Kicking off Halloween in Horror

This morning (Halloween day) I went to the DMV and oh, what a horrorible place that is.

They talk about the rise and fall of civilizations.  If the “wait time” at the Driver’s License Bureau is any indication, I’d say America is on the rocks.

I’ve been twice in two days.  Yesterday I went at 10am because I thought that would be a good time to miss the morning crowd and beat the lunch crowd (also, that’s when I woke up).  Guess again! the place was so packed I knew I’d be there all day so turned and left, determined to beat the system later.

The ingenious plan I hatched was to arrive before the place even opens at 7:00am.  Haha, that oughta work, right?  The early bird gets the worm, right?  No line, right?

Thus, this morning at the ghastly hour of 6:55am I could be found bleary eyed, shivering in the dark, stumbling into the DMV, only to be greeted with… an insanely long line!  Apparently I wasn’t the only person in Wichita hatching the same sneaky idea.

Despite my best efforts, my wait time was still 40 minutes.  Perhaps if I’d arrived 40 minutes before it opened instead of 5, I could have been first in line.

Heads up, they’ve changed the format at 21st and Amidon.  Now you don’t shuffle along in a de-humanizing queue reminiscent of food line photos from the former Soviet Union, but instead sit in a well-lit lobby with an assigned number.

Additionally, they have installed a screen which gives estimated wait times, which is nice.  My number was 19, yet somehow they went to number 32 before I was called.  Then I was treated with suspicion and my number double checked to make sure I wasn’t cutting.

As I walked up, trying to straighten the arthritis from my back after sitting so long, I gave the lady a cheerful, “Good morning,” and what I considered (on the inside) to be a pleasant smile.  However, my neighborly cheer was not reciprocated.  Working there must be a hard life.

You know, what I also found a bit eerie is how silent it gets in the waiting room with the huddled masses hunched over their smartphones in mesmerized trances.  Airports are the same way.

I think someone needs to invent a smartphone app that monitors surroundings and lets users know if there’s ever any reason to look up from the screen.

The Tube of You

So one of my best talents is watching YouTube videos.  It’s not hard, really, just keep clicking the never-ending recommended clips.  Yet I seem to have an innate knack.

It’s impossible to watch everything on Youtube because eight years of new content is posted daily!  Wow.

Awhile ago I watched a bunch of America’s Got Talent clips…  and Britain’s Got Talent, Australia’s Got Talent, France Has Talent  (France has work to do, by the way).

Ahh, good ol’ Susan Boyle.

I found the longer I watched the less talent there was.  Pretty soon I’d seen most the ones with over a million hits.  As you know, if it doesn’t have at least a million hits, it’s not worth watching.

But the Talent TV shows got me thinking, “All the glory [or infamy] in these programs go directly to the person on stage.  They get their moment basking in glory, and then…?”

Sure, some go on to sign a record label, like Boyle.  Though even her CD title, “Standing Ovation,” is revealing.  Others, less fortunate, fade into obscurity.

Not that it’s wrong to bask in the praise of men, per se, but as Jesus says, “They have received their reward in full.”

Got me wondering what the proper stance is in a show-off skill like musicianship?  There aren’t any hard and fast rules, but two things come to mind:

  1. Be inspiring.  Ideally through lifting others hearts toward God.  This is one reason I’ve primarily played Sacred Music over the years on piano.
  2. Create beauty!  ThePianoGuys do a great job at this.  Just watching their works brings peace.

Thanks Be, My Heart is Still Pumping

In other news, I received a heart rate monitor in the mail this week (because I ordered it off Amazon last week).

Yep, I’m on a new kick of running.  In theory, I’m training for a 100-mile ultramarathon so need the heart rate monitor to fine tune my intensive racing schedule.  In practice, I’ve gotten to where I can locomote my body about half hour before it collapses into a jelly-melt on the sidewalk.

Turns out there are multiple “zones” one can exercise the heart in.  One for burning fat, one for slow-twitch muscle growth, one for fast-twitch, one for keeling over with a heart attack in the middle of the road, etc.

Then there is the Maximal zone, when your heart is running at 90% capacity (or higher).  That zone is not recommended for routine training.

Anxious to try my new monitor, I went on a leisurely jog, intending to target the aerobic level.  Within two minutes my heartrate was up to “Maximal Zone.”  Yikes.

Tried slowing down, but hey, I wasn’t not out to walk, but to run like the wind.  Which is to say I was already moving so slow any further reduction in speed would have been walking.

So I ended up jogging several miles in the high heartrate zone.  They say when the heart runs full-out pitter-patter the body doesn’t even burn fat, only carbs!  Lucky for me I had downed four butter-biscuits loaded with carbs just before heading out, so I was Ok.

Life Through New Lenses

Here at home I’m wrapping up loose ends before heading to Haiti.  One was getting my dilapidated glasses replaced.  Been wearing my stodgy pair because the good ones were lost in the Current river whilst canoeing last June.  Yes, the expensive $400 ones.

The worst part about getting a new pair of glasses is the initial adjustment.  These ones were particularly stubborn as they’re made from flexible materials difficult to re-flex.

First my earpieces needed bent.  Then my nose pieces were too close.  Then they were too far apart.  Then crooked.  Finally, all seemed well.  The lady had made them comfortable, and I left.

Driving away from the office, I glanced in the rearview mirror and noticed my glasses were slewed sideways on my face… one lens up in the air, the other down low.  “That’s odd,” I thought, and pushed the high side down.  It came back up.

Shucks, they need more adjusting, but am I going to be that “obnoxious customer” who comes back in with more complaints?  Not I, too embarrassing.  Especially after all the hard work she’d done (think she was new).

So I decided to swing by good ol’ Wal-Mart on my way home and have them take a gander at my proud new specs.

There, a motherly type gave me a hard stare before starting in with something to the effect of, “Good gracious, child! these are off something terrible.”   Yeah, I know.

She began working her magic, tweaking, bending, prying, grimacing.  She was not impressed, “Honey, ‘ave you jest gotten your head smashed into with a ball?”

How was I supposed to answer, seeing they were brand new and just laboriously adjusted?  I answered truthfully, “No.”

“Then why come these frames are so bent up crooked?” she exclaimed, giving me a hard look, no doubt wondering if the impact had knocked out a few of my memories.

Finally she got them to where they sat crooked on the table between us, but more or less straight on my face.  Maybe I need a new facial next, or perhaps a face alignment.

The End of Horror

So maybe this post wasn’t so much about kicking off Halloween in Horror as it was about kicking it off in Humor.

Honestly, I didn’t even know it was Halloween today until I went through the McDonald’s drive-thru and a pink ballerina was at the window to take my money (complete with tu-tu).

That got me wondering if something was up, so I asked her if it was Halloween or St. Patrick’s Day or something and she told me yes, it was Halloween.

Do Pictures Make Our Lives Better?

Back in 1824, Joseph Niépc took the first photograph ever – a view looking out the window of his home in France.  Here it is:

First Photo

That may have been the first photograph, but believe me, it wasn’t the last, though I’d venture to opine many taken since are hardly more interesting. 

188 years later, us humans take photos at prodigious rates.  According to a recent USA Today article (dated June, 2012) over 300 million photos are being uploaded to Facebook per day.

That’s over 100 billion photos per year being uploaded just to Facebook!

I’m as guilty as the next person, having snapped over 10,000 pics in the last year alone.

It’s easy to go crazy with digital cameras.  When I was a kid back in the stone age of film cameras I remember only getting 24 exposures per roll, and couldn’t see what they looked like until after they developed.  Couldn’t take so many back then.

But I wonder, what are all these photos doing for me?  I take time to shoot them, I take time to organize and store them, I purchase hard drives to hold them, I may or may not take time to view them later.

Yeah, they tell a story, but couldn’t I tell a story in writing? or better yet, in person?  Yeah, they may impress someone (there I am, standing in front of x, y, or z), but is that necessary?  Yeah, photos capture events, but isn’t that what God gave us memories for? 

Speaking of events, the cost of shooting weddings usually runs between $1,000 and $5,000 dollars.  Photography is big business.  In more ways than one.  If we didn’t have photos we might not have billboards.  Or risqué magazines at every convenience store checkout.  Or worse.

Most the world never had cameras, and they seemed to have got along fine without them.  We tend to think of the “old days” being in black and white, but before 1824 there wasn’t even black and white!  All they had was cave art scratched with burnt sticks.  And Michael de Angelo.

As I examine my own motives, I become suspiciously aware that vanity plays the larger part in my desire to have good photos of myself.  And pride and impressing others a good deal to do with many of the rest.

Of course, I’m not saying it’s all bad.  I’ve taken sunset pictures from nature, for example, which were nice to look at later, and fun to set as my desktop background.

Yet, I think taking pictures pulls me away from the present.  It focuses my attention on capturing “the moment” so as to live it again in the future.  Then in the future looking back at them, I’m again dwelling on the past. 

How often have we missed the real moment in our exuberance to get that elusively perfect shot?

This post isn’t meant to condemn cameras as “bad,” per se.  Surely they have their good points.  I enjoy taking pictures as a hobby.

But I’m beginning to wonder if it’s all a bit much?  Maybe photos are overrated?  Cameras weren’t given to us by God as standard equipment with birth, so they must not be essential. We don’t have any pictures of Jesus with his 12 disciples…  I’m wondering if it is all a clever ploy for my time to be distracted from things more important?

I don’t know, what do you think?

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Texting Beyond Our Limits

My Remarks Following a Visit to the Local Salt Mine

On Monday I visited the Hutchinson Salt Mine with Luke and Mom. 

Being so deep underground (twice the depth of the height of the Statue of Liberty) was disconcerting.  ‘Tis not hospitable for humans down there… had the ventilators quit working we would soon have died from lack of air.  I noticed a tangy smell/taste that made my tongue feel acrid.  Definitely not my first choice for work conditions.  Others may, but I cannot.

The tour operator instructed us not to lick the salt, whatever we did, because it was low grade only used for de-icing roads, not for human consumption.  Luke was quite curious and badly wanted to test the culinary quality, but refrained because – I guess – all the warnings dire.  But then, next thing I know he’d done gone ahead and ate a piece!  No rules against that.  I think he’s Ok, and not palpably ill. 

Now its been proven (by us) their salt is fine for people to eat, perhaps we could recommend the mine broaden their market?

Lighting down there was skimpy, so if you ever visit, do bring a flashlight.  The following picture was taken with my cell phone in the only location lit enough to not need a flash: the Men’s Room.

in the Salt Mines of Mordor (ie Hutchinson)

The nifty apparatus slung over my shoulder is a rebreathing device that would convert hazardous gas back into oxygen in the case of a fire.  In 50 years of mining, there hasn’t been a fire yet, thanks Be.  Salt doesn’t burn, which is a plus, and I left all my fireworks at home. 

The floors were smooth and made from saltcrete, (like concrete but from salt).  They said if water gets on the floors they’ll melt like the wicked witch from Wizard of Oz. 

At one point in our tour we had to traverse some five yards of unfinished dirt-like ground.  Before we did so, we were given solemn warnings on the safety hazards of crossing this hazardous, uneven ground.  Good grief!

It’s times like these I have that little bit of culture “shock,” wondering to myself how a caution like this would be received by someone from the Moi tribe?  No doubt a circuit or two would be blown in their brains.  They routinely traverse muddy logs over rushing rivers while balancing heavy burdens or carrying a child slung on their back in a handwoven sack and don’t think twice.  And here to be lectured on the dangers of walking across some dirt?

There are other dangers.  For instance, from time to time ceilings cave in.  That’s dangerous, but thankfully no one so far has been under one when it happened.  In fact, no one has died in the mine yet, supposedly.

I found it interesting they told us that, on the one hand, it will take 50,000 more years for the current 9’ ceilings to get squished back into the ground.  Yet on the other hand, I saw with my own eyes a ceiling that had caved in with significantly less time (like 50 years).  Fortunately, we were all wearing hard hats.

So it’s a working mine, providing salt for roads all over the US.  Like I said, they don’t mine for human consumption.  Despite the massive production quantity (including providing anti-ice for Chicago) the grand total of miners down there furiously chipping away are only…. four! 

No joke, four miners.  Ha, the wonders of mechanization (and explosives), we no longer need people. 

Speaking of mechanization, saw an article on robots in Popular Science while waiting in the eye doctors office this week.  Robots these days have come a long way.  They’re now so smart, and learning so fast, it’s predicted we will soon have our own to do our bidding: from brewing up coffee on our automated coffee makers, to putting dirty dishes into our dishwashers (and turning them on), to fiddling with the thermostat when we get too hot or cold, to popping open a refreshing can of Dr. Pepper for us from the fridge.  Won’t it be great having our own robots?

Robot Gets a Coke

The robot above can get a can of Coke from a specialized fridge, but I’m holding out for one than can bring me Dr. Pepper, which I prefer.

But back to my subject… All in all, I recommend visiting the famous and romanticized Salt Mines of Hutchin-lore if you ever have the chance. Here it is, one of the premier tourist attractions of my home, and one of the 32 Wonders of Kansas, and I’m just now experienced them at this late point in my life! Inconceivable. 

Hey, whenever you do visit… if you happen to find Mom’s reading glasses on the train down there, please bring them back for her.

Haiti: Idyllic Isle with a Few Worrisome Woes

View from on Top of Our House in Carrefour

Travelling Again!

So once again I’m travelling, to wit: in Haiti – with all that implies. 

Upon arrival last Thursday I hit the ground running and have been until today, which is being used to catch up: doing laundry (by hand in a bucket, using laundry powder purchased in Indonesia), visiting locals at the guest house I’m staying, playing the piano (yes! they have one here), reading, relaxing, and writing.

I’ve slept four different places in the last six nights.  One of them was in the Dallas airport, several were miserably hot with no fan, and one was on the concrete floor of a church.

A Quick Overview of What I’ve Been Up To Here

By any standard, a lot has been crammed into the time so far.  By Haitian standards (where nothing runs smoothly) it’s perhaps mildly impressive: Visited an orphanage for 60 girls (twas very poor), visited a bizarre orphanage for 400 boys, traveled with local pastor and friend Watson a couple hours out of the capital to his church for an all-day Sunday wipe-out extravaganza, embarked on several shopping trips, including one to a local Christian bookstore where Bibles were purchased, and am currently staying at a Home for Boys for previous street children where I’m getting to meet and talk with the youth.

Here’s a pic of my friend Watson and his wife:

Watson & Fam

Son of God Orphanage “Kids Update”

So Jeremy and I followed up with as many of the Son of God Orphanage kids as we could.  The girls seem to be doing well, though don’t have much.  37 of them from Son of God were sent to a single small orphanage that was, I gather, overwhelmed by the influx.  We visited it, bringing a bunch of mangos for a token gift.  Though the girls seemed happy overall, and the director appears to be kind, it was (to me) a dreary place, and many of them were wearing clothing far beyond the Goodwill stage.  I was told 16 of the 37 have already moved on to live with next of kin.

The boys appear to be doing so-so.  They are mixed into a massive orphanage complex.  Some seemed happy, but near as I could tell it was in spite of their current circumstances, not because of them.  There were kids who remembered us and seemed glad we visited. 

Jeremy and I spent several days with two of the boys in particular (brothers Daniel and Evenson).  They tagged along as we followed up with other kiddos.  Jeremy has taken a special interest in their situation.

The four of us were “batching it,” and the boys rustled up most the food, as they disapproved of the way Jeremy and I cooked.  Don’t you know spaghetti needs ketchup, mayonnaise, and tons of oil??

Daniel and Evenson and Jeremy

Of the three kids whom I was personally most interested in locating, I found one: Miel, and he seemed OK.  Due to odd restrictions I only got to visit with him a minute, but he remembered me and I gave him a hug and told him I was praying for him. 

Regarding the other two: Job and his sister Yansommah, I did learn they have gone back to their local village to live with relatives.  I hope they are doing fine…  Perhaps I can find them in the future.

The Good News

It’s not all gloom and bug-bites here.  I’ve already met a number of kind people, been impressed by hospitality, and seen acts of kindness, all in less than a week. 

At a basic level, people are similar everywhere: trying to make a living, keep healthy marriages, raise kids, and want the best for their families.  Naturally sin puts a wrench in the realization of those desires, and that’s why we need the Grace of God on a daily basis.

The picture of Watson’s little girl Dorana, sleeping below, kind of sums up for me how the world is the same all over.  She was scared of me at first, but eventually warmed up and let me hold her without fussing.  Reminded me on my little nieces.

Holding Sleeping Baby

Local Traffic Hasn’t Improved Since My Last Visit

Traffic and chaos here are as crazy as I remembered, perhaps more so, yet at the same time seem more normal now after having experienced a few other “developing country” cultures. 

One of the local forms of transportation here are vans just like they use back in Ethiopia/Kenya (called Motatus there).  This is my third trip to Haiti, but my first to use the public vans, though I’ve spent my fair share of time in them over in Africa.  Twice in the last several days I’ve spent a couple hours riding in one, sharing it with some 20 other passengers, my luggage jammed in my lap, hawkers trying to sell me food through the windows, squeezed in tight on both sides, and believe it or not, I felt quite at home! 

“This is just like I’m used to in Africa!”  I told Watson, adding, “Haiti reminds me of Africa, just about 50% crazier.”

Many Haitians Still Desperate

The desperate needs here can be quickly overwhelming.  Seems everyone has needs.  Not wants… needs.  A mother asked Jeremy and I if we could help send her daughters to school.  Sounds like a simple request that any charitably rich person would be happy to meet.  But nothing is simple: that same mother also needed many other things including a roof over her head and… more importantly, food!  but so do many others, and it’s hard to know when to draw the line… one can’t bankroll the entire country.

This is a problem others here wrestle with as well.  A Christian man I will meet tomorrow, John McHoul, just wrote a post about a woman here who wants to give up her daughter for him and his wife to care for.  His thoughts are poignant, you can read them here.  I’ve firsthand seen a similar thing happen, even on this trip. 

How Much Help is Too Much?

It’s not ideal for Haitians to be dependent on benefactors for their daily bread, purchasing a home, school bills, and everything else, etc.  Surely there is another answer?  You often hear Haitians need jobs, and they do, but doing what?  Foreign investment is low because of political instability.

Watson told me he would like to start a school connected with his church in the rural community he serves:  “It would provide jobs,” he explained, “I could hire teachers, cleaners, etc, and I would also make it free for all the students as parents can’t afford it.” 

Umm.. where will the money come from to run the school if tuition is free?  Where will the teachers salaries come from?  Unfortunately, it’s true many parents can’t afford to send their kids to school: many are subsistence peasants living and bartering off garden plots one acre or less in size. 

I was told he government would give Watson $100/student per year if he were to start a school.  That’s a start. 

Since many in the countryside cannot even read, I wondered if there were qualified teachers out there from which to hire?  Or would the teaching jobs created be filled by educated folks from the capital?

Local Norms I’m Reminded Of

Being here has jostled my memory of other distinctives from this Caribbean island: the staple food of rice and beans, intermittent electrical power, humid heat, waving palm trees, blue ocean, drinking water from sealed plastic bags, all the buildings made from concrete, being bitten alive, the general public showing little sense of “noise respect”, and being regarded as a foreigner (like a curios relic).

The sporadic electricity is annoying.  You never know if it’s going to turn off for five minutes, an hour, a day, longer?  Doesn’t seem to be rhyme or reason to it.  One evening, after about 24 hours without power it suddenly flicked on and I heard cheering up and down the street. 

Of course, to every sunbeam there is a stormy cloud: in this case once the electricity turned on all sense of peace and quiet was wrecked as radios were cranked back up.

Inspired by Mueller, of the George Variety

Yesterday I finished a biography of George Muller I had borrowed from the church library.  Seeing his example of faith in believing God would provide in extra ordinary ways – then seeing God indeed provide was very encouraging, and influenced my opinions on this issue. 

Mueller primarily wanted to show God strong to a skeptical world, even above the benefits running his Orphan Homes had, in the end, on helping provide for and raise over 10,000 children. 

The timing of my reading the book seemed particularly beneficial in light of the needs I’m seeing here, especially in regards to Orphans.

A verse I’ve been thinking about today is Col 3:2, “Set your minds on things above, not on earthly things.”  Mueller spent a lot of time in prayer and said himself towards the end of his life he pretty much lived in a constant state of prayer, and the “answers were always coming.”  “Devote yourselves to prayer,” says Colossians 4:2 – Mueller did.

“There is life and power, and reality in our holy faith.  If you never yet have known this, then come and taste for yourself.” ~George Mueller

Cloudy Dusk Across Port-au Prince

Goals for this 10-Day Trip to Haiti

Haiti

Today I’m heading off to Port-au Prince, Haiti.  Should be back next Friday.

Goals for this trip include:

  1. Trying to find and meet with various children from the now-defunct Son of God orphanage to see how they are doing and encourage them in some way.
  2. Meet with two organizations that work with Street Kids (Child Hope and St. Joseph’s Home for boys) to learn more about how they operate and better understand their unique challenges.
  3. Visit Heartline Ministries, where I’m pursuing a volunteering position starting this upcoming December.
  4. Spend time with a local pastor (Watson) to better understand his ministry and learn more about the spiritual climate in Haiti.
  5. Be flexible to learn or do whatever God might have for me!

While the goals are worthwhile, all of them are relational and intellectual in nature, not leaving behind a tangible result in the way a construction project would, for example.  My hope is to learn some important things and deepen some relationships.

This will be my third time to visit Haiti, yet I still find it an intimidating place.  It’s true I’ve wandered around Israel, Ethiopia, Kenya, and a few other spots outside America by myself, but Haiti is in a class of its own.  I feel more comfortable hopping on a Motatu in Addis than a tap-tap in Port-au Prince, but in reality there’s probably not much difference. Perhaps the congestion in Haiti’s capital is what makes it seem worse.

The extreme poverty does play a role in the intimidation factor… Fox Business News recently ranked Haiti as the #1 poorest country in the world.  Despite being impoverished, it is not a cheap place to visit!  Think I could do a Caribbean cruise for less money.

I checked the 10-day weather forecast for Port-au Prince and every day the highs are predicted for the mid-90s.  Welcome back, summer…!

Would appreciate prayers for wisdom and guidance. 

Also am hoping to find the boy in the picture below.  His name is Job, and I’m concerned about him and his sister.

Job and Nick

My Life is a Story, But How’s the Scripting?

Life is a story.  Yours is.  Mine is. 

(heads up, this post isn’t very interesting, just random musings)

One of the dozen or so blogs I follow is Screenwriting Tips.  Every day a thought-provoking tidbit is shared on effective scriptwriting.  Below are several I appreciated on “Crafting a protagonist (hero)”:

  1. At the character bio stage, don’t create characters whose goals fit neatly together like pieces in a puzzle. Instead, give them goals and desires that directly conflict with each other.
  2. Your protagonist gets to be in control during the first twenty pages and the last twenty. For the rest of the script she should be struggling, confused or otherwise on the back foot.
  3. At the simplest level, antagonists are just characters who force your protagonist to make choices.
  4. Think of your protagonist’s arc in terms of sacrifice. At the beginning of the script, she’s willing to sacrifice very little and gets nothing in return. By the end, she should be willing to sacrifice everything to gain everything in return.

I see elements of these “tips” have unintentionally slipped into my own life, largely against my will.

For instance, same as in Tip 1 my desires/goals often stand in conflict: 

  1. Become more involved in Kansas / Become more involved in Haiti
  2. Aspire for wisdom and humility / Aspire for riches and fame
  3. Eat more junk food + never run again / Eat less junk food + exercise
  4. Get married and live a steady life / Stay single and carefree as the wind!

Such dilemmas. 

Even Jesus had quandaries, praying in the Garden that, “this cup would pass.”  He hardly relished the upcoming ordeal, yet desired most to execute His Father’s will, which He did.

Guess it’s not a sin to have a conflict, just so long as the good angel comes out on top.  Why are the right decisions always the hardest ones?

Tip 2 said good stories keep the hero, “struggling, confused or otherwise on the back foot.”  I find in life when things get too comfortable, I get uncomfortable… wondering what’s next?  Surely goodness won’t last… and usually it doesn’t, though oft at my own bequest resulting from a bad habit of signing up for new challenges, a glutton for punishment.

They say if you help a newborning chicken (?) crack open its’ shell, it will later die from improper muscle development.  Don’t know if that’s true, but instinctively we know difficulty and struggle yields growth… and growth is good!

All great scripts are replete with struggle and conflict.

In the story of the Prodigal Son, the prodigal was in control at the beginning of the story and never again, soon he was struggling and confused as his life spiraled downwards from a result of destructively short-sighted decisions.  That story is well scripted.  Isn’t it ironic his own worst enemy was himself? something often true in my own life too.

Tip 3 explained the purpose of antagonists: to provoke the protagonist to action, to decision!

Who or what are the antagonists in our lives?  High stress?  An annoying neighbor or nagging boss?  Moral dilemmas?  Ice cream and candy bars?  A broken-down car?  Disappointments?  Internal desires?  Bad health?  Hurricane Isaac?  All the above?

Antagonists are anything that upsets our equilibrium, not just villains.

Though it CAN be villains: I’m currently reading the book, Decision Points by George W. Bush.  The discussion over 9/11 revolved around how that event forced our nation to craft new decisions regarding our attitude towards terrorists.  Antagonists have a way of forcing the issues.

Having a bum back five years ago was an antagonist that forced me to face my mortality and eventually resulted in my reevaluating life, changing direction, and making difficult decisions about the future.  More immediate, the back pain I experienced for several months forced me then to make a decision on whether to have a positive attitude or a sour attitude.  Unfortunately, I made the wrong decision and was pretty sour during that trial.

Tip 4 deals with how a well-crafted hero should substantially change throughout a story, particularly in regards to his values and priorities.

Peter denied Christ three times in one evening, yet later was crucified upside down for refusing to denounce Christ!  Talk about change, he is a protagonist of the first order.

Ever done the exercise where you think back ten years to what an important priority in your life was then?   Ten years ago I was 19 and making the cut in college was a top concern.  Then you think back 20 years ago and ask the same question…  I was 9 years old then and my cup of tea was working towards becoming a computer game programmer.  30 years ago?  At that time I was –1 and nervously anticipating birth.

Seriously, I do at times marvel how different I am now than five years ago, or ten.  Particularly in values.  Looking forward I think, “Where am I headed?  What are my goals?  What am I fighting for?  Are my goals worth fighting for?  What type of sacrifices am I prepared to reach my destination?”

Conclusion

The point of this post was to generate thought in how our lives are not just our lives, but also interesting stories complete with intricate plots and character developments. 

Perhaps we often miss the forest of our lives for the trees of daily living?  I wonder, is my story one of forging ahead to make a difference in things that really matter, or merely moseying in circles?  That thought is sobering.

On a spiritual note, God was working in the lives of honest-to-goodness people in the Bible when they often they didn’t know it at the time.  Most Old Testament characters had no idea of the bigger picture their small part was playing.  I like to think that in the same way God is using my life to weave a larger tapestry: someday I’ll see it, stand back, and say, “Wow!”

J.R.R. Tolkien, a master story-teller in his own right, wove clues on his philosophy of “story” into the very script of his most famous story, The Lord of the Rings (watch it here):

Frodo: I can’t do this, Sam.

Sam: I know. It’s all wrong. By rights we shouldn’t even be here. But we are. It’s like in the great stories, Mr. Frodo. The ones that really mattered. Full of darkness and danger, they were. And sometimes you didn’t want to know the end. Because how could the end be happy? How could the world go back to the way it was when so much bad had happened? But in the end, it’s only a passing thing, this shadow. Even darkness must pass. A new day will come. And when the sun shines it will shine out the clearer. Those were the stories that stayed with you. That meant something, even if you were too small to understand why. But I think, Mr. Frodo, I do understand. I know now. Folk in those stories had lots of chances of turning back, only they didn’t. They kept going. Because they were holding on to something.

Frodo: What are we holding onto, Sam?

Sam: That there’s some good in this world, Mr. Frodo… and it’s worth fighting for.

I would add to Sam’s comment there is a God who promises a new day, a bright one, for those who hold to faith in Him, an invisible being who has made outlandish promises to humans through his Word, the Bible:

Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations… Without weakening in his faith… he did not waver through unbelief at the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised.(Rom 4:17-22)

Tent and Sailboat Camping in Oklahoma

Last weekend Dad and I went on a three day Father-Son campout. 

All great expeditions start at QuickTrip, and this one was no exception:

QT

The lake we visited, Broken Bow, is known for both its clear waters and also being dotted with scenic islands.  I was planning for us to boat to one of those scenic islands and camp on it.  Yet… I forgot we’re in America, the land of a million rules, one of which was, “No camping on the islands.”  Shucks, why do they have to take the fun out of everything?

So we car camped, which was just as well…. except that if you know us Middleton’s and car camping we have to look over every possible option before making a decision.  For the first hour of driving around various campgrounds I was despairing of ever finding something halfway decent (ie: secluded, flat, scenic, with easy lake access, etc) but then we discovered this beautiful gem, all tucked away in a back corner with nary a soul around (ok, one other soul, but of the “non-alcoholic peacable” variety):

Our Campsite

Boats at our Campspot

As far as the sailing went, it was decent.  Sometimes we had enough wind, a time or two a storm blew through and we had too much wind, and sometimes we were completely becalmed… But weather conditions are all part of the fun.  And the main thing isn’t the sailing anyways, it’s just to be outside, away from the “grind,” and spending time together. I’m 15 months removed from any type of “grind,” but still felt the trip was needed for me to unwind from my unwinding.

Here’s a pic I snapped of the boats on an island we stopped for lunch:

Docked for Lunch

I nearly fell asleep because I’m fairly lazy, as a rule:

Napping

Here is a minute worth of non-professional video clips:

Dad and I Camping

All in all I would say it was a success.  Our tent only blew over once (while we were sleeping in it) and we only got stuck on the lake in thunderstorms a few times. 

Trivia: Did you know it always rains on Middleton campouts?  Yep, this has been documented as far back as 20 years ago (when my re-memory began).  I used to say, when we planned a campout, “It’s going to rain” with a *wink* *wink” because we really know it’s all a coincidence, right?  Nope, I no longer believe in coincidence, there must be an uncanny force at work, one with a propensive bent towards mischief, I shouldn’t wonder.

The phenomena could be illustrated well through the recounting of hosts of stories.  One of the most dramatic was the Trinity Baptist Father-Son campout Dad organized when I was about 10.  I remember our tent collapsing in the night during a salacious downpour replete with continual lightning, thunder, and monsoon-like rains.  So we left our tent in a heap and went to sleep in the van.  Then someone woke us up a few hours later rapping on our windows and pointing out we were now on an island in the middle of a flash flood!  Oh the joys of camping. 

More recently, in Israel I went backpacking several times with my Polish friend Tomasz.  He caught on real quick to the whole Nick-Rain-Deal, and by the second time out was already questioning whether he wanted to be camping with me anymore! 

No joke, the two of us went out to the Negev desert and got rained out.  Apparently it only pours there on the rarest of occasions (annual rainfall ~1inch).  So rare in fact, that the next day we came across geology students who had driven down from Jerusalem just to witness the unique features created by a rainstorm in the desert since it hardly ever happens!  Well, what did they expect?  A Middleton showed up in Israel.

Lastly, here we are in the middle of a drought in Wichita, right?  The creek behind my parents house is DRY which has never happened in the 14 years they’ve lived there.  Yet… the morning we left for Oklahoma there was so much rain Mom called us later to say there was mass flooding in Wichita!  Go figure.

I’m not sure if it’s a Middleton thing or a Nick thing.  Maybe I should change my name to Jonah?

Life in the Slow Lane

So after five weeks working at summer Bible camp, I’m back in Wichita.  There were friends I made at camp I most likely won’t see again anytime soon.  Sad.  But, there are friends here I’m getting re-acquainted with. 

The whole last year of my life seems to be a long series of “hellos” and “goodbye’s.”  Frustrating.  Sometimes it feels like I have a million acquaintances but no friends.  Maybe I should stay put in one place a little longer?

I had to laugh at a sign I recently saw in front of an Automotive Collision Repair Shop that read, “We make friends by accident.” 

While I too have met many people by accident, I’ve also met many people intentionally.  I find my better friends are ones which chose me and not ones I chose.  Probably some spiritual lesson there…  God can only have true relationship with those who reciprocally choose Him.

While I have things to do here back home, it is a bit depressing to not be living the life of high adventure.  Instead, I’ve been working on getting my car running again.  It was over-heating, but now it’s fixed.

High adventure aside, I miss living in community like I did on the Kibbutz in Israel or at Camp this summer (and last summer).

Been spending some time researching Haiti, where I’d like to go back.  Reading about it’s history, culture, people, geography, strengths, weaknesses, and language.  Even listened to Haitian Christian music on Youtube, some of which drives me nuts because its too repetetive while other songs I truly enjoy.  Good or bad, they greatly enjoy their music.  I liked this a capella group and this choir singing Psalm 23.

Speaking of music on the Tube of You, have you heard ThePianoGuys?  Not sure why they have that name because only one out of four plays the piano: 1 cameraman, 1 audioman, 1 pianist, and 1 cellist.  They put together fantastic stuff.  A few classics are: Somewhere Over the Rainbow and Me and My Cello – but my personal favorite is Bourne Vivaldi.

Since I haven’t written in forever, I forgot to mention the last two weeks I was at camp my job was life-guarding (which was fun).  No one drowned so that was a success. 

Lifeguard Pic

I wish there was more to write about, but my life is pretty slow these days.

Crocs, Moby Dick, a Lost Toothbrush and a Light Princess

I was too quick to laud the merits of Crocs in my last post.  This week one of mine sat out in the sun an entire day and (would you know it?) shrunk down at least two whole sizes!  No joke. 

Made me feel like one of Cinderella’s sisters trying to jam a foot into a glass slipper, my heel hanging out the back.  Who would have thunk mere sunshine would shrink a Croc down like cannibalistic natives shrink heads? 

The sun ruined another of my belongings as well.  After sitting in the broiling trunk of my car for some time, my laptop battery no longer accepts a charge.  This is sad, but someone told me I should put it in the refrigerator to fix it.  I tried. It didn’t work.  Then they told me I should put it in a ziplock baggy and freeze it.  With some trepediation, and after warning my roommates to not be alarmed if they heard a muffled *boom* from the freezer, I tried that as well. Thankfully it didn’t explode, but the trick didn’t fix it either. Maybe I should try throwing it against a concrete wall next?

So another week has passed at camp.  I was a lifeguard, and will be again next week.  Nobody drowned on my watch, for which I’m thankful.  The only event of note was on a tube float…. one guy got this large hook stuck in his heel!  Apparently some aspiring Captain Ahab missed his Moby Dick, only to later, in a roundabout fashion, harpoon a 22 year old human!  What’s worse is the hook was attached to a line which was snagged at the bottom of the river.  So this fellow was struggling to tread water against the current!  With some fanfare we freed him, after one of our number produced a massive knife which he had been swimming with for just such an occasion.  Our saved victim was appreciative, and after getting him to shore the hook was removed, only having buried itself in about 1/2 inch.

In between snatches of this and that I’ve managed to do some reading.

Almost finished the book, Haiti: the Tumultuous History – From Pearl of the Caribbean to Broken Nation.  It’s enlightening, but soo depressing and makes me feel angry at Hatian’s crooked leaders. 

Also read a shorter work, The Light Princess, a fairy tale by George MacDonald.  It was clever, funny, and fun.  The protagonist reminded me of at least one person I know.  The chief lesson was that love is the only thing which can bring back into harmony laws out of balance.

In other news, in my last post I gave my current camp address in hopes of receiving more letters, and it worked!  I got a letter!  It was from the brother of my brothers’ brother-in-law.  So that was exciting.  I also got a cheery e-mail from Seth, an older brother of my father’s youngest son.

One day last week I lost both my Bible and my toothbrush!  Can you believe it?  I was again reminded of my propensity towards absent-mindedness.  After these losses, the quality of both my Bible reading and my teeth began deteriorating.  Later, after much searching, both essential items were found (though not in the same place) which made me happy.

I heard a series of messages this past week on King David and how he had a heart after God’s own heart, even though he had failures in his life, some of which were dramatic.  These messages were quite encouraging to me (and convicting), and when they get posted online I’ll link to them here.  Some main points were that David wanted to know God and actively sought after Him, that he owned up to his mistakes when confronted regarding them, that he was obedient in obeying God, and that he wanted to be where God was and for God to be where he was.

Off subject…. after spending a lot of time with kids this last month, I’ve got to thinking on the topic of “maturity”.  What is maturity?  I Googled it and the following definition appeared:

The state, fact, or period of being mature.    

Brilliant, Sherlock. 

My definition would include being serious, something I’ve noticed is outside the realm of possibility for many teenagers (especially guys), not to disparage the odd anomalies. 

In the OZARKS, where the Internet is RARE, and the heat is BLAZING

Here at Turkey Hill Bible Camp, finding internet is like finding a burning bush on the North Pole, it just ain’t happening. 

Last weekend I didn’t even have time to post a single jot or tiddle on simplefollower.  Making up for it now by posting twice in one fell swoop.  Impressive, I know.

So here I be at McDonald’s in Jeff City again, my standard portal into the interwebuhshphere.  Camp ended early this week: Friday instead of Saturday.  That’s because this past week was the final Youth camp of the summer and an extra day is given for cleaning up the facilities before Family Camps begin.

I didn’t counsel last week but instead was on, “Grounds Crew.”  We worked on making a new trail down to the lake and other such illustrious activities like weed-wacking, cleaning bathrooms, and raking leaves.

The best part of last week was the staff Bible study sessions.  We spent an hour each morning and an hour each afternoon in the Word.  We used various study techniques like summarizing (we summarized the book of Ephesians), looking at structure (looked at Revelation chapters 2 & 3), examining key words (John 15), and word studies (so do you know the difference between reprove and rebuke? or do you know what the word “Saved” really means?).  It was fun and I learned some things.

Being at camp these past three weeks has been a big spiritual recharge for me.  Mainly because I’m in the Bible so much, and around others who are like-minded.

I haven’t done much other reading, unfortunately.  I’m currently wading through a History of Haiti, which is fascinating.  The history of Haiti is more complex (and bloody) than I realized. 

The only book I’ve finished so far at camp has been Grandpa Jack’s, From Tarshish to Ninevah.  I’d link to Amazon, but don’t think he has it up there yet.  I enjoyed his stories and especially hearing about his faith in writing.  It got me thinking about my legacy of faith and how, in a roundabout way, it had an inauspicious beginning many years ago with a farmer sharing his faith with Grandpa.  I even mentioned that story (and the book) in a staff devotional I led one morning last week.

Let’s see, what else can I write about?  The news.  Well, my knowledge of current events and news is dismal.  Someone mentioned a shooting in Colorado and I assumed they meant Columbine, but then later realized there must have been a more recent calamity. 

I am, however, not in such a bat-cave as to not know that a new batman flick just premiered: The Dark Knight Rises, or some such.  However, I have no interest in watching it, because I don’t like batman, and it looks like a dark movie. 

In other news, I’m being asked (often) what I’m going to do next.  I have some ideas, but they don’t make sense (to others), and perhaps not entirely to myself either. 

I took comfort in John McHoul’s latest post about our lives being Living Sacrifices.  He said, among other things, something may be wrong when our lives make sense.  You have to read the whole artivle to get his context, but the gist was that our lives are in God’s hands, and they’re meant to be given up for Him, which means they likely will not look like the “status-quo” deal. 

Ok, I’d love to hear from you.  You being “anyone” who actually reads this, those few and far between people (like my Mom). 

I’ve only been checking my e-mail once a week, and hardly using the interwebs at all, which you would think would make checking my mail an exciting event as I get the fun of reading an entire weeks worth of personal letters in one sitting, but there’s a funny phenomena that happens when you don’t write other people: nobody writes you!  So my inbox is largely empty. 

Luckily, one person sent me a regular letter at camp, which bolstered my spirits.  And I hear on the grapevine my niece Kailee also sent me a bonafide letter, which unfortunately got detained in the mail, though I took comfort from her thoughtfulness, and even wrote her back, which was tricky since I didn’t know what important things she had written me about.

Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, I should be here two more weeks.

My address is:

Nick Middleton
c/o THRBC
13489 Maires Rd. 301
Vienna, MO 65582

Wilderness Week

Two weeks ago (July 15-21) I was one of four leaders on a week-long Current River canoe trip with fifteen teenagers. 

Here are a few pictures:

Group Photo

Bluffs

Canoeing

Morning Bible Lesson

Cooking Supper

A highlight was the time I spent up late talking with different guys.  One night until 2am!

When I was a kid (8?) I went on a week long father-son Current River trip led by Tom Richardson.  The strongest memories I have of that trip are sleeping on gravel bars and poking my feet on rocks all day because I forgot to bring my water socks (which mom had just bought for me the day before I left).  My whole life I’ve felt awful I forgot those brand new water socks on that particular campout (where we all got “Tip-A-Canoe” T-Shirts).  Never was there a campout on which they were more needful.

On this trip I was careful to not repeat history, and carefully packed away my “crocs.”  For those who don’t know, I’ve been wearing my trusty crocs nearly continuously for about three months now.  Even to such places as church (when I was overseas and didn’t have anything else) and while doing such jobs as construction work (like pickaxing through rock), mechanical work, and plenty of hiking.  Crocs truly are versatile, working well for nothing, but getting by for everything.  The best part is not having to wear socks anymore.

Remembering the aches put on my 8-year old back by sleeping on gravel bars, this time I packed not one, but TWO sleeping pads for my resting enjoyment.  They worked well, and I slept like a dead man, just like I do back home.  Which I’m not sure where home is anymore, as I guess I’m technically homeless. 

The funniest thing I saw on the river was a certain man (hillbilly?) doing a back flip off the top of a tall bluff (30 feet?).  This fellow was wearing bib overalls (with no shirt) and appeared to be “under the influence”, that is, at least before he jumped.  In my opinion he had enough height to do four somersaults, but instead did about 3/4 of one of them, and landed with a perfect belly-buster!  Haha, it was so funny.  Based on his swearing when he came up, I assume the impact sobered him.  At first I wondered if all his organs were ok, but guess they were, probably saved by his jean coveralls.

The scariest thing I did was swimming back in this cave-room place in the dark in a spring where the water was bitterly cold.  For the next half hour of canoeing afterwards (in 100 degree heat) I was shivering.

None of the kids got hurt, though one ate a minnow.  Some kids dared him, and he was about to do it when I walked up, and then he didn’t think I’d let him, but I told him it would probably be fine to eat the minnow, so he did, and, like I suspected, didn’t seem worse for wear afterwards. 

Spiritually, I think it was good for everyone.  We spent time studying the Bible and each of us leaders shared our testimonies and led at least one devotional time.  It was neat seeing certain ones attitudes improving as they were challenged by things they were learning.

The last couple days you could really tell the fellows were missing civilization.  I had a number of them start telling me things like, “I miss my bed, I miss my iPhone, I miss my TV, I miss the internet, I miss my Mom.”

I think being unplugged was good for them and they didn’t get much sympathy from me.

So that’s my quick report of “Wilderness Week”!

Teen Week Counseling Update

So I don’t have time to write an update so I’m not going to.

Except to say Week 1 of camp went by quickly, and is now over.  And true to prediction, I am now officially sleep deprived and worn out.  But, it starts all over again tomorrow!

So I didn’t use e-mail or phone this whole past week.  Now I’m back in the land of the moderns in Jeff City, but only for a few hours before heading back to booney-ville.

I think everyone was inspired to seek God more through the course of this past week.  I know I was, at least. 

The counselor business was tiring: There were ups and downs, some stressful issues, some (slight) injuries, but fortunately for me, at least a well-behaved cabin.

Tons of fun was had, most the time.  Highlights for me include the laughter and humor I shared with guys in my cabin and also seeing hearts and attitudes soften throughout the week as a result of what they were hearing and thinking about.  It was a serious week.

Satan was busy, of course, starting with a lightning strike last Sunday, hitting a tree with several staff underneath, who fortunately were ok, though one had ringing in his ears.  Splinters of the tree were thrown up to 60’ away (I measured).  The bolt knocked out the camps PA system, which was never fixed and caused scheduling annoyances as a result.  Then a main water line broke which shut off water for most of one day. 

Moreover, at times I could almost see Satan picking away the “Word of God” seeds being sown.  But, Satan try his worst, there was still plenty of good done.

So tomorrow starts a week of Wilderness Camp, which I’m scheduled to be a leader on. 

Heads up for another brief update next weekend!

Around the World in 180 Days (wrap-up post, by request)

I remember more than one night lying in bed late, in the dark, except for a dull street-lamp filtering through cracks in my venetian blinds, feeling restless.  Getting up and going for long walks: padding round and round the nearby pond at my apartment with the spraying fountain in the middle.  This was about a year and a half ago.

Twas thinking, “I’m tired of here.  Maybe I should take a trip.  A big trip.  Maybe I could make more of a difference somewhere else.  Maybe there’s a hungry kid out there on the other side of the globe whom I could give a lunch to.  A kid that, if I stayed here, wouldn’t get lunch.  Or maybe I would be changed through having my horizons stretched in a wild cross-cultural experience.  Maybe I would see reality clearer.  Maybe I would see something interesting, at least.  Maybe I would see God!  Maybe it would be good for me, or perhaps something good would come from it, anyhow.”

In any extent, I had too many greenbacks burning holes in my pocket to get excited about continuing working a job I was ambivalent towards at best, and downright weary of at worst.

One night I mustered resolve, packed my car with a sleeping bag and several cans of beans and hit the road, but got sleepy in Western Kansas and pulled over in a field to rest.  Next morning I drove back to work and reality. So much for that. 

But then I really did it! quit my job, and after warming up with a western America road trip and six weeks in the Haiti and DR, launched on a six month “vision trip” to some of the furthest flung reaches of the globe.  Now I’m back.

Was I profoundly changed?  Doubt it, but maybe.  Did I reduce my denarii in the bank?  Considerably.  Do I regret what I did?  No.  At least not yet. 

If nothing else, after poking around mother earth… she now feels cramped to me, far too small.  Airplanes have diminished her girth to survivor status.

Since getting back I’ve had a funny feeling hit me several times, especially at night before I fall asleep: a feeling of my brain being crowded with too many memories.  Like an action reel in fast forward: strange people, exotic locales, and bizarre events all race across my mind-screen…  causing an overwhelming feeling like I can’t process everything, like the recollections have no context in which to make sense, no appropriate neuron rack on which to hang their tails. 

In short: the proverbial lawnmower deck of my brain is clogged with the wet grass of incohesive experiences, to borrow the colloquialism.

So I’ve traveled.  Got to do fun things, serious things, educational things, religious things, and a few dangerous things (not too dangerous).

A few highlights:

Scuba dived in the Red Sea, snorkeled in the Caribbean, surfed in the Indian ocean, and swam off Waikiki Beach in Hawaii.  Took a horse full gallop in the Sinai, a boat full throttle down the Omo, and scary mutatos full speed through Africa. 

Pilgrimaged in the footsteps of Jesus in the Galilee, studied the Bible at the Wailing Western Wall in Jerusalem, and frequented Messianic congregations in Israel.  Climbed Saharan sand dunes in simmering heat, punched cattle in the Negev, and drank boiling tea with Bedouins in the dessert. 

Came face to face with grinding poverty in Port-au Prince, Addis Ababa, and the Kibera slums.  Rode a camel round the Giza Pyramids, a ferry through Venicean canals, and a Land Cruiser through outback bush.  Visited remote tribes in both the jungles of Papua and the savannahs of Ethiopia.  Went to the source of the Nile in the African highlands, and its mighty exit in Alexandria.

Saw raw Islam in the soaring minarets of Cairo, raw Orthodoxy in the rock-hewn churches of Lalibella, raw Judaism in the yiddish davening of Hasidim, and raw Christianity in the exuberant praise of Haitians.

Lived two months within a snipers range of the Gaza strip, visited the border region of Syria, crossed the Sinai, and traversed bandit-ridden northern Kenya.  Frequented the epicenter of world tension: the Temple Mount of Jerusalem, and spent time at the birthing place of the Egyptian revolution: the infamous Tahrir Square.  Got a haircut in Tahrir square too (thought I’d throw that in).  Arrived in Sentani, Indonesia during a time of political unrest.

Experienced the exhaustion of overnight bus rides, the stress of hitchhiking after midnight (alone), the frustration of being unable to communicate, and the isolated feelings of rolling into foreign shanty towns.

Numerous individuals and families provided me with overwhelming hospitality and I was the recipient of multiple gifts and special kindnesses.  Had my heart touched through friendships made on four continents.  Was inspired by sacrificial examples of living and giving I saw in a number of missionaries.  Got to rub shoulders with some special folks.

In the WWII history department, got to see General MacArthur’s Pacific base in Indonesia, tour the USS Arizona Monument in Pearl Harbor, and was deeply moved by the holocaust museum of Yad Vashem.

Did volunteer work in five countries.  Put in enough community service hours to no doubt earn the corresponding Boy Scout merit badge.

Speaking of which, what about that lunch for the hungry kid on the other side of the globe I’d thought about giving before I left?  Well, here and there I was able to give some kids lunch, and even a few adults.  It wasn’t much, but something… Some I talked with, others prayed with, some were preached to, others just got food, and a few received a Bible besides.  So a soul or two out in this wide world went less hungry, at least for a day, because I left home, and perhaps a few got spiritual food as well.

In travelling over 40,000 miles, the globe was circumnavigated on everything from the back of a bicycle to the back of a transport truck. 

On Top of Truck in Kenya

I purchased 18 one-way airline tickets which totaled 30 legs of flights.  Total cost for said tickets (including the trip to Haiti/DR last summer) was $3,250.  That doesn’t seem too bad…  got a few good deals from credit card promotions and always hunted for bottom basement carriers when bought any ticket outright.  Hence the extravagant number of layovers and flying inconvenient hours sleeping in airports.

So how much did the whole trip cost?  I don’t know, didn’t keep track.

But I did touch ground in 12 countries, which is a nice number, but with all that somehow escaped falling in love with any cute foreigner girl, of whom I met several.

Trendy stats aside, what have I learned?

That, my friend, will have to wait for another post. Mainly because I’m not yet sure what I’ve learned.

But first, time to head off for quality time staffing at Turkey Hill Ranch Bible camp in Missouri!  Sleepless nights, here I come… 

(note my Blogging may wane as internet at camp is more sketchy than in remote southeast Asia)

I Feel Welcomed Back!

Tomorrow I get back to Wichita once again, yippee! 

Already I’m feeling quite welcome.  Spent a week with Luke and Sarah out West, and they treated me royally – we had a great time (at least I did!)

Then a short visit to Seth & family here in Texas which has also been good reconnecting. 

My six year old niece Kailee especially has been pulling on my heart strings.  She was quite disappointed I couldn’t stay longer, and cried for a good while tonight over that sad fact. 

After her cry, she wrote me a note which she then came in and put on my pillow.  It read, “I’ll miss you uncle nicky” and drawn around were large hearts colored in red.  Then at the bottom she wrote, “Nick and Kailee alwis togethr forevr.” 

I went in her room and thanked her, and she elaborated that although we couldn’t be together in person forever, yet we could be together in our hearts forever, which I agreed, and promised also to write her better in the future, which she seemed glad of, and reminded me I had only written her one postcard since last time, over six months ago.  Yikes!

Yes, traveling the world is good.  But having family and friends back home that think you’re ok and fuss over you a little is also good.

In other news… Amtrak

Amtrak Train

Don’t know if I’ll ever get around to a full “American Train Report,” but suffice it to say I did spend 28 hours riding one from Los Angeles to Albany, Oregon (supposed to be 27 hours, but they got behind an hour along the way).

Here is a 1 minute clip of scenery I took out the observation car windows:

Of all the forms of transportation I’ve ever travelled, which are many and sundry, this was by far the most comfortable, though perhaps the slowest. 

The seats were spacious, reclined, and even had foot rests which kicked up lazy-boy style.  There were even 110V outlets for charging laptops, cell phones, whatever (and of course cell phones worked because we were on land versus the air).  In contrast to flying, security with Amtrak was conveniently zero, just walk on. 

I rode coach on my Amtrak ride.  My ticket was $160… versus $140 for Greyhound or $120 for an airplane flight.  Yes, flying would have been cheaper, but sans the experience.

To ride sleeper-class would have cost another $850, which seemed steep to me, but did include free meals and wi-fi. 

So I finally had my last flight in this big adventure: another red-eye affair from Portland to Dallas – left 1:00am and arrived 6:30am.  The timing was inconvenient, there was zero leg room enroute, nor any in-flight snacks or beverages, plus I was given no choice of seat location and my tray had advertisements, not to mention while on the ramp we sweltered because they kept the air conditioning off, but hey, it was cheap: $75! You too can get such discounts by flying the ultra low-cost carrier Spirit.

That flight marks the 30th one I’ve taken in my trek ‘round the world.  *whew* 

I guess if I’ve learned anything at all travelling, I’ve learned it’s true what Grandpa Belcher always says: “Wherever you are, there you are.” 

And here I am, nearly back home!

A Connecticut Yankee in King Aloha’s Court

From Tokyo to Honolulu was a red-eye flight.  Only slept about an hour that night.

The weirdest thing happened… I left Japan on Wednesday night and arrived in Hawaii on Wednesday morning!  Therefore, I was able to do what few people have ever done: live through a day twice.  My lifetime has been extended a day.  The only other person I’ve known who did this was Tom Sawyer when he went around the world in a hot air balloon.

The sunrise from my window seat was spectacular:

Inflight Sunrise

It feels good to be back in the US.  Even flying on an American airline was a pleasant twist.  Having a captain come over the intercom with a strong American voice and wide Texan accent was reassuring: “Wuall Ladies and Gents, welcome to Delta airlines, looks like today we have a strong tail wind and will be arriving 15-20 minutes ‘head of schedule… now I don’t guess anyone will be complain’n about that,”  (brother, you’d be surprised) “…so sit back and enjoy the ride.” 

When flying foreign airlines I’m used to hearing timorous mumbling from the Captains, if anything.

My whole life I’ve wanted to visit Hawaii, now I have. What larks!

Was in Hawaii 6 days, 5 nights.  Rented a bicycle, so that was my modus transportation.  Biked around 80 miles total.

Stayed pretty busy (unlike Tokyo).  Really wanted to go snorkeling, so did.  They were renting snorkeling equipment down on the beach for $20/day.  Seemed steep, so after hunting around I found a mask and snorkel set for $12 and so bought my own.

Hanauma Bay is especially known for its excellent snorkeling so I of course went there.  In order to beat the crowds I got up at 6am one day and biked to the Bay (about 12 miles).  The snorkeling was pretty good, but it was windy which made the water turbid, visibility only about 20 feet.  The fish were brilliant, but the coral didn’t look in the best shape.

Snorkeling aside, I thought Hanauma Bay itself was especially amazingly pretty, and enjoyed sitting on the hill watching the clear blue breakers roll in below:

Beach

Another day I biked to Pearl Harbor (a looong bike ride).  In the picture below I’m standing on the USS Bowfin submarine and you can see the USS Arizona Memorial and Battleship Missouri behind me across the harbor.  Can’t believe I actually got to visit this place, I’ve always wanted to come to Pearl Harbor…!

Nick

Visiting Pearl Harbor is sobering.  It seemed a fittingly appropriate site for me to be confronted with upon re-entering America – seeing the final resting place of 900+ seaman entombed in the Arizona is a strong reminder of the ultimate sacrifice many have given for this country’s freedom and prosperity, which I glibly enjoy the benefits of.

America has its faults, and as a Christian my primary allegiance is to God’s Kingdom, but I have to say that (at least in my opinion) America is the best place going.

While I was visiting the Harbor, a local high school band came and put on a concert in the park-like area by the outdoor memorials and restaurant.  A number of tourists stopped for a minute to listen and then would move on, but right form the beginning I sat down and listened through their whole show. 

It was quite moving to me.  Besides the patriotic music, it just seemed classic Americana what with the kids doing normal American kid activities and parents watching on, supporting their sons and daughters by clapping enthusiastically after every number, even if there were a few sour notes.

Band Playing

To get in the mood, below is a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner given by the combined Military Academies choirs:

[audio:http://simplefollower.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/06/national_anthem.mp3]

Something I didn’t know is that when survivors of the USS Arizona die, they can be buried in the Arizona with their shipmates if they request so.  The most recent internment was 2011 – there are still 13 survivors alive.

But back to Hawaii, it was a mixed bag as far as “feeling” like America.  It sure was touristy.  But then, on the other hand, little things would remind me of home.  Like the smell of water in the air from lawn sprinklers.  That smell is distinctively American, as most people in other countries can’t afford to waste perfectly good water by pouring it out on their grass. 

Boy and Sprinklers

Besides all the tourists, the tropical beaches seemed out of place for America.  But I suppose that’s because I’m from Kansas.  If I were from Southern Florida it might seem normal.

Speaking of the beaches and ocean, I couldn’t believe how blue the water was!  I took the following picture from on top Diamondhead Crater that I hiked up one day.  Isn’t that water the most azure you’ve ever seen?

Lighthouse

So on Sunday I went to church at a local Brethren Assembly: Waialae-Kahala Chapel.  That was a good time of getting recharged and meeting local believers.  A young couple there invited me over for supper which was great, that evening they picked me up at my hostel and drove me to their house. Besides the fellowship, the food was great: a chicken dish with fried onions on top, and pumpkin haupia cake for dessert (local Hawaiian)– oh, also raw tuna, which was a new one. 

We had a grande olde time time swapping tales, and they even volunteered to bring me to the airport the next morning, which was amazingly nice.

Speaking of church, did I mention last week I attended an International one in Jakarta?  Yep.  It was a very old church (Gereja Immanuel) from the Dutch colonial days.  They had an English service.

Here is a picture of the building in 1875, followed by one I took from the same location in 2012:

Gereja_Immanuel_1875Church

I found this Jakartan church to be mostly dead, even though it did have a booming pipe organ.  But I know it’s not good to base ones opinions of a church on only one visit, so I’ll withhold further opinions. 

So that’s the quick update on Hawaii from this end. 

I’m writing this whilst sitting in the Los Angeles airport where I’m spending the night, and it’s kinda boring.  4am right now…

In a few hours I take a bus over to the LA Union Station where I then catch a 27-hour Amtrak train up to Albany, Oregon.  That should be interesting.

The Shocking Semantics of Culture Shock

So the powers that be, whoever they are, have determined Culture Shock has four stages. 

However, I’m not convinced Culture Shock has only four stages, just as I’m not convinced public speeches have only three parts (introduction, body, and conclusion).

I’ve heard speeches before that were all body; I’ve heard speeches that were all conclusion; and I’ve heard speeches that were all introduction.  I’ve also heard speeches that weren’t much of anything, and wondered why I was wasting my time listening to them.

In my opinion: reality defies description.  And life is messy.  Yet this doesn’t stop the powers that be from putting Speeches and Culture Shock into tidy boxes.

When I say the words “culture shock,” I’m referring to that mouth-opening, jaw dropping, deer in the headlights SHOCK one experiences upon seeing certain foreign practices (like electronic toilets, suited people picking up trash with salad tongs, or men in gourds wielding bows and arrows). 

My version of of culture shock has only one stage: shock.

The four scientific stages of “culture shock” seem to rather describe four stages of “cultural adjustment.”  Concisely, they are:

  1. Excitement / Holiday / Honeymoon (0-3 months)
  2. Withdrawal / Negotiation / Anxiety (3-6 months)
  3. Adjustment / Confidence / Feeling “normal” (6-12 months)
  4. Mastery / Enthusiasm / Comfort (12 months+)

I love how the stages even come with precise monthly timelines.  Shucks, I’ve gone through all four of those stages before in a New York minute.

Take, for instance, the time I saw a group of Hippos down by a lakeside in Kenya:

  1. First, I felt Excitement at viewing such monstrous animals sooo close!  It felt like I was on a Holiday, perhaps even a Honeymoon (except I was by myself, so not really).
  2. Then, in my Excitement to get even closer, I accidentally touched a high-voltage electric fence separating me from said hippos, which resulted in Withdrawal, Negotiation, and dare I say? Anxiety
  3. Next, I Adjusted to the situation, standing back from the fence, and after some time even began snapping photos with Confidence, and several minutes later, when the tingling died down in my leg, started feeling Normal again.
  4. Finally, having Mastered the situation, I turned my back on the lumbering mammals and with a satisfied chortle, muttered under my breath, “Veni, vidi, vici,” as I returned to the Comfort of my lodgings.

So, in a nutshell, that’s the shocking version of Culture Shock.

On a serious note, when it comes down to it, Culture Shock is simply dealing with differences – first noticing differences, then reacting to them in some manner.

The reaction may be naively happy (stage 1), overboardily grumpily (stage 2), with toleration (stage 3), or cheerfulness (stage 4). Other reactions include yelling, belligerence, and manic-depression, to name a few.

Now, regarding re-entry shock I’ll refrain on commenting as I’m still re-entering, and haven’t been away from home long (only 6 months) so am predicting a mild case, if anything. 

One of the first observations I did make upon arriving in the USA was how I could now understand ambient conversations again.  This was surprising as I’m used to only hearing gibberish from strangers. 

The first time I noticed this was while heading towards the immigration check-in counter at the Honolulu airport.  The man behind me was grumbling about how slow the moving sidewalks were: “They just built this wing of the airport, you’d think they could have made the sidewalks a little faster! it’s like half a mile we have to go here and good gracious, we have elderly folks, they can’t stand up forever!” 

Sorry buddy, it’s only survival of the fittest in Hawaii.  Those who can’t stand longer than the two minutes required to reach immigration are gonna get left behind, turns out the only law they follow here is the law of the jungle.

Honestly, I’m thinking to myself, “Only in America do we complain about the speed of the moving sidewalks.”

I Thought I’d Seen it All, Until I Saw Japan

First: Language…

Most the signs in Japan are not in English.  And their script is scary-looking.  See for yourself, here is the title of this post in Japanese:

私は日本を見るまで私は、私はそれをすべて見たと思った

And the people don’t speak English either, hardly a one.  Even at the airport, nobody can barely say a word of English! even the customs guy… 

Most places I’ve been in the world I’ve noticed a pervasive element of trying to copy things in the West.  But I don’t detect that here in Japan, it seems like they’re doing their own thing, setting their own trends, and have no need for English or Western technology.

Second: Serious Garbage-a-phobia..

I only visited Tokyo, but I was blown away at the cleanliness!  I used to pride myself on being a citizen of the cleanest nation, but America now takes a distant second place to Japan (at least downtown Tokyo).  Yet personally, I’m still going to stick up for America because I say we have just the right amount of dirty, it proves we’re “real” and not trying to hide anything.  What you see is what you get.  Going to Tokyo is like visiting someone’s house where everything is so spotless, immaculate, and perfect you think to yourself, “Is this for real! do they live here??” 

Where else can you find trash picker-upper people cleaning the sidewalks dressed in slacks and a collared shirt, searching in vain for an odd candy wrapper to delicately remove with a pair of salad tongs?? 

I kid you not, the first time I saw these guys picking up the non-existent litter, I did a complete double take, stopped walking in mid-step in literal astonishment, my mouth wide open.  Just stared and gawked, I couldn’t believe it.

Here are a few pictures I took:

Trash Picker Upper

Another Trash Picker Upper Person

Another thing I don’t get is how people walk around here with a dust mask on (not everyone, but some).  It looks silly.  And there is no smog here, that I can tell.  Of all the cities I’ve visited, in my opinion this is one of the least necessary cities to be wearing a dust mask!

Wearing Dust Mask

Thirdly: Non-Hazardous Sidewalks and Street Crossings

Imagine my surprise upon seeing (and walking upon) sidewalks like this one:

Tokyo Sidewalk

After wandering around in developing countries, I’d gotten used to the hazards associated with walking down the “sidewalk.”

For instance, here is the main thoroughfare in Sentani, Papua, which, by Indonesian standards is a fairly decent sidewalk:

Sentani Sidewalk

When walking on sidewalks like those above, you have to always be looking down to make sure you don’t fall into sewage or trip on a rock.

Fourthly: Complexity…

I like to think of myself as being capable of navigating the ropes of modern civilization without inordinate confusion.  But not in Tokyo.  Things here are much more intricate than anything I’ve ever been exposed to.

The subway system, for instance.  I’ve taken subways and trains in several major cities without too much trouble (buying the ticket often the hardest part).  But in Tokyo, figuring how to get from point A to point B using the subway system requires a guy to be a veritable rocket scientist!  Check out this subway routing guide:

Subway Routes

Compare to the Cairo subway routing guide below, which was hard enough:

example

Fifthly: Totally Techy Tokyo Toilets

Things are SO complex here that in order to just figure out how to use the TOILET, you practically have to be a brain surgeon.

I kid you not, look at how many buttons and controls were on this toilet in my low-end hostel:

Toilet Controls

American toilets have one lever.  Israeli toilets have two.  But the Japanese toilet is a high-end, complex, cutting edge electronics gizmo.  With all the training plumbers must need, I bet they get paid well.

Another surprising feature my toilet had was a sink on top (which was awkward to get ones hands under):

Tokyo Bathroom Sink

Who’d have thunk about putting a sink on TOP the toilet?

And here I thought the sink I once used in Kenya (below) worked just fine.  The on/off handle was a valve teed off a water pipe and the drainage went to a bucket underneath.

Sink in Kenya Hotel

My Japanese toilet was so complex, I had to Google a “how-to” guide just to figure it out.  This article was helpful, here are some revealing excerpts:

Most toilets in Japan are electronic appliances with a range of features for comfort and cleanliness. At the high end, these toilets have dozens of functions, configuration options and buttons…

Electronic Japanese toilets range in price and features. The most common features are deodorizers, noise makers (for privacy) and heated seat (often on a timer). [A timer!? they have set times for going??]

[Regarding another feature, the disturbing “bidget”]:

The electronic bidet may have a wide range of controls for water pressure, temperature, pulsing modes, etc. However, to operate it you just need to stop and start it.

My gosh! deodorizes, noise makers, heated seats, bidgets! what direction is the human race going?  Where will this all end?  The complete sissifying of the human race, that’s where it will end.

From having just come out of the jungle with a stone-age tribe who didn’t even have toilets, much less heated ones, the contrast is mind boggling.  (where the jungle folk DO use the bathroom is a mystery, but presumably in the jungle somewhere) 

Sixthly: Exorbitant Cost…

In Tokyo I’m having sticker shock.  Like massive sticker shock – so bad I reverted to cooking up ramen noodles in the hostel kitchen rather than eat out. 

I’m not alone in my opinion, this LA Times article from two days ago reports Tokyo is the most expensive city in the world for expatriates to live (with New York City #33 on the list, if that gives some perspective).

Examples:

  1. Chocolate Sundaes from McDonalds cost $2 (compared to 40 cents in Indonesia).
  2. Eating out nearly anywhere sets you back at least $10.
  3. $8.50 for one issue of a “Time” magazine.
  4. Lodging: I stayed at one of the cheapest hostels in Tokyo, sharing a room with 8 bunks, and it cost $35/night, the most expensive of any hostel I’ve ever stayed at.  In comparison, Israeli hostels were usually $15-20/night, Egypt $4-$10/night, and even Honolulu, where I’m staying next, is only $23/night.

Other Observations

1) Guess I’m experiencing a little culture shock.  Which is to say I’m noticing cultural differences.  Isn’t that what culture shock is?  Becoming aware of little cultural differences that before were such common place occurrences they escaped notice?

2) It doesn’t seem like there is much to do in Tokyo.  I’m kinda bored.  Good thing I’m only staying a couple days.  There are lots of museums, but none of them sound interesting.  The one closest to my hostel is “The Bag and Luggage Museum,” which nearly puts me to sleep just thinking about.

The only touristy place that sounded really cool was the Hama Rikyu Botanical Gardens located downtown.  I like gardens so went, and with high hopes of spectacularity, I might add. 

Unfortunately, it was a misnomer.  Something was lost in translation: it was merely a park, not a garden.  A nice enough park, but precious few flowers, just trees and manicured lawn.  Comparable to Riverside in Wichita. 

Park in Tokyo

One cool thing the park did have was a genuine mountain.  Yep, Mt. Shinhinokuchi is located WITHIN the park.  Behold! Mount Shinhinokuchi:

Mt. Shinhinokuchi

Perhaps something else was lost in translation on the signage?  Looked to me more like a grassy knoll than a mountain. 

3) For one meal, I wanted to eat authentic Japanese food.  Who wouldn’t?  To this end I asked a local worker at my hostel what she would recommend?  Her answer was a resounding, “Takoyaki!”  That is, fried octopus tentacles.  So, I tried them.  Even ate all eight of my tentacles. They tasted better than I was expecting, but were chewier than I liked.

4) Surprising to me is how reserved and “keep-to-themselves” the Japanese people seem, at least in public.  For instance, on the subway nobody hardly ever says a word to each other or even appears to acknowledge each others presence.

On the flip side, this also means nobody is “hawking wares” or bothering me.  To wit, they taciturnly ignore me.  To the point of ridiculousness, I might add. 

During my travels I’ve kinda trained myself to pretend I know where I’m going even if I don’t, because in many places showing the slightest hesitation is the equivalent of blood for piranhas: resulting in being pounced upon by some opportunistic entrepreneur offering to help (for a trifling fee). 

Here in Tokyo, I’ve pulled out my map in public and studied it and people walked on by, not giving me any notice.  So then I decided to play it up and see what would happen.  I tried looking really confused (not hard) and walked around in circles on the sidewalk, squinting over at street signs and staring hard at my map in complete befuddlement.  All to no avail, Japanese locals kept walking by as if I were the invisible man, giving me no more attention than a passing breeze.  Incredible, I couldn’t get any reaction.

6) On the flip side, when I’ve actually bought something, the politeness is a little over the top.  Purchased a bottle of water at a gas station the other day and the diminutive checkout man began jabbering away at me in what appeared to be a rapture of delight while putting his hands together in front of himself and repeatedly bowing in respect.  I felt honored.

The End

ps I’m finishing this post up here in Hawaii, where I am now.  So the content is a little dated, but better late than never… 

Next: Nick’s Aloha Report from Honolulu (Summer Edition)

Jakarta Ho! A Somewhat Sagacious Soliloquy.

I’m currently in the capital of Indonesia.  It feels oh-so Asian.  And fairly Muslim too, though I don’t find the locals here as intimidating as their compatriots in the Middle East.

With over 10 million citizens, Jakarta is populous.  But Indonesia itself is populous: the 4th most country in the world (behind China, India, and the US, and only a fraction of the size of those three countries). 

I think they call Indonesia the “sleeping giant,” and I believe it: walking around here I’ve seen quite a number of people sleeping on the sidewalks.  One sleeping guy was sprawled across three motorbike seats!  Now that’s sleeping class.

Speaking of motorbikes, they’re everywhere.  Hundreds of them.  Thousands of them.  From what I’ve seen, it’s the same throughout Indonesia.  And from what I’ve heard, it’s the same throughout Asia.  Someone is getting rich off selling motorbikes.  Probably someone in China. 

Jakarta is nicer and cleaner than I was expecting.  It’s also quite Western in many ways.  You can even find sundry Western restaurants.  Such as McDonalds.  Another positive thing is that food here is cheap.  For instance, my supper last night was $6, but for that moolah I bought a lot: French Fries, a Big Mac, a Coke, a Chocolate Sundae, a Domino’s Pizza, and a Sprite.  (my pizza was topped with diced hotdogs which may help explain why it was so cheap.)

The McDonalds was 3 stories tall and packed to the gills with people.  I could only find a seat downstairs, outside, in the heat, amongst the smokers.  (there was a seat open inside by the bathrooms, but it stunk there something royal so after enduring about 30 seconds I moved down with the smokers to gulp in secondhand tobacco along with my Big Mac.)

Another odd thing about my McDonalds experience was being the only non-Indonesian in the restaurant.  Being a minority feels weird.

In fact, being a minority is one thing, but many places I’ve visited around the world (including Jakarta) I’m not just a minority, I’m an oddity!  It’s a little unsettling to be gawked at like an orangutan in a zoo.  Sometimes people even want my picture.  Like today, this random girl wanted her picture taken with me, which I consented (she was cute enough), but the odd thing was she was obviously Muslim, covered from head to toe in nineteen yards of fabric, with only her face showing… I wouldn’t have thought someone so modest would be forward to the point of trying to get her picture taken with a complete stranger.  But she did, and then I got my picture taken with her entire extended family (who were also there) and with her extended Jakarta clan (who were also there). Someday in the far future her great-grandkids will be flipping through photo albums and be like, “So who’s the white guy?”

In other news, I have roommates here in my hostel.  One of whom is a long-haired Russian about my age with a prodigious number of tattoos.  Another is an Indian (from India) and lastly, an Indonesian from some remote island. 

So the Russian and I talked last night.  I asked him what he thought about Putin, and he told me he thought Putin was a blankety piece of blank, but despite that, was great for the people, and he supported him.  Along the lines of politics, he also told me he once lived in Portland, Oregon, and his biggest observation from there was how he got weary of hearing so much anti-Bush sentiment.  And he assured me he hated Bush as much as the next person, it was just that after awhile it was like listening to a broken record. 

So today I visited the Monas, a massive monument to the independence of Indonesia.  It looks kind of like a gigantically anemic ice cream cone stuffed in the ground upside down:

The Mona in Jakarta

Note from the above picture there is smog here… not much, just enough for certain locals to walk around wearing dust masks.

At the base of the monument (underneath the ground) there is a vast open room, gloomy, filled with people, and exhibits lining the walls detailing the history of Indonesia gaining its independence. 

I noticed the exhibits weren’t all complimentary of their former Dutch occupiers.  For instance, one plaque read:

The Forced Planting (1830-1870)

The people in Java were forced to grow plants which produce commodities being much in demand in Europe with a view of overcoming the financial crisis suffered by the Dutch as a result of popular up risings in Indonesia.  Subsequently, the farmer had no time to cultivate their own and the result was general famine.  On the contrary, it helped to make the Dutch prosperous and secure.

Surrounding the Monas is a spacious open park, pleasantly landscaped.  Today there were thousands of people thronged there, primarily families enjoying a nice, relaxing outing. 

Unfortunately, there is litter all over everywhere.  To combat this problem, I observed numerous sanitation folks in orange suits sweeping up and bagging garbage. 

Cleaner-up Workers at the Mona

I wondered why there was so much trash on the ground in the first place, but once I got to looking I noticed there were hardly any trash cans.  I thought to myself, “Self, if they just installed some trash cans here, they wouldn’t have to pay all these cleaner-up people to fight this losing battle.”  But then the cleaner-up people would be out of a job, so I suppose the system makes sense at some level.

I also visited the Indonesia Ethnological Museum today.  I found the Papua exhibits most interesting, and even learned more about the Kotekas (mens “gourds”).  There was a helpfully informative exhibit:

Koteka Exhibit

The museum had a bunch of old golden crowns too (some even inlaid with diamonds).  They dated back some 500 years, and one had over 4 lbs of gold!  You weren’t allowed to take pictures in the “treasures” area, so I just have to remember what they look like up in my brain.  But seeing the headpieces made me wonder what sort of people wore them?  The plaques claimed old Indonesian rulers wore them, whoever they were (probably long gone by now).  But isn’t it interesting to try to imagine what type of pomp and ceremony those mysterious crowns must have seen? 

There were also exhibits of old bones that were supposedly “missing links.”  In America I’m sure there is a rule against displaying live skeletons in a museum, and especially out in the open like they did here!

Skeleton

Well, Jakarta Ja-smartuh, soon I’ll be in Tokyo, this stint here is only a glorified layover.  And my stint in Tokyo will be short too…

The bad thing about being somewhere briefly is everything is a “first,” which means there is a steep and frustrating learning curve for getting around and finding places.  For instance, now that I know where the bus station is and how to find the Monas (and McDonalds), it’s already time to leave!

I’ll end this post with a trivia question:  Can you guess what the sign below is instructing the reader NOT to do?  (it’s a sign from inside the airport)  

Airport Sign

Sorry this update wasn’t more spiritually uplifting… maybe it at least made you smile, and the Bible does say, “A cheerful heart brings a smile to your face; a sad heart makes it hard to get through the day.”  (Proverbs 15:13, the Message)

Luxury

I’m back in Sentani.  Good ol’ civilization.  Even if it’s third world civilization.  Even if it’s “wild west” civilization. 

Dave, who picked us up at the airport, told about how he got stuck in the middle of a local demonstration yesterday in Sentani, including having a guy in front of his vehicle wave a pistol around and shoot a few rounds off over his car roof!  Wow, pretty intense.  After dodging down a side street to safety, he holed up for awhile where he could hear military and demonstrators duking it out – he estimated a couple hundred rounds were fired.  With all that shooting, fortunately only two people were killed. 

Demonstrations like that don’t happen real often, and since one just happened it should be awhile before another happens.  At least, that’s my theory. I think what the ruckus is over is Papua wanting its independence.

So let’s see, besides all that excitement, which I missed, I’ve spent the afternoon and evening of today enjoying the finer points of luxurious civilization.  Such as…

A hot shower.  That is, for a good two minutes, before the heat gave up the ghost and the water turned cold again. 

Unlimited electricity, it even stayed on all day! they tell me it’s been spotty here of late (and since it’s always spotty, that must mean it’s been really spotty).

For supper I had a “western meal” of a chicken burger with avocado juice.  Delectable, even if the avocado juice wasn’t “western.”

Drove in a car again, now that I’m back in the land of such novelties as “streets” and “stores.”  Though not in the land of “traffic rules.”  That is, the only rule is: “There are no rules.” 

For expediency, my driver drove on the wrong side of the road for about a hundred yards, into oncoming traffic.  We survived.

Such luxury am I now enjoying that, unbelievably, I even have air conditioning in my bedroom!  And my room is even rat-free, I think (though definitely not ant-free). 

Being chilled again is such a delicious feeling.  Until I had to go back outside and was shocked by the heat and skeeters, which, hitherto, (before ten blessed minutes of air conditioning) I had been used to.

Drank deep from a can of Coca-Cola.  Ahh, wonderful Coca-Cola!  Used to never like the stuff, but since weaned off Dr. Pepper (it’s been like 6 months since I’ve had a DP – may its carbonated soul rest in peace) I’ve turned to Coke to fill the void.  But, I’ll say, it’s like the replacing of a favorite dog which has died with a new dog: though there is now a soft spot in my heart for the new dog (Coke), there will always be a deeper soft spot in my heart for the old dog (Dr. Pepper).

As you can see, I’m drinking deep of luxury.  Even having the time to write this silly blog post is a luxury.

The conveniences we take for granted back in the States are, for most people in the world, over-the-top luxuries.  Even the air conditioning I’m enjoying right now would be pretty rare for the average person here in Sentani, but I’m in a missions guesthouse, which has its perks (and this is a mission known, rightly so, for it’s frugality).

Being with the Moi reminded me how dispensable the veneer of civilization really is.  I didn’t know it was possible to live without a supermarket down the street until I spent time in cultures with open air markets instead of supermarkets.  But the Moi take this to an entirely new level by eating only fruit and vegetables picked from the jungle or out of their gardens, supplemented by the odd rat, snake, or frog (and occasional chicken or pig).  Nary a plastic wrapper or rusty tin can to be seen.

That such disparity in living habits could exist on the same globe boggles my imagination.

For two off-beat examples, nowhere in my travelling have I seen the equivalent of a “drive-through” restaurant, or an automatic garage door opener. Those are distinctly American novelties. 

In Bali, I saw a few gated beach resorts, but even those gates were not automatic, but manual.  A bored guard holding a long rope operated them by hand.

And to think of all the things I consider a “need” (like a digital camera, a laptop, the internet, a car, several pairs of clothes, etc) … when in fact it’s quite possible for me to survive without even a shred of it!

Observing other cultures invariably leads to making fun of other cultures: “The way they do this or that is dumb!”  But, after awhile, you start evaluating your own culture a little more objectively too, and say, “Ya know, the way we do this or that back home is kinda strange as well.”

For example, “Why does everyone live so spread out and alone, by themselves, in the States?”  Good or bad, it’s not how most people in the world do it.  Even in the Moi, I saw a one-room hut that was a “bachelor pad” housing some five guys.  All in about the size of the living room of my old apartment, which by American standards was considered too small for even two people (I mean the entire apartment, not just the living room!).

The other day I heard someone say, “People think it’s expensive to live in America, but that’s not true.  What IS true is that it’s expensive to live like an American.”  I would agree.  As a case in point, I often see Westerners overseas living at standards below what would be considered average by American standards, but still far higher than nearly any local could ever afford.

The gap between what is required to keep a human being alive and the way many people live (particularly in the West) is a gulf so wide it defies my cognitive abilities to grasp.

And I’m not trying to be accusing of others here, I myself own two vehicles, two boats, a storage unit filled with boxed stuff, furniture loaned out to relatives, and a backpack full of products that alone probably holds more value than what nearly any single person in Ethiopia has to their name.

This morning on the flight out of Moi-land I read through 1 Timothy and was struck by where Paul said,

“But godliness with contentment is great gain.  For we brought nothing into the world, and we can take nothing out of it.  But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.”  (1 Timothy 6:6-8)

Physically, when it comes down to it, all we need is food and clothing.  Everything else is extra.  And if you ask a Moi, they’ll say you don’t need much clothing, just a gourd and piece of string will do. Or for the women, a grass skirt.

I think for us in the West there is often a temptation to chase after extra, non-essential physical things in life to the detriment of working on other legitimate human needs, like those on the emotional or spiritual fronts.

In closing, I ask myself, “Am I sad to have left the Moi tribe?” The answer is: yes. But I think who I’ll miss the most are the Brown family. Especially the three young kids (8, 10, and 12 years old) – we had a lot of fun together over the last six weeks! Just this morning, before I left, we fit in a few last games of “modified-UNO” and a “crazy trampoline photo-shoot.”

As I was getting on the plane in the sticky heat, I stopped to pause and take one last look around, and would you know it but a bumble-bee bit my leg!! I kid you not, it stung like crazy. Luckily, Steve Crockett was there, and since he’s related to Davy Crockett, I let him dig the stinger out. Then I got in the plane before another bee could bite me.

Clashing Civilizations

Often my most creative writing thoughts come at an inopportune time for recording said thoughts.  One such time is just before drifting to sleep.  Like now, but this time I gave in, got out of bed, and pulled out ye old laptop to jot down a few sundry thoughts.  I’m not sleepy anyways.

