Tanzania 07 (nearly uncut - thoughts included)

LEADING UP TO TANZANIA - 6/6/07 – 3:37 pm
High school is over and many us agree that we can feel something is different. Different with God? Perhaps I have fallen out of it, and though I continue to do the right Christiany things, I guess I’ve fallen out of communication and am only left guessing if I am in the wrong or if God’s silence is to teach me something. The days have lost their energy and shine and they roll off before I can take advantage of them. Once a life of high highs and low lows, things have mellowed so that the highs and lows are less extreme, with myself never getting mad or upset enough to wake up or revived enough to make a difference in my day or put a jump in my step.

I feel a lot like my faith is wavering because I fall to lust every two or three days and feel like an idiot who couldn’t stand for God to save his life. And pride or self-righteousness gets in the way, but once again, I am never mad or repulsed enough to stay determined. If there was one thing missing, it would seem the only explanation was grace. Billy and I played worship yesterday night and got nowhere. How great it would be just to be able to pray again, just to be able to feel love, and want so much to bring honor onto His name.

I always hear that when you draw close to God, He will draw close to you. And I am no way trying to give up on God like someone leaving the church, but it feels like I already have given up on God. I keep saying the words before I eat and I keep thinking about getting into it – but I don’t. I don’t take the steps or walk through the doors, I just wallow around in disinterest and the comfort of my reserves, holding onto the little promises of the world and the myths of my self-sufficiency.

I guess, where I am with God, is stagnant. I might be moving backwards. I’m so out of communication I wouldn’t be able to say where I am and am only guessing that I am completely falling out of it, though I have learned love and passion are two different things (one based on some unwavering affection, the other on feeling).

What I am hoping is that God will find me. And obviously it’s not mine to say when or how or even interpret the why, but… I guess I am disillusioned. This whole time, I wanted it to be ecstasy, like when you have peace for a hard workout and it’s as simple as how hard you want to push or making a decision if you want to get better. I wanted to be on fire and feel on fire and to be talking to people and maybe even “flaunting” my faith throughout all of this (my tunnel vision): Tanzania, Michigan, and OU. Man, I wanted to be so on fire on campus.

Maybe I lost God in all of this. I forgot who he was and I forgot that who I am is more important than what I do and how I feel. To know I’m a son and an heir – it’s not gonna look like I want it to look and it’s not going to feel like I want it to feel. But God would be there, right? Well, I want to be there. Enough of all these reserves. I just want God for once.

6/9/07 – 10:06 pm
More and more, I begin to see the face of God. More and more, excitement begins to resurface and life is restored. And though I am only half packed, clothes sprawled over my room, I cannot wait to see what God will do.

Mike said earlier today on the phone that he found the difference between getting ready and being ready is that getting ready implies that what we do comes from our own energy, strength, and initiative, while being ready is more like we know we can’t do it or won’t be able to find it in ourselves to do it, and yet we will do it anyway. And so preparation for acts is not important at all (though lack of preparation is different from ignorance) – but when we have given it all away, we will find ourselves blessed with grace and the strength to somehow fulfill our obligations, and none of that strength will be of our own practice or preparation. It will be entirely of the Lord, and it will be entirely His glory. I was talking to Billy for a little bit and it seems that when it says to “come boldly to the throne of grace” – meaning with confidence – it is talking about being ready and being honest.

The lessons of “being ready” and how accuracy has little to do with anything occur as somewhat a basic foundation to my faith and yet something I have to learn rather than have heard. We want to be honest and we want to be accurate in the way we live our lives before God – we want to be right and to not be mistaken and to not have to be corrected, but to have it down. And this is just works. How “right” we are before God is pointless if we don’t actually know Him, if we don’t actually honestly approach Him.

Knowing this led to Billy and I being revealed that coming boldly to the throne of grace had little to do with being accurate and a lot to do with being ready and being honest. Because we know that we can’t really ever get to the throne of grace. There are always things standing in the way – egotism and selfishness, humanism and pride. And by being honest, we are declaring that we need grace even just get to the throne of grace, just to get close to God or even to actually praise God or get to be in His presence. It is also acknowledging that getting to the throne of grace isn’t something that we can do – not by any of our works or by our character or preparation. But getting to the throne of grace is still something that we will nevertheless end up doing because God gives grace to the humble. They are connected – humility/honesty with being ready.

Being ready says we can’t do it, and yet we somehow will because of God, and being honest says we’re gonna stop pretending we have it down or that we are good enough or anything. It says we will relax before God and stop trying to be someone else, because God won’t work in us when we won’t let Him deal with us, when all we ever do is freak out every second we are uncomfortable. It’s like everytime we get close to Him, we freak out, because we don’t like being vulnerable. And being honest…means finally giving in to God and admitting all we want is Him, instead of trying to dance around and get our ways without having to be vulnerable to anything.

It’s a learning process I’m never exactly gonna have down, here anyway. I don’t have to be right. I don’t have to know everything or be in control. I just have to be honest. Genuinely seek and approach God.

When I watch people run races in track, sometimes I scream at them to “Make something happen.” And it’s not that if we do something, then God will have to respond to us or what it is by our own works things happen, but it’s like… God loves us. He’s waiting on us to want to actually talk to Him and be close to Him. And if we are just running our hearts out trying to get to Him, He will meet us. If we are honest and come as we are, He will draw near to us.

It’s not that we “make something happen” out of skill or talent. People only remember when someone is giving their all because you can tell it’s an effort thing. They’re pushing themselves, they’re trying to get beyond themselves, and they are willing to go as fast as they can go for whatever it is they are running for, and speed doesn’t matter. It’s all about heart. So Billy and I made a promise: to make something happen. To boldly approach the throne of grace, knowing full well that we can’t by ourselves. But we’re going to be honest – we would want to be no other place than the throne of grace, and we’ll run our hearts out trying to get there, knowing that even then, we will fall short. But we want to meet God. Please God, know my heart, and if I am deceiving myself, take my world apart.

So I am looking forward to Tanzania. Jake Nonwiler is bringing his guitar, so I am glad I will at least have some kind of outlet in worship. I pray that I really will leave my comfort zone and seek to find God, I pray I will stop pretending and stop freaking out before God.

I’ve got some packing to do and then airport at 3:15 am. All nighter. I pray Your name be lifted high, and that I wouldn’t stand in Your way, but submit. Wholeheartedly.

LEAVING FOR TANZANIA - 6/11/07 – 2:16 am
I spent most of Saturday night packing and waiting to get to the airport at three the next morning. And when three came around, I was surprised to learn that my flight was actually three in the afternoon and not in the morning, which made me feel kinda stupid, but let me go to another church service at the least.

But things with God are still up in the air. We had another worship based English service, but it didn’t seem like I was getting or going anywhere, or like I was even praising. It just…didn’t seem like God was really there, to me. It felt like I cried out and no answer came, and I was trying to seek with all of my heart and yet I wasn’t finding anything. [Well, I found something. I want God more than I want heaven. And to be with God or for God to have gotten my best is what I’m supposed to be living for, regardless of what that looks or feels like.]

