Our Mission Trip to the Northern Cheyenne Indian Nation – home of the "Tsistsistas" or the "Beautiful People"

      For quite some time, I had been thinking about American Indians. I had been thinking about "our" – the white man’s – history with Indians and the horrible atrocities we committed against them. I wondered how Indians view the white man today and what it would be like to interact with this people group on their home turf. Above all, I wondered if we had been (or ever would be) forgiven.

      I was curious about Indian culture and the state of Indian communities and families. I wondered what it was (or would be) like to live on a reservation.

      I shared my desire with Gene Kissinger, the mission’s pastor at my church (Cherry Hills Community Church). He told me about an opportunity to join a mission team that was taking a trip to the Northern Cheyenne Indian Nation – home of the "Tsistsistas" or the "Beautiful People". I contacted the team leader and immediately started doing some research on the tribe. I eagerly looked forward to exploring the rich providential heritage of the Northern Cheyenne Indians.

      Beyond learning about the history of this people group, I learned that the Northern Cheyenne live in adjunct poverty with household incomes of less than $5,000 a year, that the unemployment rate exceeds 50%, that alcoholism and drug abuse are rampant, that domestic violence is a major problem, and that child and sexual abuse is commonplace.

      I also learned about the Sand Creek Massacre – an unbelievably dark event in American history. In 1864, as hostilities with the white man were reaching a pinnacle, Black Kettle, the leader of the Sand Creek Indian village, made it clear to Colonel John M. Chivington of the Colorado Militia that he did not want to fight. He raised an American and a white flag above his tent and sent his messengers to communicate his position (that he did not want to fight) to the Colonel who, in turn, ignored his message, attacked his village (along with 700 militia troops), and ultimately proceeded to slaughter and mutilate more than 150 Indians – mostly women, children, and old men.

      It is interesting to note that PresidentGeorge W. Bush recently signed legislation (sponsored by Rep. Marilyn Musgrave and Sen. Wayne Allard) creating the Sand Creek Massacre National Historic Site. This was the culmination of a process initiated in 1998 by then Sen. Ben Nighthorse Campbell – a Northern Cheyenne chief who retired from Congress early this year.

      I also learned about Custer’s last stand or the Battle of Little Big Horn where, in 1876, the Cheyenne (and Dakota) Indians defeated the 7th Calvary led by General Custer.

      I tried to imagine what it would have been like to live back then. What would it be like to see people in your village (in your neighborhood) get killed? What would it be like to be forced to take up arms and fight to protect the people you love (your friends and family) or take the life of another human being? How easy was it (back then) for "hatred to turn into violence and death"?

      I thought about terrorism and the people who hate us and what they are willing to do (September 11th) and how we responded (the war in Iraq and Afghanistan). I thought about the time, effort, energy, and resources that are expended in war to hunt down and kill others. I thought about all the death and destruction – all the pain and suffering.

      It all made me think about God’s greatest commandment "to love the Lord with all our heart, mind, and soul and to love one another". I wondered if the Northern Cheyenne people could ever love (or trust) this white man or any other white man for that matter. I wondered how we (our team) would be received.

      Being a pilot and having an ownership interest in a Cirrus SR-20 (a single-engine, four-place aircraft), I was intrigued by the opportunity to fly the airplane on this trip. At one of our team meetings, I recruited a couple of companions (Holly and her son Tyler) to join me.

      The flight to the nearest airport (Colstrip, Montana) took about 2 hours and 45 minutes which is far better than a 9 hour drive in a 14 passenger van and even better than the airlines (by the time one flies from Denver International Airport to Billings, rents a car, and drives to Birney). Needless to say, I am a true believer of "general aviation".

      We stayed at the Super 8 Motel in Colstrip and caught a ride each day (with the team) from Colstrip to Birney and back. It took about 45 minutes each way –about the same as Denver to Colorado Springs (without traffic). The road, which is paved a good part of the way and dirt the rest, passes through Lame Deer – the tribal and community center for the Northern Cheyenne Indians.

      At the request of Pastor Dean of the Morning Star Baptist Church located in Lame Deer, we were going to be spending the majority of our time in Birney. The church had a building (in this small village) that wasn’t being used much and Pastor Dean wanted us to set-up a general store there (since the nearest store is 20 miles away in Lame Deer), prayer walk through the community (praying for all the people on a house-by-house basis), and invite the people to some outreach events (where food would be served and fun would be had by all).