I’m still in Moi-land: a veritable rainforest if ever there was one.  Laying in bed underneath a mosquito net listening to the interminable rain drumming away on a tin roof above.  Think it’s rained every day since being here: usually starting in the evening or at night.  Then each morning wakes bright, sunny, and fresh (and blazing hot).

It’s so hot here, in fact, that sometimes I sweat prodigious quantities.  Like this past Tuesday when I went on a “picnic” down to the river with five other Moi guys (none of whom spoke more than 3 words of English, and one of whom, incidentally, killed another guy once). 

From the time I left the house to go on the “picnic,” until I returned, was seven hours.  Here’s a picture of my sweaty self after the first hour of hiking.  I don’t think I’ve ever been so sweaty before, but out in the rainforest there is simply no wind to evaporate the moisture:

Sweaty after Hike

Notice the flash had to be used, even though this photo was taken midmorning on a bright sunny day?  That’s because the jungle was so dense the light was murky.  I used sign language to instruct my obliging photographer to hold the button on the camera down until the “lightning” erupted.

To me, the hike down to the river (and back up) was grueling, even though it wasn’t a long hike, only about an hour each way.  Recently I re-read the incredible book, You’ll Die in Singapore, where the author, a WWII POW escapee, hiked for months through this same type of jungle while at the same time evading Japaneese patrols, fighting malaria, and living off local roots.  I can’t even imagine!

So the Moi guys cut out a walking stick for me shortly after we started.  This helped considerably as I attempted to keep up with them on the treacherously slick and steep terrain.  The trail varied between a 45 degree muddy angle and a 80 degree muddy angle.

Later, upon returning alive, I was given a compliment (through a translator) that they considered me a strong hiker and were impressed at how I kept up.  This cheered me some, until I was also told Supiah can get down to the river in fifteen minutes flat, four times speedier than we slowpoked it!  So my “fast” and “strong” rating was relative, and on the generous side.  They also said I was at a disadvantage in wearing shoes, unlike them, who go barefoot.

Some of the scenery enroute was stunning (if one could get enough sweat out of the eyes and enough air in the lungs to enjoy it):

Waterfall

Down at the rushing and frigid mountain river we spent a luxurious several hours splashing, swimming, jumping in, cooking food, eating food, and getting cooked by the sun and eaten by leaches.  It was a grand time.

The latter experience (the leaches one) was new for me.  With trepidation I pointed out my first leach to a nearby native colleague.  Unconcernedly, he reached down, picked up a sharp rock from the beach, and scraped the offending member from my leg, leaving a bleeding hole where the slurping head had been moments before.  Thanks, bro, for passing on that timely stone-age technique which, to this point, had hitherto been lost from my modern basemap of knowledge. 

Another serendipitous experience was watching the killing of several smallish bats (8-10” wingspread).  One Moi snuck under an overhang where he expected some of the dozing creatures might be lurking, whilst two others stood outside with sticks at the ready.  Sure enough: here come the bats, and *whap* went the sticks.  They got two, which were later roasted in the fire, and (to my wondering eyes) popped in the mouth whole (sans the wings) straight from the coals, the delicacy munched on with little fanfare, but much gusto. 

They could probably win on the “Fear Factor” show.  Though the chicken and rice grub they rustled up for lunch was far more appetizing than the bats, and indeed, an impressive concoction, considering it was made over an open fire. 

Chicken and Rice

The Cathay Pacific cutlery in the photo above is my own, compliments of an airline flight.  I was pretty sure they would just throw away that spoon, so discretely tucked it away into my carry-on.  It’s heavy duty plastic and I deemed it wasteful to dispose of after only one use.  I also saved a spare biscuit and butter pad, but later the butter pad squashed open and the biscuit crumbled to bits, and after mixing with the butter, created a sticky, messy meringue inside my pack. 

Wednesday evening after the hike I was totally shot, and retired to bed early.  Alas, no sleep for me, but a feverish night of tossing and turning instead… the incessant sound of rain smacking tin making my head feel like nails being hammered through the skull.  Or something like that.

The next day I could hardly drag myself from bed, feeling a sense of malaise in general and achy, nauseous, and interminably feverish in the particulars.  Couldn’t eat breakfast.  Couldn’t eat lunch.  It was a miserable Wednesday, but that afternoon the fever broke and I slept soundly through the next night.

Thursday I was back to normal and worked on getting a temporary solar panel system setup for the new church building – also ran around playing “ball tag” in the rain with the kids.  I noted with incredulity how my body could have such violent swings of dispositions from one day to the next.

Working on the solar panels also reminded me how, around here, you can’t do anything without an audience.  For instance, I was filling new batteries with acid, a process that took some time, but one that a host of folks seemed to find interminably interesting. 

When getting ready to open each next bottle of battery acid, everyone would stand clear several paces.  When I cut the plastic tip off the first bottle with a knife, a number of warriors jumped back even further (lest a drop land on them?).  Perhaps someone had warned them battery acid was harmful, but what about poor me who was opening the noxious things?

Here is a picture taken later in the afternoon after I got the system setup, at least in a temporary state.  Later the panels will be more permanently mounted on the roof, but at least now it’s charging the batteries through the charge controller and surge protector.  (that little boy on the left watched me for hours and told me he never got bored):

Solar Setup

The awkward gourds the men wear seem, as I mentioned before, the antithesis of clothing, yet I’m told if one ever accidentally "slips off” they become extremely embarrassed at the wardrobe malfunction and will quickly remedy the situation so as not to be seen naked long.  One more reminder how the concept of modesty is ubiquitous the world over.  Standards vary, but the concept remains.

On an unrelated philosophical note, one of the things that boggles my mind most is how small the world is for these people.  How can they know about the outside world if they can’t visit it (because flying is expensive), if they can’t read about it (because there are no books in their language), if they can’t see it (because there are no TVs), and they can’t understand when people tell them (because they have no basis for relating)? 

It seems to me such a slow paced life as theirs would be insanely boring: they have no books to read, no world news to gossip about, no TV to watch, no internet to surf, no boats to sail, no Facebook to check, and no vehicular transportation because there are exactly zero roads.  Not even any stores or restaurants.  In short, no external stimuli.  Therefore, watching me pour acid in batteries becomes the local afternoon matinee.

In my opinion, these people are bored stiff, but don’t yet know they are.

Moving on… Friday (today) we were provided with the excitement of a plane landing, bringing back the second missionary family who live here, along with a special visitor for the weekend: Mark, missions pastor from Shadow Mountain Community Church in San Diego (where David Jeremiah is Sr. Pastor). 

Oftentimes in my travels I’ve wished I could record certain conversations.  Those would include ones we had today with Mark.  Having been a missionary himself for 20+ years in Pakistan, and having travelled extensively around the globe (including Africa and South America, but particularly the Middle East) Mark has a fair number of stories himself.  Topics ranged the gamut of cross cultural comparisons between animistic spiritism, religious fanaticism, eastern Hinduism, and American materialism. 

This entire trip has been one big eye-opening cross-cultural experience for me.  Each new location providing fodder for a new angle of thought.  Take being here with the Moi for example: When else would I ever have the luxury of devoting three weeks time to mull over the sticky business of culture clashes between modern and stone-age civilizations (like the Moi)?  Yet here I am, doing just that: reading books on the subject and observing the effects firsthand.  The Moi are an extreme exception in the world today: they were completely isolated from all outside influence until just several years ago, one of the last people groups in the world to be untouched so late in history.

My reading this past week has been on Captain Cook and his voyages through the Pacific, learning about his explorations and how he interacted with the natives, often being their “first contact” with Europeans.

The following excerpt shows how Cook realized, even in his own time, some of the negative influences Europeans were creating among Polynesians:

Returning to New Zealand in 1773, and again in 1777, Cook found the Maori prone to thievery, deploying Western hatchets as weapons rather than tools, afflicted with venereal disease, and eager to prostitute their wives and daughters in exchange for spike nails.

“Such are the concequences of a commerce with Europeans,” Cook wrote, in one of the most despairing passages he ever penned. “We debauch their Morals already too prone to vice and we interduce among them wants and perhaps diseases which they never before knew and which serves only to disturb that happy tranquility they and their fore Fathers had injoy’d. If any one  denies the truth of this assertion let him tell me what the Natives of the whole extent of America have gained by the commerce they have had with Europeans.” (Horwitz, 136)

Were the natives really living in “happy tranquility” before Cook arrived?  Hard to say, but I have my own local context with the Moi to bounce this idea off of.  There are about 1,000 Moi spread across a couple hundred miles of jungle, many whom have yet to see a white man.  Rich said there are even Moi within a one days hike who have never bothered to come see the “white strangers,” which is really unfathomable as a one day hike is no big deal for them.

The mortality rate among Moi is about 80%: roughly 4 in 5 dying before the age of one.  Fortunately, that number is improving with the introduction of modern medicines.  But even still, I’m told an anecdotal life expectancy estimate among those who live to adulthood is probably somewhere in the 30’s.  No official records have yet been taken.  The oldest man in the area is in his early sixties, a real anomaly.  A friendly fellow, here’s a picture I took of him:

Older Moi Man

Most common causes of death are homicide and sickness (but not necessarily “white-men” sickness, but other common things like dysentery).  Regarding homicide, tribal life is violent.  There is a boy here I’ve met whose father was recently hacked to death by machete in front of his very eyes.  I also met a man who killed his first and third wives.  Now he’s a Christian and his life has markedly changed: he doesn’t even beat his one remaining wife, which is a common enough practice here (a neighbor was just beating up his wife yesterday, I noticed her lips were all cut up today).

These incidents raise another interesting point: law and order out here.  Which is basically nil (they need Joe!).  Back in the States, if you killed two of your three wives, you’d probably get sentenced to life imprisonment, or worse.  But here, though you may get killed in retaliation, you may not either, depending. 

Back to Cook and lighter subjects: I was surprised at the writing style found in the journals of sailors on his voyages: Cook himself, but also Banks, Clerke, and others.  Well written prose, elegantly composed on par far above the ability of many moderns today.  They have inspired me to attempt waxing eloquent in this post (or at least using big words). 

For one small instance, Charles Clerke worded his report of Cooks untimely death in Hawaii in the following manner:

“The unhappy catastrophe which befell us I do think appears by no means the effect of premeditated intention [on the part of the natives], but an unfortunate string of circumstances tending to the same unlucky point, one action irritating another till they terminated in the fatal manner.” (Horwitz, 411)

I don’t believe there’s anyone I’ve worked with in the professional realm who would have put together a sentence in the preceding fashion.

Heck, I’m so ignorant I didn’t even know Cook met his untimely death by natives in Hawaii.  His end came through a lugubrious interchange on the shores of Kealakekua Bay – a clash of civilizations gone awry if ever there was one.

So it’s still raining outside… been pouring buckets the entire last three hours I’ve written this.  Isn’t it weird how it took me three hours to write something that will probably take less than three minutes for someone to read?

We caught our tenth rat, a small one shown below… #11 got it’s tail caught in a steel-type trap, then consequently gave a merry chase while dragging the trap behind him with human foes attempting to hasten his demise while brandishing such weaponry as a broom and wifflebat.  Finally, the rat freed his tail and escaped to Lamu, probably.

Rat Trap

I’ve ran out of things to say and it’s now past midnight so I’ll stop and publish this tomorrow when (if) we have internet. 

In the Moi Tribe

I’ve been without internet for quite awhile.  Since writing last I’ve gone interior where I’ll be another couple weeks.  Our internet unexpectedly started working again (intermittently) so I get to update ye olde blog.

I’m staying with a missionary family out in the bush among the Moi tribe, helping them get set back up here after a year of absence.

Though I now have internet (via satellite dish), we truly are in one of the last remaining boondocks of the globe, I think.  It’s a strange mix of modern influence and stone-age lifestyle.  In many ways being here is like a time warp.

Our flight was May 14th.  We came in on a six-seater Kodiak plane early in the morning.  We had two flights chartered: one for us and one for the luggage.

The reason we flew in early became apparent to me after living here awhile: we get clouds and rain pretty much every afternoon that would make landing tough.  (there is tons of rain here, they don’t call it a rainforest for nothing, I guess.)

Even though the morning we came in was a clear, calm one, the landing still seemed intense.  After clearing the nearby mountains the pilot descended by circling several times to lose enough altitude for landing, then we shot in fast over the houses and landed on this short, sloped runway.  The end of the runway even has a hill, which is a new one.

The runway took seven years to build.  It is basically a smooth swathe of jungle notched right out of the side of a mountain.  The terrain here is ruggedly incredible. 

There have been outsiders here since the late 90s (when the tribe was “discovered”), and for the first number of years while the runway was still being worked on the only access was via helicopter, which is significantly more expensive.

Here are pictures from the journey:

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One of the MAF pilots was getting qualified for landing on this airstrip, so after we were safely dropped off the pilots did a number of practice landings.

Here are a few pictures and a video I took of the landings and takeoffs (the video is low quality because our internet is quite slow for uploading):  

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But before long, the planes left, leaving us physically cutoff from the outside world! 

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Below is a picture of some of our welcoming committee.  Though some men wear western clothes (shorts and tee-shirt), the majority don’t.  The men below are in native attire. 

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Seems to me the tribal clothing style for men does the exact opposite of what clothes are supposed to do: rather than discreetly covering, they draw special attention.  Their gourds are an enhancement.

So most the last week was spent getting settled in, fixing things, and cleaning, as the house had been sitting vacant for a year.  It was like going to Mound City: the yard needed mowed, the lawn mower fixed, bugs swept off the porch, etc.  Pigs had rutted around in their yard and pretty much destroyed that as well.  The whole place was overgrown and everything quite dirty. 

It was much worse than Mound City.  For one thing, their house is more like a “cabin” than a nicely insulated home.  It’s made from rough-hewn boards cut from local timber (via chainsaw).  No insulation, no glass windows, no concrete foundation, simple tin roof, etc.  The picture of their house (below) makes it look more modern than it is!  (I can see light through cracks between boards in my wall as I type this)

House

First thing needed fixing was water.  A PVC pipe fed water to their house from a spring up the hill.  The inlet wasn’t sucking water anymore (wasn’t even in the water for some reason) and needed adjustment, then primed, which required hauling a car battery and backup portable pump up the hill through the jungle to the spring source.  After a considerable amount of slip-sliding in mud, swatting half the known bugs in the universe, and sweating out 84% of my water content (among a few other sordid adventures) water in the house was finally running again!  This was good, because I was thirsty. 

PVC Going into Water Spring

After Rich and I spent the better part of several days troubleshooting the internet, we gave up on that.  Turns out it wasn’t anything wrong on our end because it just started working one day after fixing itself.  Well, it sorta works, it randomly switches on and off.

Fortunately, we also have a satellite phone which can be used to contact the outside world, but it is expensive to use.  We also have a radio and make contact each day with that. 

Check out the antennae on our sat phone!

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There has been some termite damage.  Ok, a lot of termite damage.  The little boogers got into books and all sorts of other jazz. 

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There are also rats (and spiders and biting centipedes and geckos and sticky flies).  So far we’ve caught no fewer than seven rats, all within about twelve feet of my bed!  One we caught underneath my bed.  There are still more though, just yesterday I was sitting reading a book and stuff kept falling on my head from the rafters above.

Some of the rats we’ve drowned, others gave to locals for food.  They eat that sort of thing, as well as frogs (saw a guy with one the other day), fruit bats, and spiders.  Apparently their diet lacks protein.  They have pigs, but not many, and just eat them on special occasions. 

Here’s a picture of my room (after being cleaned up):

My Room Downstairs  

There is a “frontier feeling” in this place.  Once the plane flew out we were left on our own with the locals – no way out until a plane comes to get us again.  There are no roads in.  All our power is via solar panels.  Our water is via mountain spring.  Foodwise we brought in lots of staples – complemented by local fruits and vegetables (such as taro, avocado, and papayas), but everything has to be cooked from scratch, which Karen does an amazing job doing, I might add.

Yet the family has lived here eight years so this is old hat to them.

For a few days I got sick with a cold and did a lot of reading.  One book I read was Guns, Germs, and Steel and found it quite enlightening.  The basic premise the author attempts to prove is the differences in the rise of technology on different continents being due more to geographic and environmental variables than inherit differences between the people groups themselves.  In other words, people living primitively are not doing so because they’re less smart, but because their native environment won’t support a higher civilization.  The book paid particular attention to the natural animals and food crops each continent had. 

For instance, North and South America combined only had one large mammal that was domesticable (the Llama of Peru), whereas Eurasia had 13 such large animals (like the cow for milk, leather, and meat – the ox for pulling plows – the horse for transportation).  This inherit difference alone was a major obstacle to the Native American Indians developing the same type of sophistication possible in Eurasia.

In a similar vein, looking at agriculture we find the Mediterranean zone had 32 of the top 56 large-seeded grass species (like barley, wheat, beans, etc) whereas Sub-Saharan Africa only had 2!  This means farming was less viable an option there. The advantages of farming are multiplous, including the opportunity for food surplus’s to develop, the ability for a greater population to live per acre, and the rise of specialized tradesmen who don’t have to spend all day gathering food for themselves. 

What I learned in the book hit closer to home as I see here there is no possible way here to do the type of farming we do back in Kansas.  I’ve never seen more rugged terrain in my life!  The Moi are highlanders; everywhere I look are sharp mountain ridges.  Any flat real estate is a rare commodity.  Even the house I’m sitting in is built on a hill. 

Everywhere I walk seems to be either up or down, and the walking is treacherous as the mud makes everything ice-like slippy.  I’ve had my feet slide out from under me when I was just standing in one place minding my own business!  Now that’s disconcerting.

Here’s a quote from the book I found interesting:

“New Guinea’s population is not only small in aggregate, but also fragmented into thousands of micro populations by the rugged terrain: swamps in much of the lowlands, steep-sided ridges and narrow canyons alternating with each other in the highlands, and dense jungle swathing both the lowlands and the highlands.

When I am engaged in biological exploration in New Guinea, with teams of New Guineans as field assistants, I consider excellent progress to be three miles per day even if we are traveling over existing trails. Most highlanders in traditional New Guinea never went more than 10 miles from home in the course of their lives.” (pg 306)

Can you imagine living your entire life and never travelling more than ten miles from where you were born?  All quite fascinating.

This morning I went out bird hunting with a couple of the younger guys.  We tramped around through the jungle for four hours.  I’d say half the time we were on what I’d term a “deer trail” (though there are no deer here), and the other half was purely “bushwacking” it through the jungle. 

We hunted with pellet guns; I was a little disappointed we didn’t use bows and arrows as every guy here has there own set and carries it around with them religiously wherever they go. 

Here’s a picture I took one evening last week of several guys when we were out walking on the airstrip.  They were playing a game of seeing who could shoot their arrows the furthest.  I marked off the distance they could shoot and it was about 100 paces (~100 yds).  The bows are a lot like the ones Joe makes.  They use a wood from a certain Palm Tree for the bow.  I watched a guy today shaving away on one using a piece of bamboo shoot for a razor.

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But they’re moving into the modern age now, bows and arrows are fine for carrying around the village, but when you’re ready to kill the birds it’s best to pull out the pellet gun (though I’m told they can shoot birds with arrows too).

While we were out hunting, I heard a lot of birds, and Sapiya actually shot one (of unknown type, but something like a quail).  To be honest though, I never even spotted a bird in the thick jungle canopy. 

Jungle

The “hiking through the jungle” part was kinda like slogging around the jungle section of the Sedgwick County Zoo, but off the path.  Also reminded me of some places Luke and I hiked around in in Oregon, except more dense with steeper terrain. 

I used the word, “slogging.”  That’s what I was doing.  But the two guys I was with (the younger one above and Sapiya who is a little older) waltzed along as if we were on a Sunday stroll.  In the four hours we were out they never once slipped, got winded, took a drink of water, or even seemed to sweat much.  They both were barefoot – thorns, vines and all.  In contrast, most the time I was out of breath, falling down, slipping, sliding, drinking liter after liter of water, and sweating so profusely I turned into a giant sweat blob.  I reminded myself of Po in Kung Fu Panda. 

And you know how in the rainforest section of the Sedgwick County Zoo your glasses always fog up?  That’s how it was for my glasses too most the morning: the steamy fog combined with the sweat of my brow turned my lenses into such a soppy mess I couldn’t see nuthin’ (like birds).

Nick in the Jungle

Enough about hunting birds, another book I’ve recently read is, Lords of the Earth by Don Richardson.  Don’t think if I’ve ever read so violent a book before, people are getting killed and murdered from the first page to the last page – a real page turner, to be sure. 

Lords of the Earth tells the story of ex-commando Australian turned missionary (Stanley Albert Dale) and his work among the Yali cannibal tribe in former Irian Jaya (now Papua). 

In reference to the title, “Lords of the Earth,” Don had this to say:

In their primal isolation, the Yali considered themselves “lords of the earth.” Now they are discovering that in the eyes of patrol officers, schoolteachers, tourists and traders, they are not “lords of the earth” at all, but only “backward primitive,” whose simplicity leaves them open to easy exploitation and abuse.  

A similar issue faces the Moi, who are only now being exposed to outside influence.  It’s quite intriguing to me as they are obviously quite more advanced than myself in regards to living in the wild.  I’m told they know every plant and tree, what’s edible and what’s poisonous, and walking through the woods to them is like walking through a supermarket to us.

Trying to keep up with them on their trails is pretty much a lost cause; I look like a clown.  But they don’t know much about computers or the modern age.  They had no written language until the missionaries gave them one, and though some can now read and write, there aren’t many books translated into Moi.  Not even the entire Bible.

It stretches my mind to think of what it would have been like to have been born into a culture like this.  To be a grown-up and not know how to do basic arithmetic or be familiar with world history or able to read?? 

Oh well, too much to think about.  At least their life is simpler and less complicated, which is a plus.

In other news, I’ve gotten in some pretty serious games of UNO with the three girls here (8, 10, and 12 years old).  I taught them additional rules which makes the game faster paced and more funner.  Unfortunately, it’s got to where they always beat me, they’re so fast I can’t compete!  But we have fun.

Ok, that’s the rambly brambly update from this end. 

Goofing Off in Papua

I should enjoy these lazy days while I have them.

Haven’t been doing much around here… pretty slow this past week.  Just hanging around little ol’ Sentani, Papua.

Road Work

Helped missionaries some on road work in front of the mission.  Got bit up by bugs, but so far haven’t contracted the Dengue fever, which they say is common enough here.

Website

My good friend Pat put together Bible Study materials for the Gospel of Mark and wanted to make it available online.  So I got that all setup which took some time. 

It’s free, you can check it out here: http://markbiblestudies.com

Jungle Hiking

One afternoon I hiked around in the jungle behind our house up to a waterfall with a couple other New Tribe guys and their sons.  That trek was pretty sweet. 

Here are my hiking companions:

Hiking Buddies

Whilst hiking, I was remarking how similar the air smelled to the rainforest section at the Sedgwick County Zoo.  Course this was the real thing.  The terrain also reminded me of Red River Gorge in Ken-tunn-kee.

Hiking in Jungle

There were, in fact, many waterfalls and waterslides. 

Falls

Waterfall

Since it was hot as blue blazes and muggy as slime, swimming through the torrents was half the fun.  The trick was not getting swept away.

Swimming

Motorcycle Riding

Took a scenic ride with Rich on the back of his moto out to a nearby lake.  We hiked up this hill and got the following stupendous view.  Also got sunburned.

Lake by Sentani

Bush Flight out to the Jungle

Since I didn’t have much else to do, and since there was extra room, I took a flight into a tribal mission station (Nagi) with a family who was returning. 

Here is the plane we took in, a 6 seater Pilatus PC-6:

Getting Ready to Takeoff

Pilatus

The flight in was pretty spectacular.  About an hour and a half over dense forest and jungle.  Don’t worry environmentalists, there are still plenty of trees left.

Toward the end of the flight we crossed a mountain range (skimmed over is more like it) and landed on the far side in the middle of no-where-ville. 

The flight reminded me of the Imax show where you fly through the Grand Canyon.  Except it wasn’t an Imax, and it wasn’t the Grand Canyon. 

On the trip down we had the plane full with the family and lots of luggage and I sat in the back, but it was still comfortable and a great view.  Melissa, one of the returning missionaries, gave me a guided tour (transmitted in yell-format over the roar of the engine). 

Then on the way back to Sentani I sat up front with the pilot and tried having a conversation with him through the silly microphone.  You had to practically put that thing in your mouth to get it to work. 

After eating a peanut butter and jelly sandwich “around” the mic, I felt sorry for the unfortunate person who had to use it after me.

Papua Forest from the Air

Flying over Star Mountain Range Papua

I learned (afterwards) the village we flew into had one of the most dangerous landing strips in Papua.  Reason being it is so short (about 1000’ feet) and always slick and muddy.  We splashed mud up onto the bottom of the wings in the process of landing.

Guess I should add they’ve been taking flights in and out regularly for several years without incident, so I guess it’s “safe” after a fashion.  I have a lot of respect for the pilots skill.

Landing

When taking back off, I started wondering if we were going to make it… but just before plowing into trees at the end, we pulled up and flew out!  Oh, what larks.

Nearing Sentani, I took the following picture of the lake I motorcycled to last week:

Near Sentani from the Air

So that’s the update here.

In short: I’m meeting many great people, having some interesting adventures, and eating more noodles than I can count.

Dissecting the Present

I saw this warning notice regarding touts on the back of a slick brochure for local tourist company Krishna Bali Tour:

“Please make a call direct by your self to have the true information and avoid diverting to the other personal. Some case happen because of diverting that make you feel disappointed and you blame us for the problem that we never done. Beware to the person who act and pretend helping you to contact us but you will never know with whom you are reserved”

Bali is an island of tourism.  And it is chock full of tourists, nearly 3 million per year.  But, according to this article, tourists are stingier than they used to be.  In the past an average visitor spent 300 dollars per day, but now that average has dropped to 100 dollars. 

Well, we aren’t spending less for lack of their trying to get us to spend more!  In the comments section of the above article, Lisa had said this to say about the relentless advertising:

“I am tired of being harassed by Bali shopkeepers and taxi drivers. This is the real reason I don’t want to spend any money in Bali. It has been ruined by overzealous touts. In 10 minutes I am harassed by over 30 different offers to look in their shop or for "taxi" or "transport". This why I don’t want to spend any money here.”

Lisa might be slightly exaggerating by saying in 10 minutes she has over 30 different offers, but not by much.  By my count, in one stretch of walking I was solicited for various services 27 times.  Not counting the dozen or so taxi’s who honked their horns at me in passing to let me know they were available.

But I can’t complain.  This time in Bali has been brief, just several days, but they’ve been pretty laid back.  Yesterday just hung out in the water most the day.  It is excruciatingly hot here.  Gotta be over 100.  Tried surfing and caught some waves.  Even was able to stand up.  Once.  It was a lot of fun and I wouldn’t mind doing that more sometime.

The last couple days I’ve mainly eaten local dishes.  Spicy soup-like stuff with various rices, noodles, chicken, and herbs plus who knows what all else.  Fresh cold tea from glass bottles.  Even tried a local desert of crushed ice mixed with avocados, pineapples and other local tropical fruits.  Topping off all this culinary delight I’m back to eating my diarrhea medication.

So later today I have two more flights.  Flying with the Brown family – our flights go through the night.  Then, tomorrow morning we land in Papua (formely Irian Jaya) where I’ll be for an undetermined amount of time…

Bali Walee

A Million Motorbikes.  “Taxi?” 

Oppressive heat.  “Taxi?” 

Short Statured Locals.  “Taxi?” 

Bali, a Pacifica Isle.  “Taxi?” 

No, I don’t want a taxi.

After five flights and a two day layover in Italy, I made it to Bali, Indonesia.  Now just two more flights to my final destination: the mountains of Irian Jaya where I’ll spend a month (or two) with a missionary couple through New Tribes Missions.

A plane unceremoniously yanked me from African culture to European.  Then another from European culture to Asian.  The total flight time from Italy to Bali was fifteen hours.  I’m caught up on my movie watching now for a lifetime…  and for the record, while Matt Daemon has been in some entertaining movies, he has also been in some lame movies too. 

Arriving in a new culture is always awkward.  Little things tend to throw me off…  like the driving on the left side of the road (and walking on the left side of the sidewalk).  The differences in language (Italian was similar to Spanish so I actually understood a little, but Balineese is all jibber jabber).  The shift in modes of public transportation (hitchhiking in Israel, busses in Egypt, minivans in Africa, motorcycles here).  The time difference… I’m now thirteen hours ahead of home.  The ridiculous currency rates (here in Bali 1 US Dollar equals nearly 10,000 Rupiah).  Sewage running underneath the sidewalks and the sidewalks having large chunks of concrete missing from them (which can throw you off quite literally as happened to me walking one night in Nairobi). 

When I quit my job last summer I bought a cheap, simple watch from Wal-Mart (it only tells time) and hoped it would last through my month staffing at Turkey Hill. Now, nearly a year later, it is still ticking! but unfortunately the time adjustment knob broke off in Egypt. Therefore, while in Ethiopia and Kenya I always added one hour to what my watch said. After awhile I got used to it and there was no big deal (though I felt sorry for the folks sitting next to me in public transport who would lean over and check the time by my watch and consequently do a double-take). Now, however, I have to add six hours to whatever my watch says, which is more confusing. Oh well, the brain is flexible. But to think, there are people who own watches so sophisticated as to have preset buttons just for time-zone adjustment!

Wasn’t sure what to expect landing in Bali and I was surprised.  Though that in itself is not surprising seeing as I’m probably one of the only people ever to fly into Bali without knowing where he was going or having done even an ounce of research into the place.  I did check the currency conversion rate in advance, but that was about it.

Coming in from the air, the first thing I noticed was we were landing on an island.  And not a very big island either, I could see the whole thing.  Since the airport is right on the water, the landing coming in was scary.  We kept getting closer and closer to the ocean and when it looked like we were skimming the waves and I had pulled out my safety card reviewing how to inflate my life vest, we suddenly punched through a tree line and crashed into the runway.  Ok, so we didn’t actually crash, just landed.

My two main preconceptions of Indonesia were 1) poverty and 2) Islam.  Turns out (for Bali at least), neither are true.  Most of the some 4 million inhabitants of Bali are Hindu, and the island is awash in money since it is the premier tourist destination for Indonesia.  I’m sure there are poor here, but the infrastructure at least is quite developed.

Even with the moolah floating around here on trees, that still doesn’t mean they know how to put together a functional bathroom.  In my experiences with developing nations, I’ve observed the most difficult aspect for them to get done correctly is the Jon.  For example, at the hotel I stayed last night my toilet had issues.  Then at the hotel I’m staying tonight (one notch higher) the faucet sink leaks… but at least the toilet here works and there is even the luxury of a shower curtain (quite unusual that, shower curtains are a distinctly US phenomena).

Balineese folks seem friendly and even speak a leetle eenglish.  “Taxi?” 

So taxi wanabees are everywhere.  I find the real taxis expensive (contrary to what I heard from an unreliable source in Italy) but somehow that doesn’t surprise me as they drive what appear to be brand-new vehicles.  My official airport driver yesterday had a thickish diamond ring around one finger and a thickish golden chain around his neck and was overall dressed like J. Crew.  He stopped to ask directions multiple times, and though these visits were at times lengthy he never once shut off his car.  I couldn’t help contrast this with the taxi I rode last week in Nairobi where the poor bloke in a rattle trap cruiser cut his engine at every red light.

Now I’m off to try finding a barber and get a haircut.  I already dropped off my dirty clothes this morning at a nearby Laundromat.  It wasn’t a self-serve establishment, they do everything.  And “everything” is supposed to be done by tomorrow.  Takes 24 hours apparently to get clothes washed around here.  Mom does a sight better than that, but she is inconveniently located at 9,584 miles away (I just Googled it). 

Saying I dropped off all my dirty clothes is the same as saying I dropped off all my clothes.  Except for what I’m wearing: a pair of shorts and a shirt I’m planning to throw away tomorrow after picking up my laundry. 

Oh, and the cost for cleaning clothes here is by the weight, which is a new one.  15,000 Rupiah per kilogram.

Yes, the currency is ridiculous.  “Why, I’d like a coke please.”  “No problem, that will only set you back 8,000 Rupiah.”  “What?!  That much for a measly coke?”

From Venice, Much Thanks to Everyone for the Birthday Well-Wishes!

I’ve been receiving Happy Birthday notes throughout today via e-mail and Facebook – some short, some lengthy.  Just want to say, “Thank you!” to all for helping make this #29 special, even though I’m overseas.

Was blessed to get to spend this birthday in Venice, Italy.  Had one full layover day here before heading onwards to Indonesia tomorrow morning.

So today was spent enjoying the sights of Venice… luckily I didn’t have to do it alone but joined with some other backpacker travelers I met at my hostel (a Filipino, a Mexican, and an Argentinian!).  It was definitely a unique, interesting, and memorable day. 

As fun as Venice was, I think just having a cookout back at Mom and Dad’s house with family (and perhaps some chocolate birthday cake as well) would have been more fun.  But hey, you take what you can, eh?

Here are several pictures from today:

Boats in Venice

Live Music in Venice

Bridge in Venice

Venice Canal

Nick in Venice Italy

Frankfurt, Germany

Just made it to Frankfurt, Germany.  Sitting here grabbing a McDonalds burger in the airport. 

It seems weird being in a different culture again, even if I’m only seeing Germany from the airport.  Being yanked from one culture to the next is rattling.

Walked outside and it’s cold.  They had snow here yesterday.  Where I was this morning in Kenya it was quite hot.

Here people speak as if they have marbles in their mouths, so it seems to me.

Little things are surprising.  Like here at McDonald’s the drinks are self-serve, but that’s the first time I’ve had a self-serve drink in probably five months.  And everything disposable is surprising.  I’m used to always using real plates and silverware.

Last night I ate in a small Mom and Pop’s shop in South Nairobi close by my guest house.  It was dark and rainy when I walked down there, and electricity was out across that area of the city so they had the tables lit by candlelight.  Not having electricity didn’t stop anything, they were used to it.  My chicken shish-kebab with spices was hot off the grill.  And they don’t use a cash register, just write up a receipt by hand and pull cash from an old wooden drawer. 

Where I am now is a far cry from that: in the center of polished veneer of modern German civilization: marble floors, rich upholstery, well lighted interior, everything ship shape Bristol fashion.

On to Venice!

Crazy Safari

It seemed appropriate to spend my last few days in Kenya on Safari, viewing wild animals. 

So I don’t know what you were doing this past Saturday morning, but I arose early and after catching a bus from my guest house to the bus station, remembered I’d accidentally forgot my camera back at the guest house so took a taxi back to the guest house and then back to the bus station and then found a shuttle up to Lake Nakuru and arrived around lunchtime. *whew* 

In the town of Nakuru, the first order of business was to grab lunch.  Picked a random restaurant (it was a busy one, which is always a good sign).  In fact, it was so busy people were doubling up on tables, so I ended up sitting with a local.  He was broodily silent and didn’t speak much.  We both ordered the same thing: a plate of french fries.  Sounds weird, but that’s how they do it here: give you a heaping plate of hot fries with sundry sauces to drench on top.  Then you stir the whole concoction together and eat it with a fork.  Pretty yummy, but not that healthy.

After lunch I took a bicycle taxi to the park entrance.  Yep, you heard right: bicycle taxi.  This was the first time I’d taken one, but they are ubiquitous in Navaru: bikes with a seat rigged behind the weary pedaler.  Like a moto-taxi, just quieter.

Upon arriving at the park entrance I was told I couldn’t enter without a vehicle.  Sadly, a bicycle taxi didn’t count.  To hire a local vehicle was going to cost $60, on top of the $80 entrance fee.  That would be for a two hour drive around the lake to see flamingos. 

Honest, I’m not a cheapskate, but I needed some time to think about this.  While I was thinking things over in the pleasant park like area by the entrance I noticed there was a beautiful view of flamingos from right there (without even entering!).  Additionally, monkeys were also running helter skelter which were fun to watch. 

After deep contemplation, I decided it wasn’t worth $140 for me to see flamingos and monkeys from the other side of the gate when I could see them fine from this side of the gate.

Here are pictures I took from the Navaru area:

Baby Monkey

Monkey Face

Monkeys

The monkeys were quite precocious, and about as as ornery the bears in Jellystone National Park in regards to snitching food they weren’t supposed to.

Below, one of the miscreants ran off with a bag of MY breadrolls.  It generously helped itself to these whilst my back was turned taking pictures of its adorable relatives.

Eating my Food

I couldn’t get great shots of the flamingos, but it was some small comfort to know that even if I had entered I wouldn’t have gotten much better as 1) you aren’t allowed to leave your car and 2) only a few of the half million flamingos remain as the water level is currently too high for their habitat. 

Flamingos from a Long Way Away

While wandering around taking pictures of monkeys, I fell into the company of a young South African couple on their honeymoon.  For their honeymoon they were taking a 150cc Chinese motorbike from Cape Town to Cairo.  Right now they had arrived at Lake Navuru.  Well, sorta. 

Turns out they had a rear tire blow-out the day before (which was nearly catastrophic, but thankfully wasn’t) so their bike was currently in the shop.  With nothing better to do, they had hitchhiked to Navaru Park with a Brit they’d met in their lodge.  Upon arriving to Lake Navaru, they decided (like me) it was too expensive.

So we had a nice time hanging out: watching monkeys and flamingos and drinking fruit juice at the local canteena (well, I had fruit juice – waiting for the Brit to finish his tour so he could take us all back.  Here is my new South African friend Gillome:

South African

Later, after a two hour drive stuffed in the back of the Brit’s micro-ute with the South African’s, I was dropped off Camp Carnelly’s where I spent the night in a dorm.  I had the whole dorm to myself!  It was quite reasonable at $7.50/night.  However, the picture below doesn’t show the lizards on the wall or the monster spider I almost killed before it escaped, only to reappear in my dreams later (j/k).

Dorm at Camp Carnellys

There was a restaurant at the camp that sold pizza.  I bought one, and though it cost more than my nights lodging, it was worth it.

Before I hit the hay after such a long, eventful day, it seemed a good idea to walk down to the water and see Lake Naviashu.  Lo and behold, there were hippos walking along the waters edge! they were quite closeby where I was walking. 

There was a small knee-high barbed wire fence between us, and I put my camera down on one of the wooden posts to try taking a picture of the hippos when, as I was fiddling with the controls, I touched the fence (which happened to be an electric fence) and it royally zapped me!  What a shocking experience… I think the voltage was set for deterring hippopotamuses, not humans.

The next morning there were no hippos to be seen down by the water, but Lake Naviasha is a pretty lake.

Lake Naviasha

I talked to that guy standing out on the dock by the big suitcase.  He was with a team of professional looking people scurrying around a bunch of film equipment and two big vans.  I asked him what was up, and he told me they were working on a documentary film about local Kenyan food recipes.  I couldn’t think of anything more exciting to make a film about, personally. With Hippos and giraffes and The Big Five roaming all over, why not do a feature film on minced sauces? That’s what the public wants, surely.

Turns out they were getting early morning footage of the lake for their film, which I was told is supposed to air in America on Fox when it’s finished.

After catching another slew of mutatos (the word Kenyans use for local mini-busses), I arrived in the town of Nyeri that afternoon.

The above sentence belies the fact that riding mutatos for hours on end is always an adventure (in fact, an adventure even if riding for only minutes on end). 

In Ethiopia, the record I saw for squeezing the most people into a twelve passenger mutato was twenty (myself being one of the squished).  But on this trip to Nyeri, I at one point counted (in our fifteen passenger van) twenty-six of the accused jammed in. 

Anyways, getting to Nyeri was a long drive (about 5 hours), but conveniently there was a pleasant stopping point halfway:  Thomas Waterfall.  I never would have known about this scenic wonder if I hadn’t happened to have read about it just the day before while hitchhiking in the car of the Brit who had a local guidebook in the dash… which I read while being squished with the South Africans in the backseat.

Anyways, I hired a motorcycle taxi from Nyahuru to take me outside town to the waterfalls. 

Thomas Waterfall

Nick at Waterfall

There were also gift shops by the Falls.  Fifty of them, to be precise.  Some were closed because it was Sunday, but the unscrupulous ones who remained open managed to con a few bucks from me.  I’m wearing a new bracelet now.

Gift Shop

Back in the mutatos, I finally arrived outside Nyeri where I hired yet another motorcycle taxi to take me to the Aberdare Country Club.  I was supposed to have reservations for one of their lodges but unfortunately, my reservations were lost in the shuffle.  Thankfully, they still had plenty of room so it wasn’t a problem to sign up on arrival.

I knew this place was going to be upscale, but didn’t realize quite how upscale.  While my personal 4×4 Toyota Land Cruiser was on its way to pick me up to take me out to the lodge in the remote Aberdare National Park, I was sat down in a manicured lawn bordered with flower for a spot of tea, waited upon by a suited butler.

After drinking my tea, I got this pretty photo of a cheeky Weaver bird perched atop my teapot:

Weaver Bird on Teapot

Soon my personal Land Cruiser arrived and we were off!  To “The Ark” lodge, that is.  On the drive out we saw quite a bit of game alongside the road including Cape Buffalo, Elephant, Monkeys, and other such.

Here is The Ark lodge:

The Ark

The unique feature of this lodge is that one can view animals outside the windows in the wild from the comfort of inside.  It’s pretty cool.  Quite luxurious, I wasn’t prepared for such opulence.  Here is one of the four viewing areas:

The Ark Animal Viewing Area

My favorite viewing area was the bunker down on ground level with the animals:

Ground Floor Viewing Area

I saw Cape Buffalos, Hyenas, Bids, Elephants, etc.  It was great.  And since I was watching them all in the wild (more or less), it was fascinating seeing how they interacted with one other. 

The Elephants and Cape Buffalo, for example, would together keep the Hyenas away, while the Elephants would sometimes chase a Cape Buffalo off if it was getting too close.  Sometimes the Elephants tussled among themselves too.  I pretty much love Elephants, I decided.

One thing I’d never seen an Elephant do before was get down on its front knees to propose.  No, I mean get down on its front knees to use its tusks to dig in the ground for grub (sorta like proposing, I guess).  But I thought that was pretty sweet to see. 

Here are some Elephant pics I got from the Bunker area:

Elaphant

Elephants Horsing Around

All too soon it was time for supper.  The dining hall was quite luxurious:

The Ark Dining Room

The food was high class: of an Indian variety.  Curry green beans, chapatti, basmati rice, sliced watermelon, dried beef, all the goods.  They even gave me vegetable soup for a starter which I was required to get down before starting in on the buffet.

For the high rate I paid, all meals were included.  Little did I know a glass of water cost four dollars! Just the food was free.  Oh well, at least it was good water.

The butlers watched over my every bite, whisking plates away the moment my last finger was licked.  All this made me a bit self-conscious as I’m not used to such class.  Wasn’t sure if I was eating everything correctly.  Was my pinky high enough?  High etiquette is perhaps beyond my style, despite all Mom tried teaching me growing up. 

No joke, I had three butter knives.  What was I supposed to do with three butter knives?!  And it wasn’t like there were three knives for my table, they actually had three knives set out for each place.  Since they only gave me two rolls, even using one knife per roll still left one unused.  Perhaps the third knife was for cleaning my teeth or picking my nose?  I wasn’t sure and hated to experiment, so instead left it daintily on the table, pristine.

Later, I fell asleep on a couch watching game out a viewing window enjoying my free, unlimited, complimentary hot chocolate.

So the next morning we had breakfast and then the guests (all dozen of us) were shuttled back to the Country Club.  Yes, there were only about a dozen guests: one Indian family from Mumbai and two retired couples from the Midwest, besides myself.  This is low season apparently, so us dozen were rattling in a lodge that could have hosted perhaps hundreds of visitors.

On the shuttle ride we saw more game, including this spotted hyena:

Spotted Hyena

We also got a fantastic view of Mt. Kenya.  Next time I visit Africa (this time with my brothers) we are all going to climb Mt. Kenya together!  It’s the second highest peak in Africa (next to Kilimanjaro).

Mt Kenya

Mt. Kenya can’t be too hard to climb because I met two High school kids who did it last semester as part of a school class.  They told me thirty students went up…… with sixty porters! 

I figure when we climb Mt. Kenya we won’t be needing no porters.

After arriving back at the lodge, I went on a lengthy nature walk through a local game reserve with a Maasai guide.  This was the most fun thing I’ve done yet in Kenya!  It didn’t cost much either (about ten US dollars) which goes to show the funnest things in life don’t have to cost the mostest money.

I came to realize on the hike I most enjoy seeing game on foot versus from a viewing window (though that is nice) or from a 4×4 vehicle (though that is nice too).

The game reserve had Zebra, Giraffe, and various types of Antelope species.  The Zebra and Antelope were easy to find…

Zebras

Eland Antelope

…but the Giraffes were more hidey-like and we had to stealthily sneak around in the woods to get up to them.  We would find them and then they would run away, making the ground shake slightly as you heard their hooves padding through the brush. 

One time they even took off before we saw them, making the ground tremble in a disorienting manner as I couldn’t see them, yet knew they were close (which is amazing, considering how big they are).

Oh look, here’s one:

Tall Giraffe

Lone Giraffe

Finally, Mr. Maasai and I outwitted the bignecks and pushed a herd of them out into the open.  They are beautiful animals!

Many Giraffes

Even managed to get a picture of some Giraffes and Zebra together:

Zebra and Giraffes

So that was my safari.  Sans the adventure of another mutato ride back to Nairobi, the adventure of a massive thunderstorm, and the adventure of piecing together this lengthy blog post. 

Now I’m ready for bed.  Thanks for reading, and hope it made you feel as if you were able to go on Safari too!  That was my idea, to allow you to have the fun of seeing the animals without having the bother with the logistics, discomfort, and (at times) frustration.

Tomorrow morning I fly onwards… to Venice, Italy.  Oh what larks.  Except the part about getting up by 4am.

The Bad Samaritan

(these “beggar anecdotes” were written a couple weeks ago during the time I was visiting Lalibela in Ethiopia)

You’re Poor with No Opportunities?  Tough luck.

Was approached by a kid as I walked down the street who insistently wanted me to exchange Euro coins into Ethiopian Birr.  I had done this with a few other kids who had loose US change and the word apparently got around I was the new contact for currency exchange.

I didn’t appreciate this new role though and tried brushing him off.  Kept walking.  Told him I don’t need Euros anyhow and didn’t know the exchange rate to boot. 

Then another guy ran up from his internet café shop I was passing:

“Hey! Hey! You! You! Need internet?!”  I kept walking.  “NO, I told him.” 

He was as persistent as the kid: “Please!! Please! come to my internet shop!” 

“No! I don’t need your internet.”  Adding to myself, “And please go away.”

Then another kid came up on my left side with still more coins.  Could I please change these to Birr too?  My patience was wearing thin as I kept walking, telling them all, “No, no, no, a thousand times no.” 

But I was outnumbered, three people jabbering to me at once with different requests: “Internet! Euros! Change!  Please! Farenge! Internet! Euros! Birr! You! You! You!”  I insistently told them all, “No, no, no, no no, no, no…” as I continued striding down the street.

Yet the first kid became more insistent, holding his Euros right in front of my face and getting in my way, explaining he JUST wanted a few birr to buy some shoes!

In massive frustration I stopped right in the middle of the road and spun around on the poor kid and looked him right in the eyes and said, “Lookit! I am NOT a European so I don’t need Euros -  I don’t even know what the exchange rate is!  In fact,” I added, “I am AMERICAN.” 

As I was patiently explaining this to him, I noticed something about his eyes.  They were severely crossed – one turned inwards, just like mine.  He was about thirteen.  And I noticed he DID need new shoes, and he looked forlorn at my sharp attitude.  He walked off.

Of course, then I felt awful.  Yes, I AM American.  And because I’m American, when I was 13 years old like that boy I was having my second cosmetic eye operation to have my eyes straightened.  This kid, at 13, is just trying to scrape enough cash together to buy himself a pair of shoes.  He’ll never have the opportunity to have an eye-straightening operation, they will always be severely crossed. 

Yeah, so later that made me feel kinda bad.  At the time though I didn’t feel bad enough to come back and exchange his paltry Euros.

I’m a Bad Samaritan.

You Need Medical Help?  Oh well.

I walked to the top of a nearby mountain today.  As I left town, two boys decided to accompany me as guide up to the monastery.  I didn’t want them to accompany me.  In fact, I wanted to be alone for five minutes to think without being continually pestered.  Alone time, as you will find next time you visit Ethiopia, is not meant to be.

The boys came despite my protests; but they grew on me.  By the end of the hike, I liked them both quite a lot. 

One young boy, Tilouse, kept wiping his eyes because they were tearing up.  At first I thought it was dust or wind or something but he kept wiping them all the way up and down, about a three hour hike. 

Turns out he has had problems with his eyes since birth.  Also turns out he is “very clever,” as two of his friends later told me.  At least clever in Math, where he’s supposedly far above his age grade.  He wants to be an engineer someday. 

Even though he’s always crying and his eyes are bloodshot, this little guy is happy!  Always smiling (when I saw his family later they also told me he is usually happy).

Tilouse will smile real big, then his eyes tear up and he has to look down and wipe them.  I don’t see how he could be so happy with that type of eye problem.  If my eyes wouldn’t stop crying I don’t think I would be happy.

As we were coming down the mountain Tilouse looked at me with this big grin and said, “I am soooo happy!”  then wiped more tears away. Makes my eyes water just remembering it.

Come to find out, Tilouse is also an orphan. 

Later, I went to his grandma’s house, where he lives.  I met his sister and brother and uncle.  They all live in a dark mud-baked hut.  They didn’t ask me for money… a pleasant change.  In fact, they treated me as an honored guest and gave me coffee, tea, and chapatti.  One of Tilouse’s friends gave me a necklace and tied it around my neck.

I took Tilouse and a few other kids out to supper that evening.  Tilouse just kept grinning and crying. 

Apparently there isn’t anything the doctor in Lalibela can do for him except refer him to the Addis Ababa hospital, which he did.  But his family is too poor to send him to Addis; much less pay for medication. Tilouse told me he had never left the town of Lalibela before. 

Tilouse with Eye Problems

So Tilouse needs help.  But so does everyone else.  I wanted to help, but didn’t know how without staying in Lalibela longer to talk with the local doctor and figure out more details and then take him on a 12 hour bus trip down to Addis (and back), which I also didn’t want to do as it would be inconvenient, you know? 

So Tilouse will probably have eye problems his whole life because I didn’t want to stay an extra day longer to help him. 

I’m a Bad Samaritan.

You’re Destitute?  Sorry, I’m too Lazy to Pull Cash From my Pocket

A few days ago I was on a long bus ride when we stopped for a break. 

As I was walking back toward the bus I bought some cookies from a street vendor.  He gave me change which I had in my my hand as I turned around and was accosted by an old beggar lady.  I gave her some of my change.

Then I turned again and another beggar stepped up to me so I handed him my remaining change.  As I held the bills out I noticed with dismay he had no hands which to accept!  just stumps of arms.  He motioned with one stump toward his front coat pocket… so I deposited the birr there. 

As I again tried moving towards the bus entrance a third beggar blocked my way.  This time I was too lazy to reach into my pockets for a few more birr so said, “No,” instead and tried walking around him.  But he was insistent and tried blocking my path.

To my surprise, a fellow bus passenger literally stepped between the two of us and knocked the beggar backwards and told him to leave me alone.  Which he did as I quickly ducked back into the bus.

Jesus always had time for people.  And compassion. Not I.

I’m a Bad Samaritan.

I Can’t Help You All, So I Don’t Think I’ll Help Anyone

Pressing physical need is everywhere. 

Today I was on a mini-bus ride.  We were stopped waiting for more passengers.  I was in the back minding my own business by a window seat when my window opened (from the outside) and several beggars started asking me for money.

Among them were a few healthy-looking kids and an elderly lady who appeared to be blind.  I gave the blind lady some birr and told the rest, “No,” and shut my window.  I also drew my curtains shut too.  Just like Jesus would have done.

I am particular about which beggars I give money to.  My style is to discriminate on health: if they look pathetic I give a few cents which won’t help them anyways, otherwise I hoard just like Jesus said to do.  Because, as we know, I’m a Bad Samaritan.

But back to the story, it wasn’t 30 seconds before my window was reopened and a number of hands were thrust through the curtain practically into my lap!  Good grief. 

I wanted to shout at the bus driver, “Could we please leave now?? Like, RIGHT now?!”

There were plenty of other people in the matatu but I was the only one being targeted.  Because I’m white, and everyone knows that white people are filthy rich.  I felt like Nemo surrounded by piranhas.

From outside I could hear murderous chanting of, “Farenge.” 

All this solicitation has got me thinking about what it must have been like for Jesus.  Then I remembered he had 12 burly bodyguards to keep the crowds at bay.

“I can’t fix all of Ethiopia with my loose change,”  I stewed to myself.  I’m not going to give them anymore, I’m sick of giving handouts.

Why didn’t anyone else on the mini-bus come to my help?  Why didn’t any of THEM help the beggars?

Finally I opened my curtain and a myriad of faces awaited me.  More kids.  Another lady.  The original blind woman now practically crying in her insistence I give her more cash.  I told them all to go away – I wasn’t giving anyone anything more period.  Just like Jesus would have said it.  And, unbelievably, they did leave me alone.

Yes, I’m a Bad Samaritan.

Invisible Lazarus Becomes Visible

Everyone has a story.  Kids walk up and give me their story.  Are they true?  Who knows. 

Back at home I never liked handing out money directly to people who asked because I didn’t know what they would do with it.  Instead, it seemed better to give something tangible (like food).  Having said that, think I’ve only ever bought food for one person back in the States. 

HERE though, the kids oftentimes don’t even ask for money, they ask for food in the first place.  And they are happy to walk me to a nearby bakery or restaurant or street vendor.

In fact, these last couple days in Lalibela I had kids eat with me almost every meal.  Not that I really wanted them to, but invariably wherever I went I attracted a string of kid-followers.  All of them want something from me.  When mealtimes came I wanted to eat, but what was I supposed to do?  Have them sit outside the door (or by the window) and salivate over my food while they themselves are famishing hungry?  Or worse yet, have them come inside, sit down, and study my every bite?  No, I just invite them in and buy them some food too.  It’s cheap anyways.

Being in Ethiopia has frequently reminded me of the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man.  Jesus said the Rich Man ate in luxury while Lazarus sat outside his door wishing for crumbs.   Apparently, the Rich Man never even bothered to give crumbs. It’s sobering how, in the story, the fortunes of these two individuals were reversed in the afterlife.

Did Lazarus go to hell because of failing to give charity? Was his lack of good deeds what sent him to hell? No, it was his attitude towards God that sent him to hell. But his attitude towards God affected his actions towards the less fortunate.

The book I’m reading now, The Reason For God, makes the point that God doesn’t send anyone to hell, people choose to go there of their own free will. And they continue to choose staying there. He says the afterlife is but a continuing trajectory of the path we begin in this life.

Even looking further at the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man it could be noted the Rich Man never asks to be let out of hell. He instead tries getting Lazarus to run an errand for him (revealing a lack of humility in viewing Lazarus as a nobody) and also shifts blame of his being in hell to God for not giving enough warning.

In short, the Rich Mans attitude in hell seems to be about the same as his attitude back on earth: on the arrogant and haughty side.

Keller writes,

The people in hell are miserable… raging like unchecked flames their pride, their paranoia, their self-pity, their certainty that everyone else is wrong, that everyone else is an idiot! All their humility is gone, and thus so is their sanity.

They are utterly, finally locked in a prison of their own self-centeredness, and their pride progressively expands into a bigger and bigger mushroom cloud. They continue to go to pieces forever, blaming everyone but themselves.

That is why it is a travesty to picture God casting people into a pit who are crying “I’m sorry! Let me out!” The people on the bus from hell in Lewis’s parable would rather have their “freedom,” as they define it, than salvation. Their delusion is that, if they glorified God, they would somehow lose power and freedom, but in a supreme and tragic irony, their choice has ruined their own potential for greatness.

Hell is, as Lewis says, “the greatest monument to human freedom.” As Romans 1:24 says, God “gave them up to…their desires.”

All God does in the end with people is give them what they most want, including freedom from himself. What could be more fair than that?

Lewis writes:

“There are only two kinds of people – those who say “Thy will be done” to God or those to whom God in the end says, “Thy will be done.” All that are in Hell choose it. Without that self-choice it wouldn’t be hell. No soul that seriously and constantly desires joy will ever miss it.”

(The Reason for God by Timothy Keller, pg 79)

These are hard sayings, especially considering I see the same arrogance of the Rich Man in my own life. Being here in Ethiopia puts a mirror to my own face in revealing my often unloving attitude towards the less fortunate. Especially since they are the very ones I’m presumably here to help! I have to ask myself, “Which trajectory am I on, really?”

Sure, sometimes I do help gracefully and sometimes I am nice and take the demands with humor and grace, but more often I’m peeved and wish they would all get lost and/or take a hike.

Perhaps that is one of the benefits of traveling in an impoverished area: the mirror effect. Back home Lazarus is hidden; over here he’s out in the open. Here, Lazarus often takes the form of a young boy in tattered clothing following me around pleading, “Farange, I’m so hungry!  Could you buy me a piece of bread?”

I find any time I’m put into new testing situations it reveals more black yuckiness in my heart. Yet perhaps acknowledging that is a good first step towards resolving it. You can’t fix a problem you don’t know exists, right?

Final Note

I don’t want to give the impression that all I deal with is beggars and kids harassing me or that I’m having a horrible time.  Not true. 

It’s just that the negative points of travelling are what stick in my memory the strongest and – perhaps – make the more interesting stories to relate.

Sundry Pics from Egypt and Ethiopia

Tombs of Mohammed’s Family – Cairo, Egypt

Tombs of Mohamads Family From Outside

Mohammed Family Tombs

  Ceiling of Tomb

These tombs are located in an obscure crypt located within the City of the Dead in Cairo.  A local guy from that city took me in his old beat up pickup truck.

Mr. Welsh & Mr. Poland – My Travelling Companions in Egypto

Matt and Nick in Dahab

Nick and Tomasz

Matt and I both rendezvoused in Eliat, Israel before entering Egypt.  We hit town the same evening and amazingly upon showing up (neither of us having hotel reservations) we ended in the same hostel – in the same dorm room!  Not planned, and we didn’t even know until that night when we saw each other.  Especially odd considering there were a plethora of hostels in the neighborhood to choose from. 

But then Matt and I split again and crossed into Egypt independently on separate days (Matt wanted to go a day earlier). 

Since crossing borders is always an adventure, this resulted in us both having unique adventures.  Turns out Matt ended up spending a night as the only tourist in a Bedouin camp when he couldn’t find through transportation.  Later we met up again in Dahab, Egypt but this time we didn’t have the fortune to pick the same hostel… ended up at opposite sides of town.  But after a couple days later Matt moved over to my hostel.  So we were travelling together, kinda.

Regardless, Matt and I did have a great time together and one day the two of us went snorkeling and Matt stepped on a sea urchin and got thorny spines all over the top AND bottom of of his foot!  Ouch.  What’s worse is it was later that night we hiked up Mt. Sinai… hehe.

So then I went on to Cairo and Matt back to Israel.  But after a a few days I took an antiquated train up to Alexandria where, lo and behold – who was waiting for me at the station but good ol’ Poland himself!!  Mr. Tomasz.  The two of us then explored Alexandria and Western Egypt together.

Guess I’ll always remember taking an overnight bus ride with Tomasz from Alexandria to the Siwa Oasis.  During the night as we crossed the desert and temps inside the bus got downright frigid and neither of us could sleep well.  Every now and again I’d look out the window and see this full moon lighting up the dune landscape in amazing detail.  I remember thinking, “We’d better not have bus trouble because we are at the back side of nowhere.”

At pre-dawn we pulled into our destination – this hole in the wall small town called Siwa.  Both of us were bleary-eyed as we stumbled from the bus, but no time to sit around, we had to navigate to find a hotel.  Found one Tomasz had in mind but it was locked up.  So I called the owner and woke him.  He came down and unlocked the door – checked us in.  Tomasz and I groggily found our way to a third floor room.  There were two beds, and immediately we both crashed to sleep without unpacking or anything.  We were just soo tired.   

When I did the reverse overnight bus ride (by myself this time, straight back to Cairo) I brought my sleeping bag onboard the bus and snuggled into it for the night and slept quite soundly.  Upon arriving at the Cairo bus station at the crack of dawn I was immediately thrust into the non-stop nutty traffic and forced to navigate across the city via subway, etc. but, unlike before, I wasn’t so tired and was able to hit the ground running.   

Citadel – Cairo, Egypt

Massive ancient fortress; replete with several mosques within the compound.  I visited this briefly one day while in Cairo. 

Mosque Courtyard

Prayer Calling Seat for the Iman

Men Praying in Mosque

From the ramparts of the Citadel was a striking view of Cairo with the Giza Pyramids outside town in the desert:

Pyramids Across Cairo Skyline

Here is another skyline photo below, check out how many minarets there are… The “call to prayer” time in Cairo is ridiculously obnoxious (at least from my limited perspective as an infiedel) with the nonstop cacophony of a ka-billion discordant singers through squawking megaphones.

Minarets in Cairo

The Nile / Sailing a Felucca – Cairo, Egypt

The Nile

Felucca Sail

Sailing a Felucca

I was walking along the Nile river and saw these Felucca’s just aching to be sailed. 

There was a guy sitting on a park bench up by the main road offering rides for 100 EGP ($17).  I sat on the bench beside him for awhile and thought about it – watching the boats and the Nile. 

Finally I decided to walk down and look at the boats up close.  There was another man down by the boats so I asked him how much a ride would cost?  He said 50 EGP for an hour.  Whatta deal!  Half what the first guy offered, so I told him I’d do it.

To my chagrin, Mr. Cheapo hollered up to Mr. Expensivo guy on the picnic bench to come on down as they had a customer.  Turns out Mr. Expensivo was the captain who took me on my ride.  Slightly awkward.  The fellow who offered me the half off rate was the boat manager and didn’t care much about the Captain getting a tip.

Felucca Captian

Another thing I saw walking along the boardwalk was a hip café where apparently all the guys take their girlfriends.  Reminded me of the “dating room” at BJU I’ve heard about.

Couples Hanging Out by the Nile

The Famous Egypt Museum – Tahrir Square – Cairo, Egypt

The Famous Egyptian Musuem in Tahrir Square

It looks nicer on the outside than the inside.  The exhibits are poorly labeled (or not labeled) and it has the feel of a musty old warehouse.  Outside touts are swarming about, seeking whom they may swindle a dollar from.  No joke, I was outright lied to by touts.  For instance, one of them insisted the museum was closed to individuals right now and only groups could enter (not true).  Then he suggested that while I was waiting maybe I could go see his shop?  I forget what I told him, but it wasn’t what I wanted to tell him, that’s for sure. 

I find there are many times (like even today) I think rotten things in my head I wish to tell annoying touts that somehow gets filtered to comments fairly civil by the time the words exit my mouth.  I guess that’s progress, but it would be better if I were less bitter towards them in the first place.  They’re just trying to make a living.  Dishonestly is all.

Addis Ababa, Ethiopia

Friends I made in Addis.  The guy with his arm around me, Abraham, is someone I hung out with for a several days and even later met his Dad in Bahir Dar. 

Drogba Nick Abraham Simon

Did you know that in Ethiopia it is normal for guys to walk around hand-in-hand to show friendship?  Seemed wrong to me, but that’s what they do.

Lake Tana – Bahir Dar, Ethiopia

Lake Tana is the lake where the headwaters of the Blue Nile comes from.  Tana also has a number of islands with ancient monasteries on them.  I took a boat trip out on the lake to visit several of the monasteries.  The lake was cool, but the monasteries weren’t much to write home about: big circular huts that didn’t look that old. 

I thought the papyrus boats were the most interesting part.  That, and taking our boat up the first bit of the Blue Nile river.

Lake Tana Island

Lake Tana - Papyrus Boats

Lake Tana Papyrus Boat

Lake Tana Kids on Papyrus Boat

Lake Tana Monastery Dock

Lake Tana Monastery Deacon

Lake Tana No Entrance

I don’t endorse the “No Lady” entrance above.  Just found it interesting.  Several of the monasteries were open to men only. 

Honestly, I feel that much of what I saw of Orthodoxy in Ethiopia was counter to teachings in the Bible.  Crosses are everywhere (including at the top of the sign above), but I feel the symbology is too often misused.

Blue Nile / Birds / Hippos – Bahir Dar, Ethiopia

Blue Nile Early Morning

Blue Nile Birds

Hippo in the Blue Nile

Hippos Kissing in the Blue Nile

Tis Issat Falls – Tis Abay, Ethiopia

Tis Issat Falls March 2012

John the Guide

Tis Issat Falls with Boys

The kids above are eating sugar cane, a popular snack.

As far as touristy type things go, Tis Issat Falls was the coolest thing I saw in Ethiopia.  The waterfall was thunderously loud and impressive and shot out mist a long ways and probably ruined my white T-shirt.  And this is the dry season… in the rainy season I was told everything is far more impressive.

Not as large as Niagara Falls, Blue Nile Falls more than makes up for it by its’ remote location.  The Falls are in the middle of nowhere, a bouncy 45 minute ride from the nearest town (Bahir Dar) on dirt roads.  During the couple hours I hiked around the falls I was the only foreign person I saw.

Not to mention…. notice how there are no rails at the top like at Niagara?  Not as much safety stuff.  Not to mention I even went swimming down in the pool at the bottom which I’m sure isn’t allowed at Niagara Falls.

The Rock-Hewn Churches – Lalibela, Ethiopia

Eleven massive churches have been chiseled from single large pieces of rock.  They date back to the 12th and 13th centuries.  Here are pictures I took of two of them:

Rock Hewn Church at Lalibela

Women Praying at Rock Hewn Church

Inside the church’s were massive vaulted ceilings with perfectly formed arches inlaid with designs.  All this chiseled from one piece of rock!  No room for mistakes.  I was impressed.

Arches Inside Church 

Ceremony at Rock-Hewn Churches Celebrating St. Mary’s Day

One thing to remember about the town of Lalibela (pop. ~14,000) is that it is located at the backside of nowhere.  About a two hour drive on dirt roads from the nearest sketchy paved road in northern Ethiopia.

So this is the real deal and many of the local houses are made from earth and sticks.  Coming to Lalibela in some ways feels like stepping backwards in history a millennium.

The day I was visiting the churches there were many people praying and worshipping because it was St. Mary’s Day.  From what I gathered they have Saint’s Days quite regularly. 

But their carrying on wasn’t only for show because there were hardly any other tourists.  It’s just what they do.  Tradition.

Priests Reading and Singing

Men Singing

Perhaps the High Priest

Man Reading

Women at Church

Woman at Church

Walking Sticks

Funeral in Lalibela

During my time in Lalibela there was a funeral.  I took some pictures of the processional from an adjoining hill (that was also part of the cemetery).  I was wandering around out there seeing what I might see and lo and behold I saw a funeral procession.

What you can’t hear from the pictures is the continual trumpet blasts and literal screaming by certain mourners.  As Christians I thought we were supposed to have hope for the future?  Maybe screaming is therapeutic.

Funeral Sepia

Funeral Procession

Some Fellow Tourists

Two Gentleman Chaps

These old boys were travelling together.  Maybe they were brothers?  Often I would see them deep in discussion about some particular point of interest.  This made me wish I had a travelling companion myself. 

Maybe when I’m old and grey like these guys I can go on a trip with my brothers to exotic places like Lalibela, eh?

And Finally… Avocado Fruit Juice!

IMG_7063

This has become an addiction for me.  Every restaurant I visit the first thing I do is ask if they have Avocado Fruit Juice.  Most don’t.  But this one did.  It’s scrumptiously healthily sugarly deliciously wonderful.  Says I.

On the Move

Had an interesting experience the last two days… took a long trip via the back of a transport truck. Got on about 8am yesterday morning in Moyale and was dropped off 7am this morning in Isiolo.

That’s a long time on the top of (and sleeping inside) the back of a truck!

Here is a picture of my truck:


The inside was loaded with bags of corn, three levels deep. Made a pretty comfortable bed for sleeping:


The road wasn’t the greatest. In fact, the first 14 hours or so was on one of the worst dirt tracks I’ve ever been on. I was told the road had been impassable the last couple weeks because of rain, but they’re letting traffic through again.

There were literally hours where we were moving as slow as a walking speed – all the time being jounced around like we were riding a mechanical bull.

Most of the time I spent perched up on top the roll cage. At the start we had 18 up there, but by the evening it was just down to 5 of us.

When you’re sitting up there the seat is just hard metal pipe so not too comfy, but the view is great. The bad part of being up so high is every bump gets amplified by the truck swaying in a big arc.

As miserable as it sounds (and parts of it were), all in all it was a blast! and probably the closest thing I’ll ever experience to a stage-coach ride or covered wagon. Felt like I was on the Oregon trail.


Most of the scenery was flat savannah and unfortunately I didn’t see any elephants or such but there were plenty of camels and some monkeys. Of course lots of cattle with nomadic herders.

I watched both the sunset and the sunrise the next morning. Sat out late last night watching the stars and contemplating existence while the truck toiled ever onwards through rugged bush, rocking back and forth over the crazy rutted dirt track we were following. There were no city lights and I felt to be finally somewhere totally remote.

Have Kenya, Will Internet

Just arrived in Kenya and lo and behold internet here actually works. Wow, this is new. It’s been awhile since I’ve been online. Which hasn’t hurt me…. plus, it was fun getting a batch of e-mails at once! Thanks to those who wrote.

The last several Ethiopian towns have struck out connection-wise. In Konso I didn’t see any internet cafes, in Yebelo there were three: the first was closed, the second told me they had disconnected their internet but were planning to setup again in two more weeks, the third was out of operation. Then I got to Moyale (Ethiopian side) and it looked like a pretty good size town (pop ~25,000) but unfortunately electricity was off for the whole city.

I asked someone how long it would take for power to get up and get going again. He didn’t know: “Sometimes it’s out for hours, sometimes for days.” ok.

But here, a quarter mile over on the Kenyan side, power works just fine… even though I’m apparently nearly 400 miles from the nearest paved Kenyan road.

There have been plenty of adventures since I’ve written last, of course. Spent a week with a missionary family down in SW Ethiopia which was a lot of fun. Visited sundry ministries in Addis. Write more about all that later.

Wildlife-wise I’ve seen baboons, crocodiles, zebras, and surprisingly, quite a few camels.

I’m getting a little tired of traveling. Even exotic travel as I’m doing. For instance, travel yesterday morning started about 5:30am crossing the Omo river via boat. Then Land Cruiser five hours (mostly on dirt tracks and gravel roads – sometimes criscrossing through native tribal towns), then three more hours on rough dirt roads in the front cab of an Isuzu pickup truck. This morning started about 5:30am again with a three hour ride in a 12-passenger mini-bus taxi. Think I’ll stay here in Moyale one night because the next leg to Marasbit is about nine hours all on rough road and I’m ready for a short break.

Ethiopia was fun, and the people were (for the most part) helpful and friendly, but I didn’t feel bad about leaving. To be honest, the people often got on my nerves. I know that doesn’t sound Christian, but it’s how I feel.

There is a lot of talk about not making cultural faux pas when traveling, but I found Ethiopians have a habit of committing reverse faux pas around me.

For instance, giving me no privacy (which is considered rude by Western standards or at least by my standards). Yesterday at lunch one of the workers sat down at my table and wanted to talk while I was trying to eat. He even took the liberty to brush ash off my injera with his bare (unwashed) hands. Then when I was done he started scraping dregs of ‘wat” out of my wat-dish and put them on my plate (see Ethi cuisine). Please, I just wanted to be left alone. Can a guy eat in peace and quiet? No. And also, is it possible for them to get a bathroom put together that works? No. There will always be a toilet that leaks, or a sink that doesn’t work, or knobs hanging half off, or no water, and always no toilet paper.

But it’s all good. I’m just learning people in other places are very different from home.

Societal norms are very different too. Within the tribes out here in the bush the kids run naked and the women go topless. Not to mention the great out of doors is the toilet and the the river is the bathtub. Different than home, that’s for sure. The men carry around a head rest for sleeping (or sitting). Of all the accouterments to carry around, this one is essential so their hair (which is carefully decorated with baked in clay) won’t get messed up.

Have I been learning anything? Yes. Many things. For one, I have lots of new ideas of what I want to try doing in the future from what I’ve seen others involved with. In that way I’ve been inspired.

But also I feel I’m nearing the end of the “seeing” stage and am ready to stick somewhere a little longer term than a couple weeks or months. It’s frustrating not being fully apart of anything. To not be fully invested somewhere. Of course, that’s why I left: being tired of the “rut.”

Anywho, will try to write more later. Not sure what to write about exactly, maybe if someone has a question they could ask it in the comments section and I’ll try answering it later.

I’ve been taking pictures but don’t have a way to upload them.

From Fish to Freedom – Tis Issat Falls

If yesterday was a disappointment, today more than made up for it.

It began at 5:30am when I woke up for an early morning stroll down to the river (about a mile away) to see if I could spot any hippos. In the pre-dawn there were already quite a few people gathering water in buckets for the days usage by the Bahir Dar bridge. An AK-47 wielding security guard wasn’t keen on me taking pictures at the bridge (he thought I was a spy) so for a moment I thought I wouldn’t get to see the hippos afterall. But a friendly Ethiopian named “Freedom” saved the day by offering to show me hippos. Off we trekked upstream a ways over rocky boulders. I was surprised how well he moved considering he had a bad limp from being shot in the leg during the Ethiopian-Eritrea conflict. There was a great spot of rocks that jutted out into the river where we spent about an hour watching hippos splash around and blow blasts of watery-mist in the air as the sun slowly rose over the dusky African bush. Could hear them grunting too, though he assured me hippos are quite safe and never bother the villagers. That was reassuring until he told me there are crocodiles too and they aren’t safe at all. Whatta deal. I got some pictures but can’t put them online until I have wi-fi on my laptop.

This hippo adventure was followed by an egg-sandwich breakfast back in town at a local cafe and then a walk to the bus station. It wouldn’t be right to stay in one place long. The point of traveling is to travel.

After locating the right bus to Tis Issat falls, I entered the crazy thing and waited. When the bus filled up (many moons later) we took off. The relic belched black smoke like it ran on coal. Folks inside had pretty amazing costumes too. I finally felt like I was in Africa proper. Many were wrapped in blanket garb holding their trusty ol’ stick; not unlike Rafiki in the Lion King.

Usually when I travel via bus the luggage carriers up top hold smart-looking backpacks. On this trip they were filled with burlap sacks of produce and dusty old plastic water buckets.

After an hour-long journey of jarring along on dirt roads – passing through multiple mud-hut villages – we arrived. I declined the guides who flocked to my aid (since I was the only white person on the full bus I was the primary target). I declined the guides because my official Lonely Planet guidebook said they were unnecessary. One persistent teenager (John) decided to guide me anyways, even with no promised fee (he wasn’t an official guide, just a kid who lived in the Tis Issat village). Turns out he was the best guide I’ve had so far in my journeys – at the end I paid him the guide service fee which he was happy about (and I’m sure gunning for the whole time).

Hiking around the falls took several hours. I was the only “farenge” there which made the experience that more authentic. The falls are pretty stupendous.

Highlights of the trek included: 1) drinking coffee in a mud hut with locals – a little boy was scared of me and ran out 2) walking across the dizzying gorge on a swinging footbridge 3) watching the thunderous water plummet 100+ feet to a pool below 3) swimming in said pool 4) seeing the very tree the Mysteries of the Nile film crew tied their ropes to when rappelling down the falls in the movie 5) crossing the Blue Nile river upstream of the falls in a motor launch.

Getting to know my guide John was rewarding too, he was a helpful and knowledgeable fellow. Humble. 16 years old. Had a great attitude. And he was all for jumping in and swimming. Twas a hot day.

The bus ride back was slightly packed. First, the regular seats filled up (if 3 to a seat can be considered regular). Then the middle aisle filled up with people standing. I was sitting towards the back and the bus had both a back and front door. When the aisle filled up people began loading into the area where the stairs are at the front and back entrances. Then we took off.

But! there were more people along the road who also wished to catch a ride. Of course we picked them up too. I didn’t see how another body could fit in the bus, but every time we stopped and the doors opened everyone would just skoosh inwards a little and the next stick-wielding bushman hopped in. Incredible.

A college aged guy I was sitting next to had the name of Fish (what’s with the weird names today? First Freedom, and then Fish!?) He turned out to be good company. We jawed for nearly an hour before the bus embarked, then hollored at each other over the noisy babble and blaring Ethiopian pop songs on the jouncy ride home, then grabbed some supper together at a local pizzeria (I chose pizza over Ethi-cuisine as I’ve eaten my share of Ethi food lately… plus I was paying). Couldn’t believe Fish had never eaten a piece of pizza before in his entire life. And he still hasn’t, because he got spaghetti and wouldn’t try a piece of my cheese pizza as cheese isn’t on his diet for some special religious holiday he is currently celebrating. I think the religious holiday is Easter. Though I don’t remember anywhere in the Bible it saying I can’t t eat pizza just because Christ resurrected from the dead.

Fish and I then ran around town doing a few errands like buying Bibles from the Bible Society of Ethiopia (one of which I gave to Fish) and getting transportation lined up for me tomorrow to Lalibela. This was followed by meeting up with the Dad of a guy I had randomly met in Addis. This father-guy met us at a local cafe for a coke and turns out he was the nicest Ethiopian I’ve met so far! A highly educated man, he is a veterinarian and also a lay pastor to boot. A Christian, he converted from the ubiquitous Greek Orthodox Church to faith in Jesus a number of years ago. Now his entire family also believes in Jesus. He has traveled too, having lived in Russia 6 years at one time. Fish, the veterinarian, and I had a great visit – the vet guy even began witnessing to my Fish about Jesus Christ! Had Fish lookup certain references in his new Bible.

It seems a strange life I live.

Finally, everyone left to go back to their respective homes. And now I too, after having duly recorded the days proceedings for the benefit of mankind and future progeny, am heading towards crashing in bed after another eventful day.

Catching a bus to Lalibela 7am tomorrow.

Hope this post wasn’t too boring.

Caveat Emptor

If I visit India someday, I think I’ll skip seeing the Taj Mahal. I pretty much have grown to despise touristy stuff. Whether America or Tim-Buck-Two, can we please get off the beaten track?

I’m currently in Bahir Dar, a city on the edge of Lake Tana in the Ethiopian Highlands.

THE Lake Tana that is the source of the Blue Nile.
THE Lake Tana that is dotted with islands (wherein reside ancient monasteries).
THE Lake Tana shown on the movie Mysteries of the Nile.

Yesterday when I arrived I was quite proud of myself for avoiding all the hotel hustlers at the bus station. But then later I was got by another young Ethiopian man at my hotel who setup the tour I did today to the monasteries on the lake.

He was an “in-between person,” what is commonly called a “tout.” Touts are the ones who arrange tours and take a commission off the top. I didn’t think he was a tout because he basically said he wasn’t. He said he was the boat operator. And here I thought I was getting good at spotting these leaches, but he was smooth.

On whole, the trip today went fine, and if this man had been totally honest I would have been quite the happy camper. Honest, his dishonesty didn’t help him at all, and it just made me upset. Of all sins, I think lying is the worst one.

When I was at the holocaust museum in Jerusalem (Yad Vashem) I remember they said it was easy to get the Jews to walk into the gas chambers because they lied to them, telling them they were going into a communal shower to get washed up.

The only bad thing that happened to me is I lost out on some money so I shouldn’t be upset about that as I have enough. Not to mention the whole trip today was still under $50, which is a good deal for what all I got to do and see. But it’s the principal of being deceived that makes me angry.

First thing (which I didn’t find out until later) was he charged me about three times too much for the trip. I was proud of myself for having haggled him down from 450 birr to 300 birr (300 birr is about $18). But…! come to find out, I could easily have gone with another outfit for only 100 birr.

Then, he told me this was a REALLY good time to visit the monasteries because there was a big festival going on today. If I went the next day (which I was planning to do) I would miss the whole thing. Complete lie. Only thing close to that was someone had died on one of the islands and the museum there was closed!

He guaranteed lunch was included in the price. Again, false. I paid for lunch (the tour guide was nowhere to be seen during lunch).

He promised there were TWO other tourists coming with me. False. There was only ONE other tourist, an Ethiopian.

He said he would pick me up at 8:30am today. He showed up at 7:40am at the cafe where I was trying to have a nice relaxing breakfast alone. He then proceeded to sit down at my table and bother me through the entire meal trying to sell me more trips (which I declined, finally suspecting the guy for who he was).

He said the trip would last until 3:00pm. We were done by 1:00pm.

He wasn’t even correct about little things like the HP on the boat, which he claimed was 9.9. It was 25.

Lastly, and the BIGGEST thing he outright lied about was when I asked him point blank if there were any additional hidden fees or expenses. He said no. I asked about tips and he hemmed and hawed and said if I wanted to give a tip to someone I could but they were optional. So my 300 was all inclusive. Boat ride. Lunch. Monastery entrances.

So, was that true? Absolutely not. At each of the five monasteries we visited there was an entrance fee! 100 birr at each location.

Not to mention there was a mandatory guide required at one who charged another 45 birr. This isn’t counting the tips which were expected.

I’ve wanted to visit Lake Tana for a long time. Today I got to. On the lake we boated up to the headwaters of the Blue Nile River. Went up the river a ways even. That was amazing (even though I didn’t see a Hippo). It was especially cool because several weeks ago I was in Alexandria, the exit of the Nile where it slips into the Mediterranean Sea. So I’ve now been to both the start and finish of the longest river in the world: the Nile. Over 4,000 miles long.

BUT, the whole time out today I was irritated. I tried really hard to forget it and enjoy my time, but each priest who asked me to cough up yet another 100 birr for the sake of Mary so I could walk into one more round thatch-roofed hut they called a monastery (where I wasn’t even allowed inside to the most holy-of-holies) I remembered how this was supposed to be an all-inclusive package.

Honestly, it feels that everyone around me today has been hitting me up for money: a tip for this, a fee for that, etc. No joke, the first words I heard out of a humans mouth this morning was from the cleaning lady at my hotel: “Money!” Taken aback, and still bleary eyed, I asked, “What?” She repeated, more insistently, “Money!!”

