Cheap thrills. Those cars cost around $2.
Sunday, September 28, 2008
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Conduit The Kingdoms Of This World...
I was listening to NPR. (there I said it, I listen to NPR) and I heard an interview with someone who said “I hope Barack Obama gets elected, he is our only hope”. She sounded desperate. She meant it. It is a sad day when our political candidates are our only hope.
I have definite opinions about whom can best lead us into the future, but I am utterly and perfectly convinced that neither of them can “save” us. Not in a spiritual way, nor can they do so in a natural way.
It is a perfect example of understatement to suggest that there are no easy solutions to our fuel crisis, to our economic crisis nor do we have any simple solutions for our national security. (unless you count my Grandfathers solutions which are to “put them all on an island and blow them the hell up”)
Both candidates have promised exactly what every other candidate has promised in the past few decades and have all failed to deliver on. There is a reason that our country no longer trusts our politicians. (It’s easy to get caught up in the approval rating for the President that hovers around 30% but the last time I checked, the approval rating for Congress was in single digits.)
Our country is in debt $500 billion dollars to China alone. The total debt that America owes to other countries is in the trillions. Can someone please tell me what the monthly on that monthly payment is?
In a top down type scenario, the people of our country are in personal debt that equals hundreds of billions of dollars. The solution for our politicians have come up with for the economy is to charge $700 Billion dollars (more than the entire cost of the Iraq war to date which is $600 Billion) and free up more credit so we can charge more stuff. I wonder if these guys could maybe make a phone call to the Dave Ramsey Show before signing this.
It is well above my pay grade and outside of my spiritual gifting to know what the Congress should do. However, it is well within me to suggest that we not panic. We don’t have to panic. Fear is the opposite of Faith. We can absolutely and positively be in this world and not of it. To quote the Word… “fear not”.
We live in a different economy and in a different Kingdom. Will our economy survive this crisis? Beats me. Will the Church survive this? Absolutely. And likely will thrive in it. Historically and presently the Church is always at it’s finest when the chips are down.
There have been cries for a “third party “ to arise. Personally I think it is time. Neither party speaks for me nor my beliefs wholly. I personally believe that the murder of an unborn child is unequivocally murder. I also believe that we should be fighting for the poor and the oppressed in our society. Which party represents me?
Right now the country is worried. Without Christ they have good reason to be. They have put their hope in the kingdoms of this world. The very kingdoms that Revelation 11 says will ultimately become the Kingdom of our Lord. That is not hyperbole. Jesus is coming back, opening up a can of Whoop God setting everything right, repaying all the evildoers for their work and taking over. Chavez, Mugabe and Ahmadinejad and all others who have participated in willful oppression, genocide and holocaust: He’s coming for you, and as Abraham suggested; the God of all the Universe will do what is right.
He’s not doing it because of some sort of Messiah complex. He’s doing it because He knows what we have slowly figured out; we can’t do it on our own. Maybe instead of a third political party to arise, it’s time for the Church to take her rightful place.
Let’s put down our bullhorns and protest signs and petitions and talking heads and roll up our sleeves. Let’s open our doors, our hearts, our money and our energy to serving the poor and the oppressed. The World has decided that the Church is about hating Gays, being pro gun and anti media. (does anybody remember the boycott on Disney?) They’ve decided this because that’s pretty much the majority of what they see and hear from us.
Instead of telling them what we’re for, let’s just be for it. Let’s just do it. I’m excited about the fact that Journey Church is calling on our family to spend one Sunday a month in community around us serving the unlovely, the widows, the orphans the ones that Jesus Himself suggested we serve. (can you believe a Pastor is asking the people to NOT go to church once a month?)
I’m excited about the work that Pastor Lafluer is doing with Restoration Ministries in Jacmel Haiti.
I’m excited about the work that is going on in Columbia TN with Place of Hope.
I'm downright encouraged when I think of the work that my friends in Compassion and World Vision are currently doing across the globe.
I’m in awe of the fact that one of my neighbors his adopting a baby from Haiti.
I’m excited to say that the Church is alive and well, and pray that In the meantime.
What if all of us got the picture crystal clear. What if every believer and every church made this desire to follow Christ in serving the oppressed on the front of their agenda and not as an afterthought. Let’s be honest, all those post card mailings and radio ads to “reach” people don’t work anyway.
What if we realized that we didn’t just sign up for this ride to get a ticket out of hell but to be an active, living part of the Body of Christ and His implementing arm in this earth? Is it possible that we could get everyone that is on the bench off and in the game. Is it possible that we could get everyone to stand a post? I think it is.
Conduit has just celebrated our first year anniversary. We have seen somewhere near $35,000 flow through our doors. In this next year I dare say that it will not just be money flowing through us, but the power of the Holy Spirit in each of us individually with creative ideas and solutions that are from the Father.
Maybe some are feeling the winds of change blowing that I feel. God is calling you and I to a higher level of service and sacrifice. It’s not a bummer. It’s a blessing! ONLY in losing your life you will find it Jesus said. What an irony when you consider how much time and energy we expend on “finding ourselves”.
So what can you and I do? First listen to the voice of the Spirit. There is plenty all around. Conduit works with ministry partners in Haiti that need plenty of help right now.
If you haven’t, please go to www.darrentyler.com and look at the pictures I posted there from the recent hurricane in Haiti. Some of the images are disturbing, but they are truth. If you feel led to help them you can go to www.conduitmission.org and make a donation towards our friends in Jacmel, Haiti. All of the money will flow right into their hands.
I’ll bet that there are options in your current church right now that maybe you don’t’ know about. Whatever your situation, there is definitely something. I would just ask you to quietly seek the Lord. I’m sure He’s speaking.
For those of you who can join us Monday night I am back in the saddle and have been so full from my recent journeys. I think it’ll be a special night. Hope you can make it. 7:30pm at Buildigng 8 in the Factory in Franklin, TN
www.darrentyler.podomatic.com
I have definite opinions about whom can best lead us into the future, but I am utterly and perfectly convinced that neither of them can “save” us. Not in a spiritual way, nor can they do so in a natural way.
It is a perfect example of understatement to suggest that there are no easy solutions to our fuel crisis, to our economic crisis nor do we have any simple solutions for our national security. (unless you count my Grandfathers solutions which are to “put them all on an island and blow them the hell up”)
Both candidates have promised exactly what every other candidate has promised in the past few decades and have all failed to deliver on. There is a reason that our country no longer trusts our politicians. (It’s easy to get caught up in the approval rating for the President that hovers around 30% but the last time I checked, the approval rating for Congress was in single digits.)
Our country is in debt $500 billion dollars to China alone. The total debt that America owes to other countries is in the trillions. Can someone please tell me what the monthly on that monthly payment is?
In a top down type scenario, the people of our country are in personal debt that equals hundreds of billions of dollars. The solution for our politicians have come up with for the economy is to charge $700 Billion dollars (more than the entire cost of the Iraq war to date which is $600 Billion) and free up more credit so we can charge more stuff. I wonder if these guys could maybe make a phone call to the Dave Ramsey Show before signing this.
It is well above my pay grade and outside of my spiritual gifting to know what the Congress should do. However, it is well within me to suggest that we not panic. We don’t have to panic. Fear is the opposite of Faith. We can absolutely and positively be in this world and not of it. To quote the Word… “fear not”.
We live in a different economy and in a different Kingdom. Will our economy survive this crisis? Beats me. Will the Church survive this? Absolutely. And likely will thrive in it. Historically and presently the Church is always at it’s finest when the chips are down.
There have been cries for a “third party “ to arise. Personally I think it is time. Neither party speaks for me nor my beliefs wholly. I personally believe that the murder of an unborn child is unequivocally murder. I also believe that we should be fighting for the poor and the oppressed in our society. Which party represents me?
Right now the country is worried. Without Christ they have good reason to be. They have put their hope in the kingdoms of this world. The very kingdoms that Revelation 11 says will ultimately become the Kingdom of our Lord. That is not hyperbole. Jesus is coming back, opening up a can of Whoop God setting everything right, repaying all the evildoers for their work and taking over. Chavez, Mugabe and Ahmadinejad and all others who have participated in willful oppression, genocide and holocaust: He’s coming for you, and as Abraham suggested; the God of all the Universe will do what is right.
He’s not doing it because of some sort of Messiah complex. He’s doing it because He knows what we have slowly figured out; we can’t do it on our own. Maybe instead of a third political party to arise, it’s time for the Church to take her rightful place.
Let’s put down our bullhorns and protest signs and petitions and talking heads and roll up our sleeves. Let’s open our doors, our hearts, our money and our energy to serving the poor and the oppressed. The World has decided that the Church is about hating Gays, being pro gun and anti media. (does anybody remember the boycott on Disney?) They’ve decided this because that’s pretty much the majority of what they see and hear from us.
Instead of telling them what we’re for, let’s just be for it. Let’s just do it. I’m excited about the fact that Journey Church is calling on our family to spend one Sunday a month in community around us serving the unlovely, the widows, the orphans the ones that Jesus Himself suggested we serve. (can you believe a Pastor is asking the people to NOT go to church once a month?)
I’m excited about the work that Pastor Lafluer is doing with Restoration Ministries in Jacmel Haiti.
I’m excited about the work that is going on in Columbia TN with Place of Hope.
I'm downright encouraged when I think of the work that my friends in Compassion and World Vision are currently doing across the globe.
I’m in awe of the fact that one of my neighbors his adopting a baby from Haiti.
I’m excited to say that the Church is alive and well, and pray that In the meantime.
What if all of us got the picture crystal clear. What if every believer and every church made this desire to follow Christ in serving the oppressed on the front of their agenda and not as an afterthought. Let’s be honest, all those post card mailings and radio ads to “reach” people don’t work anyway.
What if we realized that we didn’t just sign up for this ride to get a ticket out of hell but to be an active, living part of the Body of Christ and His implementing arm in this earth? Is it possible that we could get everyone that is on the bench off and in the game. Is it possible that we could get everyone to stand a post? I think it is.
Conduit has just celebrated our first year anniversary. We have seen somewhere near $35,000 flow through our doors. In this next year I dare say that it will not just be money flowing through us, but the power of the Holy Spirit in each of us individually with creative ideas and solutions that are from the Father.
Maybe some are feeling the winds of change blowing that I feel. God is calling you and I to a higher level of service and sacrifice. It’s not a bummer. It’s a blessing! ONLY in losing your life you will find it Jesus said. What an irony when you consider how much time and energy we expend on “finding ourselves”.
