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Boston Bound

August 23, 2010 in Travel 2

Wow! 21 comments over just three days on a post that is almost five months old is definitely a record for us here at Enigmatic Meanderings. I don’t quite think it was the goal that my brother was shooting for. However, since dusting this thing off has been something I’ve wanted to do for awhile, I guess we’ll go ahead and call it a win.

So… Craig, Heather, Lori, Ronda, Kristi, Shane, Amy, Mom, Teofilo, DUDA, Dad, Ramsey, Kimberly, Tarik, Jane, Sarandipity, Taffy, and lk (is this really Lori with a different email address trying to up the number of comments?) this one’s for you.

I apologize up front for its lack of depth.

Today, I’m headed to Boston. That’s right.  The home of the Red Sox, the Bruins, the Celtics, the Patriots, Harvard, M.I.T., an actual tea party that actually stood for something and evidently a law firm that used to employ William Shatner and James Spader until it got canceled.

Why am I going?

Continue Reading…

Feed My Lambs

July 28, 2009 in Conviction, For Real, Travel 1

When they got out on land, they saw a charcoal fire in place, with fish laid out on it, and bread. Jesus said to them, “Bring some of the fish that you have just caught.”

So Simon Peter went aboard and hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, 153 of them. And although there were so many, the net was not torn. Jesus said to them, “Come and have breakfast.”

Now none of the disciples dared ask him, “Who are you?” They knew it was the Lord. Jesus came and took the bread and gave it to them, and so with the fish.  This was now the third time that Jesus was revealed to the disciples after he was raised from the dead.

When they had finished breakfast, Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Simon, son of John, do you love me more than these?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Feed my lambs.”

He said to him a second time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” He said to him, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” He said to him, “Tend my sheep.”

He said to him the third time, “Simon, son of John, do you love me?” Peter was grieved because he said to him the third time, “Do you love me?” and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep. Truly, truly, I say to you, when you were young, you used to dress yourself and walk wherever you wanted, but when you are old, you will stretch out your hands, and another will dress you and carry you where you do not want to go.” (This he said to show by what kind of death he was to glorify God.) And after saying this he said to him, “Follow me.”

John 21:9-19

Right off the bat, let me say that I’m not going to the exegete this passage or give a devotional or anything.  I just don’t want you to have that expectation and be disappointed.  Rather, in my short blogging hiatus, I’ve been trying to think of a way in which to talk about my latest trip to South Africa without simply giving you a play-by-play of what I did while there.  This particular Scripture passage will help me do that.

So, part of what normally happens when I go this time of year is I help my parents and whoever else is over there host a day camp for kids.  The first year I went the camp I helped with was at a place called Refilwe.  The past few years we’ve been at a school in the Mamelodi township in partnership with Berakah Educational Foundation.  Now, at both Refilwe and in Mamelodi we are working with what most would definitely consider to be “the least of these,” poverty stricken children.  Being able to serve these kids each year is a highlight for me, to say the least.  I expected nothing less this year.

Once I arrived and was sitting down with my parents to kinda hear their plan, we decided what I would do is work in the kitchen each day cooking the lunch for the kids except on the third day of the camp.  The focus for that day was to be on “salvation,” and it was decided that I’d teach the Bible study for everyone (they rotate through stations during the day, so I’d teach the same Bible study four or five different times).  Now, I got more excited about this assignment than any I’d had in previous years.  Why?  Mainly because of the passage above.

You see, there’s obviously a connection between loving Jesus and caring for His “sheep,” His people, His children.  This was most definitely true for Simon Peter and I believe it’s true for us as well.  Now, I don’t think that means Jesus was calling Peter to be a chef or anything.  However, when He said “feed my lambs,” He was doing so have just previously literally prepared and offered His followers a breakfast.  Now, at this year’s camp, I was going to have the opportunity to “feed” the kids both physically and spiritually.  What a responsibility!  What an opportunity!  What an honor and privilege!

