Thoughts from the Narrative Class at Radius, dntn Greenville.
So, Genesis 1:26-28. God makes us, man and woman, in His image, 'after our likeness'.
Genesis 3:5 When the snake temps us, he claims that the fruit on the tree of the knowledge of Good and Evil will make us be like God.
The odd thing is, to some degree, they already were like Him. Satan tempts them with the desire to be like God, while already they have been made in God's own image. The fall comes when Adam and Eve stop resting in what God has done for them (made in His image) and to them (breathed His life into them) and instead strive after fulfillment outside of God.
James 1:12-15 talks about being tempted and lured (not by God, but) by our own desires, and thus falling into sin.
The very next paragraph reads "Do not be deceived, my beloved brothers and sisters. Every good gift and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is no variation or shadow due to change. Of His own will He brought us forth by the word of truth, that we should be a kind of firstfruits of His creatures" (16-18).
Check it- we, like Adam and Even are the new creation, born again, firstfruits of His creatures. Satan's temptation against us is the same: 'go, be like God- find the fulfillment to your desires, your longings, elsewhere.'
Yet James speaks to us, saying 'Do not be deceived. All good is of God; fulfullment of our desires, true life, hope, love, is of God. He made us what we are, by His will.'
So, our call then, like that of Adam and Eve, is to rest in what Jesus Christ has done for us (dying on the cross as a substitute for our sin) and to us (living within us by His Spirit). We can't be more like Him outside of Him- we simply are made righteous in Christ. In Him is our hope, the fulfillment of our desires, true life, hope, love. Here is our identity, our imago dei, complete and whole.
cool aye?
-drew
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Sunday, September 12, 2010
VH 2: To the God who Says He Hears Me
to the God who says He hears me
That I doubt Your ears, You know,
for I have told You so, and You hear me.
That I find frustration when I do not recognize You, You know,
for I have told You so, and You hear me.
That I want more of You yet know no process of attainment, You know,
for I have told You so, and You hear me.
And still You are unchanged,
so You have told me.
Still You love,
so You have told me.
Still You speak, and hear, and direct my ways,
so You have told me.
Oh God who says He hears-
give me ears to hear as well as You do.
That I doubt Your ears, You know,
for I have told You so, and You hear me.
That I find frustration when I do not recognize You, You know,
for I have told You so, and You hear me.
That I want more of You yet know no process of attainment, You know,
for I have told You so, and You hear me.
And still You are unchanged,
so You have told me.
Still You love,
so You have told me.
Still You speak, and hear, and direct my ways,
so You have told me.
Oh God who says He hears-
give me ears to hear as well as You do.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
VH 1: Theology
Lord,
Though I feel farthest from thee,
I must challenge it, the feeling.
For by one cross You have drawn near
in a way unchallengeable by my hand
by any hand
by any frame
by any act
by any love.
You are Alpha and Omega,
Author and Perfecter,
the Hope of glory and Glory itself.
Lord God, how would I know thee,
save by thy hand?
Know myself saved by thy hand,
without your whispers, sweet joys?
I dare not become a stoic:
I too greatly fear the absence of emotion.
So too do I fear its tyranny,
and the tyranny of reason
though neither will I flee from it.
I fear imagination as well, for it
appears less controllable and yet also
less external.
Perhaps this makes it true;
as a rule, it makes it wondrous.
I fear my own head, but I know nowhere else to think.
I fear my own heart, but know nowhere else to feel.
I fear my own imagination, yet know no other way to seek.
Where else can I go, my Lord? You are the spring of eternal life:
That I would find thee, stumble upon thee, in all of me-
this is my feeble prayer,
Amen
Though I feel farthest from thee,
I must challenge it, the feeling.
For by one cross You have drawn near
in a way unchallengeable by my hand
by any hand
by any frame
by any act
by any love.
You are Alpha and Omega,
Author and Perfecter,
the Hope of glory and Glory itself.
Lord God, how would I know thee,
save by thy hand?
Know myself saved by thy hand,
without your whispers, sweet joys?
I dare not become a stoic:
I too greatly fear the absence of emotion.
So too do I fear its tyranny,
and the tyranny of reason
though neither will I flee from it.
I fear imagination as well, for it
appears less controllable and yet also
less external.