So I am still at odds with God, it seems. The intimacy doesn’t feel like it’s there; my prayer is nearly methodical or habitual in that it is almost repetitive and my Bible has not been cracked open. Instead, I read The Final Quest, and find certain truths that make sense, but as it even says in the book, believing things in your mind are far different form believing them with your heart. So… I am…waiting. Crying. Desperate, or perhaps, still selfish and unwilling to go. As if stranded.

Our flight to Atlanta was postponed about two hours, which means that we couldn’t be there in time to catch our New York flight, which would connect to Dubai next morning, then Dar es Salaam, then Mwanza. So we are spending the night in some Atlanta hotel tonight before flying out to New York next morning, where we will again spend the night before flying out to Dubai.

Timewise, nothing has worked out. Flight delays and working out hotel complications and even just getting our luggage – everything seems to be going not our way. Not according to our schedule or our plans. Reminds me of past mission trips, anyway.

On the trip there are eight of us right now: Coach Adams, Ms. Baumann, Jake Nonwiler, Jordanne Morrow, Audrey Helmerich, Conley Craven, and Torie Bender. And, as a group, there is a bit of difficulty, because we do not hang out as a group. We don’t know what to talk about or even vital characteristics of everybody else. We don’t have a sense of team dynamics. And so we stand around quietly, nervously, and talk on our cell phones to others back home.

And I can’t help but think this is how it is with God. I acknowledge He is there, but I am not really talking to Him. Our fellowship is limited because I am not investing in it so much, or I fear intimacy and rejection. My identity in this group has become harder for me to understand, and so no one really knows what they can count on each other to provide. But as we ultimately work together, there is no way we can stay separate. We will end as one group – one body with distinct members, yet functioning with harmony as one.

It’s a late night. I should pick up my Bible though.

6/12/07 - ? pm
After the night in Atlanta, we took about two hours to get to New York, where we would have to spend the night again before our flight to Dubai that is happening now. Since we had the evening free to spend in NYC, we ended up riding the subway to Times Square to eat and go shopping. We ate at the Hard Rock Café and took tons of pictures because everything here seems to make Tulsa unreasonable boring. We had this crazy idea to go on the Today Show and to make signs and stay up all night to counter the jetlag because we should be sleeping a lot right now. We got about five or so hours of sleep and rushed off to the airport and we’re in the air now.

The plane is a Boeing 777 and it is amazing. It’s called Emirates Airlines or something, and the meals are really fancy. At each seat, there’s a monitor with a controller that looks a little like a Wii controller. Through these interfaces, you can play about forty different games (Pong, Chess), and you can play head to head against your friends or strangers on their different monitors. In a similar fashion, you can call your friend (or again, a stranger) and talk to them, as well as IM or e-mail. And that’s not it. The interfaces are loaded with tons of free music (much of it class rock or Japanese though) as well as a ton of movies. I was watching Happy Feet earlier (fell asleep though) and just got finished watching Accepted and now I’m listening to Coldplay. Now, with all of the main lights turned off, the overhead lights are dimmed blue and the ceiling is lit up with sparkles resembling stars. I though I could sleep the whole flight, but this is just really cool that it is keeping me awake.

In Accepted, a high school senior is rejected from all of his colleges and his parents are outraged at him, because they claim the point of college is to get a good job and salary and that only “nobodies” get rejected and don’t go to college. So the guy, Bartleby Gains, makes a college to fool his parents, and huge masses of people show up because they were rejected as well, and no one was accepted at any of their college choices. And he’s about to call it off when he realizes he can’t, because everyone needs this place as a refuge, because at least here they can fit in. And they start learning things – what they want to learn. They are their own teachers and they do what they want and they don’t actually really abuse that power. The whole underlying theme of the movie is that just because they don’t fit in and they have become accustomed to rejection and everybody wants them to be clean cut and smart and all these things that they’re not, it doesn’t mean they are any lesser than any of their friends who got into real prestigious schools. They are just going at their own pacing and singing their own songs and dancing to their own beats, and though it may seem entirely immature or elementary, this is only because it runs against a standard of normalcy that is more of a myth. So, in the end, they’re accepted.

In Switchfoot’s The Beautiful Letdown album, there is a song that said the church is filled with losers and dropouts and sinners and sellouts, and I am getting to be more comfortable with that. Because all I want to be is myself and not to be constantly trying to fill all these molds that say I must be someone else and tell me that I am defected if I don’t do something like get into college.

We’re about over Greenland right now. You can look down and actually see all of these mountains, it’s pretty breathtaking. Group dynamics have sorta developed, but I still don’t really know the role I’m going to play. And with God… I think I’ve been putting Him on hold. Which means, no matter how good of a time I have, it’s still perishable. More than that, it’s not worth it.

6/13/07 – Between Dubai and Dar es Salaam - ? pm
We are just about to leave Dubai, our airplane is driving around. I caught close to no sleep on the twelve hour flight from NY to Dubai, and we will be arriving in Tanzania at about eight at night. This is a five hour flight, then maybe an hour flight to Mwanza. Since we get there in the afternoon and right now is about lunchtime, sleeping right now would throw us completely off their time, so it really is like an all nighter. Must resist…

[I eventually ended up sleeping most of this flight and then was completely out from Dar es Salaam to Mwanza…but it wasn’t actually that hard adjusting to the time change.]

TANZANIA - 6/14/07 – After lunch – 2 pm?
I think when I compared our group’s interaction to how things are going between me and God, I was a little sketchy.

We flew about 28 hours or something – 12 from NYC to Dubai, 5 to Dar es Salaam, and an hour or two to Mwanza…that was yesterday. And to a certain extent, it was miserable. Time changes and cramped legs an inability to get some rest or relax or be apart of something exciting. But when we finally landed in Tanzania and the sun was setting and we drove back in Chris Gates’ Land Rover completely packed, everything was different. As a group, everything was different. Because we had finally made it, and it wasn’t that anything had exactly changed, not physically or literally. But things had.

It seems like, in our two days in the States trying to get out of the country when nobody was really talking to each other, that’s like when we’re not really talking God. He’s like the elephant in the room that no one wants to address and might ignore or remove from their paradigms. Because it wouldn’t be so uncommon of a time when there would be three or four of us would be on our phones, talking to people back home instead of us to each other. And this is difficult and 28 hours are long and you could even call them hard or painful or wasted (because the truth is that we didn’t have to be in Tanzania to act like we were, dynamically). But when we got to where we were supposed o be, things were instantly different, even if we still weren’t talking all that much. Communications changed and we realized the importance of each other, of group unity. Now we can fall out of communication, which is where I think I am with God, but just as long as we are continually at work and needing to trust each other, it becomes harder to fall out of communication. And the thing is – we have arrived. And even when we act like we haven’t, we can’t deny that we truly have.

So we are staying at the Gates’ house in Tanzania, where there is the orphanage just a couple of meters away, and we overlook Lake Victoria and mountains. We drove about 45 minutes out of Mwanza in the dark eating pizza, and I looked out and saw a sky full of stars. I thought I had seen stars in Tulsa when I could see like five in the distance, but here, they are completely all over the place at night. You feel like they are close, and they really do make you stand in wonder and awe and consider that you might not be such a big deal after all.