      The small, very remote, enclave of Birney is located 100 miles east of Billings, Montana and 75 north of Sheridan, Wyoming in the southern portion of the Northern Cheyenne reservation (the "res") next to the Tongue River. This tiny town is located in the middle of one of the most desolate (isolated) areas of the U.S. While some cattle are raised in the area, agriculture is virtually non-existent since the land is not fertile and unable to yield any crops with the exception of hay.

      Before turning us loose, Pastor Dean gave us the lay of the land and an idea of what we could expect as we interacted with the people in Birney. He told us that the res is a sovereign nation – recognized by the U.S. Government – and that the tribe has their own government, police force (and judicial system), fire department, and most importantly, their own way of doing things. He encouraged us to stay out of trouble. He also indicated that Birney has (historically) been a place of exile – a place where Indians who had committed crimes were sent and then kept isolated from the rest of the tribe. In a highly relational culture, this is, perhaps, the worse penalty for an Indian.

      Being my first mission trip, I really didn’t know what to expect, but I looked forward to learning more about this people group and interacting with them. I viewed our mission as entering the lives of these people, meeting with (coming alongside) of them, listening to them, respecting them, having some fun with them (sharing some laughs), helping them, and just plain loving them the best way I knew how or could determine based upon my interaction with them. We would also seek to share the gospel of Jesus Christ and engage them in conversations about the bible, church, prayer, and love.

      Over the course of three days, we had plenty of opportunities to do all of these things. Our team of 25 people prayer walked throughout the entire community every day; we prayed from the high place overlooking the village every day; we cleaned up a community park located in the center of the village – we cut and trimmed the grass that had grown 3 feet tall in some places, we removed all the trash, and we repainted all of the play equipment; we mowed and trimmed a couple the lawns for people who couldn’t do it themselves; we sat, talked, walked, and prayed with Indian families; we set up the general store; we held outreach events (we had BBQs, games, and crafts) every night; we played basketball, volleyball, badminton, and four square; and, we had a movie night complete with popcorn and soda.

      We worked hard to connect with these people and in some cases, it was readily apparent that we did exactly that. While we used all means available to us, we must give all the credit to God. Without the movement of the Holy Spirit within our group and throughout the town of Birney, nothing would have happened during our trip – nobody would have been reached or impacted in any significant way.

      Mariah, a young Indian girl who just turned 12 years old, told one of our team members that she wanted to be a pastor – like Pastor Dean. Another young woman, 17 year old Bethany, talked about going to cosmetology school in Billings. She seemed to have a sincere desire to make something of her life and perhaps, once day, to get off the res.

      I was able to connect with a couple of young Indian boys (17 year old AJ and 12 year old Eric) playing basketball. For the first couple of days, it was the white men versus the Indians. We played hard and the games were close, but each day, we prevailed. In the humid 95 degree heat and among swarms of blood thirsty mosquitoes, AJ and I would chase each other around the court, get in each other’s face, and challenge each other. Beyond providing hours of entertainment for the players and the spectators who would gather around the court, it seemed that, every day, through these games, we gained more and more respect of the kids. At some point, Mariah and AJ started referring to me as the "old man" which I attributed to my increasingly graying hair and goatee – only the oldest Indians (elders) has gray hair. In any event, as best I could tell and after asking some of the team members, I think they respected me (on one hand), but couldn’t resist the opportunity to diss me (on the other hand) so I went along with it.

      On the last day, we mixed up the teams and Eric had an exceptional game scoring the majority of points for our team. It was fun to watch Eric step-up and excel as we included him in our plays. It was amazing to see him feed on the encouragement that we gave him – he just ate it up – better yet, he wolfed it down. After the game, it seemed that every time I saw him, he had a smile from ear-to-ear on his young, innocent Indian face.

      It made me think of the book of James and all the verses about the tongue and how powerful it can be – devastating in one instance and encouraging in another.

      It also made me think about how blessed we are to live in this country, this great state, and the wonderful community of Highlands Ranch. It made me think about how fortunate I am to have a roof over my head, a refrigerator full of food and drink, a car to get around, a rewarding job, a great church, wonderful friends and family, and a loving and dedicated wife.

      It made me think about God – how good He is, how much He cares about us, and how much He loves us. It was an honor and a privilege to be part of this (His) team – I would highly recommend that everyone take a trip like this someday.

      This was the third year that a team from Cherry Hills Community Church visited the Northern Cheyenne Indians and I imagine (God willing) that it won’t be the last.