So what can you and I do? First listen to the voice of the Spirit. There is plenty all around. Conduit works with ministry partners in Haiti that need plenty of help right now.
If you haven’t, please go to www.darrentyler.com and look at the pictures I posted there from the recent hurricane in Haiti. Some of the images are disturbing, but they are truth. If you feel led to help them you can go to www.conduitmission.org and make a donation towards our friends in Jacmel, Haiti. All of the money will flow right into their hands.
I’ll bet that there are options in your current church right now that maybe you don’t’ know about. Whatever your situation, there is definitely something. I would just ask you to quietly seek the Lord. I’m sure He’s speaking.
For those of you who can join us Monday night I am back in the saddle and have been so full from my recent journeys. I think it’ll be a special night. Hope you can make it. 7:30pm at Buildigng 8 in the Factory in Franklin, TN
www.darrentyler.podomatic.com
Photos from Hurricane in Haiti
These photos were sent to me from Pastor Lafluer in Jacmel Haiti. He is with Restoration Ministries who is directly supported by Conduit.
Be warned that a couple of these images are disturbing. I feel compelled to share them because they are truth.
Be warned that a couple of these images are disturbing. I feel compelled to share them because they are truth.
Friday, September 26, 2008
German Engineered spider
There is no possible way for this video to capture how large this spider was. Nor can it explain how little I slept after realizing they make spiders this big in Germany.
Monday, September 22, 2008
Germany or Bust... so far it's a bust
Yesterday the Lord gave me an opportunity to look adversity in the eye and respond with the Grace and Love that only comes through the Father. It was a test that I had taken before, a test that usually comes as more of a pop quiz style test. Sadly I failed it miserably. The test? United Airlines.
The first leg of this multiple part examination of my spiritual maturity began with the ticket agent at Nashville International airport. We’ll call her “Marge” for the purposes of anonymity and entertainment.
Marge was dimly lit in every sense of the word. It seemed as if there were synapses firing in her brain, but just not in any particular order that would allow her to make good decisions in trying times. This was evidenced by the fact that she printed my boarding passes on a flight that was delayed to the point that I would have 10 minutes to make it across Washington Dulles onto my international flight to Frankfurt, Germany.
There were myriad more confusing moments to come including her not realizing that I had been booked on Business class at a significantly increased cost which required her to start over… again. After what seemed around 30 minutes, we told her we would just work it out at the gate.
Imagine our surprise when we arrived at the gate to find “Marge” now working as the gate agent. It was like I had stumbled into an episode of Seinfeld. There she was. 15 people backed up in line and that same dimly lit look in her eyes that conveyed a deep desire to understand, but no ability to actually connect lucid thoughts. At one moment, she announced to the gathered crowd that the delayed flight would take off at the scheduled delayed time of 2:21. The problem? It was 2:10 and there wasn’t even a plane at the gate let alone ready to be deplaned. We would ultimately take off at 3pm.
We had a flight to connect with in Dulles that would take us to Frankfurt where many things were already planned and ready to go. There were people that would be waiting and a schedule with the USO to be kept.
Upon arriving in Dulles we found ourselves in the middle of one of the nations larger airports with no idea which way to go, or if we were going to make our flight because our connection had since been delayed. Unfortunately it wasn’t delayed enough, the flight had left 30 minutes earlier.
We moved with purpose and urgency across the entirety of Dulles. I can’t possibly understand how so much square footage can exist and still be inside but it does. It was like running the half marathon in boots and with a back pack. This must be what it felt like in the Biodome.
You see, “Marge” had booked us on the next flight out as a back up plan. This was a rare moment of clarity in “Marge’s” life and inside I celebrated with her because I knew that these moments were far and few between. Unfortunately that internal celebration came to a screeching halt when I met the new rain on our parade at gate D15. I don’t even know what his name was but of all the ways I could describe this man, “helpful” would not be one of them. Nor would kind, gracious, or interested.
Along with the cadre of other people standing around wondering if they were going to Germany; I was not a part of his job, I was an interruption of it. In a very dismissive tone he informed me that “marge” had not actually booked us on the flight but rather put us on the stand by list. Suddenly I understood why she couldn’t print the boarding passes in Nashville. She said the printer was broken. I fell for the oldest trick in the ticket agent book. The ol’ “printer is broken” trick. I felt stupid, and aware that I was not going to Germany on this night.
It is at this moment that I would like to tell you that I stopped, thanked God for this trial and maybe hummed a few bars of that Amy Grant song about angels. Perhaps God kept me off that plane for a reason. Unfortunately that is not what happened.
After being treated with multiple levels of condescension and dismissive tones the flight was closed and we were instructed to go to “Customer Service”. The term customer service by it’s very nature denotes a place where the customer will be served. It would probably be a better and more accurate term if it were called Customer Time Waster.
Along with my friends I waited in line for about 45 minutes while the 2 agents wasted the time of the people in front of me. It would have probably taken longer except for attrition. (several people gave up in haste before ever reaching the counter of terror) For those that did manage to wait; One by one they would walk away from the desk with looks of disgust, disdain and rejection. It looked like the line of the guys in high school being rejected by the hot girl in school. (a line I was all too familiar with)
I was greeted by my biggest challenge of the day. This gauntlet would end with a 4’ 11” Asian lady who was not in the mood to be trifled with. I was basically informed that the next available flight was Monday night (24 hours later). When asked about help with hotels or food or for that matter underwear she called some number where some potentially pretend person on the other line said that the flight was delayed due to air traffic control (it was not) and thus it was not their fault and they wouldn’t help with hotels or even a tooth brush. Unless we were having a medical emergency we couldn't even get our luggage.
It was at this moment that I slid into the cranky old man mode and exclaimed very loudly “Well you guys are really a piece of work aren’t you!?!!?” Loudly so that those in line behind me could understand my outrage and perhaps feel some sort of solidarity with my plight. I was then informed that I could go down to the other customer service where they handle requests like mine.
I swear I’m not making that up. This was the “express” customer service even though no sign described it that way nor what that would mean if it was an express customer service. We walked by the other customer service counter on our way to the hotel and saw a line that was longer, more disgusted, and more rejected. I talked to a couple of people in the line who had moved 10 feet in the past hour. They still had 20 feet to go.
Now to be clear, my attitude at this point was at best disagreeable and at worst purely toxic. Somebody made the statement that we would laugh about this some day. I immediately dismissed that idea. I would never laugh about this. I was in a surly mood.
So surly that when we finally got to the hotel and I laid down I couldn’t sleep. I got up and actually spent 30 minutes filling out the www.ualsurvey.com I swear it took 30 minutes not because I had so much to write but because that is how the survey is designed. Even their customer service survey is a pain in the butt with this company. If you're unhappy you're going to have to work at it to tell someone.
Be that as it may, I was undeterred. I was sure I would hit send and it would go to the nowhere part of the world where spare socks from the dryer go, but it was cathartic and it felt like a perfect use of my indignation. I used large and scorching words like “antipathy”, “aversion” and “surfeit”. If they weren’t going to do anything about it then at least I could sting them with a good vocabulary. (for some reason that felt like the way that I could show them something. What I’m not sure, but something)
I finally laid down around 1am. Sleepy and convicted. A guilty conscience is not a good pillow nor a comfortable bed. I was reminded of Jacob laying his head down on a rock and going to sleep.
I was in Africa only two weeks ago. Almost every child I encountered would never see the inside of a jet plane let alone lay on a bed with pillows. I was incensed, but with a full stomach from the nice restaurant in the hotel. I was disgruntled, but very clean from the granite tile shower with multiple water jet locations. I was exasperated laying on a bed with a down comforter and feather pillows with the temperature set at a crisp 65 degrees. I repented immediately.
I woke up this morning with the idea that Gods mercies are new every morning. I wondered if United’s incompetence would be new as well. If it were then I planned to hit it with a whole new outlook and strategy. I planned to reconnect to the vine and let the fruit of the spirit flow through me. Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, patience, which is to say none of what I showed yesterday.
I’m sitting in the United Airlines airport lounge in Washington Dulles as I write this. I'm sitting in yesterdays clothes save for a brand new pair of .99 socks and $3 tighty whiteys from CVS pharmacy. Strangely everyone we’ve encountered today has been pleasant, helpful, and agreeable. I’m prepared for the worst, but God has brought me the best.
As I've said before "fruit" is a result of actions that took place long ago. A tree planted by the water, a branch connected to the vine will produce fruit all on it's own. No need for working at it. It just happens. It would seem as though my branch might not be as connected to the vine as I had hoped.
Perhaps that goes back to the pop quiz though about the tests. I failed it yesterday. I’m sure I’ll get to take it again. Maybe not today, but some day soon. Maybe this isn't so much a test of how I can respond when I'm planning on it, but rather what is my go to instincts
I’ll let you know how it goes.
The first leg of this multiple part examination of my spiritual maturity began with the ticket agent at Nashville International airport. We’ll call her “Marge” for the purposes of anonymity and entertainment.
Marge was dimly lit in every sense of the word. It seemed as if there were synapses firing in her brain, but just not in any particular order that would allow her to make good decisions in trying times. This was evidenced by the fact that she printed my boarding passes on a flight that was delayed to the point that I would have 10 minutes to make it across Washington Dulles onto my international flight to Frankfurt, Germany.
There were myriad more confusing moments to come including her not realizing that I had been booked on Business class at a significantly increased cost which required her to start over… again. After what seemed around 30 minutes, we told her we would just work it out at the gate.
Imagine our surprise when we arrived at the gate to find “Marge” now working as the gate agent. It was like I had stumbled into an episode of Seinfeld. There she was. 15 people backed up in line and that same dimly lit look in her eyes that conveyed a deep desire to understand, but no ability to actually connect lucid thoughts. At one moment, she announced to the gathered crowd that the delayed flight would take off at the scheduled delayed time of 2:21. The problem? It was 2:10 and there wasn’t even a plane at the gate let alone ready to be deplaned. We would ultimately take off at 3pm.
We had a flight to connect with in Dulles that would take us to Frankfurt where many things were already planned and ready to go. There were people that would be waiting and a schedule with the USO to be kept.
Upon arriving in Dulles we found ourselves in the middle of one of the nations larger airports with no idea which way to go, or if we were going to make our flight because our connection had since been delayed. Unfortunately it wasn’t delayed enough, the flight had left 30 minutes earlier.