Everybody is very friendly, in the village and even on the roads headed towards Mwanza, nearly everybody seems to stop what they are doing to wave at us (I guess it helps that we are white). Chris also the one English word nearly everybody knows is “bye,” so the children will run to us as we drive by, waving and screaming “bye bye bye bye bye,” until we pass. Culturally, the women are not supposed to show any of their legs above their knees, so the whole idea of beauty is changed drastically and it is not much an attention on their bodies, I think, but the way they conduct themselves. And they don’t really have electricity or running water in nearly all the houses. Most people walk or ride bikes. And it’s a mistake to think that they are unfortunate or at any kind of disadvantage from us, because the truth is that they don’t need all of the things that we have. They are an incredibly passionate people, deserving of nothing less than our affection because it is like all they want is to be our friends and to hold our hands to see we are not so different after all.

They have cows and pigs and dogs up here, and Chris was looking at some roosters today. There isn’t exactly a neighborhood Wal-Mart and score one that I haven’t seen a McDonald’s. They had two water buffalo from last year, Buckwheat and Eeyore, but Eeyore was cut one day by a drunkard and bled to death overnight (which prompted a village wide feast as water buffalo are enormous). The pigs are named Selma, Bacon, Egg, and Porkchop, and the dogs are named Mosey, Rambo, and Machete. The cows are all named after characters from The Office. They are constantly upgrading and advancing their facilities so that they might become self-sufficient or self-sustaining in the future – right now, they are building a new house beside the orphanage and trying to get electricity for the house (they even have wi-fi). They have us digging up the borders of a foundation for a new cow barn (a foot and a half deep, a foot across, and the rectangle is 20 feet by 72). We managed to do both of the twenty foot sides today and be thoroughly exhausted, but it is great because we are actually working.

And for food – I’m not sure how normal it is, but this morning, Chris made cinnamon rolls and we had curry and rice along with pineapple and mango for lunch (I wish Ruth could se this). And Chris sleeps on a queen sized waterbed, so we are by no means living horribly tough or dirty lives here, though I have to wonder if my spiritual life isn’t. Because even though it is great and I do enjoy it, I don’t want to waste it, you know. I’m talking about relevance.

6/15/07 – A little before lunch – 6 pm?
We did both twenty foot sides of the foundation of the cow barn yesterday, only to find out today that our second side had actually been above a grace and if we had dug deeper, we would have ended up with a body. We just finished shoveling about half of one of the 72 foot sides (now 67), and so blisters are forming on my hands and it is frustratingly hard to write or draw straight lines.

Also, in the house where we are staying, they are putting up ceilings, so Jake and I got a chance to help out Paul Goodman build and help place and nail beams for the ceiling into the roof frame (because all we had in the house were the walls and no ceilings for the rooms, so you could technically jump from one room to another by climbing the walls). Paul Goodman is a missionary from Kirk of the Hills; he is actually leaving tomorrow, and he led a Bible study yesterday about Nehemiah and will do one tonight about Joseph. His daughter, Abby, is also here, and she goes to OSU.

In the morning, Chris and all of the girls excluding Ms. Baumann went to the market to get oil (to provide us with running water, hurrah for showers and washing hands), as well as a goat and three live chickens. There are many preparations needing to happen for tomorrow because we are celebrating all the girls’ birthdays (because their birthdays are unknown). So while Chris and the others were gone, Ms. Baumann, Jake, Kathryn, and I planted cucumbers, about twenty mounds of twelve seeds each. The girls also came down and watched us work and then we ended up playing for a while with a beachball.

There was a mango tree right where we were, and one of the girls was throwing rocks at some mangos. In the end, Jake had knocked down seven for each of the girls and they ate them.

Before lunch, we also got another chance to play with the girls. It was great fun, they have this game that’s kind of like Red Rover, because both teams have one member to represent them and those two members play a game of tug-of-war and whoever wins gains the other onto his/her team.

We also played Bata Bata Kuku (or the equivalent pronunciation of cuckoo in English), which is Duck Duck Chicken, because they don’t have geese over there. I’ve actually learned some Swahili. Hujambo or jambo is ‘hello,’ hubariacho is ‘how are you?’ Ndiyo is yes, habana is no, nzoori is good, sana is very (so nzoori sana is very good), asante is thank you, paka is cat, umgua is dog, and samba is lion and rafiki is friend. Peepee is candy.

Last night, Jordanne threw up after dinner. She wasn’t feeling so well, but she’s back again today. On the first night, she was sleeping and apparently said “Where am I? I’m scared,” before falling off the top bunch and landing on the ground. Those bunks are pretty high though, very notably. She doesn’t remember any of it or how it happened, but it’s somewhat of a big deal that she wasn’t hurt. At the boys orphanage in town, TCRC, a boy last year fell off the top bunk and died. My point exactly.

I couldn’t sleep last night. I had the top bunk as well (we are just alternating because neither of us care if we have the top or bottom). I think I had grace to pray and to finally be honest, but I am not sure what I said to God. I know something I said was some thing I had never really said before, but I’m not sure what that was. After that, I went running, but it was weird because I don’t think the idea of cross country running makes sense to people here. So I stopped after a while and just went back because a lot of people were walking around and staring.

Paul Goodman made me feel a little inept today, because I was pretty uncoordinated with a hammer and nails and I was weak and tired. I felt like I wasn’t good enough for him and feared that he wouldn’t think of me as “real Christian” material or “real man” material at least. But then he gave me some hammering tips and I got better, the result of which was pride starting to kick in. And I realize, when I start to think of myself better than other people, I am pushing them down to make me higher and I am making them feel like they are inept or not good enough for me.

I saw a book online titled, “I’m okay – you’re not: the message we’re sending unbelievers,” and I think this is really what pride does. Pride stemming from fear, the opposite of love. Jesus was always trying to find ways to serve, to love people at absolutely whatever cost, to such extent as the sacrifice of His body. And if people didn’t recognize the work He had done and continues to do, He would simply continue to do that work, not because He needed the justification of His peers, but because that is His character – He is in the business of saving lives.

Anyways, Bible study and dinner (homemade pizza) coming up. Tomorrow we continue to dig, replant two small trees, and have a birthday party. God bless.

6/16/07 – 9:35 pm
I remember starting the application for this Tanzania trip the day before it was due and waking y mom up the next morning to ask her to sign it. From that point on to the first couple days into the trip, I still didn’t know what I was doing going on this trip and whether or not I had lost my mind.

But today was worth it. Not only was it National Children of Africa Day, but Chris had chosen this day to celebrate the girls’ birthdays. In the morning, we were working on the other half of the now lessened 72 foot side. We got a late start to it though, because it was raining hard. We thought it might be easier to dig the trenches, but it actually wasn’t on the surface. We worked hard though and got into a groove.

For the party, Chris and Mrs. Gates baked cakes and they killed a goat. We had bags for each of the girls and we filled them with birthday cards, books, little plastic rings, stickers, candy, and toothbrushes. Sarah and Ms. Baumann had also bought dresses for all of the girls, including Agnes, Rachel, and Mama Tisla. All of the workers were invited to the party around lunch time, and a new orphan arrived just before we were going to start – Yamalwa. We ate and various songs were sung, then the girls were presented a kite, two baseballs and bats, and all of their bags. They were pretty excited.

