Originally uploaded by tynemann
Why we do this...
12.03.2007
11.07.2007
Constance
Judging from her height and her stance she looks no more than ten, yet experience tells me she’s at least thirteen. She sits across from me in the car as she guides us to her house down the dirt road. She motions to the right with her hand, but says left, I look at her puzzled, remind her quickly of the English words and she looks embarrassed and says left again with the motion and the word. We pull up to a small cement structure no bigger than my bedroom at home. Behind it stands a crude makeshift metal structure even smaller than the cinder block room in front. “Here” she says and opens the door to let herself out.
Stompy is what the coordinator called her. I wasn’t sure exactly why at first, but when I learn the meaning in Afrikaans I realize that it’s in reference to her height. She told us she didn’t like being called Stompy. She liked Constance better. I call her whatever she wants and give her as much dignity and respect I can. She’s a small girl, living in a small house on the outskirts of a big city in South Africa. Her story is going to become even more colorful.
As I walk towards the house another child comes to greet us, this girl is seven or eight, beautiful smile and inquisitive eyes. This is Constance’s “sister”. A quick glance into the home reveals a small table and two chairs. A bed is hidden behind the door. No water in the house, except they tell me, when the rains come and the water floods the area; the bigger problem then are the snakes that get into the “house”. Much of the immediate family aren’t here, at least not anymore.
Two adults appear from the homes, one is Constance’s mother, yet neither one look old enough. One is a bit younger than I am and the other I guess is a young twenty something. They are the caretakers for the children. Neither of them work, the only jobs available involve an unthinkable lifestyle. Constance lives here in this small home with nine other family members.
An aunt, a father and her grandmother have all died recently. I didn’t ask what the cause of death was, but I could have taken a guess with 98% accuracy. Even if I did ask the answer would be pneumonia or TB, not the real causes. The family has no male influence helping provide any necessities. The food they eat comes from relief organizations providing handouts for two of the children, the family stretches it to provide for all, but that is all they are given.
If I were to tell you AIDS killed the family members, somehow our minds immediately wander to think of the immoral lifestyle they lived and how they probably contracted the disease. Our minds try to understand or comprehend how their sin caused this type of situation and thus resulted in their deaths. If I was to tell you AIDS caused the death of the family members would it shock you? Or do we simply justify it thinking that their sin has consequences? Unfortunately actions do have consequences, sometimes on those most innocent.
I ask Constance the names of the people living in the home. She has difficulty remembering and listing them. She gets to about eight and then has to start over. She has a brother and sister, I think. It’s hard to tell who really are brothers, sisters or cousins. Most all of the kids attend school, but studying is a problem when there’s not enough food to keep their minds from wandering and school uniforms cost money. December is coming, most people will be on holiday, the food may not be delivered during the next month or so due to a lack of drivers. Think about that as you sit down for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner.
If I told you AIDS has nearly destroyed this family leaving eight children orphaned would it really matter? Who cares how it happened, what difference does it make? It’s a situation that continues to happen. Our responsibility isn’t to judge or point fingers. Our responsibility is to care for those who need help. Our responsibility is to cry out to God for His Justice and the saving knowledge of Him to be revealed. Our responsibility is not to try and understand or figure out what happened. Our responsibility is to share Christ with a hurting and victimized world.
As we return in the car to the feeding center for the orphan children, Constance, her younger sister and a neighbor boy take advantage of the free transport down the road. When we reach our destination I open the door, get out and turn around to sweep up the younger sister in my arms to help her out. Her weight and frame tell me quickly she most likely will not escape the disease that has claimed much of her family. I set her down but she doesn’t go far from my side. I see Constance heading towards the other children that have gathered for their meal of the day. Rice.
Whatever our understanding or stereotypes about AIDS and the pandemic that is absolutely destroying nations; there are millions of innocent victims who will someday be nothing more than a statistic in a book. Was it Constance’s fault she finds herself in a daily struggle to survive? Is Constance to blame for the immense pressure she may someday carry trying to provide for her younger siblings? Is it her fault that someday shortly her mother’s life may be taken as well? Is Constance to blame that she too carries the same death sentence?
thanks for reading...
Stompy is what the coordinator called her. I wasn’t sure exactly why at first, but when I learn the meaning in Afrikaans I realize that it’s in reference to her height. She told us she didn’t like being called Stompy. She liked Constance better. I call her whatever she wants and give her as much dignity and respect I can. She’s a small girl, living in a small house on the outskirts of a big city in South Africa. Her story is going to become even more colorful.
As I walk towards the house another child comes to greet us, this girl is seven or eight, beautiful smile and inquisitive eyes. This is Constance’s “sister”. A quick glance into the home reveals a small table and two chairs. A bed is hidden behind the door. No water in the house, except they tell me, when the rains come and the water floods the area; the bigger problem then are the snakes that get into the “house”. Much of the immediate family aren’t here, at least not anymore.
Two adults appear from the homes, one is Constance’s mother, yet neither one look old enough. One is a bit younger than I am and the other I guess is a young twenty something. They are the caretakers for the children. Neither of them work, the only jobs available involve an unthinkable lifestyle. Constance lives here in this small home with nine other family members.
An aunt, a father and her grandmother have all died recently. I didn’t ask what the cause of death was, but I could have taken a guess with 98% accuracy. Even if I did ask the answer would be pneumonia or TB, not the real causes. The family has no male influence helping provide any necessities. The food they eat comes from relief organizations providing handouts for two of the children, the family stretches it to provide for all, but that is all they are given.
If I were to tell you AIDS killed the family members, somehow our minds immediately wander to think of the immoral lifestyle they lived and how they probably contracted the disease. Our minds try to understand or comprehend how their sin caused this type of situation and thus resulted in their deaths. If I was to tell you AIDS caused the death of the family members would it shock you? Or do we simply justify it thinking that their sin has consequences? Unfortunately actions do have consequences, sometimes on those most innocent.