However, this year’s camp I was helping with wasn’t at Refilwe or Mamelodi.  This particular camp was being hosted at a school in Atteridgeville.  The school is a private Christian school.  Many of the kids who go there are scholarshipped, but many are not as well.  Atteridgeville has some very poor areas and can be pretty rough, but it also has a large middle-class population.  So, there were a lot of kids there who had cell phones and talked about their computers and some who had even been to the States and visited Disneyland.  Also, since so many of them attend a Christian school. they had a lot of the “answers,” at least to the basics.

Now, let me be perfectly open and honest with you for a moment.  Since this was the case, I was kinda not as into it, I don’t think.  I mean it’s one thing to spend all morning cooking for some kids who might not have another meal that day.  It’s quite another to do so for kids who get picky about what you give them and even whine when it’s not something they really like.  It’s one thing to present the Gospel to someone who’s never heard the name of Jesus before or has a very warped understanding of who He is.  It’s quite another to try to do so to a roomful of kids who are either bored listening because they’ve heard it all many times before or who won’t let you hardly get a word out because they want to tell the story for you.

Or is it?

I found myself thinking that it’s two different things, but I forced myself to acknowledge that it’s not.  Fixing lunch and teaching the Bible to the poor makes me feel good because I see their need so easily.  Even the smallest morsels of food or knowledge that I have to offer are way more than they could dream of.  So, it’s easy for me to help them.  And this makes me feel really good, like I’m really doing something and doing something big.  But this year… well, this year was different.  Their “need” wasn’t as apparent.  Doest that mean it wasn’t there?  No.  Not at all.  But it was different.  I didn’t feel as good because it wasn’t as easy and what I had to offer didn’t stretch as far.  In fact, for me to make the same kind of impact actually required more from me, more giving, more compassion, more sacrifice.  I was still feeding lambs, but it took more for me to do it, which was actually good.

I won’t assume right now to speak for anyone else, though I think I could.  Instead, I’ll just speak for myself.  I go on these trips every year, sometimes with Servant Life or Compassion, other times just because I want to.  I go to serve, to do “God’s work,” to help the “least of these,” and I’m right to do so.  For sure.  No doubt about it.  And I’m pretty good at it… at the very least I “help” more than the average American.  That’s what I tell myself, anyway.  But when it comes to helping those I don’t perceive as “the least of these,” whoever and wherever they might be (though I have to admit, most of those I don’t see that way are the people I’m surrounded by all the time in my own country), I’m one of the worst.  I don’t serve them well at all.  Sure, I can come up with excuses and even some legitimate reasons as to why… but that’s all just hot air.

Jesus asks, “do you love me?”

I reply, “Lord, you know I love you.”

Jesus says, “feed my sheep.”

He doesn’t put any qualifiers on it, for the rich or the poor.

Why do I?

See You Soon

July 14, 2009 in Random, Travel 0

I’ll be back in the States tomorrow.

I know you missed me.

Sanibona!

July 6, 2009 in Travel 1

As you’re reading this, I should have been in South Africa for a few days now.  If not, then, I hope I’m at least somewhere interesting.

There’s a number of purposes for my trip here.

1.  To see family.  Mom, Dad and Alfie usually spend about half the year here, and I miss them.  So, I enjoy coming to visit them and hange out and everything.

2.  Servant Life.  Most of you know that in addition to my job at Student Life I get the chance to serve on the board for a little non-profit we started and support called Servant Life.  Right now we partner with four ministries in three countries to send American students to work with them for short periods of time.  Mission Sebenzela, my parents’ ministry here in South Africa, is one of those partners.  So, I’m here with Maggie from Virginia and Brittany from Texas.  I’m sure they’re having a great time.

3.  Camp.  What we’re doing specifically for most of the week is hosting a day camp for kids.  We’ll see a few hundred and it will be a blast.  This particular one is hosted at the school Alfie attends when he’s here in ZA.