We went down after that and played with all of the things we had gotten them. We threw balls around and the girls were pretty good at batting and it wasn’t long before we were playing Down by the Banks, Bata Bata Kuku, and that Red Rover/Tug of War game. We eventually got out the soccer balls (it’s actually football over here) and we didn’t have enough space, so we walked a bit to a football field, but everyone came and so it was something special. Mama Tisla was our goalie and Agnes was pretty good, and they say we lost four to five, but I have my doubts. Even a bunch of random village boys joined to play with us, some of them pretty good. It was a lot of fun, even if we did lose.

I lost my hat to like three different girls, so I’m kind of unnecessarily proud. Because I have a little better idea of what I am doing here. I am playing soccer with a bunch of orphan girls and having a ridiculously fun time and giving them all high fives for scoring goals and giving them things that they can remember for the rest of their lives, be it a birthday present or a cow barn or a Krispy Kreme hat.

We walked back to our house and we were just sitting around exhausted when I grabbed Jake’s guitar and Jordanne asked if I knew Indescribable. Turns out I got to bust out my whole notebook or worship music and we played and sang through it and it was actually a lot of fun. To see someone so excited about praise and worship. And for me to get to be there and sing songs and wonder at how great it is to be able to travel thousands of miles with people I hardly knew and to get to end up singing worship all around them. I’m not sure why it’s such a big deal, but to get to be the one playing guitar and to be singing songs…it was a little glimpse into what it is I’m doing here. Glorifying God.

After showers, we ate dinner and sat around talking. There are three or so mice in the house, and Coach Adams, among others, is absolutely terrified of them, so we named one of the mice after her and tried to catch it. Efforts were futile, but it was pretty funny, and our room was pretty much dismantled in our pursuits (our mattresses and luggage).

We learned a couple more phrases in Swahili:
Sijambo – your default response to Hujambo. “I am good.”
Si jui – “I don’t know”
Gina soko ni nani? – “What is your name?”
Gina longu ni ____ - “My name is ____”
Una fayaje? – “What are you doing?” or “What’s up?”

We are going to church tomorrow, and Chris said they don’t work on Sundays, so it will be a relaxing day. Over here, it is easier to see the significance of a day of rest, because there is always something to do or to work on, since a house is being built, crops need to be maintained, and we are digging trenches for a cow barn. And it is pretty tiring. Things would be pretty crazy if we never took a break. And it always seems like a challenge trying to stay up past nine in the evening.

Something that also makes sense is the significance of Jesus washing feet. Because me feet are incredibly dirty, and I have been taking a shower every night, something that most people here don’t do. So I think for someone to stoop to the level of washing feet, especially realizing that they would be just as quickly dirtied once that person stepped outside of the house is a big deal. It says a little bit about what it feels like to be in the Father’s house.

Chris just turned off the generator, so I don’t really have light. More writing later. The days over here are the longest.

6/17/07 – 4:36 pm
It suddenly occurs that times have changed, and though I may not feel God around me, I can still cry out to Him because He is still there. And even if I don’t hear words coming back, I will continue to lift my prayers and worries. It also occurs that it makes sense that, while my days at home before the trip were short and dull, these days have become ridiculously long and yet every moment seems new and exciting, like I am actually taking advantage of the day.

Since girls have to wear skirts and can’t expose any part of their lower body higher than their knees, my eyes have adjusted, at least for the time being. Lust hasn’t been much of a problem lately. The whole idea of respect and not wanting to hurt somebody comes into play, since many of these girls have been raped at such a young age; the last thing I want to do is hurt them more, even if it is simply in my mind. The girls were looking through Coach Adams’ Vanity Fair magazine and were pulling out all of the ads they thought were inappropriate – of girls in short skirts and guys modeling underwear and whatnot. I thought it was pretty funny.

Today was a church and rest day. Church was held in the school, a little bit past the football field. Time there is very relaxed and people just gather whenever they want and the services start whenever it is unanimously agreed. I have to admit I didn’t get that much out of the service as it was mostly in Swahili, but the choir sang and danced and it was pretty cool, and we went up and sang as well. It was another one of those moments, figuring out what it is I’m doing here – because we were singing “I could sing of Your love forever” to about forty or fifty people, and though they couldn’t understand us, just our being there and doing something like that was significant. Going unto nations, glorifying God’s name. We all went outside afterwards and shook hands with everyone and prayed and someone told me, “Praise the Lord” in English. Our God is everywhere.

Walking back, it was cool because a little girl grabbed my hand and I got to walk with her. Her name was Monica and she took my hat and wore it and I thought it was cool or adorable because I held someone’s attention for a moment. And it’s not supposed to be a prideful, self-righteousness thing, but it says in 1 Peter to “be holy for I am holy,” which gets me thinking that when we are holy or exemplify Christ-like qualities, people start seeing God in us, and our holiness that comes from God is used to emphasize God’s holiness. So that when people are looking at us, we are essentially diverting their attention onto God or at least secretly giving testimony to His holiness.

When we got back home, one of the cows (Pam) had a swollen eye, so Chris and John went to check it out, and it was pretty intense. The cow kept on busting through the barbed wire fence and scraping itself up. They finally roped her and got her down, but I missed it because I was playing football with some boys (and by football, I mean soccer). Turns out it had a whole bunch of ticks.

We ate lunch and dinner with the girls – dinner was chicken fajitas and mango, but there were a whole lot of bugs in the house, so we all ate fast and then danced. We taught them the Macarena and the Chicken Dance.

What I am struggling with is intimacy. With girls. Like one of my friends has said, it’s like whenever someone draws close, he pulls away. And my reasons aren’t the same as his, probably, but I have the same type of problem with simply having girls as friends, and I am hesitant because I am afraid. Of various things. And I can’t seem to keep myself from thinking about relationships. I overanalyze everything. And when I have a good time, I can’t seem to let that be enough. I have to overanalyze everything.

I’m not sure I’m going to be faced with anything life changing here. But my faith is being strengthened, and I really just want to love on people for the rest of my life. Things are so simple here, socially. No one cares who you hang out with or whatever. It’s more like, “Who are you drawn to? Touch their hearts, become their friends, show them Jesus.” Because everyone has wounds and they don’t try to hide them so much over here.

6/18/07 – Before dinner – 5:30 pm?
I’m beginning to crack. I need some alone time, some sleep time, some God time. I don’t fit in. It sucks being the outcast, the recipient of others’ grace to be included, the man behind the scenes who gets walked over. And though it must not be like this, couldn’t it be? No one is who I thought they were. We can work well as a team, but when it boils down to who people really are, I am hesitant and perhaps angered. And I don’t fit in.

And perhaps my heart cries out to be accepted more than it cries out to bring God praise and glory. Everything is falling apart and though it seems like even more, I could use this to motivate me to be as completely Christ like as possible, I just want to bail out. “Stop destroying my world, stop invading my privacy and sending me through all these temptations,” I want to say. “Just leave me alone.” And I would fall apart if He did. I need some sleep time.