I ask Constance the names of the people living in the home. She has difficulty remembering and listing them. She gets to about eight and then has to start over. She has a brother and sister, I think. It’s hard to tell who really are brothers, sisters or cousins. Most all of the kids attend school, but studying is a problem when there’s not enough food to keep their minds from wandering and school uniforms cost money. December is coming, most people will be on holiday, the food may not be delivered during the next month or so due to a lack of drivers. Think about that as you sit down for Thanksgiving or Christmas dinner.
If I told you AIDS has nearly destroyed this family leaving eight children orphaned would it really matter? Who cares how it happened, what difference does it make? It’s a situation that continues to happen. Our responsibility isn’t to judge or point fingers. Our responsibility is to care for those who need help. Our responsibility is to cry out to God for His Justice and the saving knowledge of Him to be revealed. Our responsibility is not to try and understand or figure out what happened. Our responsibility is to share Christ with a hurting and victimized world.
As we return in the car to the feeding center for the orphan children, Constance, her younger sister and a neighbor boy take advantage of the free transport down the road. When we reach our destination I open the door, get out and turn around to sweep up the younger sister in my arms to help her out. Her weight and frame tell me quickly she most likely will not escape the disease that has claimed much of her family. I set her down but she doesn’t go far from my side. I see Constance heading towards the other children that have gathered for their meal of the day. Rice.
Whatever our understanding or stereotypes about AIDS and the pandemic that is absolutely destroying nations; there are millions of innocent victims who will someday be nothing more than a statistic in a book. Was it Constance’s fault she finds herself in a daily struggle to survive? Is Constance to blame for the immense pressure she may someday carry trying to provide for her younger siblings? Is it her fault that someday shortly her mother’s life may be taken as well? Is Constance to blame that she too carries the same death sentence?
thanks for reading...
9.28.2007
This one is for Chase and the rest of the class...
It’s an interesting thing traveling to new countries. There’s always some kind of cultural misunderstandings or rules that you will inevitably realize a little too late. Many of these situations happen and then become the fireside stories that missionaries sit around and tell each other in candid moments. Sorry if you guys didn’t understand all that. Let me put it another way.
Not all people in the world live as we do in America. There are a lot of people who have different rules for their communities and culture and families and stuff. For example, in the United States most kids have their own room. If you have your own room raise your hand. O.k. now put them down. If you share with a brother or sister raise your hand. O.k. you can put them down. See in many places around the world a lot of people share a room with a brother, sister, cousin, mom or dad. Sometimes they may even share with two brothers or two sisters or more. Here’s another example. If you have more than three pairs of shoes raise your hand. O.k. put them down. Did you know that in many places around the world lots of children will never have a pair of shoes. They will walk to school and home and to the shops barefoot. So everyone take off your shoes and let your teacher smell them. Then walk around barefoot the rest of the day. (But only if your teacher says it’s o.k.)
Some countries have McDonalds and KFC and different restaurants that are similar to the U.S. but in some places the food isn’t the same. Actually the food may be the same, like chicken, beef, zebras, corn flakes and toast. It’s just that sometimes we eat different PARTS of the animals. Here’s an example. I was recently visiting a country in Asia. The country is called Malaysia. Can you find that on a map? It’s near Indonesia and Thailand. I went with a friend of mine to go have breakfast and guess what we had? Chicken feet. I was very surprised to have a bowl of tasty looking chicken feet sitting in front of me. My friends all ate them, so I picked one up with my chopsticks and ate one too. It was pretty good actually. Maybe someday you can ask your mom or dad for chicken feet for dinner?
Do you guys think it’s ok to have a competition between the boys and the girls? I think we should see who’s smarter. Who do you think is smarter? Girls or the boys? I’ll think of two questions, one for the boys and one for the girls. Then we’ll see who’s smarter.
Girls:
#1- How many countries are currently in the European Union? (Without using the Internet to find out)
Boys:
#1- What is the name of your school?
So who got the question right? Boys? Girls? Tell your teacher to email me and let me know who’s smarter, boys or the girls.
Ok. Everyone have a good day and I’ll try and take a picture of a giraffe for you.
Thanks for reading…
Not all people in the world live as we do in America. There are a lot of people who have different rules for their communities and culture and families and stuff. For example, in the United States most kids have their own room. If you have your own room raise your hand. O.k. now put them down. If you share with a brother or sister raise your hand. O.k. you can put them down. See in many places around the world a lot of people share a room with a brother, sister, cousin, mom or dad. Sometimes they may even share with two brothers or two sisters or more. Here’s another example. If you have more than three pairs of shoes raise your hand. O.k. put them down. Did you know that in many places around the world lots of children will never have a pair of shoes. They will walk to school and home and to the shops barefoot. So everyone take off your shoes and let your teacher smell them. Then walk around barefoot the rest of the day. (But only if your teacher says it’s o.k.)
Some countries have McDonalds and KFC and different restaurants that are similar to the U.S. but in some places the food isn’t the same. Actually the food may be the same, like chicken, beef, zebras, corn flakes and toast. It’s just that sometimes we eat different PARTS of the animals. Here’s an example. I was recently visiting a country in Asia. The country is called Malaysia. Can you find that on a map? It’s near Indonesia and Thailand. I went with a friend of mine to go have breakfast and guess what we had? Chicken feet. I was very surprised to have a bowl of tasty looking chicken feet sitting in front of me. My friends all ate them, so I picked one up with my chopsticks and ate one too. It was pretty good actually. Maybe someday you can ask your mom or dad for chicken feet for dinner?
Do you guys think it’s ok to have a competition between the boys and the girls? I think we should see who’s smarter. Who do you think is smarter? Girls or the boys? I’ll think of two questions, one for the boys and one for the girls. Then we’ll see who’s smarter.
Girls:
#1- How many countries are currently in the European Union? (Without using the Internet to find out)
Boys:
#1- What is the name of your school?
So who got the question right? Boys? Girls? Tell your teacher to email me and let me know who’s smarter, boys or the girls.
