February 11th, 2010
Leaving from Siaya, we tarried far too long. We had a long drive ahead of us, probably 2 hours. The thing about Kenyan roads is that potholes can be the size of small cows, trucks win because they have mass, don’t care, and are driving to some obscure deadline (ironically), and there are no lines in the middle or the side of the road. Compounding that terror, pedestrians, goats, cattle, human-driven carts, donkey-driven carts, motorcycles, bicycles, and any contraption in between ALL SHARE THE ROAD. This happens day and night. And at night, since there are no streetlights, and the African people have an automatic night-time camouflage, the drive is utterly terrifying.
It was obvious that we were getting into hairy situations when the sun was setting and we were only halfway to home. We bobbed, we weaved, we slammed on the brakes numerous times, we jockeyed, we prayed and eventually we made it home. When we saw the shore of Lake Victoria after the last rise, we broke into song- Malcom and me perhaps moreso than Rose and Paul, for whom this kind of driving is normal. Egad.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Africa 2010 - See-Eye-Ah
February 11th, 2010
One of the bishops, George Barrack, gave us a key to Siaya to remember the region – See Eye Ah. This is a fertile place, an hour outside of Kisumu, where Paul grew up. When we arrived to a tiny, clean, steel-roofed church, the children began by singing to us in Swahili. We were treated with honor and it was obvious that we were the first white people that some of the children had ever seen.
Malcolm preached a 2 hour lesson, about Stewardship and Sacrifice. He felt moved, prior to speaking, to ask for the blessing of one of the obvious elders in the village. He was shakey from old age, but had a steely gaze and a warmth about him. Malcolm knelt before this man who laid hands on Malcolm’s head and prayed for him in Swahili. After a short, powerful benediction, Malcolm got up and hugged him and the man hugged him back – as brothers in Christ, from 2 sides of the world. Paul was sitting in the corner just smiling. He exclaimed “that’s my father!”. We all were astonished and deeply thankful, and truly had no idea that this man Malcolm felt led to ask, was related at all. The Lord was marvelous and lifted up during that teaching.
After the teaching, we were invited up to the village to a feast. It was authentic Kenyan meal, fried liver, maize, rice, cabbage, soups, and rolled flat bread. It was delicious and we were treated like kings. There was also enough food for 20 people. So when we were finished, some of the men of the village came and took the food to the other houses. I later learned that when Africans have visitors, they show them incredible hospitality and have a saying “When the visitors come, the whole village eats”. Perhaps that is why we had so much food put before us.
We left the village, after a happy send off, including my showing the kids how to juggle their “soccer ball”. The ball was built of dozens of grocery bags bundled up and kept together with rubber bands. They thought it was a hoot that this Mizungu (Swahili for “white dude”) was pretty good at soccer. Every time I muffed and kicked the ball away, some beautiful kid would scamper off and pick it up and throw it back to me. What a treat.
Our next stop was to Paul’s mother’s home, only a mile away from the church. She was sick and her feet were causing her much pain. Paul said it was arthritis. We arrived at a clearing and walked about a hundred yards along a hillside trail. We came upon mud and wattle homes, with thatched roofs. In one of the older ones, a sweet woman was sitting in the dark. No electricity, no plumbing, only a single room with a bed stacked in the corner. Her face was lined with worry and wrinkles from a hard life. She was authentically African. I shall never forget her face. Malcolm and I prayed over her and asked the Lord to reach down and heal her body. We chatted with her for a while, all the while worry lines crossing her brow and her mouth. We eventually left to head back to Kisumu.
Prologue: The Lord did not heal Paul’s mother. Indeed, the answer was different than anyone was expecting. This precious woman died two days later. It was a hard hitting fact for both of us that life is so indeed out of our control to manipulate, stretch, or breathe into. I actually snuck two pictures of Paul’s mother and one picture of her feet beside Paul’s. I don’t know exactly why I did this. I didn’t want to intrude on the sacred moment of prayer with my camera, but I felt that it was important. Those 2 pictures were the last pictures ever taken of this woman, who is now pain-free in the arms of Jesus. Of that, I am sure.
One of the bishops, George Barrack, gave us a key to Siaya to remember the region – See Eye Ah. This is a fertile place, an hour outside of Kisumu, where Paul grew up. When we arrived to a tiny, clean, steel-roofed church, the children began by singing to us in Swahili. We were treated with honor and it was obvious that we were the first white people that some of the children had ever seen.
Malcolm preached a 2 hour lesson, about Stewardship and Sacrifice. He felt moved, prior to speaking, to ask for the blessing of one of the obvious elders in the village. He was shakey from old age, but had a steely gaze and a warmth about him. Malcolm knelt before this man who laid hands on Malcolm’s head and prayed for him in Swahili. After a short, powerful benediction, Malcolm got up and hugged him and the man hugged him back – as brothers in Christ, from 2 sides of the world. Paul was sitting in the corner just smiling. He exclaimed “that’s my father!”. We all were astonished and deeply thankful, and truly had no idea that this man Malcolm felt led to ask, was related at all. The Lord was marvelous and lifted up during that teaching.