Perhaps this makes it true;
as a rule, it makes it wondrous.
I fear my own head, but I know nowhere else to think.
I fear my own heart, but know nowhere else to feel.
I fear my own imagination, yet know no other way to seek.
Where else can I go, my Lord? You are the spring of eternal life:
That I would find thee, stumble upon thee, in all of me-
this is my feeble prayer,
Amen
Friday, August 6, 2010
Great is Thy faithfulness, O God my Father
There is no shadow of turning with Thee
Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not
As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be
Great is Thy faithfulness, great is Thy faithfulness
Morning by morning new mercies I see
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided,
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.
----
I really like mandolins. I spent a few weeks researching in my off-time, finding which ones are worth the money and which aren’t, what kind of set-up costs would a new mando incur, where and when to buy, etc. Joel, the father in the awesome family with whom I currently reside, researched with me. In end, the knowledge that I did not need a mando, and the lingering suspicion and guilt accompanying spending money(1), resulted in me NOT buying a mandolin. Man, I had high aspirations. We’d play it that thing in RUF, in the House, on Table Rock, at a contra dance. But in the end, I didn’t need it, and I felt the guilt, however unreasonable, coming. So I didn’t buy. I figure, if I’m supposed to have a mandolin, I’m gonna find one dirt cheap, or one’s gonna drop in my lap.
Joel bought one (he’s way more fun than me), so I did get to play his a bit.
I’ve struggled SO much with wanting to accomplish things this summer. The fact is, you don’t really accomplish much church planting, by man’s measurements. Attendance didn’t explode. Offerings didn’t triple. I haven’t seen any miraculous healings while walking downtown (yet). I’ve really struggled with wanting to minister to strangers, and having no idea how to start. Church planting’s hard.
I’ve wrestled with the conflict between resting in God and pursuing God. How do I seek His face, yet trust that He is the one doing the moving? When I chase Him, I naturally think me finding Him depends on me. It doesn’t, and so I become frustrated (hence last post). The reality is, it’s all up to Him, on His time.
I have fought with a perceived lack of compassion within me own heart. So much of my ‘love’ is done out of either a sense of duty or a self-gratification- it makes all the discussion of repenting even of our best days makes sense. I want to really love people, I want to see deep down that the Father desires them more than anything. Like a farmer, who finds a treasure in a field, and sells everything to get the field for his own. Or a collector who finds that one pearl worth it all else. I want to run to the next person I see with any injury, compelled to pray because I am struck by the sheer greatness of the Father’s love towards them. I want gut-wrenching compassion. (Be careful what you wish for, right?).
These struggles have been with me since the beginning. Even as I headed to camp.
------
I decided to give doubt no quarter at camp, to trust God’s faithfulness, and to persevere for a few more weeks, at least.
After camp, I had the afternoon and evening of that first Monday off.
I went to a coffee shop and wrote the first draft of the last post, somewhat frustrated, somewhat grumpy.
As I wrote, the guy next to me kept commenting on the fluctuation of the internet connection. So we had a conversation, discussed Wesley vs. Calvin (like I’m really that well versed in the Institutes), and he talked a little about his wife that left him. Hm. Odd listening to a stranger talk about hard stuff. Kinda like ministry.
I went for a walk downtown. I had a couple conversations with assorted strangers about my camera as I tried to capture the moon. Actually, a guy I met a few weeks ago, my age, who happens to have just studied abroad in South Africa (like me), was down by the water, and we chatted with his girlfriend about lunar photography (a passion of his) and soccer (hers). A connection I fully expected to die was rekindled. Hm. Odd. This felt like relational ministry. With strangers.
I kept shooting (camera, not gun) as they went along. An older fellow walked up and started chatting about the history of the place. We talked for, eh, two hours or so (2). He told me about his late wife, how she hid things from him, but how he still loved her. He teared up several times. He spoke of change, of times gone and time going, of medicine and disease, of bootlegging and flounder-gigging, of family and friends, cancer, death and dying. And so we talked the evening away, as the moon rose out of focus. I listened mainly. In the end, I prayed with him, and we went our separate ways. Here’s to you, Bert.
But don’t miss something. Ministry to strangers, all over the place, and I had nothing to do with it.
I got an email pretty soon after that. Maybe Wednesday. A gal I met briefly the weekend before wrote to say that she felt God wanted me to know some things (something I’m always glad to know).