Ok. Everyone have a good day and I’ll try and take a picture of a giraffe for you.
Thanks for reading…
9.26.2007
Fish Stars
I sat at a table last night with a young child who’s imagination grew restless after about the first 5 seconds of the adults talking. Soon the chair became a jungle gym and his food was being covertly flung across the table. A lack of discipline wasn’t this boy’s problem; his father removed him from the table three times as we tried to “overtalk” the sound of crying from the other room. Just the lack of adequate sensory input was more our fault than it was his. Soon the imagination wandered and Fish Stars somehow found themselves in the story.
Sitting out at the edge of a savanna under the moon and star lit sky the boy’s stories grew bigger and bigger as the night wore on. I seem to recall something about a lion or a leopard in one of the exaggerated tales. At one point I think I made out the part in the story where I was some kind of astronaut sailing into the sky eating fish stars. I think I rescued everyone sitting at the table by going all the way up there to swallow them to keep them from falling and hurting people. I mean think about it, who wants to get hit by one of those? It felt kind of nice to be a hero for once.
Most of the times with the Nomad (intern) teams I’m kind of a familiar face that they all try to figure out. Laughing at times, joking at times, yet pushing them to give a hundred percent of themselves to the kids in the presentations at the schools. I train them and try to teach them to rely on and trust each other. I may ask more of them, I may make them work a little hard, I may break their will to live, but I do my best to prepare them for something. See I may not be a hero, but soon they’ll be one.
Soon they’ll stand in front of thousands of children and young people and relay God’s message of Truth and Purpose for their lives. They will be the ones rescuing and protecting those who’ve been hurt and had their lives broken. These are the ones who will be a child’s answer to whether anyone cares for them or not. The child searching for hope, the child feeling the burden of raising their younger brothers and sisters, the child who on that day they enter their school, has decided to give up on life. I’ve trained another semester of heroes.
How long has it been since you’ve been a hero? How long since a child could point at you or remember the day a simple word you said rescued them? I don’t think we realize what kind of impact the smallest word or a smile, an encouraging email or a phone call can make. How much time does it take to be a hero to someone searching for hope?
Pray for those heroes that are out there right now. Two teams near the border of Swaziland, sharing a smile with those searching for a hero. Pray for safety and unity in their teams Pray for me as I work in Malawi to level the roads for teams coming here. Pray for safety and God’s direction in my life. Pray for us as we point children to a true hero, and point to Him yourself. You don’t have to eat fish stars just to be a hero.
….become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of Life…
Phil. 2:15
Thanks for reading...
Sitting out at the edge of a savanna under the moon and star lit sky the boy’s stories grew bigger and bigger as the night wore on. I seem to recall something about a lion or a leopard in one of the exaggerated tales. At one point I think I made out the part in the story where I was some kind of astronaut sailing into the sky eating fish stars. I think I rescued everyone sitting at the table by going all the way up there to swallow them to keep them from falling and hurting people. I mean think about it, who wants to get hit by one of those? It felt kind of nice to be a hero for once.
Most of the times with the Nomad (intern) teams I’m kind of a familiar face that they all try to figure out. Laughing at times, joking at times, yet pushing them to give a hundred percent of themselves to the kids in the presentations at the schools. I train them and try to teach them to rely on and trust each other. I may ask more of them, I may make them work a little hard, I may break their will to live, but I do my best to prepare them for something. See I may not be a hero, but soon they’ll be one.
Soon they’ll stand in front of thousands of children and young people and relay God’s message of Truth and Purpose for their lives. They will be the ones rescuing and protecting those who’ve been hurt and had their lives broken. These are the ones who will be a child’s answer to whether anyone cares for them or not. The child searching for hope, the child feeling the burden of raising their younger brothers and sisters, the child who on that day they enter their school, has decided to give up on life. I’ve trained another semester of heroes.
How long has it been since you’ve been a hero? How long since a child could point at you or remember the day a simple word you said rescued them? I don’t think we realize what kind of impact the smallest word or a smile, an encouraging email or a phone call can make. How much time does it take to be a hero to someone searching for hope?
Pray for those heroes that are out there right now. Two teams near the border of Swaziland, sharing a smile with those searching for a hero. Pray for safety and unity in their teams Pray for me as I work in Malawi to level the roads for teams coming here. Pray for safety and God’s direction in my life. Pray for us as we point children to a true hero, and point to Him yourself. You don’t have to eat fish stars just to be a hero.
….become blameless and pure, children of God without fault in a crooked and depraved generation, in which you shine like stars in the universe as you hold out the word of Life…
Phil. 2:15
Thanks for reading...
9.01.2007
The Gristle
I had to spell check that word to make sure it was right. But I came up with a different meaning than what I had intended. Unfortunately this isn't going to be a hugely spiritually significant post on a life lesson learned. It's 130 in the morning and I leave in about 5 hours for South Africa so thoughts and ideas are slightly scattered. I kind of just finished packing...
Usually before I travel I cut my hair pretty short, so right now the gristle refers to the feeling of the short freshly cut hair, maybe it should be the bristle... Perhaps due to lack of adequate sleep my mind has settled on a word that shouldn't be used.
Being in Southern Africa always hits you with so many emotions. The helplessness, the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy, the anger and frustration at how so many children's innocence is stolen. It's hard to describe driving through places where you know the children's life expectancy is only about 30 years. It's frustrating trying to answer secondary student's questions about HIV/ AIDS. A disease that is honestly and literally going to cause some of their countries to be extinct if behavior doesn't change.
And somehow I'm supposed to prepare 14 young people to be ready to face these situations for the next three months.
In Africa AIDS is destroying the nations, in America materialism is corrupting our thinking and our priorities.
The gristle is that it's so easy for us to not even take five minutes to pray for God's Justice and His hand to rescue those in need.
I'm going to post this now, and someday soon I'll probably go back and read it and edit it... trying to make sense of what I was thinking... or not thinking... the gristle.