After the teaching, we were invited up to the village to a feast. It was authentic Kenyan meal, fried liver, maize, rice, cabbage, soups, and rolled flat bread. It was delicious and we were treated like kings. There was also enough food for 20 people. So when we were finished, some of the men of the village came and took the food to the other houses. I later learned that when Africans have visitors, they show them incredible hospitality and have a saying “When the visitors come, the whole village eats”. Perhaps that is why we had so much food put before us.
We left the village, after a happy send off, including my showing the kids how to juggle their “soccer ball”. The ball was built of dozens of grocery bags bundled up and kept together with rubber bands. They thought it was a hoot that this Mizungu (Swahili for “white dude”) was pretty good at soccer. Every time I muffed and kicked the ball away, some beautiful kid would scamper off and pick it up and throw it back to me. What a treat.
Our next stop was to Paul’s mother’s home, only a mile away from the church. She was sick and her feet were causing her much pain. Paul said it was arthritis. We arrived at a clearing and walked about a hundred yards along a hillside trail. We came upon mud and wattle homes, with thatched roofs. In one of the older ones, a sweet woman was sitting in the dark. No electricity, no plumbing, only a single room with a bed stacked in the corner. Her face was lined with worry and wrinkles from a hard life. She was authentically African. I shall never forget her face. Malcolm and I prayed over her and asked the Lord to reach down and heal her body. We chatted with her for a while, all the while worry lines crossing her brow and her mouth. We eventually left to head back to Kisumu.
Prologue: The Lord did not heal Paul’s mother. Indeed, the answer was different than anyone was expecting. This precious woman died two days later. It was a hard hitting fact for both of us that life is so indeed out of our control to manipulate, stretch, or breathe into. I actually snuck two pictures of Paul’s mother and one picture of her feet beside Paul’s. I don’t know exactly why I did this. I didn’t want to intrude on the sacred moment of prayer with my camera, but I felt that it was important. Those 2 pictures were the last pictures ever taken of this woman, who is now pain-free in the arms of Jesus. Of that, I am sure.
Africa 2010 - Kisumu
February 10, 2010
We flew out on the third day to the working town of Kisumu, on the shores of Lake Victoria (interesting factoid – Lake Victoria is huge, 2nd largest freshwater lake in the world). After the typical small hop jet flight, we landed at a tiny little airport where our bags were taken out and carted to the chainlink fence we were standing by. The waiting area was a covered concrete porch structure. Bishop Paul, a dear friend to Malcolm, and soon to be mine as well, met us with his lovely wife Rose. They picked us up and took us to our hotel, Kiboko Bay (famous for its hippos – Kiboko in Swahili means “hippo”). It was a lovely stay and every day we were refreshed by the water off of Lake Victoria and the fantastic staff.
Bishop Paul oversees several churches and in the morning, he took us to his primary church near his house, in the slums of Kisumu (the Lelonga district), to the “Revival of Salvation Ministries” church. It is a fair sized building, with dirt floors, corrugated steel roof and walls. It seats about 100 or so Kenyan souls with a concrete pad for a stage. The first thing I felt was that these are my Kenyan brothers and sisters – and the Lord loves his church. It was to be my amazing experience that these desperately poor people (majority living below the poverty line of $2 US per day) were wealthy in spirit and grace. We were received with honor and dignity and treated like family. Several times, there was worship, in an authentic Kenyan/Swahili style that was rhythmic, chanting, and utterly praising of the Living God. I was so deeply moved to be in among them, bald head, pasty white kid from the Pacific Northwest, Washington. As I was to learn along this trip, perhaps the greatest natural resource that Kenya has is an indomitable devoted Christian Spirit. It is palpable, transformational, and life-giving.
We taught about Stewardship in Kisumu for 3 days, the first session being for 40+ pastors, who came in specially to hear what we had to say. These are men and women who are actively laying down their lives for their little, or big, flocks. It was an honor to be among them. The next two days we were in the church speaking to both the church folks plus pastors who came in from all around the Kisumu area (and were staying with people from the church). It was incredibly hot inside the steel-roofed church, I had to keep a fan on my laptop and the projector. But the electricity kept up, the preaching kept on, and we drank lots of water.