We moved with purpose and urgency across the entirety of Dulles. I can’t possibly understand how so much square footage can exist and still be inside but it does. It was like running the half marathon in boots and with a back pack. This must be what it felt like in the Biodome.
You see, “Marge” had booked us on the next flight out as a back up plan. This was a rare moment of clarity in “Marge’s” life and inside I celebrated with her because I knew that these moments were far and few between. Unfortunately that internal celebration came to a screeching halt when I met the new rain on our parade at gate D15. I don’t even know what his name was but of all the ways I could describe this man, “helpful” would not be one of them. Nor would kind, gracious, or interested.
Along with the cadre of other people standing around wondering if they were going to Germany; I was not a part of his job, I was an interruption of it. In a very dismissive tone he informed me that “marge” had not actually booked us on the flight but rather put us on the stand by list. Suddenly I understood why she couldn’t print the boarding passes in Nashville. She said the printer was broken. I fell for the oldest trick in the ticket agent book. The ol’ “printer is broken” trick. I felt stupid, and aware that I was not going to Germany on this night.
It is at this moment that I would like to tell you that I stopped, thanked God for this trial and maybe hummed a few bars of that Amy Grant song about angels. Perhaps God kept me off that plane for a reason. Unfortunately that is not what happened.
After being treated with multiple levels of condescension and dismissive tones the flight was closed and we were instructed to go to “Customer Service”. The term customer service by it’s very nature denotes a place where the customer will be served. It would probably be a better and more accurate term if it were called Customer Time Waster.
Along with my friends I waited in line for about 45 minutes while the 2 agents wasted the time of the people in front of me. It would have probably taken longer except for attrition. (several people gave up in haste before ever reaching the counter of terror) For those that did manage to wait; One by one they would walk away from the desk with looks of disgust, disdain and rejection. It looked like the line of the guys in high school being rejected by the hot girl in school. (a line I was all too familiar with)
I was greeted by my biggest challenge of the day. This gauntlet would end with a 4’ 11” Asian lady who was not in the mood to be trifled with. I was basically informed that the next available flight was Monday night (24 hours later). When asked about help with hotels or food or for that matter underwear she called some number where some potentially pretend person on the other line said that the flight was delayed due to air traffic control (it was not) and thus it was not their fault and they wouldn’t help with hotels or even a tooth brush. Unless we were having a medical emergency we couldn't even get our luggage.
It was at this moment that I slid into the cranky old man mode and exclaimed very loudly “Well you guys are really a piece of work aren’t you!?!!?” Loudly so that those in line behind me could understand my outrage and perhaps feel some sort of solidarity with my plight. I was then informed that I could go down to the other customer service where they handle requests like mine.
I swear I’m not making that up. This was the “express” customer service even though no sign described it that way nor what that would mean if it was an express customer service. We walked by the other customer service counter on our way to the hotel and saw a line that was longer, more disgusted, and more rejected. I talked to a couple of people in the line who had moved 10 feet in the past hour. They still had 20 feet to go.
Now to be clear, my attitude at this point was at best disagreeable and at worst purely toxic. Somebody made the statement that we would laugh about this some day. I immediately dismissed that idea. I would never laugh about this. I was in a surly mood.
So surly that when we finally got to the hotel and I laid down I couldn’t sleep. I got up and actually spent 30 minutes filling out the www.ualsurvey.com I swear it took 30 minutes not because I had so much to write but because that is how the survey is designed. Even their customer service survey is a pain in the butt with this company. If you're unhappy you're going to have to work at it to tell someone.
Be that as it may, I was undeterred. I was sure I would hit send and it would go to the nowhere part of the world where spare socks from the dryer go, but it was cathartic and it felt like a perfect use of my indignation. I used large and scorching words like “antipathy”, “aversion” and “surfeit”. If they weren’t going to do anything about it then at least I could sting them with a good vocabulary. (for some reason that felt like the way that I could show them something. What I’m not sure, but something)
I finally laid down around 1am. Sleepy and convicted. A guilty conscience is not a good pillow nor a comfortable bed. I was reminded of Jacob laying his head down on a rock and going to sleep.
I was in Africa only two weeks ago. Almost every child I encountered would never see the inside of a jet plane let alone lay on a bed with pillows. I was incensed, but with a full stomach from the nice restaurant in the hotel. I was disgruntled, but very clean from the granite tile shower with multiple water jet locations. I was exasperated laying on a bed with a down comforter and feather pillows with the temperature set at a crisp 65 degrees. I repented immediately.
I woke up this morning with the idea that Gods mercies are new every morning. I wondered if United’s incompetence would be new as well. If it were then I planned to hit it with a whole new outlook and strategy. I planned to reconnect to the vine and let the fruit of the spirit flow through me. Love, joy, peace, longsuffering, patience, which is to say none of what I showed yesterday.
I’m sitting in the United Airlines airport lounge in Washington Dulles as I write this. I'm sitting in yesterdays clothes save for a brand new pair of .99 socks and $3 tighty whiteys from CVS pharmacy. Strangely everyone we’ve encountered today has been pleasant, helpful, and agreeable. I’m prepared for the worst, but God has brought me the best.
As I've said before "fruit" is a result of actions that took place long ago. A tree planted by the water, a branch connected to the vine will produce fruit all on it's own. No need for working at it. It just happens. It would seem as though my branch might not be as connected to the vine as I had hoped.
Perhaps that goes back to the pop quiz though about the tests. I failed it yesterday. I’m sure I’ll get to take it again. Maybe not today, but some day soon. Maybe this isn't so much a test of how I can respond when I'm planning on it, but rather what is my go to instincts
I’ll let you know how it goes.
Saturday, September 20, 2008
Darren in Germany- No Conduit Monday
The fact that you and I woke up this morning and didn’t get our morning news in German or that we’re NOT enjoying the many accoutrements of Stalinistic socialism such as bread lines and grey clothes is something we owe to the men and women in uniform. It is an exercise in cliché to say that we owe our freedom to these folks, but it is true nonetheless.
And so it is that I will be travelling with my friends in Everlife to Germany tomorrow to spend some time with the troops, the wounded veterans and the forgotten families that sacrifice so much while their fathers and / or mothers are away at war.
My mother knew this first hand. I never realized how much until we sat in a room with my Grandfather last month. The Pastor was trying to build some stories from her childhood and the parents are normally the first source for this. With my grandmother in advanced stages of Alzheimer’s it was up to my grandpa to carry the torch. He wept as he said; “I don’t have any. I was not there.” My moms childhood was locked inside of a grandmothers mind that has long since faded, and my grandfather knew good and well that he had missed out.
My Grandfather served in the army for the better part of 25 years, all of which encompassed my Mom’s childhood. He served as a medic in Vietnam, as well as a staff surgeon around the United States and the World. To put it simply he was gone.
Some of my Mom’s happier memories as a child were in Germany. It is by complete coincidence that I am going on my first USO tour to the very military base that my mom graduated from Junior High on. We talked about this while she was dying. It brought her joy to think back to those days. I’m excited to get to walk on the same grounds and in the same schools that she was a part of.
I’ve never heard him complain one ounce about it. I Never heard him even mention it as an inconvenience. It is after all, what you do. The world was upside down and someone had to right it. That’s what the military does. That’s not to say there isn’t a price for the family to pay, but that is just part of the expectation.
To get to witness first hand a drop in the bucket of a thank you from the Everlife girls is going to be great. I’m going as handler/ observer. To think of it in terms that these kids are going through what my mom went through so many years ago makes it all the more special.
Jeremy Hezlep will be with me serving in the position of VP of Handling and so we will not be having Conduit on Monday night. I do have some pretty cool news to share with you upon my return, but I’ll obey my instincts and wait until then to share it. (FYI- I’m not quitting. It’s something else. Even cooler than me quitting)
So spread the word, tell your friends, email the local papers, call the radio request lines and tell them that Conduit is not happening this Monday. It never fails that 1 -2 people won’t get the word and I’ll feel like a jerk for not letting them know.
Blessings to you,
Darren
And so it is that I will be travelling with my friends in Everlife to Germany tomorrow to spend some time with the troops, the wounded veterans and the forgotten families that sacrifice so much while their fathers and / or mothers are away at war.
My mother knew this first hand. I never realized how much until we sat in a room with my Grandfather last month. The Pastor was trying to build some stories from her childhood and the parents are normally the first source for this. With my grandmother in advanced stages of Alzheimer’s it was up to my grandpa to carry the torch. He wept as he said; “I don’t have any. I was not there.” My moms childhood was locked inside of a grandmothers mind that has long since faded, and my grandfather knew good and well that he had missed out.
My Grandfather served in the army for the better part of 25 years, all of which encompassed my Mom’s childhood. He served as a medic in Vietnam, as well as a staff surgeon around the United States and the World. To put it simply he was gone.
Some of my Mom’s happier memories as a child were in Germany. It is by complete coincidence that I am going on my first USO tour to the very military base that my mom graduated from Junior High on. We talked about this while she was dying. It brought her joy to think back to those days. I’m excited to get to walk on the same grounds and in the same schools that she was a part of.
I’ve never heard him complain one ounce about it. I Never heard him even mention it as an inconvenience. It is after all, what you do. The world was upside down and someone had to right it. That’s what the military does. That’s not to say there isn’t a price for the family to pay, but that is just part of the expectation.
To get to witness first hand a drop in the bucket of a thank you from the Everlife girls is going to be great. I’m going as handler/ observer. To think of it in terms that these kids are going through what my mom went through so many years ago makes it all the more special.
Jeremy Hezlep will be with me serving in the position of VP of Handling and so we will not be having Conduit on Monday night. I do have some pretty cool news to share with you upon my return, but I’ll obey my instincts and wait until then to share it. (FYI- I’m not quitting. It’s something else. Even cooler than me quitting)
So spread the word, tell your friends, email the local papers, call the radio request lines and tell them that Conduit is not happening this Monday. It never fails that 1 -2 people won’t get the word and I’ll feel like a jerk for not letting them know.