4.  Orphanages.  Liza aand I have known we want to adopt for years  Before Story came along we were really wrestling with whether or not it was time to go that route.  Now that Story is here we’re not as in as much of a hurry, but it’s something that we still want to do.  I’ve wanted to adopt from Africa since I was in high school.  When Alfie entered our family, that kinda focused things for me.  There’s a number of challenges to American’s adopting from South Africa (not all of which I understand), but I’m hoping to have the chance to talk to some people while I”m here just to begin to get a good grasp on what the process is going to look like when we finally get there.

5.  Renewal.  This trip isn’t really a vacation by any means.  Rest and relaxation are definitely not the goals.  However, these types of trips always help to focus me and kind of renew my spirit, if you will.  Maybe that doesn’t make sense to you.  Some people want to go lay on a beach.  Others want to lose themselves amongst the mountains.  Some want to explore a new city or immerse themselves in fine culture.  I like all that, too.  But for me, I’d much rather be hanging out with some kids in a country half-way around the world.  But that’s just me.

Anyway, thanks for keeping up with me while I’m gone.  Hopefully, I’ll be posting some more pertinent info about the actual trip.

Until then… Sizobonana!

Ukraine Bound

March 19, 2009 in Travel 0

So I’m headed to Ukraine today. Roger and I are going to meet with our friends from Radooga. Many of you know I get to serve on the board of an organization called Servant Life (check us out at servantlife.com). We send groups on short term mission experiences where they primarily host camp type experiences for kids and teenagers. Right now we work with partners in Ecuador, South Africa and Ukraine. Radooga is one of the organizations we work with in Ukraine. So, as I was saying, Roger and I are zipping over there for the weekend to just see some of what they’re doing and dream with them a bit about the future.

I’m on the plane in B’ham right now about to fly to Atlanta then Paris then Kiev. I’m on the plane. Roger is not. Maybe he’ll catch up in the ATL. I’ll let you know.

Until then…

And Who Is My Enemy?

March 10, 2009 in Christianity, Conviction, God, Let's Be Honest, Ministry, Questions, Travel 1

On one occasion an expert in the law stood up to test Jesus. “Teacher,” he asked, “what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“What is written in the Law?” he replied. “How do you read it?”

He answered: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind,’ and, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”

“You have answered correctly,” Jesus replied. “Do this and you will live.”

But he wanted to justify himself, so he asked Jesus, “And who is my neighbor?”

Luke 10:25-29

I’ve been thinking about this post for a while. Actually, I’ve been thinking about it for a long while, not this post in particular but definitely about the subject. I really started thinking about it more often once President Obama pretty much locked his party’s nomination last year during which time I heard him called a terrorist, a communist, a racist, a murderer, and the Antichrist (and that was all just in emails I received).  Thinking about this subject began to consume significant amounts of my time the night of the election when I sat in bed watching the results come in from across the country while simultaneously checking tweets and Facebook status updates continually.  As I watched crowds of people from all walks of life in Grant Park swell with pride that manifested itself in both cheers and tears, I read comments from my friends, some of you even, from people I respect, that made me grieve.

In all the name-calling I heard thrown the President’s way, rarely did I hear “Christian,” and if I did, it was from political pundits analzing his campaign on CNN or MSNBC (but not Fox News) and not from any of his fellow brothers or sisters.  But I don’t want to talk about President Obama, not specifcially anyway.  He’s not what I was spending so much time thinking about (though maybe I should have).  The topic that has been concerning me so much and that is the subject of this post is simply what I wrote above in the title.

And who is my enemy?

In Luke 10 (in the Bible) we’ve got this great scene that plays out.  Some lawyer comes up to Jesus because he’s sat around and figured out what he considers to be an inquiry that at the very least will test if he’s worth his weight in matzah and at the very best could actually reveal him to be the Messiah.  He asks Jesus what he has to do to live forever  Jesus, being the sly teacher that he is, responds with his own question, basically asking the lawyer to sum up the Law he so devotedly serves.