Thanks for reading
Usually before I travel I cut my hair pretty short, so right now the gristle refers to the feeling of the short freshly cut hair, maybe it should be the bristle... Perhaps due to lack of adequate sleep my mind has settled on a word that shouldn't be used.
Being in Southern Africa always hits you with so many emotions. The helplessness, the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy, the anger and frustration at how so many children's innocence is stolen. It's hard to describe driving through places where you know the children's life expectancy is only about 30 years. It's frustrating trying to answer secondary student's questions about HIV/ AIDS. A disease that is honestly and literally going to cause some of their countries to be extinct if behavior doesn't change.
And somehow I'm supposed to prepare 14 young people to be ready to face these situations for the next three months.
In Africa AIDS is destroying the nations, in America materialism is corrupting our thinking and our priorities.
The gristle is that it's so easy for us to not even take five minutes to pray for God's Justice and His hand to rescue those in need.
I'm going to post this now, and someday soon I'll probably go back and read it and edit it... trying to make sense of what I was thinking... or not thinking... the gristle.
Thanks for reading
8.01.2007
Let darkness pass by
I went to a mall today. Filled with moms and dads and kids and teenagers. Tables of sales and shoes and phones and clothing; two food courts and multiple levels of consumerism. Plenty to be bought and browsed and looked at and desired. Strollers and people holding hands, shopping bags filled with the latest accessories and must haves. I went to a mall today where I found myself one of only five other pale faces that I counted as darkness passed by.
This mall is in a Muslim dominated country. The women here wear a head covering as part of their work uniform. Fitted neatly to their head and color coordinated to the uniform they wear, it’s an overwhelming sight. Yet my eyes are drawn to another crowd as I walk the lanes of the busy mall. You see there are many other visitors here like me; they are people who don’t belong in this country as well. And they come from places I’ll probably never be able to reach them at.
Every year thousands of college students leave their families to study abroad. Every year they come to places not their own. They come seeking a better life, a better education and Truth. The problem is that they will be indoctrinated into a knowledge system based on a theory that claims we’re here by random chance giving our lives no meaning and no purpose. Yet there is another belief system claiming life does have meaning and they have a Father who cares about them. The problem being they have no one to tell them.
As I walked the lanes of the mall ladies young and old are hidden behind a veil of darkness. Coming from Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Iraq, Iran, U.A.E., and other places where Islam has blinded them from the Truth about the meaning of their lives. And I feel helpless, as I can’t do anything about it. I stand absolutely stunned as I realize they stand right before me living in places that I will never be able to get to. Yet they come here looking for happiness in a shopping bag.
There are some interesting facts about college students in the U.S. Many of them come from places around the world. In fact according to some estimates:
“The 2006 Open Doors report was released this week, showing that the overall number of international students in the US has held steady from last year, at about 565,000…”
Do we see the numbers there? It seems that when we “can’t” get to some countries because of religious or political reasons, God brings the people to us. He brings them right to our door, or next-door if you live near a University; and then He gives us an opportunity to reveal Christ to a people group that may have been closed off to the Gospel. Think about it, there are students living, eating, shopping and going to school right next to you that have no family, friends or community around them they are familiar with. When we don’t go to them, God brings them to us.
I wanted to walk through the mall today handing out Books of Hope to all the visitors. Laws made by men prevent me from being able to do that. My heart aches knowing I can never share with them the Truth they are seeking. I want to go back to the mall and just sit and start conversations with people and let God lead. I want to go back and hear where people are from and what they’re doing here and see God work. I want them to be able to go back home with stories of an encounter with their creator and not new clothes to show off.
The article I referenced earlier went on to say this:
US States with the Most International Students
California 75,385
New York 64,283
Texas 46,869
Massachusetts 28,007
Florida 26,058
Leading Countries of Origin
India 76,503
China 62,582
Korea 58,847
Japan 38,712
Canada 28,202
Again, interesting to note that the two most populous countries in the world, the two with some of the most influential markets and economies of the world are sending young people to us. Interesting to think about how many times during those four years they’ll get to sit down with an average American family and be listened to and fed and told the Truth about a God who crafted them with a purpose and plan for their lives.
We don’t have to go far to find people who need to know about Christ. In fact we can be people who not only support missionaries by praying and financially giving, we can also be people who change the course of lives and send them back as missionaries to the villages, towns, communities and families they left in their countries. Places we may never go.
I want to reach into the dark places of the world to change people’s lives. Sometimes all that means is stepping into the lives of one of their young people. Find out who they are. Invited them to dinner one night a month. Listen to their hearts. Send them back as missionaries. Let the darkness pass by and return with the light. Here’s how you start:
“Hello. Where are you from?”
Thanks for reading...
Referenced from: http://www.internationalfinancialaidblog.com/2006/11/number-of-international-students-in-us.html
This mall is in a Muslim dominated country. The women here wear a head covering as part of their work uniform. Fitted neatly to their head and color coordinated to the uniform they wear, it’s an overwhelming sight. Yet my eyes are drawn to another crowd as I walk the lanes of the busy mall. You see there are many other visitors here like me; they are people who don’t belong in this country as well. And they come from places I’ll probably never be able to reach them at.
Every year thousands of college students leave their families to study abroad. Every year they come to places not their own. They come seeking a better life, a better education and Truth. The problem is that they will be indoctrinated into a knowledge system based on a theory that claims we’re here by random chance giving our lives no meaning and no purpose. Yet there is another belief system claiming life does have meaning and they have a Father who cares about them. The problem being they have no one to tell them.
As I walked the lanes of the mall ladies young and old are hidden behind a veil of darkness. Coming from Saudi Arabia, Pakistan, Iraq, Iran, U.A.E., and other places where Islam has blinded them from the Truth about the meaning of their lives. And I feel helpless, as I can’t do anything about it. I stand absolutely stunned as I realize they stand right before me living in places that I will never be able to get to. Yet they come here looking for happiness in a shopping bag.