The main lesson for our African brothers and sisters about Stewardship is Faith, Sacrifice, Success. Many travelling preachers and westerners will come in and try to impress them, or admonish them, then leave. Our mission and calling was to teach that which the Lord had asked us to preach- that their relationship to the Lord, with regard to business, is personal, intentional, and sacrificial. And in fact, that the way out of poverty is not to allow themselves to get into the ever-widening trap of donations by outsiders, but rather by sacrificing of their own resources into their common good (local business, local church, local shared efforts) and to listen to His leading. We were there to help convey some of the very basics of business, but more than anything to encourage their spirits in the resources and value around them, that can be leveraged to feed their own families and communities. This is not something that has never been preached and Malcolm did a great job engaging the communities in the message. Indeed, the reception by the pastors, business people, and congregations was touching.
Lord – allow this seed to grow, that your people might increase in health, in spirit, in prosperity in learning to shrewdly apply your resources so that they might not only simply live, but might transform their very identities. From identities of poverty, to identities of God-Directed Stewards applying existing resources and energy to the benefit of your church and communities.
We flew out on the third day to the working town of Kisumu, on the shores of Lake Victoria (interesting factoid – Lake Victoria is huge, 2nd largest freshwater lake in the world). After the typical small hop jet flight, we landed at a tiny little airport where our bags were taken out and carted to the chainlink fence we were standing by. The waiting area was a covered concrete porch structure. Bishop Paul, a dear friend to Malcolm, and soon to be mine as well, met us with his lovely wife Rose. They picked us up and took us to our hotel, Kiboko Bay (famous for its hippos – Kiboko in Swahili means “hippo”). It was a lovely stay and every day we were refreshed by the water off of Lake Victoria and the fantastic staff.
Bishop Paul oversees several churches and in the morning, he took us to his primary church near his house, in the slums of Kisumu (the Lelonga district), to the “Revival of Salvation Ministries” church. It is a fair sized building, with dirt floors, corrugated steel roof and walls. It seats about 100 or so Kenyan souls with a concrete pad for a stage. The first thing I felt was that these are my Kenyan brothers and sisters – and the Lord loves his church. It was to be my amazing experience that these desperately poor people (majority living below the poverty line of $2 US per day) were wealthy in spirit and grace. We were received with honor and dignity and treated like family. Several times, there was worship, in an authentic Kenyan/Swahili style that was rhythmic, chanting, and utterly praising of the Living God. I was so deeply moved to be in among them, bald head, pasty white kid from the Pacific Northwest, Washington. As I was to learn along this trip, perhaps the greatest natural resource that Kenya has is an indomitable devoted Christian Spirit. It is palpable, transformational, and life-giving.
We taught about Stewardship in Kisumu for 3 days, the first session being for 40+ pastors, who came in specially to hear what we had to say. These are men and women who are actively laying down their lives for their little, or big, flocks. It was an honor to be among them. The next two days we were in the church speaking to both the church folks plus pastors who came in from all around the Kisumu area (and were staying with people from the church). It was incredibly hot inside the steel-roofed church, I had to keep a fan on my laptop and the projector. But the electricity kept up, the preaching kept on, and we drank lots of water.
The main lesson for our African brothers and sisters about Stewardship is Faith, Sacrifice, Success. Many travelling preachers and westerners will come in and try to impress them, or admonish them, then leave. Our mission and calling was to teach that which the Lord had asked us to preach- that their relationship to the Lord, with regard to business, is personal, intentional, and sacrificial. And in fact, that the way out of poverty is not to allow themselves to get into the ever-widening trap of donations by outsiders, but rather by sacrificing of their own resources into their common good (local business, local church, local shared efforts) and to listen to His leading. We were there to help convey some of the very basics of business, but more than anything to encourage their spirits in the resources and value around them, that can be leveraged to feed their own families and communities. This is not something that has never been preached and Malcolm did a great job engaging the communities in the message. Indeed, the reception by the pastors, business people, and congregations was touching.
Lord – allow this seed to grow, that your people might increase in health, in spirit, in prosperity in learning to shrewdly apply your resources so that they might not only simply live, but might transform their very identities. From identities of poverty, to identities of God-Directed Stewards applying existing resources and energy to the benefit of your church and communities.
Africa 2010 - Nairobi – A Bustling, Wandering, Busy Place
February 9th, 2010
In our 2 days of rest, we were ridiculously busy. Most of it was filled with preparing the message and the support material . Malcolm and I were sprawled out in Utugi’s living room, with the portable printer humming and the projector shining onto dark brick and mortar walls. (little powerpoint trick learned here – turning the background to black and text to white makes any rough surface usable). Through a process of Malcolm standing up, walking, and talking, he was able to get the ideas out in a relatively cogent form so that I could capture them with notes, get clarification, and begin to process them into something that could be communicated (ala slide deck).
We wandered into the Vanguard offices both days and took care of some business in town, in Nairobi. Faith was our guide as we walked out of the compound to the first bus stop. We hoped onto a Motato (people mover bus) and wandered into town.