I had a dream that I was somewhere in a room with the orphans, and we started playing worship. I don’t know who it was who was playing. It wasn’t me, it might have been Jesus. Whoever it was sung Holiness and, though I had not really been in the mood for worship, I instantly broke down into tears and was in ecstatic worship and communication with God. And all of a sudden, everybody left, and my state of worship ceased. They eventually returned, but things were never the same again.

And in terms of our youth group, we’ll never be the same again. And in terms of relationships…I don’t care anymore. Just someone…anyone who will understand. Who I can fit in with, who doesn’t have to change to be with me, who is entirely natural when we are together. And she has to accept me, I have to know she has chosen to love me, and that I’m not an act of charity, but…someone that means something.

9:19 pm
Whatever I do will always be mine. Not to be selfish sounding or on the verge of heresy, I hope, but the idea is that no one can take from me the things I have done. Like my faith – no one will be able to take that from me, because it is a living expression of me. It is one of the few things I know deep in my heart, and as long as I am alive, God will be alive in me.

6/19/07 – 7:55 am
You know how in cartoons someone will have a really bad day, like horrendously bad, and then will wake up the next morning to find that it’s the same day and that they can redeem themselves? Maybe that’s today for me.

10:26 pm
When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know just as I am known. 1 Corinthians 13:11-12

Well, it wasn’t exactly like re-living yesterday. Things seemed nearly as hard. We did our own laundry, which I was pretty self-conscious about. Then we switched jobs with three of Chris’s workers. Instead of us digging the trenches, it was three women, and we began lugging rocks over to our ditches to form the foundation. It was a good workout, but I got pretty mad, because a lot of the other workers Chris had hired were carrying sand over and looking at me and laughing, because I was struggling and their middle aged women could probably carry as much as me, if not more. I felt like everything they thought about me was relative, and I was being judged because I failed miserably against their standards. And…it was kind of a downer. Because I kind of exhausted myself carrying rocks and scraping my hands and working my forearms, and they didn’t seem to care that I was really trying. They only saw…what I was doing. Not who I was.

After lunch, I just kind of laid around reading the Ted Dekker book Lydia gave me, until I eventually got the energy to go hang out with everybody and bead friendship bracelets. I’m a bit of an introvert, and I think it is beginning to show quite a bit. I hear I don’t finish my sentences, and that I mumble a lot. It reminded me of a time I went to a Korean church retreat for a week and one of the chaperones thought I was depressed because I was so introverted.

Listening to people tell you who you are begins to take a toll. I forgot who I am. What I was trying to say a night or two ago is that my faith is uniquely mine, and God is uniquely mine just as I am His. And this element of me can’t be taken away from me because it defines me.

I went running. And it’s just a little of who I am, but it seemed to remind me. There’s more to me than what people say or remember about me, and there’s every more to me than what I myself think of me. “I am not my own, but I was bought at a price” – redeemed. Saved from the cruel thoughts of myself and my peers, to both I am not good enough. There was a song that said “When you believe He’s all you need, that will be your defining moment.” That’s when a child becomes a man, instantly. I think this is what it is saying in 1 Corinthians 13. You see everything in a different light and everything about you changes – how you speak and understand, so much that you might change your name like Paul.

And we see in part. We don’t see entirely who we are, because we are not yet in direct light or communication with God. So we see dimly face to face. And when we really finally see God, we see ourselves just as He sees us. We finally know who we are, without a doubt.

There is some passage that talks about a foolish man who looks into a mirror to see who he is and immediately forgets what he looks like once he turns away from the mirror. Instead of seeing who he is, he might start listening to who he is, believing things that lack validity. And that’s what I did. I forgot who I was.

Because who I am…isn’t a jerk. Not to be cocky, because “by the grace of God I am what I am, and His grace toward me was not in vain” (1 Corinthians 15:10). I’ve been saved, I’m a son of God, and if a son, then an heir to the kingdom. I have nothing to worry about, even these dilemmas that seem like such big deals. So I have confidence – God will keep His promises. He won’t let me go.

But additionally, God has made me more like Him. So I will work my butt off and even if it looks like nothing, that’s still integrity. The most you could ever do…is to lay your life down. To do everything for God and His glory. And that doesn’t mean being the best at everything, but doing it in such a way that God might be proud. And even if no one sees it, won’t God? He wouldn’t miss it for the world, and when no one else cares, He’s still crying when it hurts and rejoicing when it rocks.

I don’t have anything to worry about. God won’t let me go. He really actually wants me. He really actually wants to be with me, to get to know me, to spend His time with me. I don’t have to worry. Because if God will accept me at my worst, He’ll still accept me at my best, even when my best isn’t good enough.

The big point is…I’m saved. I’m God’s. This is who I am. And the challenge remains – to remember this through everything.


6/20/07 – Before dinner – 5:30 pm?
I wonder the hurt that I am missing, the good times I have left, and the joys and awarenesses I know of only because I have left my home. We take cold showers and insects are horrendously annoying at night, and I have to chow down malaria pills every morning because I can’t swallow. I stare at my feet and legs soaked with mud and dirt, not enough energy to do much of anything for now, simply listening to music on the top bunk, writing, waiting for a chance at one of those cold showers. And, what does it look like to God? What does productivity look like to Him? What about work? Success? Beauty? It all plays into knowing who you are and seeing finally who God has called you to be and who He defines you to be. And I don’t know if this is really my thing or whatever, but I don’t think my being here is a mistake at all.

I’m learning how to deal with people. How to really love, how to…trust God will make things meet. He will touch the brokenhearted, father the orphans, heal the lame, and this has nothing to do about me except that I am one of the countless many that have been redeemed and made new. I want to sound bold like I know what I’m talking about and make it seem like I’m strong and whatever, but truth be told, I really just want to talk to God and feel His embrace. I want to know everything’s gonna be okay, but I also want for things to be my way. And I’m stuck knowing – all I truly want is to look into that mirror and see again who I am. And see my story, my life of running away and getting lost and falling apart and…that I have never needed God so much in my life. Because even if I’m here in Africa doing these so called good works, what does progress look like to God? What does faith look like? What does a heritage mean? And what does grace mean? And why is it so hard to be honest? Why is it so hard to cry? Why is it so hard to acknowledge I can’t do this?

I don’t have to be anyone. I don’t have to start an orphanage in Africa as an undergrad student, I don’t have to get good grades or graduate or have bragging rights or be a somebody. What does success look like to God?

Intimacy? Would that mean we labor in vain? Would that render selfish ambitions, competition, and expectation pointless? Would that mean forgetting everything I have been taught? It would mean releasing my dreams, laying down my rights, dying daily to myself knowing full well that the moment I consider that success to God looks like anything but intimacy, I will have fallen from grace and have forgotten what it is that makes me me.

Today we lugged more rocks to the ditches of the cow barn and filled nearly everything up, plastering it together with cement. Spend around two and a half hours at least working hard, and in the morning, we hiked the huge hill behind our house with the girls. That’s about it. Mrs. Gates (Chris’ mom) flew out this morning, but Mary Lindemuth (HH alum) arrived yesterday night, her third year here. I’m gonna go shower. God bless.