There are some interesting facts about college students in the U.S. Many of them come from places around the world. In fact according to some estimates:
“The 2006 Open Doors report was released this week, showing that the overall number of international students in the US has held steady from last year, at about 565,000…”
Do we see the numbers there? It seems that when we “can’t” get to some countries because of religious or political reasons, God brings the people to us. He brings them right to our door, or next-door if you live near a University; and then He gives us an opportunity to reveal Christ to a people group that may have been closed off to the Gospel. Think about it, there are students living, eating, shopping and going to school right next to you that have no family, friends or community around them they are familiar with. When we don’t go to them, God brings them to us.
I wanted to walk through the mall today handing out Books of Hope to all the visitors. Laws made by men prevent me from being able to do that. My heart aches knowing I can never share with them the Truth they are seeking. I want to go back to the mall and just sit and start conversations with people and let God lead. I want to go back and hear where people are from and what they’re doing here and see God work. I want them to be able to go back home with stories of an encounter with their creator and not new clothes to show off.
The article I referenced earlier went on to say this:
US States with the Most International Students
California 75,385
New York 64,283
Texas 46,869
Massachusetts 28,007
Florida 26,058
Leading Countries of Origin
India 76,503
China 62,582
Korea 58,847
Japan 38,712
Canada 28,202
Again, interesting to note that the two most populous countries in the world, the two with some of the most influential markets and economies of the world are sending young people to us. Interesting to think about how many times during those four years they’ll get to sit down with an average American family and be listened to and fed and told the Truth about a God who crafted them with a purpose and plan for their lives.
We don’t have to go far to find people who need to know about Christ. In fact we can be people who not only support missionaries by praying and financially giving, we can also be people who change the course of lives and send them back as missionaries to the villages, towns, communities and families they left in their countries. Places we may never go.
I want to reach into the dark places of the world to change people’s lives. Sometimes all that means is stepping into the lives of one of their young people. Find out who they are. Invited them to dinner one night a month. Listen to their hearts. Send them back as missionaries. Let the darkness pass by and return with the light. Here’s how you start:
“Hello. Where are you from?”
Thanks for reading...
Referenced from: http://www.internationalfinancialaidblog.com/2006/11/number-of-international-students-in-us.html
6.12.2007
The Addiction
I cross a border today. One I crossed once before a few months ago. There is a misguided allure and an intrigue about living this kind of life. Filling up a passport with stamps from new countries is always a rush. The feeling of hearing about the next country you’ll be visiting or the layovers in far off places is always a kind of high, especially if you’ve never been there before. There is something unmistakable about returning home only to receive you’re next shipping out date. This addiction is a hard one to break.
Two weeks ago today, I stood in front of 140 Secondary students in Northern Ireland and spoke truth into their lives. The room was absolutely silent as I explained that they must take into account that their lives and choices matter. Their eyes fixated as I told them it is no mistake they are here, that they were created with purpose and intention. As the presentation ended we opened the time for questions and answers. In reality, the presentation was over and we were ready to pack up, the teacher however, didn’t want to let the students out into the hallways. The students somewhat hesitant at first, soon began voicing their wonderings. A hand in the back shot up. He was one of the older students, shaved head, his uniform in order. I thought he’d ask a simple question about what we thought of Northern Ireland. Instead “What’s your story?” He asked.
During the last six years there are certain moments that feed the addiction to what I do. There are presentations or testimonies or encounters that fuel the need to continue. A chance meeting on a bus with a young man looking for God. A teacher approaches you after a presentation and through her tears she hugs you and thanks you for sharing your story and promises to use the Book of Hope to teach her students. Laughter from a room full of primary school students wanting to be loved, laughter in an all boys secondary school, the students wanting to be believed in. Moments that will freeze in your mind and in your memories and continue to create the desire to commit another six years. The addiction.
I shared my story that afternoon in Northern Ireland. The room sat still as I explained life circumstances, a single-parent home, choosing to wait until I’m married, growing up in church and having to make my own choice about my parents religion. When I finished, something happened that I’ve rarely seen. The students clapped. Not because someone on our team started it and the students joined in. Not because of an awkward silence and certainly not because of my incredible abilities. Simply because God was there. That is the addiction.
I left the school that day on a different level. God had fueled a passion and a desire that is unlike any other feeling in the entire world. Given that I haven’t tried everything else I still wouldn’t trade the absolute rush of knowing this is it. This is worth all the missed flights, asking people for money, lost luggage, haggling with taxi drivers, no home, no car, living from a suitcase. There is nothing glamorous about this. But I’d do it all again for those moments when God is there. He is the addiction.
Here at a small farm in South Africa I’ll leave today to lead five young people into a nation I’ve never been to before. I’ll do my best to lead and protect and disciple them during this next month of their lives. We’ve spent the last six days living and eating and practicing dramas together. We’ll depend upon each other and lean on each other and trust each other. We’ll feed the addiction together as we see God move in ways we could never dream or imagine. We drive today into Botswana from South Africa. Tomorrow we continue with a ten hour drive into Namibia where we’ll spend the time in schools presenting children with the Truth about who they are.
God is the addiction. And it’s worth it.
Two weeks ago today, I stood in front of 140 Secondary students in Northern Ireland and spoke truth into their lives. The room was absolutely silent as I explained that they must take into account that their lives and choices matter. Their eyes fixated as I told them it is no mistake they are here, that they were created with purpose and intention. As the presentation ended we opened the time for questions and answers. In reality, the presentation was over and we were ready to pack up, the teacher however, didn’t want to let the students out into the hallways. The students somewhat hesitant at first, soon began voicing their wonderings. A hand in the back shot up. He was one of the older students, shaved head, his uniform in order. I thought he’d ask a simple question about what we thought of Northern Ireland. Instead “What’s your story?” He asked.