Today on the boat I remembered Jesus’ words about how if we don’t forgive when people sin against us, our Heavenly Father won’t forgive our sins against him. So I tried to forgive the young guy who had been so deceptive. Yet I still felt angry. Is it possible to forgive and feel angry at the same time?

I was telling my friend Marshal how I had to firmly explain to one insistent local how I am NOT a bank. Marshal told me he has seen a T-Shirt that reads, “I’m Not a Bank.”

Because I am a foreigner, I am assumed to be rich. In particular, because I am a white foreigner I am assumed to be rich. In Haiti people called me “Blan” and demanded money. In Ethiopia I’m called “Ferenge” and hit up for money.

Marshal told me there is another T-Shirt that reads, “My name is not Ferenge.” I’ve been called Ferenge so many times in the last week I’ve lost count.

Of course there is also the more ubiquitous, “YOU!” I’m also called. Kids run along behind, “You! You! You! Give money!”

Being seen only as an object is dehumanizing. I think I realize a little better now how women may feel if a man treats treat them as an object.

It hurts my feelings to be treated kindly only for my money. There has been instance after instance where people appear to be different, to be truly friendly, then turns out they were only more sneaky in how they pilfered my cash.

I’m often asked what I’m learning in my travels. One thing I’m learning is to be mighty suspicious of man-kind. It’s got to where I consider everyone I meet as a lying thief until proven otherwise. In short, I’m becoming cynical of humans.

So this post wasn’t very uplifting, but that’s how I feel.

Yesterday I did meet one nice guy who seemed genuinely friendly (code: he hasn’t asked me for anything yet). Turns out his brother worked with the Mysteries of the Nile film crew. His brother even accompanied the crew on their entire three-month journey! He said his brother was the only local from Bahir-Dar that went, was hired based on his kayaking skills and because he spoke Italian.

Did his brother REALLY work with the film crew? Does he even have a brother? Who knows. But I’m suspicious.

Begging the Issue

Been walking the streets of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia for five days now.

What to do with the beggars? They are everywhere, sitting in their misery with hands stretched out. Some blind, some deaf, others with deformed limbs, swollen extremities and missing appendages… others hunchback bent over double, some old and toothless, some women young with baby. It’s all quite disturbing.

“Give to the one who asks you,” Jesus said (Matthew 5:42). Is holding ones hand out considered as asking? Because if it is, walking down the street here is a full time job in giving.

For the beggars I feel sympathy and compassion, but also feel sick they’re forced to trade dignity for food. Saw a young guy today who looked healthy except for one leg was deformed. He was begging. I got angry. Why do you want me to treat you as charity? Why give up your dignity when you could fight your handicap? I know, easy for me to say.

I found out about a program here in Addis that offers reduced priced meals. You can buy meal tickets to this ministry (Hope Enterprise) for 1 birr each (about 6 US cents). I’ve bought several hundred of them – seems to be a handy thing to give out to beggars. Sometimes they don’t know what I’m giving them and look confused – I try to explain. Other times, they look excited.

But the needs don’t stop with beggars. Let’s talk street kids. I could talk stats, and I saw online an estimate of 50,000 in Addis, but it hits home closer when you meet them.

Filthy. Tattered rags. Skinny. Sores. Walk beside you, point to their bare feet, their scanty clothing, ask you to do something. You do something, they want you to do more somethings. Where does it stop? I can’t help them all. Can I even help some?

I’ve met people in Addis. People on the street. Randomly got plugged into a group of college kids. They want me to start a non-profit sponsorship ministry for street kids. One of them grew up as an orphan. He’s married now with a baby boy. He wants to partner with me to help street kids.

I’ve been in Addis five days.

Sahara-Ho!

When I think desert, I think sand.  In particular, sand dunes.

In Israel I never saw sand dunes.  Neither the Judean Desert nor the Negev had the type of desert I consider proper. 

But thanks be, finally I saw the real deal at the Siwa oasis.  Siwa is located in the heart of the Sahara, about 150 miles from any major town.  While the area around the springs are fairly lush, it doesn’t take much of a walk before you’re into the outback.  In Egypt, once you go East or West of the Nile river you’re into desert, as the satellite photo below shows.

Siwa is a long way from Nowhere

Yesterday Tomasz and I hiked about 12 miles around Siwa…  on this hike we tramped through town, across the desert, over sand dunes, then had lunch and took a nap in the midst of this remote sand-swept Sahara. 

On our circuitous route home we traipsed across salt-encrusted wastelands, leaped irrigation ditches, trekked through cool palm-tree forests, and finished off with a swim in the salty oasis.  Quite a day. 

Nick and Tomasz

The heat, wind, sand, and walking was wipeout tiring, but I still say it beat a day at the office.

The Siwa Oasis itself is more of a lake than a pretty little well surrounded by palm fronds, like I imagined a proper oasis to be (my impressions no doubt tainted from Kings Quest V). 

The lake itself is below sea level and quite salty, though freshwater abounds in the marshes nearby.  Tomasz and I were surprised to find we floated about the same in this lake as we did in the Dead Sea.

Siwa Oasis

Out in the desert, the scenery was breathtaking.  So far in my travels I think it is the most exotic place I’ve been.  Knowing this was the real deal, the real Sahara, made it all the more surreal. 

Tomasz Walking

Climbing a dune is more difficult than it looks.  I was always huffing and puffing by the top of one.  Believe it or not, I saw snowboards for rent in town…  not for snow of course, but for sand dunes!  It looked fun, but also looked dangerous.

Up a Dune 1Up a Dune 2

Being out in such large open spaces brings a bit of a lonesome feeling.  When I got up after my nap break there was sand built up around my backpack from the wind, and sand in my clothes.  Made me realize one single person is insignificant next to this vast tract of bleak, inhospitable wasteland. 

It’s said an entire Persian army sent by Cyrus the Great, 50,000 strong, was headed toward Siwa to capture it when they totally disappeared, swallowed up by the desert.  Recently their bodies have been found.

The Sahara is a Big Place

My archeology research wasn’t quite so impressive, but I did come across a bunch of bullets.  Not casings, but the actual bullets.  Most were old and rusty, but some were quite recent with no corrosion.

Bullets

But back to my point above regarding the lonesome feeling in being so long a ways from no-where, I found comfort in remembering God still has tabs on me.  I don’t believe anything escapes his notice.

“How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.”
(Psalm 139:17-18)

10 Experiences from Egypt

Right now I’m at the Siwa Oasis – about fifty miles from the Libyan border.  See map below, which shows the 1,000 mile route I’ve taken so far since entering Egypt.  From Taba (the border of Israel) down to Dahab, then on to Cairo, Alexandria, and now Siwa.  All Egypt is desert except along the Nile and the scattered oasis’s.

My Bus Route through Egypt

Here are some events that have happened or things I’ve observed since posting on here last, in no particular order.

1) Visiting the world famous Cairo Museum.  It may be world famous, but the inside resembles more of a musty old storage warehouse than anything else: thick layers of dust, poor lighting, and many exhibits unmarked.  However, I was happy to see King Tut’s golden mask and sarcophagus, as well as a bunch of mummies. 

I didn’t see King Tut himself, but amazingly did see both his mother and grandmother.  While some mummies look like freak props out of a horror flick, it is surprising to see others remarkably well preserved.  For instance, King Tut’s grandmother Queen Tiye had more hair left on her at the ripe age of 3,402 then some people do at the ripe age of 100.  Here she is:

Tiye

The craziest thing about Queen Tiye (I thought) was how she was just laid out in this old glass/wood box that looked like something I could have cobbled together!  No sealed, air conditioned exhibit case for her.  The pride and care the Egyptians take of their antiquities is astounding.  I’ve heard this lack of concern is partially to be blamed because modern Egyptians aren’t descendants of the ancients, but that may not be true.

2) Had multiple locals try to scam me and also openly lie, which has been upsetting.  The good news is the Berbers out here in western Egypt are honest folk.  They are restoring some of the faith in this country I had hitherto lost.

3) Spent a couple days at the port city of Alexandria.  There I visited an ancient Roman amphitheater (and stood right where the gladiators of old enacted their macabre deeds), the mighty Citadel fortress guarding the harbor (and explored the ramparts and towers therein), the underground catacombs, and the massive Alexandrian library (which replaced the famous one burnt to the ground back in the 3rd century).  In the Alexandrian library I saw a section of Louis L’amour books, which convinced me the new library is most likely superior to the old.

4) Have observed abject poverty and squalor… some places coming close to rivaling Port-au Prince (my gold standard for misery).  I’ve seen areas pictures wouldn’t do justice, and that couldn’t be appreciated unless you visited them yourself.  Also, many buildings in Cairo and Alexandria are old and crumbling apart while the occupants remain inside!  I saw one occupied high-rise apartment building leaning at a pronounced angle!  Not safe. 

5) Have walked through crowded, tight little streets.  One I was walking yesterday was lined with open market stalls and jam packed with two-way car traffic, two-way animal cart traffic, thousands of pedestrians, and two-way tram lines!  All this in a street half the width of Maize back home.  Incredible.  At one point I saw a man with his back to the street (not a good idea) looking over a table of merchandise when a car literally backed into him, squeezing his legs against the table.  Luckily the car wasn’t moving fast, and when it moved forward again the man was released and seemed to be OK, just quite angry and telling the driver what for.

6) Hardly seen any Westerners (except at the Pyramids).  The tourists I do see are mainly Egyptian.  These Egyptian tourists are nice enough, and, believe it or not, frequently want to have their picture taken with me.  This has happened quite a few times.  Celebrity status is a new one…  Maybe I should start charging money.  Once, to be funny, Tomasz and I stepped into the edge of a group picture Egyptian tourists were posing for.  They all seemed to think this was quite hilarious and moved us to the center of their group so we could be front stage in their photo!

6) Played soccer with a group of teenage locals I ran into on the street.  That was fun, except my team lost.  The game ended by my shooting on goal and the goalie deflecting it into the Mediterranean sea!  I was glad they recovered it without incident.  Before I left, they wanted a photo-shoot:

Playing Soccer with Egyptian Youth

7) Astoundingly inexpensive food.  Here are two examples, for the mathematically inclined:

Ex 1: This morning I purchased a stack of ten pieces of pita bread hot right out of the oven for only 1/2 EGP (9 cents).  Then a bunch of cheese for 6 EGP (50 cents).  That fed Tomasz and I both lunch and supper today, for the grand total of 59 cents!  Granted, the meals weren’t balanced, but we were both stuffed for both meals.

Ex 2: Foul (pronounced “fool”) is something like a bean burrito you can buy in cafes here.  They only cost 1 EGP (9 cents).  A nice supper of three fouls and a can of coca-cola fills me up and only costs 6 EGP total (about 1 US dollar).

How in the world food can be sold so cheap is beyond me.  I’m guessing it has to do with gasoline being ridiculously cheap.  Which reminds me that I heard the #1 money maker for Egypt is tourism, followed by #2 money maker being fees on the Suez Canal, followed by #3 being oil exports.  None of those three they have to work for much.  If gasoline prices ever go up, I’m afraid the millions who live in poverty here will hurting worse.

8 ) Hearing the call to prayer multiple times a day.  This evening Tomasz and I climbed up high to see the sunset… then the deafening call to prayer began from the loudspeakers of every minaret in town and we decided the calamituitous noise was more impressive than the sunset, though it too was impressive: 

Mosque Sunset

9) Travelling by every which way of locomotion.  So far in Egypt I’ve been transported on tram, subway, train, bus, shuttle, taxi, camel, horse, and my own two feet… I leave the country by plane.

Horse Riding in the Sinai

10) Sights I’m not used to seeing…

1) All the women wear head shawls in public: some covering just their hair, some covering all their face except the eyes, and some (the Berbers here out west) covering their entire face – these latter resemble wraiths.  Here is a picture of the “slit-for-my-eyes” variety:

Veiled Woman in Dahab

2) Women talking on their cell phones hands free… by sticking the phone into their head shawls! 

(I don’t have a picture of the hands free head shawl trick, but here is a picture of two Berber men jabbering away)

Two Men Talking on Cell Phones

3) Donkey carts everywhere… they look fun

Donkey Cart

4) Men dressed up funny-like…

Robed Guys

5) Restaurant chain spinoffs…

Pizza Hot

Ok, sorry for the abrupt ending, but it’s late now – so that’s my update!

Visiting the Pyramids of Giza

Today I had quite the adventure… I went to visit the pyramids.

First let me talk about Cairo.  It is a pretty amazing place.  A mass of humanity, something to the tune of 17 million.  I suppose it’s like New York City that never sleeps, where the horns never stop, where multitudes of people are constantly milling about everywhere, and in short, a pulsating mass of activity.  Not for the faint of heart, but supposedly one of the safest big cities in Africa.  They say pickpocketing and getting scammed is common enough, but violent crimes are relatively rare.  One thing that has surprised me is the beggars.  I’ve seen a lady with a deformed hand, a guy who had serious problems, another guy who appeared to be blind, etc.  In America, these types of cases are in hospitals, not lying by the side of the road with their hands out.  On another note, the bazaars here are something else: the sensory overload of walking through one is overwhelming: cars, motorbikes, blaring horns, trash, vendors, and the ubiquitous masses of people.  It’s like the Damascus Gate in Jerusalem on steroids.

Ok, back to the pyramids.  Because visiting them is as much an exercise in wading neck deep through commercialization as it is being awed at the site itself, I thought I’d start this post off with a break-down of the cost of my trip today.  Maybe it will be helpful to some traveler who stumbles across my blog.

Item Cost
Metro 1
Taxi 1 10
Taxi 2  15
Entry Fee 60
First Guide 20
Camel Ride 145
Tea 10
Can of Coke 5
Donations 4
Taxi 3 20
Metro 1
KFC 13
   
Total EGP 304
Total US Dollars $50.66

To put the cost of 304 EGP in perspective, I talked with an Irish lad the other day who, like me, went by himself to see the pyramids.  He spent 250 EGP just on transportation, then another 750 EGP on a camel ride – so it can easily cost more.  He told me at the end he was so upset he wasn’t speaking.  But Irish are known to have an unusual-sharp temper anyway.

I guarantee you my Irish friend didn’t get to see as much cool stuff as I did.  For one thing, I saw the inside of a pyramid many people don’t even know they can visit!  More on that later.

But first off, it’s easy to get frustrated in Egypt by how everyone is out to get your money.  We take trust for granted in the US, but – not to be too harsh – here trust seems to be a precious rare commodity.  Wariness has become the watchword for me.  I dislike being suspicious of others, and usually I’m a pretty trusting guy, but I’ve got to the point I don’t trust anyone in Egypt.  Even this guy last night who, during his spiel, told me he was an honest Christian.  I asked him if he was going to church this Sunda (today) and he said no.  He also told me a taxi to the pyramids from the metro would cost 50 pounds when in actuality it costs under 20.  So much for honesty. 

I’ve only been in the country a week, but I’m already getting savvy to their tricks.  Basically, the rule of thumb is that anyone who approaches you to make chitchat or offer help is just trying to make a buck off your ignorance, at the best – or at the worst, an outright con.  It’s always a bad idea to stop and look like you’re lost, or to consult a map, or to acknowledge the existence of anyone who wants to talk with you.  Sounds rude, but it’s true.  I’ve got to where I keep a pair of headphones in my ears, walk quick, and kindly brush anybody off who wants to talk with me by ignoring them, but if that doesn’t work I give them a friendly wave of my hand, a smile, and a polite, “La Shukran” (No Thanks) while I continue walking.  Even then, some are persistent and will walk along for awhile.  In Dahab I’ve had shop owners place themselves up the street and then start walking along with you and making idle chit-chat as if they are a fellow tourist, then when we get up to their shop they are like, “Oh, what do you know, here we are at my shop, do please come in!”  One guy add the twist, “I have a guest book in my shop that you MUST sign!”  No thanks.  

The exception to all this shameless baloney is the people who I have approached asking for information.  To a man, they have all been genuinely friendly and helpful.  So I’m thinking the average Egyptian is indeed a nice chap, it’s just the minority of their entrepreneur minded peers that ruins the overall image. 

Ok, on to the story of the pyramids.  Just getting there was an adventure.  Riding the metro out to the Giza plateau, brushing past all the Pyramid scammers waiting for suckers like me at the metro exit, hailing a taxi from the street, weaving through insane Cairo traffic, having the taxi get a flat tire in the middle of the road, switching to another driver, having that guy make a phone call to his camel buddies to tell them I was coming, stopping to talk with said buddies who insisted I take a camel ride from THEM and me flatly refusing, all that to finally arrive at Giza!

After buying a ticket, I entered the grounds.  I was immediately approached by an official looking man asking to see my ticket.  He took it and then proceeded to tell me I had to get a camel or horse ride in order to see the pyramids.  I told him I just wanted to walk and he said I couldn’t, it was against the rules.  He told me he was not lying, he was not affiliated with the stables, he was in fact the Pyramid police. 

Of course, this was all bluff and I’d already been tipped off to this particular scam by reading ahead online.  I pointed out to this “policeman” the other tourists who were walking around and he said they were only walking in this little overlook area and would not be allowed up to the pyramids unless they paid for a ride.  I said I only wanted to walk around in this little area too, would he please give me my ticket back? (which he did) and then I left him as politely as I could, though by the end he was quite angry with me for all my pains to be polite.

The first stop on the grounds was the Sphinx, but in order to get up to it one first has to walk through an aisle of tourist shops about a football field long.  No joke, we’re out in the desert and there is this long line of tents hawking wares on both sides.  I walked through the aisle fast, keeping my earbuds in and pretending I couldn’t hear any of their begging for me to come look at their stuff.

Finally!  The Sphinx!  I walked up as close as I thought I could, but then a friendly official man (let’s call him Mustafa) told me my ticket included entrance to get up closer.  Wary, I entered, and turns out he was honest.  Finally, perhaps someone I could trust? 

So I entered this courtyard and joined a tour group to listen in.  (Yes, there were other tourists here)  Not much interesting to see, so I turned to leave when another man stopped me and told me there was more around the corner.  Was he trustworthy?  Turns out he was, around the corner was a great view of the Sphinx from up high! 

Cool, but then this man noticed my shirt read, “Dahab” on it and proceeded to tell me his wife’s brother lived in Dahab and his name was Mohammad and did I know him?  Why yes, of course I’m sure I ran into him.  “Then would you please like to buy some of these trinkets I’m selling?”  And so it continued…

The Sphinx IS pretty incredible.  The Sphinx is buried about halfway below the level of the ground, but they have excavated down to the base.  You can tell that lower on the statue is well-preserved.  At the base that used to be far underground, you can still see the original paving stones.  The face is most eroded, and they have a bunch of contraptions mounted on it to repair or preserve it or something.  Makes the Sphinx look like it has chicken pox. 

While other tourists snapped an inordinate amount of pictures, I sat there admiring it quietly, thinking about the people who built such a monolith in this desert wasteland some 4,500 years before.  Ever since I was a little kid I’ve always wanted to visit the pyramids and the Sphinx.  Egyptology has always held a mysterious fascination with me.

Finally I left the Sphinx.  As I was leaving, Mustafa, the original official looking helpful guy who had let me in proffered for free that my ticket also included a look at the catacombs.  I was suspicious, but followed him around the corner to an area that at first glance looked cordoned off, but actually wasn’t.  Sure enough, there is a large area of tombs cut into the rocks (perhaps ten acres?) at the base of the pyramids that are called the catacombs.  Tourists were on on horses and camels along the roads on the outside of the catacomb, but I didn’t see anyone in the catacombs area.  But this man led me up to the first one and we looked into this cave area where there were original hieroglyphics etched in stone and little cave openings where dead people had been buried.  It was pretty amazing.

Of course I knew this guy was going to want money, so I nipped it in the bud and told him I didn’t have much to pay him (which was more or less true, I hadn’t brought tons of cash with me).  Anyways, he could tell I wasn’t the average tourist because I had brought nothing with me: no camera, no backpack, no water bottle, nothing (of course I had wallet and passport in my pockets, but nothing visible).  The point is, I don’t think I looked that rich.  And honestly, Mustafa genuinely seemed interested in just introducing people to more than what they usually see.  He told me that was fine if I didn’t have money, I was free to look around for myself, but he would like at least a little dough for what he had shown me so far… I gave him a 20 spot for his trouble (about $3) and he went back to the Sphinx.

Ok, so this catacombs area was about the coolest thing ever.  There were totally no tourists here – not that I was in any danger of getting lost as I was right in between two roads, but as long as I stayed down in the cutout rocks nobody bothered me and I could explore to my hearts content.  So I wandered all around… through little aisles running ever which way, tunnels going here and there, tombs in little caves, shafts that dropped down into labyrinths below, hieroglyphics everywhere, including sculpted paleo-Egyptians, rock hewn rectangular tombs, etc.  It was incredible.  I wasn’t in any danger of getting lost because I could clearly see all the tourists on the roads, and also I was careful to follow the rule of not going anywhere I couldn’t easily come back out of.  But it was still plenty adventurous as there were places that were dark and I had to use my flashlight.  It totally felt like Indiana Jones as I blew sandy dust off old rock-hewn box-tombs and examined the mysterious symbols beneath.  A common motif was the All-Seeing Eye (found on our $1 bill).  Also I saw the sun God Isis – the same god mentioned in the Zietgiest movie I blogged about recently.  I’m pretty sure that some of the symbols were etched into gold overlaid on the rock – they were shiny and yellow anyways.  Also, in one little room I entered, all the walls and ceiling reflected shiny specks which was pretty.

Before I came I had read online that the pyramids are often an anti-climax for visitors when they realize there isn’t much to see and it’s just an over-commercialized trap.  But I found it plenty exciting.

When I had worked my way incognito-like through the catacombs almost all the way up to the base of the pyramids, I was finally routed out by one of the workers who told me I wasn’t allowed in that area (even though I’d been told by Mustafa I was) and to please come back on the road.  Obligingly I did, without arguing, seeing as I had already explored pretty much the whole thing.  If only I’d had a rope ladder I could have dropped down into some shafts that were about ten feet deep and explored where they turned horizontal to who knows where.  Though at one point I did find myself at the bottom of a deep shaft that went up about 40’ feet.

So back on the road, I merged in with a group of Egyptian tourists who were walking up to the Middle pyramid.  I was wondering a little when I noticed the only tourists up by the pyramids were Egyptian, not a single white person there.  I wondered if perhaps you needed connections to get up that close?  I don’t know, anyways, I was able to get right up to the base, though I didn’t climb up, because that’s not allowed.  Though one annoying guy told me his dad or grandpa or something was a pyramid climbing fool who could get to the top in seven minutes, and for the right fee I too would be taken to the top.  I got rid of that guy.

As I sat at the base of the pyramid, looking up in wonderment at its ancient grandeur, a camel guy named Abdul started pestering me.  He offered a camel ride starting at 300 and when I informed him I wasn’t interested, he kept coming down.  While I sat there continuing to refuse, he went on down to 60 pounds.  This was really a good price and since I was pretty dusty and hot and tired and didn’t feel like walking back anyhow, I caved and accepted, against my better judgment. 

Taking the camel ride turned out to be a good decision though, even if I paid 145 pounds at the end (through high pressure guilt) and not the initial 60 pounds agreed upon.  Still, 145 pounds is only some $20 US which for a an hour long camel ride around the pyramids… I can’t complain.  Also, it was nice knowing the money was going directly to a camel guy and not to five middle men (like my taxi driver who was hoping to make a cut off me through his buddies).

Abdul and I rode on the same camel out to the far end of know-where-ville where he showed me six more smaller pyramids and also we got an amazing view of the three big ones.  I think he was flabbergasted I didn’t have a camera with me.  My reasoning on this issue was there are plenty of pictures of the pyramids already, I wanted to see them for myself.  Plus, I was trying to keep as low a tourist profile as possible.  That’s why I didn’t bring a backpack either.

We stopped the camel for a break out on top of this sand dune on the border of the Sahara.  Abdul and myself joined a group of three Egyptian guards sitting around a campfire – they put a teapot of water on the fire and boiled up some Egyptian tea.  Quite nice chaps, and a great view of the pyramids, the desert, and smoggy Cairo in the distance.  While we were sitting around the call to prayer started up in Cairo and we could clearly hear the noise wafting to us from over the desert dunes.

Abdul seemed to be a good egg.  The camel was his own that he had bought three years ago.  Each day he takes it back to his home to care for it and then rides it out again to the pyramids in the morning.  He said a camel costs about 10,000 EGP (about $1500). 

Riding back to the Sphinx, Abdul informed me my ticket included entry to one of the smaller pyramids.  There is no way I would have known that on my own! 

So we stopped the camel by that pyramid and I went in.  There was a steep hallway proceeding downwards at perhaps a 45 degree angle.  It went a long ways down, I’m guessing to the center of the pyramid, underneath the peak.  The hallway wasn’t tall, and you had to duck your head as you clambered down.  At the bottom you took a right turn through a passageway into a square-shaped room, and in the center of that room was a mummy-shaped enclave chiseled into the rock.  Pretty amazing, though the sarcophagus was long gone.  It was even cooler as I was the only one in there.  Perched up on a stone shelf about twenty feet over the sarcophagus rock, I popped open a Coca Cola I’d bought up at the top (while still on my camel in fact, I had Abdul ride over to this guy selling pop out of a cooler in the middle of the desert and bought one from him without even dismounting) and wondered if that tomb had ever had a can of Coke popped open in it before?  If the mummy were still in there, I bet it would have rolled over.

Coming back to my hostel was taxis and metro in reverse.  You wouldn’t believe the traffic here in Cairo.  It’s not as bad as Port-au Prince, Haiti, but it’s mighty close.  There doesn’t appear to be traffic rules or official lanes.  Just a big free for all.

One funny thing that happened yesterday was my driver needed a light for his cigarette, and asked me for one.  I didn’t have a lighter with me, so this guy got one from a neighboring car!  As he was jostling through traffic, shooting through gaps I didn’t think humanly possible, he also somehow managed to signal to a nearby vehicle that he was in desperate need of a smoke and they passed him a lighter through the window.  He lit up and gave the lighter back through the window; I was impressed.

Speaking of traffic, crossing the street here is something else.  The right of way goes to traffic, not pedestrians.  I wait to cross a street until the traffic clears at least a bit, but I’ve seen others walk straight into a flowing stream of vehicles and just begin dodging between some six lanes of traffic in a hair raising, death-defying stunt.  Yesterday, my taxi driver nearly hit several people.  One in particular I’ll remember for awhile.  He had quite the shocked expression right before he literally leaped backwards out of the way. 

Anyways, I’m glad to be back at my hostel relaxing.  Travelling can be a lot of work.  Thankfully there is a Kentucky Fried Chicken right around the corner.

There are more stories, but I’m getting tired writing them, and I’m sure you’re getting tired reading them.

Climbing Mount Sinai

The most recent adventure around here has been hiking up Mount Sinai with my Welsh companion Matt. 

We went with a tour group leaving from our hostel.  The cost for going was $15 – that included round-trip transportation, a guide, and admission costs (everything, as we found out, but the fees for using the bathroom).

Our trip started at 11pm last night.  The green taxi below picked us up.  The Japanese fellow already onboard is one of my bunkmates and was quite sleepy.  In preparation for climbing the mountain, he had drunk many bottles of beer.  Why? I don’t know.

Dahab Taxi

So we were taken by taxi to a mini-bus shuttle (think 15-passenger van) and off we headed across the Sinai Peninsula to St. Catherine’s monastery.

The drive took about three hours, including several lengthy stops at security checkpoints.

Around 2am we arrived and started the trek up the mountain, along with about 100 other tourists.  That is probably only a fraction of the tourists who usually make the trek, but if solitude was any type of goal, 100 is still too many. 

Matt and I were assigned a local guide and put into a small group of eight.  Represented among us were nationalities from USA, Canada, Taiwan, Japan, German, and Wales.  Later, an older Dutch man joined our group after his group left him in the dust.  He wasn’t with us long though as we soon left him in the dust as well.  Poor guy.

The trek up to the peak took our group two hours.  The elevation is 7,500 feet.  Not super high, but I saw snow up there, and it was cold. I was wearing six layers…  far cry from earlier in the day when Matt and I had been comfortably snorkeling in the Red Sea.

From the moment we arrived at the base of the mountain we were faced with shameless commercialization.  I wasn’t out of the car five seconds before wares were being hawked in my face. 

I discovered the big thing Bedouins try selling at Mount Sinai is a camel ride to the top.  About every ten steps we were pestered by yet another Bedouin standing by his camel asking if we would care for a ride?  They would strategically place themselves at the top of every difficult stretch.  There were enough camels amassed on the mountain to easily transport a small army.

I was constantly barraged with yet ever more solicitations: “Sure you don’t want a camel ride now?”  And their sales tactics were on the shameless side… our guide practically raced up the mountain; I’m convinced he was purposely trying to wear us out such that we would purchase a camel ride.  Two hours is a long time to hike straight up the side of a mountain at breakneck speed!  We did take several breaks, and at each break they tried selling us more stuff. As it turned out, there was no big rush to reach the top as we arrived a full hour and a half before sunrise.

Here are some tourists availing themselves of the camel riding service on the way down:

Tourists on Camels

I didn’t ride a camel.  I don’t think Moses rode a camel.  But the prices were right.  I was offered a ride for as little as five dollars!  Or if I only wanted my picture on one, as little as one dollar.

They tried selling tea to me all the way up too (as well as Snickers bars), but I held out until the top.  It was cold up there, and a hot drink hit the spot, though the price tag was gouging.  Luckily I’d brought my own Snickers bar.  A bad taste was left in my mouth though after they made a stink about how one in our group hadn’t paid for their tea – I volunteered to be the sacrificial lamb who paid twice, covering the transgressions of the Judas and silencing the murmurings of the Bedouins.

The moon was full as we walked up the steep mountain.  The desert was bright and I felt like I was living Arabian nights.  The terrain was just exactly like the Wichita Mountains. I was expecting one single mountain rising from the valley floor, but nothing further could be true. Mount Sinai (at least the Mount Sinai I climbed) is only one in a series of rugged peaks surrounded by canyons, gulches, and steep, rocky terrain.  

So like I mentioned already, our guide rushed up to beat the band.  We passed a number of other slow-poke groups as well as constantly scuttling around camels.  I got bumped by a camel once or twice as they take up more than their fair share of the trail.  Getting stuck behind a camel is like getting stuck behind a semi-trailer on the highway.  You’ve constantly trying to peer around their backside to see if there’s room to scamper past.

Up close, camels are taller than I remembered.  Of course, never having seen a camel up close, my memory isn’t that good.  These camels stood much much taller than me, and were intimidating.  Especially when they nearly ran me over.  Their legs are long and gangly, while their hooves resemble soft massive pads.  Unlike a horse, their walking gait follows a lilting back and forth motion as they lift up both feet on each side at the same time, followed by their two feet on the other side. 

There is a nice chapel at the top. Thankfully, it’s closed to the public. I’ve seen too many chapels.

From up there, we shivered an hour waiting for sunrise.  Or at least, some of us watched the sunrise.  Others, after having scaled the summit in the dark, turned around and headed straight back down in the dark! They missed the glorious breaking of dawn!  Oh, the capriciousness of some.

Sunrise was beautiful. 

Sunrise from on top Mount Sinai

For the record, here are Matt and I on top:

Nick and Matt on top of Mount Sinai

The emphasis on the Biblical importance of Mount Sinai by our guide was… how shall I put this?  negligible?  non-existent? 

Yet what should I have expected? I’m in Egypt, and this is Mount Sinai I’m visiting. The very Mount Sinai that was the Israelites first stop out of Egypt-town as they wished good riddance to Pharaoh and his minions.

But regarding the educational aspect of the tour.  Our Bedouin guide knew absolutely nothing about Mount Sinai except how to race up it like a Billy goat.  And that his family had lived as nomads in the area for five hundred years.  Before making a living off out-of-shape tourists needing a Snickers bar and camel lift, I have no idea what his family did to survive in this desolate wasteland. 

Among other things our guide didn’t know, the age of St. Catherine’s was one of them.  This was the first question I posed, and he just shrugged his shoulders and told me it was old. Turns out he was right, I could see as much.

At the top, wheezing and sputtering, we had lots of time to kill (on account of our group having arrived in such record time). Matt began debating whether it was appropriate to sneak a smoke?  I told him it wouldn’t be the first time fire had rested on this mountain, and that it would probably be OK.  He agreed and lit up. 

I used the time to read in the Bible about the giving of the 10 Commandments by God to Moses.  Matt wanted to know if smoking was a sin?  I assured him it wasn’t. At lesat, it wasn’t one of the Big Ten. Sin aside, he already knows my opinion about the health risks.

The story of Mount Sinai doesn’t begin with the 10 Commandments, but with God meeting with Moses in a burning bush that didn’t burn up. In an area devoid of firewood, I could see how this type of bush would be a serious boon to the local economy. 

“Now Moses was tending the flock of Jethro his father-in-law, the priest of Midian, and he led the flock to the far side of the desert and came to Horeb, the mountain of God. 

There the angel of the LORD appeared to him in flames of fire from within a bush. Moses saw that though the bush was on fire it did not burn up. So Moses thought, ‘I will go over and see this strange sight-why the bush does not burn up.’” (Exodus 3:1-2)

Amazingly, they still have that same bush down in the monastery.  Lucky for the monkish business, it never burnt up and is on display to this day.

In the passage above, I find it interesting Mount Sinai is called the “Mountain of God.”  It sure is a barren mountain.  And this is where God met Moses in the bush, and where God later led the Israelites to receive the Law.  I had the thought that God often meets us in the barren places, where he has our attention and only He gets the glory.

But continuing with the story… as you remember, Moses resisted his calling, but God promised Moses a sign:

And God said, "I will be with you. And this will be the sign to you that it is I who have sent you: When you have brought the people out of Egypt, you will worship God on this mountain.  (Exodus 3:11-12)

Fast forward to the Israelites leaving Egypt.  As promised by God, they returned to this very mountain to worship God.

Then Moses went up to God, and the LORD called to him from the mountain and said,

"This is what you are to say to the house of Jacob and what you are to tell the people of Israel: You yourselves have seen what I did to Egypt, and how I carried you on eagles’ wings and brought you to myself.  Now if you obey me fully and keep my covenant, then out of all nations you will be my treasured possession. Although the whole earth is mine, you will be for me a kingdom of priests and a holy nation.”

So Moses went back and summoned the elders of the people and set before them all the words the LORD had commanded him to speak.

The people all responded together, "We will do everything the LORD has said."  (Exodus 19)

There seems to be a close link between obedience and worship.  The Israelites worshipped the Lord that day through pledging their obedience.  Unfortunately, not too much later they were worshipping a golden calf instead. 

Probably a lesson is in here somewhere.  Maybe one lesson is to keep our eyes on God because it’s easy to worship for awhile and pledge our obedience, but it requires sobriety and steadfastness to follow God for the long-haul.

As I climbed up the mountain, I of course had to think about how there was a time when God had said anyone who touched this mountain would die (man or beast).  And now here I was, not only touching the mountain, but merrily skipping right up to the tippy top!

Fortunately, we are under a New Covenant now.  The writer of Hebrews paints a striking picture of the contrasts between the terror of the Old Covenant, represented by Mount Sinai, with the joy of the New Covenant, sealed in Christ Jesus. 

I’ll end this post with these words and sober warning from Hebrews:

You have not come to a mountain that can be touched and that is burning with fire; to darkness, gloom and storm; to a trumpet blast or to such a voice speaking words that those who heard it begged that no further word be spoken to them, because they could not bear what was commanded: "If even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stoned."

The sight was so terrifying that Moses said, "I am trembling with fear."

But you have come to Mount Zion, to the heavenly Jerusalem, the city of the living God. You have come to thousands upon thousands of angels in joyful assembly, to the church of the firstborn, whose names are written in heaven. You have come to God, the judge of all men, to the spirits of righteous men made perfect, to Jesus the mediator of a new covenant, and to the sprinkled blood that speaks a better word than the blood of Abel.

See to it that you do not refuse him who speaks. If they did not escape when they refused him who warned them on earth, how much less will we, if we turn away from him who warns us from heaven?

At that time his voice shook the earth, but now he has promised, "Once more I will shake not only the earth but also the heavens." (Hebrew 12)

Local Bedouins

Bartering in Dahab

Tourism is down here in Egypt.  This translates into 1) good prices 2) not much of a crowd and 3) individualized attention.

These all sound positive, but each have a negative too.  Take the individualized attention, for instance.  You can’t walk five feet without having someone try selling you something.  Good prices sound good, but it is bad for the locals.  Local store owners find themselves in a catch-22: desperately needing business so having to offer dirt cheap prices to stay competitive.  But since they badly need money now they try selling at even higher prices than normal to stay in business.  This translates into a lot of shameless “bait and switch.”  They’ll call out a low-ball price on something as you walk by on the street, but the second you give them the time of day the prices goes up ten-fold.

I’ve heard in Arab countries bartering is the norm.  So I was prepared for some good-natured back and forth.  However, I was not prepared for the level of persistence I’m badgered with for my business here.

Granted, the town I’m in, Dahab, is touristy.  But it gets old when nearly every shop and restaurant I pass results in me being hounded by the owner.  It’s over the top from anything I’ve experienced before.  Woe be to the person who has the gumption to enter anywhere! it will be difficult for them to exit without buying something.  Thankfully there are exceptions, but they are exceptions. 

Like I mentioned in my last post, prices here for everything (from food to lodging to adventure sports) are all cheap.  The sobering side is the sellers are desperate for business!  The Egyptian Revolution has put a whompus on tourism, and I think most here are hurting financially.  There ARE tourists in Dahab, but I’m betting the town is running around 10-20% capacity, and I’ve been told the last two months were even more dead than now. 

Regarding prices, at first I thought all the bartering was good natured, but I’m beginning to realize there’s more to it than what appears on the surface…  I may be a dense and gullible westerner, but I’m starting to feel sorry for these folks. I think they genuinely just want a customer… so they can put food on the table for their own families.

I stopped to inquire about the cost of a hamburger and the shop owner next door took the opportunity of me stopping to practically drag me into his clothing shop.  He was good-natured about it, but he REALLY wanted me to buy something.  He had some really cool stuff, so I was a sucker and ended up walking out of there with both a "Dahab” hoody and t-shirt.  I know I could have haggled him down further, but was embarrassed to go down below fair USA prices knowing how bad the situation is here.  As it was, we went down to half the price he initially was asking (and I hate haggling!)  The interesting thing to me was how sooo very happy this man (Mohammed) was I had bought something – he was practically jumping up and down!  I think we are friends for life now.

This situation is a buyers market, if you want to haggle down to the lowest dollar, one can go down a looong ways down.  I’ve seen this.

I saw one tourist barter down an item that would have cost $30 in the US from a not-so-bad starting price of $15 to about $8 (all the haggling done in Egyptian Pounds of course, but I’m converting to US currency for the benefit of the gentle reader).  At one point the shop owner began telling this guy, “Hey, at this price you win!” and, “Be reasonable,” etc – statements that may have been a ploy, but at these prices I was tempted to believe him.  Then the price went a bit lower and finally the owner got angry and said, “I don’t won’t sell it to you! and I won’t sell it to you!” and wanted him to leave.

Head scarves around here are pretty popular.  I thought it might be nice to get one, they’re ubiquitous in the touristy shops.  I’ve seen them hawked for as low as $2 (12 EGP).  So I stopped at one place and the guy showed me his scarves, then when we got around to price he started at $30! (180 EGP)  I was like, “You’ve got to be kidding.” 

I didn’t even feel like haggling if we were going to start at such a ridiculous price, but he wasn’t about to let me leave his shop, so after going back and forth awhile we got all the way down to $4, and I agreed to buy it for that, but this guy was persistent.  He now wanted me to buy two head scarves.  I tried explaining I didn’t have room in my pack, bla bla, but it was like talking to a brick wall. 

The odd thing was he wasn’t confrontational or annoying, it was like he was pleading.  And I could tell he was a nice guy.  Finally I was like, “Hey! I’m only going to buy one, but I’ll pay a bit more for it, say 30 EGP?” (about five dollars)  Then I put my arm on his shoulder and asked what his situation was?  At this his mask dropped and he started treating me more like a human.  He just sighed real big and told me there is hardly any business – he hadn’t made money today.  Apparently I was his first customer (and this was around 9pm).  I felt pretty bad, the revolution hasn’t been good for the tourist traps.  I’ve even heard a number of places have plain gone out of business.

So anyways, those are a few thoughts, for what they’re worth.

First Day in Egypt

After getting a passport photo from a local camera shop in Eilat, applying for a visa at the Egyptian Consulate and waiting a few hours for the paperwork to get processed, I was finally cleared for entry to Egypt!

After catching a local bus to the border crossing at Taba, paying the Israeli exit fee, having my backpack sifted through by bored Egyptian guards (a security check wouldn’t be considered thorough without first figuring out how all the different modes work on my flashlight!), I was finally IN Egypt!

Welcome to Egypt

After entering, I was immediately accosted by mini-bus drivers.  I had been informed it was best to take the real bus as it would be much less expensive than the mini-bus taxis (maybe safer too?). 

Though persistent, they were surprisingly respectful.  Some drivers spoke English, so I inquired directions to the bus terminal (I knew it was close by).  Finally, to get them off my back as much as anything, I agreed to have one drive me to the bus terminal for a dollar. 

They were all insisting the bus was not running anymore and I HAD to take a mini bus.  I didn’t believe them.  My friend Tomasz (who got to Egypt several weeks ago) told me in a recent an e-mail to ignore the mini-bus drivers no matter what they told me and take the real bus instead.  I didn’t want to travel 90 miles by taxi.

At the nearby bus terminal I met two other tourists standing around with their mini-bus driver.  These tourists were a cheerful couple from Malta who spoke impeccable English.  I pulled them aside to have a little pow-wow. 

“Do you think they’re telling the truth about the buses not running anymore?” I asked.  The guy answered he wasn’t sure, but was beginning to think they were.

Turns out one of the drivers agreed to take us down to Dahab for about $16 each.  That sounded like a good deal to us, considering it was nearly a two hour drive.  A fight did nearly erupt between the two drivers, but we drove off into the sunset before it got too bad.

Our driver, Suleiman, turned out to be a nice chap, and seemed legit.  He had a business card with a telephone number and offered drive us other places like St. Catherine’s or what-not if we wanted to in the future.

The back story on the young Maltan coupple was they ran a souviner shop back in Malta and travelled during the low season.  One year they travelled across Africa, one year they travelled across South America.  This year they were doing countries in the Middle East.  They had already been to Morocco, Israel, and Jordan.

Our driver, Suleiman, stopped the van at a scenic overlook to say his prayers to Allah.  He told us we could take pictures of the Red Sea.  I took one of him too.

Red Sea

Praying Toward Mecca

So as it turns out, the drivers were telling us the truth about the busses.  The workers on East Delta bus lines have been on strike eight days now. 

I thought it was pretty funny how my Maltan friends told me they didn’t believe it at first and waited at the bus station for over an hour, apparently all the while being badgered by drivers telling them it was futile. 

The Maltans said they began wondering if the drivers were honest when one of them, in frustration, raised his arms to the sky and swore by God he was telling them the truth. 

Anyhow, Dahab is quite the interesting tourist town.  Seems it is some sorta premier spot for watersports like diving, snorkeling, windsurfing, kite-surfing, etc.  Not to mention desert tours, camel trips, and who knows what all.  The brochure map I have lists around thirty scuba dive shops alone!

Everything here seems quite inexpensive too.  I bought a large meal tonight at a sit down restaurant for $5.  It consisted of a heaping plate of grilled chicken wings, a soup, a salad, a side of rice and vegetables, and a pile of bread with delicious dipping sauce.

Touristy things are inexpensive too.  For instance, a snorkeling day trip costs $6.  That includes transportation to a nearby reef and the snorkeling equipment rental.  And my hostel is only $3 per night!  It’s not a bad place either, a sight nicer than the YWAM facilities I stayed at in Haiti.  Think I’ll move up to nicer accommodations tomorrow though – for this price, why not? 

Seeing the locals walk around in their flowing robes is different.  I’ve been to Arab towns in Israel and the West Bank, but generally there, they only wear the turbans and not the flowing robes.  Also see women completely covered except for a slit for their eyes.

Snow in Jerusalem!

Below are pictures I snapped yesterday morning. 

The first is on Jaffa road, a main walking thoroughfare through town.

This street is lined with shops and many of the store owners were standing out by their doors laughing.  It was a jolly atmosphere as I exchanged excited greetings with them: “Boker Tov – it’s SNOWING!”

Jaffa Street Snowy Jerusalem

Here are some Orthodox men chatting at the Wailing Wall.

Snow at the Western Wall

An Israeli youth throws snowballs at his friends with gusto.  Heck, I even got hit with a random one!

Israeli Youth Throwing Snowball

A miniature snowman built on top a pushcart in the Old City.

Snowman in Jerusalem

Where Are All the Workers?

More than just travelling, I am on a fact finding quest for what types of work God’s people are doing throughout the world.

The ministries I have seen so far are numerous, but they all boil down to one common theme: sharing Christ with others.  Distributing spiritual bread of life.  Some help physically as well, but all try to help spiritually.

Whenever I meet those who appear to have the hand of God working noticeably in their lives, I observe a common theme.  They all ask the same question, “Where are all the workers?”  They might even add, “Where are any workers?”

They say: “We need help!” 

They say: “We could use you to come volunteer with us… for a week, for a month, or even better…. (gasp) three months!”

They say, “If you would, please consider coming a year.”

But I’ve never yet heard anyone ask, “Would you consider coming the rest of your life?”  They already know the answer… very few want to commit long term.

I’ve seen another theme:  Those with the most fruit in their ministries are those who have stayed in one place long term.  If you plant a tree, it takes a while for it to mature where fruit appears.  And it takes longer before bunches of fruit regularly forms.  Maybe years.  I have been struck incredibly by this fact.

I encourage anyone to go and see the need first hand. If you don’t have the money for an expensive short terms missions trip, I would encourage you to travel independently and visit somewhere, it doesn’t have to cost that much. 

I’m compelled by the spiritual need I see. But I’m also compelled by the physical needs I see. Refugees with no home, job, or future. People who are thin and hungry. Destitute widows. Oppressed orphans. Children from the street.

I’ve met all these. To me, each of these issues has a face and a name. Each of these issues has looked me in the eyes and seen me as a source of hope. They all ask (literally), “Nick, when are you coming back?” And I move on.

Their eyes ask, “Would you please help … me?”

100_0132

I am having so many experiences it’s difficult to process them. But if I stop long and reflect, I just want to cry. I don’t even know where that girl currently is in the picture above. Her name is Yahnsomma, last news I heard she was missing.

Hiking in the Footsteps of Jesus

After walking from Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth up to Capernaum, I wonder if Jesus got blisters on his feet too?

Nazareth, Cana, Capernaum, Bethsaida, are towns I walked through on my 70 km (~40 mile) stroll through the Galilee on what is known as the “Jesus Trail.”  In short, I hiked from Nazareth to Bethsaida by way of the Sea of Galilee.

The trail itself intersects several national parks, winds through fields, runs up the Horns of Hittim, down the cliffs of Arbel, and follows small paths, old gravel roads, and occasionally modern blacktop.

I don’t think I’ll ever read the New Testament quite the same.  Now when I see passages like the following I’ll envision the surroundings:

“Once more he visited Cana in Galilee, where he had turned the water into wine. And there was a certain royal official whose son lay sick at Capernaum.” (John 4:46)

“Then he went down to Capernaum, a town in Galilee, and on the Sabbath began to teach the people.” (Luke 4:31)

“As Jesus was walking beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon called Peter and his brother Andrew. They were casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen.” (Matt 4:18)

“When the apostles returned, they reported to Jesus what they had done. Then he took them with him and they withdrew by themselves to a town called Bethsaida.” (Luke 9:10)

“Philip, like Andrew and Peter, was from the town of Bethsaida.” (John 1:44)

After walking this trail I have in my mind a good first-hand idea of how far it is between those towns mentioned. 

Examine the map below and you too will be just as informed as myself; using the mere effort of your eyeballs instead of your feet, like me.

I1     The Sea of Galilee is a lake, not much larger than Cheney back home (though prettier).  In fact, the scenery surrounding the lake is gorgeous (no comparison to Cheney). 

The Arbel cliffs loom above the landscape on the Northwest side – the dominating feature of the locale.  Jesus would have been familiar with them.  The view from the top overlooking the lake is incredible.

Arbels from Bethsaida

Arbel Cliffs

After admiring the view from the top of Arbel, I followed a steep path down the cliffs.  Halfway, there are cave dwellings cut into the rock that date to before Christ.  In fact, the dwellings were used by Jewish rebels during uprisings in both the AD 30s and 60s. I think.

Many of the towns I walked through were either Arab or Bedouin (including Nazareth and Cana).  In fact, Nazareth is the largest Arab town in Israel.  In light of all the gentiles living in the area of the Galilee now, I find the following prophetic passage from Isaiah interesting:

“In the past he humbled the land of Zebulun and the land of Naphtali, but in the future he will honor Galilee of the Gentiles, by the way of the sea, along the Jordan-“ (Isaiah 9:1)

Speaking of the Jordan, I saw it too, at least the upstream side North of the lake.  It resembles the Cowskin back home.  If I didn’t know better I wouldn’t be able to tell the Cowskin from the Jordan.  Perhaps the Jordan was larger back in the day.

Sign of River Jordan

River Jordan

Supposedly half the drinking water in Israel comes from the Sea of Galilee (which is fed by both springs and melting snow from Mount Herman).  This intensive water usage has lowered the water level.  Fortunately, there has been a lot of rain this past winter (I’ll take credit for that) and so it looks pretty normal now.  I hear that several years ago there were actually islands appearing out on the lake as the water dropped.

At first I wondered why I didn’t see any fishing boats on the lake, but then someone told me fishing as been banned the last few years to let the fish repopulate.

Beside the Sea of Galilee there are shrines located every ten feet to commemorate some famous something or other and to make a buck off gullible tourists.  Most of the sites are no doubt geographically spurious. 

Halfway up the Mount of Beatitudes – where Jesus supposedly delivered his famous Sermon on the Mount – I noticed there were hills surrounding me on all sides, and began wondering how “they” knew the speech was given on THIS particular mountain??  Even if it were, I wondered why he would need to walk to the VERY top – where the chapel was – to start talking? 

After going half a mile straight up, only me and two hardy Asian tourists with their cameras made it to the tippy peak (of the hordes milling around below by the tour busses). 

Tour Busses

After reaching the pinnacle, I couldn’t for the life of me figure out how to get into the manicured grounds of the gated cathedral, though I could hear cherubic singing emanating within.  In actuality, I found the residence NEXT to the cathedral more interesting. 

Run Down HouseAnother Church

Those two structural incongruities side by side seemed a fitting picture of the “World” in all its messiness outside an unapproachable “Church” where everyone inside supposedly has it together.  Those on the outside don’t have time for such uppity-ness, and those on the inside don’t have time for the outer rabble.  Truth be told, everyone is in the same boat as equal sinners before God. 

After giving up trying to enter the church, I began the long descent down, trying to get into the mood of what some have labeled Jesus’ Magna Carta, thinking what it would have been like to sit here and listen to Him teach.  Then I spied an unrobed bearded hobo-looking man at the waters edge taking his monthly bath.  This ruined the historic atmosphere, to say the least.

On my lengthy trek on the Jesus Trail, I passed many touristy places by.  Each one has an entrance fee, and all you usually see is some boring church edifice. 

For instance, somebody in the 4th century decided a certain house in Capernaum had been Peter’s, so built a church over it.  Then a millennium or two later the Muslim’s decided to build a mosque over that.  Now the original house is encrusted in so many layers of religiostic baubles I decided to pass by and save my shekels for cans of Coca-cola instead.

In Cana, I saw a sign advertising water just like the water Jesus used to make wine.  My backpack was already too heavy, or I would have bought some in a heartbeat. 

Special Cana Water

But a different miracle happened in Cana, of sorts.  I was walking by a scrumptious smelling bakery when the proprietor (an Arab man) spied me and began enticing me into his store with warm entreaties, in the persistant manner they are wont to do in the Middle East.  Usually I desist, but the chocolate filled croissants inside were calling my name, so I succumbed. 

After entering, he asked me where I was from and what I was doing.  I told him.  Then behold, amazement upon amazement, he began to fill a bag with pastries, even chocolate ones – giving them to me refusing any pay!  Whatta guy.  Whatta Cana.  I’ve never in all my born days seen such generosity.  He bid me adieu, and off I went a very grateful camper.  May a blessing come to that man and his extended family and progeny to the tenth generation.

Cana Today

On the outskirts of Cana I met two Arab men returning home from work (one of them from a chicken factory).  We began talking about the Jesus trail, and they told me they were both Muslims, though they believed in Yeshuah (Jesus) as a good prophet.  I mentioned to them Yeshuah himself had said, “I am the way, the truth, and the life, no one comes to the Father except through me.” 

One of them didn’t speak good English so his friend was translating and after I finished the first bit (about Jesus being the way, the truth, and the life) the non English-speaker got his dander up and didn’t want me to continue, but his friend was curious what else Yeshuah said so bid me resume, and I added that bit about no one being able to come to the Father except through Yeshuah.  Then they both insisted they don’t believe in God having a Father or Mother or brothers or sisters or nothing no how.  I just humbly pointed out that’s just what Yeshuah himself said and they could take it for what it was worth.  Anyways, they were pleasant chaps, and we split ways on cordial terms.

At Bethsaida there were ruins of an old fisherman’s house dating from the time of Christ.  Maybe Peter lived there one night?  There were also ruins of an ancient arch that pre-dated Jewish influence with the engraving of a pagan diety upon it.

Later, hitch-hiking back to Nazareth I was riding with an Israeli guy and told him in passing I had visited Bethsaida that morning.  “Oh!  Did you see the arch with the pagan god engraved on it?”  Yes, I noticed it was there, why?  He pulled up his shirtsleeve and displayed to me a large tattood arm with the image of that god! 

He explained, “It’s the same one on the arch at Bethsaida: the pagan god Hadad.”

“Why did you do that,” I asked. 

“Well, some people are Christians and worship Yeshua, and others are Muslims and follow Mohammad – me, I’m a pagan.  So I wanted a pagan symbol tattooed on me.” 

To say most Israeli’s are secular would be correct.

Scenery

Galilee is beautiful.  Here are some pics from my hike.

On Top of Horns of Hittim

Open Fields

Wild FlowersFar Off Mountains

Arbel

Rainbow

Cave Opening

Animals

Ancient Caves

Sea of Galilee

Cliff Dwellings

Ancient Cliff Dwellings

Cave Dwellings

Inside Cave Dwellings

Shoes

I’d like to give a shout out to my Roclite shoes.  They have done good service so far in my travels.

RoclitesRoclites in Stream

(weird observation: I’ve been wearing rubber boots for two months whilst working on the Kibbutz, and they made bald patches on my legs, which you can see in those pictures)

Camping

I slept outside in a tent three nights in the Galilee.  Each night was a different adventure.

Night 1 in a Field North of Nazareth

Night 2

Cooking in the Tent Vestibule

Night 3

Night 3 Next to Sea of Galilee

One night I stayed at a bread and breakfast with a room to myself, it was nicer accommodations than my tent.  I tried not junking it up too much.

Bed and BreakfastGear

Closing

Guess I’ll close this post with a picture of myself in the arch of some unidentified ruins.

Nick in Arch

It was fun.  It was adventuresome.  I learned some things.

Asylum Seekers in Levinsky Park, Tel-Aviv

Asylum seekers from Darfur, South Sudan, and Eritrea have found their way to Israel seeking a better life.  Many are staying in a park outside the Central Bus Station in Tel Aviv.

Yesterday I went to that park to help distribute food and talk with those who spoke English.  I’m planning to go several more times this week.

I was able to visit with several polite young men from Darfur.  Very heartbreaking as I was told about the misery they had left, the misery of their journey, and the misery they now face as illegal aliens in Israel, living outside in a park with no work at the mercy of government bureaucracy.

The following short video is a good overview of the situation.

What will happen to the refugees is unclear.  However, as recent as this month (February) Israel’s Interior Ministry announced South Sudanese nationals have to repatriate by March, arguing they no longer need protection since South Sudan gained independence. They will be given $1,300 and a plane ticket if they voluntarily resettle, but any who do not repatriate will be deported.  (source)

But what about the guys I talked with last night from Darfur in Western Sudan?  They told me they’d heard their situation would change by March, but I’m afraid that change may be for the worst (for them).

Among Israeli’s, there are some who are quite vocal in desiring the African’s returning where they came from.  Even last night one man came by where we were giving out dinners and began shouting at us to stop helping these illegal miscreants.  He wouldn’t leave us alone for quite some time, and it caused not a little excitement.

The ministry I was helping out with last night is called Voice in the Wilderness.  Their goal at the park is to show Christ’s love in action through providing physical care and at the same time tell people about Jesus, providing free Bibles, etc. 

The food we served was pita bread with soup (the soup wasn’t ordinary soup, but really good stuff).  After that was all gone (about 500 meals later) we made up three huge pots of oatmeal (sweetened to a dessert dish).  Tony, the organizer, told me his desire was to make the food good quality, and I think he did a good job.  I was also impressed with how orderly the whole proceeding went. 

The Sudanese I talked with were very respectful and nice.  Though there are reports of some causing problems (what do you expect with that many idle young men sitting around), I was struck with the pleasant good-natured dispositions of ones I was in contact with.  And some were quite educated as well, one man I was talking with (Michael) had a degree in Computer Science.  I told him my brother works with computers and he wanted to know what he did.  I described as best I could and he said he knew about SQL and Microsoft databases and stuff.  He said he wished he could study here in the park (he had been there two months) and if I had any computer books he would appreciate them.  The only book he had was the Bible, and he told me he was studying that, currently reading through the book of John.  He said he wasn’t reading it like a newspaper, but had to go slowly paragraph by paragraph understand it.  And he said he was reading an English Bible instead of an Arabic one because it was “those” people who had killed his family.

I didn’t take any pictures, but there is an EXCELLENT 6-minute video here, titled, “A Day in the Life of an African Refugee in south Tel-Aviv.”  You can can see for yourself what type of people these are and what challenges they face.  It’s kinda moving.

In regards to independent organizations stepping up to provide assistance, I found the following quote revealing:

Unlike the authorities’ unclear approach towards asylum seekers, Israeli NGOs support for this group has been clear and noteworthy. Since the influx of asylum seekers crossing through Egypt, numerous Israeli NGOs and civil society have been actively involved in advocating for this group’s rights, challenging government policies, placing the refugee issue issue on the political agenda, and providing social services such as shelter, food, and medical support. However, the NGOs’ determination and dedication to provide social services has to some degree permitted the Israeli government’s inaction on the asylum issue. (source)

It’s unfortunate every coin has two sides.  On the one hand, providing basic needs is necessary.  On the other hand, it enables the government to sit around and do nothing indefinitely and perhaps prolongs the agony.  But what do you do?

8 Things You May Not Have Known About Israel

1. Toilets in Israel have two levers.  One for smaller duty flushes, and one for heavier duty flushes, I guess.  And I thought America had too many options.

Two Lever Toilet

2. Israel has the fourth largest Air Force in the world, after the United States, Russia, and China.  I see helicopters flying overhead all the time, including the one below, which I probably wasn’t supposed to photograph.

Helicopter

3. America sold Israel all their M16’s for $1/each.  At least, supposedly.  Maybe it’s not true, but I have seen the words, “Property of US Government” stamped on the side of M16 machine guns they carry.

Soldier Powwow

4. Both the Pentium-4 microprocessor and the Centrino processor were entirely designed, developed and produced in Israel. 

5. The concept of a “Tumbleweed Christmas Tree” was also designed, developed and produced here in Israel.  By us volunteers at Nir-Oz, in fact.  I bought the lights (which are too short), and the girls came up with the idea of wrapping it in toilet paper.  They also made the ornaments.

Tumbleweed Christmas Tree

6. There is no Dr. Pepper in Israel (what?!), only Coke cans with funny writing on them written backwards.  This lack of Dr. Pepper is a travesty of epic proportions, and I believe a significant factor in causing duress, hardship, et al to the populace at large. 

I have taken steps to combat this dearth of DP, this oppressive policy, by joining the Facebook group entitled, “Bring Dr. Pepper to Israel!”  So far I’m the third member, though technically my membership is pending approval by the admin. I’m hopeful our collective voice will be the harbinger of future change in this crucial dilemma. 

Down With Coke

7. In 2011, a total of 680 rockets, mortars and Grad missiles were fired from the Gaza Strip into Israel (says Wikipedia).  I took the following “Sunset over Gaza” picture last Wednesday evening.  There were artillery explosions going off while I snapped it.  Unemployment is high in the strip, one of the chief occupations being digging tunnels.  I hear even cars are smuggled underneath the wall.

Sunset Over Gaza

8. Hummus is one of the chief foods of Israel. They pronounce it who-muss instead of humm-us, like is proper.  Here is a lunch I had the other day:

Pita and Hummus

What is hummus?  Who knows.  Some say ground chickpeas.  Others say processed bird snot.  Regardless, I think it tastes quite nice. 

At a hostel I stayed at last week, I overheard two ladies asking the owner if he would please recommend a good restaurant. 

“Sure, there’s a great one right down the street where you can buy pita and this great big bowl of hummu – “ at which point he was interrupted by gnashing of teeth and wailing, “Not huuuumus! you can get that anywhere, we want something different!” 

Taken aback, he suggested they board a bus to somewhere more exotic. 

Later, I overheard them asking the same man, “Is there anything to do around here?”  (we were at the Ramon crater, one of the most striking geological features in Israel, great for hiking) 

He said, “Well, you could hike in the cater.” 

“No, we don’t want to hike.  Is there anything else?” 

With the patience of Job, he explained options ranging from stargazing to horseback riding to camel tours, etc – but he highly recommended we all at least go out to watch the sunset over the crater. 

So we did.  Below are two pictures I took: one of the crater, the other surreptitously snapped of the ladies.

ramon crater sunset

ramon crater lady tourists

Zeitgeist the Movie: Slick Propaganda

Zeitgeist the Movie is a conspiracy genre documentary made in 2007 which shows, among other things, that Jesus never existed (he was supposedly copied from archetypes found in ancient pagan religions), that 911 was an inside job by the US government, and that a group of elite financial bankers hold the reigns of global power. 

I was shown the first 25 minute portion (over religion) here at Nir Oz because several people thought I would find it interesting – and I did. 

Let me say that I like to think of myself as a truth-seeker:  I’m not afraid of the truth, or of facts.  If someone can show me what I believe to be false, I’ll change my beliefs because I don’t want to believe something that is not true.  Who does?

But about the religious segment of Zeitgeist, here is my opinion: it was total hogwash – But wait! let me explain that statement….

I didn’t know it was hogwash before I watched it, I went into the viewing with an open mind, saying I was willing to have my beliefs questioned (and I am).  I didn’t know what to expect, but I was prepared to face serious allegations against my faith. 

There are serious allegations that can be leveled against Christianity, such as the problem of evil in this world, among others.  These issues are ones which – I believe – must be wrestled with by every believer.  I believe these hard issues have answers, but they aren’t necessarily easy answers.

SO, after I was done watching the 25 minute movie, I still didn’t know it was total hogwash (though I was beginning to suspect it).

Here was what I thought after watching Zeitgeist, “Hmmm, I didn’t know there were so many similarities between ancient pagan deities and Jesus.  I’ll look into this.”

Honestly, the only deity I had knowledge of that they mentioned in the movie was Krishna (because I’ve studied Hinduism at a cursory level) and I knew they were taking some things out of context with him, because Krishna isn’t much like Jesus at all.  For starters, he’s mythical, whereas Jesus is historical.  And Krishna had serious moral issues – that are embarrassing to even read about – that don’t fit Jesus in the least.

But anyways, I went online and began looking into the claims of Zeitgeist and found out their information was misleading at best, and openly deceptive at worst.  The more I looked into it, the angrier I got. 

Turns out the religious segment from Zeitgeist was not even a serious attack against Christianity, but merely propaganda for the masses.  I went into watching it with a serious mindset, but instead of giving me something of substance to chew on, it was simply a litany of untrue statements, easily shown false.

What’s crazy is that it works: people watch this film and think, “Oh, so that’s the deal with Jesus, he’s just the most recent copy in a long list of ancient pagan gods that were all the same,” and move on with their life, swallowing the message.  Pretty sad.

So if you want, you can watch the religious portion of Zeitgeist online here.

But more importantly, watch the movie below, which is a reasoned rebuttal to the claims made in Zeitgeist, put together by Chris White.  I highly recommend it.

Begin listening at minute 31:00 for Chris’s refutation of the material.  The first 31 minutes are about the history of the Jesus Myth and not so much about Zeitgeist. However, the content after that point is quite interesting, especially Chris’s discussion on whether Jesus existed or not (which starts at minute 31).

If you want to watch the movie directly to see it in full screen, go here.

The second part of Zeitgeist, about 911, is also pretty controversial, but since you can find most their claims debunked at the million and one September 11th websites, I won’t touch on that here.

I tried watching the third part about banking while at the same time reading a more reasoned commentary over what I was hearing, but after awhile it became evident nearly every statement Zeitgeist was making was either a twisting of the truth or an open mis-representation, so I just began skimming the the online transcript with embedded rebuttal.  You can read that here.

Music Conference and Cow-Wowing

I’m still here… lost somewhere between “fine” and “dandy.” 

Last weekend I went to a two-day music concert showcasing 100+ Christian songs written by local Messianic Jews during the last two years. (try saying that sentence ten times in one breath)

It was sponsored by the Messianic Jewish Alliance of Israel – and was quite relaxing for me because I didn’t understand a word of it (everything was in Hebrew). 

Music styles ranged across the board, here is a video clip I put together:

And here’s another short video, showcasing a special family.  I think they’re special because they’ve been nice to me.  For instance, the guy playing the guitar picked me up one weekend here at Nir Oz to take me to his church (about an hour away).  I also spent the night at his parents house and his Dad even paid my bus fare back because I had run out of Shekels.  Just so happens they are musical too:

I would be remiss if I failed to mention the hospitality of another family, the Gillepsies (name changed to protect privacy, hehe) who let met stay in their home one night during the music conference.  They also fed me a scrumptious homemade meal and even later took me out to a Lebanese restaurant and paid my tab!  What larks.  It was great fun spending time with them and their young daughters…..

Family of Hidden Identity

In other news, it’s been a long week at work.  Here are highlights:

1. A cow tried jumping a fence (I guess) and got the ankle of one of it’s back legs stuck through the top pole of said fence.  The end result was a cow hanging upside down by it’s back hoof for who knows how long before getting noticed and helped (by empathetic humans, not the ambivalent cows milling nearby).  With me and two others lifting on the cow, we still couldn’t even begin to get it loose enough to release its foot, so we cut the top pole off instead.  Poor thing… and here I thought cows could jump higher than the moon.

2. Today a young cow died and I had to drag it out to it’s final resting place.  Well, sorta final resting place.  I drug it to the spot where they do cow autopsies.  Yeah, kinda gross.  This one supposedly died because it had a tummy turn, which is where its stomach gets twisted around on itself such that it can’t digest its food.  Hope that doesn’t happen to me someday.

3. Several days this week it was cold and rainy – and of course I work outside…  but it could be much worse.  There is a big open space in front of one row of calves that has turned into a pond.  I figure their real estate value has gone up since they now have waterfront views.

4. There is a new volunteer working with me who is from Mexico-way.  He doesn’t speak English.  The upshoot is, I’ve learned more Española in the last week than Hebrew in the last two months.  My Spanglish is coming along quite nicely.

Here is a picture from the “Mexican/American Peace Talks” going on in Israel (taken today after work):

 Mexico & America Meet in Israel

A Treatise on Baby Calves and their Tendencies

Today we received new baby calves.  They are about 3 days old.  One of them we got a few days ago was born too early and has problems with coordination (they all have problems with coordination, but this one has excessive problems). The good thing about new baby calves it they are very cute and cuddly. But like kittens, they grow up to become mangy bulls.

One of my jobs is to feed the calves baby-milk.  We give the milk to them in a bucket, and most of them drink from their bucket with no problem.  But some of the babies won’t drink nothing (I suppose they don’t know how yet).  So it’s part of my job to learn them. 

IMG_4945

True, I can feed the stubborn ones with a bottle (and do if worse comes to worse), but the problem with bottle-feeding calves is that it spoils them.  Then, from ever onwards, the cuddly critter expects a handfed bottle instead of drinking from their designated bucket (as good little cows should).  So first, we do everything in our power to make the little suckers drink from their pails.

For a stubborn one, I usually start with warm entreaties: swishing the milk around to make him curious.  As he comes up closer to me I’ll dip my fingers in the milk and let him suck my fingers.  As he gets the taste of the milk and wants more, I’ll start leading him toward the bucket, then put my hand in and – if all goes well, he begins lapping up breakfast (and continues to do so after I remove my hand).

Sometimes it doesn’t work so well.  Sometimes they don’t even suck my fingers, rather just loll their tongue from side to side and jerk their head as if they’re wholly insane (and they probably are).  This is bad news and means there will be a sore testing of my patience as hasn’t been seen since the days of Job. 

The best thing to do for this type of stubborn calf is to forcibly dunk its’ head into its’ milk pail so it can see what it’s missing (did I use all the its correctly?)

Today there was a little stubborn calf who was so lethargic he didn’t even want to open his mouth.  I thought it was hopeless, I cajoled him forever with middling results, finally resorting to a bottle, and even then he resisted mightily, baring his teeth at me as if I were the butcher himself, yet once getting a taste of the liquid sugar water began to drink like a parched camel from hades, downing several liters in record time.

Usually the calves are so excited to drink their milk they practically go insane loco.   I’ve seen them get so wound up they butt their heads against the gate and break it open and run out.  Then I get to run after them, tackle them, and drag them back to captivity, which is always great fun.

I saw one the other day so eagerly drinking he wasn’t paying attention to what his back end was doing, and that portion of his extremities ended up getting stuck in the poles on the side of his cage (how he managed this I’ll never know, and most likely, neither will he).  The calf ended up spread out long-ways with his head stuck in the milk bucket hanger and his back legs stuck outside the cage.  It was so funny I couldn’t stop laughing.  Finally I climbed in and helped him get un-entangled (which he was very thankful for and thanked me profusely, yet I still gave him a stern lecture on the risks of drinking while driving his back end).

When they get down to the last few drops of milk, they often lift their heads into the air (with the bucket on their snout) and walk around like that, hoping the final slurry will drain down their gullet.  This always ends up with them tossing their bucket into the mud (for me to clean up after later).

Speaking of cleaning up, I’ll say I’m mightily surprised at how routinely the calves poop in their food bucket (seems like that’s the wrong end of their body to be putting in the food bucket).  I would think this act is hardly necessary: Their food may be bland, but that spice can hardly help, I wouldn’t think.  As their hovering “mother,” I try telling them the food has enough salt in it already, yet they don’t listen, sneaking more poop in when I’m not watching.

I read in my cow book that cows have a keen sense of smell.  The book said they are exceedingly picky over their food, especially what it smells like.  But after seeing them indiscriminately poop in their food dish, I think that book must have been written by an enterprising Hindu.

Another thing they do, (cows, not Hindus) which can be infuriating is stepping into their water bucket.  Why…. oh Why?  I’ll be standing there filling up their bucket with a water hose of sweet-nectar-crystal-clear-spring-water coming straight from the bubbling fountains of the deep when they take a fancy to my muddy pants and step forward for a closer look (a closer lick is more like it) and in the process place a cloved hoof in their agua bucket – instantly turning it coal black.

My cow book says cows have a great memory.  I’ve observed their memory to be off by about 1/2 a second.  Behold, each morning when I give them their milk ration, they always put their head down into their “bucket hanger” right before I get the bucket lowered into their cage.  This results in them getting bopped on the head with their milk bucket (this I do with glee, admittedly), yet they never learn. 

So that’s all for now.  At least they’re cute, if nothing else.

Does God Intervene in Daily Life?

During the dead-locked Constitutional Convention in the summer of 1787, Benjamin Franklin had this to say:

"The longer I live, the more convincing proofs I see of this truth:
‘that God governs in the affairs of men.’  And if a sparrow cannot fall to the ground without His notice, is it probable that an empire can rise without His aid?"

Whilst hiking up Masada, I got to chatting with some fellow sojourners: a local Israeli girl and her Dad.  It came up I was a Christian, and the girl was immediately intrigued by this, asking me questions.  (the girls’ Dad, who seemed to be an atheist, was annoyed at his daughter for her questions)

One question she asked me was regarding prayer, “When I need help – say I’m looking for a parking spot in my car – I pray to God, but do you pray to Jesus?”

I tried explaining to her I believe in only one God, the Creator God, same as her.  Yet I also believe God incarnated himself into a human: the man Jesus. 

What struck me most about that question though was her mentioning praying for a parking spot.  While that may be an appropriate prayer, it comes across (at face value) as just turning to God like a genie when we need a favor.

But the question arises, DOES God intervene and intercede in every day events? Perhaps even in the example of a parking spot?

I’ve been hitch-hiking around Israel with my Polish friend, and he will refer to “luck” or “chance” as factors in us getting a ride.  I told him I don’t believe in luck. 

“So what do you believe in, Destiny?” 

“No,” I tell him, “Providence.” 

Which, admittedly, I define as a mixture of chance and Godly intervention.  I don’t believe God intervenes every time (though he could), but rather when He wishes.  The rest of the time he lets thing take their natural course.

Does this really happen?  Does God really intervene in the lives of men?  I think so.  Let me share a quick story.

It was Friday after work three weekends ago and I wanted to go to Tel-Aviv to visit a church in Jaffa (that met the next morning on Saturday).

I was planning to leave the Kibbutz by bus after lunch, but while eating lunch someone informed me the last bus to Tel-Aviv was right THEN! 

There WAS a later bus out of Nir-Oz, but it could only take me to Be’er Sheva (wrong way), not Tel Aviv, because bus lines were shutting down for Shabbat on longer distance trips.

Later… back in my room in the volunteer house I had an inner debate over what to do.  Should I try hitch-hiking to Tel-Aviv by myself?  I didn’t want to hitch-hike alone (though others here do it and it seems to work fine).

So I prayed and asked God what I should do.  I remember asking Him, and then suddenly the issue seemed quite clear: “I should go” because it was important I meet other Israeli believers, and God would watch out for me. 

Having made that executive decision, I was getting ready to leave when a fellow volunteer (my British compatriot) walked up and said, “Hey! I hear you’re planning to go to Tel-Aviv and missed the bus – I was going to too, but also missed the bus.  Do you want to hitch-hike together?” 

Aha!  This was a relief – I wouldn’t have to hitch-hike alone.

But the story doesn’t end there…. so the two of us caught the last bus out of Nir Oz and got off a few miles down the road at a nearby hitchhiking junction. 

Walking up to the junction, Danny put his hand up and (I kid you not) the FIRST car pulled over.  I haven’t hitch-hiked a whole lot, but that was the first time I’ve gotten a ride so quickly.  (for comparison, during this past weekend I caught a total of ten rides, each one I had to wait wait from about 10 to 45 minutes)

But back to the story (it’s not over yet).  We asked the Good Samaritan where she was going and guess what she said?  Yep, Tel-Aviv.  How about that? 

(after an hour ride, she actually dropped us off just South of Tel-Aviv as she was going to a suburb, but we were able to catch a taxi in for the last bit without trouble)

What’s also interesting is that this lady told us she usually never picks up hitch-hikers, but since she was in the boonies and right by a Kibbutz, she decided to pick us up figuring we were probably from the Kibbutz and safe.

So that’s the story, and of course it could easily be explained as coincidence, chance, luck, what have you, and maybe it was (I have no way of proving otherwise). 

But personally, I choose to believe some Providence was at work. 

Especially in light of how my time with the folks at the Jaffa assembly was so productive.  It was there I found out about the Christian Retreat happening the next weekend.  And it was at the Christian Retreat I met believers from a nearby church to Nir-Oz (where I was invited to come and even offered free translation services) and also invited to attend a local Bible study in Be’er Sheva (which I’ve done).

Tel-Aviv Beach

I was in Tel-Aviv December 30th.  I walked along the Mediterranean beach down South to Jaffa.  The Tel-Aviv beach is quite nice, so far my favorite “hang-out” spot in Israel.

Here are a few pictures I took along the walk:

Tel-Aviv Beach Evening

(that sailboat out at Sea looked like fun)

 

Tel-Aviv Beach Sunset

(the waves didn’t look big enough for surfing, but then again, I’m no surfer)

 

Tel-Aviv Skyline at Night

(from Jaffa looking back at the Tel-Aviv skyline)

 

In the Old City of Jaffa at Night

(fishing gear on a pier in Jaffa)

 

The following morning (Saturday, New Years Eve) I again walked to Jaffa to attend a church there. 

Here’s what I looked like leaving the hostel (note I’m carrying all my luggage for the three day trip in that little backpack).

Nick on New Years Eve

Walking to church I took the following video (pretty boring) of the Tel-Aviv Mediterranean beach scene:

Give Me Liberty… or… “We’ll Kill Ourselves” ??!

Masada is an ancient mountain fortress built by Herod the Great in the time before Christ.  It’s located up on a high, isolated plateau in the Judean desert.  Kind of like Israel’s version of Mancha Picchu (in Peru).

For a quick history: During the Jewish revolt against the Romans (in AD 70’s), Masada was the last outpost to fall after being besieged.  The twist to the story is this: as the fortress was about to be breached, the inhabitants (over nine hundred) committed mass suicide rather than lose their freedom to become slaves of Rome.

American patriot Patrick Henry famously said, “Give me liberty or give me death,” but I guess the slogan for these Jews was more, “Give me liberty or we’ll kill ourselves.”  I find the story rather sad. 

Anyhow, in the end… the Jews won regardless, because they outlasted the Romans!  Now Jews hold Masada once again.  And they vow it will never fall again.

I hiked up to the fortress this past weekend.  Here is proof the Jews hold it:

Israeli Flag Flying at Masada

The path I took up was called the Snake Path, it’s on the East side (the difficulty of the climb was about equal to hiking up Elk Mountain in Oklahoma for those who have done that). 

However, the East side was too hard for the Romans to attack from, and they came up the Western side instead, building a sloping siege ramp (apparently with slave labor). 

Here you can see the ramp.  You can even walk it if you want, but I went down the other side.

Seige Ramp Built by the Romans at Masada

Interestingly enough, their ramp didn’t reach to the VERY top, but instead, at the top they built a siege tower to reach up the wall.  Inside the top of the siege tower was a battering ram they used to break down the wall.  You can still see the gap in the wall where it was breached.  The rebels inside had reinforced the wall with wood and earth, but the Romans burnt that out with flaming torches.  Amazing to stand right there and imagine what it must have been like.  I had a similar feeling standing on the Little Big Top at Gettysburg.

At the bottom of the plateau, the Romans had built eight or so camps encircling the fortress (holding guard so no one could sneak down and get out).  Remains from these encampments are still visible and QUITE visible from the top.  It was eerie walking along the wall of Masada and imagining myself as one of the besieged, looking down below to companies of Roman soldiers guarding all chances of escape and slowly, methodically attacking my position.  Sort of like in Lord of the Rings when the Riders of Rohan retreat to Minas Tirith, only in this story the defenders lose.

I took the following video (from on top) of the encampments below.  I’m like 1300 feet above the desert floor.

Since Masada is in such a remote and arid location (and indeed, the location lost to human knowledge until the 1800s), much of it has been well preserved.

When I see ancient ruins it’s easy to think the place looked kind of like a dumpy rock place back then too, but that’s not true.  At Masada there were a few places where original plaster (from before Christ) covering the rocks remained.  This gave me a small glimpse of how amazing the place must have looked back in the day.

For example, notice in this next picture how some of the rocks are crumbling, some are still stacked straight, and at the bottom even the original plaster remains covering the wall and columns:

Roman Ruins (Palace) at Masada

This previous picture was taken at the North end of the fortress and was part of Herod’s palace.  The view from his palace of the desert and Dead sea is incredible.  In the next picture you can see part of that view and to the right, the rounded dais were the previous photo was snapped:

View Looking North from on Top of Masada (Dead Sea to the East on the Right)

Another cool thing at Masada are the ancient cisterns.  They were hewn from the rock (and indeed, doubled in purpose as on-site rock quarries).  I was able to go down in one.  There was graffiti on the walls, but I didn’t see any from ancient times, just recent (like 2004).

Water Aquifer at the Top of Masada

So that’s Masada.  It was amazing. 

Not Enough Time (energy?) to Blog Correctly

Lions, Tigers, and Bears, Oh My.

Sorry for the dearth of content recently.  It’s not because things aren’t happening, they are.  So many things, yet not enough time to write them. 

I have a mental list going of things I want to write about (like part of a cows tail that got disconnected from the other part of its’ tail), but either due to laziness or what have you, my blogging is getting “back-burner-ized.”  Oh well.

This upcoming weekend (tomorrow through Sunday) I’m planning to go tent camping with my friend Tomasz around the town of En Gedi (by the Dead Sea).  It should be fun, particularly if the weather cooperates.  Right now the weather-men (women?) are predicting cold temps with rain possible – yet this wouldn’t be the first campout I’ve been on with rain.

The conference last weekend (by Emmaus) was great. 

I did get to tour around the ancient ruins of the Emmaus area, but can’t post pictures because the sign at the ruins said not to without permission.  I think the sign also said something about food and beverages, but I did mange to “break bread” (ok, a cracker) at the site and chased it down with a spot of wine (ok, water) in commemoration of the Lord breaking bread in Emmaus with his two disciples after resurrecting.  I might have also crawled into a 1st century Jewish tomb (which may or may not have been kosher). 

The tomb was perhaps the coolest thing I’ve seen in Israel so far.  I felt like Indiana Jones (except there were no bodies anymore, just pools of water the size of humans).

Neve Shalom-More Historic Than the White House?

I was told of a 2 day Bible conference being held in Neve Shalom this weekend.  I’m planning on going, leaving tomorrow after work.

Neve Shalom is a small community about 25km West of Jerusalem. 

Do you know where Neve Shalom is?  Neither did I, but the history in the area is quite fascinating.