Earlier that morning, I had a fairly funny BGO (blinding glimpse of the obvious). To cover my bald head, I brought a few hats. My favorite is a white jogging hat – lets the heat from my head out, while strolling in fashion (and it’s bendy). That morning I thought to myself, “I wonder if I should wear this, or if it would make me stand out because I would most likely be the only guy wearing a white hat”. The irony is that we were the only white guys on the bus, and maybe .05% of Nairobi was Caucasian. My BGO? “It’s not the hat”.
We meandered, wandered, strolled, and flowed with the bustling people. Nairobi is a busy city. It doesn’t have the urgency or chaos of New York or London, but rather reminds me of people wandering and occasionally stopping every once in a while. There were desperately poor people selling charcoal lumps on the side of the roads. There were government workers burning trash piles (no barrels, just piles) beside the bus stops. There are MPesa signs everywhere (a fairly novel technique where Kenyans send and store monetary value on their phones). And there were the normal routines of business – storefronts, malls, office buildings, schools, ministries, etc.
We also saw significant darkness and oppression. In particular there was one building I found disturbing in the middle of town – it was enormous and ominous. Turns out it was a seat of power for another religion. Members of that same religion were almost glaring at us as we walked the streets of Nairobi. My spiritual radar was on high alert and pinging often.
At the same time, there were obvious and significant signs or grace and redemption – including Faith’s school building where (for a normal office building, with the school administration offices on the 5th floor), the stairwells had planters with encouraging scriptures on it, as we wound counter clockwise up the flights. This was a public building – no ACLU to enforce religious sanitization, or removal of anything of faith where a human eyeball might experience it. This is Kenya – a place where Jesus is spoken of as Messiah and Redeemer. Indeed, as we were to find out – the people of Kenya have a faith that is perhaps their most valuable country resource, greater than their gold, their wilderness, or their fertile land.
In our 2 days of rest, we were ridiculously busy. Most of it was filled with preparing the message and the support material . Malcolm and I were sprawled out in Utugi’s living room, with the portable printer humming and the projector shining onto dark brick and mortar walls. (little powerpoint trick learned here – turning the background to black and text to white makes any rough surface usable). Through a process of Malcolm standing up, walking, and talking, he was able to get the ideas out in a relatively cogent form so that I could capture them with notes, get clarification, and begin to process them into something that could be communicated (ala slide deck).
We wandered into the Vanguard offices both days and took care of some business in town, in Nairobi. Faith was our guide as we walked out of the compound to the first bus stop. We hoped onto a Motato (people mover bus) and wandered into town.
Earlier that morning, I had a fairly funny BGO (blinding glimpse of the obvious). To cover my bald head, I brought a few hats. My favorite is a white jogging hat – lets the heat from my head out, while strolling in fashion (and it’s bendy). That morning I thought to myself, “I wonder if I should wear this, or if it would make me stand out because I would most likely be the only guy wearing a white hat”. The irony is that we were the only white guys on the bus, and maybe .05% of Nairobi was Caucasian. My BGO? “It’s not the hat”.
We meandered, wandered, strolled, and flowed with the bustling people. Nairobi is a busy city. It doesn’t have the urgency or chaos of New York or London, but rather reminds me of people wandering and occasionally stopping every once in a while. There were desperately poor people selling charcoal lumps on the side of the roads. There were government workers burning trash piles (no barrels, just piles) beside the bus stops. There are MPesa signs everywhere (a fairly novel technique where Kenyans send and store monetary value on their phones). And there were the normal routines of business – storefronts, malls, office buildings, schools, ministries, etc.
We also saw significant darkness and oppression. In particular there was one building I found disturbing in the middle of town – it was enormous and ominous. Turns out it was a seat of power for another religion. Members of that same religion were almost glaring at us as we walked the streets of Nairobi. My spiritual radar was on high alert and pinging often.
At the same time, there were obvious and significant signs or grace and redemption – including Faith’s school building where (for a normal office building, with the school administration offices on the 5th floor), the stairwells had planters with encouraging scriptures on it, as we wound counter clockwise up the flights. This was a public building – no ACLU to enforce religious sanitization, or removal of anything of faith where a human eyeball might experience it. This is Kenya – a place where Jesus is spoken of as Messiah and Redeemer. Indeed, as we were to find out – the people of Kenya have a faith that is perhaps their most valuable country resource, greater than their gold, their wilderness, or their fertile land.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
Africa 2010 - Bumpy Terror and Beef
February 8th, 2010
Our first two days had a singular purpose – rest and restore from the jetlag. We got off the plane and Utugi’s daughter Faith met us. All of our luggage arrived in good shape and we got through customs and baggage claim in short order. At first, I felt that the place was hot – but it was only the stuffiness of the terminal. Once we got outside, it was a balmy Seattle summertime evening –very comfortable for us. Faith drove us onto the highways where I began to feel “wow, I am certainly in a different land”. The highways, at night, are a bit unnerving. There are no lines on the road, and the cars and trucks stay to the left (ala English highways), but weave in and out of the gaps and make their own lanes. We eventually slowed to an inexplicable stopping point – no signs, no turn off, just a break in the concrete - at 60 mph.