Now, remember, we’re not just talking about the big 10 here.  The Mosaic Law had been expanded to include 613 different statutes with a bunch of extra rabbinical writing added on top to explain and define the 613.  This was no easy task and was basically a theological minefield that consisted of one giant land mine.  However, the guy gets it right.  He actually gives the exact same answer that Jesus himself gives in Matthew 22 and Mark 12 when asked, “what is the greatest commandment?”  So, this is no late-night-commercial ambulance-chaser.  This guy’s got goods, and Jesus acknowledges it.

“That’s right,” he says.  “Do that and you’ll live forever.”

Now, don’t forget, as smart as this guy might be, Jesus is the teacher in this situation.  He’s leading this guy on.  He knows there’s no way possible for this lawyer to actually keep those commandments.  Let’s forget the other 611 for a moment.  Try for one day to, one hour, even, perhaps just a moment, to live fully those two laws and you’ll come up short every time.  The smart lawyer knows this too.  So, he wants to back himself off a little bit, get himself off the hook.

He asks, “and who is my neighbor?”

Jesus answers with the story of the Good Samaritan.  I won’t exegete the whole parable here (there’s much better people than me who have done so elsewhere).  I’ll just say this.  His answer to this question was basically, “everyone’s your neighbor, even the person you detest more than any other, the most wretched, foul, on-the-fringe human being you can conceive of, whether they can reward or return your love or not… that’s your neighbor.” (Those are my words, obviously… I’m paraphrasing, in a way)

I think we… we who seek the Christ, the Son of the living God, to know Him, to know His will and obey it… we who carry the Gospel of the righteousness of God and serve as His ambassadors to a lost and dying world… we who claim to know and love the Word of God, His revelation of Himself to all humankind… I think we don’t often enough ask, “who is my neighbor?”

Most of us seem to be much more interested in wondering, “who is my enemy?”

Of course we’re not so overt in our inquiry.  In fact, the only reason we want so badly to know who our enemies are is so that we know who we’re against.  And as is the case who were against is directly correlated to what we’re against.  So, once we know what we’re against we can then know what we’re for.  At least that’s how it looks to those on the outside.  This convoluted public persona we’ve propagated has us giving the appearance that our principles, values, convictions and beliefs are much more defined by what we don’t stand for as opposed to what we do.  At the very least this is a colossal image problem in dire need of a makeover.  At the worst, it’s an indictment on all of us (Christians, that is).

My favorite performance poet, Taylor Mali, has a piece entitled Silver-Lined Heart (you can download it on iTunes if you’re interested) that’s pretty much addressed to other poets, particularly those on the slam circuit, that too often distinguish themselves and make their points in a similar way to what I’m talking about.  He ends this poem with following stanza.

So don’t waste my time and your curses on verses
about what you are against, despise, and abhor.
Tell me what inspires you, what fulfills and fires you,
put your precious pen to paper and tell me what you’re for!

I don’t know about you, but I’m with Taylor.  I’m sick of us on TV and in our pulpits and in front of our youth groups and in our endlessly forwarded emails railing against all of “those people.”  Those Gays.  Those Democrats.  Those Republicans.  Those Muslims.  Those Rednecks.  Those Pagans.  Those baby-killing doctors.  Those welfare mothers.  Those gun-toting cowboys.  Those Asians.  Those Africans.  Those Mormons.  Those Catholics.  Those Baptists.  Those crazy Pentecostals.  Those stuck-up Anglicans.  Those Arabs.  Those Terrorists.  Those French.  Most of us can barely tolerate each other (any Christian that doesn’t go to our church and at least half of the ones that do) much less the rest of the people we’re supposed to be introducing to Jesus.

And before you get all over my case and accuse me of being all high and mighty and exhort me to get down off my pedestal, let me be clear that, as the apostle Paul said so eloquently, I am chief amongst sinners.  And so are you.

And sure there are and are going to be things worth fighting for and that require confrontation.  We shouldn’t be a doormat for anyone.  Meek doesn’t mean weak.  Just ask Jesus.  If you believe that as a Christian President Obama is blowing some things, then as a fellow believer you have an inherent duty to call him on it.  But there is a difference between disciplining and damning.  There is a difference between confrontation and combat.  There is a difference being holy and being holier-than-thou.  There is a difference between being righteous and just being right.  There is certainly a difference between love and hate.  And just in case you missed it there are differences between us and it looks to me like that’s how God intended it.  Turns out our Creator is pretty creative.