Located at the Bab el-Wad pass, a pass famous for being a choke point of the Tel-Aviv/Jerusalem road.  In the 1947 war the Arabs controlled the pass – occupying the Latrun Monastery located on top of the same hill Neve Shalom is on. From the Monastery they could shell the road and stop all relief traffic into Jerusalem.

After several failed attempts at taking the hill, Israel built a diversionary road around Latrun called the Burma Road, the beginning of which is close by Neve Shalom.

Going back in history a little, Neve Shalom is right by Emmaus Nicopolis, the presumed site where Jesus walked with his two disciples after resurrecting.  Luke records the three of them walked outside Jerusalem 160 stadia (about 27 kilometers), right by Neve Shalom!

I saw online there are ancient ruins of a church built over the presumed site of ancient Emmaus so I’m planning to try finding them tomorrow on the way.

Weird, right before I came to Israel I visited Emmaus Bible College, and now I’m visiting the ORIGINAL Emmaus for a Bible Retreat!  Going full circle.

But back even further, this is also the same place Joshua had a battle against the Amorites (Joshua 10) and the sun stood still for a day.

Of course, that’s not all.  This is also the site of a pivotal battle in the Maccabean Revolt – Not to mention the ruins of a 12th century Templar Temple are here – And let’s throw in a modern day Tank Museum, a War Memorial, and Park “Canda,” known for fresh springs…  Oh, there are also free concerts on Saturday’s in the Latrun Monastery, which is also open to the public.  The monastery is operated by French Trappist Monks.

If all that isn’t exotic enough, the name of Latrun is thought to have originated from the name of the good thief on the cross. That’s also the name of the Bus stop I have to get off at.

Anyways, that’s all tomorrow afternoon…  After I feed the cows beginning at 5am in the morning.  So good night.

Differences

Pop cans here in Israel are made from thicker aluminum than I’m used to. 

This makes them heavier – this MEANS I always think there’s more pop in my can than there really is.  I’m continually disappointed as I go for that laast sip and… nothings there.  The can has tricked me again. 

That’s not the only thing weird about Israel.

Though they drive on the right hand of the road, there traffic is still a bit weird in that the middle lines dividing flows of traffic are WHITE, not yellow like they’re supposed to be.  Talk about confusing, especially in town.

While I’m on the issue of roads, someone here didn’t get the memo Jumbo Sized roads are best.  In fact, many roads here are so tight it’s absolutely ridiculous.  There have been times my driver has had to literally stop in the middle of the road and back-up to let another car pass.

Here’s another difference: some places (like the barn I work in) have the hot water knob on the right side instead of the left.  But I think that’s just because whoever made that barn was in a hurry and hooked everything up backwards.  Everywhere else it’s normal.

And here’s another thing: we don’t wash dishes here with dish rags, but rather with a sponge.  I have yet to see a dish rag in any home, apartment, barn, eating establishment, or anywhere else in Israel.  Sponges are in.

Here’s a difference I find odd: I work with cattle, but there is exactly zero “Country Western” attitude in the Israeli cattlemen (and cattlewomen).  No one wears cowboy boots or big belt buckles, and the radio isn’t tuned to Country (hey, what’s Country? no one even knows who Taylor Swift is). 

Instead, we’re tuned in to Galgalatz radio, a pop music station here operated by Israeli Defense Forces Radio. 

The song I here over and over again a ka-jillion times every day is called אביב גפן ושרון ליפשיץ – נוסטלגיה  Obviously I have no idea what the title is or much less the lyrics, but I put it below so you can hear it.  It’s not so bad the first thousand or so times:  (if I hear it one more time I might scream or go pyscho)  [audio:http://simplefollower.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/12/Israeli_Song.mp3]

While we’re speaking of Differences, let’s talk food.  First, the food here is good, don’t get me wrong.  I like tomatoes and cucumbers, I really do.  Here at the Kibbutz I have them for part of every meal (breakfast, lunch, and supper).

At first I thought tomatoes and cucumbers were a Nir Oz thing, then I went out in the “Real World” like Tel Aviv and guess what every market sells?  Yep, tomatoes and cucumbers.  But that’s fine for me because I love tomatoes and cucumbers.  Here they frequently put them in pita bread with humus and falafel.  But I (being American) think “sandwiches.”  I put my tomatoes and cucumbers on my egg sandwich (in the morning), my chicken sandwich (at lunch), and my tuna sandwich (at supper). 

Ok, enough differences, I’m going to bed.

Christmas Eve in Bethlehem, 2011

Preamble

Checking out of my hostel the morning of Christmas Eve was a bit of an ordeal.  When I had arrived at the hostel the night before they didn’t honor my reservation.  He said my reservation was for a “mattress on the roof” (not what I reserved on the website) and since it was raining that night all those reservations were no longer good.

Not that the situation was SO bad, turns out I had the opposite problem of Mary and Joseph: instead of giving me the stables he put me up in a private room (which only cost four times the price).  Also turns out the private room was a complete dump so I decided to not stay there another night like I had planned.

Anyways, my friend Tomasz was all in favor of leaving without telling the owner we were doing so (on the grounds the hostel guy would try getting more money out of us) but I went ahead and checked out notwithstanding. 

Turns out Tomasz was right, the guy wasn’t happy and went off on me for “cancelling my reservation” and said now he wouldn’t be able to sell that room for the next night and I needed to pay more.  Of course this was all hogwash and I ended up just walking out of his office with a, “Thanks for your business.”

Anyways, with that unpleasant business done, we were off to Bethlehem!

Off to Bethlehem!

Three of us went: myself and two other volunteers from Nir Oz: Tomasz (a Pole) and Merle (a German).  The walk to Bethlehem was about six miles.

As we marched along, it was interesting to think of Mary and Joseph taking that same walk on the 8th day of Jesus’ life to dedicate their baby at the temple.

Halfway there, we passed a young shepherd by the side of the road watching a small flock of sheep on a hill.  We decided we needed a break so climbed the hill, said “Hi” to the shepherd, and sat down to eat some snacks. 

I think we all thought it was quite funny to actually see sheep and a shepherd in this otherwise developed area.  2,000 years and some things haven’t changed! 

The shepherd had a straight stick instead of one with a “crook” in the end (which I thought was regulation shepherd equipment) but Tomasz said this was because of animal rights concerns over inhumane treatment.  I think he was pulling my leg and theorized shepherds had just finally run out of crooked sticks.

Here are some pictures of the sheep and us resting:

Shepherd on a Hill Outside Jerusalem

MerleTomasz

After our rest…. onward we marched, finally reaching the checkpoint between Israel and the Palestinian controlled West Bank.  Here is a picture of the wall separating the two lands:

IMG_4150

The checkpoint was painless, we just walked through!  Not what I was expecting…  the pedestrian entrance was even practically deserted.  I think most people enter via taxi or bus, not walking.

Inside the West Bank the first thing that happened was we got assailed by taxi drivers wanting our business.  One guy was quite persistent and followed us about 100 yards heckling us the whole way, saying it was much too far to walk and we HAD to have a taxi.  Little did he underestimate our hearty constitutions. 

Finally we shook him off by repeatedly saying, “No!” 

The next thing I noticed (besides Israeli soldiers swarming the place) was all the graffiti on the dividing wall between Israel and the West Bank.  There is tons of it, as far as the eye can see.  It is quite sad… 

Here is a sampling of some graffiti:

IMG_4186

IMG_4200

After asking a group soldiers for directions, we headed towards Bethlehem.  I knew we were getting close when I saw this sign:

IMG_4202

In Bethlehem

As we neared “Bethlehem Square,” (the focal point of festivities) the crowds moving down the street become dense.  At the worst part we were merely shuffling along in a tight sea of humanity.  This next picture was taken where the street widened out and wasn’t so crowded, but you can still see there were a lot of people (I was standing on a box):

IMG_4210

At the entrance to Old Town Bethlehem there is an arch we went under that is supposedly the same arch Mary and Joseph walked under.  It probably isn’t, but they would have likely walked on this same spot of ground anyways.

Old Gate Qoos Az Zarara Bethlehem

I did see the Bethlehem Inn.  No doubt the same one Mary and Joseph were turned away from:

Bethlehem Inn

Here’s a picture of a street leading up to the Church of the Nativity (it’s the Church with the high steeple):

Bethlehem Street

Inside the Church of the Nativity is the supposed spot where Jesus was born.  There are golden “baubles” all over and it seems anything but “humble,” which seems more descriptive of how Jesus came to earth. 

I didn’t actually see the Nativity Cave because the line there was enormously long and I figured I could always see the picture on Wikipedia later (which I did, and you can too here).

Inside of the Church of the Nativity

In the “trap-doors” in the picture above you can see mosaics below from the original floor.  This Church of the Nativity was commissioned back in the olde days by Constantine himself (or his mother or something) and finished in 333 AD.  It is about the oldest Christian church in the world still going. 

Here is a close-up of the mosaics from the original floor.  Weird to think of Constantine (and Crusaders like perhaps Richard the Lionhearted) walking on this very floor.

Original Mosaics

The church appeared to be non-Protestant.  I thought the nuns and monks were interesting.  The picture below of the Monk checking his cell-phone is a real sign of the times, methinks.

Nun

Monk Texting

The Church of the Nativity has seen a lot of violence, even recently.  Check out this headline from just yesterday:

“Clashes between holy men erupt inside Bethlehem’s Church of the Nativity. About 100 priests and monks from the Greek and Armenian churches, armed with brooms, came to blows whilst cleaning the church in preparation for Orthodox Christmas celebrations…” 

You can watch the video of them fighting here

This type of bickering seems to exhibit the typical attitude I see of “religion” here in Israel, more legalistic than “of the heart.”  This particular case of monks fighting with brooms gives Christianity a bad name.  Whatever happened to, “Turn the other cheek?”

There has been other recent fighting at this church as well.  I saw a Youtube video of Palestinians holed up in the church exchanging fire with Israeli troops this past August.  The monks were bringing out casualties on stretchers.  I guess they can be nice sometimes.

Anyways, after meandering around Bethlehem for awhile, eating our sack lunches in the square (and buying some local tea from a young Palestinian Boy), we decided to walk out to this place called, “Shepherds Fields.” 

While no one knows exactly which hill the Shepherds were on when the angels appeared to them, these hills are typical and in the near vicinity. 

We had a hard time finding the Shepherds fields.  On the edge of town we stopped at a street corner to consult our guide-book.  There was a small grocery store there and this lady was loading groceries into her car.  She asked us what we were looking for so we told her.  “Oh, I live right by them!”  After consulting her husband (who was in the drivers seat), she told us to pile in and they’d drive us.  They were the friendliest people, and after pointing out their house as we passed by they dropped us off at the “Shepherds Fields.”  I think the couple were Christians because 1) they had a sticker of a cross on their car and 2) they wished us Merry Christmas.

What we saw when we reached the Shepherds Fields was pretty exotic: a group of Japanese tourists.  This was entertaining, though not exactly what I was expecting.

Japanese Tourists

I did get this picture of the surrounding scenery:

Shepherds Fields Near Bethlehem

After reading the section of the angels appearing to the shepherds from Luke chapter 2, we headed back (walking) to Bethlehem.  Upon arriving we were wiped out so stopped to eat some food and take a break. 

Visiting Israel and historic spots is interesting because – while I’m trying to savor the history – I’m also having my own adventures in the present and dealing with mundane things like hunger and feet being so tired they feel as if they’re about to fall off.  Maybe Mary and Joseph were hungry and tired and rode into town on a rainy night too? 

Anyways, after a break we decided to head back to Manger Square to see what it looked like at night.

I noticed this (ironic) sign on our way back:

Welcome_to_Bethlehem

Manger Square was sort of a mad-house.  Here is a picture and video I took:

Manger_Square_Bethlehem_Christmas_Eve_2011

Ambience Footage….

It started raining and we needed to get back to Jerusalem.  While walking out we passed a Lutheran church offering free “Glühwein.”  Not much of an attraction to me, but my German compatriot was excited as this is traditional Christmas beverage in Deutschland.

Turns out the Lutheran Church was also getting ready to start an evening Carol service, so we attended that as well!  This was quite nice and almost made me feel back at home.  A young group of Palestinian locals from that church sang carols they had practiced.  It wasn’t professional, but that made it seem more authentic (and like home).  All the songs were in Arabic (which was different) and a couple of the carols were even in an Arabic style.  The whole show was so pleasant I fell asleep at the end.

Next we headed back to “The Wall.”  It was raining in earnest now, and we were freezing.  A funny memory I have of that day is walking along in the rain in the dark along this graffiti-covered wall (on the Palestinian side) singing Christmas Carols with Merle (she singing in German while I in English).  A very random Christmas Eve!

At the checkpoint there was not a soul to be seen.  There were some eight entry lines and after some looking we found one manned by an Israeli soldier… who didn’t seem too attentive, we walked straight through.  I think we looked pretty touristy.  And wet.

Then we waited in the rain a long time to be picked up by a friend of a friend (super nice Israeli man – worked in the Department of Education of Jerusalem or something) who let us crash at his flat (they call apartments over here “flats”).  I can’t even remember his name now, but he was extremely hospitable giving us coffee, dessert, dry clothes, and had everything set up for our sleeping quarters – he even left us the key to his place when he left for work the next morning!  His apartment was so nice it was hard leaving.

So that was my Christmas Eve in a nutshell.  Or a 50-gallon drum.

December 23rd – Jerusalem, the Old City, the Wailing Wall and the Church of the Sepulcher

Friday after lunch two other volunteers and myself headed for Jerusalem.  After catching four different rides via hitch-hiking, we arrived (hitch-hiking is more common in Israel, they even have specially marked turn-out lanes to pickup hitch-hikers). 

After arriving and checking into my hostel, the afternoon/evening/night was spent wandering around the Old City of Jerusalem.  Our hostel was directly outside the Damascus gate (Muslim quarter) and I’m not planning to stay at that particular hostel again because I think the proprietor was out to get as much money from tourists (me) as possible.  The place itself wasn’t too bad (depending on your standards).  Ok, so it was a rat shack.

So here’s a picture of a street in the Old City in the Muslim Quarter.  Notice the Orthodox Jews in the background.

Old_City_Muslim_Quarter

Friday evening begins Shabbat (Jewish Sabbath) so tons of Orthodox Jews were flocking to the Western Wall for evening prayers.  This was quite a site and interesting to see. 

After passing a security checkpoint and donning a Kippur I too went up to the Wailing Wall and even placed a piece of paper with a prayer on it into a crack in the stones.  I felt a little silly doing so, as if I were “wishing upon a star,” like Gemini Cricket says.  I know God hears my prayers whether I’m at the Temple Mount or Timbuktu, Mali. 

Regardless, it was definitely an experience what with all the men in black clothes with their big beards reading scriptures and singing/chanting while rocking back and forth.

Wailing Wall on Shabbat Dec 23rd 2011

Wailing Wall Later at Night Dec 23rd 2011

Dome of the Rock from the Western Wall

It was pretty amazing for me to think of Solomon building the original temple right there, and then later Nehemiah rebuilding the walls also in this same place.  Though apparently the Western Wall only dates back to additions Herod commissioned around 2,000 years ago that’s still pretty old too.

While walking around I ducked into the Church of the Holy Sepulcher which is supposedly built on the tomb of Jesus.  It was interesting, but all the pilgrims going nuts over this stone on the ground kind of turned me off from the place.  I didn’t actually see the supposed Sepulcher because I was in a hurry – perhaps if I’d seen that I would have swooned with the rest.

Another random thing I did was go to the top of the roof of an Austrian hotel.  From there was a good view of the city.  Below is a picture of me on the roof with the Dome of the Rock and the Mount of Olives and an Austrian flag in the background.  Weird combo.

On Top of an Austrian Hotel

Another thing: seeing armed soldiers in Israel is super common.  When they are in plainclothes it seems even wierder.  How often in the US would you see someone walking around wearing jeans and a T-Shirt with a machine gun slung over their shoulder?  But I saw that several times just yesterday.

This picture below was also snapped last Friday in Jerusalem:

IMG_4113

Coming up… a report on my time in Bethlehem on Christmas Eve

Be’er Sheva

In the Bible it’s spelled Beersheba.   Either way, I went there this evening.  It’s about a half hour drive from Nir Oz, similar to a trip up to Newton back home.  I went with several volunteers and a Kibbutznik (and his girlfriend).

There are some ancient ruins outside the city that date back from Bible times (10th century BC I think) but I didn’t get to see them this time.  I want to go back later to see them.  What I saw tonight was just a big bustling city.  The population is pushing 200,000 and it’s quite modern.

Be’er Sheva is known for it’s good water.  Abraham dug a well there way back when and wells are still plentiful today.  Being located in the dessert, water is pretty important. 

My Polish friend Thomas and I spent a couple hours walking around downtown.  We followed his guidebook to the spot of an ancient well (apparently it’s quite the tourist attraction).  Well, the guidebook wasn’t completely accurate and the map led us directly to a sidewalk pastry café. 

We were a bit puzzled and after wandering to each side of this super busy traffic intersection (without seeing any wells) I decided to go order something from the café and (in the process) ask the guy if he knew where the well was.  Turns out the proprietor spoke basically zero English and so I ordered by pointing to the pastry I wanted.  Then I proceeded to try asking for directions to the well… he had no clue what I was talking about. I showed him our guidebook with a map marking X right over his pastry shop (was he hiding the well out back?) 

He was still clueless and just shaking his head so finally I pantomimed hand motions pulling a bucket of water up from the ground.  He suddenly became quite excited and pointed across the street.  Yes, we had already looked there, but turns out the well was behind this make-shift wall in a construction zone. 

So we finally found the well by climbing up and peering over, and who knows? maybe it was the very one Abraham dug.

Ancient Well in Beer Sheva

We also walked through some markets that were located in this dingy subway-looking area.  It wasn’t much to write home about, and some guy got on my case for taking pictures.

Vegetable Vendor

London, England

I had a long layover in Heathrow so went downtown to explore.  Here are a few pics… 

This is the train station in Central London:

Train Station

Seemed like everyone was either out walking or riding their bikes:

People Walking in Central London

Bicyclers

I wanted to try making the guards at Buckingham Palace laugh but couldn’t get close enough to try.

Guard at Buckingham Palace

Guard at Buckingham Palace 2

Hyde Park:

Biker in Hyde Park

Big Ben.  I remembered Big Ben from last time I saw it (when I was three years old).  Yes, my memory is amazing.

Big Ben

I thought “Mounties” were Canadian, but I saw them in London too…

Mounties

Kibbutz Nir Oz

That’s where I am now.  I’m excited about the next few months, think they’ll be fun.

Despite the name “Near Oz,” it’s actually nearer to the Gaza strip.  In fact, I can see into the Gaza strip from here.

nir_oz

All the other volunteers (about 8 of them) are very friendly and from all over: Wales, Great Britain, Germany, Poland, Holland, South Africa, Italy, and I’m the only American. The Kibbutznik’s are really friendly as well.

All the volunteers stay in a volunteer house.  Right now I’m in temporary quarters in the house, but a couple of the fellows are leaving Saturday so then I’ll get their room.  I’m actually sleeping in the room of the house that is the concrete bomb shelter. 

I’ve been told the risk of a missile hitting us is fairly low (something about greater odds of getting hurt in a car accident). But there is supposedly some advantage in being so close as apparently the missiles usually go over our heads (they can’t shoot them this close).  Comforting.  But in 2008 they had problems with snipers shooting the field hands.

This afternoon I had free since it was my first day.  There was this old dilapidated bicycle that didn’t work next to our house so I worked on fixing that up.  Getting around the Kibbutz via bike seems to be the common mode of transportation.  After some adjusting and a trip to the machine shop, I am now the proud “owner” of an old blue rusty BMX bike. I wasn’t so successful in fixing one of the girls’ curling irons.

Anyways, after fixing the bike I went on a bike ride and explored the whole Kibbutz as well as some of the surrounding farmland.  It’s all pretty neat, our Kibbutz is like this self-contained unit in the middle of no-where-ville.  I feel like I’m on an Amish settlement.  There is plenty of work for everyone, they have a paint factory as well as fairly substantial farming and cattle operations.

There is also a camel here.  Apparently they found it recently wandering around in the nearby fields and captured it.  They say if no-one claims it in the next month they’re going to keep it.  And they think it might be pregnant.

A trip to Jerusalem (and perhaps Bethlehem) is in the works for next weekend for Christmas.  I’m excited about that, a few of us are going to go together.  Travelling around Israel is pretty easy as public transport is ubiquitous.

The food here is great. There is a cafeteria that has a large selection of various items that can be put together in whatever creative way you want. For instance, for lunch today I mixed up chicken, rice, and potatoes slices to make a chinese type dish. And for breakfast I put fried eggs on some bread to make whatever that is called (egg sandwich?).

The way the food works is that I pay for every meal (by the item) from a 1300 Shekels monthly allowance (about $325) which they deposit in my account. Food is pretty cheap and whatever I don’t spend during my time here will be paid out to me in cash at the end.

Tomorrow I have to wake up before 4:30am so am going to head towards bed now early.  Luckily I only have to wake up that early on Friday’s.  The other days work starts at 6:30.

My time zone is 8 hours ahead of Central Time.  It seems weird how people back home aren’t even getting up until it’s well into the afternoon for me.

36 Hour Countdown

Feel like I’m about to go over a waterfall.  Can see the drop-off ahead and hear the booming water, but where I am now is still calm and tranquil.

Not sure if everything is going to fit into my backpack.  Guess I’ll find out tomorrow when I try stuffing it all in.

Lot of little details coming together.  Miss just one of them and they might turn me around at the border of some country.  For instance, yesterday I got a Yellow Fever shot (live vaccine) and round three of Hepatitis B.  Pretty much caught up on shots now.  I think.

A friend of mine (who is a world traveller) told me often on the night before he leaves on a big trip he lays awake in bed wondering if it’s all going to come together.  I know how he feels now, there’s a lot of unknowns in travelling.

Probably humans in general dislike unknowns, but I think it comes even harder on Americans as we’re so used to living lives of control.  Push a button and our garage door opens, push another to electronically set the temperature.  Want coffee?  Set the timer, it will be ready in the morning. 

All my machines do my bidding, I run a tight schedule, and often feel dependent on no one but myself.  This is an illusion of course, but adds up to me not always being happy when things are going on outside of my control.

But I think being in situations where I have to rely on others is healthy, even though scary. I think it’s healthy because it gives me practice in trusting God, which is also scary. Trusting God with the big, important things in life (like my life) is gosh-awful scary. I think the scare factor alone is why most people don’t do it (myself included many times).

Ok, enough soliloquy for tonight, I’m crashing. 

10 Packing Tips for Travelling to Faraway Places

Two PacksPacking is a fine art.  Especially when you try bringing everything (like I do).  At the end of this post I’ve made a list of 10 packing tips I came up with.

My Travelling Experiences

When I quit my job in June I had in mind to travel for a year.  Initially I was going to travel with the World Race, a marathon missions trip to 11 different countries.  However, the craziest thing happened and that fell through.  I believe God was closing that door in my life, but maybe it was all just happen-stance.

Regardless, since June I’ve been on 3 trips.  Worked at a Bible camp in Missouri for 5 weeks, worked in Haiti and the DR for 6 weeks, and took a Western America road trip to visit family for 3 weeks. 

Right now I’m packing for an extended trip to Israel (3 months).  I’ll be volunteering on a Kibbutz but have no idea which one or what I’ll be doing.

On Packing Too Much Stuff

On each trip I’ve packed too much stuff.  And at the same time left out important items.  In the DR for instance there was hardly a day went by I wasn’t raving mad at myself for having not brought my Gerber multi-tool.  Never again.

Clothes are a primary culprit for over packing.  Here back home we’re used to having a dresser AND a closet full of clothes (not to mention all the ones on the floor).  It’s no big deal to own 6 pairs of jeans, 30 tee-shirts, 5 jackets and 15 pairs of socks.  But when you try getting everything packed into a backpack, something has to go.

I remember as a little kid packing most the clothes I owned on vacations because I felt sorry for the clothes left behind and didn’t want any of them to feel neglected or unnecessary.  Were those projections normal?  Probably not… regardless, I’ve learned to be more ruthless since then.

My “10 Tips” List:

  1. Bring the bare minimum and then bring less.  You’ll still have too much.
  2. Get everything to fit into one large backpack and one small daypack.  Backpacks make transporting your stuff much easier than suitcases.  I wear one on my back and one on my front.  A small daypack is sooo versatile: it works great for day trips, plus is convenient as a carryon bag for airplanes.
  3. Forget travel-sized toiletries, get a large toiletry bag that fits full-sized items (like toothpaste, shaving cream, etc) and use it at home so you can get used to living like that.  Then when you go on a trip just grab your bag and it’s like you’re at home! (my brother Luke always says, “Home is where your toothbrush is.”)
  4. Organize your stuff into bags.  I especially appreciated this system one night recently when setting up my tent up in a drizzle.  The tent was at the bottom of my backpack (of course) so everything had to come out on the wet ground.  Fortunately, since everything was organized into several large bags I just had to pull a few things out (versus 100 small items).
  5. Split your clothes into “Nicks Patented 4 Bag System”.  The first bag will be a mesh laundry one.  This one will of course will be empty when you leave, except for some laundry powder for emergency hand-washing.  The second bag is a small one for socks/underwear, I use a nylon ditty bag for that.  The third and fourth bags are medium-sized plastic bags (trash bags are fine, just mark them to make them easily identifiable) that hold pants/shorts and shirts, respectively.  I use plastic for these because 1) it keeps them dry and 2) these clothes are (presumably) clean so don’t need to breathe.  This system will simplify your life, or money back guaranteed.
  6. Don’t bring (much) cotton.  Especially base layers.  Cotton base layers need to be washed daily or they get stinky from sweat.  Synthetic base layers (that don’t absorb moisture) can be worn many days without becoming stinky.  The exception is cotton tee-shirts.  Having a few of those never hurts.
  7. Leave the blue jeans behind.  Or just bring one pair.  This is a difficult one for me ‘cus I love blue jeans, but they are heavy, bulky, take forever to dry when wet, and uber difficult to hand-wash.  I usually still bring one pair.  In the DR I met a fellow traveller who had been volunteering for several months and all his stuff fit into ONE largish school bag.  Needless to say I was impressed.  Yet even he had one pair of blue jeans, but the ironic thing was he’d never worn them (so even he packed too much).  I’ve found convertible nylon pants (ones that zip off at the knees to become shorts) the best compromise.  My pair of Khaki ones double for church slacks too.  I’ve tried different brands and like Columbia the best.  North Face are more comfortable but too baggy.
  8. Back to toiletries, here are some tips I’ve found to help reduce size and weight on a few items.  Hair gel is one of them.  Option A would be to dispense with niceties like hair gel, but I like using it.  Regular hair gel weighs a lot (it’s mostly water) and only lasts me a few weeks.  In contrast, I’ve found a small tin of Crew gel paste to work better and the 3 ounce quantity it comes in lasts me nearly 3 months!  Amazing.  Here’s another: full sized cans of shaving cream are bulky and for their size don’t last that long, but a 5 ounce squeeze tube of Neutrogena shave cream can last me about 3 months.  (speaking of shaving cream, I’ve seen secret compartment shaving cream safes used to hide valuables – you can buy one for about $20 here)
  9. This tip mainly applies to 3rd world countries: Use a Gatorade bottle for your water bottle.  This has several advantages: 1) it’s not a big deal if you lose it and 2) people won’t be asking you for it all the time (when I used my “nice” $5 Target water bottle I was asked many times if I would please give it).  In Haiti it can get to where you want to have exactly NOTHING on you when you go out (not even a water bottle) because it gets old having people ask for your stuff.
  10. Bring flip-flops.  Honest, I used to never realize how versatile these things were, but after seeing kids play soccer in them, men mixing concrete in them, and people going to church in them I’m now a believer.  Granted, they’re not ideal for anything (other than lounging around), but at the same time they’re better than going barefoot and can work for anything.  They’re super lightweight and take up hardly any space in a pack and also eliminates having to wear (and wash) socks.

Friends

Christmas, Birth and Death

Boxing up all the stuff in my apartment.  The death of one phase, the birth of another. 

Contemplating.

Listening to Christmas music on the radio while working. 

Loved Michael Buble’s rendition of, “All I Want For Christmas.”  I know it’s sappy lovey-dovey, but I like it anyways ‘cus it reminds me the most important things in life are the relationships I have and not the stuff I’m given.

[audio:http://simplefollower.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/Michael_Buble_All_I_want_for_Christmas_is_you]

In between songs a lady called in to answer the question, “What do you want for Christmas?” 

Her answer was this, “That I could have just one more day with my husband.  He recently died of heart illness.  We had been married 41 years.” 

I stopped packing to listen.  Through the static I could hear her get choked up.  She paused and I could tell the radio announcer was caught off guard too. 

She continued, “I never knew how it would feel to be a widow.  Now I do.  No matter what, you’re never prepared for this.” 

I looked down at the box I was putting stuff in and thought about how I was carefully preparing for the next few months of my life in Israel.  By next Saturday everything will (hopefully) be prepared. 

Preparation. 

Our family is big on preparation.  But I was struck with the thought, “Am I prepared to die?  Am I be prepared for the inevitable death of my family members someday?  If I get married, would I ever be ready for her death?”

She went on, “I miss my husband.  If I could have just one wish come true this Christmas… it would be to have another day with the man I loved.”

Death.  It comes to each of us.  Even Jesus experienced death.

“And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit… the earth shook and the rocks split.” (Matthew 27:50-51)

The sting of a loved ones death was also felt by Jesus:

When Jesus saw her weeping, and the Jews who had come along with her also weeping, he was deeply moved in spirit and troubled…

Jesus wept.

Then the Jews said, “See how he loved him!”

(John 11:33-36)

Christmas time is a season of hope as we celebrate Jesus’ birth, but no doubt also the season of most loneliness. 

A good friend of mine told me a co-worker (whom he had trained) ended her life earlier this week. 

Loneliness. Tragedy.  Where is the light in this dark world?

“…the people living in darkness
       have seen a great light;
   on those living in the land of the shadow of death
       a light has dawned."
(Matthew 4:16)

As I thought about the lady who was now a widow I remembered that for a Christian there is future hope of seeing believing loved ones who have died. About this hope Paul said:

“Indeed, in our hearts we felt the sentence of death. But this happened that we might not rely on ourselves but on God, who raises the dead.  He has delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will continue to deliver us…”  (2 Cor 1:9-10)

But it seems to me life can be lived superficially with no thought to eternal matters; to life and death; to what is truly important.  It is possible to live for today, for my own gratification.  And frankly it is possible to live as if I will never die.  I do it all the time.

Yet I don’t believe living that type of life of apathy regarding my impending future is best.  There are important things to live for.  As a believer of God’s promises, my citizenship is no longer in this world and I should be living as a stranger, not as one engrossed in its’ wares.

Life is too short to spend on trivialities. Life is serious and not all fun and games. 

“It is better to go to a house of mourning
than to go to a house of feasting,
for death is the destiny of every man;
the living should take this to heart.”
(Ecc 7:2)

Listening to this lady’s emotion on the radio touched a nerve, and I indeed took to heart that death is the destiny of every man.

My good friend Chad recently came out of a deep illness.  In allusion to Pilgrim’s Progress I told him he’s been through a dark valley.  He rejoined with, “Well, it sure wasn’t Vanity Fair.”

Yet how often do I find myself caught up in this world, in Vanity Fair? 

I was reading 1 John the other day and hit between the eyes by this statement:

“Do not love the world or anything in the world.  If anyone loves the world, the love of the Father is not in him.” (1 John 2:15)

Jesus’s birth pointed straight towards his death.  Yet I think it is amazing how His death is what secured life for those who believe.

“Just as Moses lifted up the snake in the desert, so the Son of Man must be lifted up, that everyone who believes in him may have eternal life. (John 3:14-15)

There isn’t much point to this post, other than reminding myself and others to try not getting caught up in the craziness of December and the materialism of this Vanity Fair we live in. Savor the relationships.

“Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes?” (Matthew 6:25)

I step back and think, “Without the birth of God incarnate there could never have been the death of God incarnate.  And without the death of God incarnate there never could have been the option of life for sinners like me. There never would have been hope.” 

We serve a great God. There is hope.

When Was the Last Time You Went Road Tripping?

Summary of Last Three Weeks

I’m just home from a three week Western America road trip.  I spent a week driving out to the coast, a week visiting my brother in Oregon, and a week driving back to Kansas. 

Driving Driving Driving

On the trip I was up close to Canada and down to within several miles of Mexico.  I drove through nearly every weather condition from hot and sunny to cold and snowy to booming thunderstorms to fog to ice. 

I’ve been over mountains, down through valleys, in giant redwood forests, hugged dirt tracks by the Pacific ocean, and zipped through cactus-lined desert. 

From sea level to a 9,500 foot mountain pass in Wyoming, my trusty Accord has crossed the Rockies, the Sierra-Nevada’s, the Cascades, and on this trip… the 300,00 mile mark!

IMG_1770Stats

  • Total Trip Length: 6,500+ miles
  • Number of States Visited: 14
  • Average MPG: 33
  • Total Time Spent Driving: 125+ hours
  • Total Cost of Gasoline: $700
  • Total Nights Spent Camping: 8

General Route

This map shows the general route I took but it’s missing the paths through the Badlands in South Dakota, Yosemite in California, and extra driving I did in Utah.  GoogleMaps kept crashing every time I put in too fine detail.

General Route

Theme Song for the Trip

Sorry, not very religous, but fun!

One of the highlights of the last three weeks was watching The Lion King with my little neices, singing along with the songs :-)[audio:http://simplefollower.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/11/Lion_King_Instrumental.mp3]

Texas, New Mexico, and Speed Limits

Most recently I’ve been in Texas.  In fact, I saw a genuine Texan at McDonald’s: big moustache, worn out jeans, heavy duty cowboy boots, western style vest, and a cowboy hat with (I kid you not) a giant feather sticking out. 

There was no horse, so I think he’d just emerged from the cactus-lined sagebrush on foot.

 

State Signs (Texas - Where Everything Is Bigger)

So you can make good time across Texas because their speed limit is 80 mph.  They aren’t messing around!  That’s the fastest posted I’ve seen in any state so far.

It’s funny about speed limits.  Through Phoenix the speed limit was 55mph but not a single person followed it.  Everyone was going about 72.  No one wanted to go a hair slower or a hair faster, I guessed the idea was police couldn’t pull everyone over. 

Then in San Francisco I couldn’t believe how FAST everyone drove.  80+ was the norm.  Not sure what the hurry was…?

The most notable thing I saw in New Mexico was this beautiful stucco gas station about an acre in size with some five different stores inside: a country western store, a Native American crafts store, a regular gas station store, a giant fireworks store, and a full-sized Dairy Queen store.  One stop shop, that. 

While there I bought a Blizzard from the Dairy Queen, marveling to the cashier how this station was surely one of the 7 wonders of New Mexico. 

In subdued tones she secretly confessed to me how she’d prefer to be working on the other side of the store since, as she put it, “They don’t work near so hard over there.” 

I could imagine fitting customers for cowboy boots at a filling station was slower employment than filling ice-cream ‘n burger orders. 

That same cashier had to re-swipe my credit card multiple times because, as she explained, “Our internet here in the boonies hardly works.”

Didja See any Wildlife?

I saw some:  Cattle, Deer, Coyotes, Antelope, Elk, Bison, Banana Slugs, a Jack-Rabbit, and some Hitch-Hikers.

CoyotesAntelope

BufalloCattle Crossing in the Boonies of South Dakota

Police Run-in Stories

My Car Old FaithfulI was pulled over by law enforcement twice this trip.

The first was at the very beginning while still in Wichita! 

It was about 4am and I was stopped because my brights were on. 

“Why are you driving with your brights on?” he asked.

Still groggy, I responded, “I don’t know.” 

The more thoughtful answer would have been, “Because it’s dark out and I’m the only one on the road except for you and you were parked back in those creepy shadows with your lights off.” 

He continued the questioning, “Where are you headed.” 

Looking up to him bleary-eyed, I answered, “Oregon, but I just left my apartment a few minutes ago… and it’s crazy I’m already pulled over, just my luck.” 

His eyebrows went up, but he waved me on with only a warning.

He added, “Watch out for deer.” 

Indeed, a number of deer did jump out in front of me on this trip.  But I didn’t hit any of them.

State Signs (Utah)

So the next time I was pulled over by a policeman was some 4,000 miles later in Utah at a speed trap. 

“You were going 66 in a 50 mph zone back there, Boss,” he said. 

I blinked twice.  Why did he call me boss?

“What, how’s that?  I thought the speed limit was 65?” 

“Well, it was, but it just switched down to 50.” 

Oh. 

Fortunately, after running my tags and detaining me for a coons age he came back and reported, “Well Boss, I’m giving you a huge break tonight and letting you off with just a warning.” 

I heaved a sigh of relief, “Thanks for that, and believe me I’ll really be watching my speed from now on.” 

He looked up from his paperwork in surprise and waved his hand absently, “Don’t worry about that, the speed limit goes back up to 65 just ahead.” 

Oh.

I guess there was one other somewhat humorous incident I had with the law, this time in California. 

I had parked at a bank to pick up some cash (the honest way of course, I wasn’t robbing the bank).  Later I discovered a police SUV had parked right behind me such that I couldn’t back out of my parking stall.  Believe me, I tried. 

After muchos efforts to squeeze out I finally gave up in frustration. 

Exiting my vehicle I noticed there were now several more police cars, and a knot of officers milling about.  It didn’t look to me like they were doing anything too exciting, mainly filling out forms and such so I went over and asked one of them if they could please move their squad car so I could continue my Western Adventure. 

So that didn’t go over very well.  Not the most friendly chap, that one. 

I went back and examined the situation.  Maybe a 30 point turn would do the trick to squeeze out?  Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

Finally, with much perseverance I grazed out with inches to spare.  Like Seth always says, “An inch is as good as a mile.”  I wondered what the policeman would have thought if I’d accidentaly taken his rear bumper off?  Glad I didn’t have to find out.

Arizona and Navajo Indians

State signs (Arizona)

Driving through a remote section of the Navajo Indian Reservation in Arizona I was surprised to catch only three radio stations.  One of them was an Indian talk show.  Folks like Sitting Rock and Sunshine called in. 

They were discussing the plight of native cultures.  One man lamented the fact many Indians couldn’t speak their native tongue: “Everywhere else people speak their native language, in Europe they speak their mother tongue, and in Australia they speak their native language, but here we are losing our spoken heritage.”  Australia?

Another fellow had this to say, “I just can’t hardly watch any TV anymore.  I can’t watch it because nearly all the shows depict Indians in such bad light – as savage, ignorant, and always the bad guys.” 

It was interesting hearing them air their grievances.  I felt bad for their plight.  Honestly wished their situation was better than selling souvenirs in booths along the highway (which I saw a lot of).  They got a bum deal a couple hundred years ago.

Talk radio aside, I did buy a turquoise bead bracelet from a local Navajo woman who was quite friendly, helpful and pleasant.  I asked her if she could speak much Navajo and she said no. 

rugs_for_sale

Progressive California

California does many things weird.  For instance, they stop you at the border as if you were crossing into another country instead of another state. 

They asked me such probing questions as, “Are you transporting any fruit or vegetables?” 

I thought about this for a bit, then pointed to the sandwich I was eating and said, “Well, this has tomatoes in it.” 

She thought about that, then responded, “That should be ok, do you have any other fruit or vegetables?” 

I thought some more, then added, “There are two more sandwiches in the trunk of my car, and they have tomatoes on them too…?” 

She waved me through. 

California does other weird things.  At the gas stations all the nozzles have a special anti-vapor rubber boot which seals up against your car.  Not sure what that does exactly.  Maybe so you can still smoke while filling and not blow up your car?

But that’s better than Oregon where you’re not even allowed to pump your own gasoline. Not to mention once an Oregonian Filling Attendant gave me incorrect directions to Subway.

California is big on recycling.  I could hardly find a trash can for all my leaking lead acid batteries and spare cell phones.

arches

The worse thing about California is their McDonald’s aren’t partaking in the Free Coffee Promotional deal. 

So I walked into a McDonalds in California and told them I wanted some free coffee.  The lady looked at me strange and was like, “What are you talking about?” 

“Yeah, you know, the deal where you give everyone free coffee until November 21st?” 

She looked even more perplexed, then went back and got her manager.  He came out with an icy step and said coldly, “We’re not participating in that nationwide promotional deal, sorry.” 

Was it that same McDonald’s with the bathroom sign that read, “Only paying patrons can use this bathroom”?  

Though sometimes I did feel a little bad stopping at McDonald’s and just using their free wi-fi, free bathrooms, and free coffee.

Speaking of signs, I’ve seen some unusual ones……

Signs Signs Signs

Out on the coast you see Evacuation signs everywhere.  I mean Tsunami Evacuation signs. According to my brother who lives out on the West Coast they don’t have any sirens though.  So the locals know where to evacuate to, but not when a Tsunami is going to hit.

The Tsunami Sign shows a picture of a man fleeing with a blue wave curling behind him.  Violent, that. 

I ate at a restaurant called The Big Wave.  While there, my sister-in-law ordered a Tsunami Burger.  It lived up to its name, literally the largest I’ve seen, bar none. 

But back to signs, I’ve seen tons of different wildlife crossing signs.  In Kansas I’m used to seeing Deer Crossing signs, but on this trip I’ve seen many more.  Such as: 

Moose Crossing Sign

  • Cattle Crossing
  • Elk Crossing
  • Buffalo Crossing
  • Mountain Lion Crossing
  • and Moose Crossing 

I really wanted to see a moose so slowed down after that one in Idaho and kept my eyes peeled in the forest.  Alas, all to no avail.  No moose. 

After the Mountain Lion sign (my niece calls these “pantlers”) I saw some road kill of a small animal.  I was just sure someone had hit a baby mountain lion while their attention was distracted by the sign… but after checking… no, unfortunately it was just a rabbit.

There have been variations on the Deer Crossing sign too.  One read, “Major Deer Crossing.”  Wow.  But my favorite was, “Deer migration crossing.”  Hey, I didn’t know deer migrated!

Ironically, of the deer that jumped in front of my car or were standing by the side of the road I don’t believe any of them were at a designated crossing location.  Just goes to prove deer can’t read signs which is what I‘ve always suspected. 

Where in America Is Most Beautiful?

Each place has a beauty of it’s own and it would be hard (for me) to say which part was prettiest of the country I saw. 

There were some gems, including the following:

Yellowstone National Park:

Yellowstone

Badlands of South Dakota:

Badlands

Yosemite National Park:

Yosemite Valley

Columbian River Gorge:

Hood River Gorge

The Boonies of Idaho (East of Lewiston):

idaho

Cascade Mountain Range (Marys Peak):

Marys_peak

Pacific Coast (Indian Beach):

Coastal Beach

Grand Canyon in Arizona (Grandview Overlook):

Grand Canyon

Colors of the Pacific Northwest (At the Top of Multnomah Falls):

Scenery_Oregon

Wintery Wyoming:

Horses

Redwood Forests of California:

California Forest

The Mojave Desert:

The Mojave

But The Winner Is…

In the final analysis, I don’t think anything can beat the ocean in terms of sheer beauty. 

The rocky coasts, beaches, and panoramas of northern California and Oregon were stunning:

Sunset

Ocean

Sunset

haystack_rock

After the ocean, I guess Kansas comes in a close second.  Though the Grand Canyon was cool too. 

I wanted to go on a helicopter ride at the Grand Canyon but they were like $200-$500 dollars so I opted for the Imax instead.  Even that was a little expensive: $12.50 plus 9% Arizona sales tax. 

But they gave me a free Oats ‘N Honey granola bar with the show so it was all good.

Where in America Felt Most Remote?

The loneliest stretch of country I went through was, surprisingly, the hills of Northwest Nebraska.  Who’d have thunk? 

At one point I remember travelling about an hour there without seeing a single tree or car! 

It was eerie and I hoped for no car trouble.

OpenRoad

What Have I Learned?

One observation I made is that, compared to Haiti, America is pretty much like Heaven.  And I’ve travelled across both Haiti and America. 

But I wonder, when we get to Heaven will we look back and say America was pretty dumpy in comparison?  Probably. 

Has this trip had any special spiritual significance?  I’m not sure yet.  But probably.

After spending so much time driving you’d think there would have been plenty of time to think.  But truthfully, most the time I was too busy negotiating windy back roads, taking in the scenery, juggling between my handheld GPS, shifting gears, and poring over my jumbo-sized Rand McNally’s road atlas. 

Not to mention all the picture taking from the windows, eating snacks, listening to local radio stations, and recording gas mileage stats. 

I’ve decided someone has to be a little crazy (and young at heart?) to attempt a solo road trip like this.  It was daunting at times… I never knew where the next night would be spent, and sometimes navigation was tricky as I stayed on two-lane back roads to experience more remote America. 

Thankfully my brother Luke doubled as my personal 411 roadside navigation assistant (when my cell phone had signal). Thanks Luke!

Remote America

Here are at least 10 things I learned:

  1. It’s a good idea to carry tire chains when crossing the mountains in winter
  2. Driving 15 hours in one day is possible
  3. McDonald’s has pretty good coffee for $1
  4. America is a big place
  5. Brothers are nice (I visited 2 of mine on this trip)
  6. Brethren Californian’s are nice too (they put me up free one night)
  7. Honda Accord’s are workhorses (I’ve decided to name mine, “Old Faithful”)
  8. Mount Rushmore is probably the most touristy location in America
  9. It took Lewis & Clark two years to travel as far as I did in five days
  10. As interesting as scenery is, relationships are more so.  The best parts of my trip were time spent with family. 

Fort ClatsopSeth & Co in Texas

Keeping a Childlike Wonder

I like the following quote by General MacArthur:

“Whether 70 or 16, there is, in every being’s heart the love of
wonder, the sweet amazement of the stars, and the star-like
things and thoughts, the undaunted challenge of events,
the unfailing childlike appetite for ‘What Next?’

You are as young as your faith, as old as your doubt,
as young as your self-confidence, as old as your fear,
as young as your hope, as old as your despair.”

~General Douglas MacArthur

One late night around 1 AM I pulled into this place called Afton Canyon in Southeast California. I was tired, and it was chilly. But when I stepped from my car into this dry desert I was greeted with one of the clearest nights I’ve ever seen. 

The stars were brilliant like a fairytale, so I stayed up another hour watching them and enjoying the solitude. I’m glad there is still a little wonder in me yet, a little “sweet amazement at the stars…”

Ducks & Geese

I got a new camera so decided to walk around my apartment complex and snap pictures.  I’d never noticed how many ducks and geese we have.  They pose pretty well for pictures I found…

I was struck at how pretty they were… it seems God has given every animal a beauty of its own.

Was just reading something Jesus said about birds from Luke chapter 12:

“They do not sow or reap, they have no storeroom or barn; yet God feeds them. And how much more valuable you are than birds!”

Three in a RowMallad Duck

Here We Go

Looking for FoodFall Colors

Homeward Bound

I’m in the Chicago O’Hare airport getting ready to spend another night sleeping in the terminal.  Oh joy.

So I didn’t kiss the ground when I got off the plane in Miami, but did step outside to bask in the aura of freedom and prosperity this country exudes.  Great to be back in good ‘ol USA!

Even though my primary citizenship is with God’s Kingdom and my highest loyalties are there, nonetheless as I entered America I felt a swelling sense of pride in the great privilege I have of being an American citizen.  For all its’ faults, the US is truly still a great place.  At least I like it. 

I didn’t know what I had here until I left and saw my other options.

Having said that, Miami airport doesn’t really feel like America proper as it gives off a dinstinctly Latin American vibe.  I caught myself trying to speak Spanish with the US customs agent who looked and talked foreign, but was indeed quite American.

One funny incident happened as I was shuffling through a lengthy security checkpoint in Miami:  An airport staffer was being downright rude in directing people through the confusing labyrinth of cordoned off security lanes.  I could tell this lady in front of me was becoming disgusted with him (as we all were) because she was making ugly faces behind his back.  I had a hunch she wasn’t American, so leaned over and asked where she was from?  “Scotland,” she answered in a thick brogue.  I laughed, then told her confidentially something to the effect, “Well, I’m from Kansas and I want to personally say to you, ‘Welcome to America!’”  She seemed better after that and even began smiling, adding, “Aye, many an American seem ah-be friendly, but not all of ‘em, eh?” 

Language is truly a big deal.  It’s great to be able to understand and talk to people again.  I can even talk to Scotts, brogue notwithstanding.  I never realized how much I depended on speaking until I couldn’t anymore.  Over the last six weeks spending so much time with kids I couldn’t help compare it with the time earlier this summer as a camp counselor in Missouri.  There I was able to deeply communicate with my campers, regaling them with Bible information and personal testimonies, not to mention administer discipline and exchange jokes and banter.  All those activities are much more difficult (impossible?) when you can’t speak freely. 

“Comprendo?” they would often ask hopefully after jabbering some important tidbit of information to me.  Sadly, the answer was often no.

Despite the language hurdle, I have built connections with Dominican’s who only speak Spanish, like the neat teenage boy below.  His name is Haziel and his 16th Birthday is next week – feel really bad I’ll miss it…

100_004

And I’ve gotten to know kids who speak only Haitian Creole, like my favorite girl from Son of God in the picture below (she’s the adorable one who burst into tears one day when she learned I had to leave).

yayene

But regardless of what language people speak, they are all still people. 

One analogy I came up with regarding different cultures is different operating systems on a computer.  Like a Mac versus a PC: similar hardware but different software.  They act different, but do the same things.

Someone from America vs. Haiti make appear different on the outside in regards to customs and lifestyle, but inside they have the same hopes, desires, and fears.

Maslow’s hierarchy of needs has also frequently come to mind on this trip.

I’ve had kids literally beg me for a piece of bread (“Pen? Pen?” they would implore pitifully) as well as literally beg me for attention (and in some cases get angry when they didn’t get it).  These kids had pressing physical and emotional needs.

On the flip side, I’ve also met kids who had a consistent source of daily bread and attention ask me for help with their Math homework.  Their needs were as real as the former, but different: more along the lines of emotional support and educational guidance.

There have been other needs as well.

For instance, I’ve spent late nights with missionaries who perhaps had a need of expressing themselves with someone who could understand and converse.  I think they had a desire to debrief certain life experiences… and I had a desire to learn from their experiences.

I’ve met still others (and I may be in this category) who seem to have every need met… yet who are searching for meaning, who wonder if every pursuit in life is pointless or if there is a God who has meaningful work for them?  Work of a redemptive nature: overcoming the tide of evil in this world with a tide of good… through divine power, through supernatural guidance, and through the challenge of deep, vulnerable relationships. Is the possibility of living meaningfully pure fiction, or potential reality?

On a lighter note – and completely different topic – I’ve had fun hearing the music abroad and seeing the delight song and dance bring to young and old. 

The boys watched a movie last week with a catchy song in it and ever since have sung it over and over, often to the accompaniment of clapping and much laughter.  Good times.  They get into the singing on Sunday mornings too, but enjoy even more aiding Jon’s guitar strumming with sundry percussive instruments.  Sometimes on beat, sometimes not.

At the airports in both Port-au Prince and and Puerto Plata there were bands of live music playing “mariachi-style” repetitive upbeat tunes.  Kinda fun, yet also kinda odd as I’ve never seen a comparable equivalent in an American airport.

By far the most moving music I’ve heard in my travels was a group of Haitians singing at the YWAM base.  Their harmonies were beautiful, the language crisp and punctuated, and their lifted voices exuding such passion and emotion it nearly made me cry.  It was unique, uplifting, and special – wish I’d gotten a movie.

Below is a picture of several of us playing around with the keyboard:

IMG_9124

OK, enough soliloquy and waxing eloquent for one night.  Time for bed!  Thanks for reading all this if you did, hopefully it was beneficial and not too boring.

DR Update and… Are There Benefits to Being Materially Poor?

I just snapped this picture.  It is the view out the double doors in my bedroom:

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I think it’s technically jungle around here, but it seems to me more like “jungly forest” if there is such a thing. 

Oh, and I can see the ocean far better in real life than in the picture above.  It’s the view I wake up to every morning.

Highlights of this past week include 1) having a Mexican supper over at Jon and Shannon’s, then watching videos of their ministry after 2) snorkeling in clear ocean water with tropical fish 3) playing a Sunday afternoon game of baseball with the boys and 4) jogging/walking to town and back (~7 miles).

Not much else to report.  Life is pretty much in a routine here.  Eat, work, play, hangout, go to church.  Once again I find myself in a community where I eat, work, play, hangout, and go to church with the same group of people.  Which I enjoy.  Bonds happen quickly in this type of environment.

I’m currently reading What’s So Amazing About Grace by Phillip Yancey.  If you haven’t read it yet I recommend it.  His thoughts are deep, but his style is conversational and he tells lots of stories so it’s quite readable. 

The main thing I’ve been impressed with from the book is how much God’s gift of letting me be his friend is totally free.  I can’t earn his favor, He simply offers his unconditional love to me in the face of my spiritual poverty because… that’s what he does.

Notice how I wrote above that I am spiritually poor?  It’s true, I’m quite poor spiritually.  Which in some ways is a good thing as there is a blessing associated with that type of poverty (see Matthew 5:3).  It’s odd to think being poor in any category would be a plus, but according to how I read the Be-Attitudes in Matthew 5, the journey towards God begins with an acknowledgment of spiritual poverty. 

I was recently struck with a verse I read in James on the subject of poverty:

“Listen, my dear brothers: Has not God chosen those who are poor in the eyes of the world to be rich in faith…?” (James 2:5)

On this trip I have seen very materially poor people and in certain cases been immensely impressed at how they live their lives by faith: In faith they look to the Lord for the daily supplying of their needs.  The words in the Lord’s Prayer, “Give us today our daily bread” hold literal meaning for them. 

I’ve seen those who have their faith stretched far more than mine because I have money to cover my needs (and enough to even cover most my wants as well). 

For instance, my translator (and his immediate and extended family) have many pressing needs that are easily fixable with cash, but he can’t fix them that way because…. he doesn’t have enough cash.  In fact, he hardly has any.

And it’s not just locals who are materially poor.  I’ve gotten to know a missionary family who basically live on financial fumes and I can tell it wears on them… even though they try not to worry.  God is stretching their faith in real ways because they are living at the end of their financial rope.

So that verse in James really resonated with me because it is what I have seen and experienced recently.

Almost enough to make me want to go broke myself.  Give all my money away and live by faith.  But not quite, I still enjoy my savings account.  In fact, my materialistic side has gotten quite the best of me recently – it’s really quite bad!  In the past several weeks I’ve bought a number of things online that I “needed.”  My return to the states will be kinda like Christmas.  But I really needed those things, believe me.

I heard a quote recently along the lines of how our giving often conceals our withholding.  I would say that is true for me.  There have been times where I’ve given generously but then as a reward turned right around and given back generously to myself.  Can’t remember if I’ve ever given to the point where it hurt. Don’t think I have.

I heard of a guy recently who was known as a philanthropist by any standard, he gave away generously to many.  One day his daughter told him she didn’t think he gave away enough.  “What, me? Why do you say that?” was his injured reply.  She answered, “Because you never give to the point where it hurts.”

Reminds me of the story in the Bible about the widow who put into the temple treasury two mites.  The crazy thing is Jesus said she put in more than all the others… which astonished those who heard because others had put in large sums.  How did Jesus explain the math?  Here’s what he said:

“They all gave out of their wealth; but she, out of her poverty, put in everything—all she had to live on.” (Mark 12:44)

In short, she gave until it hurt, which is all the more remarkable because she had so little to give in the first place.

Seeing generosity firsthand amongst those who don’t have much is inspiring. 

One day while I was at the orphanage in Haiti a group of American’s came to visit for the morning.  They lined the kids up and handed out candy to each of them: little bags of gummy bears.  Remember, these kids don’t get much and their living conditions are dismal so this was a big deal for them – they were excited!  But what did they do?  Several come up to me and give me theirs!  When I protested they insisted.  One older boy (who I had gotten to know and spent some time with) gave me all of his candy, he never even opened his bag.  He went through the line then promptly walked straight to me and gave me his whole bag of gummy bears and wouldn’t listen to my protests.  He insisted.

I remember feeling a mixture of emotions… special and touched at the gesture, anger at the overall situation, and frustration his generosity got in the way of accepting even this very small gift.

Jon (the director where I’m at currently) told a story about one of the full-time local staff who works here at the Ranch (he’s practically family, a neat fellow I know) who doesn’t have much materially but is a generous man.  Awhile back a bag of donated tee-shirts came through and were given to him.  Jon said he’ll never forget how this man excitedly just opened the bag right there, pulled out the first shirt… and handed it straight over to one of the part-time construction workers standing nearby.  “Here, this is for you,” he said.  Jon said it was crazy how he didn’t even check to see if it was the right size or how many were left in the bag or which ones he might want to keep versus give away, he just started passing out tee-shirts.  On the one hand Jon was thinking, “Hey! these were for you, not for you to give away!” but on the other hand he was amazed at this fellow’s generosity.  The time lag between accepting his gift and giving it away was instantaneous. He could have taken them all for himself (which he was supposed to do) but instead gave free gave generously.

Not sure how I got off on this (lengthy) tangent.  Was just sitting here thinking I should write a blog post since it had been awhile and this is what came out of my fingers…

In closing, here is a picture of Jonas washing clothes with his friend Nick:

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Anxiety Related to Expectations

I’ve noticed the less I try to accomplish, the lower my anxiety becomes.

However, it’s usually not enough for me to have just one goal.  I often have about ten.  Maybe you can’t relate to this, but I don’t usually feel good about myself unless I’m accomplishing things.

This trip has been a good example.  My goals were many:

  1. to see as much as possible of cultures outside the US
  2. to pack as much as possible into six weeks
  3. to work on learning both Creole and Spanish during my time here
  4. to figure out the local infrastructures (for instance, I’ve acquired Haiti & Dominican SIM cards for my cell phone)
  5. try to encourage everyone I meet
  6. continue reading books
  7. interview every missionary I run into on their entire life story
  8. donate Bibles and other stuff
  9. visit as many different local churches as possible (so far I’ve visited four)
  10. figure out what I want to do when I grow up
  11. never miss a day of personal devotions
  12. test the various gear I brought along
  13. keep my clothes clean (even if this means doing laundry by hand at 10pm using water from a rain barrel)
  14. continue blogging (and journaling and e-mail correspondence)
  15. get at least eight hours of sleep every night

The list goes on and on. 

Anxiety begins cropping up when my goals interfere with each other.  Which happens continually.  (Even in real life back in the US)

I’ve noticed other people have a different approach. 

The friend I went to Haiti with seemed to have only one goal: to help improve the lives of the orphans we were visiting.

That goal streamlined all his actions and decisions.  I noticed he never seemed to get stressed out, and I think his trick was that he simply kept the main thing the main thing. 

Whenever opportunities arose to do something non-orphanage related or other responsibilities encroached on his time he quickly filtered them out as “non-essential” because they didn’t align with his primary goal of spending time with the kids and doing everything he could for them.

So today I’m trying to follow that philosophy.  My single purposed goal for today is to simply give my body a good rest and chance to heal from the infection I’ve had in my leg/foot. 

To that end I’ve stayed in bed all day.  Though I have written a few e-mails, got my auto insurance renewed, finished a book, put together this blog post…

Speaking of goals, I wonder what a good life goal would be?

For starters, I think it would be healthy to have a goal of always enjoying and appreciating the “here and now.”  To not always be looking for a more rosy tomorrow, but to savor life in the present.  I could use a lot of help on this one!

The Apostle Paul said he made it his goal to please Christ (2 Corinthians 5:9).  That seems like a good one.

Perhaps Jesus laid out the best goal when he said,

“So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’  For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.

But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well.

Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.” (Matt 6)

But I wonder… what does seeking first the kingdom and righteousness of Christ look like practically?

Blessed With a Burden

Megan has lived in Haiti for a year or so – she just wrote a blog piece about a child from the same orphanage I recently visited for ten days.  Her passion comes out better than if I tried writing so I’m linking it here.  Some of the things she writes are just how I feel too…  hearing about exploitation and seeing it firsthand are two separate things.  The latter makes me angry and want to do something.  But what?

I didn’t get to meet Megan while in Haiti – had a chance to one day but it was hectic and didn’t work out.  I remember that day feeling it would be best I stayed with the kids.

Here’s the link: Where’s Gabriel

Update from the Dominican Republic

Food, Food, Wonderful Food

One of the difficult things about this trip has been not eating foods I’m used to.  For the first couple weeks in Haiti I ate lots of rice and beans.  Then when I got to Dominican Republic, a Latin American country, I expected burritos and enchiladas.  But turns out those are Mexican dishes and this isn’t Mexico, it’s the Caribbean.

So since arriving here I’ve primarily had the standard food of the tropics which consists largely of rice and fruit and vegetables.  Bananas, boiled plantains, guyabano, potatoes, etc. 

Lunch today was somewhat typical: a dish of rice and pinto beans mixed with fried cabbage and a type of fish meat.  The side was a banana.  Not quite the same as Church’s Chicken, but probably healthier.

Papaya is another fruit we have often, it comes from a tropical tree and is colored orange like cantaloupe but has the texture of watermelon and tastes uniquely sweet.  I like it ok, but everything new takes time to adapt.

But what I’ve really been wanting is pizza.  Yesterday morning I even wrote it down in my prayer journal during my quiet time with God.  I told him I really wanted a pizza.  Please?

Yesterday was Jessie’s birthday, another one of the volunteers working here.  The married couple running the ranch invited both him and I out to a restaurant with them last night to celebrate Jessie’s birthday.  Of course I accepted!  And immediately began wondering what type of restaurant we’d be visiting…? 

So evening came and we piled into their SUV and headed to town.  We drove to a waterfront area and walked into a fancy place and then out the back to the beach.  Turns out the table we dined at was actually on the beach!  The sand was smoothed out so you could walk on it easier, but we were literally right by the ocean.  It was the coolest thing, I’d never eaten somewhere like that before. 

But I was still thinking, “Ok, so probably a fancy place like this only serves crab legs and sushi or something.”  However, when I opened my menu, lo and behold, the first page was all PIZZA!  Almost an entire page of their menu. 

And at the same time I remember Jon opening his menu and saying, “Oh, the pizza here is great!” 

And it was.  Call it coincidence if you want, but I gave a special thanks to God for answering my specific prayer, even though it was a selfish luxury.

Working in Tropical Heat = Never-ending Sweat!

My time here in the DR has not been all picnics and sipping lemonade in the shade.  In fact, I’ve worked harder in the last week than I have in many moons!

In the mornings I help with construction for a new boys home they’re building (been doing electrical work) and also mechanical odds and ends that need done around camp (like fixing flat tires, working on their gas trimmer, etc). 

Of course there is no air conditioning here so we sweat tons.  Luckily there are ceiling fans in the bedrooms which help for sleeping at night (when the electricity is working).

The afternoons are largely spent with helping math at the school.  Not speaking the language is frustrating, but much of math is in numbers which transcend language.  I’ve been working on learning numbers in Spanish but have had some difficulty mastering counting from zero to a million in one week!

I’ve noticed it can be easy to forget our beautiful surroundings.  Like the classroom I work in is on a second story with open walls that look out over the ocean.  The roof is thatch and the floor is wooden plank.  It’s the neatest classroom I’ve ever seen, but when it comes down to it, when helping someone with their math it doesn’t really matter where you’re at, you still have to engage your mind (and theirs) on the problem at hand.  After awhile you end up forgetting where you are.  At least I do.

Healthio, Healthio, Where Art Thou? 

The heat here drains energy quickly.  The bugs don’t help.  I get bit by mosquitoes every day…  this morning I was washing clothes with the boys (by hand) and got bit by even more mosquitoes for my trouble.

(Side note: people that wash clothes by hand their whole life get it down to a science.  On this trip I’ve been advised by both Haitians and now Dominicans on the “correct” way to go about it.  This morning I felt proud when one of the boys told me I was starting to get it.)

But back to bugs, yesterday I got bit by a fire-ant which stung like crazy and left a welt.  Note to self, “Beware of fire-ants.”

And while I’m listing ailments, I should mention my right foot is not a happy camper.  I stepped on something sharp at he beach last weekend which left a nasty blister that has became painful to walk on.  Then on Monday I banged my foot on the corner of a block of concrete which caused the top of my foot to swell up the entire week.  Fortunately I’m walking on it pretty well today.

It’s easy to take health for granted…  but when you don’t have it you quickly remember how nice a gift it really is.

Language and the Lack Thereof

There is plenty of language flying around here.  Problem is, I don’t speak it. 

For instance, I eat with the boys three meals a day and during each meal the table is full of banter that I don’t understand a word of (sometimes I understand a word here and there but not enough to tell what’s going on).  Everyone will randomly erupt into laughter and I totally missed it.  This can really makes me feel left out and I end up frequently zoning off in my own world.

Someone told me you’re fluent in a language when you dream in that language.  Well, last night I had a dream where I was alone with people who only spoke different languages.  I kept getting my few Creole and Spanish words mixed up and no one understood me.  It was really more of a nightmare.  Then I woke up and realized our ceiling fan was off because electricity had gone out again and decided such a nasty dream was likely precipitated by the gnawing heat!

I find when I’m in places I don’t speak the language it begins taking a toll on me because it takes energy trying to figure out what’s going on all the time.  It’s hard to really relax.

Fortunately, here at this Boys home there is enough activity going on I’m not forced to speak ad try understanding all the time.  Versus in Haiti at the orphanage I was the center of attention and was constantly being stretched.

On the flip side, in Haiti I had a translator which helped a lot.  Here there are people around who can translate but that is not their job so you always feel a little like you’re imposing to ask.  With my translator in Haiti I didn’t feel bad to ask, that’s what I was paying him to do! 

Thankfully I hit it off super-well with the America couple who run this Boys home and can talk with them freely.  In fact, we were up until 2am last night talking!  So I get my talking out on them… poor folks! 

Yeah, they are such a neat couple who have amazing story after amazing story of God working in their midst.  There lives are – to me – truly inspiring.  It’s so fun hearing their experiences and discussing the Christian life with them.

Definitely a highlight of this trip is the people I’m getting the privilege to get to know and rub shoulders with.  Of course the downside is I’m missing getting to spend time with the people I love at home!  Ahh, life is never perfect. 

A final thought on language: I’m learning first hand how vital a prerequisite learning a language is before any type of deep cross-cultural relationship can be built.

A Fun Haircut

Jessie and I gave each other hair cuts recently.  Jessie had long flowing hair because he hadn’t cut it in two years.  But he wanted me to give him a buzz cut.  So I did!  It was a lot of fun!  Kinda felt like I was cutting Samson’s hair or something.  Just the type of thing you always want to do but never have the opportunity to.

Pain and Misery

I often think of the seventy kids I left behind in Haiti. 

In relation to food, they get two meals a day, usually pretty much always the same thing: rice & beans. 

I can catch myself complaining about all the healthy and tasty food I’m getting here (what? more plantains?) and wish for pizza (which I got!).  But honestly I felt a little guilty eating the pizza thinking of the kids back at the orphanage who have perhaps never had pizza or rarely even anything special. 

I consoled myself with the fact they probably wouldn’t like pizza.  Though I’m sure anyone would have liked eating at a nice restaurant on the beach.

Jon and I were talking about recently the difficulty in knowing how to balance enjoying the good things in life God has given us and how much to sacrifice in our attempt to help others. 

Jon talked about coming back to the States from the Philippines when he was younger and going through reverse culture shock where he wouldn’t spend any money on extraneous stuff (like buying a Coke) in light of the agonizing need he had just seen and knowing how big an impact even a little money could make in their lives.

There are no easy answers, but I think these are good issues to think through and this trip is giving me an opportunity to do just that.

Pictures

I haven’t taken any pictures recently, but here are a couple others took:

the group

These are the friendly folks I’m staying with here in DR for a month. Group shot taken from “Family Night” last Tuesday. 

beach_day

This picture was taken at the beach last Sunday.

My Heart is Hurting

My heart aches.  I have a massive lump in my throat and feel like crying. 

I’ve been transported from a place of incarnate misery and oppression to a place of incarnate joy and love.

I remember when I was a kid we lived in this house where every time someone flushed the toilet the shower water would turn freezing cold.  It was a shocking phenomena to the person showering: one second steaming hot water, the next second freezing cold water. 

That is how I feel now, in shock over the polar extremes I’m experiencing.

Where I’m at is a boy’s home.  Arrived here last night after an exhausting two-day bus trip with some crazy adventures thrown in.  To say it was stressful would be an understatement.

Currently ten boys live here, all of whom came directly off the street.  They are all either orphaned or abandoned and have each undergone tragedy in their life beyond what I can imagine… their emotional needs are immense.  But here they become part of a family… for life, literally.  It’s amazing.  Here the boys are well fed, well clothed, and live in an enviable tropical location.  It’s like Swiss Family Robinson.  The couple who runs the place have been doing this ministry for 20+ years. 

The property I’m at consists of several buildings on a secluded plot of land outside Sosua, Santa Domingo.  The location is knock-out beautiful.  On top a hill we have forest views surrounding us as far as the eye can see with an amazing ocean view for backdrop.  The grounds are well maintained tropical green foliage.  Gentle ocean breezes waft through the open-style structures and intermingled through the property are quaint “resort-like” buildings with cobbled paths connecting them.  I can’t even describe the peace and serenity here.  Not to mention there is an outdoor basketball court, an open grassy area for soccer, a small swimming pool, and an awesome beach nearby.

This morning we had a relaxed church service in a second story open-air pavilion area.  We sang songs in Spanish to guitar and had a Bible lesson I couldn’t understand because I don’t speak Spanish.

Then we spent the entire afternoon at a nearby beach.  We swam, flew a kite (got it stuck in a tree), caught big waves with our boogie boards, snorkeled, and had a picnic.

Here the children receive an education, vocational training, recreation, but most importantly Christian discipleship.  They learn about God and the power of restoration He can bring.  They also experience – probably for the first time – what it’s like to be truly loved and part of a family.

One of my main tasks here will be helping out with the school each afternoon.  So I need to start cramming muchos Spanish into my head quickly!

The contrast between here and where I was (which was more akin to a concentration camp) is so dramatic my breath is taken away.  Like, I can’t describe it.  Just want to cry.  Not sure why, but I think it’s because I feel so bad for the seventy kids I left behind in Port-au Prince who are so often hungry, who wear rags for clothes, who are desperate for attention, who live in a bleak unsafe building, who have only a tiny concrete yard to play in (and wash in and cook in and clean in), and who worse of all have nobody to love them.

It’s totally heartbreaking.  But this place is totally amazing.

Bon Bagay! A Missionary Interview

“Haiti is known as a missionary graveyard.  The burnout rate here is high.”  I was talking with a long-term missionary about what he found most discouraging working in Haiti over the years. 

He continued, “When the going gets rough, people often bail.  It’s discouraging to see fellow workers beat down and ‘run out of town.’  That shouldn’t happen.  Why does it?  Perhaps one reason is because people frequently come running from something instead of running to something.” 

“Physically this place isn’t that bad to live in,” he added, “there are nice cafes, beautiful beaches, cell phones, and easy access to internet [perhaps a rosier picture than I would paint] but spiritually the only way one can make it here is to have a personally vibrant relationship with the Lord and be relationally plugged in with fellow believers encouraging each other.”  

“There are a lot of people doing good things in Haiti.  Yet it’s so important for us to not forget this: our ministries are not our message.  An orphanage isn’t the message and a feeding program isn’t the message.  The message is Christ.  When we forget that, we become mere social workers.”

I continued the interview by asking how open he felt Haitians were to the message of Christ. 

“Haiti is a very religious place,” he answered.  “The frequency and fervency of Haitian prayer and worship would put a lot of American Christianity to shame.  But while the openness of Haitians to hear the gospel and be taught from the Bible is high, the openness to seriously respond to Christ and put him first in their lives is very low.” 

He added, “This is one reason small group discipleship is so important here.  There are teams who come, hold a rally, and get professions from hundreds if not thousands of people.  But generally these professions leave no lasting inner change.”

I asked how he came to Haiti originally.  “I was led to Haiti,” he responded.  “I don’t claim to be called to Haiti, but I’ve been led here.  A calling isn’t something I’m sure I understand, because for me God has led one step at a time, never placed a calling on my life to just one place.”

“People do frequently ask if I’m concerned about safety living here.  I believe that’s the wrong question to ask.  The real question is whether I’m doing what God wants me to be doing.  Because that will always be the safest place. 

Daniel was safe in the lion’s den and Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego were safe in the fiery furnace.  Even Stephen was safe in God’s hands while being stoned, and Jesus was safe in God’s hands while hanging on the cross.  So the question isn’t, ‘How safe is it here,’ but, ‘are we doing what God wants us to be doing?’”

I was encouraged by our short visit and glad he got up at 6am to personally meet with me before I headed out to catch my bus to the DR.  That meant a lot!

So I say, “Bon Bagay!”  (literally, “good things,” but they use it here sometimes as emphasis for an ending…)

The Power of a Smile

Here in Haiti there is so much need everywhere it is overwhelming…  hard to know what would truly help.

Not sure if I helped much during my time at the orphanage, but at least I helped put a few smiles on their faces.

Kiddos

I taught the kid sitting next to me in the picture above the song, “God is so Good, He’s so Good to Me” and he loved it and sang it over and over and over (with actions), it was funny.  I tried explaining to him what the words meant in Creole but felt bad later when I realized I had translated it as, “God is so Tasty, He’s so Tasty to Me.”  Oh well, still kinda Biblical from that verse, “Taste and see that the Lord is good…”

Anyways, he loved singing and even taught me a few Christian Creole songs too.  He would start by teaching me the English words and then the Creole ones.  He was smart!

ps  Here’s an interesting article by Steve Saint on poverty:

http://projecting-poverty-where-it-doesnt-exist

I just finished Steve’s book titled Walking His Trail: Signs of God along the Way and thought it was good, I recommend it. Always love hearing stories of God working in the lives of others.

pps See my flip-flops in the picture above???  They are getting a hard workout, but still holding up well.  I’ve seen a ka-jillion people wearing flip flops here so I really fit in. Well, at least my feet do.

Quick Update From a Different World

Today is my 9th day in Carrefour, Haiti.  This is the first day I’ve had internet, and amazingly, on my laptop no less.  I’m on wi-fi in a small internet café now.  Creole music is blazing, it’s quite warm (i.e. blazing hot), and I’m sitting at a rustic table. 

The internet is veeeery slow.  Like slower than a seven-day itch.  Speaking of itching, I’ve got some bug bites on my feet.  But that’s not a big deal.

So today is the fourth day I’ve asked the internet guy if we were up and running.  Today he said we were!  Hurrah!  However, it is my observation that was an optimistic assessment, at best.  In fact, I’m pulling my hair out because I can’t get into gmail!  (update: it’s fixed now)

It’s not good to be in a hurry around here.  If you get one thing done in a day that’s doing good. 

I got a sim card for my cell phone which gives me a local number.  That’s neat, but to recharge the minutes (which I need to do now) I cross the street and knock on the gate to this lady’s house next door.  She cracks the door open and then you hand her cash (Gourdes) and tell her your telephone number.  She sends you some minutes and closes the gate.  Unfortunately, both times I’ve gone today she wasn’t home.

Infrastructure here leaves something to be desired.  For instance, electricity is sporadic.  Goes out all the time, just randomly flips on and off.  Last night during the church service the lights died while we were singing (I was listening).  It was funny how everyone pulled out their cell phones to use them as light.  Guess some things transcend culture.

Each day so far I’ve been spending time at the orphanage, mainly playing with the kids and giving them lots of attention.  Tangibly it may not seem like I’m doing much, but Jeremy and I have brought a lot of smiles to their faces.  And some tears too.  One super cute little girl (see her picture below) burst into tears one day when she learned I had to leave.  awww… I held her for awhile until she quieted down.  

100_0132

Playing with kids can be tiring, especially in this heat!  especially with a sorty of young’uns following ya ‘round needing a hug or needing to play ball or needing to fall asleep in your lap!  But I love them all and am going to be so sad to leave…  some of them have adopted ME!

100_0129

So Jeremy (the fellow I came with) and I are a big hit here… and the last few days Jenga has been a big hit too.  I’ve played that a LOT.  Getting pretty good, see the tower Jimmy and I built yesterday:

100_0269

During the mornings of three days this past week we had a “Bible lesson” time which went well.  Gotta get some spiritual food into these guys.

One day we took public transportation (tap-tap).  That was a hoot. 

I’ve eaten local food each day so far (i.e. rice and beans, rice and beans, and um, more rice and beans).  But they are tasty.

I’ve been a little sick on and off from the food and what-not but have felt 100% yesterday and today (so far).

I’m learning a lot.  Each day I learn new Creole words.  Each day I learn more about the orphans here.  Each day I learn more about how to get around in Haiti.  Each day I learn many things “Haiti” from our translator.  We talk about the Bible, about life here, about the affects of the earthquake, about doing ministry, about the USA, etc.  I’m learning a lot from him, he’s a super nice guy and a dedicated Christian.

So that’s the quick report for now.  I have a lot more to say but it has have to wait! 

What am I missing at home?

To Inf-haiti and Beyond

I’m in the Chicago airport.  Turns out they have 20 minutes of internet here for free.  And more internet if you want to pay for it.

On a serious note, at times recently I’ve wondered if this trip to Hispaniola was all my initiative or if God was in it at all?

On my flight here to Chicago I felt some confirmation God was in something because my seat was next to an Indian man who seemed to be seeking after God, the only one I noticed on the plane.  Not the only one seeking after God, but the only Indian. 

When I first sat down I realized I should probably talk to him (figuring this might be all providential, etc) but no sooner had I sat down next to him that I fell fast asleep. But after awhile I woke up and thought to myself, “Hey? is this airplane ever going to get off the ground or what?” and then realized we were flying and deduced (from a mental inspection of my watch) we probably had been quite awhile.

Long story short, this fellow was a really nice engineer heading up for a job interview in Ohio.  Of course I suspected he was an engineer right off the bat by the way he had his shirt tucked into his blue jeans.

The two of us ended up having an interesting chat. Turns out he had been reading his Bible but didn’t understand it, particularly the structure.  As fortune would smile, I so happened to have a handout sheet right with me that clearly laid out the structure of all the books of the Bible by category and date.  It was in the same folder as my boarding pass.

Since he had been reading from Genesis I went from there to go on and explain the basic message of the Bible to him, commonly known as the gospel (the good news).  He was very interested and seemed to understand everything I said.  Later we got into talking about the exclusivity of the Bible which can be a touchy subject, but that went ok.

We also discussed other sundry topics such as how gravity and magnetism work.  Neither of us knew, though I have a theory (which he didn’t buy).  He told me about once visiting this crazy place in South Dakota where there’s a gravitational anomaly.  Apparently when you walk into this “zone” everything tilts 45 degrees and you even stand crooked.  He said it was disorienting.  I didn’t tell him I’d been to an equally disturbing place at Silver Dollar City called the Tom Sawyer Exhibit.

So now I’m tired and going to head toward bed.  I’m more worried about oversleeping and missing my flight than I am about not being able to sleep.  I found this perfect spot that has just the right mixture of cozy comforts of home mixed to soft jazz and a spectacular view of the taxiway.

Good night.

Tumblr-ing through Cyberspace

I prefer this blog be kept mainly for original content rather than reposting stuff I find online.

However, I’m always finding cool little tidbits online so the decision was made to branch into yet a new foray of internet publishing: Tumblr. 

Check it out here:

http://simplefollower.tumblr.com/

Now I have Facebook, Twitter, Tumblr, a Blog and over 100 other online accounts.  I’m not joking, it’s ridiculous.

What’s Been Happening, Not Neccesarily How I Feel About It

I’ve been eating fumes this last week so finally made a run to the grocery store.  It was down to the last crumbs at my apartment. Literally, I had crackers and chocolate chips for my mandatory snack last night.  I’ve been living off Taco Bell, church potluck, and free food from family. Though a few days ago I found expired powdered potato flakes in the back of a top shelf that were “Best by May 2010.”  Over a year old, they still tasted good after rehydrating.  Back in May 2010 they must have been phenomenal.

Speaking of this grocery store raid, it put a dent in my cash reserves.  I’d forgot how expensive food is.  When you’re used to only spending $2.45 per meal at Taco Bell you forget the damage a grocery store splurge inflicts.  The upside is I’m all restocked on junk food now.  (Munching on pre-made cookie dough whilst writing this…) At the grocery story I had to keep reminding myself I’m on a fixed income of $0/month now.  Fortuitously, the cookie dough still made the cut.

Speaking of buying, I was shopping for a pair of flip-flops the other day.  “Weird purchase,” you say?  Not really, I’m going to Haiti next week and want to fit in with the locals. The locals wear flip-flops.  Anyways, I started my search at a store I thought would be cheap: Wal-Mart.  They had nothing like what I was looking for so I grudgingly worked my way up to Payless Shoe Source (theirs were too flimsy), Famous Footwear (theirs were the wrong size and too expensive), and finally JC Penny’s.  I cringed walking into Penny’s because I know prices there are ridiculous.  For instance, there were these snazzy jeans I saw that already looked worn out going for $47.  Heck, didn’t they know you can get jeans like that at Goodwill for $4?  Though come to think of it, last time I tried that trick at Goodwill the ones I bought were too short when I got home (they were probably too short at the store too, but for that price I hadn’t bothered trying them on).  When I realized the jeans were the wrong size I was at first perplexed, then had a Eureka! moment realizing I could cut the factory hem out of the bottom.  With my pocket knife that was no problem.  Sadly, it only made the already worn-out jeans look even worsely ridiculous, plus they were still too short.  Then I was in a real dillema… should I donate these now mutilated jeans back to Goodwill?  Or just throw them away?  I decided on the latter option (hey, they were only four dollars). But I digress, back to my flip-flop story: so I found the perfect flip-flops at JC Penny’s and would you believe it?  they were only ten dollars!  Oh yes, I do love deals. Though as I write this I’m wondering if I could have made flip-flops from those jeans I threw away.

Speaking of deals, the deal with flip-flops is they flip and flop a lot.  Probably that’s how they got their name.  I’ve noticed sometimes they even flip right off my feet.  They also occasionally stick the gas pedal down wide open while driving.  I’ve never owned flip-flops before and though I’m finding them dangerous (already dropped something heavy on my big toe, received itchy bug bites on my feet, and nearly wrecked my car) I really like them a lot.  In fact, enough to where I thought of giving them personalized names.  Was going to name the left flip-flop John and the right flip-flop Kerry.  But then I… changed my mind and ended up naming the left flip-flop Flip and the right flip-flop Flop as that seemed to fit them better.  By the way, I don’t know if Kerry’s record was all that incongruous, it’s just what the radio told me and I remembered.