Blessings to you,
Darren
Tuesday, September 16, 2008
Darren and the gang serving lunch
This is some video footage of us serving lunch to the kids at the Compassion Project in Masaka Uganda. I am the rice master
Sunday, September 14, 2008
Conduit September 15- Darren Returns
One of the highlights of our journey to Africa was capping it off with a safari in Northern Uganda. From the moment I heard about it, and was told about the fact that we would be flying in on a small plane I had kept it somewhere in the middle of the back of my mind. Those who know me, know that I’m not particularly fond of flying. I am less fond of flying in small planes into the bush country of African nations.
When we saw the plane I had this sort of dread with a twist of nerves and a hint of thoughtful introspection. The kind that you get when you know that the odds of dying aren’t particularly high, but considerably higher than say, sitting at home watching TV. I logically understand the whole “you’ve got a better chance of getting struck by lightning” speech, but in this case, I think that those odds were even beaten.
The plane wasn’t so much rickety as it was loosely constructed. It seemed that it was durable when it was built, which seemed to me to be around 1938. Assuming that in this nation of abject poverty and lack of skilled workers that as long as someone had tightened the bolts and every once in a while had a look under the hood we should be fine. To say that my confidence was shaken would be an exercise in understatement.
The Pilot who was earnest and jovial introduced himself. He was very welcoming. Too welcoming to be honest. It was about 120 degrees inside the plane and spent some time making small talk and introducing himself. When asked in jest if there was beverage service, we were actually excited to learn there was. We were told it was located in a cooler by the back row.
The plane seated around 20 people total and roared into the air with ample power and gusto. Taking off is one of the most dangerous times of flying and as we leveled out at our cruising altitude of what appeared to be a couple thousand feet, I loosened my sweaty protracted grip on the arm rests; but not too much.
We were happy to learn that beverage serviced consisted of ample snacks that included an assortment of colas, cookies, chips, and to my pleasant surprise, Pringles. We all sort of ate ferociously dancing dangerously on the line of gluttony. It occurred to me that this could likely be my last meal. Coke and Pringles are one bucket of KFC short of being the perfect last meal.
I sat there looking at the African countryside below imagining the made for TV movie on Lifetime that they would make about the missionary plane that crashed on the border of The Congo. The few that survived were captured by the Lord’s Resistance Army and held hostage for years until they were summarily executed. I thought it would be nice to have Russell Crowe play me until realism set in that for purposes of budget and accuracy it would have to be one of the less famous, unreformed weightier Baldwin brothers.
Before I knew it we were making our descent into Pakuba Airport in Northern Uganda. I use the word airport loosely in that it was more like a little gas station with no gas and a dirt road in front of it. Air traffic control was a CB radio hooked up to a couple of car batteries. Arrivals and departure times were followed by the term “ish”. In Africa “ish” gives a window of a couple hours either side of the predicted time.
I’ll fill you in on more of the details of the Safari but more importantly the stuff the experiences and stories from our journey. I’ve asked a couple of folks from the trip who live here in the Nashville area to share their experiences as well.
I return to America with a resolution that Conduit is on the right path. I’m convinced that the Body of Christ isn’t just a nice term to display unity, but a description of what we are; which is to say the implementing arm of Gods will, provision, and ideas in the world.
I hope if you’re in town you can join us. We’re going to be meeting as usual at 7:30pm at Building 8 in The Factory home of Journey Ecclesia.
Blessings,
Darren
When we saw the plane I had this sort of dread with a twist of nerves and a hint of thoughtful introspection. The kind that you get when you know that the odds of dying aren’t particularly high, but considerably higher than say, sitting at home watching TV. I logically understand the whole “you’ve got a better chance of getting struck by lightning” speech, but in this case, I think that those odds were even beaten.
The plane wasn’t so much rickety as it was loosely constructed. It seemed that it was durable when it was built, which seemed to me to be around 1938. Assuming that in this nation of abject poverty and lack of skilled workers that as long as someone had tightened the bolts and every once in a while had a look under the hood we should be fine. To say that my confidence was shaken would be an exercise in understatement.
The Pilot who was earnest and jovial introduced himself. He was very welcoming. Too welcoming to be honest. It was about 120 degrees inside the plane and spent some time making small talk and introducing himself. When asked in jest if there was beverage service, we were actually excited to learn there was. We were told it was located in a cooler by the back row.
The plane seated around 20 people total and roared into the air with ample power and gusto. Taking off is one of the most dangerous times of flying and as we leveled out at our cruising altitude of what appeared to be a couple thousand feet, I loosened my sweaty protracted grip on the arm rests; but not too much.
We were happy to learn that beverage serviced consisted of ample snacks that included an assortment of colas, cookies, chips, and to my pleasant surprise, Pringles. We all sort of ate ferociously dancing dangerously on the line of gluttony. It occurred to me that this could likely be my last meal. Coke and Pringles are one bucket of KFC short of being the perfect last meal.
I sat there looking at the African countryside below imagining the made for TV movie on Lifetime that they would make about the missionary plane that crashed on the border of The Congo. The few that survived were captured by the Lord’s Resistance Army and held hostage for years until they were summarily executed. I thought it would be nice to have Russell Crowe play me until realism set in that for purposes of budget and accuracy it would have to be one of the less famous, unreformed weightier Baldwin brothers.
Before I knew it we were making our descent into Pakuba Airport in Northern Uganda. I use the word airport loosely in that it was more like a little gas station with no gas and a dirt road in front of it. Air traffic control was a CB radio hooked up to a couple of car batteries. Arrivals and departure times were followed by the term “ish”. In Africa “ish” gives a window of a couple hours either side of the predicted time.
I’ll fill you in on more of the details of the Safari but more importantly the stuff the experiences and stories from our journey. I’ve asked a couple of folks from the trip who live here in the Nashville area to share their experiences as well.
I return to America with a resolution that Conduit is on the right path. I’m convinced that the Body of Christ isn’t just a nice term to display unity, but a description of what we are; which is to say the implementing arm of Gods will, provision, and ideas in the world.
I hope if you’re in town you can join us. We’re going to be meeting as usual at 7:30pm at Building 8 in The Factory home of Journey Ecclesia.
Blessings,
Darren
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Tsunami of Need
There is almost no way to explain the needs that exist in Africa and around the world.
Monday, September 8, 2008
Africa Day 4
In an attempt to keep from getting sick, I decided to just have yogurt for breakfast and skip lunch. We have the blessing of going on a Safari tomorrow and the last thing I want to be doing is running for the bushes knowing that lions are wandering around. I hear they can sense weakness. I suspect a massive case of parasites would certainly give off the scent of weakness. Hanging over the side of a boat to hurl into a crocodile infested river just can't end well.
Today was the standard lunch of rices, potatatos, somes sort of banana nut mush, meat from a goat that was killed yesterday and today we took it up a notch. There were fish heads. It basically looked like the crime scene of a murdered fish. I so took a picture of it. I so did not take a bite of it. The lady across from me was eating it like crazy. She basically was treating it like a big cookie with lips.
We went to the HIV Aids project today in a suburb of Kampala. What a damnable disease. I can not wait until the moment when we see “death and hades” locked up and thrown into the lake of fire. Jesus himself will do this. Death in and of itself is an enemy. It is defeated. Not just yet, but with our resurrection, along with the resurrection of my brothers and sisters here in Uganda who have already succumbed.
This was by far the most intense day for me. I don’t say that lightly because every day has been intense in a sort of ascending order.
There is a semi cryptic passage in Luke where Jesus tells us that the pagans make friends with their money and that as believers we should be just as wise as they are, making friends for eternity. I got to see it first hand today. In the context Jesus was talking about using our money to give to the poor, and specifically that we will make friends for eternity.
Some of those are folks we will have the benefit of meeting this side of heaven. Many of them are folks we won’t be able to meet this side of eternity. Jesus said that they will be there to greet us when we get to heaven. What a picture. There will be a welcoming party of folks from Haiti, Africa, TN, etc all welcoming those of us who have heeded this promise of Jesus. I don’t know if they’ll have signs or blowing streamers or whatever, but they will know you and I. I've seen these folks here in Uganda when they're happy and let me tell you it’ll be a hoot.
Today I got to make two young friends named Blessed Hope and Rebecca. I met them and was able to introduce myself to them as their sponsor. Shannon and I and the girls will be sponsoring two young girls from the HIV Project here in Uganda.
Looking at pictures last night I really struggled since I was actually here in Africa. I was actually going to the facility where these 10-15 children represented in these pictures were going to be. I would see them face to face. It sort of had this heightened sense of urgency and at the same time a sense of agitation.
I was not born particularly lucky and so I know the feeling of being the last one picked in gym class or the one that never got picked at all. I know what it’s like to grow up poor (although not on this level) and to not get the things or to do the things that others got to do. I know what it felt like to get turned down for government programs that were the difference between us being able to buy groceries or not. I do not however know what it is like to be chosen to have my life transformed by a complete stranger.
I was remembering all of the kids that I met at the University and the one thing they said over and over again was that they were “so happy” when they were chosen. What of the ones that weren’t?
What possible criteria could I use to pick a child from a picture and a couple of paragraphs? Was it the smile? Was it the age? Was it the number of children in the family or the level of need? I didn’t sleep much because I was asking the question of how close does this come to playing God. I get to pick who will have the winning ticket today and who doesn’t.
As is usual in my over analytical mind, I found peace in the scriptures and in the Lord and not in me trying to “figure it out”.
It hit me that I’m not playing God. I’m “being” God to these children. Don’t freak out. (I swear I'm not one of those "little god" theology guys) Hang with me on this thought.
If I am in fact the hands and feet of Jesus, then I am being Gods presence, essence and provision to these children. In that situation it sort of makes sense that I ought to involve Him in the process. The promise of the New Covenant is that He would write His will on our minds and heart. (Jeremiah 31). So I prayed about it, and went with what is on my mind and heart.
It is above my pay grade to know why God led me to these two girls. My new friend James who was an LPD student said yesterday that he had felt often “who am I” that he would be chosen. But he found solace in the fact that God makes these decisions and he would rest in that.
I have often asked myself the question of where is God in these sucky situations. It hit me for the first time today that I’m asking the completely wrong question. The question is where is the church. We are the hands and feet of God in the earth. We are the body. We are the implementing arm of His will.
He can make it rain turtles. He made it rain bread and desert chickens for the Israelites. For some strange reason that is beyond me, He chooses to not make food fall out of the sky these days. He instead implements a system that relies completely on you and upon I.
I know most of the folks who read this blog are already on this same page and so I don’t mean this in any sort of a “preach to the choir” mentality. Mostly it’s just me trying to put words to my thoughts and trying to articulate what is going on inside of me. If nothing else it’s cathartic to me personally.