She told me that I had a heart to rest in God. A peace-carrier, she called me. She said that this abiding would lead to empowerment for ministry.
She told me that my compassion was genuine, that I really loved well. That God thought I loved well, her words.
Then she told me to have a great day, and added a little emoticon (3). And that was that.
God is faithful. Very, very faithful. He knows my heart. He knows the silly things over which I wrestle. And, sometimes, His love and faithfulness are very obvious- particularly when they are unexpected.
One last example. Joel walked in last week while I was a-pickin’ on his beautiful mando. He tells me that, when he bought it, he felt God immediately tell him that its purpose was to be given away. And, it seemed apparent to Joel, seeing as how I’d taken to it, that he was supposed to give it…to me.
I have a beautiful mandolin.
----
Faithfulness with predictability yields boredom and robotics.
Adventure without faithfulness yields fear and disaster.
In God, we have faithfulness and adventure, for He changeth not, yet we see new mercies each day.
----
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me. And that’s that. Yea and Amen.
I’ll be home on Sunday.
-drew
ps- pray for me. I’m preachin’ this week.
Footnotes:
(1) No lie, the camera I bought last summer was a point of conflict in my heart and in my head for months. NOTE: Wealth is not a problem. Jesus commanding the rich young ruler to sell his house and giving the money to the poor was not a universal declaration of the Christian life. It was a particular challenge to a particular idolatry- that of wealth, and of finding one’s hope and security in money. On the other hand, the man who stores up great wealth for tomorrow’s security is called a fool by God in Luke 12. That challenges my savings account- something I will continue to wrestle with. But King David was ballin’ rich. AND he was a man after God’s own heart. So wealth, in and of itself, is not a problem. Maybe a post on that later.
(2) yup. TWO HOURS.
(3) :)
There is no shadow of turning with Thee
Thou changest not, Thy compassions they fail not
As Thou hast been, Thou forever wilt be
Great is Thy faithfulness, great is Thy faithfulness
Morning by morning new mercies I see
All I have needed Thy hand hath provided,
Great is Thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me.
----
I really like mandolins. I spent a few weeks researching in my off-time, finding which ones are worth the money and which aren’t, what kind of set-up costs would a new mando incur, where and when to buy, etc. Joel, the father in the awesome family with whom I currently reside, researched with me. In end, the knowledge that I did not need a mando, and the lingering suspicion and guilt accompanying spending money(1), resulted in me NOT buying a mandolin. Man, I had high aspirations. We’d play it that thing in RUF, in the House, on Table Rock, at a contra dance. But in the end, I didn’t need it, and I felt the guilt, however unreasonable, coming. So I didn’t buy. I figure, if I’m supposed to have a mandolin, I’m gonna find one dirt cheap, or one’s gonna drop in my lap.
Joel bought one (he’s way more fun than me), so I did get to play his a bit.
I’ve struggled SO much with wanting to accomplish things this summer. The fact is, you don’t really accomplish much church planting, by man’s measurements. Attendance didn’t explode. Offerings didn’t triple. I haven’t seen any miraculous healings while walking downtown (yet). I’ve really struggled with wanting to minister to strangers, and having no idea how to start. Church planting’s hard.
I’ve wrestled with the conflict between resting in God and pursuing God. How do I seek His face, yet trust that He is the one doing the moving? When I chase Him, I naturally think me finding Him depends on me. It doesn’t, and so I become frustrated (hence last post). The reality is, it’s all up to Him, on His time.
I have fought with a perceived lack of compassion within me own heart. So much of my ‘love’ is done out of either a sense of duty or a self-gratification- it makes all the discussion of repenting even of our best days makes sense. I want to really love people, I want to see deep down that the Father desires them more than anything. Like a farmer, who finds a treasure in a field, and sells everything to get the field for his own. Or a collector who finds that one pearl worth it all else. I want to run to the next person I see with any injury, compelled to pray because I am struck by the sheer greatness of the Father’s love towards them. I want gut-wrenching compassion. (Be careful what you wish for, right?).
These struggles have been with me since the beginning. Even as I headed to camp.
------
I decided to give doubt no quarter at camp, to trust God’s faithfulness, and to persevere for a few more weeks, at least.