Speaking of people being gullible, while meandering through the mall the other day I was approached by no fewer than two strangers in separate stores thinking I was an employee.  I must look more professional than I feel! One guy in Radio Shack gave me his whole spiel, “So I have this Samsung digital dealy that needs a new power adapter bla-bla….” then he stops and gives me a closer look before adding, nonchalantly, “Oh, ok, so let me guess, you don’t work here… right?”  I’m thinking to myself, “Yes, that guess would be more accurate than your previous guess, which was wrong, which isn’t to say I couldn’t probably still help you, this store isn’t that big and I doubt the power adapters are in hiding.”

Speaking of wrong guesses, I was talking to my brother on the cell phone a few weeks back while returning to camp.  My signal started fading and I knew it would get worse the further I drove so pulled off down a dirt road and parked in front of a cattle gate.  About two hours later a police officer pulls up beside me with lights flashing.  I do a double take, thinking, “What have I done wrong?”  (Why don’t we ever wonder, “What have we done right?”)  Mr. Scaryman gets out of his squad car and approaches my window.  I’m like, “What’s up?”  and he asks, “Is everything ok?”  Thinking about this carefully… “Uh, yep, at least it was…  Why do you ask?”  “Well, we got a call there was an unconscious victim in this vehicle.  We’re just checking to make sure everything is ok.”  I reassure him I’m quite conscious now and was before too (perhaps he has the wrong vehicle, maybe he should look up the road a bit for other unconsious victims?) I asked if he would like me to move?  “No, you can keep talking, you’re fine…”

Speaking of talking, I’m supposed to talk for 30 minutes at church this Wednesday night.  Yeah, this Wednesday, as in two days from now. What should I talk about?  I have nothing to say…  I’m dry as dust. Didn’t even know I was in the hot seat until last week when I randomly checked the website and saw my name plastered on the schedule. Talk about heart attack material, that’s probably how bank robbers feel when they see their want ad in public.

Speaking of having nothing to say, on Facebook I’ve noticed people have plenty to say.  There is a group I’m subscribed to where folks talk about how church ought to be done.  As you can imagine, that’s a windy topic.  A couple days ago a question was raised on the subject of musical instruments that generated a firestorm of over 100 comments.  I even weighed in with pointed observations based on many years of wizened experience.  Not surprisingly, the conclusion at the end of the discussion was inconclusive. 

Speaking of the number 100, I had almost that many people over for supper this evening.  Ok, so there were only 9 of us, but it seemed like 100 in my one room apartment.  This is what the place looked like before the tornado swept through:

My Table

Seeing those matching plates (and mismatching cups) reminds me of having lunch at my grandparents today when I was shown a set of matching plates Grandpa still has he’d bought before marrying Grandma.  That plate set was over 60 years old!  I wonder if my plates (shown above) will last that long? Check back in 60 years to find out.

In conclusion, if you find a point to this post please let me know because I don’t.  I just felt like writing… about things that have happened, not necessarily how I felt about them.  The feeling stuff I’ll leave for others more in tune with their emotions.  I just report the facts (slightly embellished).

Home Is Where Your Toothbrush Is

That’s what my brother Luke always says, and I think it’s true.

When I got back to Wichita after five weeks of being gone I first went by my parents house because I had given them the key to my apartment.  But then I got to talking with them until late so I just spent the night over there.  Then the next day I came back to my apartment.

I was surprised how my apartment didn’t really feel like home when I walked in, it just seemed like another place to stay.  I’ve got to where I sleep pretty solid about most anywhere.

Now I’ll admit the city of Wichita does feel like home to me…  because it’s so familiar and I have memories all over.  But there is no longer any exact house or place I’m that sentimentally attached to.

Both the writer of Hebrews and Peter refer to our being foreigners and pilgrims on this earth, which I’ve always found interesting:

“All these people were still living by faith when they died… And they admitted that they were aliens and strangers on earth…   they were longing for a better country–a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.”  (Hebrews 11)

Jesus talked about storing up our treasures in heaven, not on earth.  Which reminds me of the song:

This world is not my home, I’m just a-passing through
my treasures are laid up somewhere beyond the blue
The angels beckon me from Heaven’s open door
and I can’t feel at home in this world anymore

I think for the Follower of Jesus there is to be a real sense where we never feel we belong as part of the “World.”  James puts it more bluntly, “You adulterous people, don’t you know that friendship with the world is hatred toward God? Anyone who chooses to be a friend of the world becomes an enemy of God.”  (James 4:4)

It reminds me of Pilgrim’s Progress when Christian and Faithful are detained in Vanity Fair as criminals.  Faithful ends up being executed as a martyr.  What was their crime?  Nothing but this: They had disdain for the business and wares of the city.  In short, they wouldn’t buy.

Anyways, enough preaching.  On a similar vein of “wandering,” I was wondering how many states I’ve visited.  I found this website that generated the following map for me:

NickVisitedStatesMap

Turns out I’ve been to 30 states.  How many have you visited?

Got Mud?

So this is what we looked like before leaving on our cave adventure:

before_cave_hike

 

And this is what we looked like after exiting El Cavo de Muddo:

After

 

And this was taken at a scenic overlook on our way back:

scenic_overlook_on_gasconade_river

I know this blog is supposed to be about following Jesus, but I don’t have any great spiritual application here… any ideas?

Joseph As A Figure of Christ

The message last night was on Joseph.  In particular, the message was on self-control and the life of Joseph was used as an example.

Some people would debate whether Joseph is a “type” of Christ so we will use the term “figure” instead because there are definitely shadows and allusions to Christ in Joseph’s life, I believe.

Joseph was rejected by his brothers, similar to Jesus.  He was repeatedly humbled, but in the end went from lowest in the kingdom (sent to prison after being falsely accused as a criminal) to the 2nd highest in the kingdom, second only to Pharaoh. 

Jesus too was repeatedly humbled and went from the lowest in the kingdom (crucified after being falsely accused as a criminal) to the 2nd highest in the kingdom, second only to God the Father.

Remember when Joseph was in prison and interpreted the dreams of the baker and cupbearer?  Joseph gave interpretations of their dreams: after 3 days the cupbearer would be reinstated to his royal position while the baker would be hung.  Joseph requested they “remember him” after these things came to pass. 

Now this isn’t prophecy by any means, but I believe there is a distinct “shadow” or “allusion” in the story of the cupbearer and baker to the future ordinance of communion given by Jesus.  At the last supper Jesus took the bread and cup and similar to how Jesus body was broken (and how he broke the bread), the baker was the one who was hung.  Even the hanging is interesting because Jesus too was hung on a tree.

Also similar is how during the meal of the Last Supper Jesus requested that in the future they do this in remembrance of Him.  Remember how Joseph asked the cupbearer to remember him when he was reinstated to the palace? There is an obvious correlation to the three days as well. Oh, here’s another thing: both Jesus and Joseph were given a gentile bride.

Joseph’s attitude of forgiveness and compassion towards his brothers who betrayed him was similar to Jesus attitude.  Hanging on the cross Jesus said, "Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing” (Luke 23:34)

At the end of the story of Joseph, Joseph reassures his brothers of his goodwill:

“’You intended to harm me, but God intended it for good to accomplish what is now being done, the saving of many lives. So then, don’t be afraid. I will provide for you and your children.’ And he reassured them and spoke kindly to them.” Genesis 50:20)

God used the crucible of Joseph’s life for the eventual “saving of many lives.”  This purpose in Joseph’s life is quite similar to the mission of Jesus’s life: 

"This is my blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many…(Mark 14:24)

“For even the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many. (Mark 10:43-45)

I take from all these observations that a common model for being used by God includes being humbled extremely low, falsely accused, and having to undergo much pain.  This is followed by a lifting up of to a position of power for the purpose and benefit of the saving of many lives.

What do you think?

Life Continues

I’m in the office checking my e-mail.  Thought I’d write a short blurb on here as well.

I’m still at camp… this week I’m working as a Lifeguard.  It’s cool because last week I got Red Cross certified for Lifeguard (as well as updated my Red Cross certifications in First Aid, CPR, and AED).

This morning us lifeguards did a thorough clean-up of the pool area.  I swam around with this underwater vacuum sweeper machine which was fun.  Since it doesn’t pick up the big leaves I had to dive down for those.

I’m noticing camp life is unlike the real world.  Or maybe I should say the real world is unlike camp life.  Living here is like living in a large family, or maybe like living on a commune?  Everyone chips in to help.  Each day we all wear many hats, though everyone gets to wear the janitorial hat. I’ve cleaned so many bathrooms in the last month I’ve lost count. 

I’ve been given responsibility and freedom here and I’m noticing how I’m beginning to feel a sense of ownership with this place.

What I appreciate most about camp life is all the people around.  I go to sleep with a bunch of guys around;  I wake up with a bunch of guys around.  I eat lunch with staff; I work with staff.  And us staff do do lots of diverse work together too.  For instance, with some of the same people I’ve worked counselling kids together, worked on cleaning cabins together, worked in the kitchen together, prayed together, worked as lifeguards together, had a food eating contest together, listened through dozens of sermons together, ate together, and been tired and stressed out together.  I’m beginning to feel camaraderie with the staff, even though most I still don’t know very well.

I think it would be fun to live like this in real life instead of everyone being so isolated.  It is very encouraging here.  Even the way we start out our day is encouraging: This morning for instance I attended a small group Bible Study at 6:45am and then all staff prayer at 7:30. Breakfast was at 8 and I didn’t have to do any work to prepare it! It was also delicious: breakfast burritos and cinnamon rolls.

Well, I’ve gotta get off the computer now, there’s work I’m supposed to be doing. Right now I need to go put a tire back on my Jeep… it was flat from a nail being in it and our maintenance person just got back from town where he had it fixed.

21 Highlights and Lowlights of Camp Counseling

It’s midnight and I can’t sleep. 

This is the beginning of my third week at camp.  Tonight I’m in a new room sharing with 10 other guy staffers. 

Right now the lights are out but I don’t think many are sleeping yet.  Several of us are sick.

The white noise is incredible.  I think we have at least a dozen fans going plus an A/C window unit.  It sounds like jet engines revving up.  But that’s fine, it should help cover the snoring and coughing.

The last two weeks I’ve been working as a camp counselor.  The first week I had 9 boys then last week I had 11.  Good times… 

Here are 21 highlights and lowlights so far:

  1. Well, let’s start with an event from the first day: It was cool seeing my cabin come together as a unit so quickly.  As soon as everyone arrived we went down to the dock and I had them play a memory activity called, “The The Name Game” which helps everyone learn each others name.  Then we hiked back to our cabin where one of the boys pulled out a stack of matching Youth for Christ t-shirts he’d brought from home.  They all said in bold letters, “Game Changers.”  In no time flat all my boys were wearing matching shirts and were over-the-roof excited.  As we marched up to dinner they were all chanting, “We’re the Game Changers!”  As an aside, the matching shirts improved morale but didn’t help me in learning their names, especially since two of my boys were twins!  
  2. Comforting a very homesick camper his first three days at camp.  The first night he cried himself to sleep.  The second day he cried on and off throughout the day, plus cried himself to sleep.  The third day he also cried throughout the day but that third night I had a talk with him (that is, another talk with him). Sitting on the bench outside our cabin I probed, “Did your parents want you to come to camp?”  The tearful answer was, “Yes.”  “Do you know that sometimes parents want their kids to do hard things because they think it would be good for them?” No response, so I continue, “Just like God sometimes wants us to do hard things because he knows it will be good for us?”  Another pause, then, between sniffles he responded, “I’ve never heard of that concept before.”  I nearly laughed at his use of the word concept but instead said, “Yeah, it’s true,” and told him about the story of David and Goliath – how God had something hard for David to do but it turned out for good in the end.  I suggested that maybe his parents wanted him to stay here at camp because they thought it would be good for him.  Plus, I added, obeying your parents now is a good way to practice obeying God when you’re older.  After this little talk I didn’t have a problem with him being homesick the rest of the week.  Not sure if it was the talk or if he just finally got over it.  Regardless, I was relieved.
  3. Catching some massive flying insects with my hands and escorting them outside the cabin.  On one occasion this quick action saved my cabin from absolute pandemonium. 
  4. Taking my campers on a night hike to the top of a hill (the Rock Gardens) where we could see a ka-jillion stars.  My plan was to have the boys read Bible verses that talked about the stars and God’s handiwork in the heavens.  However, it was so hot, and they were so hyper, and so freaked out about being in the woods at night that my plan went by the wayside.  But a few verses were read, and we found the Big Dipper and the North Star, and there was at least one object lesson I was able to draw from the experience: “Boys, right now you’re frightened because of the dark and you have to rely on me for your safety, but I want you to know the dark doesn’t frighten me anymore because I’m older, but there are other things that do.”  “Like what?” was their instant reply; followed by one kid quipping, “Like finding a wife, right?”  Ten year olds can be perceptive.  I answered, “That may be one fear, but also whether I’m using my life for things that have eternal meaning and if I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing right now… but in the same way you have to trust in me regarding the dark, I have to trust in God for my life and future.”  I said a prayer over them before we left the top of the hill and they were finally quiet at least for that.  I remember getting all choked up in that prayer as I thought of what their futures might hold…  I remember by the time we arrived back to the cabin I was totally bushed: one of my boys had skinned his knee, another was limping, and I was carrying a third piggy back.  Not to mention there was plenty of complaining I had put up with en route.  However, wouldn’t you know it but the next day I was asked, “Nick!!  Can we go on the night hike again today?! that was the most totally awesome thing ever!”  Go figure. The answer was no.
  5. Having a camper wake me up at 3:30am the last day crying because his ear hurt.  This same camper cried easily so it was hard to tell how serious his issue really was.  I decided to stall and so comforted him by his bed until he fell asleep again.  This went on until 7:30 when I took him to the nurse.  She gave him some ibuprofen and luckily his parents arrived shortly thereafter.  When I told them about the ear problem they were like, “No problem, we have special ear drops for that.”  I was so glad his ear problems waited until the last day to act up.  But on the other hand, playing convalescent nurse for a very tearful boy through the early hours of that morning was not fun. Now I know what Mom’s have to put up with.
  6. Giving out cabin awards at the end of week one.  The class clown award was memorable.  I went over all the exploits this kid had done throughout the week.  Everything from stuffing his face into a chocolate pudding bowl to affixing our toilet bowl plunger to the bathroom wall.  As I recounted each silly thing this little guy had done he got more and more excited and began laughing so hard and was consecutively hopping up and down on the cabin floor he nearly quit breathing and I thought he might pass out.  He was definitely enjoying the attention.  His award was three bean bags to start practice juggling.  I felt bad encouraging his behavior with a reward, but believe me he did get in trouble during the week and in fact he was again about five minutes after he got the bean bags.
  7. Record Missouri heat… no air conditioning.
  8. Having kids skip their swimming time to ask me spiritual questions like: “How can you know when you hear God?” and “How did people live so long before the Flood?” and “Were there Dinosaurs with Adam and Eve?”  Another 11 year old kid asked more probing questions: “How do you know the Bible is true?” and, “What could we know about God if we didn’t have the Bible?” and, “Do you ever think you were put here on earth for just one reason?”
  9. Exploring a muddy cave; squirming down the narrow passage under a hanging bat. 
  10. Helping kids fish by putting hooks, bait, and bobbers on their lines.  I thought it was funny when one kid got impatient with fishing and asked me to hold his pole.  I did… and promptly caught a fish!
  11. Recording a cabin video skit re-enacting Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead.  “Lazarus” was one of my boys.  We first covered him in mud, then wrapped him in toilet paper, then placed him back into the cave entrance.  When he waddled out into the daylight he really did look dead-like. Lazarus_Coming_Forth_Skit 
  12. Chasing a fellow counselor (Alice) attempting to throw a jug of ice cold water on her (which I did).  She tripped though (or landed weird, whatever) and pulled a muscle in her leg.  It’s been a lowlight watching her hobble around camp the last four days.
  13. Having such a bad headache one night it kept me awake the entire night.  No joke, it was torture.  Luckily it was the last night of camp.
  14. The wildlife: Seeing a black widow spider in the lunch line, chasing an armadillo at night, freeing a raccoon from an empty trash barrel, seeing a red salamander in the cave, and catching crawdads from the creek.
  15. Having one of my boys fall off another boys back who was giving him a piggy-back ride.  Who would have thought a two foot fall on a gravel road could be so disastrous?  He deeply cut his arm and the nurse thought he might need stitches. In the end he was sent to the hospital an hour and a half away.  The crazy part was comforting him in the nurses office.  I spent about 30 minutes trying to do just that and he was so distraught you would have thought his arm had been amputated instead of slightly cut.  Turns out they didn’t even give him stitches at the hospital.  Oh, did I mention he threw up too? But he was a nice kid and I felt bad he got hurt.
  16. Speaking of throwing up, I had another camper who threw up in the night, then the next morning wasn’t feeling too well… and threw up again in the breakfast line in the cafeteria upstairs.  Following this he spent the rest of the morning resting in the nurses office, but, amazingly, at noontime he appeared for lunch and said he was fine.  Lunch that day was hamburgers and french fries which I didn’t think would be great for him to eat and told him so.  But he insisted he loved hamburgers and apparently he loved salt too because I also saw him douse his fries in that.  When he didn’t throw up after that greasy chow I proclaimed him healed.
  17. Telling my boys stories each night about something from my life with a lesson: how I got saved, how I doubted my salvation when I was younger and what helped that, how I had health problems that led me to a point of more fully trusting in God with my future, and how my brother and I once got stuck in a cave and prayed for help (and got it!).
  18. During the night devotion this past Wednesday I shared something I appreciated regarding the character of each of my 11 boys.  By this period in the week I had already become attached to them (even though they were also driving me nuts) and just specially felt led by God during the evening chapel to speak words of individual encouragement into their lives that night.  This was an emotional time for me… because it was so contrary to what I would have normally been able to do: I had an awful headache, was running a fever, and the boys were being incredibly testy.  But it was moving to me how God stepped into my heart and helped turn what easily could have been the worst night (if I had lost my temper at them) into what ended up being the best night of the week.  I put off our devotions until they were all in bed and the lights were out (except for my flashlight) and then we re-capped the day and the message and as I then began describing things I saw positive in each one of them and how they could use that to serve the Lord in their future, believe me they were all ears. 
  19. Seeing kids covered in shaving cream from head to foot.  I couldn’t tell one from the other.  Talking to them was like talking to snowmen.
  20. Playing “sea-monster” in the pool.  It’s a simple game: a bunch of boys jump on you and try to stay on your back while you pry them off and dunk them one by one… and of course get dunked yourself in the process.  It’s a very exhausting game that the boys never get tired of. 
  21. Seeing the transformation in one of my hardest boys from the beginning of the week until the end.  I remember bringing him up in our first staff meeting of the week with some reference to him being a “trouble maker.”  Turns out he came from a very difficult background and yes, he did get in a lot of trouble during the week.  In fact, he crossed a line where I thought he might have to go home early which was really tough on me in making that call and bringing his behavior up to the director.  But (some) mercy was extended and he was allowed to stay with restrictions.  The neat thing was how repentant this boy became the last couple days.  I even saw him break down and cry he felt so bad and, believe me, this was one tough little dude.  The neat thing is how I saw him learn important lessons through the week I think he internalized. Surprisingly, he also became attached to me which I thought odd as I’d been so tough on him.  On the next to last day I was asking the boys what they wanted to do during their free time and he piped up, “I just want to go wherever you go Nick.”  That made me feel good. Then on the last morning when it was close to time for him to leave he came up to me and gave me a big hug.  I was really touched.  I mentioned we should stay in touch and he really picked up on that and wanted me to write down my contact info for him.  I did and gave it to him on a scrap of paper.  Then I moved on to other work, but when I saw him later getting into a van for his ride home, he was still clutching that piece of paper.

So there you have it: 21 highlights and lowlights.

I learned counseling can be tough.  I also learned how rewarding it can be when you see you played a small role in making a positive impact on the life of a camper. 

It’s also pretty neat as a counselor to realize you have the privilege to be a part of memories they will cherish later as adults.

This week is “Family Camp” so counselors aren’t needed.  However, I’ll still be staying on here as staff.  Looks like I’m on maintenance.

My Life Summarized By a 5-Year Old

My friend Naomi gave me this thoughtful letter. I added her explanations on the side:

5_yr_old_profundity

The question is, “What will the scribble become?”

Perhaps there are clues in the picture that would help answer that question?

I see two stick figures amongst the scribble, does that portend something of note?

It appears they are both praying in a cemetary with a cross over their heads and a gate in the background. What does it all mean?

And is one of the stick figures female? Hard to tell.

‘Twas 111 Degrees Yesterday. Let’s Remember Cold.

Hunting_Andale_Ks_Snow Kansas Bird Hunting


ice_trees_cropped Icy Trees Along the Talimena Scenic Drive


my_tent Cold Weather Camping (in the backyard)

frozen_nalgene_bottle Another Very Cold Campout


dr_livingston_i_presumejoe_snow The Abominable Snowman Revealed (on the right)


In the drinkCold Weather Swimming. Do I Look Cold?


nick_hunting I Was Colder Here.

And More Cold Pictures from Flickr

South Pole Sunrise Mt. Rainer National Park, Washington State


Hochfügen, Igloo Session A Cool Guy in the Snow


I've been keeping my eyes wide open I Think She’s Dreaming of a White Christmas…

Ramsbottom Living Nativity 201209A Live Nativity!

Are they Singing, “Joy To the World,” or, “Let it Snow, Let it Snow, Let it Snow”?

Igloo Dusk A Nice Cool Spot

Comparison Chart of the Hevenly Signs Described in the Bible regarding the Sun, Moon and Stars

I’ve been trying to figure out where the prophecies in Matthew 24 fit into the flow of end times prophecy in general.  I had a hunch the bit about the “signs in the heavens” might yield a clue.

Therefore, I put together this little chart.  Perhaps someone besi>des myself will find it useful too:


Comparison of Heavenly Signs in the Bible

Download the XLS

Download the compilation of verses in PDF format

Do Matthew 24 and 1 Thessalonians 4 Refer to the Same Second Coming?

Here is an interesting question, “Is the return of Christ described in Matthew 24 and 1 Thessalonians 4 the same?”

Passage #1: Paul Describes Return of Jesus in I Thessalonians 4

According to the Lord’s own word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left till the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep.

For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first.

After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever.”  (1 Thessalonians 4:16-17)

Passage #2: Jesus Describes the Return of Jesus in Matthew 24

"At that time the sign of the Son of Man will appear in the sky… They will see the Son of Man coming on the clouds of the sky, with power and great glory. 

And he will send his angels with a loud trumpet call, and they will gather his elect from the four winds, from one end of the heavens to the other.” (Matthew 24:30-31)

Here are similarities I see between the two passages:

  1. Both say Jesus comes down from heaven
  2. Both say Jesus appears in the sky
  3. Both refer to Jesus coming with angel(s)
  4. Both refer to a trumpet call
  5. Both refer to a gathering of Believers
    1. Paul says Christians both dead and living will be “caught up”
    2. Jesus more generally says “the elect” are gathered
  6. Both refer to meeting in the atmosphere
    1. Paul says “caught up in the air
    2. Jesus says “gathered his elect from the four winds
  7. Neither passage teach Jesus coming down all the way to earth, only coming in the sky to gather believers
  8. At the beginning of the Thessalonian passage Paul states what he’s about to write next is based on Jesus’ words. This gives futher credence to the two passages referring to the same event.

Where Do Spirits Go After Death?

Spirit Rising

In a previous post we established people have both a body and spirit.  Recapping:

For you are dust,
And to dust you shall return."
(Gen 3:19)

"May the Lord, the God of the spirits of all mankind, appoint a man over this community…” (Numbers 27:16)

“As the body without the spirit is dead, so faith without deeds is dead.” (James 2:26)

“The spirit is willing, but the body is weak." (Mark 26:41)

“When he had received the drink, Jesus said, ‘It is finished.’ With that, he bowed his head and gave up his spirit.” (John 19:30)

“An unmarried woman or virgin is concerned about the Lord’s affairs: Her aim is to be devoted to the Lord in both body and spirit. (1 Corinthians 7:34)

“There is one body and one Spirit… (Eph 4:4)

We know where the body goes after it dies: into the earth to turn back to dust.  But what happens to the spirit? 

“He [Jesus] took her by the hand and said, ‘My child, get up!’  Her spirit returned, and at once she stood up.” (Luke 8:54-55)

This girl’s spirit returned at Jesus’ command for her to raise to life from the dead.  But where did her spirit come back from?  Where do our spirits go after we die?  That’s the question of this post…

Here is what Solomon had to say in response to this question:

“The dust returns to the ground it came from, and the spirit returns to God who gave it.” (Eccl 12:7)

So Solomon says the spirit returns to God. 

This begs the question, “Where is God?” 

We know his Spirit is everywhere, but what else do we know?

"Our Father in heaven,
   hallowed be your name…”
(Matthew 6:9)

“And do not call anyone on earth ‘father,’ for you have one Father, and he is in heaven.” (Matthew 23:9)

If the Father is in heaven, and our Spirit returns to God, do all spirits go to heaven?  Apparently not:

“But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear him who, after the killing of the body, has power to throw you into hell. Yes, I tell you, fear him.” (Luke 12:5)

Ok, I’ll cut to the initial chase: according to the Bible, spirits go to either heaven or hell when the body dies. 

But there is more to this story… let’s keep digging.

Let me start by asking, “Iis heaven up or down?”  Some verses imply upwards:

"But I say to all of you: In the future you will see the Son of Man sitting at the right hand of the Mighty One and coming on the clouds of heaven." (Matthew 26:64)

He looked up to heaven and with a deep sigh said to him, ‘Ephphatha!’ (Mark 7:34)

“But Stephen, full of the Holy Spirit, looked up to heaven and saw the glory of God, and Jesus standing at the right hand of God.” (Acts 7:55)

“As Jesus was coming up out of the water, he saw heaven being torn open and the Spirit descending on him like a dove.” (Mark 1:10)

“After he said this, he was taken up before their very eyes, and a cloud hid him from their sight…

‘Men of Galilee,’ they said, ‘why do you stand here looking into the sky? This same Jesus, who has been taken from you into heaven, will come back in the same way you have seen him go into heaven.’” (Acts 1:10-11)

Some verses indicate hell is downwards:

“It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell.(Matthew 5:22)

“But he does not know that the dead are there, that her guests are in the depths of Sheol.  (Prov 9:18 NASB)

Sheol is a Hebrew word used in the Old Testament for where spirits go. 

Strong defines Sheol as: hades or the world of the dead (as if a subterranean retreat), including its accessories and inmates: – grave, hell, pit.

Shortly before Moses died he sang a song wherein he quotes the Lord making a judgment against Israel.  The judgment begins thus:

“For a fire is kindled in My anger,
And burns to the lowest part of Sheol
(Number 32:22 NASB)

This is an interesting verse and implies that in Sheol (the place where all spirits go) fire is burning down at the bottom. 

We know that hell is a place of fire:

“It is better for you to enter life maimed than with two hands to go into hell, where the fire never goes out. (Mark 9:43)

From these verses (and others) I’m going to make this postulate: in relation to each other, heaven is higher than hell.

This totally fits with the story of the Rich Man and Lazarus too:

"The rich man also died and was buried.  In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away…” (Luke 16:22-23)

The picture you get is this large area where spirits go when they die. This area is called Sheol in the Hebrew and Hades in the Greek.

In the lower area spirits reside in flames and torment while in the upper area spirits reside in clouds and peace. 

So it would appear heaven literally sits on top of hell, with the two areas visible to each other and even communicable with each other (though the latter phenomena may be unusual). 

In the New Testament there are three words used for the location of the afterlife where souls go:

  1. geenna (hell) used (figuratively) as a name for the place (or state) of everlasting punishment (used 12 times in the NT)
  2. ouranos (air, heaven, sky) the sky; by extension heaven (as the abode of God); by implication happiness, power, eternity; (used 284 times in the NT)
  3. hades (grave, hell) properly unseen, that is, “Hades” or the place (state) of departed souls (used 11 times in the NT)

I want to focus on the word “Hades,” the Greek word that refers to the place I mentioned above: to wit, a large area where departed spirits are kept. 

Quickly recapping what we know so far: within this open place called Hades there is an up and a down.  Towards the bottom is fire and is called “hell” (or geena) whereas towards the top is a place called "heaven” (auranos).  “Hades” then is an all-inclusive word that includes both heaven and hell. 

All spirits go to Hades.  According to the Bible, when I die my Spirit will go to Hades.  Either to the top part or the bottom part.

It is important to note that spirits in Hades will not be able to travel between heaven and hell (that is, up and down).  This is what Abraham said in the story of Lazarus and the Rich Man:

“But Abraham replied… ‘between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’” (Luke 16:26)

Let’s go ahead and look at that entire story:

“There was a rich man who was dressed in purple and fine linen and lived in luxury every day.

At his gate was laid a beggar named Lazarus, covered with sores and longing to eat what fell from the rich man’s table. Even the dogs came and licked his sores.

The time came when the beggar died and the angels carried him to Abraham’s side. The rich man also died and was buried.

In hell, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away, with Lazarus by his side…

Let me cut in here and say I think it’s interesting that right after Jesus says the rich man died and was buried he says he’s in hell in torment.  For one thing this is a strong argument for people still having consciousness after death. 

Furthermore, I feel that by the way Jesus is telling this story he is alluding to the fact that hell is downward (by pointing out the rich man was buried and next directly shows up in hell) and heaven is upward (by not mentioning the beggars burial but rather emphasizing he was directly carried by angels – whom we generally think of as flying beings – to heaven).

Continuing…

So he called to him, ‘Father Abraham, have pity on me and send Lazarus to dip the tip of his finger in water and cool my tongue, because I am in agony in this fire.’

But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony. And besides all this, between us and you a great chasm has been fixed, so that those who want to go from here to you cannot, nor can anyone cross over from there to us.’

He answered, ‘Then I beg you, father, send Lazarus to my father’s house, for I have five brothers. Let him warn them, so that they will not also come to this place of torment.’

Abraham replied, ‘They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them.’

‘No, father Abraham,’ he said, ‘but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’

He said to him, ‘If they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’"

(Luke 16:19-31)

Notice that nothing was said about spirits not being able to return to earth. 

In fact, the rich man asks that Lazarus be sent back to earth to warn his brothers. 

Abraham doesn’t respond with, “Naw, that’s impossible,” but rather implies through his answer it was possible, but wouldn’t result in any good.

I think if Lazarus had been allowed to come back to earth he would have been given a body as well, because in every instance of someone coming back to earth from the grave in the Bible (and I can think of at least 7 examples) they also came back with a body, not as a spirit alone (except for one example I just thought of: Samuel’s spirit called back by the witch of Endor).

If a soul were allowed to come back to earth from the grave, I suggest it would be a soul from heaven, not from hell.  I base this on several observations:

  1. in all the rare instances in the Bible of  humans coming back to earth from the grave, they were Holy people
  2. those in hell are being punished as captives while those in heaven presumably have greater freedom

I think of an example from my time in the classroom setting: sometimes a note had to be run to the office.  I remember asking, “Who would like to take this note to the office?” and everyone’s hand would shoot up in excitement. 

Now I had to pick someone.  Would I pick the kid sitting in the back corner for misbehaving or one of the well behaved kids?  The answer is obvious.

Similarly, perhaps the Rich Man (who presumably knew more about the rules surrounding such requests than myself) understood he wouldn’t be allowed out of hell so didn’t even bother asking.  Instead, he asked that someone from heaven be sent back to earth to warn his brothers. 

The fact he asked Lazarus be sent might imply he still looked down on him as a servant, a nobody.

Did you catch that there were six brothers? Lazarus and five others? Numerology throughout the Bible is consistent. Six is the number of man, and these brothers appeared to be selfish men, not faithful God-followers.

Notice the word used for hell in this story:

“In hell [Hades], where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham far away…” (Luke 16:23)

Why did Jesus use the Greek word Hades here in this story instead of the common word for hell, geena? 

Perhaps Jesus did so because he was telling a story of both heaven and hell.  Therefore, we could rewrite it as, “In Hades, where he was in torment, he looked up and saw Abraham who also was in Hades, far away”

Jesus’ main point in this story was that in the afterlife (in the location called Hades) some spirits will be suffering while others comforted, all based on their decisions in this life.

Here is another example of Hades used in the NT:

“And I tell you that you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of Hades will not overcome it.” (Matthew 16:18)

We often think of both heaven and hell as having gates, and perhaps they do, but this verse states at least Hades has gates. 

Gates for heaven or hell are never mentioned in the Bible (except for the New Heaven which has 12 gates of pearl).

The Bible says the gates to Hades have keys.  Guess who carries around the keys?

“I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for      ever and ever! And I hold the keys of death and Hades.” (Revelation 1:18)

The last time the word Hades is used in the Bible tells us it will be destroyed:

Then death and Hades were thrown into the lake of fire. The lake of fire is the second death.  If anyone’s name was not found written in the book of life, he was thrown into the lake of fire.” (Revelation 20:14-15)

In conclusion, spirits go to Hades after death.  There they wind up either below in fire or above in heaven, depending on the result of their judgment.

Prophecies of Jesus Regarding Himself in Mark

“Then some began to spit at him; they blindfolded him, struck him with their fists, and said, ‘Prophesy!’” (Mark 14:65)

Ironically, Jesus had prophesied a number of things.  Here are some I’ve noticed as I’ve been studying through Mark:

Jesus Prophecies His Death and Resurrection 3x

“He then began to teach them [his disciples] that the Son of Man must suffer many things and be rejected by the elders, chief priests and teachers of the law, and that he must be killed and after three days rise again.” (Mark 8:31-32)

“He said to them [his disciples], ‘The Son of Man is going to be betrayed into the hands of men.  They will kill him, and after three days he will rise.’  But they did not understand what he meant and were afraid to ask him about it.” (Mark 9:31-32)

“Again he took the Twelve aside and told them what was going to happen to him, ‘We are going up to Jerusalem and the Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and teachers of the law.  They will condemn him to death and will hand him over to the Gentiles, who will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him.  Three days later he will rise.’”  (Mark 10:32-33)

Death and Resurrection Prophecies Fulfilled

Did all these prophecies happen?

The third prophecy is most detailed, Jesus predicted several very specific events. Let’s see if they all happened: 

  1. “The Son of Man will be betrayed to the chief priests and teachers of the law”
    1. Judas, one of the Twelve, appeared.  With him was a crowd armed with swords and clubs, sent from the chief priests, the teachers of the law, and the elders.” (Mark 14:43)
  2. “They will condemn him to death”
    1. Trial before Sanhedrin: “’You have heard the blasphemy. What do you think?’ They all condemned him as worthy of death. (Mark 14:64)
    2. Trial before Pilate: “’What shall I do, then, with the one you call the King of the Jews?’ Pilate asked them. ‘Crucify him!’ they shouted… [Pilate] had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified. (Mark 15:12-15)
  3. “[They] will hand him over to the Gentiles”
    1. “Very early in the morning, the chief priests, with the elders, the teachers of the law and the whole Sanhedrin, reached a decision.  They bound Jesus, led him away and handed him over to Pilate.” (Mark 15:1)
  4. “[The Gentiles] will mock him and spit on him, flog him and kill him.”
    1. “[Pilate] had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified. The soldiers led Jesus away into the palace… again and again they struck him on the head with a staff and spit on him. Falling on their knees, they paid homage to him. And when they had mocked him, they took off the purple robe and put his own clothes on him.  Then they led him out to crucify him.” (Mark 15:16-20)
  5. “Three days later he will rise.”
    1. ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ he said. ‘You are looking for Jesus the Nazarene, who was crucified. He has risen! He is not here. See the place where they laid him.  But go, tell his disciples and Peter, ‘He is going ahead of you into Galilee.  There you will see him, just as he told you.’ (Mark 16:2-7)

Yes, everything happened just as Jesus said. 

Tell His Disciples AND Peter

Why do you think the angel said, “But go, tell his disciples and Peter to go ahead to Galilee”?  Why did the angel put that, “and Peter” on the end? 

Well, if the women had told the disciples that Jesus had told them to tell “the disciples” something, what do you think Peter would have thought? 

Peter was so ashamed of his behavior he probably would have looked down, kicked the dirt and thought to himself, “Yeah, well, I’m sure Jesus wasn’t including ME when he said ‘the disciples,’ he just meant all the OTHER guys.  You can just lump me in there with Judas.”

But the message was, “Tell the disciples AND Peter to go ahead to Galilee.”  When Peter heard that, he would have known all was well, that Jesus wanted HIM. 

This is just a very small touch, but it is indicative of how God works: he pays attention to detail. 

One interesting thing is that this detail is only mentioned in Mark.  It is thought that Mark wrote down the life of Jesus as he had heard it from Peter directly.  Mark and Peter worked together. 

Jesus Makes Further Prophecies on the Mount of Olives

Notice under point #5 above how the angel said Jesus was going ahead of them into Galilee where they would see him?  And the angel added, “Just as he told you.” 

When did Jesus tell them that?  Well, back on the Mount of Olives before he went to the Garden.  At that time Jesus made three prophecies:

#1 "You will all fall away," Jesus told them, "for it is written:

   ‘I will strike the shepherd,
       and the sheep will be scattered.’

#2 But after I have risen, I will go ahead of you into Galilee."

Peter declared, "Even if all fall away, I will not."

#3 “I tell you the truth," Jesus answered, "today–yes, tonight–before the rooster crows twice you yourself will disown me three times." (Mark 14:27-30)

Were these three prophecies fulfilled?  The answer is yes:

#1: “Then everyone deserted him and fled.” (Mark 14:50)

#2: “When Jesus rose early on the first day of the week he appeared first to Mary Magdalene… afterward Jesus appeared in a different from to two of them while they were walking in the country… later Jesus appeared to the Eleven as they were eating; he rebuked them for their lack of faith and their stubborn refusal to believe those who had seen him after he had risen.”  (Mark 16:9-14)

Where were the 11 when Jesus appeared to them while they were eating?  Mark doesn’t tell us, but Matthew adds another note to this story:

“Then the eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain where Jesus had told them to go.  When they saw him, they worshipped him; but some doubted.”  (Matthew 28:16-17)

#3: “But he denied it… Again he denied it…  He began to call down curses on himself, and he swore to them, "I don’t know this man you’re talking about."

Immediately the rooster crowed the second time. Then Peter remembered the word Jesus had spoken to him: "Before the rooster crows twice you will disown me three times."

And he broke down and wept.” (Mark 14:68-72)

Jesus’ Word is Trustworthy

There is a lot more prophecy regarding Jesus’ death and resurrection.  Especially in the Old Testament.  Maybe I’ll do a post on that some other time. 

The main thing I took away from this study was that when Jesus says something, it happens. 

Jesus was trustworthy about predicting his own future.  And Jesus predicted other future events which have yet to happen. In light of his trustworthiness, I believe they will happen too.

The Power of a Soul

I was going to continue this series with The Power of a Smile, The Power of Sin and perhaps the Power of My Brother Seth.  However, since those posts seem slow in coming I’ll summarize by saying they’re all three quite powerful, in their own way:

Smiles can make old people look new; Sin can make new people look old; and Seth can speak 3 languages, run a thousand miles, and makes me laugh perhaps more than anyone else I know.

So far, in this series we have:

What do they all have in common?  They all have impact on and can affect a human being.  Cars transport our physical bodies, songs affect our emotions, sentences affect our thoughts, and stories affect our lives as we contemplate the examples of others.  And “space” is symbolic of all things limiting to us.

What is a soul?  Webster says, “The immaterial essence, animating principle, or actuating cause of an individual life.”  Basically, our soul is US, our LIFE.  The word in the New Testament for soul (psuchē) is even often translated life. 

Here is the first time soul is used in the Bible:

Genesis 2:7 says, “And the LORD God formed man of the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life; and man became a living soul.”

The concept and definition of the words soul and spirit overlap, but as I understand it the word soul (as used in the Bible) seems to be broader, often referring to the “life” portion of a human being (some say our mind, will, and emotions) whereas spirit seems to be used more specifically in reference to the non-material counterpart to our body.  The word spirit is pneuma in the Greek which literally means breath or breeze.

Whether a human has an immaterial, immortal soul/spirit or is rather completely material has been cause for much debate.  The view of Philosophical Materialism (that matter is all there is, and any perceived consciousness is merely a result of matter acting on matter) dates before Christ to big-name Greeks like Epicurus and Democritus.  In more recent times Karl Marx is well-known for having broadened and refined the theory.  Even Jehovah’s Witnesses don’t believe humans have a soul.

For reference, here are some verses that use the words soul and spirit.

So here is the culminating point to this post and series:

The power of a soul is that it can impact God. 

How? 

Through entering into relationship with God. 

Perhaps one definition for relationship is mutual communication.  If I’m not communicating with someone, I’m not in a relationship with them.  I know this.

I recently wrote a post emphasizing the importance of prayer.  Through prayer we can actually impact God.  Not by force, (because he’s a ka-jillion times stronger than us) but by influence, as his friend.

I’ll leave off with these thoughts from James:

“The prayer of a righteous man is powerful and effective.  Elijah was a man just like us. He prayed earnestly that it would not rain, and it did not rain on the land for three and a half years.  Again he prayed, and the heavens gave rain, and the earth produced its crops.”  (James 5:16-18)

Time Rich. It’s Weird.

My Camp Spot

I went beach camping most this past week.  It wasn’t until the 3rd afternoon I finally got bored.  Not miserable bored… just relaxed bored.  The picture above shows one of the spots I camped at.  I set my tent up underneath the shade of those Kansas Palm Trees (aka Cottonwoods).

Now that I have so much time I don’t feel I have any excuse for getting stressed.  This for me is the hardest thing to get used to: slowing down. I usually run around half-frazzled because I’ve scheduled too much to do in a day. Now if I run around half-frazzled it’s kinda ridiculous because I’ve got nothing going. It’s made me stop and think about why I’m ever anxoius in the first place.

For instance, I was at Aldi’s the other day… and let me first preface this story by saying I don’t usually shop at Aldi’s because it’s not convenient.  However, with all my free time I figure there’s no reason to not buy stuff cheaper just because it’s not as fast.

So anyways, at Aldi’s I’m in the checkout line and remember they only accept cash (or debit cards) which I have neither.  Therefore I have to leave the store and make a run over to the bank to get cash.  Then when I come back to Aldi’s now the checkout lines (of which there are only two) are sooo long I have to literally wait forever.  Normally this would have irritated me and this time was no exception.  However, I did remind myself there was nothing I had to do the entire day so there was zero rush, I could take my time.

Of course Jesus never was in a rush, something I’ve always found interesting.  Presumably he was never anxious either.  He said we are not to worry.  In fact, in the Sermon on the Mount Jesus said not to worry three times. 

I tend to either worry too much or too little. Lately I’ve worried so little about my future I’m in danger of becoming unproductive. Hence this blog post: I felt a need to create something.

The thought above about Jesus saying not to worry 3 times reminded me about how I’ve been noticing the number 3 in the Bible of late.  I find numbers in the Bible interesting and think they sometimes have significance, though not always of course. 

The number 3 can mean many things in the Bible, but in general it can be noted as a number of completeness or finality.  I’ve noticed that number used quite a bit in the end section of Mark I’m currently studying.  Whether it means anything or not… you can form your own opinion. Here are the instances I’ve noticed.

    Sailing With Joe

    The clip below and picture above were both taken Monday, June 27th when Joe came out to help me enjoy the evening while I was camping.

Changing Lanes

lane

Do you hate change?  Most people do.

No doubt about it, change is uncomfortable.  I’ve noticed most people change things occasionally, some people change things up ALL the time…… then still others rarely make any changes.

Case in point: I drove up to Newton this evening and performed a test.  I set my cruise control at 60mph.  Now realize that on most the route the speed limit was 70mph, so I really caused a stir and disrupted traffic by my grandma-ish driving.

You may wonder why I would do such a crazy thing as drive 10mph under the speed limit when everyone knows you’re supposed to drive 5mph over?

Simple reason:  I’m trying to see how many miles per gallon I can get on this current tank of gasoline.  On the last two tanks I got 22 MPG but on this one I’m hoping to get at least 30.  All I’m doing different is modifying my driving habits.

Continuing with my story…  People were whizzing by me left and right on the highway and giving me hard stares of derision.  I began noticing something interesting though: some cars would pass quickly while others would hesitate for awhile before passing while still others would simply flat out NOT pass. 

One car in particular slowed way down to my speed.  Then it slowed down further so it was far behind me.  Then it sped up until it was right on my bumper, invading my personal space in a way that increased my pulse as I cringed awaiting impact.  The two of us then moseyed down the road quite awhile like that.  Nobody around, just us two.  Me going slower than a seven day itch, and the car behind me RIGHT on my bumper.  But they were the type of person who hates change so much they couldn’t bring themselves to change lanes and just pass me. 

I talked to an older guy recently who told me he and his wife had been going to the same church for the last 30 years.  Then he told me they have been thinking of leaving for the last 10, and in fact realizes now he should have done so 10 years ago.  But he didn’t then because they were so comfortable and didn’t want to change. 

This man told me he felt it was finally time to change.  The complaints he had about his current church I found interesting: He said the curriculum the Seniors were going through in their Sunday School class was pathetically elementary.  At their age he felt they should be going through stuff far more advanced.  What he also felt was quite sad was how his peers didn’t talk about God or their Christian walk before or after services at church, but rather gabbed about sports and weather and other mundane topics.  This man wanted more.

As you look at your own life, think about things that may be holding you back. What cars are you driving behind you should just pass?  What things have you put off changing for a long time?  If you knew you were going to die tomorrow, what would you regret not having done today?

Maybe today is a day we simply need to get our hearts right with the Lord.  Paul said,

I tell you, “Now is the time of God’s favor, now is the day of salvation.” (2 Corinthians 6:2)

Now is the day to change lanes methinks.

Sailing in Jesus’ Footsteps

In all the exciting hubbub recently, I forgot I had a blog. 

“What exciting is going on?” you may wonder. Several things, but for one, this past Friday was my last day working at my old job!

Now before you ask what my next plans are, just let me say the future looks bright and I’m currently trying to narrow down my options to just 1 of 57 wonderful possibilities.

But first things first, it has been quite windy here so Nathan and I took the opportunity to go out sailing:

posing_in_front_of_sunfish_sailboat

I would like to take this moment to point out that boating is an important part of following in the footsteps of Jesus. 

Here are my proof texts:

Mark 3:9 Because of the crowd he told his disciples to have a small boat ready for him, to keep the people from crowding him.

Mark 4:1 The crowd that gathered around him was so large that he got into a boat and sat in it out on the lake, while all the people were along the shore at the water’s edge.

Mark 4:36 Leaving the crowd behind, they took him along, just as he was, in the boat. There were also other boats with him.

Mark 4:37 A furious squall came up, and the waves broke over the boat, so that it was nearly swamped.

Mark 5:18 As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him.

Mark 5:21 When Jesus had again crossed over by boat to the other side of the lake…

Mark 6:32 So they went away by themselves in a boat to a solitary place.

Mar 8:10 …He got into the boat with his disciples and went to the region of Dalmanutha.

Mark 8:13 Then he left them, got back into the boat and crossed to the other side.  The disciples had forgotten to bring bread, except for one loaf they had with them in the boat.

Matthew 14:32 And when they climbed into the boat, the wind died down.  Then those who were in the boat worshiped him, saying, "Truly you are the Son of God." 

Taking a corner in my thought processes, have you ever been interested in numerology in the Bible? 

What do you know about the number 12?  Did you know that 12 is a critical number in the Bible signifying “governmental perfection”?  For instance, there were…

  • …12 fathers from Seth to Noah
  • …12 fathers from Shem to Jacob
  • …12 sons of Israel (which made up the 12 tribes of Israel)
  • …and 12 disciples of Jesus

Additionally, Jesus was 12 years old when he first spoke out publicly and  the Kingdom of God has 12 gates and is guarded by 12 angels and there are 144,000 people sealed (12,000 from each of the 12 tribes of Israel).

And finally, as a shining testament to the importance of the number 12, the word “sailing” (or a derivative) is used TWELVE times in the New Testament! 

Ok, I’m convinced.  I need to be fitting in more time sailing methinks.

Seriously, I would love to go sailing on the Sea of Galilee and visit the locations mentioned in the New Testament. I see there are tours available.

Taking it a step further, I think it would also be incredibly awesome to backpack around Israel in the footsteps of Jesus. It would help me better understand the New Testament and also comprehend and teach on Jesus’ life with more depth. That is def one of the 57 options I alluded to earlier in this post.

Having a Vision as Big as Vuthers

On my way down to Haiti I talked with a Haitian man in the Miami airport for several hours.

His name was Vuther and he told me straight-up he doesn’t like America. His reason? The immorality we are exporting to his country. ouch. I find this a common complaint among Internationals. American culture is seen as “loose”. Argue how you will, but I have been told this by multiple foreigners. They say the way many women here in America dress is revealing. For instance, an Indian friend related to me recently how he was shocked by this very thing when he came to America, but now is desensitized. And my Kenyan friends also told me immodesty is much more prevalent here than in Kenya.

Anyways, back to Vuther. Even with his gripes about America, he nevertheless did appreciate our help.

After the earthquake, he sent his 12-year old son to the US. His son was here in the States seven months and studied in our public schools. Vuther explained we were so nice we even provided a Creole/English speaking para-teacher to accompany his son around school to interpret. He couldn’t complain about that. And he also appreciated all the folks who have come to Haiti from America to help with earthquake relief.

Though he added that he often feels the “mission teams” that came for short-term projects are completely ineffective. For instance, he pointed out how a team recently came to make new tarp shelters for those in a tent city because their old tents were rotting in the sun after a year. He thought this was stupid: his people needed permanent dwellings, houses, not new tents!

Vuther is among those fortunate in Haiti to have a decent job. When I was talking with him in Miaimi, he was traveling back home after having attended job training in South America.

He also told me he was a Christian believer, but when I questioned him on his beliefs he was uncertain. He was convinced there was a God, which is a start, but was trusting for his salvation based on merit rather than faith.

But as this man told me his vision, I was impressed by his “merit.” Vuther believed education is the key to helping kids have a better future and is acting on that belief. He and his wife have started a school in their home for families in their neighborhood too poor to send their children to school. So far, he and his wife currently have about fifteen kids enrolled (note that the literacy rate in Haiti is about 50%). His wife quit her job to teach full-time, which has put a strain on their finances as they now have more expenses, but less income.

Vuther was very excited about his school, and with the new model he is experimenting with. He told me how important he feels parental involvement is and how he regularly meets with the parents to give progress reports. He added that most parents can’t afford to pay him much in cash so he accepts pay in volunteering and barter.

Vuther was very adamant he had no desire to accept money from outsiders. He wanted this school to be completely Haitian initiated and supported. In particular, he didn’t want outsiders telling him how to run things or having any say in what he did. He was very independent minded. But he was also quick to admit he was super nervous about how his school was going to work out. He had put all three of his own children in this school to give legitimacy to those in his neighborhood. The first standardized testing was looming in June and he was nervous, hoping all passed.

Did I mention his house was destroyed in the earthquake less than a year and a half ago? He told me he had worked for years to have that house built. I asked him if he had insurance. The answer was no. Apparently they don’t do home insurance there.

An ordinary man with a dream: He said his dream was to help 100 kids get a good education.

Just 100, that was enough.

I asked, “What about 1,000 kids?”

He laughed and waved me off, “No, no, just 100. That’s all.”

But he also pointed out he is trying to develop a model, and if successful wants to share his model with others. He hopes that together Hatians can help change Haiti from the inside out. I was impressed.

I personally know many families who are into homeschooling their kids. And effectively, Vuther and his wife are homeschooling their three kids. But they are also homeschooling 12 other kids… and have a vision to homeschool 85 more!

How often do I run across someone with a vision like that? A vision to significantly impact the lives of 100 people? Meeting Vuther and having this random conversation was inspirational to me.

Vuther really appreciated I talked with him so long and commented on how friendly we are here in America to just approach a stranger and start a conversation. I liked him too. And was glad to promote a little American good-will.

He gave me his phone number and said to call him if they gave me any trouble in customs, as he would be there shortly after me – and had connections.

Speaking of connections, I almost missed my flight because I was so engrossed in talking (listening) to Vuther. Turns out, I was at the wrong gate: D32 instead of D33, and after a couple hours steeped in gab I should have noticed no one was in my waiting lounge area – but didn’t. What finally reminded me was a complimentary phone call from American Airlines:

“Mr. Middleton, where are you?”
“um, here In the Miami International Airport, why?”
“Where in the airport?”
“Sitting here at Gate D32?”
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE?! You’re supposed to be at gate D33, and this is the last call for boarding to Port-au Prince!”

I quickly bid adieu and ran to catch my flight.

Have I ever mentioned I’m absentminded?

The Power of Stick Shift

I got a surprise when I left work the other day: My car wouldn’t start.   The battery was dead because I’d left my headlights on at lunch.

Who should I call?  How long would it take for Dad to show up?  How long would it take for Mallikar or Pat to show up?  How long would it take for –

Dang, I don’t have time for this, I have a Bible Study to attend. 

What were my other options?  Besides prayer, of course, I didn’t think of that until now.

Then I remembered something I’d read recently from John Eldredge,

“…Adam is captured best in motion, doing something.  His essence is strength in action.  That is what he speaks to the world.  He bears the image of God, who is a warrior.  On behalf of God, Adam says, ‘God will come through.  God is on the move.’  That is why a passive man is so disturbing.  His passivity defies his very essence.  It violates the way he bears God’s image.  A passive man says, ‘God will not come through.  He is not acting on your behalf.’”

Yes, that entire quote flitted through my brain, and I then said to myself with a fierce resolve, “Far be it from me to be construed a passive man.”

I'm not the only one who has tried this.Pushing my car out of its’ stall, I lined it up pointing toward an open stretch of parking lot.  I’ve done this before and you have to get it going faster than you think. 

The power of stick shift is that you can (theoretically) start this type of car mechanically by getting it rolling really fast in neutral and then popping the clutch.

After making sure the runway was all clear for takeoff, I leaned on the trunk and give it an oomph.  Did I mention I was wearing dress clothes?  It started moving slowly, then faster. 

Was anyone watching?  I checked that I was still heading straight, then really poured it on – soon literally sprinting behind the Honda!  Uh-oh, looks like we’re gonna hit that Ford in about twenty yards.

Then it was time to get back in the vehicle, but I found it hard to catch up with a car already flying along as fast as I could run.

With an extra burst of speed I did a Jason Bourne and dove into the driver’s seat and quick popped the clutch: glut-gluuuut-gluuuuuuuuuut—-  silence. stopped.  At least I didn’t hit the Ford, near miss.

So that didn’t work.  But I didn’t necessarily expect it to.  My main plan was to cause enough commotion that someone would have mercy on me and offer a jump.

Sure enough, moments later a very large shiny SUV came lumbering around the corner.  The drivers side tinted window cracked open and a pair of eyes peeked over the top. 

A high pitched ladies voice emitted, "Do you need a jump?" 

I tell the eyes, "No, I just push cars around parking lots for excerci – yes, I could use a jump, thanks for stopping by!" 

The window rolled down a bit further.  A friendly enough face appeared.

The friendly face asked, "I don’t have jumper cables, do you?" 

Yes, yes, I live by the Boy Scout motto, “Be Prepared.” Just pull your car around, thanks…  but see here, my jumper cables won’t reach that far, you’ll have to maneuver behemoth SUV a tad closer – Augh! not that close!

In no time flat I was on my way.  I’m very thankful for such a charitable co-worker, she was quite helpful.  A real live Samaritan. 

The Power of Space, Part 2

From the mail bag……  here is an excerpt from a letter I received in response to my post yesterday:

I’m not convinced that God tells us to go find misery and poverty in the world and then fix it. That would ascribe a God-like omnipotence and limitless resources to us. The Samaritan wasn’t traveling along the backroads trying to find someone he could minister to, he was more likely going about his day when he saw a chance to do good. Even most missionaries require financial support from churches back home since ministering full-time in and of itself is not economically sustainable.

This is a great point.  In fact, it gets to the heart of a very puzzling issue to me. 

The Teacher of the Law asked, "Who is my neighbor?"  to which Jesus answered with the story of the Good Samaritan.  As I understand it, the point of that story was that our neighbors are those, "within our physical sphere of influence."  Those we are in contact with in, "real life."  Those we come across in, “our daily duties.”

Back in the olde days, this concept was easily understood because there was no other option.  Now technology has changed all that.  In the olde days, it was obvious the influence of one person could only reach so far.  Our eyes could only see so far, our voices could only carry so far, our arms could only reach so far.  It’s interesting how we were made in the image of God in His likeness, but only given the tiniest fraction of His power.  Even with the aid of technology, we will always be limited by time and only being able to think about one thing at once (unless you’re female and can think about 4-5 things at once).

Now though, through Skype, my voice and presence can travel thousands of miles.  I’ve video-chatted live with my brother in Afghanistan as if he were in the same room with me.  And my “arms” are much longer today too.  With a click of a button I can lift a child out of poverty.  Or support an indigenous missionary.  After watching real-time footage of the earthquake disaster in Japan, I can provide real-time support by donating to the Red Cross.

As an aside, when we think of people having influence today, we think primarily of mass media.  Through radio and TV one person can reach millions.  I heard there were 2 billion people watching the Middleton-Prince William wedding.  But have you ever thought about how Jesus impacted the entire world but was never on TV or involved in any type of mass media?  In fact, it is likely he never talked to or communicated with anyone outside the sphere of his immediate physical presence.  We have no indication he ever even wrote a single letter.  Jesus restricted himself to face-to-face contact with folks.  That alone could probably teach us a lot.

But here’s where it gets tricky:  If my neighbor is that person who is directly within my sphere of influence, what happens when my sphere of influence is suddenly increased – like it has been through technology over the last 20 years – to include the entire globe? 

Now an immediate problem arises.  If my responsibility extends to everyone within my sphere of influence, and if my influence has now exponentially increased to include billions of people, it is clear I’m spread too thin.  If I tried helping everyone, in about five minutes I’d be wiped out financially.  Then I’d be destitute myself, and was that really the point?

On the flip side, if I throw my hands in the air and say, "I can’t help everyone, so I’m only going to help those people I come into contact with in my day-to-day life," that fails to take into account that technology has also conveniently stratified my particular socio-economic class into a layer where desperate physical needs are all but non-existent.

It may be instructive to note that Jesus took his "physical presence" to places with high need.  But it’s also instructive that he apparently lived a fairly normal life in Nazareth until he was around 30 years old.  So go figure.

When I was in Haiti, I saw a number of people in public who were sick or injured.  I remember passing a kid sitting outside who had a large swollen jaw and a bandage wrapped around his head.  Another kid had a gross looking swollen eye that probably needed attention.  I saw a cripple.  I saw a teenager so emaciated I was sure he was about to die (he was in his home, but should have been in ICU).  I saw several sick kids lying on the ground partially clothed or even naked.  None of them were in a hospital or anything.  At one point I remember thinking, "This must have been how it was in Jesus’ day where the lame and blind and sick were everywhere, out in the open, and would gather around Jesus to be healed." 

In our suburbs, there is pain, injury, and sickness too.  But it is all sanitized and hidden away behind a sterile environment.  For the worst cases, paramedics in sharp uniforms transport the patient to hospitals where they are attended to by trained nurses, competent doctors, and given access to only the best diagnostic equipment, drugs, and latest surgery techniques.  When death comes here in the States, it is usually in a drugged state.  In Haiti, life is much more raw.  If something bad happens, you might just die.  Right there where it happened even.

I can drive myself crazy trying to analyze all the ins and outs of what exactly I should be doing to make the most impact.  At the end of the day, as a Follower of Jesus I have to come back to realizing my salvation does not hinge on what I do (or who I help), but rather on putting my faith in Him for my salvation.  I trust Jesus, as Lord of my life, to lead me on the path He has for me.  Whether that path is here in the emotionally and spiritually hurting suburbs, or a location with needs more raw and earthy, I know there is plenty of work to do in either place.  The primary thing is to follow Christ’s leading, and produce fruit where I’m planted.

I’ll end this post with another excerpt from the letter I quoted at the beginning,

The thing is, there are so many counter-arguments to any position that it is easy to become paralyzed by it. In fact, you could argue that the point of helping poor people is more to be obedient to God than to actually alleviate poverty, so perhaps it’s best to ignore counter-arguments to any one course of action and simply do something as intelligently as you can.

Meantime, Back at the Ranch

I notice there has been a dearth of content on this blog as of late.  What’s happened? 

The answer is I’ve had plenty of ideas to blog about, but been too busy to write them.  Too pre-occupied.

Most people, when they get pre-occupied, raise suspicion by acting pre-occupied.  Which, come to think of it, I have been doing.

For instance, this last week I’ve locked my keys in my car three times.  The first time I used the hidden key to unlock the doors, and I even remembered to put the hidden key back.  The second time I also used the hidden key, but forgot to put the hidden key back. 

So the third time I locked myself out, I was really stuck.  And as fortune would have it, I was at the Laundromat about 11 o’clock at night when this happened.  I didn’t want to bother anyone to come get me that late…  and since the Laundromat is only about a ten minute walk from my apartment and I hadn’t exercised that day yet, I hiked.

Since I currently own two vehicles, I drove my spare around the next day, leaving my locked one up at the Laundromat.  The bad thing is, my spare vehicle was locked up too so for awhile I was scratching my head wondering how I was going to break into it.  Fortunately, I remembered I had a hidden key for that one also – wiled away in a very secretively greasy location.

SO I called a lock smith and they quoted me $55 to unlock my door.  Were they nuts?  I wasn’t going to pay that kinda money for such an easy job.  Don’t they do it on TV all the time? How hard can it be?

Returning to El Laundromat with impudence and a Slim Jim, I attempted to break into my own vehicle in the parking lot.  Instead, I cut my finger, messed up the weather stripping, and got some strange looks. 

Breaking into a car is harder than it looks.  After further research online regarding the hidden arts of auto break-in, I returned and… amazingly unlocked the door in no time.  Neat, I’m getting better.  And I straightened out the weather stripping too, so all is well.  If I hadn’t been able to get it, my friend Danny assured me he knew more tricks vis-a-vis coat hangers.

My initial point was that most people raise suspicion by acting pre-occupied, but in my case I also raise suspicion by 1) breaking into my own car and 2) even when I do nothing.  To wit, I’ve been approached by several people lately asking me what was "going on" as I’ve been silent on my blog the last couple weeks.

So, changing the subject, I have 3 posts started and ideas for several more floating around, so stay tuned.  Will try to post again by next Wednesday.

The Power of a Song

With a title like this, I have no option but to start the post off with a song:

Ever had a song put you into a trance before?  Me either, but this happened to a friend of mine.  Or so he says:

He was a sophomore in High School at the time, driving with his girlfriend.  He was behind the wheel and stopped at a red light.  He was listening to the radio and the 80’s tune Gyspy came on (by Fleetwood Mac).  My friend says he’d never heard Gypsy before, but apparently the melodious music made an impact, placing him into a trance.

Next thing he remembers, his girlfriend was shaking his arm and calling out at him to snap out of it.  He told me at first he could only hear her voice faintly, as if from down a long tunnel, then it became more and more distinct until he was conscious again.  He realized there were car horns blaring from behind and the light was red again because he had sat mesmerized through an entire green light, staring vacantly out the window.

Wierd.  By his own admission, nothing like this had happened before or since. 

Even if music doesn’t usually hypnotize us, it still has power.  If story is, “Data with a soul,” perhaps music is, "A soul with data."

Every time I hear movie soundtracks I want to become a movie director.  In my minds eye I get visions of what dramatic scenes the sweeping music would work great with. Like this one:

[audio:http://simplefollower.com/audio/majestic.mp3]

My friend Keith is always giving me CD’s, he’s a music aficionado.  He gave me one recently labeled, "Music with Immediate Impact,"  consisting of climactic theme songs from various movies.  It did have impact, making me feel like I could jump over tall buildings in a single bound.  Unfortunately, our emotions can be deceiving – often not having much correspondence with reality.  I can barely jump high enough to reach a basketball goal.

But moving on…. several Sundays ago I had the privilege of hearing two concerts in one day.  The first was from Mike, a college friend I caught up with whom I hadn’t seen in six years.  Apparently, these days Mike is into guitars.  He demonstrated how his amplifiers can shake his house.  Impressive.  I covered my ears.  Then I asked him to give me a concert, and the ensuing fancy picking made me quite envious.  From Pink Floyd to Jimmi Hendrix to Led Zeppelin, the only song I recognized was an old Johnny Cash tune, Folsom River Blues (oddly enough).  His music made my emotions swing from joyful to melancholy.

Then that evening I went to hear the Calvary Baptist a Cappella choir.  I know several folks in that choir, including (incidentally) my younger brother Joe.  Quite the contrast from what I’d heard earlier.  From over-charged electric guitars to pure voices without even microphones.  This service was worshipful, majestic, uplifting.  The lyrics were sharp and distinct, the dynamics lofty and intentional.  The all-male renditions nearly spooky in their tight harmonies.  My thoughts were lifted to God and my emotions were calmed and refreshed.  All was well.  I even started feeling sleepy.

So, here’s my point in all this: The power of music is that it can affect the emotions of a soul. 

Ever notice how music can only affect the living, not the dead?  Cranking up the stereo in a car won’t get the car excited, just the driver.

Speaking of cars, today a co-worker showed me pictures of a friends’ antique vehicle that was in perfect condition, like brand new.  I figured it must have been restored, but no, apparently it had just been kept in a garage for 40 years! 

The thought immediately struck me, "I wonder what I’d look like if they locked me in a garage for 40 years?"  Like new?  Probably not.  But poor car, all its’ friends are probably dead now…

Maybe I should quit writing, this is getting zany.

The Power of a Story (plus, 10 things we fear)

Everyone likes stories. I think. 

"Researcher story-teller" Brene Brown defined story as, "data with a soul."

A more stodgy definition is, "An account or recital of an event or a series of events, either true or fictitious." (source)

For an example of a brief, well-told story, you might enjoy this short piece about a conversation between two ladies Donald Miller overheard at a restaurant.  I enjoyed it.

In fact, this story really touched me – and challenged me.  It raised questions: Why am I not always honest in my relationships?  Why do I have this tendency to always want to, "smooth things over" instead of speaking plain truth? 

Sure, I understand there is a balance between truth and love, but when I catch myself talking ill about someone behind their back, it’s probably time I be talking directly with the offending party.

Does my reluctance in being straight-forward in delicate situations come from a fear of hurting others?  Or a fear that I’ll get an angry response?  Or a fear they’ll even reject me completely if I speak the truth?  Probably all the above. 

What’s amazing is that this short story Miller told raised all these questions within me, and affected me at a core level.  That is the power of story.

As an aside, regarding fear, I heard this quote recently, "Sin is nearly always born out of fear, and codified in pride." 

Here are some things we can fear:

  1. We fear that God won’t work all things together for good, so manipulate circumstances to help God out.
  2. We fear that God won’t lead (or will lead where we don’t want), so take the wheel instead.
  3. We fear that God won’t meet our deepest needs, so look for quick substitutes to meet our own needs. 
  4. We fear that God does not exist, so live as if this world is all there is.
  5. We fear that God does exist, and that we’re in big trouble.
  6. We fear death, so hedge our lives with safety nets. 
  7. We fear life, so drug ourselves with entertainment’s amnesia.
  8. We fear losing our stuff, so insure everything. 
  9. We fear intimacy, so build walls around our hearts.
  10. We fear fear, but don’t know how to stop.

I shouldn’t say, "we."  I should say, "I."   I fear, I fear, I fear.  *sigh*

“For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.” (2 Tim 1:7, KJV)

But this bunny trail on fear has got me far afield of my original topic: the power of story!  (Focus Nick, Focus)

Jesus taught mainly through stories.  Why?  Because a story sticks. 

Which do you think makes more impact:

  1. being told, "Love Your Neighbor as Yourself," or
  2. being told the poignant story of The Good Samaritan? 

I think the latter.  The theme in that story is absolutely relevant today, the ramifications of “who is my neighbor” something I even now struggle with and often think about.

So, what exactly is the Power of a Story?  Perhaps this quote sheds some light:

A message prepared in a mind, reaches a mind.
A message prepared in a heart, reaches a heart.
But a message prepared in a life, reaches a life.

The power of story is that it is a message from a life that can reach a life.

The Power of Serenity

tulip_text

Last week I visited Botanica Gardens.  It’s my favorite local destination here in Wichita and I’ve been many times.  In fact, think I’m on my third annual membership.  The best time of year to visit is Spring.  Right now, in fact, as the tulips are currently in bloom and breathtaking. 

If you go, I recommend getting a membership.  It’s not that much, and if you don’t, the whole time you’ll be thinking, "I paid $7 for this?!"   But if you do, each time you go you’ll just smile and say, "Each visit makes this cheaper."  And it does, mathematically.

benchI like to stroll around, then find a cozy place to sit and read a book.  Unfortunately, what their benches gain in rustic ambience they lose in ergonomic comfort. 

Speaking of simple pursuits, observing people at Botanica can also be instructive. 

One can quickly spot those who are out to "conquer" the gardens.  Which is not hard to achieve, it’s not a big place.  A determined soul can march out every winding walkway within 10 minutes.  But the Gardens aren’t meant to be conquered, they’re meant to be savored.  I notice these type of people usually talk loud.

Then there are those who take a zillion pictures of everything with their cameras.  I believe they are attempting to capture the beauty inside their SD cards – packaging the "present" so they can relive it later.  Yet in the stressful process of attempting to nab that elusively perfect shot, they (perhaps) achieve the exact opposite of what the Gardens provide: serenity.

I’ve been to Botanica several times when wedding bells were tolling.  Once I even recognized who was getting married!  Which brings me to the most prevalent class of Botanica visitors: lovebirds strolling the Gardens hand in hand…. they don’t talk loud, and I try ignoring them.

Then there are the volunteers.  And the older folks.  Often the same.  Though the latter can also be found reclining in white plastic chairs, contentedly visiting amongst each other, swapping tales. 

I have a favorite spot at Botanicabench_by_pond.  The other night I spent some time there, leaning up against a tree in the shade, absorbing the bright pastels of blooming flora, hearing the song of a happily chirping bird above, and smelling the pungent aromas of budding plants mixed with cedar mulch. 

Soaking in the scene, I idly wondered, "What makes something beautiful, intrinsically?" 

My gaze fell on a bed of blossoming tulips, the top of their pink leaves tinged with flecks of gold, and was struck at their delicacy.  Was there something to that….? is beauty somehow tied to delicateness?

tulipThen my eyes shifted to the silent brook, it’s glass-like surface symmetrically reflecting the stately oaks above.  What about that?  Is beauty also tied to symmetry?  The flowers were symmetrical too. 

Abruptly, a small insect dropped into the stream with impudence, causing ripples to fan out, distorting the image.  Then a whisper of a breeze arrived, causing a miniature cats-paw to etch itself across the water; also gently mussing my hair. 

All semblance of trees in the stream were now gone.  Ahh, the reflection was delicate too.  Even the small waterbug or a gentle wind could break its spell.  Beauty must somehow be tied to delicacy - then I pause, what about the Rocky Mountains?  Aren’t they beautiful?  I ponder this and decide the Rockies aren’t beautiful, they’re majestic.  That, or my theory is bunk.  So much for soliloquy.

But seeing the tulips made me think beauty must also be tied to uniqueness, because no tulip was exactly alike.  Similar to sunsets.  I saw a brilliant one in Key West several weeks ago from Mallory Square, a waterfront area on the tip of the keys.  In their own way, sunset’s are quite delicate, voicing their brilliance for but a few moments before continuing their never-ending travel Westward. 

Now I realize that just because something is delicate, symmetrical, and unique doesn’t make it beautiful. My set of teeth retainers have those qualities, but aren’t much to write home about. Nevertheless, something that is beautiful will probably have at least those three qualities.

Anyways, I think the power of Serenity is that it can refresh a soul. 

And if you made it through all this, I hope it refreshed you too, sort of as if you were there in the Gardens as well.  That was my goal.

The Power of a Sentence

So We Only Use 2% Of Our Brain’s Capacity?

My brain never really stops.  I used to think everyone was like this, and perhaps they are, but I’m not totally sure anymore. Please help me put this issue to rest by answering the poll to the left.

Even at night my brain clacks away.  Sometimes in the mornings I’m wiped due to the subconscious having propelled me through a slew of exhausting dreams. 

Most of the ideas flitting through my cranial cage aren’t profound enough to be worth thoughting, or writing down.  Few are even original.  They’re mainly re-conglomerations of various content I’ve been consuming.  Content that includes not only books, media, and articles, but also social interactions with people and observations from life. 

But here are a few recent ones… free food for thought. 

Just How Much Do You Remember?

structureI heard recently (forget where) a guy say that books didn’t impact him, but sentences did.  Guess he was right, because that sentence stuck with me, though nothing else he said did. Not even his name, so he could get the credit.

If it’s just sentences that impact us, why don’t we publish quotes instead of books? 

I think the reason is because we need the filler content for context.  Like in public speaking, the point of the introduction should be to prime the audience to get mentally phsyched and emotionally synched to the mood and style of the orator.  Then, when it’s time for the message, they’re ready to be hit over the head. 

Then again, sometimes all we need is the quote.  Here are a few unrelated sentences I’ve read recently that made me think:

  • "A man with leprosy came to him and begged him on his knees… filled with compassion, Jesus reached out his hand and touched the man…" Mark
  • "The people God can use are different than the people the church can use."  (Miller)
  • "The church in America is led by scholars…  The first disciples were not [scholars], they were fishermen, tax collectors and at least one was a Zealot. We don’t know the occupation of the others, but Jesus did not charge educators with the great commission, he chose laborers." (Miller)
  • "If You’re Stuck, Ask Questions" (Barnes)
  • "Christian evangelists will often talk about the ’God hole’ – the place in your heart that only God can fill.  The ‘God hole’ is actually a lot bigger than you may realize.  God’s Word says that He… wants to be your All in All” Snyder
  • "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness…" Peter
  • "My God will meet all your needs according to his glorious riches in Christ Jesus." Paul
  • “But these are written that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and that by believing you may have life…" John

I’m curious, are there any sentences you’ve heard recently that were meaningful and stuck?

Arby’s, We Are On To Your Tricks

With all the heavy talk on here recently about people going hungry (like this post about very hungry people I met in Haiti), perhaps it’s time to take a lighter look at food. In particular, Arby’s fast-food.

meltI don’t eat Arby’s much. Not that I don’t like it, I do. It’s just that I’ve found it’s hard to get out of there without spending an arm and a leg. I think their marketing department intentionally devises schemes to reel people in and sock ’em with exorbitant prices when they aren’t looking.

Trick 1 – Luring Me In the Door

For instance, their original 5 for 5 deal. Sounds like a great way to draw folks in, but who wants FIVE roast beef sandwiches? Especially when they come devoid of plastic cheese, the best part?

Arby’s strategists anticipated this problem and offered an alternate: 5 varied items for $5.95. Notice the sneakiness already? Though they still call it 5 for $5, it’s really 5 for $6!

When this promotion was new I remember going in, looking at my options, and realizing there was no way I could eat five things. Ok, maybe there was some way, but it wouldn’t have been healthy. So I ordered 4 things, all items off the same value menu. To my surprise, the cashier – with a straight face no less – says, "That will be $7.50 please."* How can it be more expensive to buy 4 things than 5? Yet this is the Arby’s way, I’ve found.

Now, let’s pause here. Some people would change their order at this point. But me, I’m too embarrassed to protest. I just fork over the dough in resignation, but make a mental note to never repeat the same mistake.

Trick 2 – You Charge What for Extra Plastic Cheese?

Months later, I find myself in Arby’s again… Now that I’ve learned my lesson regarding their sneaky 5 for six dollars deal and 4 for seven dollars deal, this time I decide to order a standard combo meal where everything is on the up and up.

Wow, look at this? For $3.99 I can get a paltry little roast beef sandwich. So I’m like, "Yes, I’ll take that smallest, measliest combo deal, but could you please – for the love of food – add some cheese to that anemic specimen?"

The guy furiously punches buttons on his register, then, "No problem, that’ll be $7.50."* What?! How could cheese cost that much extra? But somehow it does, or they have a “$7.50 sucker button” for judicious use on anyone looking as absent-minded as myself.  Once again I’m too embarrassed to contest.

Trick 3 – Rigging Everything That Looks Good

It was a long time before I ate at Arby’s again. But I finally did… I had forgotten. Not only had I forgotten, I fell into their ultimate trap: I ordered what looked good. "Yeah, so I’ll take that oven-roasted triple-stack southwest-style cheddar-jack roast-beef chipotle-sandwich covered in aunt-Jemima’s-bacon. And douse it in Arby’s sauce, please.”

Then I remembered with horror, “The price, dummy, the price, how could you forget?” The cashier blissfully punched some keys on his diabolical machine, then looked up with a wide smile, "Hey, that’s a great choice! And your grand total comes to $9*, would you like to add some fries and a drink for only a little extra?" My jaw is hanging there. Do these guys get paid on commission? Stammering, "No fries or drink, I’ll just take the sandwich, thanks." Again, too embarrassed to change my order.

Trick 4 – Coupons

So I recently received a sheet of Arby’s coupons in the mail. Looking at the pictures my mouth began watering, but, "Dare I take the chance?" On my lunch break the other day, I decide risking the gamble of getting in and out with wallet intact.

First thing I notice pulling in their parking lot is a massive poster stretching across the building featuring an amazing roast beef mushroom melt loaded down with extra cheese and I think, offhandedly, "That looks good, I should get that."

Not that I like mushrooms or anything, but the photo was doctored and photo shopped in such a way as to look enticing. Luckily, alarms and bells began resounding through my head, "That’s what they want you to do, fool! You must stick to your coupons! It’s the only way!"

I drive up to the ordering menu. There’s one guy ahead of me. No one else in sight and it’s noon on a weekday. Everybody else in town has learned their lesson…. but at the rate they charge, Arby’s doesn’t need to trap many into their spider-web like racket.

A raspy voice ensues, "garble – garble – would you like – garble – mushrooom – garble – triple cheddar – garble" I have a flashback of the poster out front and hastily interrupt, sticking my fingers in my ears, "NO! That’s NOT what I want! Look you, I have this coupon. C-O-U-P-O-N. It says I can get an entire meal for $3.99, and it’s called the Charred Arby’s Melt Deal."

Silence, then "garble garble? ….. garble? garble?!" I tense up, they’re asking some sorta question but I can’t make it out. I decide to play it safe, "No, I don’t think so, probably not. Nope."

Now the raspy voice sounds exasperated, "Are you sure? – garble – it’s free! – cinnamon – garble garble – and it’s FREE!" I should know better, but it sounded like it was free, and I’m not one to turn down free food. Especially food that has the word cinnamon in it somewhere. Knowing I should probably resist, I instead respond, "Well, sure… if it’s free, yeah, toss it in the bag."

I then hear, in a perfectly clear voice (why was it so garbled before?), "Great, that was an exceptional decision, please pull around to the next window with your card ready. And I hope it’s nowhere close to the limit." I assure her it has at least four bucks left on it.

With apprehension, I gently ease up to the pay window. Now understand, some of this story has been stretched a little, but what I’m about to say next is absolutely true. No joke, the lady opens the window, reaches for my card and says, "That will be twenty-two dollars." I about go through the roof.

As you know, I don’t generally contest my order, but this was getting out of hand. I say in a rush, "Look, I’ve got this coupon, and go ahead and take the $20 cinnamon thing off my order, and this isn’t right because I small sized everything and only got this teeny little value meal, and it’s charred even, and I have a coupon, and I -” she interrupts me and disappears back inside, muttering something about needing to talk with the manager.

After a while the window re-opens and she sticks her head out and apologizes, explaining, "This is my first day on the job."

“Right,” I think, “I bet you were just seeing if I’d actually pay. You guys probably have an entire file about me in there with ‘sucker’ written in big letters at the top.”

Concluding Remarks

In the end, it was quite an inexpensive meal for the crazy amount of food I received. In fact, with the extra free Outside-In Cinnamon Bites (as I later learned they were called) I even started feeling sick afterwards.

This blog is supposed to have a spiritual focus. So…… the moral to this story is that Arby’s is often a lot like Sin: they can both cost you more than you ever think they will…. But on a serious note, it probably isn’t nice to be too down on Arby’s. I do like it, that’s why I keep trying to go back. Especially the plastic cheese, that’s the real draw.

The End.


*Disclaimer: Some numbers rounded up for effect (but not the $22). Every anecdote based off a true story.

Being Overwhelmed With Circumstances

Normal is what we’re used to.  When things are going worse than normal, we complain.  At least, I complain.  But when faced with those less fortunate, it readjusts our thinking of what normal really is and makes us give pause before complaining.

I took the following two pictures on the same day, March 18th.  One in the morning, one in the afternoon.  Both define "normal," but for different people.  One is downtown Port-au Prince.  The other downtown Miami.

street_in_port-au_prince_haiti

downtown_miami_skyscrapers_tall_buildings

Some of the emotions I felt in Haiti are hard to describe.  Seeing a picture doesn’t capture the feeling.  Like the difference between getting shot at in real life and watching Band of Brothers while downing pop and chips.

When I tell people about Haiti, I give them highlights from my trip, because there isn’t time to recount everything.  But telling the highlights, the quick story, seems to cheapen the feelings somehow. 

Yesterday (Sunday), I spent several hours with a friend who shared with me in depth about a major experience he is currently going through.  This situation was a positive one for him, and he is excited about it, but it has also been an emotional roller coaster.  He told me he’s been overcome with feelings and wept freely in a way he never has before.  His wife, who’s known him for years, has never seen him affected like this.  In fact, we both got choked up as he told me about what all’s going on. 

My friends’ story was inspiring, touching, and I felt privileged to be one of the first people he told.  I won’t say more, because I don’t want to steal his thunder.  But my point is this, I know in the future a lot of people will ask him for his story, and I wonder if it’s going to be hard for him?  Hard to share something so personal over and over in a nonchalant, conversational way?  There are things that take time and a personal context to share.  And maybe some things we don’t even want to share, too personal to share.  Things we would prefer "treasuring in our hearts."

