post Kenya ’25—Highs, Lows, and the Future  first appeared on Acts10.

   So long as Francis remains in Kakuma, they can access free health care through UNHCR. If Francis has a condition that requires care in a more advanced hospital, the UNHCR hospital in Kakuma can refer them to a hospital within Nairobi where their health care will be completely covered by UNHCR.    

  Francis does not feel safe in Kakuma and decides not to stay, but to go to Nairobi instead. Francis somehow gets money for a bus trip to Nairobi and joins a shelter in or around the greater Nairobi area. They have no covered health care here. If they need to go to an ER or remain in a hospital for any reason, they either need to have someone pay for their stay or they must return to Kakuma for their health care. Kakuma is very, very far, and is best accessed by plane from Nairobi. A refugee could return to Kakuma from Nairobi via bus. This 14-hour trip, would cost about 1600 Ksh or $12.60 USD. This would not include any food for the way or transportation to the bus station in Nairobi. Those expenses would aproximately double the cost to around $25 USD. Refugees have no money though, and cannot even come to the free Acts10 Clinic without transportation support of 500 Ksh or $3.86 USD. Unless the shelter where Francis stays has funds to send them back to Kakuma via bus, they will not receive health care. 

   Enter Acts10 Clinic! Acts10 Clinic provides free health care to refugees, targeting the numerous LGBTQ+ shelters in Ongata Rongai. The meager 500 Ksh in transportation assistance would not draw refugees outside of this Nairobi suburb, as those from Nairobi would require two to four times that amount for a round trip. We cannot afford to offer more than this though, and we do not have a way to prove that patients come from where they say they do. So, we simply offer a low, flat amount. Otherwise, patients would come from two blocks away and say they came from the west side of Nairobi in order to get some extra cash at our expense. At least we have provided this much-needed service for this vulnerable population in Ongata Rongai. 

The post Kenyan Refugees Cannot Access Healthcare Outside of Kakuma Refugee Camp first appeared on Acts10.