I’m embarrassed at the picket signs and accompanying shouts touting what some people errently believe God to hate.  I’m embarrassed that the best press a religious youth event can get is when it involves a screaming match outside on the steps between two rival groups of “sinners” and “saints.”  I’m embarrassed when moralism replaces Godly living.  I’m embarrassed about how I’m represented on television by spokesmen for my faith foaming at the mouth in righteous indignation over what they believe they’ve suffered at the hands of the liberal media elite.  I’m embarrassed at the political environments that rule so many of our churches and ministries.  I’m embarrassed… for me… for them… for you.  And the closer I get to the heart of God, however small those incriments might be, the more weary, burdened and sad I get… because that’s how I think He feels about it.

We Christians seem to be incapable (or at least ill-prepared) of combating the evil around us because we cannot separate that evil from people to whom we attach it.  For that reason, we are in constant sin.  Sure there are going to be those who persecute us, who seek our destruction, who want to alienate us and shut us up, who even kill us and who hate us.  Of course there are.  Remember from John 15, they hated Jesus first.  But I want to be hated because I’m like Him, not because I represent Him poorly.  And even when I am hated, I am never justified to respond to anyone who feels that way in the same manner.  Never.

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

Ephesians 6:12

You see, the question of “who is my enemy” is a moot point.  It doesn’t matter the least little bit.  Why?  Because anyone who’s my enemy is also my neighbor, and even if they weren’t, I’m to respond to them in kind. “But I tell you who hear me: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you…”  LOVE!!! Come on!

That verse is from Luke 6, by the way.  Verse 27 to be exact.  Now go read the rest of the chapter and think on these things.

That’s all for me right now.  I’ve got to go repent of the hatred I felt for some of my fellow Christ-followers I felt in writing this post.  Hopefully, this was part of the cleansing process for me.  Maybe it will be for you too.

May the grace of God be with you… and with me.

Compassion Philippines

June 6, 2008 in Christianity, Compassion, Ministry, Travel 3

I think this video speaks for itself.

Now, click on the link to the right and sponsor a child.

Please.

Amen. Come.

May 1, 2008 in Questions, Random, Travel 5

What are you looking at?

Don’t Get Jealous…

March 25, 2008 in Random, Sarcasm, Travel 5

…of these two sexy guys.

kinsleytaylor.jpg

The Philippine Chronicles, 8

March 18, 2008 in Compassion, Conviction, Ministry, Travel 1

To be perfectly honest, today was a hard day.  That’s kind of ridiculous for me to say considering what the day actually consisted of, but it’s true nonetheless, at least for me.

We spent most of the morning at a market so we could get stuff for people back home.  I don’t know what you’re picturing when you read “market,” but it wasn’t like a bunch of stands or shacks or anything.  It was actually kinda like a third-world strip mall made up of a bunch of little stores.  This was decently fun.  I actually get into bargaining with the sellers, which you wouldn’t think about me considering my personality.  However, it was tough ‘cause they were really stubborn.  I walked out on a few deals I was trying to work.  Usually that will send people chasing after you so that you can enter into another round of negotiations.  Not here in the Philippines.  They didn’t sweat it at all.

Once everyone had dropped way too many pesos considering what we’ve been seeing all week (myself included), we went to lunch.  There Nice and Rafonzel (two of the LDP graduates) presented us all with gifts.  I’ll save what they are so that some of you can be surprised.  Nice had also contacted her aunt who carved Student Life an eagle out of coconut husks.  It looks amazing, but I really have no idea how we’re going to get it home safely.  I think BoBe has been tasked with that responsibility.  Wish him luck.