While some are rejoicing (like my friend), others are mourning. 

Yesterday, Emily Milroy wrote a post describing some deep, core-shaking experiences she’s just come through this past month in her visit to Asia.  She was brought face to face with desperate circumstances in an orphanage for mentally handicapped children, and is still reeling.  Honestly, what could be worse than children in abject circumstances, not loved, physically ill, and mentally ill besides?  It’s too much to take in:

I thought it would be Africa where I would hold a child moaning out because they were starving to death, but it was in C****…children living in a place where there is an 86% mortality rate, where [children] get 2 meals a day, and each meal 4 bowls of food to split among 14 children.

Where when you feed them you have to guard the food because the kids that can walk will come up and grab handfuls out of the bowl…where children eat other children’s throw up, poop off the ground, and sleep on a piece of wood with no mattress tangled up with two other children because there is not enough space…

Where their little arms and legs are so skinny and they are so incredibly malnourished you can barely make sense of what is in front of you. Where there are not real diapers but a stretchy string around their waist with a diaper material or just any plastic tucked into it as a diaper.

For the first time in my life struggling to pray for healing over a child… instead please Jesus just take them to be with you because the moaning coming from them because they are hurting is too much….

My teammates had a baby pass away they named Jude and struggled with his death but also knowing now this little one wont suffer starvation. The death of a baby who received no proper funeral service and no mother or father brother or sister to care…  the emotions of watching that happen are just impossible to type out.

…my world was completely changed… my heart completely broken.

I broke down crying sometimes looking at the food I was eating for dinner and the rights I felt that I had to eat whatever I wanted (in not liking the spicy food is what I am talking about) because I thought of those little children. Sure I may not have liked it but it was food and I should be more grateful. So the rest of the month I may not have liked the food in C**** but I never complained again and I was so grateful that God provided it.

The feeling of wanting to help so badly, seeing the forgotten children and people in this place, seeing pain like I have never seen before…not knowing what to think of it all and feeling like I wasn’t doing enough… learning that through it all God is still God. So much of my human thinking needed to be abandoned to not get overwhelmed and run away from things I didn’t understand, things that in a month I could not change. In many ways I had to abandon my past ways of thinking… (source)

Sometimes the breakers of life hit us, and we’re overwhelmed.  The friend I mentioned earlier was overwhelmed, in a good way.  Emily was overwhelmed, in a frightening way.  Both of them cried.  Life was too much to process.  Their emotions couldn’t cope with the circumstances. 

But I think it’s in these times we gain new perspectives, new appreciation for life, new awareness of God, and new resolve to fight for the future.

Lord of the Flies

flies_cover

There are 17 books in my reading stack. I just counted. Granted, some of them are library books. And some have been in the stack a long time. Lord of the Flies was one of the latter. Nevertheless, I finally finished it, as I do most in my stack. I like to complete things I start.

In Lord of the Flies, I think William Golding put together an entertaining and thought provoking story, it is a compelling piece of fiction. Having said that, it did take me nearly two years to finish, and I might have skimmed a little in the second half.

Set in the 1940’s, a group of young English boys six to twelve years old find themselves deserted on a tropical island after the plane they are flying crashes. There are no adult survivors. The book describes the boys’ formation of a miniature society, and the eventual breakdown and collapse of that society.

By Golding’s own admission, Lord of the Flies has a well defined plot line, calculated to provoke thought. Hence, it has been categorized as a fable, implying a moral to the story. Fable aside, I found the narrative interesting on its own accord (though containing disturbing elements).

On the last page of the book, the main protagonist weeps for “the end of innocence [and the] darkness of man’s heart…” I would suggest an alternate title to this book might be, The Loss of Innocence.

An obvious point from the book is the innate evil inside us humans. Golding suggests that, left to our own devices (sans the curbs of societal boundaries) we would tend downward, following out natural urges to the lowest denominator. To wit: savagery, even head hunting.

I found Simon the most interesting character, though he’s not the main character. Literary critic James R. Baker made this observation:

“Simon, call him prophet, seer or saint, is blessed and cursed by those intuitions which threaten the ritual of the tribe. In whatever culture the saint appears, he is doomed by his unique insights.”

Golding summarizes Simon’s role in this quote from an interview:

“So Simon is the little boy who goes off into the bushes to pray. He is the only one to take any notice of the little ‘uns-who actually hands them food, gets food from places where they can’t reach it and hands it down to them. He is the one who is tempted of the devil: he has this interview with the pig’s head on the stick with Beelzebub, or Satan, the devil, whatever you’d like to call it, and the devil says, “Clear off, you’re not wanted. Just go back to the others. We’ll forget the whole thing.”

Well, this is, of course, the perennial temptation to the saint, as I conceive it, to just go and be like ordinary men and let the whole thing slide. Instead of that, Simon goes up the hill and takes away from the island, removes, discovers what this dead hand of history is that’s over them, undoes the threads so that the wind can blow this dead thing away from the island, and then when he tries to take the good news back to ordinary human society, he’s crucified for it…”

The unique epiphany Simon had was this: the irrational superstitious fears of the boys would never be alleviated by hunting down and destroying a physical “thing,” because the object of their fear was within themselves.

Says William R. Mueller, in his analysis of the book:

“The ‘ancient, inescapable recognition’ is that the Lord of the Flies is a part of Simon, of all the boys on the island, of every man. And he is the reason ‘things are what they are.’ He is the demonic essence whose inordinate hunger, never assuaged, seeks to devour all men, to bend them to his will. He is, in Goldings novel, accurately identified only by Simon. And history has made clear, as the Lord of the Flies affirms, that the Simons are not wanted, that they do spoil what is quaintly called the ‘fun’ of the world, and that antagonists will ‘do’ them…

He [Simon] carries with him a deeper revelation; namely, that the Beast (the Lord of the Flies) is no overwhelming extrinsic force, but a potentially fatal inner itching, recognition of which is a first step toward its annihilation.

The ultimate purpose of the novel is not to leave its readers in a state of paralytic horror. The intention is certainly to impress upon them man’s, any man’s, miraculous ingenuity in perpetrating evil; but it is also to impress upon them the gift of a saving recognition which, to Golding, is apparently the only saving recognition. An orthodox phrase for this recognition is the ‘conviction of sin,’ an expression which grates on many contemporary ears, and yet one which the author seemingly does not hold in derision.”

Indeed, lecturing at John Hopkins University in the spring of 1962, Golding bluntly stated that Lord of the Flies was, in short, a study of sin. He expounds,

“The theme [of Lord of the Flies] is an attempt to trace the defects of society back to the defects of human nature. The moral is that the shape of a society must depend on the ethical nature of the individual and not on any political system, however apparently logical or respectable.”

For a book that is required reading in schools across our land, I was surprised at the orthodox overtones. For instance, the obvious message that man is basically evil, rather than basically good. Or that the first step towards redemption is recognizing that evil within us. I believe this realization is the first step towards reconciliation with God as well. Both Jesus and John the Baptist preached, “Repent!” Repentance implies we have something we need to repent over.

Though Lord of the Flies was entertaining, I really started digging it when I began reading critics discussions regarding its literary value. There were layers of meaning woven through the story I had missed in the straight reading.

I became fascinated with how Golding put so much thought into every element of the story. Nothing was written without effect. Even the way individual sentences were worded often was not accidental. The speech of the boys subtly changed over time and conversations frequently held double entendres and innuendo.

In a related vein, I’ve began studying the Gospel of Mark recently and similarly, what has become fascinating to me about Mark is its’ literary quality. There is a flow and a point to everything written, like in Golding’s classic.

When you look under the hood of Lord of the Flies, you begin realizing the author is no dummy. Similarly, when you look under the hood of Mark, you begin realizing that author is no dummy either. There are depths of meaning in Mark that are not obvious from the casual reading.

Ok, enough on this. I wonder how many people have voluntarily written a review on Lord of the Flies?  yikes, nerd alert.

Packing Notes

At Miami InternationalNo matter how hard I try to pack light, I always over pack.  I used my recent 10 day trip to Haiti and Florida as a packing test for a longer trip. 

Below are my “packing reflections.”  I know I’ll be pegged as a geek for having taken the time to write this, but my brothers (and perhaps my sister) will understand.  We’re gear nuts.

Big Items

  • Tent.  This was the first trip I’ve ever used a non free-standing tent.  In layman’s terms, that means you have to use stakes for it to work.  Generally, this hasn’t ben an issue anywhere I’ve ever camped before.  But I’ve never camped on top of  a roof!  I still could have used my tent by replacing the stakes with little sacks filled with rocks, but I would have taken a lot of floor space so opted for a cot indoors. 
  • Backpack.  35 Liters is considered small for a pack, merely weekend sized.  As I’m trying to learn how to travel light, I wanted to see if it would work for this longer trip.  It did.  Small enough I was even able to bring it on the airplane as carry-on and stow it in the overhead compartments.  Very cool.  Two negatives though: 1) It is mostly one large compartment which makes it difficult to get at stuff on the bottom. 2) It looks a little too nice – if I go again I’ll attempt to “age” it.  I hear you can do that with a can of black paint, duct tape, and a sharp knife.
  • Sleeping Bag.  Goose-down filled and rated at 20 degrees, I wondered if it would be too warn for tropical Haiti where temps were soaring to the 90s.  Each night I would start by just laying on top of my sleeping bag sweating.  But by early morning I would get cold and crawl inside.  Each day when I woke I was never too hot, so the sleeping bag worked fine. 
  • Pillow.  This took precious space in my pack, but was an appreciated amenity.  In the future I need to experiment with using a ditty sack stuffed with a jacket or clothes as a pillow.

Personal Items

  • Clothesline string.  I debated bringing it, but glad I did as we used it for a clothesline (imagine that) and also for securing tents on the roof.
  • Clothesline clips.  Wished I’d brought some.  Was able to wash clothes in a bucket one day, but didn’t have a good place to dry them.
  • Multi-tool.  Came in VERY handy.  People used it for all sorts of things throughout the week – it became our team toolbox.  The saw was used to cut dozens of bars of soap in half.  The scissors were used to open small packages.  The knife was used to cut rope, open burlap sacks, etc.
  • Netbook.  Great for writing.  I journaled muchos, something I couldn’t have done with pen and paper. 
  • GPS.  I hesitated bringing this, but glad I did.  For one, it was priceless navigating across Florida.  But it was also good in Haiti too, even though I didn’t use it there for navigating.  What I did was did turn it on one day and left it in my pack as we walked around.  Then back at home I was able to find our ministry locations on Google Earth.
  • Camera. Definitely need a smaller one.  And one that is inconspicuous would be nice too (like flat black).
  • Wallet. Probably didn’t need it, could have just brought cash and credit card held together with a paper clip.
  • Rag.  Forgot to bring one, really missed it.
  • Water Bottles.  I started with three.  A 1 Liter wide-bottle nalgene, a 0.5 Liter Nalgene, and a $5 tall metal one from Target.  I lost my small Nalgene in an airport/airplane.  Luckily, the two larger bottles were clipped to my packs so kept those.  However, I found that for this type of trip two bottles are overkill, one was plenty.  My tall bottle fits in my packs better, so think I’ll just leave the Nalgene home next time, heart-rending though that be.
  • Bible.  Ok, don’t think less of me, but in my zeal to save weight I just brought a New Testament instead of the entire Bible.  It wasn’t long before I was kicking myself for that decision, though it actually did work out fine.  I spoke briefly in two different churches on my trip, using just my New Testament.  Did reference I had e-sword on my netbook.

Clothes

  • 3 Pairs of Clothes.  This worked fine for 10 days.
  • 2 Pairs of shoes.  Yep, perfect, not too many, not too few.  I wore them both equally.  Leather loafers were great for travelling, looking nicer at church, and even walking the streets when I was wearing jeans.  And the trail running shoes worked for everything else (even swimming in the Atlantic).
  • Cold weather clothes.  Who would think I’d need a long sleeve shirt, a fleece jacket, or cotton gloves while visiting Florida and the Caribbean?  Well, I wore my fleece jacket through all the travelling which was much needed as airports and airplanes are kept cold.  Then, one day at the end of my trip in the Keys I got up for an early morning walk and it was very chilly.  I wore pretty much all my cold stuff, even my cotton gloves.

Items I didn’t use:

  • Mp3 Player.  Did use the headphones for my laptop.
  • Thermometer.  Kept forgetting to check it.
  • Padlock. 
  • First aid kit.
  • Rain jacket.
  • Kitchen stuff.

If I travel to a developing country again, I would make more efforts to be less flashy.  I.e. making my stuff look more used/worn and removing some name brand tags.  Looking wealthy toting expensive stuff seemed to be "rubbing it in" to people.

For instance, my bright new red water bottle stood out like a sore thumb.  I remember once holding a kid who was drinking water out of a reused cough syrup bottle.  And other kids would drink out of small plastic bags after cutting a hole in one corner.  So my water bottle was quite an attention grabber. 

Our group leader used a Gatorade bottle the whole time which I thought was a good idea.  I remember he lost it once and was hunting all over the house looking for it, asking us if anyone had seen his water bottle, which was kind of funny because it was just an old ratty-looking Gatorade bottle we would normally toss in the trash after one use.

Another thought about stuff:  There are people in Haiti who have basically nothing.  We visited this orphanage three times where the kids fell into that camp.  You might think I’d be tempted – in light of their need – to give the shirt off my back or my shoes or something, but I wasn’t so much.  I did want to help them, badly, but not give them random things I was wearing for two reasons: 1) They probably wouldn’t have fit, and 2) I didn’t have enough to give every kid.  If I just gave only one kid something, a fight would likely start.  In fact, in a similar circumstance I saw a fight nearly start at the airport after an American tipped a local "helper." 

The third time I visited the orphanage, I didn’t bring anything.  No hat.  No water bottle (even though it was really hot).  No backpack.  Not even anything in my pockets, as that made the kids pretty curious, and I really didn’t want to give away my wallet.

We did give the kids bracelets, stickers, coloring books and crayons, etc and wished we’d brought more stuff in bulk like that to give.  Oh, for 100 pairs of shoes. 

Ok, that’s the wrap-up! 

The Value of Going on a Short Term Missions Trip vs. Just Sending Money

Before I went to Haiti I was concerned the money I was spending on the trip might be better spent donating directly to someone.  The expense of short term “missions” trips is a frequent complaint regarding them – and there is no denying cash is needed many places… 

I was only in Haiti one week (!) but by the end was convinced there is much that can only be done in person.  Some things money can’t buy.

For instance…

  • …Giving a hug
  • …Playing with kids
  • …Praying with someone
  • …Saying an encouraging word
  • …Offering our time
  • …Holding an orphan
  • …Showing compassion
  • …Listening
  • …Being there

And this may sound bad, but I believe even the simple act of treating those on the lowest economic rungs (like those in the tent cities and several others I met who were nearly destitute) as equals could help impart a sense of dignity to them?  Often these people feel discarded by society.  And for sure we can identify with our brothers and sisters in the Lord no matter what their socioeconomic class.

We (the well-to-do) tend to define poverty in terms of a lack of material possessions.  However, the poor themselves often define poverty rather in terms of a lack of dignity, or a "poverty of being."  And as a lack of hope that their situation will change or that they have any ability to change it. (referenced from a book I recently read, When Helping Hurts)

Servants Asia put together an article regarding ministry among the extreme poor, particularly ministry that involves moving into their neighborhoods and living among them “incarnationally.”  Below is an excerpt from that article I found very thought provoking, dealing with this issue of the "dignity of our presence."  (also discussed back here on simplefollower)

Incarnational ministry sends a message to the host culture that love is real and that it can be costly. The message of love that can be inferred when we incarnate to a neighborhood is especially important for those we minister among, the last and the least.  Poor people can see that if love is costly, then they, as the target, are worth much. This redemptive message is incredibly important to the poor who so typically suffer the world’s lowest self-esteem and build up enormous emotional scar tissue from being at the bottom.

Time and again our neighbors have told us that they are certain God must love them because we have come from "so far." Others have told us that we are the first Christians they have met that "seemed real," "made sense," or treated them as peers. Our proximity through incarnation can inspire this kind of appreciation and trigger a sense of empowerment.

G. K. Chesterton writes: "No plans or proposals or efficient rearrangements will give back to a broken man his self respect and sense of speaking with an equal. One gesture will do it." 

[Additionally], in choosing to move in with the poor, we more than help raise self-esteem. We validate hope by showing our neighbors we entrust to ourselves the same upside-down gospel we proclaim. In living as poor among the poor, we express with our lives that we believe in God when He declares that those of "humble circumstance" may "glory in their high position" (James 1:9), and that in His economy, He raises the needy "to sit with nobles and inherit a seat of honor." (I Samuel 2:8)

I cannot emphasize this enough.

The message we send to the poor when we do not relocate among them is that their environments are too toxic for good Christians to live in, despite what the Bible says about the blessedness of the poor.  This … can lead them to conclude that the state of their poverty is of graver significance than the state of their souls. 

~Incarnational Ministry Among the Poor

I didn’t relocate to Haiti permanently, but I think there were still ways I was able to say, "This place isn’t too toxic for me."

For example…

  • Sitting down beside someone in the dirt to talk
  • Entering a person’s impoverished home (ragged tent) and allowing them the privilege to treat me as an honored guest
  • Putting my arm around a kid covered in sores, filthy, ill clothed

These things were the least I could do, but I’m wondering if they weren’t also perhaps important things. Things that affect a body on the inside, their dignity versus 1) giving a chair to the person sitting in the dirt or 2) insisting a poor person come to my house or 3) merely handing out a clean tee-shirt.

I’m sure they could all use both, but perhaps the intangibles are what touch the heart.  And these intangibles can’t be sent with a check. 

So my conclusion is this: there is a benefit to going. 

But what is really convicting is how I should be an encouragement wherever I am, at home or abroad.  I guess on a “missions” trip (I don’t like that term) one can feel as if the whole goal is to serve people, so we do more than usual.  But isn’t that what we’re called to do anyways, regularly?

For instance, how often do I complain?  Quite regularly.  But Paul said:

“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to ther needs, that it may benefit those who listen.”  (Ephesians 4:29)

To tie all these thoughts together I want to share a short story.  It’s by my friend Will Miller who is in the Philippines.  I believe it captures all these concepts together.  Here are some excerpts:

When I arrived [at a party for an acquaintance who had just been baptized], I felt almost like I was the guest of honor.  They ushered me inside their house and gave me the prime seat in the middle of their seating area.  I sat down on what used to be a car seat in the middle of a wooden house with one light bulb dangling from the ceiling.  We had nearly 20 people crammed into the house for the celebration… then it was time for Sully to give his testimony.  He told us how thankful he was that God was pursuing Him and loving him enough to provide for and bless his family…

I had no idea how much my presence meant to Sully until we talked a little after.  You see, one thing that I’ve learned is that 90% of the ministry out here is just showing up and being social with the people.  Just the fact that I’m willing to come and eat rice and fish with my hands in a shack with dirt floors means a lot to these people. They take pride in the fact that they can host a "real life American", and they want to hear what I have to say.  Unfortunately for me, tonight they wanted to hear it in song.  I’m a horrifically tone deaf singer, and I typically stay away from these situations, but it was his birthday and his one request of me.  So I had to suck it up.

Luckily, or unluckily, I told them about my favorite hymn, The Power of Your Love, and they all knew it.  My solo turned into a group chorus, and we were all able to sing old hymns for a while after we ate.  It was really a sweet time to share with the family.  While Sully couldn’t fully understand the words we were singing, one of my friends was able to translate for him the meaning of the song.  He said it was because of the power of God’s love that he was able to make his decision that day and that he now loved that song as well.

We didn’t stay very long after, but it was just long enough for everyone to leave with a huge smile on their faces.  When people ask me to tell an exciting story of my time abroad, I wonder if I’ll be able to do this one justice?  Dirt floors and old hymns may not sound very exciting, but it’s times like these that I believe I can never be the same…

~ Day 294 — Sully

Perhaps the most precious gift we can give anyone is our time. 

Agree?  Any other examples come to mind of how this plays out in our everyday lives?

Pastor Pierre Wilnord

Pastor_Pierre_WilnordAdventures in Missions (AIM) has contacts with 650 churches in Haiti.  That’s a lot of contacts!

AIM has a program called “Church to Church” that facilitates churches in the US sponsoring churches in Haiti.  So far they have about 35 American churches signed up to sponsor a Haitian church.

The group I went to Haiti with for a week through AIM visited a pastor named Pierre Wilnord.  His church, Gospel Christian Church of Haiti, was founded through his efforts in 2005, currently has about 60 members, and is located in Carrefour, a bedroom suburb community of Port-au Prince with a population of 400,000.

I went to two services at Gospel Christian Church.  Each time Wilnord gave a very encouraging message, alternating both Creole and English.  At the second service two of our girls shared their testimonies (and he translated) and I shared a brief word as well.  If you’re reading this, thanks Pastor for letting us speak at your church!

The picture below shows our group with Wilnord in the center:

Group Pic

In 1999, Wilnord married and now has six children.  His youngest, Esther, was born 27 days after the earthquake.  He told me how he was praying his wife would not deliver early because everything was crazy after the earthquake!  In fact, for quite awhile they were living in the street as aftershocks were still making the buildings dangerous.  He said the Lord answered his prayer and by the time his wife delivered the situation had calmed.

Wilnord has a large vision.  He told me he wants to see “many people led to Christ.”  He also has a vision regarding education.  I think this too is an important work in Haiti, as only about half the population there is literate.  And among those who are educated, few are beyond the 8th grade.

Several years ago Wilnord started an affordable private Christian school for the children of his church and neighborhood.  Currently there are around 80 students from K-8.  They teach the basic subjects, plus a number of others including a Bible class, and even a computer class.  They don’t have any computers to practice with, but are taught the basics like what a mouse is, what a monitor is, how to turn it on, etc. so someday when they see one, “they’ll know how to work it.”  Of course, there are people I know who have one to practice on who still don’t, “know how to work it.” 

Wilnord told me he wants to start a feeding program at his school, as kids often come to school hungry.  He also explained to me how he was frequently hungry at school himself as a kid and how hard that made it for him to study.  He wants to give these kids a better chance. 

However, money is a problem.  I got the impression that before the earthquake he was able to make ends meet better, but now parents are in more desperate situations and not always able to pay.  It’s not unusual for his six teachers to work with no pay!  I don’t think that would fly here in the States.  Teachers just wouldn’t work, I predict.  Here in Kansas the state was sued when they tried making cuts in the education budget.  I guess it’s unconstitutional to not spend money you don’t have.

Wilnord shares more of his vision for the education ministry on his blog here.  There’s a YouTube video at that link put together by AIM I went ahead and posted below as I found it interesting.  The footage is right from where I visited.

Pierre Wilnord explains his vision for this school in Carrefour, Haiti

Tent City Story–Why So Much Disparity in Wealth?

Kid_Holding_Haiti_Piece_of_Paper_in_Hand

I’m learning a short "missions" trip can really spin you around.  One day you’re marching along in everyday life and then – wham, you’re transported to another world.  A world where people don’t have the same privileges I do.  Where water and electricity are sporadic.  Where food and clean water are not a given.  Where medical care is sketchy.  A world that is very uncertain and dangerous.  And a world that is dirty, many places looked more like a dump than home. 

But in this new world one thing was the same: people.  Regular people.  People just like me.  People going through their normal routines.  Routines more raw, more earthy.  In Haiti there is less veneer than the US of an ordered, controlled life.  I think this causes them to think more about spiritual matters.  Life is precarious there.

Then, before you know it, bam, you’re transported back to the "real" world.  Back to never ending miles of smooth blacktop.  Back to Learjet.  Back to standing in a hanger full of high-end business jets.  What, how could this be?  Back to convenient food, clean water, and modern conveniences.  Even simple things look different.  Clean carpet instead of gravel and concrete.  When I walked back in my modest apartment it was like walking into a 5 star hotel.  Then there’s the whole hot shower with pressure thing.  On a campout I once went over a week without a shower.  But that’s a little different than a city of millions where probably very few have experienced a pressurized hot shower in their entire lives.  Not that they don’t stay clean, they do.  I was impressed by everyone’s personal hygiene.  But the method for washing is often more like a bucket poured over the head.  And that water pulled up from a cistern by hand.

Front_Room_of_my_Apartment

How can such disparate existences coexist in the same world?

After we arrived in Port-au Prince, we were bussed to the location we stayed at in Carrefour, a suburb of 400,000.  Everywhere we went during the week we walked.  Then the last day we were again bussed back. 

But I want to talk about the tent cities.

On the initial drive across Port-au Prince I remember seeing a large tent city.  In fact, there are still hundreds of thousands of people living in tents. 

Tent City Outside the Airport

When I saw this first tent city, it was easy to think maybe it wasn’t that bad living there.  I mean, I like camping, I like tents.  Maybe it’s not really that bad, maybe they’re used to it.

Then, one day we walked to a small tent city.  Perhaps 50 tents.  And I got to see firsthand how they live.

Tent_City_Aerial_in_Carrefour

I walked through it and talked to people.  I asked them what their struggles were.  They invited me into their tents.  Not high-end tents like North Face, Eureka, or even Coleman.  They were just tarps stretched over stick frames that had been lashed together with bits of string and old bungees. 

I saw how they lived.  The dirt floors.  The sweltering heat inside that would cause sweat to start dripping off my face and soak my shirt.  The mattress lying on the floor.  The tarps were aging in the sun, I’m sure they will leak when the rainy season comes.  And everything will turn to mud then too.  The people without good clothes.  One lady told me she couldn’t go to church because she didn’t have good enough clothes. 

Tent_City_2

Another lady was sitting in the dirt outside her dwelling.  I asked her if she had any prayer requests, and she told me she was miserable.  She asked if I would pray for her in her misery.  My heart really went out to her, and I wished there was more that I could do besides pray.  But, perhaps that was the greatest thing I could do. My faith is weaker than I would like, I’m afraid.

  So I prayed, and I quoted Matthew 11:28 in my prayer, "Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.  Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.  For my yoke is easy and my burden is light."  When I finished, she raised her hands and I took one, and she uttered a doxology of sorts.  When she finished my translator told me she was thanking us for being there, and for praying, and that while we prayed she felt a peace come upon her.  Then she stood up with tears in her eyes and gave us each a hug.  Crazy.

Another lady was widowed with three sons.  Her youngest was fifteen, and he was lying on a cot in their tent.  This boy was emaciated, nothing but a skeleton, like you see in National Geographic.  Obviously he was suffering from some type of wasting disease.  His face was like a skull.  His arms like pencils, his legs tiny sticks.  But he was a tall kid; how was he still alive?  I squatted down next to him, put my hand on his shoulder, held his hand.  His other hand spasmodically swatting flies. Prayed for him.  What more could I do?  He needed medical attention, but they didn’t have money.  Was told he had once seen a doctor, received an injection, but got worse instead of better.  The mother was very concerned.  She was not a Christian.

Real people.  No, they do not enjoy the scorching heat in their tents.   They don’t want to be homeless.  They wish something would change.  They feel trapped.  They are squatters, the land owner putting pressure on them to move.  They all asked prayer for a permanent place to stay.

Tent_City_3

I talked to a number of women who were widows with young children.  One woman’s husband had died in the earthquake.  Another woman’s husband was in the hospital from a motorbike accident.  Yet another woman had a one-month old baby who was sick.  The mother did not have food and was hungry (and consequently, the baby was too as the mother wasn’t producing milk). It was so sad to see her infant quite ill.  We gave her what we had, a few granola bars.  I felt like a heel for not being able to help her more. Then later, on our walk back I remembered there was a bag of trail mix in my backpack I’d forgot about and felt horrible for not giving her that as well.

Just thinking about all this makes we wonder if it was real, if my memory isn’t playing tricks on me.  But then I remember my translator, Watson, and the concern on his face.  He is a pastor, a local Haitian, has a theology degree, and translates as a side job though he told me he considers translating for Missions Teams a ministry as much as a job (he doesn’t get paid much).  I have a lot of resepct for Watson, he’s a courageous guy.  And Watson was particularly concerned about the woman with the young baby who was sick and hungry.  He told me that surely these people had great need. 

When I expressed a desire to come back with more food he agreed that was a good idea and suggested we come back sooner than later.  He even recommended we come back the next morning, because some of these people were hungry now

DSC01093

That night I felt guilty eating supper, knowing that a few minutes walk from me people were hungry.

We did get back, but it was two days later.  We came with 10 daypacks full of food.  We were warned to be very discrete in giving the food away and only when we were inside of someone’s tent.  If people got wind we were handing out free stuff a riot could start.  Even our translators were a little uneasy about our how things would turn out.  They warned our group several times how important it was to be secretive.

10 Donated Food Bundles

But all went well, and we were able to distribute the ten packages of food to ten very needy tents.  But it was a drop in the bucket – the need was so overwhelming.  We were only at one small tent city.  And we only helped several there.  But they appreciated it. 

Not all our team went around visiting.  Some played with the kids in the vacant lot next door.  We had several folks on our team who were simply amazing with kids. I envied them.

Tent_City_3_Playing_Soccer

The several tents I gave food to were occupied by believing women.  I told them we were one in Christ, in the same family, and they were my sisters  (the men that did live there in the tent city were mostly out working as we came during midday, but many were widows too). And this small gift was as from the Lord.  I reminded them of how God in His scriptures has revealed the special place He has in his heart for widows and orphans, to provide for them. 

  • "He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing." (Deuteronomy 10:18)
  • "A father to the fatherless, a defender of widows, is God in his holy dwelling." (Psalm 68:5) 

And while reassuring these believing widows with that hope, I myself was hoping to death God was watching over them, because they needed more than our backpacks of food.  It was pretty moving though how appreciative they were: hugging us, and teary.

Driving by the tent city near the airport was one thing (shocking enough), yet rubbing shoulders with the occupants and seeing their need up close was quite another.  I felt privileged to be, in a very small way, the hands and feet of the Lord that day.  These verses came to mind:

  • "So then, while we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, and especially to those who are of the household of the faith." (Gal 6:10) 
  • “Suppose a brother or sister is without clothes and daily food.  If one of you says to him, "Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed," but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it?  In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.” (James 2:15-17)
  • “Religion that God our Father accepts as pure and faultless is this: to look after orphans and widows in their distress…” (James 1:27)

But my tent city experiences brought up hard questions.  What was going to happen to these people next week?  What about when the rainy season hits and everything turns to mud?  Where would they go when the landowner kicks them out? Where was God in all this?  Why are so many people in Haiti in such intractable poverty?  I don’t know. 

But I was glad God did use us in a small way.  And I felt like being there was somehow important too.  I’ve sent money overseas before, but there’s something profound about looking in a persons eyes who is in a desperate situation and encouraging them to keep trusting God.  It affects you.

  • "The LORD is a refuge for the oppressed, a stronghold in times of trouble." (Psalm 9:9)
  • "But the needy will not always be forgotten, nor the hope of the afflicted ever perish." (Psalm 9:18)

Haiti–Jumbled Impressions

Wow.  So much has happened in this last week.  The trip to Haiti has really been amazing and eye-opening.  I recommend for everyone go visit Haiti! 

Just arrived back in the U.S.A. a short bit ago and will be in Florida several days longer so can’t give a long update now but wanted to post just a few pictures.  I’m at a McDonalds.

IMG_1171

From the air, coming into Port-Au-Prince

1

I snapped this from our bus while driving to our location.  Haiti is pretty much a photographer’s paradise.  You absolutely never know what you’re going to see next.  It’s nuts. I thought it was funny to see this guy walkng down the street carrying a rooster.

2

This is also on the drive the first day.  That hour drive was bizarre.  Some of the poverty we saw was abject, I don’t think any of us were prepared for it. 

There’s a lot of hustle and bustle in Haiti.  Everyone is out doing something.  It’s like a massive choreographed dance, everywhere you look is movement.

4

This is Wylder, a teacher at a school we visited.  His classroom is split into two halves by this chalkboard.  The classroom on the other side is taught by his brother.  They are both believers and super nice guys. 

3

This is another classroom at the same school.  These are the kindergarten students.

5

This is Job.  And this is at an orphanage we visited on three separate days.  Many of the kids here were starving for love.  I didn’t realize kids could be that needy.  We played with them, but also just held them a lot.  This guy Job clung to me each time we visited, along with his friend Miel.  Job didn’t smile much.  It took something pretty big to make him smile.  But coloring this one page got him pretty happy.  He tried coloring on my leg, but settled for the concrete floor.  Every time I got up (even to take this picture) he would get up and bring me back to sit next to him.  You should have seen Job when he got an entire box of crayons though, his face just lit like someone had given him a million dollars.  Anyways, I heard there hadn’t been anyone adopted from this orphanage before.  Not sure if that was true.

6

This older girl was going around asking people to write things on her paper.  I thought she was pretty cute.  Notice her shoes aren’t the best.  Some of the kids here were naked, and most were wearing tattered rags.

Haiti Orphanage

This posed shot was the last day we visited.  I look happier than the kids, that’s probably because there is not a lot positive going there – it would have been much easier to start crying.  From left to right: Nickelson, Miel, and Job (Job and Nickelson are cousins).  The two little boys basically adopted ME from about the first minute I walked into the orphanage on the first day we visited.  They hardly left my side each time we came back and were happy to just sit on my lap all day long.  When we left, Miel just hugged me and hugged me… then tried to be brave and told me me he was going to, “be missing me.”

Nickelson has been at the orphanage seven years.  He showed me his bunkroom and we had a good talk the last day via an interpreter.  We played soccer together too.  He’s a good kid and watches out for the younger ones.  I prayed with him, and he gave me a bracelet.  In our conversation one thing I asked him was if there was anything he was looking forward to and he said oui (yes).  When I asked him what, he said, “Adoption.”

There was so much that happened, these pictures don’t even scrape the surface.  But more later.

Our Part. God’s Part.

If I learned anything from my brief stint in playing educator, it was this, “Never do for a student what they can do for themselves.”  (Reference, Are We Listening? from Nov 2009)

Jesus followed this rule both in how he taught and in how he performed his miracles.  We might be able to learn something here.

Once, his disciples were asked by Him to organize a multitude (of at least 5,000 people) into groups of 50s and 100s and direct them all to sit down on the green grass (Mark 6:39-40).  Then Jesus fed them with food created from thin air.  He had the disciples do what they could: crowd control, while He picked up where they couldn’t: multiplying bread miraculously.

“Take away the stone,” Jesus told those standing by the tomb of Lazarus.  This was something they could do.  After they had rolled back the stone:

  • “Jesus called in a loud voice, ‘Lazarus, come out!’” The dead man came out, his hands and feet wrapped with strips of linen, and a cloth around his face.
    Jesus said to them, ‘Take off the grave clothes and let him go.’ (John 11)

The disciples could roll back a stone.  They could take grave clothes off a man.  But they couldn’t raise a dead man from the grave.  Only the power of God can do that.

Today I’m leaving for Haiti.  Will be there for a week.  I’m not sure what to expect.  I’m just planning to show up and serve.  That’s what I can do.  And that’s what we’re called to do as Christians every day, whether at home or abroad.  We serve and share, plant and reap.  But it’s only God who can change a life or save a soul, that’s what He can do.

I may not blog for a week or so, depending on my internet connection.  Would appreciate prayers! 

whitex500

A Haitian child finds her own space as a religious crusade is held in the background at the national stadium on Jan. 9 in Port-au-Prince. The ceremony, sponsored by American evangelist Franklin Graham, came a few days before the country noted the one-year anniversary of the magnitude-7.0 quake that killed more than 220,000 people and left millions homeless. (Ramon Espinosa/Associated Press) (source)

3,000 Years, Baby

Beiber Cover

Do you wonder what the #1 watched YouTube clip is? The answer: Justin Bieber’s music video, “Baby.” Over 483 million hits.

You know how much time that represents? Imagine someone watching that clip over and over again from cradle to the grave. Now, multiply that by 40. Yep, forty lifetimes of time. Or 3,000 years!

No, I haven’t watched it.

Popular music reveals a lot about our culture. It can impact the culture, but mostly reflects it. I don’t think it’s much of a stretch to assume most people watching this song on YouTube are the younger crowd. It is a song by a High School Student, written about High School Students.

So let’s see what we can learn from the lyrics. Here’s a selection:

    Woah oh yeah
    (Whoa oh yeah)
    Eh Eh
    Whoa oh oh oh yeah

    You’re the finest girl i’ve ever seen
    You should be pick me
    So tell me can you dig it
    I’m you everything you need
    So tell me can you dig it

    I’ll always be your number one number one fan, dig that

    Baby baby baby ooo
    My baby baby baby noooo
    My baby baby baby ooo
    I thought you’d be always mine mine

    I can take ya to the movies
    We’ll be there holding hands
    I’ll walk you home from school
    I’ll walk you to your classes
    Playing my 360 yeah you’ll be my best friend
    But most of all baby doll you’ll be my love love love

    Baby baby baby ooo
    My baby baby baby nooo
    My baby baby baby ooo
    I thought you’d always be mine mine

    O I’m gone
    yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
    O I’m gone
    yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
    Know I’m gone
    yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah
    Know I’m gone, gone gone gone
    I’m gone.

Gross. Yuck.

So I be like, “Our culture be getting dumbed down or what, ooo yeah?”

Heartthrob puppy love. The masses swoon.

One thing in the lyrics that struck me was how the song defined chivalrous “manliness” for our High School hero: holding hands, escorting a girl to her classes, and making the Playstation 360 available after school. Noble ideals, those.

It might also involve passionately making out in the school hallways during passing periods, I’ve observed. As a substitue teacher I’ve seen this. Other kids would pass by and ignore them. Teachers would stop them. I stopped them. But later they would continue… this raw behavior reminding me of Regnum Animalis on Discovery Channel. No restraint. Thankfully it’s a minority… but I wonder, has it always been this way?

I’ve also seen girls making out in the hallways with each other.

    “America is like a healthy body and its resistance is threefold:
    its patriotism, its morality, and its spiritual life.
    If we can undermine these three areas, America will collapse from within.”
    -Josef Stalin

It’s happening. We be getting less moral. And we be getting less spiritual. We can’t even be talking straight?

The bottom line: The popularity of “Baby” proves we’re wired for intimacy, but the 483 millions hits proves we’re instead wired to YouTube. Dig that.

So, what do you think the reason is behind this songs popularity?

Who is your authority?

Here are two observations:

  1. Everyone believes something
  2. Those beliefs depend on what/who we hold up as our authority

I recently heard an acquaintance make reference to how doctrinally incorrect it is for Catholics to believe in praying to dead saints. Well, depends on who your authority is. If your authority is church tradition and the pope, then praying to saints may make sense. But if your authority is the Bible alone, then this doctrine becomes more tenuous.

Was talking with Jay yesterday about Universalism – the idea that in the end God saves everyone. Jay pointed out Universalism arises more from philosophical arguments than it does exegetic arguments (from Biblical texts alone).

In other words, Universalism is an extrapolation from a certain viewpoint of God’s character, to the exclusion of clear teachings from the Bible. Reason takes authoritative precedence over the Bible. This same thing happens when folks lean towards hyper-Calvinism, hyper-Arminianism, Preterism, or any number of other “isms.”

At another level, perhaps everyone – consciously or not – takes queues from their immediate culture, accepting the values of their surroundings like a trojan horse. This truism has the potential to turn any group of people into an “echo chamber.” In America, the echo is “Materialism” and “Individualism.” In Asian cultures, the echo is “Honor” and “Community.”

This is why I believe there is is at least some value to exposure of other ways of thinking. In preparing for my upcoming short term missions trip, I read the following:

    “As people we carry with us both a sense of poverty and a sense of abundance. When we go to another culture to serve in some way, we go to offer out of our abundance and our abundance collides with a poverty and often our area of poverty collides with another cultures area of abundance. It is within this collision that we learn about the body and it’s many parts and the fact that we are all on equal footing.” (source)

I realize stepping outside ones own cultural paradigms can be akin to grasping the concept of infinity or visualizing dimensions beyond the third. Tough. I hear the affects of short term missions experiences generally rub off quickly.

But back to my original topic: Authority.

Some exalt their own brain as the ultimate authority. To some extent, I guess we all do. Because at the end of the day all our experiences and thoughts and feelings are filtered through our unique prisms.

Some trust only their five senses, like those in Missouri – the “Show Me” state. This road leads to dismissing all forms of supernatural as irrational, unscientific. Humanism is the result, and evolution the prop for this rationalization.

I observe that when people start throwing the term “heretic” around, usually at its root is a difference in accepted authority more than accepted belief.

Mormons have an extra book, Catholics keep a few Apocrypha, and Jehovah’s Witnesses have their Watch Tower.

Hindus have their Vedas, Mahabharata, and the Bhaghavad Gita. They also have gurus, Indian culture, and ponderous years of tradition.

Muslims have their Qur’an, Hadith, and Sharia code. Extremists an inflammatory set of religious Fatwa’s.

My authority is the Bible. From my investigations, I feel it is a rational decision. Yet I also admit the leap of faith involved. I didn’t personally witness God create the world. I didn’t personally witness Jesus rise from the dead. They don’t call Christianity, “The Faith,” for nothing.

Yet I believe. And that’s what the Bible requests of me. Paul reminds us that three things remain: Faith, Hope, and Love. Seeking yields Hope. Hope yields Faith. Faith yields Love.

I do understand clearly the authority of the Bible can be undermined by merely proving one point false. The rest would inevitably crumble. So far, the Bible still stands, and still remains the best selling book of all time. Translated into 3,000 languages and counting.

Here’s my final point: Who our authority is affects what we believe. What I believe affects how I live. How I live affects my destiny.

As a “for-instance,” the Al-Qaeda hijackers were merely acting consistently with their beliefs. And they believed their actions would yield them a specific destinty. A positive one even.

Christianity too asks us to lay down our lives for a positive result. But not through taking the lives of others, NO! Rather, the exact opposite: to save the lives of others. Jesus is our ultimate example in this.

So, who’s your authority?

Asking the Wrong Questions

Question Mark
An engineer I work with likes to say, “Bad requests yield bad data.”

Asking wrong questions can lead us in wrong directions.

I ran a series of posts about a year ago trying to answer the question, “What makes a church a church?” A Pastor? A Church building? A certain number of people? A religous service?

Then I realized I AM the church, and my original question didn’t make sense. A better question might have been, “What makes a meeting of the church a church meeting?” And I might answer that with: An official service surrounding the Lords Supper (the Eucharest). The New Testament tells us to “do this in remembrance of Him,” but it never tells us to have Sunday School, Youth Group, or Stand-Up Lectures.

We ask, “Why is there so much evil in the world?” when perhaps a better question is, “Why is there so much good in the world?”

We ask, “How can I know more about the Bible or theology?” instead of, “How can I know more about God?”

We ask, “What is God’s will for my life?” but don’t bother with, “What is God’s will for me right now?

We ask, “Who should I marry,” before first asking, “What is my purpose in life?” Answering the latter could shed light on the former.

We ask, “How can we reconcile the teachings of Jesus and Paul?” when they never were UNreconciled in the first place (Jesus vs Paul, by Scot McKnight – from the December 2010 issue of Christianity Today)

We ask, “Why am I the only one who seems to have the absolute corner on truth?” when a more interesting question is, “Why do we all think we’re right?” (Jason Boyett on humility in handling truth – in context with the Rob Bell controversy)

We ask, “Why can’t I hear God?” rather than, “Why am I not listening?” (John 10:27 / Seth Barnes on listening prayer)

So we ask and we ask and we ask. My question is this, “Are we asking the right questions?”

When Helping Hurts: Alleviating Poverty

Introduction (and all that implies)

When Helping Hurts: Alleviating Poverty Without Hurting the Poor… and Yourself by Steve Corbett and John Perkins. I heard of this book through a required reading list of a certain Missions organization, purchased it, and recently finished it. 

Though written from a Biblical perspective, the highlights I took away were rooted more in common sense. I don’t mean that negatively, because I did feel this book added an important piece to the overall puzzle of life I’m slowly piecing together.

The following 5 points aren’t necessarily 5 points from the book, just the 5 points of this post (disclaimer). Since I’m currently reading Total Church, the wires are crossed in my brain between these two books.

Main Point 1 (poverty defined)

The first epiphany uncovered was that we (the rich) tend to define poverty in terms of lack of material goods, whereas the poor themselves (when asked to define poverty) do so more in terms of a poverty of “being." In other words: feeling inferior, trapped, humiliated, deprived of opportunities to make significant decisions with their lives – in short, having a lack of dignity.

Following these lines of thought, the author shows how when materially rich people try helping materially poor people through giving handouts, it only exacerbates the problem because of reasons including the following:

  1. Giving handouts makes the receiver a "charity case," and thus can be interpreted as condescending. This would result in the recipient feeling less dignity and, consequently, more impoverished.
  2. It subtly reinforces the “God-complex” of the donor, further widening perceived relational barriers and setting up a benefactor/client relationship instead of an "everyone created with equal worth and dignity" relationship.

At a more personal level, this anecdote from Total Church:

Mrs. Jones, a mother who has lived in poverty all her life, described the experience of poverty like this: “In part it is about having no money, but there is more to poverty than that.  It is about being isolated, unsupported, uneducated and unwanted.  Poor people want to be included and not just judged and ‘rescued’ at times of crisis.”  (pg. 79)

Main Point 2 (serving others vs. cash handouts)

This may sound like splitting hairs, but instead of asking, "How can I help?" perhaps it would be better to ask, "How can I serve?" The difference may be subtle, but serving can give dignity, whereas receiving charity often requires humility on the part of the receiver.

An example showing how serving can enhance dignity, think about how honored you would feel if someone thought so highly of you they offered to willingly be your servant, free of charge! What an ego boost that would be. And this type of serving is something Jesus did for people during his time here on earth. Jesus even said as much, "For the Son of Man did not come to be served, but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Matthew 20:28).

An example showing how receiving charity requires humility, think about how much humility even receiving God’s gift of salvation requires. Indeed, I speculate this is why most refuse, because it requires their acknowledgment of having a need for a Savior and Lord.  The first step into God’s Kingdom is to become, “Poor in Spirit” (Matthew 5:3).

Main Point 3 (cash handouts OK sometimes)

The point above segues to the following: there IS a time when handouts are appropriate.  As just mentioned, God extends to us the most amazing handout imaginable. Other examples we’re familiar with include times directly after a natural disaster (when a situation is still in the Relief phase) and caring for the very young, very old, and physically/mentally infirm.

Unfortunately, far too often we (well intentioned individuals/organizations) continue in the Relief response long after the situation calls for a Reconstruction response. Reconstruction helps regain pre-disaster conditions via empowering individuals to help themselves.

The final stage is Development.  Ideally this stage is entirely directed, led, and operated by the individual(s) originally needing help. Helping others help themselves is what promotes dignity (the whole, "teach a guy to fish," instead of "giving a guy a fish" concept, yadda yadda).

Main Point 4 (relationships more important than projects)

When Helping Hurts gets into the nitty gritty of Relief vs. Reconstruciton vs. Development and all that entails.  It was quite fascinating, but Tim Chester and Steve Timmis from Total Church get to the heart of the issue and provide real insight here:

…a central theme of the literature on development is the importance of participation.  As a result the development community has created … a collection of methodologies to facilitate community participation… but when development professionals talk about participation, they mean participation in projects.  It is all about working with the poor to identify their problems, to develop solutions, to monitor progress, to evaluate outcomes.  But the poor need more than that… they want to participate in community.  A woman told me, “I know people do a lot to help me.  But what I want is someone to be my friend.”  People do not want to be projects.  The poor need… community.  They need the Christian community.  They need the church.

Main Point 5 (rethinking assessments)

One last insight from the book When Helping Hurts, which I hadn’t thought of before, was the importance of going into a situation providing ASSETS assessments instead of (or at least before) providing NEEDS assessments.

When we approach people by asking what’s wrong with them, it immediately sets us up as “expert” and them as “helpless waifs” needing our rescuing. This reinforces negative poverty mindsets.

When I volunteered with our local Red Cross, I performed many Needs assessments. In retrospect, I see how this one bit of advice could save the Red Cross a lot of money. For instance, we frequently put people up in hotels after their house had caught fire when they probably had family or friends who could have housed them (we did at least check with their home insurance first).

Conclusion (wrapping up loose ends)

At the end of the day, the authors of When Helping Hurts feel that in order to rehabilitate an impoverished people group (or solitary individual), there is no "fast-food" answer. Rather, it involves getting in the trenches, helping them see their own worth, their own assets, and inspiring them forward.

Additionally, long-term solutions are only realized when the spiritual component is considered.  Being reconciled with God is the most important factor for long term success, in my opinion.  Only God can give true freedom.  And we can never grasp our priceless worth until we understand the priceless amount Jesus paid for us.

20 Things I Learned From a Week on Jury Duty

Gavel

This past week I worked as a juror on a case involving a string of burglaries.  We the jury found the defendant guilty of 5 of the 7 theft and burglary charges leveled, which involved over $30,000 worth of stolen property.  The punishment will likely be several years on parole.

Here are some of my observations:

  1. Punishments don’t always match the crime (parole seemed light to me for multiple home invasions)
  2. It is difficult to get ON a jury (they narrowed the pool multiple times)
  3. Hardly anyone wants jury duty (many had convincing sob stories)
  4. Jurors have a lot of dead time spent waiting back in the jury room
  5. Jurors are given access to unlimited free Dr. Peppers (the best part)
  6. Jurors aren’t allowed to take notes during court proceedings, nor ask questions (just told to watch and listen)
  7. Throwing twelve absolutely random people together for a week is interesting, to say the least (I did make friends with all, by the end)
  8. In retrospect, who I felt I identified with closest among the twelve is surprising:
    1. In the “giving-the-benefit-of-the-doubt” category I felt I identified closest with the very cool, personable, and articulate black fellow (he explained his desire to be extra careful not accusing someone who was innocent since he knows from personal experience how unjust it feels to be stopped by police while minding ones own business)
    2. In the “similar-thinking” category I felt I identified closest with the middle-aged married woman who works as a Human Resource agent (not the Engineer or even the other homeschooler, oddly enough)
  9. Proceedings in the courtroom were tedious and over-serious…
  10. …but when all was over the judge and attorneys "let down their hair" so to speak and we had a nice chat with the chaps
  11. It is crazy the number of witnesses who were called to testify (everybody and their dog)
  12. If I ever burglarize a home, it’s important I wear gloves and be careful of of my shoe prints…
  13. …and also beware of security cameras when doing my evil deeds (but not sweat those too much as their footage will most likely be grainy and inconclusive)
  14. Working as a Crime Scene Investigator would be fun, but working as a Detective looked even more fun!
  15. Dusting for fingerprints seems easy, I want to learn how so I can add that to my repertoire of skeeels
  16. The lawyers were less mean and angry than I thought they were supposed to be (even helping each other out at times)
  17. One attorney is currently working 80 cases (how does he keep them all straight?!)
  18. The courthouse doesn’t shut down for blizzards…
  19. …and their cafeteria leaves something to be desired
  20. During deliberation, being the only juror who isn’t sure the baddy is guilty is unnerving!!

God Moves Suddenly, Not Quickly

Hope Naomi wrote a piece recently about how God works. It got me thinking.

She brings out the concept of God working behind the scenes for what feels like an eternity before anything HAPPENS. But then, when God DOES do something, results are immediate. This concept of how God works is something I’ve thought about a lot myself.  I believe the reality is God is working all along, the fruit just not obvious to the bedraggled soul facing the daily grind keeping his head above water. 

The Bible is full of these types of stories and Hope mentions several. Joseph is another perfect example; perhaps my favorite Biblical narrative. In the case of Joseph, events were churning away behind the scenes for many years before the situation suddenly climaxed and a reversal of fortunes occurred. The same is true of the amazing story Esther.

Aslan both Slow & Quick in Prince Caspian

In C.S. Lewis’s tale of Prince Caspian (the movie version), Aslan (symbolic of God) does not enter to save the day when everyone wants him. In fact, quite the contrary: Aslan hasn’t even been sighted for generations! The Telmarines have taken over Narnia and the talking animals are in hiding, many of them reverted back to their unintelligent non-talking ways.  Cair Paravel, the royal castle of Narnia, is in ruins.

But there is a prophecy that one day the High Kings and Queens of old would return… But who believes that? Then, one day, they do! But instead of imposing figures, they’re only kids. And instead of things getting better with their arrival, the situation goes from bad to worse. I guess it’s like they say, “It’s always darkest before dawn.”  Soon it becomes clear that help from Aslan is sorely needed above and beyond the help four royal children can provide. 

The tragic moment comes when Caspian loses all faith in Aslan’s assistance and orders the Narnians to make a preemptive strike on the Telmarine stronghold. This ends in disaster, many of the Narnians are killed and many more captured. The captured are consequently murdered, their heads lobbed into the Narnians redoubt via trebuchet as a gruesome reminder of their folly.

Eventually Aslan does intervene, but is grieved by their lack of faith… because that is what he was looking for all along: Faith.

God Seeks Those Who Have Faith (Mark 5)

Hope mentioned the story of the woman with the issue of blood who suffered for twelve years before Jesus healed her illness in an instant. Coincidently, I was reading that last night and noticing how it is a story within a story, both revolving around this issue of faith.

Jesus is approached by a synagogue ruler named Jairus who pleads with Jesus to come heal his daughter, who is dying. Enroute, Jesus is approached by a sick woman who believes if only she touches the hem of his garment she would be healed. She does, and is. Jesus then stops and takes the time to identify her in the jostling crowd.

The woman confesses to Jesus what she did and, "trembling with fear, told him the whole truth." Jesus responds, "Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace, and be freed from your suffering." So this lady has faith.

Meantime, some men run up and notify Jairus his daughter is already dead, then add, "Why bother the teacher any more?"  Where are these men’s faith?? They clearly don’t believe Jesus is capable of raising Jairus’s daughter from the dead.  Jesus ignores them and instead tells Jairus, "Don’t be afraid; just believe."

When Jesus reaches the house he is laughed at by the mourners. So they don’t have much faith either. But Jairus did, and that is what counted. Jesus raised his daughter from the dead.

Isn’t it interesting how emotions of fear were mentioned in both cases? The woman was "trembling in fear," and Jairus was admonished to "not be afraid."

Closing Reflections

Perhaps an order of progression typical for Christians might be: Suffering mixed with questioning, fear mixed with faith, uncertainty mixed with belief, acts of obedience mixed with hesitancy, all resulting in healing mixed with freedom.

So why does God not always work when we want Him to (i.e. sooner)?  I don’t know, His timing is not mine.  But from what I understand of his attributes from the Bible, it is not for lack of power or knowledge that he refrains.

Prince Caspian

Since I brought up Prince Caspian, I want to point out two other observations of that movie:

  1. It espouses the idea God never works the same way twice (which I agree with) and
  2. towards the end of the flick there is a stunning sequence (great CG!) which symbolically depicts the awesome power of God (represented as Aslan).

A Clip From Prince Caspian the Movie

I found the clip I referred above on YouTube. This is my favorite scene from the movie and depicts the power Aslan heralds against the evil Telmarine leader by “the word of his mouth.”

"The other thing that is becoming more and more achievable are complex simulations. [ScanlineVFX] created the water god [seen at the end of the film]. It was a really masterful effect: to control water like that is incredibly difficult. They told us they’d been waiting do a shot like that for 10 years." Adamson recalls the earliest days of CG animation when water and fur were two of the hardest textures to simulate. "Now we have wet fur." (source)

Did My Life Peak at Six?

Talking about everything changing… even I’M changing. 

Even within a single day I change:  In mornings I’m most creative, in afternoons most tired, in evenings most busy, at night most WIRED.  Once I was a baby, then I was a youth, then I morphed to teen-hood and now I’m just a goof.  Soon I will be old, then I’ll surely die, get carried up to heaven by angels by and by (sorry, couldn’t resist).

The year I was six years old has been my favorite so far.  That was back in 1989, the year I should have gone to Kindergarten but instead stayed home and played hooky (long story).

Beginning my education with a gap year was thinking far ahead of my time.  I predict this practice to catch on mainstream soon.  At such a tender age, spending a year savoring life and contemplating existence is more beneficial than being dropped into “The System," I believe.  Who wants to begin the long, tedious process of staring at a clock and catching runny-nose-colds when the oyster shell of life beckons?  Not I, for one.

Nick, circa 1989Back when I was six, I was into Cowboys.  In particular: BEING a Cowboy. Every day was spent outside riding my bicycle (i.e. Mustang Steed) in the backyard (the Bar-K Ranch) lounging in our wooden playhouse (Davy Crockett’s Alamo) climbing trees (Watchtowers) and lassoing neighborhood alley cats (Rogue Steers). 

Each afternoon at 3, Mom & I would go drive and pick up Luke & Seth from school, listening to the Sugar Creek Gang on the radio enroute.  I loved the Sugar Creek Gang.  I also loved watching the buffalo by their school.  And the spot on 45th Street where the road curved in an S fascinated me. Six year olds are easily entertained.

The evenings were busy watching others work: watching Mom get supper ready, watching Dad get home from the office (I always hid behind the front door and as he entered would leap out yelling "Raaugh!"), watching siblings wash dishes after dinner, watching my baby brother Joe gaze absentmindedly into space, and my favorite: watching Luke build stuff.  Like transforming Dad’s metal gasoline can into a robot (Dad wasn’t thrilled, but I was) or making a balsa wood airplane powered by a giant rubber band.

The airplane project took weeks, as I recall.  I always enjoyed helping him… getting a tool, holding something, or at least providing moral support.  He never minded.  And every day when Luke was at school I would go in the shed and longingly stare at the unfinished contraption, hardly able to wait until he returned to continue progress.  I wished school didn’t exist so he could work on it more.  Little did I know then my negative feelings towards school would only increase with time. 

Seth and I also did tons together: staying up late whispering is one memory.  What we discussed idk, but we did plan a camping trip to the Pecos once, which is still pending (*ahem*).  In the summer, Seth and I often played Cowboys and (politically incorrect) Indians.  I had a beautiful set of six-shooter cap guns which were put to good effect. 

Later I acquired a BB gun which shot nifty holes through the screen windows on our shed, though that activity wasn’t looked favorably upon by the ruling class.  Neither was shattering the light fixture in our living room, something I once did during an epic pillow fight with my brothers.  But that’s all water under the bridge now.

A six year old still has a working imagination.  An imagination that easily transforms a modest backyard into a sprawling Bar-K Ranch.  Or the gutted stock of an antique firearm (a household relic which never ceased to fascinate me) into a Tommy machine gun.

My active imagination could even make up stuff from scratch: I remember exploring uncharted aquatic depths with my personal submarine.  It was yellow with a front bubbled glass window, sported a brilliant search light, and was only large enough for a six year old my size to squeeze into.

Back when I was six, everything in life was new and mysterious… the fine line separating fact from fantasy still blurry.  Best of all, there was nothing to worry about! 

Definitely not the future.  And nothing to stew about.  Fortunately, not the past.  Six year olds in loving families are too busy processing the present.  Now, at twenty-seven, I think about both past and future quite a bit.

All this soliloquy reminds me of a passage from Matthew,

About this time the disciples came to Jesus and asked him
who would be the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.

Jesus called a child over and had the child stand near him.

Then he said, "I promise you this. If you don’t change and
become like a child, you will never get into the kingdom of
heaven.  But if you are as humble as this child, you are the
greatest in the kingdom of heaven." 

(Matthew 18:1-4 Contemporary English Version)

Seems like childhood was one big quest to become an adult.  Then adulthood becomes one big quest to regain the humility, faith, and wonder of a child.

Blizzard Ho in Kansas!

I’ve noticed that Things Change.

The temperature, for instance. Over the last few days in Wichita, we have had:

  • 69 degree weather (Saturday)
  • 40 degree weather (Sunday)
  • 24 degree weather (Monday)
  • 7 degree weather (Today)

Today is a blizzard. Outside it feels perhaps the coldest I can remember. Howling 40 mph winds are churning snow to powder, driving it through the air.

Even with two pairs of gloves, my hands were still hurting by the time I reached my Jeep when I went out for lunch today. Then, getting said Jeep out of its parking stall was a chore. Even in 4WD I had to rock the vehicle back and forth several times to get free. Of course, it would have been easier if I hadn’t parked in a giant snow drift that had looked fun to drive into this morning (and was).

Travelling along the road up to Wendy’s, conditions were white-out at times. I was surprised by a flashing ambulance when it unexpectedly appeared directly in front of me out of the blinding white.

Pulling into the drive-thru (where I again nearly got stuck, saved again by 4WD) I felt as if I were in the movie The Day After Tomorrow. Rolling down the window to accept my food, snow began pouring in along with howling wind. Handing me my Chocolate Frosty, the Wendy’s lady was incredulous I had chosen that item on a day like this. Yelling over the hurricane-like roar I calmly assured her it was only fitting considering how “frosty” it was outside.

Stopped at a red light next to a sports car on the way back, I looked over and saw there was only one person in the car, a lady. Nothing wierd yet, but then I took a double take as I realized she was in the passengers seat! My first thought was, “Of all the days to pull a stunt like driving your car from the passenger seat, you sure picked a hazardus one.” Upon closer inspection I realized there was a steering wheel in front of her, it was a right hand car. Oh.

Trudging back across the parking lot to the office the wind bit into my face, nearly numbing it by the time I reached the door. There were snow drifts higher than my head at the entrance.

Yes, things change. Three days ago I was out jogging in shorts and t-shirts on a bright, sunny, upper 60s degree day.

I’ll post more thoughts on change Thursday. Watch out Obama.

Money the Meaning of Life?

Truth is Truth wherever it’s found, I believe.

Jesus said a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions. And He said it is more blessed to give than to receive.

Self proclaimed minimalist, traveler, thinker, and humanist Colin Wright has come to a similar conclusion even though as near as I can tell he doesn’t follow Jesus in the least  (far from it!) He writes:

"…minimalism shows us that … we are happy without unnecessary excess, without cars and boats and mansions and clothes and all the things of this world. Not that the things of this world are wrong or evil, it’s just that they are not the point of our lives. The point of our lives is much more complex.

The real meaning of our lives is to contribute to other people in meaningful ways, to contribute beyond ourselves." (quote)

Everything Jesus spoke was true, I believe. So to me it’s not surprising when I hear elements of His truth espoused elsewhere. I say “elements” because I don’t think the primary meaning of our lives is to contribute to others in meaningful ways (maybe that’s secondary). Our primary meaning is being in right relationship with God, I believe.

Having said that, I DO think someone looking at a follower of Jesus from the outside should observe – as a primary characteristic – him or her contributing to others in meaningful ways. Like Jesus said, “As I have loved you, so you must love one another. All men will know that you are my disciples if you love one another.” (John 13:34-35)

Issues surrounding money are enormous. Their ramifications tenuously affect every corner of our souls and lives. For instance, the #1 reason given as cause for divorces is financial conflict, I’ve heard.

The question arises, "How much do we really need – how much is enough?" The joking answer is, "Just a little more." Why is it we always crave more? Satan tried exploiting this known weakness when tempting Jesus:

"Again, the devil took him to a very high mountain and showed him all the kingdoms of the world and their splendor. “All this I will give you,” he said, “if you will bow down and worship me.”

Jesus said to him, “Away from me, Satan! For it is written: ‘Worship the Lord your God, and serve him only.’” (Matthew 4:8-10)

Some of this thinking has been spurred by a real situation in my own life.  Here’s a hypothetical question, “If you had an opportunity to immediately double your income but it was through moving into a ‘gray’ area, would you be tempted?”  My comment is: gold fever comes easier than you might think in situations like this.

Jesus said the love of money is the root of all kinds of evil. In my experience, the difference between wanting enough money and loving money is a fine line.

But like Colin Wright said, the point of our lives is not in owning things of this world. Or, to again quote Jesus, "A man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions."

Our version of wealth is defined in terms of how much we MAKE. But God’s version of wealth is defined in terms of how much we GIVE.

Onward and Upward

SaladSpinach greens, red peppers, green peppers – for a salad.  That’s what my friend Keith brought last night when he came by for supper.  I added cheese and pulled out several dressings from the fridge.

Sitting down to eat, Keith was about to pour some Italian dressing on his salad when I stopped him, "Hey!  You might want to check the expiration date on that."  He did, and it was September 2009.  So I checked the date on the Ranch: it said best by February 2010.  But they both smelled ok so we went ahead and used them.  It didn’t say they were expired, just best if used by the dates listed.

The moral of the story is some things last longer than one might think.  At least I’m not sick yet.  The other moral is I don’t eat salad often.

When I was a little kid, all us brothers used to go to a barber shop run by two older guy barbers.  We called them "The Old Geezers."  Not to their face of course, but the name stuck behind their back.  A couple weeks ago I needed a haircut and decided to return; it had been years since I’d last seen them.  One of the men was ominously missing, but the other barber remembered me right away.  As he was cutting my hair he began reminiscing:  had been barbering in that same shop for forty-three years, remembered giving me my first haircut, and was my brother the one who went to West Point? 

Sadly, his hair cutting partner had died recently of cancer.  From my perspective as an adult the surviving barber didn’t look that old, maybe 65.  And he was a “geezer” when I was a kid? Bet he will be barbering many years to come. 

Our society tells us we need to kick back and relax after a certain age.  But in my mind, similar to the out of date salad dressings, I hope to be good long after my expiration date.  I don’t ever plan on retiring.

My Grandpa sets a good example: he retired, but then went to Jamaica as a full-time missionary for five years.  Then he retired again, only to accept a full-time church pastorate for several more years.  Then he retired again, but soon was driving for a rental car agency while filling in as a substitute pastor.  He has a hard time sitting still.  So do I.

"You can’t teach an old dog new tricks," we oft hear.  But is it true?  I believe in life-long learning and can confidently attest to having learned more in the last five years since graduating college than in the four years previous at college.  At least more worthwhile things.  Just goes to show a college diploma isn’t the panacea it’s cracked up to be. 

We can’t sit on our laurels.  I remember watching a young pianist on TV being lauded as fantastic.  She was, for her elementary school age, but not by any other standard.  In order to be fantastic as an adult or even a teen she would need to improve dramatically.

What are we doing to keep ourselves sharp?  Flowing water remains fresh, but a calm pool turns stagnant.  A musical instrument stays in tune better when played. 

Here’s how the apostle Paul put it:

"I do not run like a man running aimlessly; I do not fight like a man shadow boxing. No, I beat my body and make it my slave so that after I have preached to others, I myself will not be disqualified for the prize."  (1 Corinthians 9:26-27)

"But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus."  (Phil 3:12-13)

Prepare Yourself

I have a co-worker who ran into a curb this morning with his car. It slid on ice and bent his rim. He didn’t have a car jack or tire iron, incredibly. He also was only wearing a cotton hoodie though it was 5 degrees out (yes, that would be Fahrenheit).

The Boy Scout motto is, “Be Prepared.” Anyone who knows us Middleton guys is aware we oft take this overboard. For instance, right now I’m carrying in my pockets a flashlight, knife, jump drive, and band-aid, among other paraphernalia. I use it all regularly. For instance, was exploring an underground culvert recently and the flashlight came in handy. As it did when I was searching under my car seat the other night for a lost item but instead only found oldish French Fries. Left them there for later, never know when I’ll get stuck in a blizzard and need extra carbs. All part of being prepared.

Failing to plan is planning to fail, they say.

In our Christian lives, preparing involves prep work in the Word and time alone with God. Was listening to a message titled Read Great Books by Chip Ingram where he said one of the most common questions he’s asked by young people is, "How can I know God’s will for my life?" Chip said he counters with, "How much time have you been spending in the Word?" to which he usually gets the response, "What does that have to do with anything?" Everything, really.

"My sheep listen to my voice; I know them, and they follow me." (John 10:27)

Chip’s message was emphasizing the value of reading in general, which I wholeheartedly agree with. Right now I’m in the middle of two books, while continuing to digest contents from several previous. See Chip’s message notes, which includes his recommended reading list.

Along the lines of "cultivating the garden of our minds," Donald Miller had a short and witty write-up on the value of filling our minds with high octane fuel rather than spastic junk food.  Here’s an excerpt:

If you are wondering why there are no more C.S. Lewis’ in the world, no more stories as good as Tolkien’s, no cathedrals as great as the gothic’s, no music as moving as Pachelbel’s, it may be because the writers of these books, the tellers of these stories, the architects of these buildings and the composers of these symphonies are sitting on their couches watching television. I wonder what’s on tonight. (Miller)

I’m wondering, what am I doing now to prepare myself for the future?

Do Women Work Harder Than Men? And Other Gender Issues.

I’ve heard 2/3rds of the world’s manual labor is done by women.  A quick search on Google didn’t substantiate this fact, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if it were true.

From my unofficial observations, women DO work harder than men.

If you believe the creation account as given in the Hebrew Old Testament, the first woman was created after the first man, and was designed as a complementing partner, an excelling helper.  Of course, this implies Adam NEEDED help, which he most certainly did, as all men have since. 

In Romans 16 the Apostle Paul gives his greetings to a number of co-laborers.  I put together a list comparing the ratio of men to women he mentioned, with the descriptive title he gave for each:

Notes from Romans 16

So Paul mentions six women and only two men.  One of the men (Aquila) was a husband to one of the women (Priscilla) and between the two men mentioned, neither were commended for working hard.  On the other hand, four of the women were listed as "hard workers."  And Paul said one of the ladies (Mary) worked VERY hard.

I’ve noticed women can be such wonderful workers in their own right they don’t always see need for men.  The reality is, the Bible teaches, both men and women are happiest when playing the roles they were designed for.  Ladies seem capable of performing either role with ease, whereas many guys seem to struggle with their own.

Backing up, from my understanding of Holy Scripture, men and women do have equal worth, but different roles.  Biblical New Testament Christianity clearly ascribes gender equality amongst Believers:

"There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."  (Galatians 3:28)

And the Bible also states men and women have the same destiny, a belief which would differ greatly from other religions such as Islam:

"Husbands, in the same way be considerate as you live with your wives, and treat them with respect as the weaker partner and as heirs with you of the gracious gift of life, so that nothing will hinder your prayers." (1 Peter 3:7)

I can hear it now, "Sexist! How could Peter say women are weaker?!"  It may not be politically correct to say, but in certain respects (most obviously physically, and perhaps that’s the only category), women are weaker: on average and also in the extremes.  For instance, height:  The average American woman is 5′-4", whereas the average American man is 5′-9.5". (source for height demographics

And when we go to the extreme, the same trend holds.  The world record for bench pressing is held by Ryan Kennelly, who has lifted 1,075 pounds.  The female world record for bench pressing is Becca Swanson, who’s pressed 600 pounds.  Granted, I personally can only bench about the weight of the bar, and these folks are probably on steroids, but my point is that, in general, the average man is stronger physically than the average woman. 

So I don’t think we should roll Peter under the bus for his observation.  Especially since it was written 2,000 years ago when political correctness wasn’t all the rage.

What is more amazing is the second part of his statement, where Peter unabashedly recognizes men and women have the same destinies: both are heirs together of the promise of life.  And both will be judged equally by the same standards at the judgment seat of Christ.  Positionally, the Bible teaches men and women are equal.

In our society today, I see gender lines blurry at best and non-existent at worst.  In July 2010,  Newsweek ran an article entitled, Women Will Rule the World.  It listed the following stats:

In the US, women…

  • …outnumber men in the attainment of college degrees by 20 percent
  • …hold 89 percent of all bank accounts
  • …made 83 percent of all consumer purchases last year
  • …represented 72 percent of class valedictorians last year

Nature abhors a vacuum.  Men vacated and women filled.  Or women invaded and men fled.  Not sure which.  Either way, I say it’s no time for women to stand back; rather, it’s HIGH time for men to step forward. 

What do you think?

Is The Perfect Family Size Really 3 Kids?

Here’s a question for you, “How many children would you like to have?”

This question was asked by Rick and Jan Hess to a group of singles in a survey they gave to four evangelical churches (Berean, Christian and Missionary Alliance, Evangelical Free, and General Conference Baptist) and one Bible College. 

The average answer?  3.2  (note that four out of five choices were for two, three, or four children) 

From my unscientific observations I would say the belief that three kids is best (if not too many) is fairly widespread. Considering the average family size is 3.1 in America, I would say my unscientific observations aren’t far off.

Back to the Hess’s survey:

  • How many hoped to get married?  98%
  • How many planned using birth control?  92% 

Ironically, in the 8% who didn’t plan on using birth control, the average number of children desired was only 2.5.

So, who would be missing from the halls of history if everyone in the past decided only to have 3 children?

This is random, but let’s start with classical musicians:

  • Bach (8th born)
  • Mozart (born last of 7)
  • Aaron Copland (last of 5)
  • Robert Schumann (last of 5)
  • Richard Wagner (last of 9, though I don’t care for his music)
  • Edvard Grieg (4th of 5)
  • William Steinway – yes, the Steinway (7th of 7)

Other well known composers came from large families.  For instance, Franz Hayden was one of seventeen and Franz Schubert was one of fourteen. 

Let’s turn a corner and look at American presidents. 

Who would you say was the greatest president?  I vote for George Washington.  Well, if Washington’s parents had stopped having children after 3, (as the majority of Christian’s in America aspire) there would have been no George Washington!  Because he was born 5th of 10.  We would also be missing 11 other presidents…

Some like to say the greater the number of children in a family, and the shorter the spacing between them, the less the children’s intellectual capacity.  Well, it is instructive to note that 3/4’s of American Presidents have come from families with more than 3 children, and many from much more. 

For instance, James Madison came from a family of 12 kids, Ulysses S. Grant from a family of 6 kids, Dwight Eisenhower from 7, Kennedy from 9, and Monroe, Adams, Buren, Johnson, Nixon, Bush, and myself from families of 5 children.

Turning another corner, what influential Christians would be missing?

  • Augustine (born 4th of 4) 
  • Dietrich Bonhoffer (born 8th of 8 )
  • Oswald Chambers (born 4th of 9 )
  • Jonathan Edwards (born 11th of 11)
  • Charles Finney (born 7th)
  • Dwight L. Moody (6th of 8 )
  • Andrew Murray (at least 4th)
  • Nate Saint (7th of 8 )
  • Corrie Ten Boom (born 5th)
  • Cameron Townsend (born at least 5th)

And I find the folowing two most incredible:

So Charles birth is pretty amazing!  And Charles’s work is equally astounding: Did you know he wrote over 9,000 poems? Many became hymns, including:

  • Rejoice, the Lord is King
  • Oh, for a Thousand Tongues to Sing
  • And Can it Be
  • Christ the Lord is Risen Today
  • Hark! the Herald Angels Sing

In the Old Testament there is a story about a shepherd boy who slew a giant named Goliath, became King of Israel, wrote the book of Psalms, was in the lineage of Jesus, and was promised to have one of his descendants reigning on a throne for all eternity.  Of course I’m talking about none other than King David, who was a youngest born and eighth child.  If Jesse has stopped at seven sons, how would history be different?  At the very least, we would be missing most the Psalms. 

Wrapping up, let me point out that Jesus Christ came from a large family:

“Isn’t this the carpenter’s son?  Isn’t His mother’s name Mary, and aren’t His brothers James, Joseph, Simon and Judas?  Aren’t all his sisters with us?”  (Matthew 13:55-56)

From these verses, it can be inferred Mary & Joseph had at least seven children.  Perhaps this isn’t surprising though… isn’t seven the number of perfection?  Of course, let’s not forget that in a spiritual sense Jesus has the largest family: He was the firstborn among many brothers, of whom I am one, along with all believers.

I don’t have a point to this post.  I just find these facts interesting and challenging to the status quo of birth control and the perfect family size of two/three children we take for granted.  Heck, nowadays it’s not uncommon for married couples to have zero children.

I wonder though, who will not be around 100 years from now because of our beliefs that small family sizes are ideal?  The pragmatic philosophy of today cheerfully dismisses this line of musing with, “Who cares?  We won’t be around to see or care.” What do you think?

Material from this post was taken from A Full Quiver: Family Planning and the Lordship of Christ by Rick and Jan Hess.

Christmas Eve on the Piano, from my Fireside to Yours

As you enjoy time with your own families this Christmas, and as you sit on the hearth sipping a cup of hot chocolate next to a warm, crackling fire enjoying a good book, here’s something else to add to the ambience:

From my fireside to yours, a few carols on ye olde grand piano.


Oh Holy Night (mp3)

[audio:http://simplefollower.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/David Lanz Oh Holy Night.mp3]

Oh Little Town of Bethleham (mp3)

[audio:http://simplefollower.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/David Lanz Oh Little Town of Bethleham.mp3]


(arranged by David Lanz from Christmas Eve / played by Nick)

Challenging Status Quo, from the Bride Rebekah to the Bride the Church

Safety, comfort, and stability are basic goals for all civilizations. Here in America we’ve perhaps attained those goals closer than any other civilization, past or present. Here’s my question, “For Followers of Jesus, should safety, comfort, and stability be our goals as well?”

I’ve been struck with how flippantly I treat characters in the Bible. I forget how the immortalized cast were just normal people. Normal people who made brave decisions. Then, as today, the status quo was a magnet, sucking everyone back towards "normal" with its’ inertia.  It wasn’t easier to be brave in the olden days, just because they were the olden days.

For instance, one of my favorite stories is when Jonathan and his armor bearer boldly attacked the Philistines in the power of the Lord while the rest of the troops cowered in fear back in a cave. Status quo was to cower in fear / Brave decision was to risk ones neck, in faith.

It’s easy for us to gloss over facts like 11 of the 12 apostles were martyred for their faith. "Of course they were," we yawn, "they were super Christians."

When Jesus called men to follow him, they were busy with their own lives – he interrupted them. But we take their decision to leave all as a matter of course, "It was a no-brainer, if someone as important as Jesus came along, I’d follow him too. No bigee."  Yet Jesus hadn’t performed any miracles yet, who knew then he was the Messiah?  Was it common knowledge?  I doubt it, Jews still argue over that point today.  True, John the Baptist had endorsed him, but my point is these men were making a major life changing decision:

As Jesus walked beside the Sea of Galilee, he saw Simon and his brother Andrew casting a net into the lake, for they were fishermen. 

"Come, follow me," Jesus said, "and I will make you fishers of men."

At once they left their nets and followed him.  When he had gone a little farther, he saw James son of Zebedee and his brother John in a boat, preparing their nets.  Without delay he called them, and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men and followed him. (Mark 1:16-20)

I wonder, what if Jesus approached me at my job and asked me to up and leave right then, dropping my occupation and everything I was in the middle of doing, would I do that? Could I even do that? After scratching my head, I decide to nod assent and say, "Sure, I suppose I would." But then I think, what if Jesus is asking that of me now? Remember the time Jesus said to them all, "If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me"? 

Sounds like a big decision.  Life changing.

Are my roots anchored too firmly in the soil of this world to be pliable to God’s call?

We hear about "types of Christ” in the Old Testament. Well, here’s a new twist I thought of: “types of future Saints.”  I say Rebekah in the Old Testament is a type of future Saint.

I’m sure you remember the story: Isaac’s Father sends one of his servants back to the homeland to find a bride for his son. Is this not unlike God sending his Holy Spirit to gather a bride for his Son, Christ? In the story, the servant providentially finds Rebekah, who, come to find out, is distant kin to Isaac. He explains who he is, where he’s from, and what his task is: namely, to find a bride for his master’s son Isaac. The servant then asks Rebekah if she will go back with him… now. Rebekah has very little to go on, and little time to think.

Really, what did Rebekah know about Isaac? Practically nothing. Rebekah didn’t get to date Isaac, wasn’t given a two year trial period in which to observe his character – heck, didn’t even get to see a picture! But, in light of the apparent providential hand of God at work, Rebekah made a bold decision: she decided to act in faith and go.  She traded all: parents, family, and stability for the unknown. She put her life on the line:

…they called Rebekah and asked her, "Will you go with this man?"

"I will go," she said.

So they sent their sister Rebekah on her way, along with her nurse and Abraham’s servant and his men.  (Gen 24:58-59)

Seems that God’s always been looking for those willing to act counter intuitively, to step out in faith. Remember Noah, willing to undergo ridicule for building an Ark? And David, willing to risk death by fighting Goliath? Or Abraham, going so far as willing to kill his own son because God told him to?

We can become desensitized after hearing these stories a hundred times and forget how life changing and life impacting the decisions were to the real actors in the real narraratives.

From Old Testament to New Testament, true God-followers have never been willing to settle for the status quo. Quite the opposite, they have always been ones who’ve been willing to step out in faith, making the terrifying decisions.

Lifeless Christmas Lights Symbolic of Relational Shallowness in Middle Class Suburbia

Have you ever thought about the three bedroom house, the literal cornerstone of modern civilization? … Today a housing tract of 3,000 houses is planned and built, then 10,000 people come out for the grand opening, buy up the houses and, almost like programmed robots, move in with their matching furniture, draw the drapes, turn on the t.v. set and sit quietly in front of it for the next forty years. You can actually drive through a modern suburb and think it is a ghost town: you hardly ever see a living thing! ~ Gene Edwards, 1974

Christmas Lights on MansionDo you enjoy driving around this time of year admiring Christmas lights people put up on their homes? 

I did that last night, by myself: through middle class neighborhoods, then ritzy ones.  In neither case did I see a single human being.  An hour of driving, and not one soul.  Sure, I passed lots of cars, and I imagine people were driving them, but I couldn’t talk to them or even see their faces though the windows, because it was dark.  Nobody was out in their front yards, nobody standing around talking, nobody even taking their trash out, nothing. 

I did see a lot of Christmas lights though, their vacant bulbs staring back at me.  One yard had a giant blow-up inflatable with clear walls: inside was a carousel of lifeless elves riding lifeless horses, circling ‘round and ‘round eternally, all powered by an orange extension cord snaking back to the garage.  “Where’s the real?” I wondered.  I want to see real elves, real horses, not caged plastic knock-offs. 

Christmas lights.  So many houses have them, and I love the decorations.  It makes neighborhoods look so inviting, don’t you think?  But what if I were in need of a place to stay, could I go up to any of those doors, knock, and be given a bed for the night?  Based on my door to door experiences, I would guess no.  The American suburbs seem very cold, to me. 

Who even knows their neighbors, beyond immediate ones?  I remember for many years talking about inviting one of our neighbors (a single guy) over for dinner.  We did once.  Then he moved.  But we always referred to him as, “that great single guy next door, he’s a Christian, you know.” 