During the last six years there are certain moments that feed the addiction to what I do. There are presentations or testimonies or encounters that fuel the need to continue. A chance meeting on a bus with a young man looking for God. A teacher approaches you after a presentation and through her tears she hugs you and thanks you for sharing your story and promises to use the Book of Hope to teach her students. Laughter from a room full of primary school students wanting to be loved, laughter in an all boys secondary school, the students wanting to be believed in. Moments that will freeze in your mind and in your memories and continue to create the desire to commit another six years. The addiction.
I shared my story that afternoon in Northern Ireland. The room sat still as I explained life circumstances, a single-parent home, choosing to wait until I’m married, growing up in church and having to make my own choice about my parents religion. When I finished, something happened that I’ve rarely seen. The students clapped. Not because someone on our team started it and the students joined in. Not because of an awkward silence and certainly not because of my incredible abilities. Simply because God was there. That is the addiction.
I left the school that day on a different level. God had fueled a passion and a desire that is unlike any other feeling in the entire world. Given that I haven’t tried everything else I still wouldn’t trade the absolute rush of knowing this is it. This is worth all the missed flights, asking people for money, lost luggage, haggling with taxi drivers, no home, no car, living from a suitcase. There is nothing glamorous about this. But I’d do it all again for those moments when God is there. He is the addiction.
Here at a small farm in South Africa I’ll leave today to lead five young people into a nation I’ve never been to before. I’ll do my best to lead and protect and disciple them during this next month of their lives. We’ve spent the last six days living and eating and practicing dramas together. We’ll depend upon each other and lean on each other and trust each other. We’ll feed the addiction together as we see God move in ways we could never dream or imagine. We drive today into Botswana from South Africa. Tomorrow we continue with a ten hour drive into Namibia where we’ll spend the time in schools presenting children with the Truth about who they are.
God is the addiction. And it’s worth it.
4.04.2007
Forty
About forty minutes ago I sat in a small living room in an apartment on the third floor in a small India village. I sat in the honored guest’s seat, so I sat on the only piece of furniture in the room. Twenty-seven other people were also there; most sitting on small carpets or straw mats on the floor. Forty minutes ago I was charged with the task of motivating, explaining and informing the small church about the importance of children’s ministry and the purpose of Book of Hope. As I worked through my introduction and our mission statement I paused as I repeated these words, “It is our responsibility to tell children God loves them and Jesus is worthy of our praise”.
During the past week we’ve spent time with pastors and area coordinators challenging them to think differently about children’s ministry and how important it is. It’s important to understand that if we don’t put God’s word into the hearts and minds of the children, someone else will put something else there. There are over four hundred and twenty million children in India. There is a lack of material intended to reach children. Children are the most receptive to the Gospel. Forty minutes ago I looked into the eyes of the people who will first-hand tell children how much God loves them.
In the Indian context it is difficult to separate Jesus and the one true God from the multitudes of other religions. With millions of god’s in the Hindu religion Jesus becomes just another face among the others. What makes Him different or unique when there are other god’s promising prosperity, happiness, peace, long-life, fertility and other temporary fixes to our ailments? You need not drive far to find a shrine or a temple dedicated to a statue that will never heal, help or listen to your needs. These places of worship are visited daily by the masses. A small prayer or flowers or money is left to try and gain approval from the statue. Somehow in some way these rituals bring false hope that somehow the action of obedience and reverence will improve life. What is it that separates the story of Jesus Christ from the millions of other god’s? What is it that makes the story of Christianity so different than any other religion? The difference is that God sent Christ to return us to Him. God is reaching down to all who are willing to come, the Shiva’s aren’t trying to reach down to any of us.
In Matthew 21 we read an interesting story about children and what they are taught. In verse six we read how Jesus triumphantly enters Jerusalem. Coats and palm branches are laid before Him. As the crowds are shouting His praise, He begins healing and setting people free. Soon the children begin shouting as well. They know who Jesus is because they hear others praising Him and they see His miracles. The children hear what others are saying and they join in the worship. The religious leaders and teachers are upset and angry about what’s happening. The Pharisee’s are upset that even the children are praising Him. Jesus defends and rebukes them, “From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise”. The children were taught who He was and the praise He is due.
It always upsets me that the religious leaders and teachers didn’t even recognize who Jesus was. They were so caught up in their obedience to the law they were completely blinded when the fulfillment was right in front of them. I will never become a Pharisee. I will never tell people one thing and live another.
Our meeting tonight went well. The small church is excited to begin using the Book of Hope as a tool to reach the children in their communities. Each of the members will try to reach out to about 10 children each. This of course will also impact the families. As we prepared to leave I was struck by the thought that in one year this church may have to find a bigger house to meet in. Here, the children are being taught.
Forty minutes ago our car stopped at a light. A ten-year-old girl slowly approached the car. Her clothes were filthy. Even in the dim streetlight I could see she was dirty and malnourished. Her actions had obviously been repeated hundreds of times before. She slowly began wiping street dust from the windows of our car. After she finished she came to the window and tapped on it repeatedly. Putting her hand to her mouth as a sign to say she needed money for food. My mind and my heart battled. My mind tells me she’ll never see any of the money I give her. As soon as I hand it over someone older and much less needy will take it from her. My mind tells me that the money will never go to provide the food she desperately needs. What can I do? How much can I really help this little one? Are there any words that would break the lifestyle she lives in? While my mind tells me one thing, my heart breaks knowing she’s only trying to survive. The stillness in the vehicle marks the unease to which all four of us feel. We all sit in silence hoping the light will soon change, the traffic will begin moving and we can leave the whole situation behind us.
Forty-eight minutes ago I told 27 people they need to tell children God loves them and Jesus is worthy of our praise. Forty minutes ago I tried shifting my focus away from the hurting world this child lives in. Forty minutes ago I found myself a Pharisee.
During the past week we’ve spent time with pastors and area coordinators challenging them to think differently about children’s ministry and how important it is. It’s important to understand that if we don’t put God’s word into the hearts and minds of the children, someone else will put something else there. There are over four hundred and twenty million children in India. There is a lack of material intended to reach children. Children are the most receptive to the Gospel. Forty minutes ago I looked into the eyes of the people who will first-hand tell children how much God loves them.