We drove down a RIDICULOUSLY bumpy rode, which seemed about 10 miles (it’s actually maybe 2) crawling through ruts, bumps, ravines, chasms, lakes, gulfs, quarries to finally arrive at Utugi’s house. I learned later that they travel this multiple times a day. Brett, welcome to Africa my friend; Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.
The house is a lovely, well built house in a decent section of Nairobi. The family was waiting up for us to arrive so that we could have dinner together. We were a bit shot, but they welcomed us warmly with the cheerful cheek to cheek Kenyan greeting (which I have grown to love). We had a traditional Kenyan dinner of beef, beans, and cabbage. Then off to bed it was for us, complete with my first experience in a standard mosquito net bedroom. Ahhh, sleep at last…
Our first two days had a singular purpose – rest and restore from the jetlag. We got off the plane and Utugi’s daughter Faith met us. All of our luggage arrived in good shape and we got through customs and baggage claim in short order. At first, I felt that the place was hot – but it was only the stuffiness of the terminal. Once we got outside, it was a balmy Seattle summertime evening –very comfortable for us. Faith drove us onto the highways where I began to feel “wow, I am certainly in a different land”. The highways, at night, are a bit unnerving. There are no lines on the road, and the cars and trucks stay to the left (ala English highways), but weave in and out of the gaps and make their own lanes. We eventually slowed to an inexplicable stopping point – no signs, no turn off, just a break in the concrete - at 60 mph.
We drove down a RIDICULOUSLY bumpy rode, which seemed about 10 miles (it’s actually maybe 2) crawling through ruts, bumps, ravines, chasms, lakes, gulfs, quarries to finally arrive at Utugi’s house. I learned later that they travel this multiple times a day. Brett, welcome to Africa my friend; Toto, we’re not in Kansas anymore.
The house is a lovely, well built house in a decent section of Nairobi. The family was waiting up for us to arrive so that we could have dinner together. We were a bit shot, but they welcomed us warmly with the cheerful cheek to cheek Kenyan greeting (which I have grown to love). We had a traditional Kenyan dinner of beef, beans, and cabbage. Then off to bed it was for us, complete with my first experience in a standard mosquito net bedroom. Ahhh, sleep at last…
Africa 2010 - Oh Yeah - The Superbowl
February 7th, 2010
And where in the heck are we going to watch the Saints vs the Colts in Nairobi, Kenya? Will the lions and zebras share the telly with us? It looks like we simply are two Yanks destined to go without this year. Not to mention that our internal clocks are busted, or smooshed, or something. With a flight halfway around the world LITERALLY, a body has to figure out some method to make sense of it all. If I start to see flying nerf balls and purple kangaroos named Cracker, I will know that it is time to sleep.
And where in the heck are we going to watch the Saints vs the Colts in Nairobi, Kenya? Will the lions and zebras share the telly with us? It looks like we simply are two Yanks destined to go without this year. Not to mention that our internal clocks are busted, or smooshed, or something. With a flight halfway around the world LITERALLY, a body has to figure out some method to make sense of it all. If I start to see flying nerf balls and purple kangaroos named Cracker, I will know that it is time to sleep.
Africa 2010 - Across the Wasteland
February 7th, 2010
We have been in the plane for 4 hours now, from London to Nairobi. It is comfortable, lots of legroom, good food with the classic British Airways tending to details. A half-full cup of cranberry juice sits by my side as I type. Through a speckled window over my shoulder, I have been snapping photos of the journey south. My first glimpse of something other than clouds showed the French Alps, rising to and through the low, spotty cloud cover. I quickly grabbed my point and shoot and snapped a record. The in flight trip map showed Marseille and Montpellier. After a bit over the water, I saw land to the left, curling South. It was Cagliari and Carbonara, in the Mediterranean Sea. Then another look showed the African coast. We were in Africa! We flew almost directly over Tunis and Tripoli, then curled Southeast into the desert. The landscape continued to get dryer and brown. We flew through and above a hazy sand storm, definitely not clouds or mists – it was too fine and that light tan color of the desert. Another look later showed that we had entered the Saharan desert. Sand dunes, snaking North to South created valleys and swirling refuges, but the look and feel was incredibly foreign and inhospitable. It truly appears as if no life could even be sustained in the wastelands of the desert below. About this time we have dropped South of Cairo and the tombs of ancient Egyptian pharaohs. It is an ancient and barren land. There is not a green, blue, or white thing in site – it is sea upon sea of sand. And I fly at 37,000 feet in a hollow metal people-mover, sipping my cranberry juice. In Libya 37,000 feet below me are the people of the desert travelling to the only water for a hundred miles.