6/21/07 – 9:24 pm
Our third day lugging rocks around, mixing cement for the foundation of the cow barn. Didn’t get that much work done, but on a plus, my biceps are getting bigger. We went running in the morning with the girls, and I ran with Yamalwa, and it turns out that she’s a crazy good runner. I am pretty sure we ran around a 5k and she was pushing it in random places – but absolutely no training. She did it in a dress and sandals, good stride nonetheless. Yeah, it was pretty awesome. She’s got some serious speed and endurance. We’re going again tomorrow (kesho hasiburi).

Other than that, nothing big has really happened. We got couches in the house, nice brown leather ones I’m sitting on now, listening to newly purchased speakers blasting someone’s iPod. We have been working on trying to find songs to sing in church, because we don’t want to “embarrass” ourselves like last Sunday, since their choir was so well rehearsed with music and choreography. Think we’ll probably at least sing Seasons of Love form the musical Rent, and then we still need three more songs.

Seems like we kinda slummed around today, but we played with the girls a lot. On Saturday, we’re going to the Serengeti, which is apparently bigger than Connecticut. And Sunday is church/rest day, so I think we’ll need to work hard to see everything done with the cow barn, since we’re leaving Thursday morning.

I’m actually beginning to anticipate Michigan with the youth group, as bad at that might sound. I don’t want to say goodbye to all these girls. I had to stop today and tell myself to look around, because my being in Africa is still a big deal. I was trying to imagine what I would be doing if I wasn’t here, and I think Africa is better than anything I would be doing back home, as comfortable as it would be. Might try to call home tomorrow, at 3:30 in the morning to catch Friday night Bible study.

6/22/07 – 8:01 pm
For the light material, I slept in today and we finished loading the wide wall with rocks so we have another twenty footer and a bit of the other wide wall to fill. Today was my fourth day lugging rocks (seven or eight was my average, and I do think I’m getting stronger). And it was very exhausting – nobody ever seems to see me, so I took sprints up the hill to get rocks, and then I break danced for a while at the end of the day. After a while, people started noticing and I even got a crowd of boys, though I never really landed the move I was trying. I think we’ll have a dance party or rave before we leave, so I really want to get some moves down to show all of the girls.

6/23/07 – 7:37 pm
Running over here is great, pretty far from being boring. Mountains and sunsets, a lot of people puzzlingly staring while I wave and say “jambo.” Grace as well. Though I haven’t been training, I can still hit a strong 7 minute mile pace with the altitude and energy to spare. We’re going again tomorrow morning with the girls.

Today we hit a dog going to the Serengeti, world’s largest natural wildlife preserve. Spent a great deal of time there, including breakfast and lunch, and we saw a huge variety of animals – lions, elephants, monkeys, ostriches, gazelles, wildebeests, giraffes, and more (though no cheetahs…or meerkats). We supposedly spent about twelve hours in a car today, woke up at five this morning to get there. And waking up was surprisingly easy.

I woke up around twelve last night and couldn’t go back to sleep. And there must have been grace, because I prayed or at least thought things through. It was about something my mom taught me a long time ago, when we had arguments with my dad. She said that I wasn’t going to be able to change him, and so I would have to change myself instead. What she was saying is that even when people things that are annoying or that you don’t agree with, you shouldn’t try to get them to change just because it is more convenient for you. It’s more important to love, and this is what a lot of 1 Peter is about. The idea that we can live our lives in such a way that others might notice and their lives might be changed – but the focus s not on trying to convict or change people, it’s simply trying to condition your own heart, because that might be the only thing you have a bit of control over. (Anyways, God does all of the convicting and heart changing.)

And so, it occurs that hating people isn’t going to really get me what I want, or even trying to live tactically to manipulate relationships. And hating people isn’t going to get people to change and loving people isn’t necessarily going to force change either, but doesn’t it make more sense? I realize that if I don’t allow myself to love others because of some kind of characteristic flaw or shortcoming on their part, then I’m nowhere deserving of their love and especially God’s love for that matter.

I was thinking about how things were before I got saved, how I was kind of hopelessly addicted to lust and what people thought about me and good grades and how ridiculous it is to think I earned God’s love. How stupid it is to think I deserve this life, to have the attention and even sacrifice of a King. And in one of those rare moments, the fear of the Lord was in me, and the last thing I wanted to do was account for all of my sins in front of Him, knowing that I would be speechless because I would have finally realized the magnitude of my offense. Knowing that the penalty of my sins should have been death, and that I would have no excuse for what I had done.

Another thing occurs – not fitting in and being lonely are two different things, and I don’t think I could handle both at the same time. Before the trip, I fit in, but I was still somewhat lonely. Now, I don’t fit in, but I am not alone.

6/24/07 – 10:59 pm
Today was church and rest, so about five of us cashed in on twelve hours of sleep. I woke up and went running with Yamalwa since I had been telling her “kesho hasiburi” (tomorrow morning) for a couple of days. We got at least a mile and came back. After breakfast and events like milking a cow and feeding that milk to the newly born calf (still unnamed), we walked the half mile or so to church and I was pretty sure I would fall asleep. A trip to the house and back to pick up a video camera and return Rambo (who had followed us to church) made me even more tired and in need of water. Right before the sermon, Jordanne grew really dizzy and had to leave, but I think she’s good now. Church was nice, but most people were falling asleep and I honestly wasn’t paying attention to anything either.

When we came back, Chris gave me a haircut, and it actually looks pretty good, it’s just really random. We had lunch with the girls, washed the dishes, and casually hung out until dinner, which we had with two of Chris’ workers who just recently gave us a pregnant goat. Did those dishes then went over to the big house and sang and prayed with the girls. Great fun.

I’ve been reading Skin by Ted Dekker, the book Lydia gave me for graduation. I picked it up again today after a couple of days of not reading because I didn’t like the way it was going, and I still don’t, but now I have to finish it because everything has to be resolved and I’m in the pivotal last 85 pages. Sorry for the brevity, I promise to hopefully catch up with things tomorrow.

6/26/07 – 9:40 pm and 6/27/07 – 8:05 am
A bit of catching up:

On the 23rd, Saturday. Chris and one of his friends Kathy were the ones who showed us around the Serengeti. Kathy works as one of the English teachers at NTC – Nassa Theological College, one of the few straight up ministry training programs in Africa. It turns out that a huge percentage of pastors and leaders in the church in Africa have been without any kind of training, so this is good. After the Serengeti, we got to take a quick tour around the college.

On the 18th, we went to the market in Mwanza and then the Tanzania Children’s Rescue Center, or TCRC, a rather large all boy orphanage. At the market, we bought congas and souvenirs (things ranging from spoons to wooden animals to spears). At TCRC, we pretty much just hung out with all of the guys for an hour or two and heard them sing. Their English is the best I’ve heard here, by far, and they even greet us using “What’s up?” Nearly all of them have been given Biblical names, since probably a huge majority were abandoned as babies and later found. One of them, named James, an aspiring musician, sang 50 Cent for us.