After camp, I had the afternoon and evening of that first Monday off.
I went to a coffee shop and wrote the first draft of the last post, somewhat frustrated, somewhat grumpy.
As I wrote, the guy next to me kept commenting on the fluctuation of the internet connection. So we had a conversation, discussed Wesley vs. Calvin (like I’m really that well versed in the Institutes), and he talked a little about his wife that left him. Hm. Odd listening to a stranger talk about hard stuff. Kinda like ministry.
I went for a walk downtown. I had a couple conversations with assorted strangers about my camera as I tried to capture the moon. Actually, a guy I met a few weeks ago, my age, who happens to have just studied abroad in South Africa (like me), was down by the water, and we chatted with his girlfriend about lunar photography (a passion of his) and soccer (hers). A connection I fully expected to die was rekindled. Hm. Odd. This felt like relational ministry. With strangers.
I kept shooting (camera, not gun) as they went along. An older fellow walked up and started chatting about the history of the place. We talked for, eh, two hours or so (2). He told me about his late wife, how she hid things from him, but how he still loved her. He teared up several times. He spoke of change, of times gone and time going, of medicine and disease, of bootlegging and flounder-gigging, of family and friends, cancer, death and dying. And so we talked the evening away, as the moon rose out of focus. I listened mainly. In the end, I prayed with him, and we went our separate ways. Here’s to you, Bert.
But don’t miss something. Ministry to strangers, all over the place, and I had nothing to do with it.
I got an email pretty soon after that. Maybe Wednesday. A gal I met briefly the weekend before wrote to say that she felt God wanted me to know some things (something I’m always glad to know).
She told me that I had a heart to rest in God. A peace-carrier, she called me. She said that this abiding would lead to empowerment for ministry.
She told me that my compassion was genuine, that I really loved well. That God thought I loved well, her words.
Then she told me to have a great day, and added a little emoticon (3). And that was that.
God is faithful. Very, very faithful. He knows my heart. He knows the silly things over which I wrestle. And, sometimes, His love and faithfulness are very obvious- particularly when they are unexpected.
One last example. Joel walked in last week while I was a-pickin’ on his beautiful mando. He tells me that, when he bought it, he felt God immediately tell him that its purpose was to be given away. And, it seemed apparent to Joel, seeing as how I’d taken to it, that he was supposed to give it…to me.
I have a beautiful mandolin.
----
Faithfulness with predictability yields boredom and robotics.
Adventure without faithfulness yields fear and disaster.
In God, we have faithfulness and adventure, for He changeth not, yet we see new mercies each day.
----
Great is thy faithfulness, Lord, unto me. And that’s that. Yea and Amen.
I’ll be home on Sunday.
-drew
ps- pray for me. I’m preachin’ this week.
Footnotes:
(1) No lie, the camera I bought last summer was a point of conflict in my heart and in my head for months. NOTE: Wealth is not a problem. Jesus commanding the rich young ruler to sell his house and giving the money to the poor was not a universal declaration of the Christian life. It was a particular challenge to a particular idolatry- that of wealth, and of finding one’s hope and security in money. On the other hand, the man who stores up great wealth for tomorrow’s security is called a fool by God in Luke 12. That challenges my savings account- something I will continue to wrestle with. But King David was ballin’ rich. AND he was a man after God’s own heart. So wealth, in and of itself, is not a problem. Maybe a post on that later.
(2) yup. TWO HOURS.
(3) :)
Monday, July 26, 2010
'Fear and Quarters': New Bern 5
or, 'A Vacation at Camp is Not, for Many Reasons'.
or, 'Omnes Geniosos Melancolicos Esse.' [think Albrecht Durer]
[note- The bulk of this was written a week ago. The next update will come soon, and be more encouraging, yet strongly related to this message. So read both, but if you only have time to read one, wait and read the next- it'll be happier.]
I wanted to prove myself by leading worship for a week. I wanted to prove myself to the staff. I wanted my old friends to say, yep, I still want to be his friend. I wanted more recent friends to say, wow, I really like this guy. I wanted youth group leaders to say, man, he should lead at my church. I wanted the director to say, gosh, I wish he hadn't left. I wanted to be the hero, the provider, the savior and the accomplisher.