When I drove through Reflection Ridge, an upscale community, I was struck by the nativities placed in front of massive mansions.  Is there irony in the fact those homes are probably larger than the Inn where there was no room for Mary and Joseph?  And to me, the lighted statuettes seemed lonely out in the cold front lawn by themselves… also lifeless like the elves and horses.  Jesus is forever being neatly memorialized and sent outside, it seems.  Is there room in our hearts for Him, like the well known carol asks?

One property had done up a slew of lights with the theme of candy canes and Santa.  The house next door had done up an equally spectacular display with a Christian theme, featuring a giant Cross and the words, “Joy.”  Besides the differences in decorations, the houses looked identical.  I wondered if those superficial variations in decorative taste were representative of the depth of other differences between the occupants.  I hoped not.

Hope Mendola finished a year long missions trip this past August.  She’s written about how living in close proximity to her teammates nearly drove her nuts.  At least, during the time, but now that she’s back to a “normal” life here in the US, the superficiality of the relationships with those in her weekly small group (the American church’s limp noodle, lifeless version of community) is also driving her nuts.  I suppose there is some happy balance.  And Hope wasn’t implying her friends here in the US were shallow, I believe she was merely sad the form here for being involved in each others lives is so shallow. Read her reflections here.

Regarding community, Dietrich Bonhoeffer had this to say:

The person who loves their dream of community will destroy community, but the person who loves those around them will create community.

That quote hits close to home with me.

So what do you think?  Are the suburbs really as relationally shallow as I’m implying?  And what can we do to fix it?  Is Bonhoeffer’s quote right on, or do we need a change of form as much as a change of heart?

I’ll leave off with this verse to keep things in perspective, it’s been rattling in my brain recently:

“So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen.  For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (II Corinthians 4:18)

Hope for Even the Biggest Losers

Can The Worst Become Best?

Ever notice how the worst often becomes the best? The kid with worst teeth gets braces, making his the straightest on the block. Saul, the persecutor of Christians, becomes Paul, the Christian Apostle.

Granted, sometimes the worst stays the worst. Some kids have terribly crooked teeth with no opportunity to get them fixed. And some people stay bad: Pharaoh, the persecutor of the Jews, only went from bad to worse.

And granted, sometimes those who start out with everything end up rising to even higher greatness. Joseph in the Bible was a good egg all along, yet still ended up with even more power and influence. And my brother Joe had braces, though I always thought his teeth looked pretty good from the start.

An Analogy From The Biggest Loser TV Show

The Biggest Loser LogoHave you seen the show, "The Biggest Loser?" It’s clever.  It takes grossly overweight individuals and puts them in a contest to see who can lose the most weight by body percent.  The title is a misnomer, as the biggest loser is in fact the biggest winner: he gets $250,000, fame, and loses enough weight to be considered healthy again. 

What this show has to do with my opening observation is that some of the people on this show go from being the most obese (400+ pounds!) to some of the fittest, in shape fellows.  Incredible.

I watched the season finale at my brother Joe’s house this past Tuesday (yes, the same one with now straight teeth). Ironically, we ate snacks through the entire two hours.

What struck me most was the liberating transformation of the participants’ attitudes, not just their bodies. Seeing people step from an old depressed self into freedom was inspiring. I’ll admit, when I see a grossly obese individual in public (sometimes so heavy they ride around on a motorized scooter), it’s tempting to forget there’s a human soul in there, with feelings and emotions.

And some of the participants were pretty gross looking at the beginning. I feel sheepish to admit most these people would have been the type I’d have written off in my mind as slobs with no ambition. But by the end of the eight months these same people had completely transformed and you could feel their pride over the change: They had been set free and were beaming!

And they were all quick to give credit where it was due: "We never could have done it on our own," they each said.

As the new, thinner, disciplined personas emerged, it was satisfying to realize how likeable these people really were. They were great people who had become trapped in destructive cycles of poor choices, hopelessness, and depression. But now they were set free, hopeful regarding their future, and joyful. It makes me look at obesity in a new light, in light of what could be.

We are ALL Biggest Losers

I think this is how God views all of us in our sin. With our yucky hearts (with which we ALL will act out as much as we can get away with), we’re a lot like the Biggest Losers on the TV show.

But thankfully for us God looks beyond our sin sickness to envision what could be. Where others are revolted, God envisions redemption and healing. God doesn’t see addicts, he sees people in captivity in desperate need of freedom.

And there is no one too far gone for God to not be able to reach down and free.

If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.” (1 John 1:9)

What about Real Life? What about Andrew Henderson?

Ok, hold on as this post is about to take a disturbing turn…

In light of the sickening story that hit the Wichita Eagle this past week about one of The Biggest Losers we could envision (convicted rapist Andrew Henderson) let me go on a limb and say God doesn’t see a rapist, he sees a selfish, rebellious human being who in fact despises his own actions, is ensnarled by lies, and has a crater in his soul which can only be filled by love, and that only if he has a repentant heart.

Boy, I hate to open this can of worms, but since my motto is, "life is messy," I guess I will. Andrew Henderson’s story gets to the heart of "life is messy." You can find the article on kansas.com (linked above) but be warned, it’s disturbing. 

What I found most fascinating in the article was where it broached the subject of forgiveness. In particular, how the girls’ rescuer Shelly was treating Andrew now that he is in prison and the change Andrew has made since being put in prison five years ago:

Almost immediately after she saved them, Shelly began doing things that baffled and upset the twins. She wrote Andrew in prison, hinting at kindness. She worried that judgmental inmates might hurt him. His answer surprised her: Putting him behind bars was the best thing anyone did for him, he told her. He said he would not have stopped. He said he was sorry.

The twins scoffed when they heard this.

And after she [Shelly] reached out, some neighbors confessed to disgust. They should burn, one said of the Henderson males. Why are you being nice to them? Monsters.

Shelly felt sorry for these critics. What kind of Christianity was that?

“I’m not foolish about Andrew,” she said one day, with Kathie sitting beside her on the couch. “He hurt the girls too much. I want him to be punished too. But of course he can be forgiven. What Christian should think otherwise?”

The comments at the bottom of this article on kansas.com are boiling – you can feel the scathing heat as people blast Shelly’s forgiving attitude and lash out toward a God who would let this type of evil continue for years. Where was God? Why didn’t he intervene?

This comment (edited) is typical:

…you say, "God will always be there for you”?

And he sure proved it every moment these children prayed & cried & begged for help.

We are All Born Captive to Sin

The existence of evil is perhaps the most serious accusation leveled against Christianity.

In light of the current Christmas season, is all really well here on earth? And what about the angels who appeared, heralding, “Peace on earth, good will toward men?” (listen to these two clips in my last post for poignant dramatizations)

*sigh* the problem is we all deserve death because of our sins. We all have the dreaded disease.

One person commented on the Henderson article with this same thought:

Jesus came to save sinners, and in his eyes all sin is the same. Obviously, the consequences are much sadder in the case of a pedophile, but sin is still sin. -kansas.com

Last Saturday I went to a Hare Krishna lecture (long story) and guess what the message about? Our need for cleansing from the impurities in our hearts.

I would suggest all humanity knows instinctively there is something broke inside us, that we are guilty. This is true whether we are from India or North America.

We have all rebelled against God.

“For all have sinned and come short of the glory of God.” "For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life…"

Andrew was simply at an advanced stage of acting out.

Why did he go so far? I would say, “Because he was getting away with it.” And I would also say that every human being alive would stoop to the same level of depravity and even lower if left unchecked.

“Why don’t we then?” Because there are usually negative consequences. For Andrew the negative consequences were temporarily removed, though they did eventually catch up to him.

Here’s the kicker: Refraining from evil to not get punished is not living in freedom from ones own sin nature. You can tell who is really free by who remains upright when the societal norms are removed.

For example, when soldiers were given orers to perform acts against humanity in the Holocaust, many did so quite readily.

My point is this: If you have not been set free from sin by God, you will always slip down to the lowest denominator you can get away with. It may be lying, office gossip, slander, using people for your own benefit, lusting in your mind, despising your brother, or getting drunk, but all these are indicitaive of one who has not been set free from sin.

“So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed.” (John 8:36)

We might not like it when someone receives forgiveness because we want them to burn. But this attitude is dangerous because we all deserve to burn. It is only by God’s grace there is hope for any of us.

“Blessed are the merciful, for they will be shown mercy.” (Matthew 5:7)

Can God Bring Freedom to Perpetrators and Healing to Victims?

Humans are the ones who screw things up and hurt other humans by our own selfish decisions. God gave us free wills and he lets us use them.

But God is also in the business of healing, redeeming what we break.

It’s ironic how God’s grace is actually magnified when he works transformation in Biggest Losers, taking the disgusting and transforming it into a highly prized possession of value. 

When I read this letter Andrew wrote the reporter of the article from prison I have to wonder, “Has God set Andrew free?” I don’t know, but Andrew does sound genuinely repentant, which is a good first step…

What about the victims? Can they find healing?

I believe God is able to make all well and bring healing to victims of denigrating evil; whether they be holocaust survivors like Corrie ten Boom (read this most amazing short story about Corrie forgiving) or children like the Henderson girls.

How does God bring healing? How does God right wrong? I don’t know. But He can, and in real life examples He Has (like Corrie).

At a personal level, I’m thankful the Lord is able to look beyond my sin and offer me forgiveness, reconciliation, and adoption.  I’m thankful He doesn’t write off Biggest Losers because then he would write off me.

“But go and learn what this means: ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners." – Jesus Christ

When Jesus came to earth 2,000 years ago, it was the entrance of God’s Kingdom of Love and Peace to earth.

Like a mustard seed, His Kingdom was planted; and like a Trojan Horse, it slipped into a lowly manger stall. His entrance was a collision of two Kingdoms. And good eventually will triumph over evil. 

Jesus the baby is now Jesus the King seated at the right hand of God, waiting for the fullness in time when He will come back to conquer, reign, and make his enemies his footstool.

I want to close out this post with an excerpt from the book of Revelation.  It’s Christmas time, where we look back 2,000 years to the Advent.  But let’s not forget the future, the hope to which this Biggest Loser is looking forward:

Then the angel showed me the river of the water of life, as clear as crystal, flowing from the throne of God… On each side of the river stood the tree of life… And the leaves of the tree are for the healing of the nations.

No longer will there be any curse. The throne of God and of the Lamb will be in the city, and his servants will serve him. They will see his face, and his name will be on their foreheads… And they will reign for ever and ever.

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End. Blessed are those who wash their robes, that they may have the right to the tree of life and may go through the gates into the city… "

The Spirit and the bride say, "Come!"

And let him who hears say, "Come!"

Whoever is thirsty, let him come; and whoever wishes, let him take the free gift of the water of life.

Verses Supporting the Trinity in the Bible

Gen 1:26, “Then God Said, ‘Let us make man in our image, in our likeness…”

So who is the “us” this verse refers to?  My friend Jay explained to me the three common positions:

  1. It’s a reference to the Trinity
  2. It’s a literary technique showing glory through what’s known as a “majestic plural” (yeah, news to me too)
  3. God is speaking in front of a celestial audience.  Therefore, the “us” refers to man being created in the image of God and other spiritual beings.

I prefer the first explanation.

Then the next day I heard Hank Hanegraaff talking about the Trinity on his Bible Answer Man radio show.  A caller was arguing with him about whether the concept of the Trinity was really in the Bible.  Hank gave the following mnemonics for some supporting verses.  I didn’t find his mnemonics that easy to remember, but had fun looking up all these verses:

The Father is God

Several verses with 1:3 references:

1 Corinthians 1:3, “Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ.”

Ephesians 1:3, “Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in the heavenly realms with every spiritual blessing…”

1 Peter 1:3, “Praise to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ!  In his great mercy he has given us new birth into a living hope through the resurrection of Jesus Christ from the dead…”

The Holy Spirit is God

The acrostic ACTS:

A

Acts 5:3-4, “Then Peter said, "Ananias, how is it that Satan has so filled your heart that you have lied to the Holy Spirit and have kept for yourself some of the money you received for the land?  Didn’t it belong to you before it was sold? And after it was sold, wasn’t the money at your disposal? What made you think of doing such a thing? You have not lied to men but to God."

C

2 Corinthians 3:16-17, “…whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away.  Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom.”

T

1 Timothy 4:1, “The Spirit clearly says that in later times some will abandon the faith and follow deceiving spirits and things taught by demons.”

S

Supplementary passages such as Psalm 139, “Where can I go from your Spirit?  … If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there…”

Jesus is God

The first chapters of John, Colossians, Hebrews, and Revelation. 

Take the letters: J C H R and think, “Jesus Christ Has Risen!”  I made this mnemonic up.

John 1

“He [Jesus] was in the world, and though the world was made through him, the world did not recognize him…” (vs 10)

“No one has ever seen God, but God the One and Only, who is at the Father’s side, has made him known.” (vs 18)

Verse 18 is interesting because it talks about there being only one God, and yet that God is at that God’s side.  Confusing!

Colossians 1

Jesus is the image of invisible God – Firstborn of all creation – By Jesus all things were created in heaven and on earth – Jesus is before all things, and in him all things hold together – God was pleased to have all his fullness dwell in Jesus (vs 15-20)

Hebrews 1

“… but in these last days he has spoken to us by his Son, whom he appointed heir of all things, and through whom he made the universe. The Son is the radiance of God’s glory and the exact representation of his being, sustaining all things by his powerful word.” (vs 2-3)

Revelation 1

“I am the Alpha and the Omega,” says the Lord God, “who is, and who was, and who is to come, the Almighty.” (vs 8 )

“Then he [Jesus] placed his right hand on me and said, ‘Do not be afraid. I am the First and the Last. I am the Living One; I was dead, and behold I am alive for ever and ever!  And I hold the keys of death and Hades.’” (vs 17-18)

These two verses prove Jesus is God by substitution: 

  1. The Lord God Almighty = Alpha and Omega
  2. Jesus Christ = Alpha and Omega
  3. Therefore: Lord God Almighty = Jesus Christ

wow, can’t believe I’m using something from my logic class in college.

But wait, there’s more! 

Father, Son, and Holy Spirit in the Same Verse

All three persons of the Trinity are referred to in the following verses, which you can remember by the mnemonic: ABC

(A)nnunciation

Luke 1:35, “The angel answered, ‘The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you. So the holy one to be born will be called the Son of God.’”

(B)aptism

Luke 3:22, “…and the Holy Spirit descended on him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven: ‘You are my Son, whom I love; with you I am well pleased.’”

(C)ommision

Matthew 28:19-20, “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you."

And lastly, a verse alluding to the Trinity concept from the Old Testament:

Isaiah 9:6, “For to us a child is born,
to us a son is given,
and the government will be on his shoulders.
And he will be called
Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God,
Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.”

What Legacy Will We Leave?

Recently I overheard a man on the phone talking to a funeral home.  The conversation went something like this:

"My sister died Friday.  No, we weren’t very close. Yeah… it’s a strange story, haven’t seen her in years.  We’re estranged.  Sure.  Now, you need to understand our family is very small so I want to go cheap-cheap, as cheap as possible.  What?  Yes, but they have no money and neither does her Ex.  Uh-huh.  Direct cremation?  I see…  Ok, I’ll think about that and get back with you, I want to go the cheapest route.  Realize though that if we have a memorial there won’t be hardly anyone there."

Somewhat shocking.  We think we’ll live forever.  We won’t.  Someday this body will fail.  What legacy will we leave behind?  Will we be like this woman and leave broken relationships?  Estranged siblings?  A string of failed marriages and layers of hard feelings? 

Or will we leave behind living, glowing pieces of ourselves in the lives of others?  Will people remember us for being:

  • Caring… or Preoccupied?
  • Joyful… or Cranky?
  • Positive… or Cynical?
  • Hospitable… or Closed?
  • Those who listened… or those who talked?
  • Those who shared… or those who hoarded?
  • Interested in others… or interested in our self?

Recently, I spent an evening with my Grandpa at the hospital.  He is recovering well from an illness and should be home soon, but he wanted to remind me about the brevity of life.  To Grandpa, it feels like he was young just days ago; and I know someday when I’m his age time will have seemed to pass in a blink.

Inspirationally, my Grandpa has a legacy of investing his life in others, of being generous and warm-hearted.  Because of the profession he chose (preaching, particularly helping launch small churches), he is not a rich man financially.  But my Grandpa is a rich man in relationships.  I, for one, admire him tremendously.

The Dangerous and Beautiful God

Jay is a friend of mine.  He gave a message recently verbalizing a vision of the might and majesty of the God of the Bible and to help us understand better his awesomeness, his mightiness, his beauty, and his fierceness.  It’s really worth hearing, listen to it here.

If nothing else, listen to the first part where Jay draws a fascinating parallel between Timothy Treadwell, a man who didn’t have a healthy enough respect for grizzly bears, and us, who often don’t have a healthy enough respect for God.

Later in the message Jay talks about Jesus in a light we don’t commonly hear… and Jay proposes we take His words seriously, a concept I too am keen on:

Jesus said the institutions of culture we all commonly pursue in our daily lives as a matter of common sense – that we’re told, "This is just the way things are, and these are the things you should pursue: monetary stability, power, prestige, success in the workplace, climbing the corporate ladder, all these things," Jesus said they’re dead ends and He calls us to center ourselves and our life and all our choices in a realm of existence we can’t even see!

Isn’t that what being a Christian is all about? “Centering ourselves and our life and all our choices in a realm of existence we can’t even see”?

Sometimes we need to take a step back and ponder this Dangerous and Beautiful God whom we serve.  Jay helps us do so.

[audio:http://simplefollower.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/Jay_M_November_21st_2010.mp4] Download Mp4 Here (35 mb)

Sharing Christmas Cheer (i.e. some recent articles)

Sparring With a Bell Ringer  Every day Will Miller tells a story from his life.  This post describes a run in he had with a bell ringer at the mall.  William is quick on his feet, quicker than I.  He explores the question, "Should we be giving out of guilt?" 

1 Simple Strategy to Save $2,000 This Holiday and Make Everyone Love You Forever  This in-your-face article is typical style for minimalist Everett Bogue.  Get ready to be offended.  He’s going to tell you we’re all materialistic pigs catering to the manipulations of greedy business and sappy sentimentalism.  Bah, humbug.  Fun read though.  I enjoy keeping up with his blog.

How Does Santa Do It All In One Night?  Ever wondered?  Wonder no more, this Saint Nick website does the math.  For geeks only.

How to Make a Big Difference in This World

I’m going to start with a random question: What makes a story newsworthy?  What type of events do the press pick up on?  Here’s my answer:

1) Stories that affect one or a few people a lot – Headline Examples:
    "Hiker falls in volcano"
    "Miners trapped after explosion"
2) Stories that affect many people significantly – Headline Examples:
    "Tsunami leaves millions homeless"
     "Haiti Earthquake creates humanitarian crisis"
3) Stories that affect a lot of people a little – Headline Examples:
    "Road construction causes delays"
    "State approves sales tax increase"

Too, the weird, bizarre news (or scandalous, salacious news) is also interesting because it fits into one of the categories above (usually #1).  For example, "Two-Headed Man Can’t Sneeze From Both Mouths at Once, Scientists Say," is fascinating because it affects one man peculiarly.

So, how does all this tie in with making a big difference in the world?  Because: analogously, the same logic applies.  To make a big impact we must either make a little impact on a lot of people (start a blog) or a huge impact on one person (raise a kid). 

Seriously, as Christians, this affects how we do ministry.  Are we going to have a transient impact on everyone, or deeply invest in several?  What did Jesus do?  He did both.  Many of the stories of his life describe brief encounters: a woman at a well, a man who came by night, a blind man healed.  Jesus always had time for them.  Yet Christ also invested deeply in several strategic men.  They did everything together, shared life.

As Followers of Jesus, I suggest we follow His model of diversifying. 

And in the process of following His model of ministry, we shouldn’t forget the outwork of His ministry: sending.  Jesus was always sending, even those he had the briefest contact with.  Consider the possessed man named “Legion,” because he was many:

As Jesus was getting into the boat, the man who had been demon-possessed begged to go with him.  Jesus did not let him, but said, "Go home to your family and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and how he has had mercy on you."  So the man went away and began to tell in the Decapolis how much Jesus had done for him. And all the people were amazed. (Mark 5:18-20)

Jesus also sent those He invested in most, the twelve:

He appointed twelve–designating them apostles –that they might be with him and that he might send them out to preach. (Mar 3:14)

After his Resurrection, Jesus commissioned these same 12 as International Harvesters:

Therefore go and make disciples of all nations… (Matthew 28:19)

As mentors, it’s easy to let relationships stagnate.  As mentorees, we oft grow comfortable soaking instead of applying.  There comes a point though when it’s time to cut the ties and send those we’re discipling, or, in the reverse case, send ourselves. 

Another application is with parenting.  Sometimes parents hang on to their kids when they should send them:

Like arrows in the hands of a warrior are sons born in one’s youth. (Psalms 127:4)

Arrows are meant to be shot.  At a target.  I’ve owned nice arrows before and they were fun to sit around and admire.  But the purpose of the arrows was not to admire them, but to string them in a bow, draw it back taut (I’m comparing this to Jesus spending three years with his disciples or parents raising their children) and then release that arrow on a target.

To sum things up, we will make a big difference in the world when we are willing to make a big investment in people.  We will, however, only gain a pure desire to serve as we draw close to God and are Spirit led. Because investing deeply in people whom we entertain no thought of return from is contrary to every fiber of our being.

Can I Recommend Irresistible Revolution?

The book, Irresistible Revolution: Living as an Ordinary Radical by Shane Claiborne challenges nearly every aspect of American "churchianity."

The revolution Shane describes is nothing less than a call to follow Jesus literally in the way He lived and taught. Shane’s interpretation of what it means to be a Christian looks far different than we (normal folk) know it. He is one of the founders of The Simple Way community in Philadelphia. I may need to go visit this community someday. 

Shane is a young man, zealous, idealistic, and 100% activist. While reading his book, sometimes I wanted to yell "Amen" while other times I groaned as he took extreme positions for what I perceived to be shock value.

If you’re leaning toward a more literalistic view of following Jesus, reading this book will:

  1. Probably reinforce those tendencies and
  2. Probably challenge preconceptions you may not have yet struggled through

Irresistible Revolution has been on my shelf for a year; I’ve put off reading it that long. I thought Shane was on the weird side. After reading it, I’m glad I finally did, though my suspicions were confirmed… Turns out he’s a good egg though, I do like him! I’m sure Noah, Isaiah, and John the Baptist were all considered weird too.

His personal journey and questioning were what I found most interesting. Many times I thought, "Wow, I can’t believe someone else asked this question, or wrestled with that issue, or been annoyed by those attitudes." If I’d read it several years ago I wouldn’t have identified near as closely, so it’s good I waited.

Having said that, I do hesitate to recommend Irresistible Revolution as there are plenty of things I don’t agree with.

The most serious issue I had with this book was not even with what was written, but what was not written. There is barely any talk about our sinful state or our need for a Savior… this I found exceptionally sad. Shane never talks about his own neediness. I understand from personal experience it’s easy to fall prey getting carried away following Jesus to the exclusion of knowing Jesus.

Additionally, very little was written explaining how we’re to integrate this "radical" stuff into the local church and our normal, everyday lives with jobs (the point of this blog, by the way). All of us living homeless, mooching off others’ hospitality (or squatting in gutted buildings in downtown Philadelphia) is not a practical extrapolation for all Christendom to follow.

Over and over again Shane points out Jesus was a homeless man, implying we should be too. But Jesus only lived that way for a season of His life. We’re all called to die to ourselves (that’s clear) but we’re not all called to be homeless (that’s silly).

Pros

  • Shane stirs the pot, pointing out glaring inconsistencies in the American Church
  • He challenged my thinking on what it means to be a Follower of Jesus – Shane thinks far outside the box
  • It’s chock full of captivating stories, regardless if you agree with their point – Irresistible Revolution is perhaps worth reading for the anecdotes alone
  • The reader gets to live vicariously through Shane’s Christian journey, challenging everything mainstream
  • Meet up with diverse personas including Rich Mullins and Mother Teresa
  • Get carried along to such varied locales as the Deep South, volatile Iraq, and the Inner Cities of U.S. and India
  • Be entertained by Shane’s quick wit as he pokes fun at everything (including the sacred)
  • Jump into your imagination and dream big… ‘cus Shane dreams big!
  • Get hit between the eyes, there are loads of quotable gems
  • Plus, it’s an easy read

Cons

Before I get to the cons, let me say I love Shane’s zeal. Sure, I don’t agree with everything he says, but I have to hand it to the guy: he’s doing something, he’s thinking, he’s pushing the envelope. He’s an example of the attitude we should all have of seeking God with our whole hearts, minds, and souls: of moving beyond mediocrity. Shane is genuine and lives what he preaches.  Ok, now the cons…

  • Making disciples was never brought up that I remember. How could that get left from a book like this, a manifesto on how Christians ought to live? I understand love is the main thing, but love tells others the gospel: the truth regarding their spiritually sick condition and need for a doctor. I was disappointed by this omission.
  • Shane throws out the baby with the bathwater, in my opinion. Judgmental of American Christians to the point of scathing (at times)… He confuses "poverty" with spiritual.
  • I felt exegesis of Scripture was on the sloppy side. Of course we need to wrestle through the Bible and Jesus’ words for ourselves anyways, but I felt Shane, in the process of keeping the book readable, did so at the expense of not treating Scripture carefully.
  • Homelessness and poverty are Shane’s hot buttons. Important hot buttons sure, but God is into all people, not just subsets. I was frustrated that homeless people were made into saints.
  • Many of the ideas, particularly in the second half of the book, were "half-baked." I wish Shane would have split Irresistible Revolution into two or three shorter, more polished books. He had the beginnings of many good ideas and models, but most – in the second half particularly – were still in the formative stages. I know it’s easy to play arm-chair critic, but I do think he has good ideas and look forward to reading future books by him.
  • Occasionally Shane’s sarcasm borders irreverence
  • Shane is pacifist to a fault, be prepared. He blasts the war in Iraq, President Bush, et al. Nonetheless, he does make thought provoking points regarding war. No, I’m not a pacifist.
  • At times, the book sounded like a Liberal left-wing political playbook. I know God cares about things like the environment but it got frustrating as he kept throwing more and more issues into this one book.
  • It can be difficult splitting the true Christian element from the Hippy element. Not to be too harsh, but is God calling me to live out of my van down by the river, grow plants in broken out computer screens, all while wearing homemade clothing that looks pretty silly? Nothing wrong with all that, but it’s not Biblically prescriptive for sure. Neither is driving a diesel bus around that’s been converted to run on used veggie oil.
  • Some places it feels Shane is wading into waters over his head. I think it’s good advice to, "not knock down fences before we know why they were put up.” For instance, regarding Economics, Shane knocks down the fence of capitalism without – I felt – understanding why it was put up in the first place or providing a satisfactory replacement model.

Conclusion

All in all, a good read, challenging, witty, inspirational. His zeal is contagious. His stories are touching. Chew up the meat, spit out the bones.

The first half is better than the second.  Therefore, my answer to the question posed in the blog title (can I recommend this book?) is, “I recommend the first half.”

Seth Barnes put together a review that included a YouTube video of Shane (and a bunch of quotes from the book), check it out.

Being a Follower of Jesus Means Praying

Picking up from yesterday’s post about what Christian’s can and can’t do, I want to suggest that perhaps the foremost activity which should characterize a Believer’s life is PRAYER:

"As is the business of tailors to make clothes and cobblers to make shoes, so it is the business of Christians to pray."  -Martin Luther

For me, this really hits close to home as I examine the amount of time I spend on my knees before God.

"The little estimate we put on prayer is evidence from the little time we give to it."  -E.M. Bounds

The Bible is clear, prayer should be our way of life.

“Pray without ceasing.” –Paul

When asked how much time he spent in prayer, George Muller’s reply was, "Hours every day. But I live in the spirit of prayer. I pray as I walk and when I lie down and when I arise. And the answers are always coming."

So we’re to pray always, but prayer is also a discipline.

"Don’t pray when you feel like it. Have an appointment with the Lord and keep it. A man is powerful on his knees." -Corrie ten Boom

Of course, since people and relationships are where God’s heart is, ours should be too.  But instead of starting with people, we need to start with God.

"Prayer strikes the winning blow; service is simply picking up the pieces."  -S.D. Gordon

How often do I catch myself making prayer the side dish? The item to be tacked on to the end of an event? Or the beginning of a meal?

"Prayer does not fit us for the greater work; prayer is the greater work."  -Oswald Chambers.

This is how we are to pray, according to Jesus:

"Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
your kingdom come,
your will be done
on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us today our daily bread.
Forgive us our debts,
as we also have forgiven our debtors.
And lead us not into temptation,
but deliver us from the evil one.”

Christians Can’t DO Anything? Wrong!

Was talking with an older man recently who was bemoaning the fact there is nothing for Christians to do. "It’s a problem now, it was a problem when I was a kid, it’s always been a problem. If you can’t watch movies, can’t dance, can’t do anything bad, what can you do?" There was a hint of tongue-in-cheek in his tone, but candor as well. He added that at least we have board games to save us from boredom.  No pun intended.

I see this as a common theme among Christian circles. I call it, “The No Syndrome.” No, we can’t listen to this or watch that; and shouldn’t lie, cheat, or steal; nor cuss, smoke, or drink; nor chew, yell, or go to the show; nor get mad, visit the bad part of town, associate with non-believers or even eat too many sweets. Sometimes Christians scratch their heads wondering, “What was it again we CAN do?”

Seems like the local church often comes up short on vision here… Because there is so much we can do!! And no, it’s not sitting in a white room eating vegetables trying not to think bad thoughts.  The work we get to do is among the most exciting a human ever has the opportunity to participate in: being apart of Christ’s Kingdom on earth.

We never need to stoop to worldliness (which we all know) but we also never need to stoop to copycatting worldliness (the tactic mainstream American Christianity has unfortunately swallowed, hook, line, and sinker).

Regarding this whole issue, I recently heard a Christian man use an analogy from sports. He said, "We need both a good defense and a strong offense." His point was we can at times be all defense (fighting the world, flesh, and the devil in our lives) with no offense (fighting the world, flesh, and the devil in our culture).  Not that bending to an extreme in offense is the answer either: balance is key.

This sports analogy begs the question, “What does an offense look like?” As I observe those who appear to be playing offense, I see among the more radical people a tendency to get carried away fighting injustices to the exclusion of making disciples (Shane Claiborne comes to mind, I’m planning to review his book Friday). Seems to me when we help people physically without sharing the gospel we’re merely making them comfortable on their way to hell, where they’ll get plenty uncomfortable again.

Others lean towards gospel work (tract distribution) as the answer. Surely this is the perfect activity for our youth? And not to say street evangelism isn’t valuable and has its place, but it’s also the type of seed the devil frequently snatches away because they don’t understand (Matthew 13:19).  This is especially true with Internationals. I hate being pessimistic, but am speaking from my own experience.

Others think offense means starting programs, recruiting people into programs, and propping up programs. Programs are wonderful so long as everyone realizes they’re the structure for relationships. Programs are the bones; relationships are the meat. They both need heart (love).

So if it’s not all about fighting injustice, handing out tracts, or plugging bodies into programs (as important as all these are), “Where then should we start?”

After much thought, here’s my suggestion… well, maybe I’ll save it for my next post!

Texting Beyond our Limits

Imagine it’s Saturday, 2,000 years ago.  Jesus is sitting in the synagogue.  His cell phone is laying out on the pew beside him, flipped open.  He is following along with the Rabbi, but frequently glancing down at the phone, checking incoming messages.  Multi-tasking is no bigee for Him. 

A coalition of blind beggars are texting Jesus regarding their plight.  Martha is frantically texting him to hurry come heal Lazarus who’s on the verge of death.  Peter wants to know if they really have to stay for the whole message.  Mary, his mother, wants to know what He would like for lunch.  A lonely suicidal friend just wants to chat. 

This picture is ludicrous because Jesus never operated that way.  Jesus ministered only to those within his sphere of physical proximity. 

I realize the technology of Jesus’ time precluded anything different.  Face-to-face contact was his only option, but that didn’t hinder His ministry or prevent Him from turning the world upside down.  All without cell phone, e-mail or the internet.  This capability we have to remotely stay in touch is perhaps stretching us further emotionally than we were designed to be stretched. 

Hold on, I’m not saying everyone who wants to be a true follower of Jesus should throw their phone out the window or that text messaging is evil.  Far from it.  Nevertheless, it’s interesting to me that us humans have, in the name of progress, devised systems which destroy community (like insulated suburban neighborhoods, houses so private fortress would be a better term, productivity to the extreme we don’t have time to breathe, and of course the never ending advertisements to guarantee we’lll never exit the treadmill rat race) then, on the flip side, also devised systems, in the name of progress, that fill the voids with artificial community like Cell Phones, Facebook, IM, and Text messaging.

In recent years, our amazing technology has removed all obstacles of physical proximity.  We are no longer limited by space.  I have tele-meetings at work with guys from Canada and France.  We all login and see the same computer screen.  In our daily lives, this gadgetry opens incredible opportunities, but also takes a high toll because we are finite creatures.  I was talking with a friend recently about how we keep running into this whole 24 hour thing.  Technology oft gives us more opportunities than we can handle.

Communication isn’t the only technology that removes physical limits.  Think about transportation for a minute:  This past Tuesday after work I spent an hour and a half reading a book at my apartment, then an hour and a half at one of my Indian friend’s apartments visiting and doing laundry together, then an hour and a half at my parents eating supper and catching up, then an hour and a half at another friends house hanging out and helping him get ready for a fire demonstration he was giving the next day at school (don’t ask).  These locations were miles apart.  If I tried to go all those places walking I’d still be walking.

With transportation comes options.  Options make us feel we should take them.  Taking them stretches us thin.  Again, not bad, just the reality of our society. 

Conscientious people get hit particularly hard by all these relational options.  They end up trying to be three (or ten) places at once, and end up being no-where well.  The person texting them is in a crisis so it makes sense to give them priority.  But the distance barrier inhibits a fully compassionate response (like maybe a hug or tender expression).  In the meantime, those they’re actually with may need a hug too, or a listening ear, but instead get a split mess, the dregs, a physical body and preoccupied mind.

In some cases we need to be some place physically (with family, at work) but feel like we’re needed elsewhere mentally.  Technology allows us to do so, but at a cost.  Getting caught in the cross-fire is difficult.  There are no easy answers. 

My advice to myself is to consider living in the here and now, like Jesus did.  No matter which way I cut the pie, even in the best scenario I’m only giving pieces of myself to others.  I am a finite creature!  So perhaps it’s best to at least give full pieces.  Maybe those I’m with physically deserve the full piece of me for those moments, within reason. 

Hypocritically, I write this at a Laundromat where there are others around me.  To my credit, I did discuss this whole “technology stretching us too thin” deal with the lady I’m sitting next to waiting for our clothes to finish.  She’s been on her iPhone texting most the time.  Her take on things was we’re better off now than the old days when we had to interact face-to-face only.  She said now that relationships are digital, it’s easier to say “no.”   She thought of one friend in particular though who really struggles with all the relational options.  She said her friend is not strong enough to say “no” and so tries keeping up with everyone.  Consequently, her friend is seriously stressed out.  Wisdom from a Laundromat stranger.

When is Texting Rude?

Two relevant facts:

    1) My actions always speak louder than my words
    2) What I spend time on communicates what I find important

Regarding text messaging, here are 10 observations:

  1. Nearly everyone texts, including my Grandpa (there are around 5 billion cell phone subscriptions out of 6.8 billion humans and more than 2/3 have a text messaging service)
  2. Texting is amoral and not rude in and of itself
  3. Texting works great for conveying information
  4. I personally text quite a bit
  5. Texting can be used as a neat tool to encourage others
  6. Texters probably don’t mean to be rude but sometimes are (including myself)
  7. In certain contexts, texting can be very rude and even hurt peoples’ feelings
  8. Therefore, for conscientious folk, it’s important to think through this issue
  9. Whenever I text, I am communicating by my actions that texting  is – for the brief moments I’m engaged in that activity – more important than anything or anyone else (see fact 2 above)
  10. Jesus never sent a single text message (nor did any human before 1992).  Therefore, instantaneous telepathic communication must not be that important.

Breaking it down, I see two types of texting:

  1. Texting for information (mentally engaged)
  2. Texting for conversation (emotionally engaged)

It’s easier for people to forgive us ignoring them when we’re texting for information.

Regarding the second category though, ever been in a group where everyone was conversing except one loner who’s texting?  I’ll admit, I’ve been that one loner before.  You know, the guy who looks up every now and then to convey the impression he’s still engaged?  The sad thing is I’m only really engaged the few times I throw in my two cents to the group, then I put the phone down.  But as soon as someone else starts talking I look back down to my phone.  I’m multi-tasking people.

What does this communicate to others in the group? They do notice.  My actions are telling them I don’t care what they think or say, even though that’s not true.

The moral of this post is to warn myself (and in turn, perhaps others) to realize my actions convey messages. 

Just because my mouth isn’t saying anything doesn’t mean I’m not saying anything.  In fact, I might be saying something I would never utter audibly.

frog_sadWhen I text around others, my actions shout loud and clear, "I’m with you physically because I have to be, but I’m with them mentally because I want to be." 

It’s crazy, I may die a thousand deaths before verbalizing something like that in real life (knowing it would be hurtful), but not hesitate in the least to say it over and over again through my actions.  And peoples’ feelings are often hurt.  By me.

Here are problematic facts:

  1. When texting, I’m not fully engaged with the people in my presence

  2. When texting, I’m communicating to people in my presence they’re temporarily not as important as the invisible ones I’m texting with (this is true by definition. people around me may be understanding, cut slack, not get upset, realize the texts are “necessary,” but that doesn’t change the fact I’m still communicating this message)

  3. When texting, I’m (probably) distracting others and raising curiosity about who I’m texting with and what I’m texting about

  4. When texting, if I don’t bring those in my presence into the loop, my actions (probably) are communicating distrust and secrecy

All this begs the question, how should I change? 

  • Text when alone. I can’t be rude then (I don’t think…?)  

  • Ignore texts when with others or excuse myself to a private location.  Kids do this all the time in school:  "I need to go to the bathroom" is code for, "There’s an important text I need to send or read."

  • Let others know who I’m texting with and why, allow them into my life.  I was in a group recently and received a text that read, “Tired?”  I punched back, “No.”  Everyone stopped to look at me when I pulled my phone out.  It got quiet in the room.  In this situation I felt forced to explain myself (usually not the case). So I did. I told everyone, “Hey, I just got this one word text message that read, ‘Tired’ so I sent them a one word message back, ‘No.’”  Everyone laughed and we went on.  By not explaining I would have left people in the dark; they would have been curious (at best) and felt excluded or hurt (at worst).  The great thing about this tack is it strengthens the ties of those in our presence.  

  • Re-evaluate who I’m spending time with and why.  Perhaps we need to think again about why we feel such a need to interact with those outside our physical proximity.  This will be the subject of my next post.  Stay tuned!

    So, when is texting rude?  When should I not text? 

    In the state of Kansas, where I live, restrictions have been placed on texting while driving.  Why?  Because it could result in physical injury to others.  Etiquette-wise, perhaps I should come down on the same side of the fence: refraining from texting when it could result in emotional injury to others.  Of course, that’s a value judgment…

    Silly?  Too harsh?  What do you think? I’m just realizing when I text, signals are being received closer than the tower.

    For a more secular rule of thumb on when texting is appropriate, check out The Bathroom Rule.

  • Living and Dying

    "He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain that which he cannot lose." Jim Elliot (1927-1956)

    missionaries

    What are we living for?  Is it also worth dying for?  Because if we’re not living for something worth dying for, we’re not living, and we’re not ready for dying either.

    "Whoever tries to keep his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life will preserve it." (Luke 17:33) 

    Christ Jesus provided the perfect example: He laid down his life as an atonement.  He calls us to lay down our lives too: for His sake, in service to others. And as Jesus rose from the dead to new life, He promises we too will save our lives in the long term by losing it in the short term:

    "For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it. What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, and yet lose or forfeit his very self?"  (Luke 9:24)  No good.  Zero.  But I ask myself, "Are these teachings sinking into my life?" 

    James warns, "Do not merely listen to the word, and so deceive yourselves. Do what it says." (James 1:22)

    Yet God doesn’t require perfection, he requires faith. 

    “It is not that Christianity has never been tried and found wanting; rather, Christianity has been found difficult and never been tried.” G. K. Chesterton

    This talk of living and dying brings up the topic of safety. Jay talked in his message this morning about how much of Christianity is marketed in terms of safe these days: Safe music, safe books, safe alternatives to worldliness. Jay pointed out we may even tend to think of God as being safe. God is not safe. He is good though. Christianity aside, as a nation we’re also preoccupied with safety: safe food, safe suburbs, safe playgrounds, etc. This quote gives a different perspective:

    First, what do we define as “dangerous”? From our largely white, middle-class, suburban culture we think first of the drive-by gang shootings and other violent crimes which appear on the evening news.

    But what about the dangers that are rampant in the suburbs that people rarely think about. Dangers to the soul and to the family such as out of control materialism, the worship of comfort and narcissism, the individualism that is so prevalent that many people are dying of loneliness and depression, and the rapid, busy pace of life that robs virtually everyone of peace and rest and real relationships? Are these not genuine dangers?? (ref)

    Begs the question, “Which is more important: fostering the formation of spiritual life or frantically attempting to preserve the decaying physical life?” 100% of living beings die anyway, regardless of how well insulated from the dangers of this world.

    Jesus put it another way,

    “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather, be afraid of the One who can destroy both soul and body in hell.”

    Rethinking the Standard Testimony

    Ever learned a new vocabulary word and then right afterwards heard it used three times in unrelated contexts?  Seems to happen all the time.

    Another example: my brother moved to Oregon and now it seems everywhere I turn there’s an Oregon connection.  Works out practically everyone’s brother lives in Oregon.  Who’d have thunk?  Even today I stumbled upon an Oregon reference:  I needed the phone number to my doctor’s office but the first google result was a doctor by the same name in Oregon.  Of course.

    Something like this recently happened as I mulled over a thought gleaned from Revolution in World Missions by K.P. Yohannan.  Which, by the way, I highly recommend as an insightful look at foreign missions from an outsiders perspective.  Particularly the last chapter.  Yohannan doesn’t hold back any punches.  But his book is free so we can’t complain.  Plus, near as I can tell he lives what he preaches.

    I’ll review this book later, but here’s the quote I’m referring to:

    The typical media testimony goes something like this: ‘I was sick and broke, a total failure. Then I met Jesus. Now everything is fine; my business is booming, and I am a great success.’

    It sounds wonderful. Be a Christian and get that bigger house and a boat and vacation in the Holy Land.

    But if that were really God’s way, it would put some believers living in anti-Christian and in the Two-Thirds World in a pretty bad light. Their testimonies often go something like this:

    “I was happy. I had everything-prestige, recognition, a good job, and a happy wife and children. Then I gave my life to Jesus Christ. Now I am in Siberia, having lost my family, wealth, reputation, job and health.  Here I live, lonely, deserted by friends. I cannot see the face of my wife and dear children. My crime is that I love Jesus.”

    What about the heroes of the faith down through the ages? The apostles laid down their lives for the Lord. Christian martyrs have written their names on every page of history.

    In the former Soviet Union, Ivan Moiseyev was tortured and killed within two years of meeting Jesus. In China, Watchman Nee spent 20 years in prison and finally died in bondage.

    When Sadhu Sundar Singh [Hey! I mentioned this guy last April, he wrote the song “I Have Decided”], born and raised in a rich Sikh’s home in Punjab, became a Christian, his own family tried to poison him and banished him from their home. He lost his inheritance and walked away with one piece of clothing on his body. Yet, following his Master, he made millions truly rich through faith in Christ.

    Sure I’ve thought about all this before, but for some reason it resonated in a new way.  Then, a few days later I’m reading a book by Shane Claiborne (which was not free but should have been) and he made a very similar observation:

    I know there are people who there who say, ‘My life was such a mess.  I was drinking, partying, sleeping around… and then I met Jesus and my whole life came together.’ God bless those people. But me, I had it together. I used to be cool. And then I met Jesus and he wrecked my life.  The more I read the gospel, the more it messed me up, turning everything I believed in, valued, and hoped for upside-down. I am still recovering from my conversion.

    So I thought it strange I got the same thought twice in a row from polar opposite writers. 

    Here’s a few things Jesus said:

    Woe to you when all men speak well of you, for that is how their fathers treated the false prophets.” (Luke 6:26)

    "I tell you the truth," Jesus replied, "no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age (homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields–and with them, persecutions) and in the age to come, eternal life.” (Mark 10:29-30)

    Paul weighed in too:

    “You, however, know all about my teaching, my way of life, my purpose, faith, patience, love, endurance, persecutions, sufferings–what kinds of things happened to me in Antioch, Iconium and Lystra, the persecutions I endured.” (2 Timothy 3:10)

    “Therefore, among God’s churches we boast about your perseverance and faith in all the persecutions and trials you are enduring.” (2 Thess 1:5)

    Of course Peter had advice:

    “Dear friends, do not be surprised at the painful trial you are suffering, as though something strange were happening to you.  But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” (1 Pet 4)

    Then John wraps up with a succinct, Do not be surprised, my brothers, if the world hates you.” (John 3:13)  Thanks John.  I’ll remember that.

    I realize this blog is turning into all challenge and no encouragement.  Sorry!  I’ll try writing things more encouraging.

    This Is What I Get Excited About

    In short: Incarnational Ministry Among the Poor

    I first read this article about a month ago.  I got excited reading it!  It discusses Incarnational Ministry from a practical perspective. Though lengthy – and at least one of my friends found boring – it does lay down a thought out framework.

    The author discusses Incarnational Ministry as a Model, a Method, a Message, and a Spiritual Discipline.

    Ok, that was the post.  What follows next are rambling thoughts of mine sparked by the above article…
    Nick’s Thoughts on Incarnational MissionsPDF Format

    The Way I See Things

    Here is a little known fact about me: I have an eye disorder called strabismus.

    The Symptoms Include:

  • Crossed eyes
  • Double vision
  • Loss of ability to see in 3-D (loss of depth perception)
  • For grins, I photo-shopped the picture below to how I would see it:

    car

    Yep, that’s how I walk around seeing things all day every day.  Though it’s not quite that bad ‘cus I can “move” the double vision line over to the side.

    Since I’ve lived with strabismus from birth and never known differently it doesn’t bother me in the least.  All in all, I feel very blessed to have as good of vision as I do: 20/20 in both eyes (corrected).

    Now here’s another fact about me, this one more well known:  I have a heart disorder called “sin.” 

    Jesus diagnosed the symptoms in Matthew 15:19:

    “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, slander.”

    As humans, we’re really messed up as a result of sin, aren’t we?  It makes our bodies fall apart.  We’re (or at least I am) rebellious, selfish, and obnoxious by nature.  It’s depressing. 

    Nevertheless, God has a plan of redemption.  It was good in the beginning, and it will be good in the end.  I can’t wait until heaven when both my body and soul will be made perfect.

    Despite our problems due to sin, let’s join the Psalmist in praising God for the amazing gift of life and creation he has given:

    You have searched me, LORD,
       and you know me.
    For you created my inmost being;
       you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
    I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
       your works are wonderful,
       I know that full well.
    My frame was not hidden from you
       when I was made in the secret place,
       when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
    Your eyes saw my unformed body;
       all the days ordained for me were written in your book
       before one of them came to be.
    How precious to me are your thoughts, God!
       How vast is the sum of them!
    Were I to count them,
       they would outnumber the grains of sand—
       when I awake, I am still with you.

                  ~Psalm 139

    Saving Hundreds of Dollars

    There are two ways I know to increase the amount of money I have lying around:
    Pile o' Cash
    1) Make more
    2) Spend less

    I’ve been experimenting with option two.  It could be argued this has lowered my quality of living, but I would disagree.  Regardless, cutting back on recurring expenses has yielded surprising savings for me; my monthly outgoing today is significantly less than it was a year ago.  Here’s what I did:

    1) Moved into a cheaper apartment.  My satisfaction at the new apartment is comparable if not higher than my satisfaction at the old.  I did give up some luxuries: a 1-car garage, soundproof walls, a low crime area, and convenient parking.  However, I gained better access to work and the highway, more open and friendly neighbors, and a little more excitement.

    Old Apartment: $710
    New Apartment: $415
    Savings per Month: $295

    2) Changed to a less expensive cell phone plan.  I moved from T-Mobile to Cricket.  My new plan has unlimited talk and text nationwide.  The catches are that my coverage is less comprehensive and I have no voice mail or call waiting.  At first I wondered if these would be a big deal, but they haven’t been an issue. 

    As far as coverage, it’s really quite good and I even had signal in the back boonies of Oklahoma where I went camping several weekends ago.  Regarding call waiting, if anyone gets a busy signal they can text instead as I do receive texts while talking.  And regarding voicemail, my phone is always on so that’s no bigee either.

    Old Cell Phone Monthly Plan: $70
    New Cell Phone Monthly Plan: $42
    Savings per Month: $28

    3) Sold my boat. (see previous post) My 22′ sailboat required maintenance, time, and money.  I love sailing, but this boat was more than I could handle alone.  Liquidating the boat was liberating and netted $2,000. (see ad)

    Monthly Storage Savings: $30
    Monthly Insurance Savings: $10

    These three changes alone are saving me $363 per month! That’s a lot of money: Equivalent to 150 meals at Taco Bell, an Asus Netbook, even a nice shotgun… or on a more charitable note, it could buy 726 New Testaments through Gospel for Asia or 18 new sets of clothes for children through Samaritan’s Purse.

    $363 per month works out to over $4,000 per year which Gospel for Asia claims would pay to support 10 full-time indigenous missionaries for a year!

    Even the amount I’m saving on my cell phone alone would sponsor 1 orphan’s basic needs of food, clothing, and education (see here for great info on sponsoring a specific child, or here or here for simple donation options)

    It’s incredible I could save so much by merely trimming a little fat in my life. And there’s much more fat I could trim too, especially in the areas of food and transportation. But where the rubber meets the road is, “How will I spend this extra cash?” To be honest, so far I haven’t done anything… it’s just collecting in the bank.

  • For more on this, check out Jeff Goins article If Someone Gave You $7, How Would You Spend It?
  • Or for more practical info on saving money, check out 15 Ways to Cut Monthly Expenses

  • And Americans Drive Fast Because…?

    On a recent trip down to Oklahoma with my friend Krishnan (who is here in the States short term from India), I noticed how impressed he was at our speed:

    "120 kilometers per hour!  And it doesn’t even feel like we’re moving!"

    He assured me we could never go that fast in India.

    "Why?  Do they not have highways nice and wide like this?"
    "No, they do have good roads these days… at least between major cities like Chennai and Bangalore."
    Rickshaw"Then why can’t you go fast?  Cars there not GO this fast?"  The three wheeled auto-rickshaws I’ve seen pictures of aren’t overly inspiring.
    "No, no, it’s not like that.  The problem is you have to watch out for everyone else on the road!"
    "And who else would be on a major highway, besides cars?"
    "Well, like… people… and bullock carts, stuff like that."

    Cycle-RickshawWow.  But keep in mind automobile penetration is fairly low in India.  Only 13 million cars there between 1 billion people.  In comparison, America has some 240 million cars for a third the population.  Of course, no telling how many motor scooters and auto-rickshaws are in India!

    Now this may be a stretch, but here is my deeper Sugar_cane_bullockapplication:  What do we have in our own lives that’s slowing us down?  As believers, we are called to walk a narrow path.  At the best of times it can seem slow and uphill, but we have this tendency to gather baggage that drags us down to a crawl… even causing us to backslide at times.

    What does this baggage look like?  Here are some suggestions I thought of: Time wasting habits and activities, lack of vision, general apathy, self-deception, commitments to programs vs. relationships, stuff we keep but don’t need, unresolved hurts in our past, bitterness, holding grudges, selfishness, obstinacy, greed, envy, arrogance, folly, self-righteousness, pride and guilt – to name a few!

    “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus…” (Hebrews 12:1)


    Photo Credit: Sugar Cane Bullock / CC BY-SA 2.5
    Photo Credit: Rickshaw / CC BY-SA 2.5
    Photo Credit: Cycle Rickshaw / CC BY-SA 2.0

    Letting Go. Letting God.

    fallControl.  What would happen if I let go?  Removed every crutch?

    What would we call someone who didn’t carry insurance, invest in a 401k, or hold money in a savings account?  Who gave away every dime he made over that necessary for food, clothing, and supporting his family?  Someone who relied on God for everything?  Including his future?  Who let go of his life?  Who fell backward into the arms of God?  Would we call someone like that a fool?  More pertinent: Would God catch him? 

    The disciple Mark records the instance of a woman who not only gave from her extra income, but in fact "put in everything – all she had to live on." (Mark 12:44)  Jesus made the observation that this widow gave more than everyone else… and He did not frown on her decision.

    We sing the song, "I surrender all."  But do we live that?  Or do we live, "I surrender some?"  I’m becoming increasingly convinced the depth of my relationship with God is in direct proportion to the amount I trust him with my life: “For without faith it is impossible to please God.”  (Hebrews 11:6)

    Accosted at QuickTrip

    Was running late to work the other morning. Empty on gasoline. Stopped at QuickTrip. Filled the Jeep. Was ready to leave when a guy comes over to my car. Had a story: Low on gas, wife wouldn’t give him any money, etc. Could he have $10?

    This has happened before, but it’s been awhile so caught me off guard. The first thing that came to mind was this verse, “Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.” (Matthew 5:42) So I gave him what was in my wallet: $6. He thanked me and I drove off.

    This subject of handouts came up recently between Marshal and I in our weekly Bible Study. We know that often when someone approaches us for money they probably intend to spend it supporting some habit. Like drugs or alcohol. Cynical outlook, I admit. But simply giving out money could be harmful and enabling, we reasoned.

    However, Jesus’s basic teaching is clear: “Give to the one who asks.” In discussing alternatives to pure cash distribution, we decided perhaps it would be better to take their story at face value and offer to meet the need they were asking help for. For instance, if they asked for food, offer to get them food. If they asked for gasoline, buy them gasoline. And in the process, spend a few minutes with them, giving our time. Because time is perhaps the most precious thing we can give anybody.

    Marshal and I also decided it would be better – at least from the standpoint of being consistent with the teachings of Jesus – to take a relational alternative when possible. Because people are important. And peoples’ deepest needs are love and acceptance, not just gasoline or a burger.

    So we decided next time someone asked us for money for food we should counter offer to take them to McDonalds or such, buy some chow, and spend time hearing their story. Of course, this would be highly inconvenient.

    Speaking of inconvenient, at QuickTrip yesterday I sorta forgot all this theoretical relational stuff: I was in a hurry and just forked over some dough.

    Which reminds me of something else I read about recently: building margins into our lives. The point was this: if we want to be available to people, we shouldn’t be in such a big rush all the time, scheduling activities back-to-back. We need to leave breathing room for spontenaity.

    If you look at the Good Samaritan in the Bible, he gave up at least one day of his time to help. Are we prepared to do the same, for a complete stranger?

    Are We Too Rich to Enter Heaven?

    overhead

    Ever heard the silly song, "You Can’t Get To Heaven In…"?  We don’t sing this at my church as the theology is suspect:

    Oh, you can’t get to Heaven in an old Ford car
    ‘Cause an old Ford car won’t get that far

    Oh, you can’t get to Heaven on roller skates
    ‘Cause you’d roll right by them Pearly Gates

    Oh, you can’t get to Heaven in a rocking chair
    ‘Cause the Lord don’t want no lazybones there

    And if you get to heaven before I do
    Just drill a hole and pull me through

    But if I get to heaven, before you do
    I’ll plug that hole, with shavings and glue

    We may laugh, but on a serious note, the Bible does give sobering cautions and warnings regarding entrance to heaven.  Particularly in regards to riches and wealth.

    As an affluent American, I find myself troubled by the words of Christ Jesus in the verses listed below.  I believe any serious follower of Him needs to wrestle with these scriptures:

    "Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony." (Luke 16:25) 

    "Woe to you who are rich, for who have already received your comfort."  (Luke 6:24)

    "Any of you who does not give up everything he has cannot be my disciple." (Luke 14:33)

    "You cannot serve both God and money…  What is highly valued among men is detestable in God’s sight."  (Luke 16:13) 

    "I tell you, use worldly wealth to gain friends for yourselves, so that when it is gone, you will be welcomed into eternal dwellings."  (Luke 16:8) 

    "I tell you the truth, no one who has left home or wife or brothers or parents or children for the sake of the kingdom of God will fail to receive many times as much in this age and, in the age to come, eternal life." (Luke 18:29-30)

    "How hard it is for the rich to enter the kingdom of God!"  (Luke 18:23)

    "Do not set your heart on what you will eat or drink; do not worry about it… for your Father has been pleased to give you the kingdom. Sell your possessions and give to the poor. Provide purses for yourselves that will not wear out, a treasure in heaven that will not be exhausted, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." (Luke 12:29-34)

    God’s Waiting to Prove His Love

    pianist One of the cool things about playing an instrument is the unique outlet it provides for worship.  Sometimes I am able to express best the way I feel towards God while playing the piano.  But never fear those who don’t play an instrument because…! singing is another way we can express ourselves:  And everyone can sing!

    Recently I was playing and singing the hymn, Trust and Obey.  The following verse really jumped out at me… because the thought hit home (once again!) that God is waiting to prove his love toward me, I just have to let go and let Him:

         But we never can prove
         The delights of his love 
         Until all on the alter we lay; 
         For the favor He shows, 
         And the joy he bestows, 
         Are for them who will trust and obey. 
    
         Trust and obey, For there’s no other way 
         To be happy in Jesus, but to trust and obey.
           -Trust and Obey, John H. Sammis
    

    10 Ways to Make More Time

    clock A shortage of time has become a problem for me in attempting to maintain all the relationships and responsibilities in my life.  I imagine you face the same problem!  In order to create more space, here are 10 things I’ve tried, more or less successfully:

    1. Watch very few movies and TV shows
          e.g. around ten so far in 2010 (~ once per month)
    2. Cancel internet at my apartment
    3. Eat easy-to-prepare meals
          e.g. Like Taco Bell every day
          e.g. or make meals in advance and freeze them
    4. Become a school teacher to get summers off (among other reasons!)
    5. Cut down on driving time by:
          e.g. Moving closer to work
          e.g. Changing churches to one closeby (many advantages)
          e.g. Staying on the same side of town as family
    6. Eliminate most hobbies (I had too many)
    7. Live in an apartment versus house. Time advantages include:
          e.g. No maintenance
          e.g. No home improvement projects
          e.g. No lawn mowing
    8. Wake up earlier
    9. Consolidate activities
          e.g. Invite people with me out to lunch (Taco Bell)
          e.g. Listen to messages at work
          e.g. Go jogging for entertainment
    10. Reduce standard of living to where I would be OK on a part-time income

    I’m really not as radical as this list might imply. But what other ideas do you have?  What do you find works for making more time?

    Missional Small Groups

    Missional Small Groups by Scott BorenThis past summer I read a book entitled Misisonal Small Groups by Scott Boren.  I would recommend the book to anyone mission-minded as I thought Scott made some excellent observations, particularly in breaking down what he sees as four types of groups. 

    Having been involved in multiple small Christian groups myself – some structured, some unstructured, some in the capacity as a leader, some as a follower – I would say none of them yet have been necessarily missional.  In case you’re not familiar with the buzzword “missional,” Wikipedia has a pretty good definition.

    One theme in Scott’s book is that missional small groups cannot be formularized. You can’t formularize how God is going to work or how he will choose to use his servants to help accomplish his work. However, there are principles… though the principles may not be convenient or popular.

    Scott writes:

    “This book does not provide a program, plan, or method for group success. Instead it points to a way of life together that makes a difference in the world.”

    One recurring theme was being missional is being relational

    Perhaps my favorite quote was his tip on the direction a small group should head when planning ministry:

    “Refuse to simply add some kind of service project or outreach initiative to your group experience and call that missional. As an alternative, take a more relational route. Build relationships with some people who are under resourced and listen to their stories and their needs. Or befriend some people in your neighborhood without any secret motivation to get them to pray a prayer or come to your group. Simply listen to them, share life, and see what God is already doing in their lives.”

    Are Short Term Mission Trips a Waste of Time?

    The answer?  “Depends on the mindset of those going,” according to Noel Becchetti.  He provides an interesting break down of unhelpful attitudes Westerners often bring as they go to minister in other cultures.  Despite the title of his article, keep in mind he actually does promote short term missions.  If you’re considering taking a missions trip, I encourage you to read it:

    Why Most Mission Trips Are a Waste of Time

    Apparently, task-oriented rather than relationship-oriented is what gets Westerners into the most trouble.  Noel writes,

    “One of the most common cultural collisions occurs between linear cultures (like ours) and nonlinear cultures (like Latin). Our culture is task-oriented; Latin culture is people-oriented. Our culture is time-sensitive; Latin culture is situation-sensitive.”

    My assessment is this lack of relational focus gets us Westerners in trouble here at home too.  In light of this, my next several posts are going to have the following theme: Being Missional is Being Relational

    “Relationship with [those you’re visiting] is far more important than money, buildings, and preaching. They will remember you for your love and friendship, not what you did!” (shorttermers.com)

    Another Trial, Anyone?

    James wrote, "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith develops perserverance, and perserverance must finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything."

    Sounds good on paper, but who likes trials in real life? 

    In thinking about what makes a trial a trial, I’ve concluded one common denominator is some form of loss. For instance: loss of health, ability, money, opportunity, dreams, a loved one, possesions, freedom, comfort, identity, reputation, respect, relationships, a job, the list goes on and on.

    Compared to many people, I haven’t had many trials to speak of.  But one that does stick out in my mind is a back problem I had several years ago.  The nerve between my L2/L3 vertebrae became impinged due to a disc herniation.  The losses I faced were comfort and mobility.  In exchange I received pain and irritation.  I also lost value in my own eyes: I didn’t feel worth as much crippled.  Of course my worth never really changed because that’s based on what God thinks of me, not what I or others think of me.  Anyways, the whole situation wasn’t much fun at the time.  And sadly, I clearly remember not having much joy. 

    Whenever we face loss we are again reminded of our fragility, our need for someone or something bigger than ourselves.  Our loss provides an opportunity for God’s strength to be shown in our lives.  It also makes us more mature as we grasp Truth in new ways: experientially. Or, we can become hard and bitter toward God.

    In my situation, one outcome was I thought more about God and spiritual things in general.  And I remember questioning much in my life I’d previously thought was important.  Additionally, I grasped Truth in new ways: particularly my frailty, the importance of taking advantage of opportunities while I still have the chance, and the sufficiency of God.  All in all, it was life changing and I’m glad it happened, in retrospect.  Never thought I’d come to say that!

    This train of thought was all brought to mind by a comment Tim said this past Sunday in his message about the afflictions of Job.  He said, "Job was better off at the end of the story than he was at the beginning." 

    Now it’s true that after the dust settled Job was blessed with twice as much material goods as he had originally, plus another 10 children… but no one would say children are replaceable! 

    If Job was better off in the end (which I do think he was) then perhaps it was intangibly, even though he was also blessed materially.  I would say Job was better off in the sense he had been driven to his knees to seek God with his entire heart and soul and as a result encountered God in a way he never would have otherwise.  Trials, losses, suffering, all have a way of bringing us to these encounters with God.

    Can we say with Paul, "I want to know Christ and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings, becoming like him in his death”? (Philippians 3:10)

    What do you think?

    “We also rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.  And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us.” (Romans 5:3-4)

    What Do Missionaries Do?

    As I’ve been looking into short term mission opportunities, one thought I’ve had is, “How best could I be used to serve and support the full time workers I’ll be visiting?”  This in turn led to the question, “What is it missionaries even do in the first place?”

    Looking at the big picture, it seems the Church has 3 main tasks:

    arrows

    • Upward –> Worshipping God
    • Inward –> Building up fellow believers
    • Outward –> Ministry toward everyone

    All Christians should be involved in each of these areas, but full-time missionaries spend the majority of their time focusing on the “outward” aspect.  So what does this “outward” look like, practically? I think the following list (adapted from CMML) provides a good high-level overview.  As you look through the list, think of how many of these you have already been involved with.

    • Camp Work (Children & Adult Bible Ministry, Halfway Houses)
    • Children’s Homes (Orphanages)
    • Church Planting (Establishing Ongoing Assembly Work, Conferences, Developing Relationships)
    • Correspondence Courses (Developing & Translating Courses, Distribution & Grading)
    • Education (Bible & Vocational Teaching, Language & ESL, Discipleship)
    • Evangelism (Personal, Small Groups, Prison Ministry, Bible Studies, Door to Door)
    • Flight Service (Remote Transport)
    • Medical (Doctor, Nurse, Dentist, Related Support Ministry)
    • Printing / Literature (Preparation, Distribution, Writing)
    • Radio (Broadcasting, Transmission, Programming)
    • Support (Missionary Care, Hospitality, Administration, Logistics)

    Here’s my summary:

      1. They Meet Physical Needs [tippy title=”James 2:16-17″]If one of you says to him, “Go, I wish you well; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about his physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.[/tippy]
      2. They Teach the Gospel ([tippy title=”Acts 18:5″]When Silas and Timothy came from Macedonia, Paul devoted himself exclusively to preaching, testifying to the Jews that Jesus was the Christ.[/tippy], [tippy title=”1 Timothy 4:13″]Until I come, devote yourself to the public reading of Scripture, to preaching and to teaching.[/tippy], [tippy title=”2 Timothy 2:24-25″]And the Lord’s servant must not quarrel; instead, he must be kind to everyone, able to teach, not resentful. Those who oppose him he must gently instruct…[/tippy], [tippy title=”Matthew 28:19-20″]Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” [/tippy]
      3. They Love People ([tippy title=”1 Corinthians 13:3″]If I give all I possess to the poor and surrender my body to the flames, but have not love, I gain nothing.[/tippy], [tippy title=”Ephesians 4:32″]Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.[/tippy])
          • Wherever they are
          • Regardless of their condition
          • With no expectation for return

    At its core, I think missions hinges on relationships. 

    So today’s post was simply designed to get the creative juices flowing.  For different types of short-term missions trips, I found this article helpful.

    What thoughts do you have regarding what missionaries do?

    Think Globally, Act Locally

    The Globe

    The Red Cross has a slogan, “Think Globally, Act Locally.” In other words, keep the big picture in mind while not letting that stop you from doing the work which needs done here in the present.

    It’s been nearly two years since I helped with Red Cross, but I remember being surprised at the beginning by how many disasters happen here locally. That’s because of the definition they use for disaster: any event which disrupts a person or family’s basic physical necessities. Which they define as Food, Shelter, and Clothing.

    Interestingly, those are items even Jesus recognized as needs, “So do not worry, saying, ‘What shall we eat?’ or ‘What shall we drink?’ or ‘What shall we wear?’ For the pagans run after all these things, and your heavenly Father knows that you need them.” (Matt 6:31-32)  And Paul, “But if we have food and clothing, we will be content with that.” (1 Timothy 6:8)

    House fires are the #1 disasters here locally. In Wichita alone there are well over 100 per year. That’s a couple per week.  A house fire may not seem like much of a disaster, but it can affect the residents drastically. Especially if they are very poor or do not have fire insurance.

    Of the fires I responded to with the Red Cross, most were in lower income sections of town.  Some start with electrical shorts, and those are more likely to occur in older homes.  I’ve been to several started by someone smoking while on oxygen.  Bad combination.  Tragically, one of those was a fatality.  I remember it felt eerie standing directly over the spot a man had burned to death (or died of smoke inhalation) about an hour earlier.  His roommate was in shock.

    These examples may seem drastic, but there are hurting people all around. The needs directly around us are tremendous. Within our families, in our church, those in our spheres of inluence. People are hurting. Locally.

    It’s easy to become carried away with the world’s problems. Yet it’s important to live in the present, meeting the needs we see directly around us.  I have to remind myself, “Think Globally, but act Locally!”

    Blogging Again!

    pencil

    After taking a break for the summer, I’ve decided to pick blogging back up. However, this time I’m taking a slightly different tack. In the past, Simplefollower blog was not advertised much, it was more of an experiment…  Now it will be more public.

    My writing goal is to post at least once a week.  We’ll see…

    7 Stages Out of Traditional Church

    Roger is the author of the blog, Simple Church Journal. Last Fall, he wrote a post listing the stages he sees people go through in their journey towards a more simple house church meeting.

    These stages resonated with me – some of which hit close to home! With his permission I’m reprinting his post below.

    Roger points out 1) these stages are not necessarily in chronological order, and 2) they are referring more to those transitioning from traditional church to simple/house churches than new believers.

    1. Letting go of old paradigms of church life.
        This stage is described in a variety of ways from “taking the red pill,” to frustration with old wineskins to discovering what the Bible teaches about church life… It is sometimes accompanied with periods of disorientation, wandering through valleys of confusion, or (alternatively) great relief and a new sense of freedom. People discover that they no longer want to “go” to church, rather they want to learn what it really means to “be” the church.
    2. Exploring New Testament gatherings.
        Since our old paradigm of church life has often revolved around the Sunday morning gathering, we often find ourselves on a quest to discover what “New Testament” simple/house church gatherings might look like and feel like. In this stage, “the gathering” often remains the focus of our church-life as we seek to explore and experience small, Spirit-led, participatory, Christ-filled gatherings.

        Our freedom continues to grow and we become more and more enamored with the reality that we really are 24/7, kingdom-living, Spirit-directed believers. The dividing walls between secular and sacred continue to come down and we become excited about integrating our spiritual life with our “everyday” life.

    3. Re-boot to Jesus.
        Using Frost & Hirsch’s term (from ReJesus), part of the overall transformation we walk through is the re-centering of Jesus in our life. This takes place as we find ourselves removing pieces of our religious life that have sometimes taken center stage alongside of Jesus or as mediators between us and Jesus: our church, our pastor, certain leaders, certain teachers, doctrine, our church’s culture (fitting in to the culture), religious rules for church life or behavior, etc, etc.

        The result is often a personal renewal of our own relationship with Jesus, a greater longing to understand what it is to be an uncompromising follower, to hear his voice, to respond to him, and to live out of a deep intimacy and love relationship with him that is truly center stage in our life.

    4. A new missional heart and longing.
        It is inevitable that the process of re-booting to Jesus stirs in us a fresh desire to see his kingdom, his love, his power known and experienced by others. However, this stage is sometimes fraught with severe challenges because our background around “missional” has sometimes been so pre-packaged and programmed that we are challenged to grasp the unique and fresh ways that Jesus wants to make himself known through us. This is especially true for those whose spiritual gifts do not seem to fit into the “missional” spectrum.

        However, for those who are more apostolic and evangelistic in gifting, this stage often leads to an entirely new excitement and fervor for taking the “real Jesus” into the streets, neighborhoods, and unreached segments of the world. For those who have NOT seen themselves as “missional,” (in our previous church experiences) this stage can lead to some exciting discoveries of how God wants to embody himself uniquely through each of us (see stage #5).

        Note: It has been my [Roger’s] experience that each of these stages may lead to changes in one’s own worship community and gathering. For example, stage 4 may literally lead to someone moving geographically in order to better fulfill his/her calling. Or, we may find that our own transformation draws us to connect with different people than when we started—or even NO people for a season as we become re-oriented.

    5. Fresh discovery of our own passions, spiritual gifts, and calling.
        As we are freed up from church/religious boxes, we are able to more thoroughly discover our uniqueness in the way that God shaped us (passions, gifts, and calling) leading to a new understanding of how he wants to work in and through our lives. I believe that, in some ways, this stage may lead to the most significant impact on the world as Christ’s church is renewed to walk in all of her splendor according to the unique way that each person is shaped.

        This may be considered a “convergent stage,” a coming together of several stages at once: our experience of re-booting to Jesus, our missional excitement about seeing the “real Jesus” shared among our neighbors, friends, and world, and our discovery of how we are uniquely created and gifted to serve and embody Jesus.

    6. Integration of an organic, fruitful lifestyle with organic gatherings that support it.
        This is simply to re-iterate that gatherings may change as our life and lifestyle shift and that they ultimately support, synergistically, what God is doing through us as we experience stage #7.
    7. Our kingdom influence spreads and even becomes reproductive in its impact.
        Since organic life grows and reproduces, we will discover the life that God has shaped in us not only influences others but becomes a living, reproducing influence. For apostolic workers in unreached segments, this can lead to church planting movements. Although our callings and influence may differ from this (and from one another) I do believe that similar types of reproductive fruitfulness can and will occur as we walk out this process of re-discovery of life in Jesus.

        Ultimately, it is a transformational process that we are on. As we are fully renewed in Jesus and he draws out of us who we really are, the Spirit’s influence through us becomes more and more dynamic, natural, compelling, and living (i.e. reproductive in influence).

    Am I Content?

    I often wonder, “What does God have for me today, right now?” I frequently chafe at the daily grind, wishing to do something more exciting – or at least more important.

    Yet I firmly believe God has me exactly where I’m at for a reason and a purpose – even if what I’m doing isn’t very glamorous. At least not in my mind… I suppose living the bachelor’s life of ease may sound glamorous to somebody.

    In his book, The New Friars: The Emerging Movement Serving the World’s Poor, Scott Bessenecker writes:

      “Ministry to the margins has a kind of glamour that those ministering in the mainstream either resent or long for. Gangs, prostitutes, prison, slums-it all sounds so exciting, like it would make great fodder for storytelling and family news letters. But the glam factor is short-lived when the daily grind of life among the poor sinks in.”

    Any routine – even great ones – can become drudgery. Accepting the work God has me for me today, right now, seems key. I think what keeps life fresh and interesting is 1) the spontaniety of being led by the Spirit and 2) savoring daily interactions with the unique people God has placed in my life.

      “Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much, and whoever is dishonest with very little will also be dishonest with much.” (Luke 16:10)

    I’m faced with no end of opportunities to demonstrate faithfulness on a daily basis. Unfortunately, I oftentimes feel like a clumsy runner bumbling through a hurdle event: finishing another lap, yet knocking down every hurdle.

    Indictments, Confessions, and Following Jesus

    I notice precious few go against the grain. At least not in a significant way. And this would include me.

    But aren’t we Christians above all people called to go against the grain? For example, Jesus said, “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Matthew 16:25) This advice is counter cultural. Who wants to lose their life? We want safety. The world and our flesh say, “Find yourself – Be your own person – Look out for number one – You only get to go around once so go for the gusto – If it feels good, do it – Promote yourself – At all costs, save your own skin!”

    Jesus didn’t save his life, he gave it up. He accomplished more in 33 years than Methuselah did in 969 years. I wonder, what about me? What will I accomplish? If I choose to try maximizing a lifetime of comfortable suburbanite lifestyle – living the American Dream – what will be left to show at the end?


      “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me…”
      (John 12:24-26)

    Recently, while visiting various churches, I have observed something I coin the “entertainment phenomena.” The vibe I get while visiting certain places is, “We’ll attract people with exciting services, programs, and highly qualified staff – We’ll wine them and dine them – This will keep them coming – And keep them paying.”

    This notion seems similar to thinking that wrapping a diamond in tinsel would increase its attractiveness1. But this is not so! the diamond we have is Christ: his love, fellowship, power, forgiveness, and acceptance. We don’t need the tinsel.

    This propensity for desiring comfort and safety is blatant in American Christian culture, but the fact they are present in my own life – even prevalent – is what I find especially sickening. It’s so easy for me to conform to the world, even when I feel I’m taking a stand for Christ.

    “It is no measure of health to be well adjusted to a profoundly sick society.” -Jiddu Krishnamurti

    I may think I’m being radical, following Jesus with my entire life, surrendering my will and desires to his leadership – when I’m actually more like a little kid at a swimming pool who’s climbed the ladder of the high dive, standing up there thinking he’s really done something big. Yet he hasn’t jumped off yet, hasn’t taken the plunge. Just standing at the top, looking down on everyone else, feeling smug.

    Am I ready to follow Christ where it hurts? True abandon, complete surrender, reckless faith…?

    The god of America is comfort. It is my god as well. Regardless of what I say, my actions tell another story:

  • “I’m ready to do anything, go anywhere, just so long as there’s air conditioning, sanitation, running water, privacy, and preferably high-speed Internet.”

      “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony.’” (Luke 16:25)

    I say I’m a pilgrim, that this world is not my home, and that I’m a stranger. Then what do I do? Accumulate stuff. Craft the perfect apartment, furnishing it with every luxury. Buy toys. Work on my public image. Value temporary materialism over eternal relationships. Attempt to stockpile cash reserves like I’ll live forever. Like I have no heavenly Father who has promised to provide for my every need.

    I say I’m a stranger, yet I call this my home.

    Food is another example. Every possible option is at my fingertips – and so every day I eat well. When I want something, I buy it; sparing no expense.

      “Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things.” (Philippians 3:19)

    While living in luxury and plenty my mind frequently dwells here below on earthly things, not above on Christ. I become numb to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Like one wearing headphones, I’m tuned out from the leading of God’s still, small voice.

    My actions also say:

  • ”I’m ready to reach out to people, just so long as it doesn’t significantly touch my home, my private retreat, my comfort zones.”

    Jesus lived with his disciples. He didn’t just teach them at a weekly Sunday school. Or spend the occasional evening together over dessert. Or even lecture them in an intensive classroom setting. No, he spent large quantities of time with them – one on one, living together. He shared his life, not just partially but fully: 24/7. He headed up the first Fishers of Men apprenticeship program and it took time, personal attention, patience, and discomfort.

    I hear so much about discipleship today, yet see little of this “immersion” discipleship Jesus practiced, and for sure not in my own life. Am I not called to these same ideals? Jesus lived in community. I voluntarily live in isolation.

    This community thing: it goes against the grain of Western thinking. Except for nuclear families living together (and even then usually family members separate in individual rooms) close-knit community is hard to find in America. We place a high value on personal space… personal space which often extends to hundreds – if not thousands – of square feet. And that fully furnished, enclosed, and climate controlled.

    The more I think of Christ, the more I’m humbled with the fact he loved me enough to undergo pain. For my ransom He paid a price that hurt Him, that wasn’t comfortable, that wasn’t convenient.

      “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” (2 Corinthians 8:9)

    Am I prepared to do the same for others? Will I be Christ to the hurting? What about becoming poor, so that others might be rich? Jesus says the road to the Kingdom is narrow, the gate is small, and there be few that find it.

    Sola Fide, through faith alone, is the cry of easy-believism. Say a prayer and claim your fire insurance. Yes, I too am convinced – through my understanding of Scripture – that we are saved solely by God’s grace, mercy, and power alone; not through works so we could boast. The Bible is clear on this point: we can’t save ourselves.

    Yet there are always two sides of a coin. Jesus is our perfect example, yet his perfect faith didn’t preclude him from doing something. On the contraire, His act on the cross was a result of his faith.

    James conceded, “You see that a person is justified by what he does and not by faith alone.” (James 2:24)

    A holy life leads to a holy mission.

    Being is more important than doing. Yet doing is a natural progression from being. Not out of guilt, obligation, or mere excitement for Christ’s cause; but springing from a love for Jesus himself.

    There’s a fork in the road. One is broad and easy, one is narrow and difficult. Which one will I take? Which one will you take?

    How about taking the plunge?


    1. Snyder, Howard. Radical Renewal: The Problem of Wineskins Today. Wipf & Stock Publishers: 2005.
  • Going Against the Grain

    Going against the grain is difficult. Especially to do so in a significant way.

    But aren’t we Christians above all people called to go against the grain? For example, Jesus said, “For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will find it.” (Matthew 16:25)

    This advice is counter cultural. Who wants to lose their life? We want safety. The world and our flesh say, “Find yourself – Be your own person – Look out for number one – If it feels good, do it – Promote yourself – At all costs, save your own skin!”

    Jesus didn’t save his life, he gave it up. He accomplished more in 33 years than the combined effort of everyone who’s lived in the past 2,000 years. I wonder, what about me? What will I accomplish? If I choose to try maximizing a lifetime of comfortable suburbanite lifestyle – living the American Dream – what will be left to show at the end?

      “I tell you the truth, unless a kernel of wheat falls to the ground and dies, it remains only a single seed. But if it dies, it produces many seeds. The man who loves his life will lose it, while the man who hates his life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me; and where I am, my servant also will be. My Father will honor the one who serves me.” (John 12:24-26)

    Am I ready to follow Christ where it hurts? True abandon, complete surrender, reckless faith…?

    The god of America seems to be comfort. Is it my god as well? What story do my actions tell? Do they say, “I’m ready to do anything, go anywhere, just so long as there’s air conditioning, sanitation, running water, privacy, and preferably high-speed Internet”?

      “But Abraham replied, ‘Son, remember that in your lifetime you received your good things, while Lazarus received bad things, but now he is comforted here and you are in agony.’” (Luke 16:25)

    I say I’m a pilgrim, that this world is not my home, that I’m a stranger. But what do I catch myself doing? Accumulating stuff, crafting the perfect apartment, furnishing it with every luxury, buying toys, polishing my public image. In short, so often valuing temporary materialism and fluff over eternal relationships. Not that all “stuff” is bad. One way God blesses us is materially. And looking forward, the Bible states the Lord Jesus Christ is preparing a place for us now. I have a feeling that place ain’t gonna be too shabby. Imbalance in any direction is dangerous.

    I say I’m a stranger, yet I call this my home.

    Food is another example. Every possible option at my fingertips – and every day I eat well. When I want something, I buy it.

      “Their destiny is destruction, their god is their stomach, and their glory is in their shame. Their mind is on earthly things.” (Philippians 3:19)

    While living in luxury and plenty my mind frequently dwells here below on earthly things, not above on Christ. I become numb to the leading of the Holy Spirit. Like one wearing headphones, I’m tuned out from the leading of God’s still, small voice.

    The more I think about it, the more I’m hit with the fact Jesus loved me enough to undergo pain. For my ransom He paid a price which hurt Him and wasn’t comfortable or convenient.

      “For you know the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, that though he was rich, yet for your sakes he became poor, so that you through his poverty might become rich.” (2 Corinthians 8:9)

    Am I prepared to do the same for others? Will I be Christ to the hurting? Will I become poor, that the marginalized might become rich? Jesus said the road to the Kingdom is narrow, the gate is small, and there be few that find it.