Over lunch we discussed how the Filipinos wanted us to try one more food.  Supposedly you can’t say you’ve been to Davao until you have eaten some durian.  Durian is some kind of fruit.  It’s difficult to describe.  It is shaped like a melon but looks spiky like a pineapple, but it’s green in color.  Once you cracked it open it looked kinda like it consisted of four avocado pits with the flesh of the fruit surrounding these large seeds.  The locals have a saying about it.  “Durian tastes like Heaven, but it smells like Hell.”  And it does… smell like Hell I mean.  It stinks.  The moment the van doors opened at the fruit stand you could smell it.  As far as it tasting like Heaven, though, not so much.  Rafonzel told me that there are different kinds.  Some durian can be super-sweet, while others can be sweet and bitter.  This one leaned towards the bitter end of the spectrum.  It actually tasted like guacamole (you read that right, not avocado, guacamole with all the onions and stuff added).

We also sampled a couple of other fruits.  One was called mangostine (not sure about the spelling).  It’s what you would get if you crossed a plumb with an orange.  It was delicious.  I recommended they now say that you haven’t visited Davao until you’ve eaten a mangostine, but they insisted that durian is really where it’s at.

While we were at the fruit stand, we experienced one of the more difficult situations we’ve encountered since we’ve been here.  I’m sure some other people will be writing about this, but I’ll go ahead and do it too so that you can get a number of different perspectives.

The minute our vans pulled up there were street kids outside (well, evidently they probably weren’t all street kids, but Roger might can tell you about that), and they started knocking on our doors and windows.  Some of them had things to sell but most were just outright begging.  Our van door opened and when I stepped out there was a little girl, maybe 6 or 7 years old, holding a naked baby boy who might have been 18 months (I’m not the best judge of children’s ages).  She never really spoke but would get your attention and then point to the boy’s belly and then his mouth, indicating he was hungry obviously.  She’d then hold her hand out for something.

A lot of you know that I usually give something to someone who is begging even in the states.  I’ve been taken advantage of by that a number of times, but I still do it pretty consistently.  Here I really didn’t have anything left, and there were just so many of them.  I was really having trouble processing it all.  The closest I could come was to think, “I wish you were involved with Compassion.”  Afterwards I found out that many of us were thinking that exact same thing.

Now you may be asking yourself, “how do they know that one of those kids isn’t involved with Compassion?”  Well, trust me… I know.  Compassion makes such a difference in the lives of these children (and obviously I know that God is the one actually making the difference through Compassion) that even though they come from the same communities and same life situations, they behave differently.  They have confidence.  They have pride (the good kind).  They have dignity.

We drove away with them staring after us (actually, first, some of them grabbed some fruit from Callie as she was trying to pass it out to them and they proceeded to fight each other for it).  It was an extremely sobering moment.  That’s yet another reason I’m an advocate.  So that more people can help Compassion help more children in more places.

We traveled back to Manila tonight.  We had a final dinner with Noel, the Compassion country director for the Philippines, and Kiwi and Daniel (two of the other LDP graduates).  They also presented us with gifts.  It seems there is no end to the hospitality of the Filipino people, regardless of life circumstance.

The rest of our day has been full of goodbyes and questions.  Goodbyes to all of the friends we’ve made in the short time we’ve been here.  Questions about what the future holds, specifically if we can get Kiwi, Daniel and Nice over to the states for the summer.  It sucks.  And it’s hard.  But I trust God.  I really do.  I know that He desires to change the lives of children in all twenty-four countries in the world in which Compassion works, and I know that He desires to change the lives of teenagers in the U.S.  I believe that one of the ways in which He accomplishes both is through the relationship of an American teenage sponsor and their Compassion child.  It really does change two lives.  So, I know that He is working out His will and purpose for how to best make those connections this summer.  But I desperately yearn for Him to choose to do that by bringing these other LDP graduates.

That is my prayer, and I pray it confidently and humbly.  Please, join me.

In a few hours we’ll wake up and head to the airport to fly to Tokyo for a day.  Yet another extreme moment of culture shock, I’m sure.

Signing off…

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