I have an enormous sense of awe right now, in the complexity and vastness of it all. How many caravans have traversed that wasteland? Does anyone on this hollow metal tube give much thought to the scraping survival down there? Is unchecked power of enslavement checked with righteous application of grace, dignity, and capable love?
We have been in the plane for 4 hours now, from London to Nairobi. It is comfortable, lots of legroom, good food with the classic British Airways tending to details. A half-full cup of cranberry juice sits by my side as I type. Through a speckled window over my shoulder, I have been snapping photos of the journey south. My first glimpse of something other than clouds showed the French Alps, rising to and through the low, spotty cloud cover. I quickly grabbed my point and shoot and snapped a record. The in flight trip map showed Marseille and Montpellier. After a bit over the water, I saw land to the left, curling South. It was Cagliari and Carbonara, in the Mediterranean Sea. Then another look showed the African coast. We were in Africa! We flew almost directly over Tunis and Tripoli, then curled Southeast into the desert. The landscape continued to get dryer and brown. We flew through and above a hazy sand storm, definitely not clouds or mists – it was too fine and that light tan color of the desert. Another look later showed that we had entered the Saharan desert. Sand dunes, snaking North to South created valleys and swirling refuges, but the look and feel was incredibly foreign and inhospitable. It truly appears as if no life could even be sustained in the wastelands of the desert below. About this time we have dropped South of Cairo and the tombs of ancient Egyptian pharaohs. It is an ancient and barren land. There is not a green, blue, or white thing in site – it is sea upon sea of sand. And I fly at 37,000 feet in a hollow metal people-mover, sipping my cranberry juice. In Libya 37,000 feet below me are the people of the desert travelling to the only water for a hundred miles.
I have an enormous sense of awe right now, in the complexity and vastness of it all. How many caravans have traversed that wasteland? Does anyone on this hollow metal tube give much thought to the scraping survival down there? Is unchecked power of enslavement checked with righteous application of grace, dignity, and capable love?
Africa 2010 - Matrix Moments at Heathrow
February 7th, 2010
There is certainly desires in my heart for this trip. I discern that there is a period of me simply releasing a vice-like grip on my future – especially with regard to driving our business. There is almost nothing I can do to add to this equation from Africa – Ignition Garage has been kept in competent hands with Mike and is indeed experiencing a level of growth that we both believe would not have happened had either of us not answered this call. Mike is acting as our mission control – in the sending, organization, and coordination of efforts stateside. Kathy has also in all matters practical. We go with a full compliment of coverage into a known and unknown land.
Malcolm and I walked through several terminals at Heathrow this morning (at a ridiculously early hour, 4 am I think), experiencing multiple Matrix-ey moments. We expected the trainkeeper to hop out of a train at any time, as we walked down deserted concrete tubes. It was a surreal experience. However in our walking and talking, we covered much ground. We do tend to go to the deeper places when given time, context, and free reign. Much of the conversation is “Why are we here?” “Why are YOU here?” “What is the LORD doing in this?”. They are thoughts worthy of the time we spend on them.
A few takeaways from that walk:
Why are YOU here? (Brett)
The Lord has called and I am in the answer. He is unveiling the ultimate why in His time.
However, a few answers are:
To cover Malcolm’s back during, before, and after the teaching. The Lord had shared this with me even prior to a discussion a month ago when we got together to discuss the trip. The important message here is that no man can do this alone, and if the prayerful listening is going to be done well, it will require Malcolm to know that his 6 is covered. We have experienced several instances already of interference – the spiritual kind where the radar is pinging and we are stopped in our tracks.
A calling to a new level of Leadership. The Lord is unfolding what this is as I walk. Here, in this place, there is ought else that I can choose save an intentional surrender to His directing. My best efforts in teaching spiritual & business teachings to beautiful people of Kenya are misguided at best. I am a man with skills and relationships that has value to transfer, but it must be in a proper placement, where I understand the right relationship in the veil between Heaven and Earth. This point is for me, though, is to understand more directly His voice and His intentions for me, my family, my business and the vision I might so carefully craft. He must be Lord of All, or He is Lord of nothing. Leading with authority is the easy part Рleading when the vision communiqu̩ has been received, and no sooner, is the harder.
To receive a proper understanding of Stewardship. A significant part of this trip is about the Biblical teaching of stewardship, where the power of the application of gifts and resources, transforms nations. The common (and wrong) rules dictate that Power Rules and Poverty is Forever and that To Receive it to Consume. Each of these is not of God, nor is it effective in transformation. The Lord is calling us to dwell in the uncomfortable causality of the world’s rules, to understand the enslavement it creates, and how to teach and own the laws of God that frees the shackles of men.