I saw the church this week first hand. Not an organization. Not a building with an excellent location and lots of programs to keep the members happy and going down the street to another church who suits their desires better.
What I saw this week was The Church as is it intended to be. Working in Uganda to transform the lives of tens of thousands of children here. (I think I heard the number 50,000). I saw the local church (which is what Compassion partners with) be what God ordained it to be. He ordained us to be His body not on a metaphorical or spiritual level only but on a quite literal, hands on, street level kind of way.
These projects were local churches reaching into their communities to make a difference to a people who had absolutely nothing to give them. When you make no dollars, 10% of zero is zero. It was not asked of these children if they were member or not. It was not required for them to have perfect attendance or to sign some moral code of conduct to get accepted into the process.
There is a need in front of them and they are doing everything they can to meet it. Sounds like something I want to be part of.
Sounds like God.
Today was the standard lunch of rices, potatatos, somes sort of banana nut mush, meat from a goat that was killed yesterday and today we took it up a notch. There were fish heads. It basically looked like the crime scene of a murdered fish. I so took a picture of it. I so did not take a bite of it. The lady across from me was eating it like crazy. She basically was treating it like a big cookie with lips.
We went to the HIV Aids project today in a suburb of Kampala. What a damnable disease. I can not wait until the moment when we see “death and hades” locked up and thrown into the lake of fire. Jesus himself will do this. Death in and of itself is an enemy. It is defeated. Not just yet, but with our resurrection, along with the resurrection of my brothers and sisters here in Uganda who have already succumbed.
This was by far the most intense day for me. I don’t say that lightly because every day has been intense in a sort of ascending order.
There is a semi cryptic passage in Luke where Jesus tells us that the pagans make friends with their money and that as believers we should be just as wise as they are, making friends for eternity. I got to see it first hand today. In the context Jesus was talking about using our money to give to the poor, and specifically that we will make friends for eternity.
Some of those are folks we will have the benefit of meeting this side of heaven. Many of them are folks we won’t be able to meet this side of eternity. Jesus said that they will be there to greet us when we get to heaven. What a picture. There will be a welcoming party of folks from Haiti, Africa, TN, etc all welcoming those of us who have heeded this promise of Jesus. I don’t know if they’ll have signs or blowing streamers or whatever, but they will know you and I. I've seen these folks here in Uganda when they're happy and let me tell you it’ll be a hoot.
Today I got to make two young friends named Blessed Hope and Rebecca. I met them and was able to introduce myself to them as their sponsor. Shannon and I and the girls will be sponsoring two young girls from the HIV Project here in Uganda.
Looking at pictures last night I really struggled since I was actually here in Africa. I was actually going to the facility where these 10-15 children represented in these pictures were going to be. I would see them face to face. It sort of had this heightened sense of urgency and at the same time a sense of agitation.
I was not born particularly lucky and so I know the feeling of being the last one picked in gym class or the one that never got picked at all. I know what it’s like to grow up poor (although not on this level) and to not get the things or to do the things that others got to do. I know what it felt like to get turned down for government programs that were the difference between us being able to buy groceries or not. I do not however know what it is like to be chosen to have my life transformed by a complete stranger.
I was remembering all of the kids that I met at the University and the one thing they said over and over again was that they were “so happy” when they were chosen. What of the ones that weren’t?
What possible criteria could I use to pick a child from a picture and a couple of paragraphs? Was it the smile? Was it the age? Was it the number of children in the family or the level of need? I didn’t sleep much because I was asking the question of how close does this come to playing God. I get to pick who will have the winning ticket today and who doesn’t.
As is usual in my over analytical mind, I found peace in the scriptures and in the Lord and not in me trying to “figure it out”.
It hit me that I’m not playing God. I’m “being” God to these children. Don’t freak out. (I swear I'm not one of those "little god" theology guys) Hang with me on this thought.
If I am in fact the hands and feet of Jesus, then I am being Gods presence, essence and provision to these children. In that situation it sort of makes sense that I ought to involve Him in the process. The promise of the New Covenant is that He would write His will on our minds and heart. (Jeremiah 31). So I prayed about it, and went with what is on my mind and heart.
It is above my pay grade to know why God led me to these two girls. My new friend James who was an LPD student said yesterday that he had felt often “who am I” that he would be chosen. But he found solace in the fact that God makes these decisions and he would rest in that.
I have often asked myself the question of where is God in these sucky situations. It hit me for the first time today that I’m asking the completely wrong question. The question is where is the church. We are the hands and feet of God in the earth. We are the body. We are the implementing arm of His will.
He can make it rain turtles. He made it rain bread and desert chickens for the Israelites. For some strange reason that is beyond me, He chooses to not make food fall out of the sky these days. He instead implements a system that relies completely on you and upon I.
I know most of the folks who read this blog are already on this same page and so I don’t mean this in any sort of a “preach to the choir” mentality. Mostly it’s just me trying to put words to my thoughts and trying to articulate what is going on inside of me. If nothing else it’s cathartic to me personally.
I saw the church this week first hand. Not an organization. Not a building with an excellent location and lots of programs to keep the members happy and going down the street to another church who suits their desires better.
What I saw this week was The Church as is it intended to be. Working in Uganda to transform the lives of tens of thousands of children here. (I think I heard the number 50,000). I saw the local church (which is what Compassion partners with) be what God ordained it to be. He ordained us to be His body not on a metaphorical or spiritual level only but on a quite literal, hands on, street level kind of way.
These projects were local churches reaching into their communities to make a difference to a people who had absolutely nothing to give them. When you make no dollars, 10% of zero is zero. It was not asked of these children if they were member or not. It was not required for them to have perfect attendance or to sign some moral code of conduct to get accepted into the process.
There is a need in front of them and they are doing everything they can to meet it. Sounds like something I want to be part of.
Sounds like God.
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Africa Day 3
So it’s day 3 on the ground in Uganda, day 5 since I’ve left Nashville. My body is still considerably confused about how it’s possible to be 8 am here and midnight back home. Seems like I’ll get the hang of it just in time to fly back and start all over again.
I have not yet succumbed to any sort of colonic disorders that seem to be striking down my friends. This is a sneaky thing that seems to be systematically taking us down one by one. It’s kind of like the intestinal version of a Friday the 13th movie where all of a sudden you realize someone is missing from the dinner table only to find out that they were now claimed as a victim.
To be fair, I of subscribed to the Bush doctrine of preemptive strike when there is an imminent threat and started taking Immodium the minute I arrived. I’m not entirely sure if this is healthy, but it seems to be holding back the enemy that is amassing weapons of mass destruction in my stomach.
The rooms on either side of me are experiencing the bathroom version of shock and awe. So far I am just feeling this sort of feeling of something unnatural but not sick. It feels like at any minute Freddy could strike. The suspense is killing me.
Meanwhile, back in Uganda…
I wrote yesterday about us being the Body of Christ. It occurred to me today that in America we are the internal organs fueling the body. Today I met the muscles. These young men and women stand ready to do the heavy lifting.
I met what Compassion refers to as LDP Students. They are kids who were sponsored as children but have aged out of that system. Compassion has devised a system by which they are selecting the brightest students who are leaders and developing them through the Student Leadership Project. It’s an intense program where they pay for their university training as well as a supplemental course in servant leadership.
In American you get out of high school and if you don't go to college you can at least pick up a job as a manager at the Gap or flipping burgers. Here you can hang out with your friends on the streets and live in a shack. My ugandan friend Dennis who works for Compassion here told me that for every job there are usually 500 applicants. Getting a job without a college degree is pretty much like winning a lottery.
So Compassion has devised this system by which these students can not only get a degree and a job, but they can be part of changing Uganda’s future from the inside out. At Uganda Christian University there are 164 of these hand picked students. They are chosen through a process that recognizes if they are proactive, leaders, hard workers, and stand out. Only a few of them can be chosen because of the resources, but those that are chosen are some of the brightest most inspiring people I have ever met.
All of their stories were the same. Parents died, usually the father when they were young and the mother when they were older. (older meaning 10-12). They come from remote villages and were sponsored by Compassion when they were young.
They had something else in common. All of them shared a desire to finish the courses at University and go back to their villages and affect change. They are already spending their Christmas and Summer breaks doing that. When I graduated I couldn’t get out of town fast enough, these young people can’t get back fast enough. These students who for all intents and purposes are themselves still poor, want to help the poor. Let that sit in for a minute.
They are living out 1 Cor 1 where Paul talks about being able to take the way that you were ministered to and to minister to others with that same issue. They are the future of Uganda. They are the Body of Christ here. The only thing preventing them from accomplishing this is ridiculous when you think about it. Money. And not much money. $300 a month. $300 a month feeds, houses, and educates these kids at the University.
What struck me most was that I think I actually saw Gods love, the actual Agape love first hand today. One of the students, James, lost his mother and father when he was a child. His 13 year old sister became the head of house. And then in a twist that is just unimaginable, his sister also died. One of our group asked him if he had ever been angry at God about his life. He was absolutely genuinely confused by the question. He paused, and said I don’t understand. It wasn’t a language barrier, it was a spiritual barrier. It was a foreign concept to him. He said “how can I be angry with God after all He has done for me.”
They kept thanking us for our love. It hit me that this is love. In the words of the great poet Tobymac “Love is a verb”. Indeed. Through Compassion and many other organizations like it we are being a conduit of Gods love to these folks. I always thought about it as giving money. But we're loving them and as a result one of the things Love would do is provide. It’s one thing to say we Love, it’s another to do it.
Melissa Brock said today that she thought of her sponsoring a child as just giving money, as giving the child a chance. When she met her sponsored child and the mother for the first time the child's mother said that her hope for her child is to be the future of Uganda to change the country. Melissa said something that stuck with me. She said that this mom was hoping for so much more than I was. And then today we saw that this hope can actually be a reality. We saw the possibility of that hope alive and in person today.
This is a project that takes time. It takes time for these young men and women to grow through this process. It takes time for them to go back home and affect a culture and a people. It could take a long time.
I wish it could move faster. There's so much need here. But I’m reminded of something that Paul wrote so many years ago.
Love is not only kind; it is patient.
I have not yet succumbed to any sort of colonic disorders that seem to be striking down my friends. This is a sneaky thing that seems to be systematically taking us down one by one. It’s kind of like the intestinal version of a Friday the 13th movie where all of a sudden you realize someone is missing from the dinner table only to find out that they were now claimed as a victim.