Of course, I am not 'THE' any of those, and a righteous, loving God let me know. Worship flopped for a couple days. Kids and leaders alike looked at the screen with distracted, let's-just-get-through-this faces.
And I crumbled. If I can't make people worship, if I can't hear God's voice, if I can't by my nature be worth befriending, then who am I? Where is my value?
I am blessed to have friends that take me back to the cross, because I fail at elementary Christianity all the time. I need Jesus, and have Him, and that's all I need for worship. I want to make my own value, to prove myself to others and to me. But I can't. God won't let me, because deep in my heart such striving stands on the lie that I am a self-made, self-saved, self-sufficient man. In fact, I am merely self-centered. All creation, salvation, and provision is by God's hand.
So my friends called me back to worship, and I tried. After I made sure the coast was clear, I turned up the Jars of Clay (intermingled with JJ Heller and Matt Gilman) and danced. Solo worship on the guitar is sometimes hard for me, because I'm so quick to make it cerebral ("what should I do next?"), and thus I depend on me again. Me attempting to dance worshipfully is too goofy for me to really worry about it much. It was good worship, I think. We can talk about that.
[Which makes me think- painting, music, dancing, photography, tongues- all of these are in some effect communication, yet can be communicative without recognizable language, the only language from which we can derive intellectual reasoning. So, maybe they are great candidates for worshipful expression because they allow us to step out of a cerebral enlightenment culture and engage with something outside of that. And not merely emotional either. They can be, but the arts (and tongues) seem to exist in some third realm. Perhaps something akin to spirit? I'm not sure....]
Anyway, God drew worship from us in the end, and it was good, and I was encouraged by many friends there. The end.
New subject, but connected:
Sometimes I fear that God doesn't move. Sometimes I fear that I have no sure salvation. Sometimes I fear that I've picked the wrong God. Sometimes I fear that God doesn't exist at all.
Nearly every aspect of my life points to the contrary. To faith. I have been in complete hidden sin, insecurity, and fear of being found out, yet freed by the gospel and told that I am forgiven. I have seen other lives freed by the gospel. I have seen physical healings- heck, I've been healed physically [thanks Andrew]. I've heard countless testimonies of hope and peace and love and joy and even of bodily resurrection [yes, frequently and recently, though not in the states].
Of all my experience and all my reason, I would expect these fears to be history. Yet these fears come, I think, as a cheap solution to frustration. I strive for God, sometimes hard, fervently, passionately. And when I don't see growth in the ways in which I think I should, I become frustrated. Fear and doubt release the pressure of unfulfilled expectations.
The problem is I doubt God instead of maintaining faith whilst being impatient.
In my experience, God's faithfulness is, well, faithful. My impatience is a better explanation for my frustrations.
Irrational fear makes for a very poor plaything. [thanks Chris].
And so I have resolved to fear no more without a valid threat, and to doubt no more without valid questions. Impatience is not valid.
No quarter for fear. Not even a dime.
Check out KJV/NASB translations of Prov 23:7.
-drew
[Expect a very good, hopeful update soon. Like tomorrow.]
or, 'Omnes Geniosos Melancolicos Esse.' [think Albrecht Durer]
[note- The bulk of this was written a week ago. The next update will come soon, and be more encouraging, yet strongly related to this message. So read both, but if you only have time to read one, wait and read the next- it'll be happier.]
I wanted to prove myself by leading worship for a week. I wanted to prove myself to the staff. I wanted my old friends to say, yep, I still want to be his friend. I wanted more recent friends to say, wow, I really like this guy. I wanted youth group leaders to say, man, he should lead at my church. I wanted the director to say, gosh, I wish he hadn't left. I wanted to be the hero, the provider, the savior and the accomplisher.
Of course, I am not 'THE' any of those, and a righteous, loving God let me know. Worship flopped for a couple days. Kids and leaders alike looked at the screen with distracted, let's-just-get-through-this faces.
And I crumbled. If I can't make people worship, if I can't hear God's voice, if I can't by my nature be worth befriending, then who am I? Where is my value?
I am blessed to have friends that take me back to the cross, because I fail at elementary Christianity all the time. I need Jesus, and have Him, and that's all I need for worship. I want to make my own value, to prove myself to others and to me. But I can't. God won't let me, because deep in my heart such striving stands on the lie that I am a self-made, self-saved, self-sufficient man. In fact, I am merely self-centered. All creation, salvation, and provision is by God's hand.