To find Joy. I prayed to the Lord that He would lead me to a place of peace, rest, and joy in my spirit again. I had become aware a few months ago that since October of 2008, I have held onto a desperate and clinched hand. I have walked with this clenching unknowingly, but my body and spirit has paid the inevitable toll. The New Testament advises us to “Be anxious about nothing, but in all things, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God”. And “This is why I tell you: do not be worried about the food and drink you need in order to stay alive, or about clothes for your body. After all, isn't life worth more than food? And isn't the body worth more than clothes? Look at the birds: they do not plant seeds, gather a harvest and put it in barns; yet your Father in heaven takes care of them! Aren't you worth much more than birds?”
Linna and the family are my amazing joy while this Husband/Dad/CEO works it all out. And I battle (like I am sure most husband/dads/workers) the balance where I need to keep the priority reserve energy bank high - that I don't spend all of my energy or devotion prior to getting home. Linna certainly is my recharger. And playing with my kids - ah, that feeds my spirit. Being away from them in this is like a fast from something amazing, I don't like it much, but the Father who ultimately has our destiny in His hands is able to use it in transformational ways.
Music: Sara Tevales (Portuguese). Sang me across the Sahara and into the Southern Hemisphere for the first time in my life.
There is certainly desires in my heart for this trip. I discern that there is a period of me simply releasing a vice-like grip on my future – especially with regard to driving our business. There is almost nothing I can do to add to this equation from Africa – Ignition Garage has been kept in competent hands with Mike and is indeed experiencing a level of growth that we both believe would not have happened had either of us not answered this call. Mike is acting as our mission control – in the sending, organization, and coordination of efforts stateside. Kathy has also in all matters practical. We go with a full compliment of coverage into a known and unknown land.
Malcolm and I walked through several terminals at Heathrow this morning (at a ridiculously early hour, 4 am I think), experiencing multiple Matrix-ey moments. We expected the trainkeeper to hop out of a train at any time, as we walked down deserted concrete tubes. It was a surreal experience. However in our walking and talking, we covered much ground. We do tend to go to the deeper places when given time, context, and free reign. Much of the conversation is “Why are we here?” “Why are YOU here?” “What is the LORD doing in this?”. They are thoughts worthy of the time we spend on them.
A few takeaways from that walk:
Why are YOU here? (Brett)
The Lord has called and I am in the answer. He is unveiling the ultimate why in His time.
However, a few answers are:
To cover Malcolm’s back during, before, and after the teaching. The Lord had shared this with me even prior to a discussion a month ago when we got together to discuss the trip. The important message here is that no man can do this alone, and if the prayerful listening is going to be done well, it will require Malcolm to know that his 6 is covered. We have experienced several instances already of interference – the spiritual kind where the radar is pinging and we are stopped in our tracks.
A calling to a new level of Leadership. The Lord is unfolding what this is as I walk. Here, in this place, there is ought else that I can choose save an intentional surrender to His directing. My best efforts in teaching spiritual & business teachings to beautiful people of Kenya are misguided at best. I am a man with skills and relationships that has value to transfer, but it must be in a proper placement, where I understand the right relationship in the veil between Heaven and Earth. This point is for me, though, is to understand more directly His voice and His intentions for me, my family, my business and the vision I might so carefully craft. He must be Lord of All, or He is Lord of nothing. Leading with authority is the easy part Рleading when the vision communiqu̩ has been received, and no sooner, is the harder.
To receive a proper understanding of Stewardship. A significant part of this trip is about the Biblical teaching of stewardship, where the power of the application of gifts and resources, transforms nations. The common (and wrong) rules dictate that Power Rules and Poverty is Forever and that To Receive it to Consume. Each of these is not of God, nor is it effective in transformation. The Lord is calling us to dwell in the uncomfortable causality of the world’s rules, to understand the enslavement it creates, and how to teach and own the laws of God that frees the shackles of men.
To find Joy. I prayed to the Lord that He would lead me to a place of peace, rest, and joy in my spirit again. I had become aware a few months ago that since October of 2008, I have held onto a desperate and clinched hand. I have walked with this clenching unknowingly, but my body and spirit has paid the inevitable toll. The New Testament advises us to “Be anxious about nothing, but in all things, by prayer and petition, present your requests to God”. And “This is why I tell you: do not be worried about the food and drink you need in order to stay alive, or about clothes for your body. After all, isn't life worth more than food? And isn't the body worth more than clothes? Look at the birds: they do not plant seeds, gather a harvest and put it in barns; yet your Father in heaven takes care of them! Aren't you worth much more than birds?”
Linna and the family are my amazing joy while this Husband/Dad/CEO works it all out. And I battle (like I am sure most husband/dads/workers) the balance where I need to keep the priority reserve energy bank high - that I don't spend all of my energy or devotion prior to getting home. Linna certainly is my recharger. And playing with my kids - ah, that feeds my spirit. Being away from them in this is like a fast from something amazing, I don't like it much, but the Father who ultimately has our destiny in His hands is able to use it in transformational ways.