    Being is more important than doing; yet doing is the natural progression from being. Not out of guilt, obligation, or mere excitement for Christ’s mission, but springing from a love for Jesus Christ himself.

    There’s a fork in the road. One is broad and easy, one is narrow and difficult. Which will I take? Which will you take?

    How about taking the plunge?

    The Church: Traveling Light

    Traveling light. The very phrase conjures images of camel-laden nomads crossing the Sahara, an Alpinist scaling Mt. Kilimanjaro, or (slightly less romantic), a homeless man walking down Main Street.

    Jesus traveled light. For at least part of his life, Jesus was homeless. ”Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head.” (Matt 8:20) When Jesus sent out the 70 disciples, he instructed them to carry nothing: no money, no bag, no spare clothes, no extra shoes, not even a walking stick. Now that’s traveling light! (Matt 10:9-10)

    I love camping and have spent many nights outdoors: in a tent, under a tarp, in boats, and simply lying under the stars. One lesson I’ve oft relearned whilst backpacking, canoeing, sailing, exploring, and even car camping is the value of traveling light.

    For example… one time my Dad, Brothers, and I traveled to Minnesota and canoed on the Boundary Waters. I decided since the canoes were carrying my luggage (rather than my back), I could afford some extra luxuries, right? Wrong, because I didn’t take into account lengthy portages! Baggage became a literal burden on that trip.

    Going back to my earlier post, the book When the Church Was Young got me thinking of this analogy of “lightening the church.”

    The question I’ve been wondering is: what would traveling light for the church look like? What is the minimum in regards to practices of gathering together? I imagine the answer may surprise us and the minimum be far less than commonly supposed.

    Starting broad: how necessary are the rotating multi-colored lights during praise and worship? I’ve seen those in more than one church gathering.

    How about massive Easter programs? There’s one assembly I’m familiar with where a major focus of the church is their Easter program. I believe they work on it all year round. I’m not saying lights and programs are bad, only trying to identify the minimum required for a “church meeting.”

    Could we do without musical niceties such as offertories, special numbers, and five member bands?

    How about resource hungry programs like Youth Groups, AWANA, and Sunday School? Would it still be church?

    How about denominationalism? No more identification as Baptist, Methodist, Pentecostal, Lutheran… even Catholic?

    On this last point I can hear, “Isn’t ecumenicalism the sanctioning of doctrinal impurity?” Maybe, but we’re talking minimum here. Traveling light. Replacing dogma, obstinacy, and creed with grace, love, and humility.

    How about church buildings? Are they necessary, or ancillary? I’ve already hashed this subject on earlier posts, but will share another quote I recently ran across – this from John Havlik:

      “The church is never a place, but always a people; never a fold but always a flock; never a sacred building but always a believing assembly. The church is you who pray, not where you pray. A structure of brick or marble can no more be a church than your clothes of serge or satin can be you.” (From People-centered evangelism)

    Have we reached minimum yet? Afraid not. Hierarchy and structure are next.

    It’s an unfortunate fact very few churches (at least in my experience) model their leadership structure off the Elder model found in the New Testament.

    For starters, a more Biblical model would include:

    1. a plurality of joint leadership (vs a one-man show)
    2. who are raised up and appointed from within the local assembly (vs hired from out-of-state)
    3. and who have been evaluated in light of qualifications of character (vs theological degrees)

    At the very least, full time positions such as Youth Pastor, Worship Leader, and Sunday School superintendent are clearly supplementary and therefore dispensable, if seeking minimum.

    How about the New Testament? Now hear me out! I’m not saying God’s Word is dispensable, it isn’t. But I would like to point out that if we’re going down to the minimum, early churches did not have a complete copy of the New Testament. Remember, the Gospel was initially shared verbally. Jesus himself did not write anything down, nor did he instruct others to do so.

    It was only later – when it became apparent the Second Coming could be a long ways off – that people began writing biographies of Jesus. And the epistles were necessitated by the Apostles being stretched thin over large geographical areas. It wasn’t until several hundred years later the canon we accept today as the New Testament was finalized.

    In his book, When the Church Was Young, Loosley writes,

      “When the church was very young it had no New Testament. The church is older than the New Testament.

    I do not believe Loosley is trying to minimize the importance of the New Testament at all. He goes on to say:

      “In such a supremely important matter as the record for future generations of the revelation given in Christ, the hand of God was unquestionably at work. But it was also God’s hand that caused a church to come alive and grow, multiply and shake two continents… without a New Testament!”

    As I wrap up this lengthy post, I realize it begs the questions, “If all these things you’ve listed are extra, what then is essential? What elements define a church meeting?”

    I’ll try covering these questions in a future post.

    Photo Credit: Carrying a Canoe and Duffel on the Portage / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0
    Photo Credit: The Band / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

    Light bulbs, Luxury, People Hurting and an Inspirational Story

    Do Light Bulbs Shine Brighter in the Dark?

    Of course not, light bulbs shine just as bright regardless of where they’re located.

    And this is a silly question, but think, “If you were a light bulb, would you prefer to be in a miner’s headlamp or the headlight of a riding mower?”

    Don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to be in the miner’s lamp: lighting up creepy recesses in a dark mine. There my light would be useful. Headlights on riding mowers aren’t near as useful. Who mows their lawn in the dark anyways? We usually cut grass in the daylight. And during the day a headlight is not necessary… and only barely visible.

    “Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and glorify your Father who is in heaven.” (Matthew 5:16)

    Though our lights as Christians should be shining regardless of our circumstances, practically, some places need light more than others.

    What got me thinking about “shining lights” was the article: 20 Years Old and Running an Orphanage. Katie’s self-sacrifice is inspiring to me. The fact she’s helping people is undeniable; through her good deeds her light is shining brightly.

    With a church building on nearly every corner, does America have more than enough light to go around? I may have used to think so, but have since seen enough enclaves of darkness here even in the good old U.S. to be convinced otherwise. Even so, finding physical need here in America is like finding loose change in the couch. It’s there, but you have to look for it. At least in comparison to places like Haiti, Sudan, and Afghanistan.

    Though light bulbs may shine with unwavering intensity regardless of location, I think us Christians are more chameleon. For us it’s true that, “Out of sight, out of mind.” We tend to only rise to challenges directly in our line of vision. What about the 24,000 children under the age of five who die every day?

    When we aren’t literally faced with the stark reality of a starving child on our doorstep, we easily rationalize extravagances such as spending $700 on upgrading our Jeep (like I just did), buying new books on Amazon rather than checking out used ones from the library (something I do), or eating expensively and unhealthily when we could easily do otherwise (me again). All this rather than store up for ourselves treasure in heaven. All this rather than help people who have nothing, not even hope.

    Obviously, not everyone is called to the slums of Calcutta. Job wasn’t, neither was Samson, Solomon, or Samuel… yet God had a unique plan for each of these men. He can use us wherever we are.

    Nevertheless, all this raises questions.

    First, “Where is my light shining today?”

    Photo Credit: Poor Kid / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

    My Nieces

    Last night… I hung out with family. After dinner, we went outside and sat around in lawn chairs talking. It was a beautiful evening.

    I spent time playing with my two little nieces – they’re two and four years old. I tried teaching them how to blow a piece of grass between their thumbs and make it whistle. Imitating me, they would stick a piece of grass in their mouths, puff out their little cheeks, but no sounds would come! Yet they squealed in laughter anyways…

    Getting tired, I lay down in the cool grass near my brothers, listening to them chatter away… they were discussing running: comparing best track and cross-country times; in short, practicing the fine art of reminiscing.

    Seeing someone down on their level, my nieces raced inside, returning with little pillows and blankets so they could join me. Watching and contemplating the blue sky and faintly visible hazy silver moon didn’t last long though, soon the three of us were playing “steal the pillow,” a new game I didn’t even know existed! As part of the game, my two year old niece took special delight in running up and jumping on me. I guess that must have been one of the ways to “win,” but I’m not sure.

    At one point, when they were settled down and quiet, little Kailee looked at me and said, so innocently, “Uncle Nacky?”

    “What, Kailee?”

    “I love you.”

    “I love you too, Kailee.”

    That four year old red-haired bundle of life and dimpley smiles can get her “Uncle Nacky” choked up. And make him feel special.

      …the disciples came to Jesus and asked, “Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven?” He called a little child and had him stand among them. And he said: “I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Therefore, whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me.” (Matthew 18:1-5)

    When the Church was Young


    Last week I read When the Church was Young, it Did Not Look Anything Like it Does Today by Ernest Loosley. At only 77 pages, it was a quick read. Not a new work, (written in 1935) I still found it applicable.

    Very clear in layout, it compares some features of the early church with the church of today. Loosley’s main points are evident in his chapter titles:

      Part 1: When the Church was Young, It Had:

    1. No Buildings
    2. No Denominations
    3. No Fixed Organization
    4. No New Testament
    5. No Vocabulary of Its Own
    6. No Dogmatic System
    7. No Sabbath Rest

      Part 2: But It Did Possess:

    8. An Experience
    9. A Store of Teaching from Christ
    10. A Gospel
    11. Herself to Give (This point extra from the publisher)

    Some points from this book which struck me were:

    1. The essentials are the things present at the beginning
    2. The church worked the more effectively [when it was young] because it traveled light
    3. What traditions have been introduced for expediency may now be left behind for expediency
    4. The line of advance for the church today is not to imitate the forms but to recapture the spirit of the Primitive Church

    This book got me thinking about what it means for the church to travel light.

    For more information, check out the forward to the book PDF Format

    Blog Stats After First Year

    Back when this project began a year ago, I was curious if anyone would find it if it were never actively promoted.

    Now, a year later, the number of first time visitors stands at 397. Nothing to write home about, but that’s ok cus this blog has primarily been a project for my own benefit and reference.

    Too, finishing tasks always feels good… And writing a blog post provides a manageable task to start and finish and, hence, feel good about. Even if the value is dubious in nature.

    Following Jesus is Lifestyle, not Academic

    “The spiritual life is first of all a life. It is not merely something to be known and studied, it is to be lived.”
    -Thomas Merton, Thoughts In Solitude

    “Superficiality is the curse of our age… The desperate need today is not for a greater number of intelligent people, or gifted people, but for deep people.”
    -Richard Foster, Celebration of Discipline

    “Everybody thinks of changing humanity and nobody thinks of changing himself.”
    –Leo Tolstoy


    Foster’s quote reminds me of something a man once shared with me: “When I used to look at people who were gifted and talented I would be envious of them, thinking God could really use people like that. But over time I’ve started viewing things differently… Now when I see a gifted or talented individual I’m sad and think, ‘That person has a lot to get over before God will be able to use him.'” Too true.

    In God’s economy, everything is backwards. The first will be last, the last will be first. Those who live by the truth they know (even if that be very little) will always be far ahead of those who merely intellectually know truth (even if that be very much).

    38,000 Denominations… plus House Churches

    When delving into the study of how Christians should structure their meetings – particularly in respect to modeling closely after New Testament principles – it doesn’t take long before one stumbles across the “House Church Movement.”

    I do know I’m supposed to Love God and Love my Neighbor (and admit to frequently failing there at square one), but contending to know which of the 38,000 Christian denominations has the real corner on truth leaves even my analytical mind spinning!

    Did Jesus intend for “principles of gathering” to be this complicated? Or is the infinitesimally fractured denominationalism we see all merely a result of man’s attempt to formulize what Jesus intended to be a heart attitude lifestyle?

    In my quest to Simply Follow Christ, I’m committed to finding answers. Or at least seeking answers. Currently my pilgrimage has led me to examine the merits of House Churches.

    Looking online I came across this House Church Basics website which contains a number of thought provoking articles. Reading all the articles takes forever… but fortunately (for you) I’ve compiled what I found to be the most interesting sections into this document:
    An Intro to House Churches – A Quote Compilation by NickPDF FormatMS Word Format

    Memorization Inspiration

    Awana Logo with Kids I attended our annual AWANA awards banquet last Sunday. Many young people were recognized, but one young girl in particular stood out to me. In case you’re unfamiliar with AWANA, it’s a fun program for youth offered in many churches and has a heavy emphasis on Bible memorization. But back to our young heroine, Emily. Over the course of this past year Emily has completed several AWANA books which represent a significant amount of Bible study and scripture memorization.

    As the emcee shared these facts before presenting her award, he went on to add Emily had also decided to complete an extra assignment… memorizing the entire Sermon on the Mount, which she did!

    I sat up when I heard that. Memorizing The Sermon on the Mount is no small task: It’s 3 chapters long and includes 111 verses. What’s worse, I’ve personally started memorizing that portion of Scripture more than once and never progressed further than the beatitudes, the first section. Embarrassing.

    Reminiscing back to my short stint in AWANA as a 7 year old, I don’t recall ever volunteering for extra assignments. Or hardly even doing the minimum for that matter, usually I was the one cramming right before it started. In fact, the main experience echoing through the halls of my memory is the excitement of playing bombardment during “game time.” Nowadays, I’m not sure if they even let kids play bombardment for safety reasons.

    But I digress – What I meant to say by all this was, “I was inspired!” If she can do it, maybe I could too.

    thoughts

    Man Watching Sunrise

    “A woman’s heart should be so lost in God, that a man needs to seek Him in order to find her.”

    And while I’m in a poetic mood…

    “…life cannot be understood flat on a page. It has to be lived; a person has to get out of his head, has to fall in love, has to memorize poems, has to jump off bridges into rivers, has to stand in an empty desert and whisper sonnets under his breath.” – Donald Miller
    Photo Credit: Ruminating / CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

    What makes a Church a Church? Part 2: Who Are the Church?

    continued from Part 1…

    PeopleSilhouetteThe title of this post may sound wierd: “Who are the Church?” What kind of grammar is that??!

    But this is because we are conditioned to thinking of the word church as meaning a building instead of a collective group of “called out ones.”

    The more I examine the scriptures, the more I see we don’t meet “at church,” we meet “as the church.” We don’t “go to church,” we “are the church.” Evangelism isn’t bringing the lost “to the church,” it’s bringing the church “to the lost.”

    In his book, When the Church Was Young, Ernest Loosley says,

    “When the church was very young, it had no buildings. Let us begin with that striking fact. That the church had no buildings is the most noticeable of the points of difference between the church of the early days and the church of today. In the minds of most people today, ‘church’ means first a building, probably something else second; but seldom does ‘the church’ stand for anything other than a building. Yet here is the fact with which we start: the early church possessed no buildings and carried on its work for a great many years without erecting any.”

    The Bible says we Christians are…

    …God’s Building
    “For we are God’s fellow workers; you are God’s field, God’s building.” (1 Corinthians 3:9)

    …God’s House
    “…The Most high does not live in houses made by men.” (Acts 7:48)

    “But Christ is faithful to a son over God’s house. And we are his house.” (Hebrews 3:6)

    …God’s Temple
    “Do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit, who is in you, whom you have received from God?” (1 Corinthians 6:18)

    “Don’t you know that you yourselves are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit lives in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him; for God’s temple is sacred, and you are that temple.” (1 Corinthians 3:16-17)

    …God’s Household
    “You are … members of God’s household.” (Ephesians 2:19)

    …Christ’s Body
    “…We who are many form one body, and each member belongs to all the others.” (Romans 12:5)

    “…Now you are the body of Christ, and each one of you is a part of it.” (1 Corinthians 12:27)

    “…No one ever hated his own body, but he feeds and cares for it, just as Christ does the church-for we are members of his body.” (Ephesians 5:30)

    …Priests
    “But you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light.” (1 Peter 2:9)

    So the church isn’t a building, it’s us!

    And in the particular sense, we are regularly “called out” from our busy schedules to meet with others of like faith for encouraging each other and worshiping God. This is an assembly, a gathering.

    But in the general sense we have also been “called out” of the world to be Holy and Separate: living sacrifices pleasing to God, which is our spiritual act of worship (Rom 12:1).

    Did Paul claim to be Authoritative?

    gavel
    How many times have you heard someone quote 2 Timothy 3:16, “All Scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness…” and thought to yourself, “Did Paul really mean for us to consider the very words he was penning to Timothy Scripture as well?”

    It’s an interesting question and got me wondering if Paul ever claimed to be authoritative.

    As brought up in my last post, of the thirteen books found in the New Testament penned by Paul, only 1 Corinthians directly claims to be written for all Christians. “To … all those everywhere who call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ – their Lord and ours” (1 Corinthians 1:2).

    So in answering the question, “Did Paul himself claim to be Authoritative,” I will – at least in this post – limit my scrutiny to the book of 1 Corinthians.

    Here is a quick rundown of what I found after sitting down and reading straight through the book of 1 Corinthians:

    First, Paul actually lists a reason of proof that his message and preaching are authoritative, “My message and my preaching were not with wise and persuasive words, but with a demonstration of the Spirit’s power, so that your faith might not rest on men’s wisdom, but on God’s power.” (2:4-5)

    Paul then claims to have secret wisdom, which was revealed to him, “We speak of God’s secret wisdom, a wisdom that has been hidden and that God destined for our glory before time began …. God has revealed it to us by his Spirit.” (2:7-10)

    He lists “expert” in his job description, “By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as an expert builder…” (3:10)

    Declares he has been entrusted with secret things, “Men ought to regard us as those … entrusted with the secret things of God.” (4:1)

    Urges his readers (including us) to follow his example: “Therefore I urge you to imitate me,” (4:16) and, “I praise you for remembering me in everything and for holding to the teachings, just as I passed them on to you.” (11:2)

    Appeals to outside testimony regarding consistency in his personal life, “I am sending to you Timothy… he will remind you of my way of life in Christ Jesus, which agrees with what I teach everywhere in every church.” (4:17)

    Maintains he received teaching directly from the Lord: “For I received from the Lord what I also passed on to you: The Lord Jesus, on the night he was betrayed, took bread …” (11:23) and, “For what I received I passed on to you as of first importance: that Christ died for our sins…” (15:3)

    Claims Jesus personally appeared to him, “…last of all he [Jesus] appeared to me also, as one abnormally born.” (15:8)

    So I would say that in the instances listed above Paul does imply authority. However, he also appeals the reader to make a correct judgment regarding his words:

  • “I speak to sensible people; judge for yourselves what I say.” (10:15)
  • “If anybody thinks he is a prophet or spiritually gifted, let him acknowledge that what I am writing to you is the Lord’s command. If he ignores this, he himself will be ignored.” (14:37)

    So there you have it.

    Photo Credit: Courtroom One Gavel
  • To whom did Paul write his letters?

    old wrinkled letterA question I’ve had recently is, “Were Paul’s letters written to me or others?” I’ve wondered, “Am I reading someone else’s mail or are Paul’s writings general information relevant to all believers?”

    Let’s start with who Paul himself said his letters were written to:

    Romans 1:7
  • To all in Rome who are loved by God and called to be saints
    1 Corinthians 1:2
  • To the church of God in Corinth,
  • to those sanctified in Christ Jesus and called to be holy, together with
  • all those everywhere who call on the name of our Lord Jesus Christ
    2 Corinthians 1:1
  • To the church of God in Corinth, together with
  • all the saints throughout Achaia
    Galatians 1:2
  • To the churches in Galatia
    Ephesians 1:1
  • To the saints in Ephesus, the faithful in Christ Jesus
    Philippians 1:1
  • To all the saints in Christ Jesus at Philippi, together with the overseers and deacons
    Colossians 1:2 & 4:16
  • To the holy and faithful brothers in Christ at Colosse
  • After this letter has been read to you, see that it is also read in the church of the Laodiceans
    1 Thessalonians
  • To the church of the Thessalonians in God the Father and the Lord Jesus Christ (1 Thessalonians 1:1)
  • Greet all the brothers with a holy kiss. I charge you before the Lord to have this letter read to all the brothers (1 Thessalonians 5:26-27)
    2 Thessalonians 1:1
  • To the church of the Thessalonians in God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ
    1 Timothy 1:2
  • To Timothy my true son in the faith
    2 Timothy 1:2
  • To Timothy, my dear son
    Titus 1:4
  • To Titus, my true son in our common faith
    Philemon 1:1
  • To Philemon our dear friend and fellow worker,
  • to Apphia our sister,
  • to Archippus our fellow soldier and
  • to the church that meets in your home

    So there you have it. It is notable that the only book which clearly states it was designed for the general audience of all Christendom is 1 Corinthians.

    Two observations: 1) Paul told the Colossians to let the Laodiceans read their letter too. This could imply Paul felt his letter to the Colossians had broad application. 2) At the end of 1 Thessalonians Paul exhorts his letter be read to “all the brothers.” Again, this could mean he thought his letter had broad application to all of Christendom, or it may have just meant he wanted everyone in Thessalonica to hear it. In context, the latter seems to probable.

    In conclusion, the answer to the original question of, “Who did Paul write his letters to?” is, “In general, not explicitly to us.” However, that doesn’t mean they are not applicable for us, or that they do not contain truth relevant for us today. I think they do. I’m just saying those conclusions require inference.

    Photo Credit: Found: Love Letter — Envelope
  • What makes a Church a Church? Part 1 – Ekklesia

    White ChurchRecently there has been discussion among my friends as to what makes a Christian gathering an official “church meeting.” What makes a church, church?

    A bit tongue-in-cheek, the following quote may be a good place to start:

    “The image of much of contemporary Christianity can be summarized, a bit euphemistically, as holy people coming regularly to a holy place at a holy day at a holy hour to participate in a holy ritual lead by a holy man dressed in holy clothes against a holy fee.” (Wolfgang Simpson)

    The first verse that comes up in connection with this topic is generally Matthew 18:20, ”For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them.” Invariably someone will point out Jesus made this statement in the context of disciplining a fellow brother and not in the context of a local church. My personal opinion is that – regardless of the context – Jesus said it.

    As I’ve begun looking at this topic it has surprised me to see how large a role semantics plays into the discussion.

    Let’s start with the word, “church”. Found in the New Testament over 100 times, the underlying Greek word is Ekklesia. The literal meaning of Ekklesia is “called out.” A direct translation of Ekklesia into modern English would render, “congregation,” or “assembly.” Not the old ecclesiastical word “church.”

    Of note, the first Bible translated into English, the Tyndale Bible (1526), used the word “congregation” for Ekklesia. It wasn’t until later in the Bishop’s and King James Bibles the word Ekklesida was translated “church” instead.

    In fact, when King James commissioned his translation, he made it a rule that the translators had to use the word “church”:

    “The Old Ecclesiastical Words to be kept, viz. the Word Church not to be translated Congregation &c.” (one of 15 rules King James had regarding the translation project)

    Of course this rule raises the question, what was the motive? Why didn’t King James let Ekklesia be translated correctly (clearly)? Though it is hard to say exactly why today, a possible explanation is that the word “congregation” or “assembly” undermined the authority of a global church hierarchy and structure as was in existence in the Catholic & Anglican establishments of the time. The word “assembly” implies a local, autonomous, independent gathering, not a rigid system of centralized power coming from the likes of a King or Pope.

    Though in modern translations of the New Testament the word “church” is still the most common translation of the word Ekklesia, there is at least one instance in the Bible where nearly all translators still translate the same word “assembly” instead. That is found in Acts 19 where there we find a great uproar in Ephesus precipitated by a jealous craftsman named Demetrius who fashioned silver idols. Because he was losing business due to Christian converts, Demetrius incited the city against Paul.

    Theater in Ephesus
    Theater in Ephesus
    Now in Ephesus there is a large stadium and as the riot increased in passion it is recorded that “the people seized Gaius and Aristarchus, Paul’s traveling companions from Macedonia, and rushed as one man into the theater.” Within that context I have listed below the verses which use the word “assembly,” translated from the Greek word Ekklesia:

    Acts 19:32, “The assembly was in confusion: Some were shouting one thing, some another.” When the noise settled down, the city clerk addressed the crowd, finishing with, “’If there is anything further you want to bring up, it must be settled in a legal assembly.’ … After he said this, he dismissed the assembly.” (Acts 19:39 & 41)

    The idea is that everyone was “called out” from what they were doing and assembled at the theater – in this case for a riot. It can be seen from the context of this story that the word Ekklesia in those times referred to a gathering, an assembly. Like in High School, sometimes there is an interruption in the scheduled class routines where students are “called out” to attend an “assembly,” a meeting for some purpose like a pep rally, fund raiser, or speech by the class president.

    So semantics is important. Nowadays the word “church” usually doesn’t primarily conjure up the idea of a “group assembly” but rather things like a church building, a church service, the universal church, the Roman Catholic Church, or even a distinction from the State (as in the phrase “Separation of Church and State”).

    Answering the question, “What makes a church, church,” is a biggee.

    Continue on to Part 2 of What Makes a Church a Church

    Photo Credit: White Church on the Hill
    Photo Credit: Theater in Ephesus

    Are There Temptations Stronger Than We Can Bear?

    Tempting Apple
    The problem with temptations is that they are so tempting.

    C. S. Lewis once wrote, “A silly idea is current that good people do not know what temptation means. This is an obvious lie. Only those who try to resist temptation know how strong it is…. A man who gives in to temptation after five minutes simply does not know what it would have been like an hour later. That is why bad people, in one sense, know very little about badness. They have lived a sheltered life by always giving in.”

    Regarding temptations, Paul wrote: ”…God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear.”

    So is Paul implying there exists temptations stronger than we can bear? Yes. But then you say, “Isn’t God always faithful to keep us from temptations too strong for us to handle?” Well… let’s look at an incident from the life of Simon Peter:

    At the Last Supper, Jesus told Simon, “Simon, Simon, Satan has asked to sift you all as wheat. But I have prayed for you, Simon, that your faith may not fail. And when you have returned to me, strengthen your brothers.” (Luke 22:31)

    Jesus knew that Simon would fail before it even happened. Jesus knows the future. But he also knew something good would come of it because failing breeds humility. And also, someone who has failed has a unique opportunity in the future of strengthening others.

    Continuing in Mark 14, Peter declared, “Even if all fall away, I will not. ‘I tell you the truth,’ Jesus answered, ‘today-yes, tonight-before the rooster crows twice you yourself will disown me three times.’ But Peter insisted emphatically, ‘Even if I have to die with you, I will never disown you.’”

    Did Simon get placed into a situation beyond what he could handle? Humanly, yes. But didn’t Paul say we wouldn’t be placed into a situation above what we could bear? Yes, but I believe with the caveat that it wouldn’t be us resisting, but the Spirit in us. The Spirit in us would lead us on the road out, as Paul goes on to explain in 1 Corinthians 10, “But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can stand up under it.”

    Was there a way out for Simon? Of course. Did he take it? Unfortunately, no. Why? I maintain he didn’t for the same reason he – in an earlier incident in his life – sank into the waves after having walked on water for several faltering steps: Because he took his eyes off Jesus. Because he stopped “walking in the Spirit,” as elsewhere Paul describes: “So I say, live by the Spirit, and you will not gratify the desires of the sinful nature. For the sinful nature desires what is contrary to the Spirit, and the Spirit what is contrary to the sinful nature. They are in conflict with each other, so that you do not do what you want. But if you are led by the Spirit, you are not under law.” (Galatians 5:16-18)

    One of the reasons I find the two epistles of Peter so fascinating is because we know of many antidotal stories regarding Peter from the Gospels. For instance, in light of what Jesus told Peter at the Last Supper (quoted above) we understand the following statements written by Peter with greater context:

    1 Peter 5:8-10, “Be self-controlled and alert. Your enemy the devil prowls around like a roaring lion looking for someone to devour. Resist him, standing firm in the faith, because you know that your brothers throughout the world are undergoing the same kind of sufferings.

    And the God of all grace, who called you to his eternal glory in Christ, after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.”

    The notion that there exists temptations too much for us is an idea which could also be inferred from a statement in the Lord’s Prayer. In telling us how to pray, Jesus said we were to ask the Father to, “…Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from the evil one.” (Matthew 6:13) For us who are so easiliy swayed by temptations, it is better we not even be led into a tempting situation!

    Isn’t it interesting that Jesus himself was tempted by the devil? In fact, it is even recorded he was led by the Spirit to be tempted (Matthew 4:1). Though Jesus did not succomb to the temptations, I think he knew when we are tempted things don’t often turn out as well. Therefore, we are told to pray to be spared from even being led into temptation.

    What then are we to say? James, Jesus’ earthly brother, sums things up well, “Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and he will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded. Grieve, mourn and wail. Change your laughter to mourning and your joy to gloom. Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will lift you up.” (James 4:7-10)

    Elders, Deacons, & Church Leadership

    How many leadership offices were there in the 1st century church? How were these offices appointed? What were the differences in duties and qualifications of these offices? And what’s more Biblical anyways: Pastors or Elders?

    These were only some of the questions we looked at in a recent Bible Study I attended on “Leadership Within the Local Church.”

    Going through the attached handout worksheet would help familiarize you with the primary verses in the Bible that discuss these issues.

  • “Leadership in the Local Church” – our Bible Study HandoutPDF FormatMS Word Format
  • Quotes on Church leadership from Polycarp, Clement, IgnatiusPDF FormatMS Word Format
  • Do I Have to Pay Attention at Church?

    So while listening to a sermon at church, is it ok to…

    …eat candy? (as long as it’s not crunchy?)
    …send text message? (as long as nobody notices?)
    …snuggle with my true love? (if nobody is behind me?)
    …sleep? (if it’s just during the prayers and other boring parts?)
    …slouch? (when my butt hurts too badly to sit up straight?)
    …study my Bible???

    mr bean trying to stay awake

    The last one is a bit sticky. I’ve been told it’s rude to have my own personal devotions while a speaker is delivering a message.

    “What if they bring it on themselves?” is what I ask. Like this morning, for example. The preacher encouraged us to read Psalms 145-150 because they were such incredibly great Psalms.

    “If they are such incredibly great Psalms, what prevents me from reading them now?” I wondered.

    He was right. They were good. In fact, good enough for a blog post. So here’s what I got – in a roundabout way – from the message this morning…

    First, we all know about Psalm 37:4, right? It says, “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.”

    Wonderful promise? But now, check out Psalm 145:

    “You open your hand and satisfy the desires of every living thing.” (Psalm 145:16)

    “He fulfills the desires of those who fear him; he hears their cry and saves them.” (Ps 145:19)

    Great, huH?

    Here’s another nugget I pulled from the Psalms (during the sermon). I think this verse delivers a wonderful definition of the word “faith”:

    “The LORD delights in those who fear him, who put their hope in his unfailing love.” (Ps 147:11)

    Isn’t “putting our hope in his unfailing love” exactly what faith is? And this is exactly what I struggle with so much: believing He really has my best in mind, believing any light and momentary afflictions I may go through are really for my best.

    I desire to please God. What pleases God is my faith (Heb 11:6). Faith is putting my hope in his unfailing love. His unfailing love wants to fulfill my desires. Whatta sermon.

    “For the Lord God is a sun and shield; the Lord bestows favor and honor; no good thing does he withhold from those whose walk is blameless. O Lord Almighty, blessed is the man who trusts in you.” (Psalms 84:11-12)

    Photo Credit: Mr. Bean Trying to Stay Awake

    Pulling the Plug – Three Month Update!

    Update Clipart Three months have passed since I canceled internet at my apartment. Yet lo and behold, I am still alive.

    Yes, it is a pain. But for me… it has been totally worth it. Though I do still have access at school and my parents house, there are many days I’m not online at all, even to check my e-mail! Though it was hard at first, strangely, I don’t miss it.

    Tasks now have to be planned in advance. I keep a running list of things I need to get done online, then do them the next time I have access. Not too surprisingly, when I do have interent access I still tend to burn through too much time and not be productive. Thankfully that is now more “sporadic” and less “lifestyle,” like it used to be.

    Even though my online time has taken a siginificant nosedive… I still don’t feel like I have much free time! Crazy. I wonder now where I ever found time to spend hours surfing the ‘net?

    One thing I have done a lot more over the last three months has been READING. I have read LOTs of books. And my Bible reading has gone up as well.

    In short: I feel more in control of this strange tool called the internet, less like it owns and controls me. So far there are no plans to go back.

    Pulling the Plug – Can I Live Without Internet at Home?

    Pulling the PlugI am officially without internet at my apartment now. I called COX Saturday and had them cancel my account. The representative asked me why. I tried to dismiss it with a nonchalant, “Well, you know, I have access other places.”

    “Man!” he said, “I just couldn’t live without the internet [at my home].”

    Well, I’m about to discover if I can’t either. I do have access at work (limited) and school (where I am now).

    Later, another COX representative called me and grilled me as to why I was quitting my service.

    Again I offered, “Um, well, I have access other places.”
    “Like at school?”
    “Yeah, and work, and my parents house. And stuff.” Gosh, nosy, nosy.
    “Well, I can understand you wanting to save some money…” she was feeling me out, then continued, “but really, there’s nothing like the convenience of having it in your own home where you can kick back, with your jammies on, and…”

    Did I just hear the cox rep tell me how she, “kicks back in her jammies…?!”

    “I know, it IS very convenient. In fact, that’s why I’m quitting my service. See, it’s not about finances at all, it’s that I think I spend too much time online and am trying to cut back.”

    Pause.

    “Well, I can respect that sir. But… I can’t understand it because I use it an awful lot myself.” Nervous chuckle. Then she proceeded to try offering me $5 off my monthly bill. (Take note those who want a discount on their internet bill!)

    I wasn’t swayed by her sales pitch and in the end she wished me well, “I hope you do better than I did at my inlaws recently where they had slow internet and I about went crazy!”

    Yeah, I hope so too.

    So I’ve asked myself, “How much access do I really need?” The only two reasons I could sorta justify were:

    • My graduate online class requires internet and
    • Keeping up with relationships via e-mail also requires internet.

    Everything else was want. Even Facebook. Even this blog…

    I frequently spend mucho time online and am hoping that cutting access at home will help curb that. Not that all my time online is a waste, I frequently read interesting Wikipedia articles and watch funny YouTube videos. Additionally, every time my computer receives an e-mail it dings at me which interrupts whatever else I’m doing. So I stop and go check who it’s from. What’s this, someone left another comment on a Facebook picture?

    I admit folks, for me the internet is a huge time stealer! I’ve even confessed as much in a previous post.

    The more I got to thinking about it all, the more I realized how much I would prefer to be spending my time on more worthwhile activities:

    Such as….. investing in people. But also simple activities like getting caught up on my book-reading list, having friends over for dinner, exercising, keeping my apartment tidy, developing an online video review website (ironically) or even coming up with a consistent meal plan for once in my life.

    Click Here to Read My 3 Month Update

    “Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.” (Heb 12:1)

    Photo Credit: Looking for an outlet…

    The Impact of Our Thought Lives

    sitting and thinking
    Perhaps you’ve heard the pithy ditty:

    “Sow a thought, reap an action.
    Sow an action, reap a habit.
    Sow a habit, reap your life.
    Sow your life, reap your destiny.”

    These days I’m becoming increasingly convinced of the truth behind that saying. Of course, Jesus made the same observation 2,000 years ago:

    “For out of the overflow of the heart the mouth speaks. The good man brings good things out of the good stored up in him, and the evil man brings evil things out of the evil stored up in him.” (Matthew 12:34-35)

    Below is a list of common things we sometimes struggle with…

    Not working on my homework (procrastination)?
         It won’t change until my thoughts change.
    Eating too much food (gluttony)?  
         It won’t change until my thoughts change.
    Not exercising regularly (laziness)? 
         It won’t change until my thoughts change.
    Being discontentment with life? (absence of faith)? 
         It won’t change until my thoughts change.
    Not keeping my eyes from wandering (lust)? 
         It won’t change until my thoughts change.
    Always desiring more and more (greed)? 
         It won’t change until my thoughts change.
    Exhibiting a lack of humility (pride)? 
         It won’t change until my thoughts change.
    Feeling lonely (discontentment)? 
         It won’t change until my thoughts change.
    

    I can say from personal experience that treating symptoms of my sin nature never works long because the problem is not the symptoms. Whenever I fall short of the glory of God, I always fall short in my thoughts first.

    “…each one is tempted when, by his own evil desire, he is dragged away and enticed. Then, after desire has conceived, it gives birth to sin; and sin, when it is full-grown, gives birth to death.”
    (James 1:14-15)

    So the battlefield for personal holiness is fought in our mind. In Biblical times our mind – or the seat of our emotions and will – was sometimes referred to our as our “heart.” With that in mind, I love the truth in this verse:

    “Above all else, guard your heart, for it is the wellspring of life.”
    (Proverbs 4:23)

    So we are to guard our hearts. What else are we to do?

    “We demolish arguments and every pretension that sets itself up against the knowledge of God, and we take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” (2 Cor 10:5)

    “Therefore, I urge you, brothers, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God–this is your spiritual act of worship. Do not conform any longer to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.”
    (Romans 12:1-2)

    Are we up to the challenge? Although the battle is bigger than us, we must struggle to hold our ground until the point of exhaustion.

    “Therefore put on the full armor of God, so that when the day of evil comes, you may be able to stand your ground, and after you have done everything, to stand.” (Eph 6:13)

    At the point where we can stand no more, God will intervene on our behalf.

    “Now it is God who makes both us and you stand firm in Christ.”
    (2 Cor 1:21)

    “…for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good purpose.” (Phil 2:13)

    And you know what? The stakes are high because at stake is our souls.

    “For if you live according to the sinful nature, you will die; but if by the Spirit you put to death the misdeeds of the body, you will live.” (Romans 8:13)

    Photo Credit: Thinking

    Are We Listening?

    It’s easy to talk. It’s harder to listen and I think even harder to ask good questions.
    Lady Listening Carefully

    As a Math Tutor in the public schools I am reminded over and over the importance of listening. A student asks me for help so I kneel next to him, look over the problem they’re struggling with and… immediately want to start talking. Instead, what I try forcing myself to do is ask, “What are you having trouble with?” After they’re done telling me I immediately want to start talking again!

    However, I’m finding it’s better to ask, “Explain to me what you’ve tried doing so far.” As they begin explaining I listen and pretty soon can usually spot the problem. Then guess what? I want to start telling them what they’re doing wrong!

    My interrupting and explaining isn’t best for their learning. They get a lot of lecture already. I’m convinced they need someone to ask good questions that challenge their thinking and force them to struggle to the point of either 1) self discovery or 2) entering a teachable mood. Spoon feeding only makes them hungry for more spoon feeding.

    Here’s the kicker: I find after I’ve listened and probed for awhile they usually do reach a teachable moment (if not self-discovery). At that point I can say something succinct and relevant that hits home with them. Then they lift their heads and say, “Aha! I get it!”

    So yes, there is a time and place for teaching. However, I still maintain there are many more times and places for asking questions and listening.

    Now think about Jesus: He knew everything and was the greatest teacher of all time. Did that mean he went around spouting off everything he knew all the time? No, he asked questions. These questions engaged His listeners. Then, when his listeners were in a teachable spirit he would tell them something.

    According to this interesting list, in the book of Matthew alone it’s recorded Jesus asked over 80 questions!

    Amazing. Convicting. Let’s ask more. Let’s listen more.

    James 1:19, “Take note of this: Everyone should be quick to listen, slow to speak…”

    Photo Credit: Speak up, sonnyboy!

    Too Small to Ignore – Community


    Dr. Wess Stafford writes, “…let’s consider the church, which we fondly refer to as ‘the family of God.’ It is a place meant for inclusion and nurture, we tell ourselves. Then why do the various ages scatter in opposite directions the minute we pull into the parking lot?” Wess admits the value in age-grade curriculum for targeting cognitive learning but counters with, “I just fear that the pendulum may have swung too far in that direction. Attitudes and behaviors are more powerful outcomes than mere cognitive knowledge.”

    Wess points out that oftentimes in church even adults are segregated: young adults, midlife years, seniors, etc. He concludes, “The word community is more than just a gray sociological descriptor. It is a God term, designed by the Creator…”

    My observation is that in times past the term community was nearly always attached to a geographic location. Nowadays, technology has removed that. Perhaps the most obvious example is transportation. For instance, I commute 15 miles to church twice a week. My automobile makes that possible. I find it sad that, by and large, I only see the people I worship with at church… at church! Same with my job. The community of people I spend time with at work I only see at work. We don’t live together, shop together, eat together, play together, or worship together.

    Technology has fragmented and stratified our relationships. The Internet is another good example. How easy is it to belong to a niche cyber community? There we can share our thoughts, opinions, hopes and dreams, all with strangers we know in no other context.

    Facebook has tapped into this desire for community in a unique fashion. Unlike other social networking sites, it allows users to have online connections with real-life associations (for the most part) rather than anonymous strangers.

    I just checked to see what my friends are up to on Facebook:

  • N. lost his wallet.
  • D. is engaged!
  • B’s son missed the bus.
  • M. has a sore throat.
  • C. watched Sense and Sensibility.

    So Facebook gives us a sense of community, but is it illusionary? I am now in touch with personal details of my friends lives, but is there not still a geographical and even relational chasm? I say relational because I learned these details of their lives by reading about them, not by hearing them communicated through a real live person.

    For instance, D. didn’t verbally tell me he was engaged. I didn’t even get the pleasure of hearing about it through a mutual friend who could have excitedly shared the news with me. Nope, I found out about it through black and white print on an impersonal computer screen.

    So what are some solutions to this lack of community? Recognition of the problem is a good start. Then, perhaps we can make conscious steps to overlap our relationships wherever possible. Could we attend a neighborhood church rather than commute 20 minutes? How about at work, is there a coworker who lives in our same neighborhood? If so, could we invite him over for dinner? Are there ways we could be spending time with church friends outside of church?

  • What’s for Lunch?

    Every morning in the High Schools I’m working in there are morning announcements broadcasted to all the students via intercom.

    Usually among the announcements a lunch menu for the day is given. Recently I heard one particularly un-appetizing sounding lunch menu, I forget what it was, something like burned lime flavored goulash delight with sides of broccoli and asparagus or something. Anyways, this particular day after the cafeteria menu was given the announcer stopped talking and there was a dramatic pause.

    Then in a low voice he said, “…but as for ME… I’m thinking Arby’s.”

    That really cracked me up. I wonder how many students went to Arby’s that day? I know I was tempted to!

    Not Being a Hypocrite

    Sermon On the Mount Study

    Lesson 7 from Matthew 6:1-6, 16-18

    Here is the question this weeks’ study starts off with: “Which of my words or actions might a person find hypocritical?” For me, reflecting on that question is convicting.

    Jesus says we are not to:

  • do our acts of righteousness before men, to be seen by them
  • announce our giving to the needy with trumpets to be honored by men, as the hypocrites do
  • pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by men
  • look somber when we fast, as the hypocrites do

    What reward does our pride desire from doing something “good”? Seems to me it wants recognition and praise from those around us.

    What reward should we want? Favor from God alone, our heavenly Father.

    The four phrases describing why the hypocrites do what they do are: 1) To be seen by men, 2) to be honored by men, 3) to be seen by men and 4) to show men.

    What happens when we get all this attention? It pleases us. So our reward then is our personal pleasure.

    My study book points out we shouldn’t get absorbed in the mechanics of secrecy, it’s the heart of the matter Jesus is getting to. The point isn’t that we can never pray in public or that a fast becomes pointless if someone knows about it (like your wife, who wonders why you aren’t eating supper). The point is we are to be behaving in such a manner as to gain favor from God, not to please ourselves. This goes against the instant gratification we desire.

    Incidentally, we will be rewarded by God for that type of attitude. Doesn’t it seem like everything Jesus taught is 180 degrees from conventional wisdom?

  • Labor Day: Weather & Prayer

    Labor Day Forecast 2009

    Earlier this week, a friend of mine and I specifically prayed it wouldn’t rain over Labor Day. At the time we prayed, the weather forecasters were predicting scattered thunderstorms all weekend.

    We wanted to take a couple guys out camping on my big boat (before it sells) Sunday night and couldn’t do that if there was any chance of lightning. Now, I know it’s debatable whether we should pray for “luxury wants” like good weather for yachting when there are other people in the world with real needs (such as food because they are starving). But we did anyways.

    Sooo, today is Saturday… and guess what? All predictions for rain are gone! In fact, I just saw an article in our local paper stating the weather this Labor Day is shaping up to be exceptionally ideal.

    So God answered our prayer with a “yes.” Here are some excerpts from the article:

    “In years to come, camping lovers and local lake managers may look back at 2009 as the year Labor Day weekend was as good as it gets…”

    “[This weekend will be] ideal weather for camping, with cool nights and warm, dry days. Lakes at good levels. Lush grounds.”

    “It’s perfect camping weather. You can’t beat it,” Lake Afton park manager Mark Sroufe said.

    And meteorologist Chris Jakub from the National Weather Service had this to say,“It’s pretty ideal, really.”

    Finding Home

    The book Finding Home: An Imperfect Path to Faith and Family is primarily about Jim Daly’s young life. It’s not until pg. 173 he even turns thirteen years old. However, he sure went through the ringer as a kid!

    The part of his story which was most winsome to me was the day his mother died:

      “To say I had been unprepared for the events of that day would be a gross understatement. It’s as if the instant I got up that morning, I’d been swept away by a whirlwind of chaos. Seeing my dead mother’s body. Watching my siblings cry. Standing by the grave… Coming home to an empty house. Discovering that Hank had sold everything – and left us with nothing. Mike preparing to leave. Getting the news that Aunt Penny’s husband was dying… I hit rock bottom. I couldn’t handle another thing. I was officially an orphan without a place to live or food to eat.” (pg 85)

    Later that night Jim’s brother Mike left to go back to the Navy: “After Mike left for his ship, Dave, Dee Dee, Kim, and I made the best of our circumstances and settled in for the night. We huddled together on the carpeted floor in the living room. We had no pillows or blankets to pull over us…” (pg 90)

    Reading through that account left an ache in my heart. I tried imagining what it would be like to, on the same day my mother died, also have my crazy step-father abandon me. No role model or authority figure left to hug me and say, “Don’t worry, everything will be allright.” Then also on the same day, my idolized brother leaves: back to war, to Vietnam. Lastly, imagining the curtain of a day like that closing, finality setting in, and in place of comfort instead being left in an empty house to sleep on a hard floor. Makes me hurt for the poor guy!

    Besides the drama of the story, here are a few things I took from the book:

    First, once again, a reminder of the dead end road alcohol leads. For Jim’s dad, the “bottle” took him down a long path of pain, separation from his wife and family, guilt and regret beyond description, and eventually an ignominious death in an abandoned laundromat. Incredibly sad.

    Another thing that struck me from the book was the deep seated need Jim had for positive role models: particularly male. As a youngster Jim grasped at every potential straw. Because they cared, some of his teachers – especially his karate instructor and football coach – were influential. This was encouraging to me as I’ll be working closely with a number of young people this semester. Who knows? Maybe I’ll have the opportunity to invest in someone going through a rotten situation like Jim’s. Only God can change lives, but isn’t it exciting to know we can be a vehicle for showing God’s love to others?

    While reading the book I sometimes wished he would have shared more what he was “thinking” in the midst of all his crazy experiences. I’ll give it to him though that as a kid he was most likely more concerned with “reacting and surviving” than “thinking.”

    Towards the end, Jim did give some reflections. I suppose that sometimes it can be too difficult to relate what we are feeling and thinking and maybe it is… just enough that we learn something. I think Jim learned some things:

      “…I can say with certainty, God is near to those who hurt… Being broken is very real to me. I think it’s a good state for the human heart to be in – at least for a season. I’ve found that when I am broken, I can finally understand how totally dependent I am on God.”

      “…If I were to take what they did to me and drag it around like a ball and chain of resentment, guess who would still be in jail? Me. But, as I forgive them and when I don’t attempt to ‘own’ any of the destructive decisions or actions they made toward me, then I’m free. I don’t have to live my life peering into the rearview mirror. In fact, I feel stronger when I release what was done to me. How? The space in my heart that had been preoccupied with anger or hurt can be set aside to make room for a joy and a peace that makes no sense whatsoever -because God promises that gift to the brokenhearted.”

    Did you notice Jim’s story was the story of a victim treated badly? As a victim, God has given Jim the ability to forgive and move on. In fact, God has become a Father to Jim in the place of his own. However, I noticed there wasn’t a whole lot in the book about Jim as the sinner, needing salvation from himself.

    It’s always much worse to be a perpetrator than a victim. Nick the victim turns to God asking for deliverance. Nick the perpetrator turns to God in shame and asks for forgiveness. Nick the “one man army” always falls flat on his face! When I’m treated badly, it hurts… but when I’m humbled due to my own selfish decisions, it hurts even worse. Every day I’m convinced once again I need God to save me from myself.

    Putting My Boat Up For Sale

    Books, I’ve got tons of them. Clothes, I have too many. Doo-dads, knick-knacks, STUFF, STUFF, STUFF!

    I… Must…. Simplify…


    Speaking of which… I have a 22′ foot sailboat which I feel is a chain around my neck.

    It always needs a little work but since it’s stored 30 minutes away from my apartment at the lake, that’s sometimes hard to do.

    I have had a lot of fun with the boat, primarily the camping aspect. I haven’t found it to be as exciting to sail though as a smaller, more lively boat.

    There are fees associated with owning a boat. For the first two years I kept it at a sailing marina which cost me $1,000/year. That’s $83/month. Just for storage.

    This past year I have kept it in dry storage at a less expensive boat marina for only $30/month. Still, there’s also insurance ($131/year), taxes, maintenance, etc.

    To make a long story short: it was fun, but it’s gotta go!

    (update: the boat sold, the ad is here.)

    In other news, I have sold a few other things recently:

  • I listed 8 books for sale on Amazon, two have already sold and I’ve shipped them
  • I listed a rifle scope on Amazon and it has already sold and shipped
  • I listed my Dave Ramsey Financial Peace CD Collection on eBay, it’s already up to $22
  • I listed my BlueTooth headset on eBay, no bids yet
  • I was going to list computer memory and tennis rackets but they weren’t worth anything so I threw them away
  • I culled my clothes and gave two full trash bags worth away
  • Guy Girl Relationship Advice, Best of Boundless

    If you’re a single and not familiar with Focus on the Family’s Boundless Webzine, you might find it interesting. Unfortunately, the quality seems to have gone down a bit over the years, but the subject matter is interesting, mostly focusing on relational issues.

    Having said that, the Boundless team recently compiled together (from their library of articles) the best of their guy/girl information and wisdom. It is in the form of two free e-books.

    I recommend them:

    A Guy’s Guide to Marrying Well
    A Girl’s Guide to Marrying Well

    Fellowship of the Unashamed

    charging lego pep talk jousting
    I just ran across this “pep talk”. It is really inspirational. It is attributed to Bob Moorehead, former pastor of Overlake Christian Church in Seattle. Ironically and unfortunately, Moorehead stepped down in 1998 due to the surfacing allegations of improper sexual conduct. Who knows if the allegations were true or not.

    Regardless, this should get you razzed up!

    I am a part of the fellowship of the Unashamed. The die has been cast. I have stepped over the line. The decision has been made. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ.

    I won’t look back, let up, slow down, back away, or be still. My past is redeemed, my present makes sense, and my future is secure.

    I am finished and done with low living, sight walking, small planning, smooth knees, colorless dreams, tame visions, mundane talking, chintzy giving, and dwarfed goals.

    I no longer need preeminence, prosperity, position, promotions, plaudits, or popularity. I don’t have to be right, first, tops, recognized, praised, regarded, or rewarded. I now live by presence, learn by faith, love by patience, lift by prayer, and labor by power.

    My pace is set, my gait is fast, my goal is Heaven, my road is narrow, my way is rough, my companions few, my Guide is reliable, my mission is clear.

    I cannot be bought, compromised, deterred, lured away, turned back, diluted, or delayed. I will not flinch in the face of sacrifice, hesitate in the presence of adversity, negotiate at the table of the enemy, ponder at the pool of popularity, or meander in the maze of mediocrity.

    I won’t give up, back up, let up, or shut up until I’ve preached up, prayed up, paid up, stored up, and stayed up for the cause of Christ. I am a disciple of Jesus Christ. I must go until He returns, give until I drop, preach until all know, and work until He comes.

    And when He comes to get His own, He will have no problem recognizing me. My colors will be clear for, “I am not ashamed of the Gospel, because it is the power of God for the salvation of everyone who believes..” (Romans 1:16)

    Photo Credit: It is not this day!

    Yohannan

    Children

    I have just stumbled upon a Follower of Jesus: K.P. Yohannan. I just listened to a message he gave titled To Live is Christ (located here). It was convicting.

    “When was the last time you made a pact to say: We will live as strangers and pilgrims on this earth, with sacrifice, and commitment, and tears, and fasting…? and TOUCH the lost world with our lifestyle and commitment?” (K.P. Yohannan – Founder of Gospel for Asia)

    Incidentally, Gospel for Asia’s website has lots of great free resources (online books, messages, videos, etc). Check it out. Watch the video under “sponser a child”.

    Right now they are offering the book “Revolution” for free here.

    Photo Credit: Triangle of Children

    Hard Pressed on Every Side

    “All right, they’re on our left, they’re on our right, they’re in front of
    us, they’re behind us…they can’t get away this time!”

    -Lewis B. “Chesty” Puller

    “We’re surrounded. That simplifies the problem.”
    -Lewis B. “Chesty” Puller

    “Hard pressed on my right. My center is yielding. Impossible to maneuver. Situation excellent. I am attacking.”
    -Ferdinand Foch, at the Battle of the Marne

    “We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body…

    Therefore we do not lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, yet inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us an eternal glory that far outweighs them all. So we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal.” (Paul, 2 Corinthians 4:8-18)

    Things Happen When You Do Something


    I’ve noticed nothing usually happens unless I go do something. Then something happens. Not always something BIG, but usually something interesting.

    Case in point, I just got back from a relaxing bike ride. I needed the fresh air and not much was happening here at the ol’ apartment (except for school, and how fun is that?)

    While biking through one neighborhood I came across three elementary school age boys who were riding their bikes up and down their street. They were pretty excited to see another fellow cyclist and as I passed by they showed off some of their “tricks.” They could ride with no hands. They could ride standing with no hands. They could pull their back tires off the ground. They were good. It reminded me of when I was their age and spent countless hours practicing my bike techniques.

    It was an absolutely beautiful day… Cloudy, misty, cool.

    Moving on with my story… later in my bicycle adventures I found myself moseying through a lazy neighborhood with ponderous trees spanning the road. Moist leaves lightly falling across my path, it was quite idyllic. As I approached one particular intersection – VROOOM! this crazy SUV flies up behind me, screeching to a halt right before a stop sign. He got way too close for comfort though I had been keeping an eye on him and wasn’t in danger of getting hit.

    “Watch it bud,” I thought, as I coasted through the neighborhood intersection minding my own business. Honk! Honk! The guy in the SUV was waving at me to come over to him. I rode back and saw he was a police officer in uniform. He wasn’t happy. I know this is an over generalization, but really, have you ever seen a happy police officer? I wondered what he wanted but didn’t have to wait long to find out. I got the second degree for not having come to a full, complete stop at the stop sign. Did I think I was exempt from traffic regulations just because I was on a bicycle? Did I WANT to get hit by a car? How would I feel if I WERE hit by a car? I appreciated his concern for my safety but felt he was blowing the situation out of proportion.

    I felt like saying, “Look bud, let’s make a deal. You don’t run into me with your SUV and I won’t run into you with my bicycle. And please, quit driving like you own the entire road and we won’t have any more problems.” Of course I didn’t say that but rather just smiled and said, “Yeah, I wouldn’t like it if I got hit.”

    He glowered at me and said he’d let it go this time as a warning. I was surprised he didn’t get onto me for not wearing a helmet or for not having my bicycle registered. Also, my aging bike doesn’t shift into the low gears very well, that’s probably a violation too.

    Anyways, as I ambled on down the road, once more lost in contemplation, I thought about the difference between the young boys who were still excited about life and enamored with the wonder of their bicycles versus the gruff old police officer who seemed to be low on joy and appreciativeness for the simple pleasures in life. I know! he was CONCERNED about my safety. But honestly, “safety shmafety”! I was paying attention and wasn’t bothering nobody. Look, I’ve been riding a bicycle for many moons and have never been hit by a car! And only once have I ran into a car. And the car wasn’t even moving, it was parked.

    Unfortunately, I’m afraid I often lean more toward having the attitude of the serious police officer instead of sharing the joyfulness of youth. I’ve been told I’m too serious.

    Here’s what Jesus had to say about it: “And he said: ‘I tell you the truth, unless you change and become like little children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.’” (Matthew 18:3)

    So in conclusion, I went out and did something and something happened: I met some nice kids and got pulled over by a policeman.

    Photo Credit: Bicycle route sign

    Some Motivation From Rocky Balboa

    So this isn’t an overly religous quote, but it spoke to me:

    “It ain’t about how hard you hit. It’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward — how much you can take and keep moving forward. That’s how winning is done. Now, if you know what you’re worth, then go out and get what you’re worth, but you gotta be willing to take the hits.”
    -Rocky Balboa

    “Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me.” (Philippians 3:12)

    Photo Credit: Rocky Balboa

    The Fine Art of Procrastination

    Last week my professor informed our class of a large assignment that would soon be due. I clearly recall her sternly warning us all, “Now don’t wait until the night before to start on this project because it’s going to take longer than that!”

    Well, I took her words to heart. I followed her advice and didn’t wait until the night before to start like she advised. Unfortunately, I actually started even later than that… I started the morning it was due. And class starts at 9:50 AM!

    Nevertheless, against all odds and despite her nay saying, I still got it done in time (submitted it online before class started). My final product was a seven page paper. We’ll see what grade I get. Nothing like running things down to the wire though to cause a little heartburn.

    I guess it’s like my older brother Seth says, “If you wait until the last minute to do something, it only takes a minute to do.” When my Dad hears that, he likes to wryly remark, “And it only takes a minute to grade too.” We’ll see.

    In my defense, I had been thinking about the assignment beforehand so some of the “brainwork” was already done.

    But I wonder, why is it human nature (well, at least MY nature) to procrastinate? Why is time management so hard?

    Photo Credit: Procastination Cat

    UPDATE: July 27th

    I just got my grade back on this paper. I received an A. I guess I pulled the wool over her eyes.

    UPDATE #2: November 16th

    Boundless had a relevant post here on procrastination: Craving Crisis

    A Piece of Advice From a Cancer Survivor

    In my post yesterday on being late to class I mentioned I had to give a presentation for school. The topic I was assigned to discuss was children diagnosed with malignant cancer. I was supposed to address specific issues or concerns teachers might face or at least need to be aware of while instructing said students.

    At the end of my presentation I asked the class if anyone was a cancer survivor. One man, Matt (not his real name) raised his hand. I asked Matt if he had any special advice for the rest of the class on how we could appropriately interact with people who had cancer. Matt then took the floor for a few minutes and held everyone spellbound. It definitely brought some life to my boring presentation and woke everyone up.

    In case you’re curious, one thing Matt said we should do was to just listen and empathize instead of launching into personal stories we may know of others who had cancer. He said that hearing second hand stories of other cancer patients never helped him feel better. In fact, Matt said when people would do that it made him feel like they considered themselves a cancer expert (because of the stories they knew) when in reality he didn’t feel like they understood what he was going through at all.

    Matt pointed out too that all cancer stories have one of two endings: Either the person survived or died. In his opinion neither outcome was very comforting and here’s why:

    Obviously the stories where the patient died was not very comforting. But the survivor stories weren’t comforting to him either because he felt they implied the individual who survived was especially tough or somehow super human. And Matt said (I’m paraphrasing) he didn’t feel that tough or super human while going through cancer treatments. And wouldn’t that imply he might not make it?

    It seems to me that a lot of being “Christ-like” is true humility, thinking about others, putting ourselves last, genuinely caring, and keeping our mouths shut. (All things I don’t do well!)

    I love what C.S. Lewis had to say about humble people in his book Mere Christianity:

         "Do not imagine that if you meet a really humble man he will
         be what most people call "humble" nowadays: he will not be
         a sort of greasy, smarmy person, who is always telling you
         that, of course, he is nobody.  Probably all you will  think 
         about him is that he seemed a cheerful, intelligent chap who
         took a real interest in what you said  to him. If you do dislike
         him it will be because you feel a little envious of anyone who 
         seems to enjoy life so easily. He will not be thinking about 
         humility:  he will not be  thinking about himself at all."
    Photo Credit: Advice

    That’s the Story of My Life – A Day Late and a Dollar Short

    So how do I respond when things aren’t going as planned? This morning I got to find out.

    Here was the problem: I needed to print thirty handouts for a presentation I was scheduled to deliver this morning in my college summer class. The class started at 7:30am.

    On this particular project I had procrastinated so long I was still scrambling to finish up last minute details 5am this morning. Everything was done except for the 30 double-sided Fact Sheets I needed to print out.

    Would you know it? My printer got through several and then ran out of ink. Not good news. I was a little peeved but quickly came up with an alternate plan.

    Here was Plan B: drop by my parents’ house on the way to school and print the remainder using their printer. Good plan, right?

    I breezed into my folks house at the crack o’ dawn. They were still asleep. Slipping downstairs to the computer I had to get down on my hands and knees and crawl under their computer desk to access the awkwardly placed USB port. I was in such a hurry that I accidentally tipped the computer over on its side. No big deal, right?

    Wrong. My parents’ computer crashed. Cold. I tried turning it on and off several times. It would try to boot, but then die with a gasp of its jet-powered sounding fans.

    Drat. Foiled again.

    Time for Plan C: Use my parents’ printer with my laptop. That should work. Uh-oh, I didn’t have the correct printer drivers. Well, perhaps I could download said drivers off the internet? After some travail I got an internet connection, found the drivers on the HP website, downloaded them, installed them, and… their printer still wouldn’t recognize my laptop.

    The hands of the clock now stood at 7:31. Class started one minute ago. Time was ticking Cinderella. Quite disgusted, disgruntled, sour and perturbed I flew out of my parents’ house, hopped in my drag car (i.e. aging Jeep) and headed to school.

    I think at this point I had forgotten all about the verse:

    “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God.” (Phil 4:6)

    To my credit, I didn’t speed. At least not by much. But I didn’t pray either. Instead I stewed and thought, “This is ridiculous! Failure on a triple redundant magnitude!”

    Maybe another reason I didn’t pray was because I realized I didn’t have much of a leg to stand on. If I hadn’t procrastinated until the last minute I wouldn’t have been in such a fix.

    Plan D. The computer lab closest to my classroom in the Education building. Surely it would have a printer I could use. 7:50 found me standing in front of the doors to the computer lab. The closed doors to the computer lab. The closed, LOCKED doors to the computer lab. The sign informed me it didn’t open until 8 o’clock, ten minutes away.

    Plan E. The printers in the library… clear across campus. Hike, hike, hike. Nope, the library was closed too. What about the 24-hour study room? Yes, one aging printer! Perhpas it would work?

    One final detail: I wanted to print these Fact Sheets off on spiffy green paper I had brought with me. But what was this? The paper tray on the crazy old printers was padlocked shut!?? How was I going to get an A on the assignment if my Fact Sheets were printed on boring, plain old ordinary white paper? NO! They must be printed on eye-catching neon green paper. It was the only way to guarantee success.

    Then I spied a copy machine that didn’t have locked paper trays. Yesss. Insert green colored paper.

    Ooops, that was upside down. Ooops, that was the wrong side. Allright, that’s what I want. Print 30 of those suckers. What’s this? Why is the copier spitting out long paper rolls of goobered inky nastiness?

    I take my seat in class. Fifty minutes late. Fortunately, I’ve arrived in the Nick of time, only moments before my turn to present.

    Yes, now it’s my turn. After first handing out my Fact Sheets (printed on eye-catching green paper) I calmly deliver my presentation. We’ll see what grade I get. The green paper had better of helped.

    So to answer my original question, “How do I respond when things aren’t going as planned?” I would say poorly at first, then better. When my printer ran out of ink at my apartment I was filled with malaise and a sense of impending doom. Then at my parents house when their computer crashed I got irritated. Like, really irritated. Ok, like, well, REALLY irritated.

    However, by the time I was at school standing in front of the locked computer lab doors I was finding the situation nearly comical. Nearly. But hey, it all worked out in the end, right? Just like Paul said,

    “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Rom 8:28)

    Photo Credit 1: Are We Running Out Of Time?
    Photo Credit 2: Getting There On Time

    Crazy Love Part 2

    continued from Crazy Love, Part 1

    “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” (Luke 12:15)

    I personally own a lot of stuff. If I were to count up every single material possession I own, the list would be extraordinary. It would take several days just to make the list I’m sure.

    For example, glancing into my closet just now reveals I own about ten pairs of shoes. Soccer shoes, jogging shoes, three pairs of dress shoes, cowboy boots, hiking boots, sandals, cleats, etc.

    I’m sure you’re familiar with the “Parable of the Soils.” In regards to that parable, Chan had this to say:

    “I think most American churchgoers are the soil that chokes the seed because of all the thorns. Thorns are anything that distracts us from God. When we want God and a bunch of other stuff, then that means we have thorns in our soil. A relationship with God simply cannot grow when money, sins, activities, favorite sports teams, addictions, or commitments are piled on top of it.

    Most of us have too much in our lives. …A lot of things are good by themselves, but all of it together keeps us from living healthy, fruitful lives for God.”

    Does the stuff I own weigh me down? Do I own more than I need? Is my stuff really poison to me like Chan suggests? Perhaps, though I think the stuff which requires my time to maintain is more poisonous to me than the possessions which just sit around waiting to be used. Time wasters are real poison.

    My biggest time waster is probably computers and the internet. Sometimes I wonder if I should just get rid of my internet connection… (which I eventually did) Thankfully I don’t have a TV.

    One thing I do try is to consider my possessions tools that can be used for helping others. Maybe the important thing to strive for is an attitude of contentment, not greed.

    Mental Health & Weighted Jackets

    I learned in this education class I’m currently taking that children suffering from certain mental issues (such as autism) can benefit from wearing a “weighted vest” or sleeping under a “weighted blanket.” This gives them what is called Deep Pressure Touch Stimulation (DPTS).

    Ok, got it: Autistic kids can find comfort in the touch stimulus provided by weighted clothing and blankets.

    Now read this about autism:

    “Autistic children and adults don’t like being touched, they might not like certain textures or sounds, they might cover their ears at very loud noises, they tend to blank out certain things…” (What is Autism?)

    Isn’t it interesting how those suffering from autism frequently are uncomfortable with human touch and yet still benefit from the touch stimulus of a weighted jacket or blanket?

    I got to thinking, “Isn’t that how I frequently am toward God?” Recoiling from being touched and molded by the master creator of the universe? The one who molded me into existence? And don’t I frequently try finding fulfillment in things of this world: in hobbies, in gaining accolades from others, in relationships with people who will disappoint, in being a good person?

    Yet how many times do these “replacements” leave me cold and empty inside? God is the only one who can breathe warmth and joy and fulfillment into my being. His Holy Spirit can produce the Fruits of the Spirit in my life. He can and will do that. That is, if I only allow him to “touch” me.

    Photo Credit: publik15

    Crazy Love Part 1

    Recently I read Crazy Love: Overwhelmed by a Relentless God by Francis Chan. In fact, I read it twice. Chan defined who this book was written for in his Preface:

      “This book is written for those who want more of Jesus. It is for those who are bored with what American Christianity offers. It is for those who don’t want to plateau, those who would rather die before their convictions do.”

    The website crazylovebook.com has video clips of Chan covering the main points of his book. They’re free to watch, you don’t even have to register… so if you don’t have time to read the book, check them out!

    The first section begins with a look at the attributes of God – specifically God’s Crazy Love for us – with the goal of bringing the reader to a point of standing in awe at just how amazing and generous God is towards us.

    Then Chan turns a corner and takes a hard look at the certainty of death and how we frequently live as if we’ll be on Earth forever. Chan quotes Frederick Beuchner,

      “Intellectually we all know that we will die, but we do not really know it in the sense that the knowledge becomes a part of us. We do not really know it in the sense of living as though it were true. On the contrary, we tend to live as though our lives would go on forever.”

    At the end of the discussion on our mortality, Chan concludes, “The truth is, some people waste their lives. This isn’t meant to bash those who are gone, but rather to warn those who are alive.” Blunt, but true.

    The next two chapters are titled, “Profile of the Lukewarm” & “Serving Leftovers to a Holy God.” These are meant to be a critical look at how shallow oftentimes many of us are in our relationship with the God whom we profess to be Lord of our Lives. Shouldn’t our lives be marked with an all-consuming devotion? Isn’t this what Jesus himself meant when he said, “Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind”? (Luke 10:27)

    Chan then briefly touches on the importance of having an eternal focus – particularly storing up treasures in heaven, not on earth – before moving into a bulleted list of items he calls, “Profile of the Obsessed.” These include having a giving attitude, being concerned more about character than comfort, and thinking about heaven frequently.

    A number of inspirational true life stories are then shared of people who were truly sold out for God. George Mueller was the one most inspiring to me.

    At the end of the book Chan concludes,

      “I wrote this book because much of our talk doesn’t match our lives. We say things like, ‘I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me,’ and ‘Trust in the Lord with all your heart.’ Then we live and plan like we don’t believe God even exists. We try to set our lives up so everything will be fine even if God doesn’t come through. But true faith means holding nothing back. It means putting every hope in God’s fidelity to his promises.”

    Maybe the single biggest thing I took from this book was the challenge to put myself more in situations that require total faith, where I have no “backup plan” if God were to not come through.

    continue on to Crazy Love, Part 2

    Summertime… Hip hip hoorah!

    Contemplating over a California Sunset
    Me in California, I just got back last weekend

    It is now officially summertime. At least in my book. And this means… lots of free time. For the next month all I have going is one college class that meets daily from 7:30am to 9:10am. I have to get up early but then most of my day is unscheduled.

    Today is the second day of my class. Tuesday.

    Two days ago I got home from a whirlwind 17 day “Western American Tour” trip. I visited both my brothers. They live in Oregon and California, respectively. I helped my oldest brother drive a car he had bought in Phoenix to his home in Oregon. That would be a 1700 mile drive in an antique Ford. Then I spent a week in Colorado doing maintenance work at Deer Creek Christian camp (Located right next to the well known camp ID-RA-HA-JE).

    It was a great vacation but there’s no place like home and I’m glad to be back.

    So yeah, the third day of summer. I’ll admit, today I’m feeling a little blue. I shouldn’t be. Right now I could be doing anything I want. Heck, I haven’t had this much free time in years! Many, many years. Incredible. There are advantages to quitting your job and going back to school.

    I guess I need to get busy setting some summer goals and working on them! I know summer will be over before I know it.

    First day of Graduate School

    Today I began my first day of class as a graduate student. I am currently enrolled in a “Master of Arts in Teaching” degree. Don’t ask.

    As typical for the first day of any course the instructor started with an icebreaker activity. It went like this, each student was supposed to share two things. First, his teaching emphasis (English, Art, Science, etc) and second, something unique about himself.

    Since I arrived to class ten minutes late I missed the responses of students with last names between A through L.

    Yeah, I arrived late. Granted, it’s bad manners to arrive late, especially on the very first day. But what can I say? How am I supposed to have my alarm clock calibrated the first day? Besides, it was as I suspected, I didn’t miss anything important.

    I digress, back to the icebreaker. When people are put on the spot one never knows what they will say. For her unique attribute, one girl suggested she was most likely the only person in the class who had double vision in both eyes. I figured she was probably right.

    I sympathized with her as I too have double vision, just not in both eyes. In my case each eye registers one image but because my brain doesn’t overlap them correctly I end up seeing two images. Luckily for me I’m able to mentally push the “cut line” over toward my peripheral and thus just use one eye (single vision) on whatever I want to focus on. Wierd, huh?

    But our instructor, an elderly woman named Judy, gushed in a shocked voice, “So you see two of me?”

    Now, admittedly, I’m not the brightest bulb going but by my reckoning if someone had double vision in both eyes they would see four of everything, not two. To my relief the girl quickly corrected our teacher, “No, not two of you. I see eight of you.”

    Somewhere deep in my subconscious a fuse blew. Wouldn’t that be two-eyed quadruple vision? And you’re sitting on the back row!? Maybe distance helped her get it all sorted out.

    To substantiate her claim she added, “It’s been medically tested and proven.”

    “I wonder how they test that,” I thought. I visualized her eye doctor holding up ten fingers and asking, “How many am I holding up?” Long pause. “Eighty?”

    I was glad she was already off the road when I had been driving to class. Mental note to self, arriving late could save my life.

    Then it was the turn of the thin young man to my left who was sporting an Abraham Lincoln-like beard. Settling back deep in his chair he started wagging out an interesting address,

         “Well, I have been told I have a fine balance between
          the right and left sided hemispheres of my brain.  I 
          believe this is collaborated by the evidence that I have
          an electrical engineering degree yet am also an amateur 
          painter and song-writer.  I also study philosophy.  In fact, 
          (here he chuckled quietly to himself) let me tell you that 
          as an undergraduate student my advisor had to pull me 
          out of several philosophy classes because I was taking 
          them too seriously.”  

    Abruptly, he finished. My concrete-sequential-grey-matter struggled to decide which of the two ice-breaker questions he had answered. Probably the second. Was his unique attribute his brain? Well, one thing was unique: the linkage ‘twixt his brain and mouth.

    Photo Credit: Q Anya

    Arizona Desert

    Southwest from out My Car Window
    The American Southwest from out My Car Window

    Arizona. Phoenix. Hot. Very hot. I just checked the temperature: 101 degrees.

    Fortunately our car has a strong air conditioner. Even though the air temperature in the vehicle is cool, my skin still feels like it is crawling. It must be the radiant heat. UV rays. My face feels flushed and my arms are becoming sun burnt.

    Interestingly, many businesses here are named after something related with the sun. I saw a Sun Mart gas station. Phoenix is in the Sun Valley. T-Shirts in the airport souvenir shops had emblems of the sun on them. Including the one I bought. Which I’m currently wearing. Which the back of is already soaked with sweat.

    So how about the scenery? We’ve been driving West from Phoenix several hours now and Luke just commented that it was kind of demoralizing. Mile after mile of sage brush, dirt, and cactus. Did I mention the sun?

    This would be a bad place to have car problems. Fortunately every mile along the side of the highway are nifty kiosk “call boxes”. I have never seen these before.

    For some reason – which I can’t seem to recall at the present moment – we had previously made plans to spend tonight tent camping in this forbidding waste land. Joshua Tree National Park had sounded like a quaint and attractive place to camp. At least from the comfort of my air conditioned apartment. The rules are that primitive camping is allowed so long as the brave soul is at least one mile from any roads or trails. Peering out the dust tinted window I wonder if walking one mile from my vehicle into this cauldron of desolation is somehow ominously synonymous to a death wish.

    Update #1: Later

    yeah, we survived

    Update #2: October 2010

    This poor hiker got lost in Joshua Tree Park for 6 days, but fortunately was finally rescued.

    However, this hiker from Georgia did not make it. He went to Josua Tree hiking alone and never came back… His car was found, but he never was.

    Did I Just Eat an Entire Pizza?

    An Entire Pizza

    Let me share with you something quite personal… for the last week or two I have had an incredible craving for pizza.

    Yesterday morning I left for work before 7am and didn’t return to my apartment until 10pm. Driving home I had the bright idea to order a pizza from Papa Johns. Being the type of person to act on my ideas, that’s what I did.

    When I got back to my apartment I ate the entire Medium Green Pepper pizza in one sitting. It was quite good. 1600 calories and 64 grams of fat good. Plus 150% of my sodium intake for the day… not to mention I added salt to every slice. (Wonder what my blood pressure was afterwards?)

    Anyways, it got me thinking I should do with Papa Johns like what Jared did for Subway. How much weight would I lose if I only ate one medium green pepper pizza per day?

    And just think, all those green peppers would be giving me a steady intake of vegetables. In fact, I’d be getting something from all the main food groups: Dairy, Carbs, Veggies, and Grease. That’s all of them, right?

    No, I missed the Dessert food group. But I could supplement that.

    Photo Credit: A Landry

    Is Teaching Supposed to be This Hard?

    delinquent police deptSome of my students are very difficult to deal with (er… instruct).

    Since I haven’t been a teacher long my first reaction is, “Well, this all must be because of me, I must be the problem.” So I try to be nicer, more accomadating, more helpful, and more patient.

    And then I find out they’re having problems in other classes too. Or in some cases, with the law. For instance, one of my more difficult students just got incarcerated. And another – who was also quite trying – just got expelled for gang fighting.

    So I guess I’m learning maybe it’s not all my fault. I’m just not used to working with kids who “act out” to the extent some of these do.

    Does that mean I should be less patient or less kind with these “problem” kids? Naw, of course not. But it does make me less likely to cut them slack. They need discipline somewhere in their lives and my classroom is a good place to start.

    Also… I’ve been amazed at how quickly and dramatically a few rough characters can bring down their peers. The negative influence of even one rebellious student is highly infectious. I never would have believed how poisionous to a classroom a rotten attitude is if I hadn’t seen it first hand.

    I’m learning you can’t accomadate their behaviour, you have to CRACK DOWN on it. It’s best for everyone.

    Like Dr. Seuss says, “Now my troubles are going to have trouble with me!”

    Photo Credit: Juvenile Delinquent

    Am I Ready to Die?

    Coffin

    I was just reminded I have to be prepared to die anytime.

    A woman in her 20s was killed in an auto accident about fifteen minutes after I drove by the exact same spot this morning.

    One person was killed this morning in a three-vehicle crash on I-135 by the First St exit, emergency dispatchers said.

    The crash occurred at 7:47 a.m. in the northbound lanes of the freeway.

    Two SUVs and a red car were involved in the crash. A woman in her 20s was killed.

    I need to be lifting up her family in prayer.

    Dying is a shock. I feel like there are a million things I need to get done today that are important (and there are). However, if I knew that tomorrow morning I was going to die they wouldn’t seem near so important to me today.

    Photo Credit: J Frazier

    I’ve Really Gotta Go!

    Earlier this week in one of my classes a student suddenly out of the blue loudly blurted out,
    “Can I get a bathroom pass? I’ve really gotta go!”
    “No.” This is my characteristic response. It’s easy for students to ask for hall passes and special privileges but it’s equally easy for me to say no. Which I do. The word “no” is such a wonderful word.

    The situation escalated. Wailing. Pleading. Begging. Mercy, just a little mercy, PLEASE!
    “If I can’t go to the bathroom right now…! I’m gonna pee all over the floor, right HERE!

    Really? Right there? Uh-oh, this was becoming serious. Perhaps even alarming.

    “Ok,” I back pedaled. “I’ll give you a bathroom pass. On one condition.”
    “Yeah, what’s that?”
    “The length of time you’re gone from class to the bathroom is the length of time you get to stay in here after class.”

    You know what this girl did when she heard that? I’ll tell you. She let out an agonized cry* and I can’t describe it any other way.

    Isn’t the drama in these classrooms amazing?

    “So, do you still want a bathroom pass?” I asked.
    “No,” she answered, with surprising calm and composure.
    That wonderful word “no” again. See? the students like it too.

    And she didn’t even pee right there.

    *Some elements of this tale have been exaggerated for the sake of a good story

    Should I Be Living More Comfortably Than Jesus Did?

    Are you familiar with the song I Have Decided to Follow Jesus?  The lyrics are attributed to S. Sundar Singh. 

    They go like this:

    “I have decided to follow Jesus; (3x)
    No turning back, no turning back.

    Though I may wonder, I still will follow; (3x)
    No turning back, no turning back.

    The world behind me, the cross before me; (3x)
    No turning back, no turning back.

    Though none go with me, still I will follow; (3x)
    No turning back, no turning back.”

    Sundar Singh was born in India in 1889.  He lived a very interesting life and you can read about him on Wikipedia here.  After an unusual conversion experience at the age of 16 Sundar become a “radical” follower of Jesus.  He is recorded as saying:

    “I am not worthy to follow in the steps of my Lord, but, like Him, I want no home, no possessions. Like Him I will belong to the road, sharing the suffering of my people, eating with those who will give me shelter, and telling all men of the love of God.”

    Jesus said in John 13:16-17, “I tell you the truth, no servant is greater than his master, nor is a messenger greater than the one who sent him.  Now that you know these things, you will be blessed if you do them.”

    Since it is true that we as servants of Jesus are not greater than our Master, wouldn’t it also be true that we should aspire – as Sundar decided – to live a life no more comfortable or ostentatious than the one Jesus himself lived? Should we as Christians “belong to the road” and be homeless wanderers?

    Stuff – Selling it Off!

    Jesus said, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; a man’s life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.” (Luke 12:15)

    Again, Jesus said, “No servant can serve two masters. Either he will hate the one and love the other, or he will be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve both God and Money.” (Luke 16:13)

    So I wonder, “How attached am I to my possessions?”

    I have a counter above the sink in my apartment. One of the items I keep there is a small pad of paper to jot notes down in. This afternoon I accidentally knocked it into my sink which happened to have water in it. My notebook was ruined and I found myself very irritated. A perfectly good notepad down the drain, so to speak.

    Thinking about it later I wondered, “If I am so attached to STUFF that I feel grief over the loss of a $1 notepad, how much would it hurt me if I lost things I really cared about? Horrors! how much would it hurt if I lost everything I own?”

    I decided it would hurt a lot. Uh-oh… I don’t want to be a slave and follower to stuff, I want to be a slave and follower of Jesus. If it hurts me at all – even the least little bit – to get rid of stuff, then I’m holding on to things too tightly.

    So, I’ve decided to try selling some of my stuff on eBay.

    After rummaging through some old junk, here’s what I’ve started with so far:

  • Two Go Kart Wheels – $21.50 (bought 8 years ago for a dollar)
  • 5 HP Briggs Engine – $61.00
  • First Post – Am I Denying Myself Daily?

    “Then he [Jesus] said to them all: ‘If anyone would come after me, he must deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me.  For whoever wants to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for me will save it.'” (Luke 9:23-24)

    What did the Lord Jesus Christ mean by these words?  How does one practically lose his life?  In what ways are we to deny ourselves?  What does it mean to take up ones cross?

    As I work through trying to understand the answer to these and other questions and as I try to discern the practical implications of being a true follow of Jesus, I plan to post my thoughts on this blog. 

    I plan to also post short anecdotes describing experiences from my life. I’ll try to limit those to interesting incidents and cut out the “I had raisin bran for breakfast” type of detail.

    I’ll also share my thoughts on any books I may be reading, especially any that have to do with being a Disciple of Christ.

    However, I particularly hope that you – the spellbound reader – will feel free to comment on any posts of interest. I envision this blog to be interactive.