To be fair, I of subscribed to the Bush doctrine of preemptive strike when there is an imminent threat and started taking Immodium the minute I arrived. I’m not entirely sure if this is healthy, but it seems to be holding back the enemy that is amassing weapons of mass destruction in my stomach.
The rooms on either side of me are experiencing the bathroom version of shock and awe. So far I am just feeling this sort of feeling of something unnatural but not sick. It feels like at any minute Freddy could strike. The suspense is killing me.
Meanwhile, back in Uganda…
I wrote yesterday about us being the Body of Christ. It occurred to me today that in America we are the internal organs fueling the body. Today I met the muscles. These young men and women stand ready to do the heavy lifting.
I met what Compassion refers to as LDP Students. They are kids who were sponsored as children but have aged out of that system. Compassion has devised a system by which they are selecting the brightest students who are leaders and developing them through the Student Leadership Project. It’s an intense program where they pay for their university training as well as a supplemental course in servant leadership.
In American you get out of high school and if you don't go to college you can at least pick up a job as a manager at the Gap or flipping burgers. Here you can hang out with your friends on the streets and live in a shack. My ugandan friend Dennis who works for Compassion here told me that for every job there are usually 500 applicants. Getting a job without a college degree is pretty much like winning a lottery.
So Compassion has devised this system by which these students can not only get a degree and a job, but they can be part of changing Uganda’s future from the inside out. At Uganda Christian University there are 164 of these hand picked students. They are chosen through a process that recognizes if they are proactive, leaders, hard workers, and stand out. Only a few of them can be chosen because of the resources, but those that are chosen are some of the brightest most inspiring people I have ever met.
All of their stories were the same. Parents died, usually the father when they were young and the mother when they were older. (older meaning 10-12). They come from remote villages and were sponsored by Compassion when they were young.
They had something else in common. All of them shared a desire to finish the courses at University and go back to their villages and affect change. They are already spending their Christmas and Summer breaks doing that. When I graduated I couldn’t get out of town fast enough, these young people can’t get back fast enough. These students who for all intents and purposes are themselves still poor, want to help the poor. Let that sit in for a minute.
They are living out 1 Cor 1 where Paul talks about being able to take the way that you were ministered to and to minister to others with that same issue. They are the future of Uganda. They are the Body of Christ here. The only thing preventing them from accomplishing this is ridiculous when you think about it. Money. And not much money. $300 a month. $300 a month feeds, houses, and educates these kids at the University.
What struck me most was that I think I actually saw Gods love, the actual Agape love first hand today. One of the students, James, lost his mother and father when he was a child. His 13 year old sister became the head of house. And then in a twist that is just unimaginable, his sister also died. One of our group asked him if he had ever been angry at God about his life. He was absolutely genuinely confused by the question. He paused, and said I don’t understand. It wasn’t a language barrier, it was a spiritual barrier. It was a foreign concept to him. He said “how can I be angry with God after all He has done for me.”
They kept thanking us for our love. It hit me that this is love. In the words of the great poet Tobymac “Love is a verb”. Indeed. Through Compassion and many other organizations like it we are being a conduit of Gods love to these folks. I always thought about it as giving money. But we're loving them and as a result one of the things Love would do is provide. It’s one thing to say we Love, it’s another to do it.
Melissa Brock said today that she thought of her sponsoring a child as just giving money, as giving the child a chance. When she met her sponsored child and the mother for the first time the child's mother said that her hope for her child is to be the future of Uganda to change the country. Melissa said something that stuck with me. She said that this mom was hoping for so much more than I was. And then today we saw that this hope can actually be a reality. We saw the possibility of that hope alive and in person today.
This is a project that takes time. It takes time for these young men and women to grow through this process. It takes time for them to go back home and affect a culture and a people. It could take a long time.
I wish it could move faster. There's so much need here. But I’m reminded of something that Paul wrote so many years ago.
Love is not only kind; it is patient.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Africa Day 2
On day two we hopped on the very appropriately looking foreign busmobile that we’ve been riding on. Our driver is named Moses. I’m not entirely sure if it’s because it’s a given name or rather because of his seeming ability to part the traffic with his driving. To be truthful, driving doesn’t quite describe what is going on. I believe the only phrase I could come up with is choreographed careening.
My friend Harry Thomas says that there is a rhythm to every country, to every culture he has visited. I believe the rhythm for this traffic could best be described as double time. I have just taken to not looking out the front window of the bus as it’ best that I don’t know what is going on.
So we made it to Masaka Town Uganda. It was just over 100 kilometers which as best I can tell from my Canadian Kilometer expert Cliff Skinner is somewhere around 70-80 miles. This took us well over 3 hours because of the stopping, starting, swerving to avoid chickens, goats, cows, petrol trucks and pedestrians as well as to miss the potholes that look rather like they were caused from earthquake damage.
We arrived at a facility that is home to 264 children sponsored by Compassion international. Melissa from Superchick who is on this trip met her sponsored child there for the first time. I got to see first hand a personal interaction that God ordained. This little child didn’t know her as a rock star in a Christian rock band. He knew her as his “sponsor”. More importantly he knew her as one that God supplied to save his life both physically and spiritually. It was very moving to see this happen.
I met another new friend today. His name is Joseph. Josephs is part of the Compassion Program here in Uganda. He is 9 years old and quite a handsome young man. He speaks little English with his mouth, but he says plenty with his eyes. Joseph lost his father when he was very young. He lives with his teen sister and his mother in a 2 room house that can best be described as a tool shed with windows and no tools. His mother is HIV positive and lives on borrowed time.
Through Compassion she made a commitment to faith in Christ. Joseph is fed and schooled in a facility that is 1 mile from his home and that he walks to every day all by himself. He’s a very mature boy. He would have to be. He has seen a lot of life in his 9 years.
Because His mother has HIV she was fired from her job and can not get another one. So Compassion has this cool program where they give her money to invest in a business for her family. She has chosen goats and seamstress. She makes about $200 a year. It’s not much but she is very industrious with every thing she has.
She showed us this cool little mound thing with a hole about the size of a dinner plate in the middle. Basically she has a method of putting manure, spoiled stuff, etc in that hole and it filters to the mound to create fertilizer for her garden. She also has a very genius method for catching run off water from the rain to help water.
(I personally thought this was a huge QVC product that could make her rich. It would be called "Manure in the Middle". The host would fill it with poo and would say and now you set it, and... the audience would chant back "forget it")
She smiled the entire time we were there. She was so grateful to the Lord. She had named her goats names like Hope, Peace and Grace. I can’t remember her pigs name but it was similar.
Her prayers were very simple. Too live long enough to see Joseph grow up. I would pray that too. But I would also be busy praying for more money, a bigger shack and more goats that I would give more biblical names. I think we prayed that for her anyway, maybe God will do that.
In the meantime she smiles. She is full of hope. She is full of Jesus. I took a picture of a scribbling that she wrote on her wall with chalk. It reads : “The Lord reigns, Let the earth rejoice” . Rejoice? Wow. I don’t remember her name, mostly because she said it 3-4 times and I couldn’t understand and I finally nodded, “oh yes, what a beautiful name” but I still didn’t understand. (for the record it was beautiful, I just couldn’t say it)
And so it is that the Joy of the Lord is her strength. What an amazing way to see it real live and in person. She didn’t have the American dream, and maybe God will have mercy on her and not ever allow her to. (especially the QVC part that I cooked up) Right there in the middle of abject poverty she had the one thing that alludes so many millions of Americans, the richest nation on the planet: Joy.
Jesus said blessed are the poor. I saw that today first hand. Academically I can’t get my mind wrapped around something that spiritually makes so much sense.
I’m thinking about words like “social justice” and what that actually means. What I’m really asking is whether or not that is something that God ever promised us to begin with. If He did, he sure had a funny way of showing it to guys like Joseph and Paul. He did promise us justice ultimately and perfectly. But that day hasn’t arrived yet.
It would seem that rather what He was crystal clear about was us being his hands and his feet. We are his tools of being “just” in this world.
Without that, he is after all just a Head of a Body with a lot of really great ideas and no implementation. It struck me today that if the entire Body of Christ got this and acted at once, we could make such a giant differece.
Forget all the Republican vs Democrat ideologies and them saving us. If ever there were a time for a third party it's right now. It already exists. It's called the church. It's you and me.
The next time we sign the words to the song “let justice and praise, become my embrace” it will take on a whole new meaning for me. I pray it will for you too.
My friend Harry Thomas says that there is a rhythm to every country, to every culture he has visited. I believe the rhythm for this traffic could best be described as double time. I have just taken to not looking out the front window of the bus as it’ best that I don’t know what is going on.
So we made it to Masaka Town Uganda. It was just over 100 kilometers which as best I can tell from my Canadian Kilometer expert Cliff Skinner is somewhere around 70-80 miles. This took us well over 3 hours because of the stopping, starting, swerving to avoid chickens, goats, cows, petrol trucks and pedestrians as well as to miss the potholes that look rather like they were caused from earthquake damage.
We arrived at a facility that is home to 264 children sponsored by Compassion international. Melissa from Superchick who is on this trip met her sponsored child there for the first time. I got to see first hand a personal interaction that God ordained. This little child didn’t know her as a rock star in a Christian rock band. He knew her as his “sponsor”. More importantly he knew her as one that God supplied to save his life both physically and spiritually. It was very moving to see this happen.
I met another new friend today. His name is Joseph. Josephs is part of the Compassion Program here in Uganda. He is 9 years old and quite a handsome young man. He speaks little English with his mouth, but he says plenty with his eyes. Joseph lost his father when he was very young. He lives with his teen sister and his mother in a 2 room house that can best be described as a tool shed with windows and no tools. His mother is HIV positive and lives on borrowed time.
Through Compassion she made a commitment to faith in Christ. Joseph is fed and schooled in a facility that is 1 mile from his home and that he walks to every day all by himself. He’s a very mature boy. He would have to be. He has seen a lot of life in his 9 years.
Because His mother has HIV she was fired from her job and can not get another one. So Compassion has this cool program where they give her money to invest in a business for her family. She has chosen goats and seamstress. She makes about $200 a year. It’s not much but she is very industrious with every thing she has.