Two days ago, on the 25th, we did about the same thing – going to the market (Internet café, art store) and then to TCRC for lunch since Chris had a lunch meeting somewhere in town. I splurged about $40 at the art store buying things for the youth group. At TCRC, we played soccer for about an hour and then I hung out with these guys I met – Elisha and David. It’s kind of sad because all of them were asking when we were coming back and we couldn’t tell them. Jordanne bent her toenail playing soccer and one of the kids said, “Tomorrow you wear shoes,” and when she said we weren’t coming back that day, he said, “Day after?” So it really is sad that we could have only been there for a couple of hours.

Elisha wants to go and get a job. He seems pretty down to earth – I think he said he was 16. David, 14 or so, said he didn’t know who his mother was and wanted to find out when he grew up. They asked me to pray for them because they were going to take a national schooling exam in nine months and want to do well. David can do kung fu – there is someone at TCRC teaching some boys; he and another kid could launch off of rocks in the ground and do backflips and kicks. So they really are being set up for futures. The first day we visited, one of the common questions was, “What do you want to do?” And people here want to be astronauts. Engineers. Soccer players. The importance of dreaming is inexpressible.

I wish I could stay and work with TCRC. I promised Elisha and David to send them the pictures we took together and that I would pray for them. But I wish I could do more. I wish I could truly be their friends and that they would see God in me and love and that I want to see them succeed as much as I want myself to, maybe more. God does that kind of work. He touches the broken and the fatherless and the ones nobody wants or pays attention to and lifts them up to rip to shreds a world of ego and self righteousness, to show He is mighty to save.

Yesterday we were working on the foundation, though for the morning, most of the group went to get concrete (sand + concrete + water = cement?) and so the rest of us packed or played with the girls. When they came back, we waited a bit and started working again, though not with as much momentum as we did earlier. Anyways, they needed big rocks, and there was a place where I frequently went to get big rocks, on top of an even larger rock that was sloped and slippery, though I had never really slipped on it. But I got a big rock and on the descent, I slipped and fell backwards onto my back, and the big rock I was carrying landed on me sorta between my hip and my groin, where there isn’t much to seriously hurt. I didn’t do anything for about an hour, then ate lunch, and we eventually went to the hospital (being checked + buying medication cost a little under $7). It didn’t hurt that much except the first hour, but now everything is pretty much entirely fine, and I can really only feel it when I sneeze or cough.

Yesterday we also painted a wall of the girls’ room, because I think it was Audrey’s idea to paint all of the girls’ hands and names on the wall. So we laid down a base, which is actually pretty hard if you are painting on concrete, since it absorbs the paint (so a base paint is annoyingly difficult).

That night, we split up into two groups of four and one of three and went to some of the villagers’ houses as guests for dinner. My group (Team Awesome) was composed of Kathryn, Mary Lindemuth, Jordanne, and me. Chris dropped us off and we were seated in a really small shack with African hip hop radio playing in the background, barely large enough to hold six of us. We tried to make small talk (they didn’t speak any English) with limited success and eventually had mandazi (scones) and chai. The real meal was rice and beans with beef and fish, and it was actually pretty good. Afterwards, they busted out a tape player and we danced around casually for over an hour. Then they gave us a chicken. It was a good night.

Today we’re gonna try to finish up the paint job and probably just play with the girls. It doesn’t feel like our last day – anything but. I don’t want to have to leave, but it is still something I am looking forward to – getting to go back home and be with friends and eat out with my family, all of which I feel I have taken for granted. I’m not sure I’m looking forward to all of the news and media, all of the fashionably clothed people, how you can live and interact with people on the streets without ever really finding out who they are.

6/28/07 – Between Dar Es Salaam and Dubai
Leave it to a five hour layover followed by a five hour flight to ruin momentum, but there’s still no better time to write this. Yesterday was our last full day in Africa. We woke up and worked on the cow barn foundation for a little before stopping to play with the girls. We colored and joked around and after lunch, we took a bunch of pictures and videos of them singing and dancing. That night, Chris had figured we could go to some place where the fishermen hang out so that we could catch the sunset over Lake Victoria. It wasn’t a long drive, but it was a drive nevertheless, which turned out to be the problem because we ended up with half of the car stuck in a ditch of mud. 20 or 30 minutes later with 10 or 15 villagers and a swarm of kids, we had the car out. So we missed out on the sunset coming on the water, but we got to watch pregnant women dig a Land Rover out of mud. We even saw a rabid dog. Talk about something special…

We came back and played a game of Spoons with empty water bottles and then a “campfire game.” We then went to go be with the kids, and they gave us a short farewell presentation and Mama Tisla spoke for a little bit about God and His presence and work. The girls sang and we shared our experiences and Rachel sang and it was all pretty remarkable [get a copy of the video if you can, it was amazing]. And…I didn’t want to leave. I mean, I do, but…it’s ambivalence.

I wanted to keep being there for them. I wanted to see them grow up, I wanted to be able to hold their hands and play their games and rejoice their successes and mourn their losses and let them know that they were loved intensely and that I was there for them and nothing else and being with them was worth it.

On the other hand, I want to get back on with my life. I want to fit in again, I want to go to Michigan and college. I guess I mostly want to fit in again and get to praise God with a fellowship that I am so comfortably open with. Is that like taking the easy way out? In a way, I think it is.

There is something different on the mission field – different battles. For nearly three weeks here, lust wasn’t a factor, and all the girls weren’t even allowed to show their upper legs and as I got to know everybody, it was clear lust would only hurt them. And now that I am returning for a week before another trip, I have an easy time believing I’m going to be bombarded in the lust department. I don’t want to go back to TV either. Media, fashion, politics, even McDonald’s. The buzz of urban life, the ignorance and stagnancy that commonly seems to result from comfort.

But being here means…support seems to fall short. Maybe I have not invested in everyone as heavily as I should have or could have. The battle is somewhat that I am by myself with God, with no one else. And this is far from bad, but I’d like to get back to my friends and family, where it is so much easier to feel like I’m loved.

So I am split…

LEAVING TANZANIA - 6/29/07 – Between Dubai and NYC – about 4 am?
Leave it to an eleven hour flight, a good movie, and the shopping in the Dubai international airport to make everything seem better, a lot better than after that five hour layover in Dar es Salaam. Anticipation peaks even more for the return home, though there is still around at least eleven hours before we reach Tulsa. It seems once we land in NYC, we’ll be home free, and the four or so hours to Cincinnati and Tulsa will be the last 400 of any distance race.

I didn’t know what to buy my family. It’s kind of a big deal since I missed both my mom and sisters’ birthdays and Father’s Day. I got bowls and coasters for people from youth group and then congas (skirts or tablecloths) for Ruth and mom’s boss and others and some Toblerone Mini’s at the airport since I really didn’t know what to buy (at least Toblerone makes more sense to me than buying wooden animals or spoons…regardless, I’m a terrible shopper). And just now I have realized what I can get for my dad. And I’ve never really gotten anything meaningful for my dad, so this is a big deal, and it might sound like a bad idea, but I’m going to try it. A Beatles CD.