In the Indian context it is difficult to separate Jesus and the one true God from the multitudes of other religions. With millions of god’s in the Hindu religion Jesus becomes just another face among the others. What makes Him different or unique when there are other god’s promising prosperity, happiness, peace, long-life, fertility and other temporary fixes to our ailments? You need not drive far to find a shrine or a temple dedicated to a statue that will never heal, help or listen to your needs. These places of worship are visited daily by the masses. A small prayer or flowers or money is left to try and gain approval from the statue. Somehow in some way these rituals bring false hope that somehow the action of obedience and reverence will improve life. What is it that separates the story of Jesus Christ from the millions of other god’s? What is it that makes the story of Christianity so different than any other religion? The difference is that God sent Christ to return us to Him. God is reaching down to all who are willing to come, the Shiva’s aren’t trying to reach down to any of us.
In Matthew 21 we read an interesting story about children and what they are taught. In verse six we read how Jesus triumphantly enters Jerusalem. Coats and palm branches are laid before Him. As the crowds are shouting His praise, He begins healing and setting people free. Soon the children begin shouting as well. They know who Jesus is because they hear others praising Him and they see His miracles. The children hear what others are saying and they join in the worship. The religious leaders and teachers are upset and angry about what’s happening. The Pharisee’s are upset that even the children are praising Him. Jesus defends and rebukes them, “From the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise”. The children were taught who He was and the praise He is due.
It always upsets me that the religious leaders and teachers didn’t even recognize who Jesus was. They were so caught up in their obedience to the law they were completely blinded when the fulfillment was right in front of them. I will never become a Pharisee. I will never tell people one thing and live another.
Our meeting tonight went well. The small church is excited to begin using the Book of Hope as a tool to reach the children in their communities. Each of the members will try to reach out to about 10 children each. This of course will also impact the families. As we prepared to leave I was struck by the thought that in one year this church may have to find a bigger house to meet in. Here, the children are being taught.
Forty minutes ago our car stopped at a light. A ten-year-old girl slowly approached the car. Her clothes were filthy. Even in the dim streetlight I could see she was dirty and malnourished. Her actions had obviously been repeated hundreds of times before. She slowly began wiping street dust from the windows of our car. After she finished she came to the window and tapped on it repeatedly. Putting her hand to her mouth as a sign to say she needed money for food. My mind and my heart battled. My mind tells me she’ll never see any of the money I give her. As soon as I hand it over someone older and much less needy will take it from her. My mind tells me that the money will never go to provide the food she desperately needs. What can I do? How much can I really help this little one? Are there any words that would break the lifestyle she lives in? While my mind tells me one thing, my heart breaks knowing she’s only trying to survive. The stillness in the vehicle marks the unease to which all four of us feel. We all sit in silence hoping the light will soon change, the traffic will begin moving and we can leave the whole situation behind us.
Forty-eight minutes ago I told 27 people they need to tell children God loves them and Jesus is worthy of our praise. Forty minutes ago I tried shifting my focus away from the hurting world this child lives in. Forty minutes ago I found myself a Pharisee.
3.24.2007
Uncommon Equations
How is it possible that 4 = 400,000? In every country around the world math is usually the same. I say that loosely knowing that many of us have experienced times when money or time or distance or weight seemed to be different to us than it did to others. Somehow in the deep recesses of my mind I remember hearing detail assignments of the next few weeks of my life and yet when I look at it now, the math has changed.
About 2 years ago the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association came to India and hosted a program called My Hope India. Their strategy was to train home cell group leaders who would invite neighbor families into their home for a meal and to watch and discuss one of the televised Billy Graham movies that was airing on local T.V. Recruiting about 250 coordinators who trained about 4-5,000 trainers who in turn trained about 500,000 cell leaders who turned around and invited friends and neighbors to be a part of the outreach. It was hugely successful. (Please understand that most of this information is from those deep recesses of my mind which can be prone to mistake)
As the success of this project grew and as the cell leaders began asking for other ways to reach out and continue this type of ministry Book of Hope realized the possibilities of reaching out to thousands of children through the same method.
So I'm drafted to go to India. Our job seems simple enough. Step in to take advantage of an already existing network and train a few hundred people to be trainers of cell group leaders. Let's see how this program works and get it rolling for an Easter launch. Then we'll reload and really push a big Christmas outreach. Wait a second, Easter is only a few weeks at the most away. Which is why we got here a lot earlier than we originally expected. Somehow days and calendars are different here as well.
I guess the next obstacle comes when you realize that all of the volunteers are not all in the same city in India. So during the next seven days we'll be traveling to six different cities and training over 1200 people. These people will turn around and train the cell leaders who will each invite about 10 kids into their homes for an Easter viewing of the GodMan animated movie. This is a 50 minute film set in an Indian context explaining the life story of Christ. It will be aired on National Television with the cell leaders there to distribute the Book of Hope to the children who attend their homes.
So how does 4 equal 400,000? When you consider that one is the number of our team here to do the trainings and the other number is the goal for cell leaders we're hoping to have trained by Easter. Now even if this number is only 100 or 200 thousand trained, if each of them invite 10 kids the potential to reach around 1 to 2 million children is possible. Yet when you realize India's population of children is around 450 million you quickly realize you're in an unending race to complete a task that only God can accomplish.
I apologize for the inconvenience of the numbers and amounts I've thrown in this post, but for some reason, in the deep recesses of my mind I keep telling myself this is all possible. Keeping me balanced is the knowledge there are people like you praying and supporting us. Even more comforting is knowing there is a God looking down on every one of the children who are waiting to hear about His love and purpose for their lives.
Thanks for reading...