She showed us this cool little mound thing with a hole about the size of a dinner plate in the middle. Basically she has a method of putting manure, spoiled stuff, etc in that hole and it filters to the mound to create fertilizer for her garden. She also has a very genius method for catching run off water from the rain to help water.
(I personally thought this was a huge QVC product that could make her rich. It would be called "Manure in the Middle". The host would fill it with poo and would say and now you set it, and... the audience would chant back "forget it")
She smiled the entire time we were there. She was so grateful to the Lord. She had named her goats names like Hope, Peace and Grace. I can’t remember her pigs name but it was similar.
Her prayers were very simple. Too live long enough to see Joseph grow up. I would pray that too. But I would also be busy praying for more money, a bigger shack and more goats that I would give more biblical names. I think we prayed that for her anyway, maybe God will do that.
In the meantime she smiles. She is full of hope. She is full of Jesus. I took a picture of a scribbling that she wrote on her wall with chalk. It reads : “The Lord reigns, Let the earth rejoice” . Rejoice? Wow. I don’t remember her name, mostly because she said it 3-4 times and I couldn’t understand and I finally nodded, “oh yes, what a beautiful name” but I still didn’t understand. (for the record it was beautiful, I just couldn’t say it)
And so it is that the Joy of the Lord is her strength. What an amazing way to see it real live and in person. She didn’t have the American dream, and maybe God will have mercy on her and not ever allow her to. (especially the QVC part that I cooked up) Right there in the middle of abject poverty she had the one thing that alludes so many millions of Americans, the richest nation on the planet: Joy.
Jesus said blessed are the poor. I saw that today first hand. Academically I can’t get my mind wrapped around something that spiritually makes so much sense.
I’m thinking about words like “social justice” and what that actually means. What I’m really asking is whether or not that is something that God ever promised us to begin with. If He did, he sure had a funny way of showing it to guys like Joseph and Paul. He did promise us justice ultimately and perfectly. But that day hasn’t arrived yet.
It would seem that rather what He was crystal clear about was us being his hands and his feet. We are his tools of being “just” in this world.
Without that, he is after all just a Head of a Body with a lot of really great ideas and no implementation. It struck me today that if the entire Body of Christ got this and acted at once, we could make such a giant differece.
Forget all the Republican vs Democrat ideologies and them saving us. If ever there were a time for a third party it's right now. It already exists. It's called the church. It's you and me.
The next time we sign the words to the song “let justice and praise, become my embrace” it will take on a whole new meaning for me. I pray it will for you too.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Africa First Full Day
Jesus, the only person in history who could actually chose the time and place of His birth chose a birth to a teen mother in an open air barn in a society that was anything but stable. It was a society whose women had to retrieve water because they didn’t have running water. It was a society plagued by violence and uprising and an oppressive government. In short, it was a society not unlike Africa in many ways.
Interesting that He didn’t chose America in 2008. We at least have air conditioning; and the internet would have been helpful in getting his message out. Perhaps He didn’t know about the power of viral videos? Perhaps He knew all about those things and just like the Word says; His ways are above mine. Maybe He understood some things about poverty that I just can’t get my mind wrapped around, or for that matter don’t want to.
When we pulled up to the facility my initial thoughts were this place is so remote, so downtrodden. There were half finished buildings. There was no running water that I could see. There were lots of open air facilities, cows tied to trees, chickens running free, and children everywhere. And I mean everywhere.
It seemed like the kind of place that I would pray that God never sends me to. Surely you have prayed that too. “God please don’t send me to Africa”. In fact, I vividly remember when I was 17 years old in Guatemala having moments that I didn’t want to enjoy it too much because I was afraid God would call me there full time. Maybe you haven’t prayed prayers like that. Welcome to my shallow heart.
And yet this facility was the answer to prayer for hundreds of mothers and babies whose very lives were in grave danger before finding this place.
It suddenly looked beautiful to me. It looked amazing. Those chickens and cows were their grocery stores; they were their survival. Those buildings housed classes to teach these young mothers how to take care of their babies so they wouldn’t die of simple diseases you and I take for granted. This places was full of the Lord. It was stunning.
This place is known as a CPS, short for Child Survival Program. The title is very simple, utilitarian and does not even remotely capture the beauty of what is going on. Compassion International figured out that the infant mortality rate was so poor that babies were dying at an alarming rate before they ever had a chance to be taken care of by the sponsorship programs. CPS was created to save babies lives.
In the middle of perfect poverty I met some of the happiest children today. They were singing songs for us, one of which had the words “Thank you Jesus for all you’ve done for me”. It occurred to me that when I hear those words, they are mostly metaphorical and spiritual in nature. When I hear the words that Jesus came to “give me life” it is in much the same way. For these children, these words are really quite literal. They take on a whole different meaning.
I guess in many ways it redefines rescue for me. It’s not so much a lowering of expectations as it is of broadening them. God is here in Africa. I saw Him today.
I understood today why it is so hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. These children who have nothing to begin with have no problem with the idea that they must lose their life to find it. The call for sacrificial living is a no brainer when you have nothing to sacrifice. In essence, the gospel is indeed good news to them. If you’re in America the call to sacrifice, to give your life to the Lord, to follow Him is not especially an easy one and it requires a certain; well Jesus said it best: “counting the cost”.
I spoke with a boy named Fred whose father died of AIDS when he was very little. Compassion, partnered with a local church program quite literally saved his life. He is still poor, his father is still dead and he goes to school only because of the child sponsorship program. Fred is 18 and I asked him what he wants to do when he gets out of school.
Without hesitation Fred told me he wanted to help other people like he was helped.
He said it was his dream.
Of course programs like this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for the prosperity that exists in the United States. It was not lost on me that almost 70% of the sponsorships for this particular program originated from the US. (followed by United Kingdom and Australia). I’m not suggesting that everyone is called to be here.
I guess what I’m suggesting is that we all have a part to play in this. Maybe Freds dream can become all of ours. Maybe we’re not all called to be right on the front lines, but someone has to be filling the supply lines. That’s definitely the calling of Conduit. We’re funneling resources to the front lines. And the beauty of the simple expectations that exist in places like Africa and Haiti is that our supplies go a lot further. We can help so many more.
I posted some pics on the facebook of my first day. I put up some pics of my little buddy Waswah. He is 18 months old has a twin sister and his father died from Aids. His mother is taking care of him and his sister through Compassion International. He cried every time I put him down so I just decided to carry him around off and on all day. Eventually he fell asleep in my arms for about an hour. When I left I told him I know he won’t remember me, but I will never forget him. I meant it.
Interesting that He didn’t chose America in 2008. We at least have air conditioning; and the internet would have been helpful in getting his message out. Perhaps He didn’t know about the power of viral videos? Perhaps He knew all about those things and just like the Word says; His ways are above mine. Maybe He understood some things about poverty that I just can’t get my mind wrapped around, or for that matter don’t want to.
When we pulled up to the facility my initial thoughts were this place is so remote, so downtrodden. There were half finished buildings. There was no running water that I could see. There were lots of open air facilities, cows tied to trees, chickens running free, and children everywhere. And I mean everywhere.
It seemed like the kind of place that I would pray that God never sends me to. Surely you have prayed that too. “God please don’t send me to Africa”. In fact, I vividly remember when I was 17 years old in Guatemala having moments that I didn’t want to enjoy it too much because I was afraid God would call me there full time. Maybe you haven’t prayed prayers like that. Welcome to my shallow heart.
And yet this facility was the answer to prayer for hundreds of mothers and babies whose very lives were in grave danger before finding this place.
It suddenly looked beautiful to me. It looked amazing. Those chickens and cows were their grocery stores; they were their survival. Those buildings housed classes to teach these young mothers how to take care of their babies so they wouldn’t die of simple diseases you and I take for granted. This places was full of the Lord. It was stunning.
This place is known as a CPS, short for Child Survival Program. The title is very simple, utilitarian and does not even remotely capture the beauty of what is going on. Compassion International figured out that the infant mortality rate was so poor that babies were dying at an alarming rate before they ever had a chance to be taken care of by the sponsorship programs. CPS was created to save babies lives.
In the middle of perfect poverty I met some of the happiest children today. They were singing songs for us, one of which had the words “Thank you Jesus for all you’ve done for me”. It occurred to me that when I hear those words, they are mostly metaphorical and spiritual in nature. When I hear the words that Jesus came to “give me life” it is in much the same way. For these children, these words are really quite literal. They take on a whole different meaning.
I guess in many ways it redefines rescue for me. It’s not so much a lowering of expectations as it is of broadening them. God is here in Africa. I saw Him today.
I understood today why it is so hard for a rich man to enter the kingdom of heaven. These children who have nothing to begin with have no problem with the idea that they must lose their life to find it. The call for sacrificial living is a no brainer when you have nothing to sacrifice. In essence, the gospel is indeed good news to them. If you’re in America the call to sacrifice, to give your life to the Lord, to follow Him is not especially an easy one and it requires a certain; well Jesus said it best: “counting the cost”.
I spoke with a boy named Fred whose father died of AIDS when he was very little. Compassion, partnered with a local church program quite literally saved his life. He is still poor, his father is still dead and he goes to school only because of the child sponsorship program. Fred is 18 and I asked him what he wants to do when he gets out of school.
Without hesitation Fred told me he wanted to help other people like he was helped.
He said it was his dream.
Of course programs like this wouldn’t be possible if it weren’t for the prosperity that exists in the United States. It was not lost on me that almost 70% of the sponsorships for this particular program originated from the US. (followed by United Kingdom and Australia). I’m not suggesting that everyone is called to be here.
I guess what I’m suggesting is that we all have a part to play in this. Maybe Freds dream can become all of ours. Maybe we’re not all called to be right on the front lines, but someone has to be filling the supply lines. That’s definitely the calling of Conduit. We’re funneling resources to the front lines. And the beauty of the simple expectations that exist in places like Africa and Haiti is that our supplies go a lot further. We can help so many more.
I posted some pics on the facebook of my first day. I put up some pics of my little buddy Waswah. He is 18 months old has a twin sister and his father died from Aids. His mother is taking care of him and his sister through Compassion International. He cried every time I put him down so I just decided to carry him around off and on all day. Eventually he fell asleep in my arms for about an hour. When I left I told him I know he won’t remember me, but I will never forget him. I meant it.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
From Africa
Forgive me for stating the obvious but Africa is very far away from TN. If the little LCD TV maps on the Brussels Airlines 767 are to be believed then I began writing this somewhere over Sudan. It’s so amazingly beautiful down there. It’s fascinating for me to think that someplace so perfectly crafted can harbor some of the worst atrocities in recent memory.