I remember he used to like the Beatles, from some comment he made years ago about a Beatle anthology infomercial. And, I mean, he could not like it. It might not change anything. But the one thing I’ve learned from being with the orphans is that they hold on to hope, that everything will work out in the end. I didn’t want to go back to Tulsa because I knew it would be harder. I would run into the same fights I’ve been facing for years, things like lust and my dad and stagnancy or irresponsibility. But I can still hope things will be different. I can hope each day lasts just as long in Tulsa as it does in Africa and I can hope running means just as much. I can hope youth group is pointed in the direction of something big, something God-big, and I can hope things at home don’t fall apart. I can hope in God that I don’t fall out of it and I can know that God’s love changes people and I can know that hope does not disappoint (Romans 5).

I wonder what I will do when I get home. My first meal. Will I turn on the TV or will I fall asleep? Will I cry when I see my family, will I laugh and rejoice, will I see that something big is happening or that something big has in fact already happened? I think I will…regardless of what it looks like. I think I can know these things.

So…this is it. Trip’s over. Conclusions will follow, but really things are beginning just as they’re ending. Michigan and OU, signs of independence. And the question is who will I become? I mean, I have these conceptions of who I want. I’ll work out this summer, run fast and play a lot of basketball, maybe ultimate Frisbee. I’ll be a musician and I’ll be more social and I’ll be a student, a rather busy one, and I’ll maybe have a job. And is this not all irrelevant? At the end of the day, will I be closer, more committed to God? Will I be dropping everything to follow? Would I lay down all these dreams and conceptions simply for God’s approval? Even if means rejection? Even if it means…I’ll have nothing?

And looking back, I think things will be okay. I see that my heart hasn’t always been in the right place and I’ve done countless stupid things, but God won’t let us go. He moves us around. Sends us places life Africa, puts us in challenges and storms. Because it’s conditioning. He’s making us more like Him, He’s teaching us how love and faith and hope change absolutely everything. Because He won’t let go. It sounds weird, but He’s desperately holding on to us. And that’s what this was all about. God holding on. To all of us.

6/30/07 – Atlanta Airport – about 7 pm
We landed in NYC at about 9 after our 11 or 12 hour flight to Dubai, giving us an uncomfortable hour and a half to get through customs and retrieve and check in our luggage before our flight to Cincinnati to get us back home by 2:40. But the thing is – our 10:30 Cincinnati flight didn’t actually exist. The flight numbers we had didn’t even exist. We spent about an hour and a half working things out and we were finally set up for a 1:15 flight to Atlanta followed by a 6:30 to Tulsa to get us home by 7:30.

But Atlanta was postponed until 2:30. Turns out they didn’t know what kind of plane they had either. They didn’t even have enough seats for everyone – they overbooked. Only because we complained did we get to board at 2:30 (when we should have been leaving) and even then there were only about ten seats left, so we barely made it on, and then I think they just let whoever complained the most on after us until the plane was full. We were with people who had just come back from Iraq, someone who was supposed to sing at a wedding and would be late, someone who had been trying to get to Cincinnati for a day and still couldn’t get set up with a flight.

Three hours later and several disturbingly long taxiing dilemmas, we were getting into the Atlanta airport at 6:20, and our flight was to leave at 6:30, and they usually close the boarding gates 15 minutes prior to take off. We found out the flight was delayed to 6:40, but that did little to ease our drives to get home (we couldn’t spend another night away from home – it’s been 39 hours of flight so far). I was fortunate to be the runner. I took off sprinting for the gate – C35. All the adrenaline aside, it was just really fun – dodging people as if a high speed chase, myself against time, maneuvering my way past pedestrians and baggage. About a quarter mile later – literally one side of the concourse level to the other, I got to C35 in time to learn our flight was actually at gate C24, though our tickets read C35. A devoted eighth or so of a mile later and an adrenaline mixed with fear a Delta worker couldn’t nave understood, we made our flight.

I didn’t think we would run into problems coming back – I thought everything would run smoothly and on time, just as planned. But it turns out that nearly all of our flights were delayed, and one didn’t even exist. Talk about adventure. I wrote three weeks ago, “But the days have lost their energy and shine and they roll off before I can take advantage of them.” Now, I can’t help from smiling and thinking this is answered prayer.

And another thing – don’t fly Delta.

Conclusion
A couple days ago I was dwelling on the idea that the world might be a better place if we treated everybody like orphans, like those who had been abandoned and mistreated and abused and deserved our love and attention. But now, I think it might be better if we saw ourselves as orphans instead, who count any kind of glory or opportunity or affection a blessing and a privilege, not a right or an obligation or a burden.

What I learned from working with those eight orphans is that they are the perfect example of how you can have nothing and still be loved. Because all of them came off the streets or were abused in their homes; all of them were overlooked, rejected, undervalued, and violated. And God was still there and these were the ones He died for – He is the life to their death.

And they are perhaps an even better example of how you can have nothing and still love. Love life and love people and love God. You couldn’t know just by reading this what these girls taught me by the way they live their lives. You wouldn’t be able to see the joy and enthusiasm they express in everything they do and have. You wouldn’t be able to see their smiles and how they would run to us with open arms and you wouldn’t be able to hear their songs and laughter and feel the love in their eyes and the hope emanating from their hearts.

And if you could know all these things, you would struggle to hold back tears, because you would know that this is the way we should be living our lives.

It was around the start of the second week when I went over to the house where the orphans were and left them my Rubik’s cube because they were playing with it. On our very last night, we went back and they had this whole presentation for us – Mama Tisla preached and the girls sang and we talked about our experiences and what we would remember and they sang more songs and we prayed. And I was starting to see that these girls were really something special, and though they had been hurt and clearly didn’t have what others had, they were getting loved on so much here and now.

Sitting there at the very end of our prayer time, I wondered if I could ask the girls to return my Rubik’s Cube; I soon realized it would have been pointless and I would have been making a mistake if I did. I had just learned that my pride and accomplishments would never abound for anything. Because I was hurt, just like these girls, and how fast I could solve a Rubik’s Cube wouldn’t make a difference. We were all hurt, just like these girls, but the difference is that we throw news and bragging rights and spiritual jargon and social economics into the picture and we bury ourselves deeper. That is how America can be just as poor and destitute as Tanzania, one of the poorest nations in the world. Because our problems are only hidden, structured into society. With money and religion and pride and this mentality that just as long as you have a big house and a lot of friends, you won’t have any problems.

And so, my dilemma was would I have liked to get really good at my Rubik’s Cube, or would I have given it away for someone else to enjoy, even if they never knew what it really was? And the girls didn’t exactly need either option. The one thing they didn’t need was for me to have pride and falsely make myself seem smarter because of something I did. The one thing they needed was a friend, someone who could identify with their problems and who would accept them for themselves. And since I am just as broken, what I don’t need is pride and a sense of self-righteousness. What I simply need is a friend. Someone who identifies with me, someone who truly accepts and truly forgives and truly loves. And I think this is who everyone needs – someone who loves them so much that they might die for them to live and yet someone who associates with them and would pick them above anyone else to spend an afternoon.

So I left them my Rubik’s Cube.