Music: Sara Tevales (Portuguese). Sang me across the Sahara and into the Southern Hemisphere for the first time in my life.
Africa 2010 - Kayra Sillo
February 7th, 2010
Kayra Sillo is an achingly beautiful song from an album by the Kenyan Boys Choir that I am listening to while on the plane from London. I don’t know what the singers are saying, nor do I know even what they look like. The tune speaks to me nevertheless. The harmonies are controlled, weaving, and poignant. I have been blessed by this album as we travel to Kenya – to a people I have never met on a continent I have never seen.
After a brief lookup, I learned what I was blessed by: Kayra Sillo means "Way of Peace". After a tumultuous and difficult few years, a way of peace would be more than welcome. My suspicion is that this way of peace will not be through the absence of conflict, but probably through the presence of Spirit brought on by the Living God.
Kayra Sillo is an achingly beautiful song from an album by the Kenyan Boys Choir that I am listening to while on the plane from London. I don’t know what the singers are saying, nor do I know even what they look like. The tune speaks to me nevertheless. The harmonies are controlled, weaving, and poignant. I have been blessed by this album as we travel to Kenya – to a people I have never met on a continent I have never seen.
After a brief lookup, I learned what I was blessed by: Kayra Sillo means "Way of Peace". After a tumultuous and difficult few years, a way of peace would be more than welcome. My suspicion is that this way of peace will not be through the absence of conflict, but probably through the presence of Spirit brought on by the Living God.
Africa 2010 - A Shining and Beautiful Thing
February 6th, 2010
“The heart has its reasons, but reason knows nothing of the heart.” B. Pascal
Almost everything in my life pales in comparison to the depth of love, devotion, and soul bond that I have with my bride, Linna. As we parted for this trip, each of our hearts ached to point of breaking. If it were not because the Lord asked me to go, I would not have considered the length of time away from my dearest one. It was an ache beyond description and while we both knew that a simple span of days was before now and my return, it did not diminish the pain of goodbye. But we also knew that the Lord was up to something; the Lion was afoot and He was working something mysterious and beautiful.
The word, Beautiful, is one that begins to scratch the surface of what defines our marriage. This incomparable woman that has graced my side for almost fifteen years has captivated me mind, soul, and spirit. Her depth of love and devotion to Jesus is inspiring beyond words. She submits, she roars, she trembles, she laughs, she chases, she finds – my life would be a wandering dispatch without her.
Lord, thank you for loving Linna so greatly then and now. Take care of my baby, she was yours far before she was ever mine. And I never, ever want to take your place. But rather Lord, from that first bread and cup we took together with you, watch over and keep her joyful, confident, and strong while I am away. She is no better hands. No better hands exist.
“The heart has its reasons, but reason knows nothing of the heart.” B. Pascal
Almost everything in my life pales in comparison to the depth of love, devotion, and soul bond that I have with my bride, Linna. As we parted for this trip, each of our hearts ached to point of breaking. If it were not because the Lord asked me to go, I would not have considered the length of time away from my dearest one. It was an ache beyond description and while we both knew that a simple span of days was before now and my return, it did not diminish the pain of goodbye. But we also knew that the Lord was up to something; the Lion was afoot and He was working something mysterious and beautiful.
The word, Beautiful, is one that begins to scratch the surface of what defines our marriage. This incomparable woman that has graced my side for almost fifteen years has captivated me mind, soul, and spirit. Her depth of love and devotion to Jesus is inspiring beyond words. She submits, she roars, she trembles, she laughs, she chases, she finds – my life would be a wandering dispatch without her.
Lord, thank you for loving Linna so greatly then and now. Take care of my baby, she was yours far before she was ever mine. And I never, ever want to take your place. But rather Lord, from that first bread and cup we took together with you, watch over and keep her joyful, confident, and strong while I am away. She is no better hands. No better hands exist.
Africa 2010 - The Sendoff
(The Africa 2010 series is about my mission trip to Kenya for 3+ weeks. They are captured on a laptop, then uploaded when internet access is available. And by Internet access, in Africa it is the kind of "access" that Benjamin Franklin had to electricity...)
February 5th, 2010
We gathered at the Mead home for a time of prayer and anointing. Mike led the group in a great prayer and commissioned us off. We also had a time beforehand of sharing about the trip, discussion about the mission, our roles and the beautiful people we will be spending time with. Lots of laughter, a few tears, and a sense of sendoff. Africa, here we come.
February 5th, 2010
We gathered at the Mead home for a time of prayer and anointing. Mike led the group in a great prayer and commissioned us off. We also had a time beforehand of sharing about the trip, discussion about the mission, our roles and the beautiful people we will be spending time with. Lots of laughter, a few tears, and a sense of sendoff. Africa, here we come.
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