So my friends called me back to worship, and I tried. After I made sure the coast was clear, I turned up the Jars of Clay (intermingled with JJ Heller and Matt Gilman) and danced. Solo worship on the guitar is sometimes hard for me, because I'm so quick to make it cerebral ("what should I do next?"), and thus I depend on me again. Me attempting to dance worshipfully is too goofy for me to really worry about it much. It was good worship, I think. We can talk about that.
[Which makes me think- painting, music, dancing, photography, tongues- all of these are in some effect communication, yet can be communicative without recognizable language, the only language from which we can derive intellectual reasoning. So, maybe they are great candidates for worshipful expression because they allow us to step out of a cerebral enlightenment culture and engage with something outside of that. And not merely emotional either. They can be, but the arts (and tongues) seem to exist in some third realm. Perhaps something akin to spirit? I'm not sure....]
Anyway, God drew worship from us in the end, and it was good, and I was encouraged by many friends there. The end.
New subject, but connected:
Sometimes I fear that God doesn't move. Sometimes I fear that I have no sure salvation. Sometimes I fear that I've picked the wrong God. Sometimes I fear that God doesn't exist at all.
Nearly every aspect of my life points to the contrary. To faith. I have been in complete hidden sin, insecurity, and fear of being found out, yet freed by the gospel and told that I am forgiven. I have seen other lives freed by the gospel. I have seen physical healings- heck, I've been healed physically [thanks Andrew]. I've heard countless testimonies of hope and peace and love and joy and even of bodily resurrection [yes, frequently and recently, though not in the states].
Of all my experience and all my reason, I would expect these fears to be history. Yet these fears come, I think, as a cheap solution to frustration. I strive for God, sometimes hard, fervently, passionately. And when I don't see growth in the ways in which I think I should, I become frustrated. Fear and doubt release the pressure of unfulfilled expectations.
The problem is I doubt God instead of maintaining faith whilst being impatient.
In my experience, God's faithfulness is, well, faithful. My impatience is a better explanation for my frustrations.
Irrational fear makes for a very poor plaything. [thanks Chris].
And so I have resolved to fear no more without a valid threat, and to doubt no more without valid questions. Impatience is not valid.
No quarter for fear. Not even a dime.
Check out KJV/NASB translations of Prov 23:7.
-drew
[Expect a very good, hopeful update soon. Like tomorrow.]
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Give me the Flute: New Bern 4
Anything but me.
Insanity, it is said, is the repetition of events expecting different results.
I met a cessationalist. I like him. He theologically writes off many of my experiences, as my sociological "I" tries so often to do. So he and "I" get along just fine. But, my experiences have happened, externally verified. I prayed for healing, and honest people told me they got better. "Me" can't write it off, as much as "I" want to.
If you understood that last paragraph, you probably are into theology and sociology. Good on you. If not, I can't do much about it.
And so I find myself in the bottom of Sara's travel mug again, with words to speak yet nothing to bring, save that which I find in me. I hope it is more.
Anything but me, as long as it's not just coffee.
--
Anything but me.
For I cannot trust my heart,
nor my memory,
nor my eyes, nor my reason;
nor my emotions, nor my experience;
Anything but me.
For these I can manipulate;
these I can craft for my own.
These, and congestion and I have doubt.
These, and caffeine, and I have confidence.
I remember brokenness, yet I do not feel it now.
I remember healing, yet I fear failure.
How do I doubt that which I have seen?
How does Lazarus send me to the Pharisees? (John 11:46)
Can faith live in theory?
Faith when there is no work to be done?
Can I forge faith from expectation?
Might witness yield courage?
Oh, tell me a story, play me a song.
That I might feel, that I might see.
That I might believe without feeling or seeing.
Remind me of a constant God.
That I might look upon variance with laughter,
and hope. And joy.
--------------------
The biography of Jonathan Edwards makes me doubt my conversion. To have his heart, what I would give!
Here are some quotes from Edwards himself, that I copied into my journal last night, followed by introspective foils.