Somewhere down there, in the beauty of the land, are people whose lives are affected deeply by genocide, poverty, blood diamonds, civil war, dictators, rebel armies, and starvation. From up here it looks beautiful. I wonder if God takes in this view very often. I would love to. It’s a glimpse of the way things were, and hint of what they will one day be.
The great news is that the folks we’re traveling with at Compassion International are on the scene. In reading some of the information they’ve provided me I can say with confidence that they might not be able to solve these global problems, but they are sure putting a flag in the ground for the Lord. Ultimately He will return, and when He does justice is high on the priority list. This will all be made perfect again. In the meantime, it’s you and I and an organization like Compassion gives us a rallying point.
The further you get from the US, the more remote and foreign it feels. Every thing is different. The food, the signs, the sounds, even the bathrooms are different. I wonder if this is how Jesus must have felt visiting our planet. That thought was not lost on me as we flew near the spots where he made His earthly home. My journey is a 26 hour trip via plane, his was a 9 month journey through the body of an unwed teen.
26 hours of traveling definitely takes it’s toll on you physically but also mentally. I wrote on my laptop till the battery died, I read until my mind was fried, and then found myself so impossibly bored that I actually watched a Jackie Chan movie that was playing on the plane.
I’ve never watched a Jackie Chan movie before, and don’t plan on doing it again anytime soon but it served the purpose that it was designed for which was to take time. (It’s important to note that I didn’t enjoy the movie, I just observed in much the same way that you observe clouds out the window. )
On the way to the landing strip I was taken with how dark it was on the ground. The sun had gone down and so we were landing at night. I’m not sure where the nickname the “dark continent” came from, but landing in Rwanda and again in Uganda it was just dark. Even in the most remote parts of the US there are lights scattering the horizon. Not here. Just darkness.
And now as I sit here in my hotel in Kampala with the window open I’m now taken with the silence outside. On the drive from the airport the city was positively alive with people everywhere. This is a city of a million people and it seemed like most of them were hanging out on the road from the airport. Admittedly it’s 2 in the morning here, but there is no one on the streets below. Zero. Nobody. Silent.
Tomorrow I’ll get to meet some new folks and make some new friends. We’re going to visit some of the sites that Compassion is working with. I’m stocked with bubbles, toys, the Holy Spirit and an open heart.
In a place this quiet, this dark, surely Gods voice is clear. I can’t wait to hear what He has to say.
Somewhere down there, in the beauty of the land, are people whose lives are affected deeply by genocide, poverty, blood diamonds, civil war, dictators, rebel armies, and starvation. From up here it looks beautiful. I wonder if God takes in this view very often. I would love to. It’s a glimpse of the way things were, and hint of what they will one day be.
The great news is that the folks we’re traveling with at Compassion International are on the scene. In reading some of the information they’ve provided me I can say with confidence that they might not be able to solve these global problems, but they are sure putting a flag in the ground for the Lord. Ultimately He will return, and when He does justice is high on the priority list. This will all be made perfect again. In the meantime, it’s you and I and an organization like Compassion gives us a rallying point.
The further you get from the US, the more remote and foreign it feels. Every thing is different. The food, the signs, the sounds, even the bathrooms are different. I wonder if this is how Jesus must have felt visiting our planet. That thought was not lost on me as we flew near the spots where he made His earthly home. My journey is a 26 hour trip via plane, his was a 9 month journey through the body of an unwed teen.
26 hours of traveling definitely takes it’s toll on you physically but also mentally. I wrote on my laptop till the battery died, I read until my mind was fried, and then found myself so impossibly bored that I actually watched a Jackie Chan movie that was playing on the plane.
I’ve never watched a Jackie Chan movie before, and don’t plan on doing it again anytime soon but it served the purpose that it was designed for which was to take time. (It’s important to note that I didn’t enjoy the movie, I just observed in much the same way that you observe clouds out the window. )
On the way to the landing strip I was taken with how dark it was on the ground. The sun had gone down and so we were landing at night. I’m not sure where the nickname the “dark continent” came from, but landing in Rwanda and again in Uganda it was just dark. Even in the most remote parts of the US there are lights scattering the horizon. Not here. Just darkness.
And now as I sit here in my hotel in Kampala with the window open I’m now taken with the silence outside. On the drive from the airport the city was positively alive with people everywhere. This is a city of a million people and it seemed like most of them were hanging out on the road from the airport. Admittedly it’s 2 in the morning here, but there is no one on the streets below. Zero. Nobody. Silent.
Tomorrow I’ll get to meet some new folks and make some new friends. We’re going to visit some of the sites that Compassion is working with. I’m stocked with bubbles, toys, the Holy Spirit and an open heart.
In a place this quiet, this dark, surely Gods voice is clear. I can’t wait to hear what He has to say.
Tuesday, September 2, 2008
Africa Eve
When we were told my mother was dying on Aug 1 I had many things that were running through my mind. One of which was regarding a trip to Africa that was scheduled to depart on Sep 3.
In the world of over promise under deliver that is death timeline guessing I kept getting estimates of 6-12 months. This was always given with a caveat of “optimistically”. I finally cornered Doc Wagner who was probably one of the smartest guys I’d ever met while simultaneously being the most socially inept. While all of his classmates in college were carrying on with beer bongs he was probably enjoying an exciting game of star trek trivia.
It was Doc Wagner that said one phrase that I remember all too well. “Weeks not months”. It was sometime early in the first week of August. I had to make a decision of whether or not to go to Africa. At the time I dropped an email to my friend Nick who is with Creation Festival and told him I couldn’t go. It’s not like you can catch a flight out of Uganda on the cheap if your mom dies.
But I had this feeling. Those who know me know I’m not a guy that says God speaks to me. In fact I’ve never heard the voice of God audibly before and I’m always intrigued when someone says they have. Not so much because I don’t believe them but more in a wondering what it actually sounds like. I personally hold to the hope that He sounds like James Earl Jones but after that Jim Carrey movie I’d be OK if He sounded like Morgan Freeman too.
I also wonder if when God speaks to someone does it count as infallible and become on the same level as scripture? That feels very Mormon to me. I digress.
The promise of the new covenant in Jeremiah 31 was that God would write His will on our hearts and our minds. I had this sort of “knowing” in my heart and mind that it was OK to go. I told my mom. I’m not entirely sure she understood the implications because she was jacked on morphine, but she seemed supportive. I emailed Nick back and said never mind. I’m going.
At the time I wasn't sure what "ok to go" really meant. I think I thought she would live longer. I honestly didn't have clarity one way or the other. Now I know. It really is OK. Mom will just have a different vantage point of the trip. Before it was just pictures. Now it's a ringside seat.
Less than a month later I’m on the eve of leaving for that trip to Africa; Uganda to be specific. I’ve packed two suitcases full of stuff. One for me personally and the other full of a dollar store buying binge; bubbles, balls, colors, books, construction paper, more bubbles and candy.
I’m all stocked up on the meds, the shots and the snacks. I’m thinking I could possibly lose some weight with natures own diet plan. For that I have purchased Imodium. I plan on taking it by the fistful. I know it could have the opposite affect but considering the toilet options that I’m sure to be facing I’m uniquely ok with that. The lat time I was on foreign soil I ingested some sort of parasite that literally wrestled my colon to the ground.
I’m leaving with an appropriate level of trepidation that comes when you’re on the other side of the globe from my wife and children. I’m also going with a certain amount of anticipation that life will never be the same for me. With everything that has happened on my journey this past month, Africa is a perfect crescendo. Or perhaps it’s just a starting point for something entirely new…
In the world of over promise under deliver that is death timeline guessing I kept getting estimates of 6-12 months. This was always given with a caveat of “optimistically”. I finally cornered Doc Wagner who was probably one of the smartest guys I’d ever met while simultaneously being the most socially inept. While all of his classmates in college were carrying on with beer bongs he was probably enjoying an exciting game of star trek trivia.
It was Doc Wagner that said one phrase that I remember all too well. “Weeks not months”. It was sometime early in the first week of August. I had to make a decision of whether or not to go to Africa. At the time I dropped an email to my friend Nick who is with Creation Festival and told him I couldn’t go. It’s not like you can catch a flight out of Uganda on the cheap if your mom dies.
But I had this feeling. Those who know me know I’m not a guy that says God speaks to me. In fact I’ve never heard the voice of God audibly before and I’m always intrigued when someone says they have. Not so much because I don’t believe them but more in a wondering what it actually sounds like. I personally hold to the hope that He sounds like James Earl Jones but after that Jim Carrey movie I’d be OK if He sounded like Morgan Freeman too.
I also wonder if when God speaks to someone does it count as infallible and become on the same level as scripture? That feels very Mormon to me. I digress.
The promise of the new covenant in Jeremiah 31 was that God would write His will on our hearts and our minds. I had this sort of “knowing” in my heart and mind that it was OK to go. I told my mom. I’m not entirely sure she understood the implications because she was jacked on morphine, but she seemed supportive. I emailed Nick back and said never mind. I’m going.
At the time I wasn't sure what "ok to go" really meant. I think I thought she would live longer. I honestly didn't have clarity one way or the other. Now I know. It really is OK. Mom will just have a different vantage point of the trip. Before it was just pictures. Now it's a ringside seat.
Less than a month later I’m on the eve of leaving for that trip to Africa; Uganda to be specific. I’ve packed two suitcases full of stuff. One for me personally and the other full of a dollar store buying binge; bubbles, balls, colors, books, construction paper, more bubbles and candy.
I’m all stocked up on the meds, the shots and the snacks. I’m thinking I could possibly lose some weight with natures own diet plan. For that I have purchased Imodium. I plan on taking it by the fistful. I know it could have the opposite affect but considering the toilet options that I’m sure to be facing I’m uniquely ok with that. The lat time I was on foreign soil I ingested some sort of parasite that literally wrestled my colon to the ground.
I’m leaving with an appropriate level of trepidation that comes when you’re on the other side of the globe from my wife and children. I’m also going with a certain amount of anticipation that life will never be the same for me. With everything that has happened on my journey this past month, Africa is a perfect crescendo. Or perhaps it’s just a starting point for something entirely new…
Monday, September 1, 2008
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