About 2 years ago the Billy Graham Evangelistic Association came to India and hosted a program called My Hope India. Their strategy was to train home cell group leaders who would invite neighbor families into their home for a meal and to watch and discuss one of the televised Billy Graham movies that was airing on local T.V. Recruiting about 250 coordinators who trained about 4-5,000 trainers who in turn trained about 500,000 cell leaders who turned around and invited friends and neighbors to be a part of the outreach. It was hugely successful. (Please understand that most of this information is from those deep recesses of my mind which can be prone to mistake)
As the success of this project grew and as the cell leaders began asking for other ways to reach out and continue this type of ministry Book of Hope realized the possibilities of reaching out to thousands of children through the same method.
So I'm drafted to go to India. Our job seems simple enough. Step in to take advantage of an already existing network and train a few hundred people to be trainers of cell group leaders. Let's see how this program works and get it rolling for an Easter launch. Then we'll reload and really push a big Christmas outreach. Wait a second, Easter is only a few weeks at the most away. Which is why we got here a lot earlier than we originally expected. Somehow days and calendars are different here as well.
I guess the next obstacle comes when you realize that all of the volunteers are not all in the same city in India. So during the next seven days we'll be traveling to six different cities and training over 1200 people. These people will turn around and train the cell leaders who will each invite about 10 kids into their homes for an Easter viewing of the GodMan animated movie. This is a 50 minute film set in an Indian context explaining the life story of Christ. It will be aired on National Television with the cell leaders there to distribute the Book of Hope to the children who attend their homes.
So how does 4 equal 400,000? When you consider that one is the number of our team here to do the trainings and the other number is the goal for cell leaders we're hoping to have trained by Easter. Now even if this number is only 100 or 200 thousand trained, if each of them invite 10 kids the potential to reach around 1 to 2 million children is possible. Yet when you realize India's population of children is around 450 million you quickly realize you're in an unending race to complete a task that only God can accomplish.
I apologize for the inconvenience of the numbers and amounts I've thrown in this post, but for some reason, in the deep recesses of my mind I keep telling myself this is all possible. Keeping me balanced is the knowledge there are people like you praying and supporting us. Even more comforting is knowing there is a God looking down on every one of the children who are waiting to hear about His love and purpose for their lives.
Thanks for reading...
2.07.2007
Everything and nothing
A man sits down across from me, his name might make you laugh and think it’s more of a pet’s name than anything else. Knowing this man and his history however makes me think he could probably harm me in multiple ways that I don’t want to think of.
Our 3 ½ hour trip through the winding Andes Mountains was made even more memorable as this Ex-government intelligence officer told me his story. Stories filled with three-day hikes through mountains, friends and coworkers being assassinated, spending 3 weeks with an opposing military force only to find out they were protecting him from a corrupt portion of his own forces. Hearing of his journeys of passing completely unnoticed through multiple checkpoints and seeing his wife killed as someone made a fourth attempt on his life. I think about my life and how the problems and difficulties I’ve faced have paled in comparison to his.
I look over the table at this man whose integrity has kept him out of work because he takes no part or exposes corruption. He trusts that God will bring him work as he needs it and God will provide for him and his two sons. As I see him sitting across from me his glasses are mere inches off the book he scans and has been reading for the past thirty minutes.
What words of life does he find in his Bible? He studies it so intently. What verses mean so much more to him than they do to me? What phrases and promises bring peace and comfort into a man’s life who’s given everything for his country, only to have just about everything taken away? What would I be willing to give or to die for? Does the man sitting across the table count those things as a loss? Or does he realize that he has nothing, so he can have everything?
Has he realized something that I have not? When he awakes in the morning does he wonder whether he will finish the day? Does he trust that his life is in the hands of a creator who is fashioning and preparing him for even greater days? Do I live that same way?
His fingers lead the way to the passages, and his eyes stay fixed… I realize now he’s rereading the passage the preacher spoke from tonight. He’s looking back at the words that have probably sustained him through weeks and years of desperation. It’s not a fancy Bible, no fancy notes or commentaries, but to this man, it’s everything. It’s the words of truth and life that have and will bring him everything he needs. This is everything to him, without Christ in his life it's nothing. What is it to me?
"Are the things you're living for worth Christ dying for?"
- epitaph of Leonard Ravenhill
Our 3 ½ hour trip through the winding Andes Mountains was made even more memorable as this Ex-government intelligence officer told me his story. Stories filled with three-day hikes through mountains, friends and coworkers being assassinated, spending 3 weeks with an opposing military force only to find out they were protecting him from a corrupt portion of his own forces. Hearing of his journeys of passing completely unnoticed through multiple checkpoints and seeing his wife killed as someone made a fourth attempt on his life. I think about my life and how the problems and difficulties I’ve faced have paled in comparison to his.
I look over the table at this man whose integrity has kept him out of work because he takes no part or exposes corruption. He trusts that God will bring him work as he needs it and God will provide for him and his two sons. As I see him sitting across from me his glasses are mere inches off the book he scans and has been reading for the past thirty minutes.
What words of life does he find in his Bible? He studies it so intently. What verses mean so much more to him than they do to me? What phrases and promises bring peace and comfort into a man’s life who’s given everything for his country, only to have just about everything taken away? What would I be willing to give or to die for? Does the man sitting across the table count those things as a loss? Or does he realize that he has nothing, so he can have everything?
Has he realized something that I have not? When he awakes in the morning does he wonder whether he will finish the day? Does he trust that his life is in the hands of a creator who is fashioning and preparing him for even greater days? Do I live that same way?
His fingers lead the way to the passages, and his eyes stay fixed… I realize now he’s rereading the passage the preacher spoke from tonight. He’s looking back at the words that have probably sustained him through weeks and years of desperation. It’s not a fancy Bible, no fancy notes or commentaries, but to this man, it’s everything. It’s the words of truth and life that have and will bring him everything he needs. This is everything to him, without Christ in his life it's nothing. What is it to me?
"Are the things you're living for worth Christ dying for?"
- epitaph of Leonard Ravenhill
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