1-"I began to have a new kind of apprehensions [sic] and ideas of Christ, and the works of redemption, and the glorious way of salvation by him. An inward, sweet sense of these things, at times, came into my heart; and my soul was led away in pleasant views and contemplations of them. And my mind was greatly engaged to spend my time in reading and meditating on Christ, on the beauty and excellency of his person, and the lovely way of salvation by free grace in him."
-contrast to my mind, engaged so frequently in introspection, and prideful theology. 1 Corinthians 8:1- "We know that we all possess knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up." Which do I have, and which does Edwards have? I am broken, here.
2-"And as I was walking there, and looking up on the sky and clouds, there came unto my mind so sweet a sense of the glorious majesty and grace of God, that I know not how to express it - I seemed to see them both in a sweet conjunction; majesty and meekness joined together: it was a sweet, and gentle, and holy majesty; and also a majestic meekness; an awful sweetness; a high, and great, and holy gentleness."
-I would probably look into the sky and think of weather, then of my desire for community and partnership, then of my struggles. Do his words not quicken your heart as they do mine? To have that heart.
3-"After this my sense of divine things gradually incresed, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of everything was altered; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost every thing. God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, moon, and stars; in the clouds, and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for continuance; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things; in the mean time, singing forth, with a low voice my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer."
-AHH! I desire that. To want to be in love. It is an odd sensation, yet known to man in all too familiar frames.
-4 (here's the kicker) "I felt then a great satisfaction, as to my good state; but that did not content me. I had vehement longings of soul after God and Christ, and after more holiness, wherewith my heart seemed to be full, and ready to break; which often brought to my mind the words of the Psalmist [Psa. 119:20] 'My soul breaketh for the longing it hath'. I often felt a mourning and lamenting in my heart, that I had not turned to God sooner, that I might have had more time to grow in grace. My mind was greatly fixed on divine things; almost perpetually in the contemplation of them. I spent most of my time in thinking of divine things, year after year; often walking alone in the woods, and solitary places, for meditation, soliloquy, and prayer, and converse with God; and it was always my manner, at such times, to sing forth my contemplations. I was almost constantly in ejaculatory prayer, wherever I was. Prayer seemed to be natural to me, as the breath by which the inward burnings of my heart had vent."
-The beauty of this last paragraph brings me to my knees. This is not his boasting. This is honest. This is not crafted by his mind, but is an outpouring of Edward's heart (the Nee readers would call it Edwards 'spirit man', I think). I want to live with that kind of engagement with God. Oh how it matches with scripture! The joy of the Lord, all over him. It was from a position of contemplation of God's glory and worship that he lived and spoke and preached. And Jonathan Edwards changed the world.
I want no religion without joy. I want no conversion to law. It is grotesque to me. That is why, in seasons of melancholic waiting (read, when I feel depressed), faith is so far hidden within me, so far from expression. I have no faith in a god without joy. I think C.S. Lewis smells what I'm stepping in. And those who know the God I profess ought smell it too. He is a God of joy, and that's darn good. Creation was about joy, among other things (Gen 1:31). Christ crucified was about joy, among other things (Heb 12:2). The Holy Spirit is about joy, among other things (Gal 5:22). The kingdom is about joy, among other things (Rom 14:17).
Emma Goldman was wrong about many things. We all are. I think she missed some very crucial things, and it breaks my heart- because she was right about dancing. The quotation "A revolution without dancing is not a revolution worth having" (and it's many variants) is attributed to her. It's amazing, after her repeated disparagement of Christianity, she understands what should be there, better than many of those who believe. It is not a religion of fear, but of freedom. It is not of duty and law, but of freedom. Ask Piper. Heck, ask Edwards. Oh, to have Emma read Edwards! She longed for his heart, as I do; she simply failed to believe it could exist. All three of us longed for King David's heart, a recklessly abandoned worshiper. A revolutionary. A dancer.
Jonathan found it. Emma didn't. How then can I find it, and dance?
Correction- the heart found Jonathan (Acts 13:22). So, how then can I be found?
Ok wait. David, dancer, worshiper, warrior, king, poet, shepherd, harpist. He was a man "after God's own heart" (Acts 13:22). The Greek word for 'after' is 'kata', which has alternate definitions, including 'along the coast' and 'conforming'. This statement is not that David sought God's heart. He did, yes, but this phrase actually means that David had a heart conforming to that of God's. He had God's heart. A heart of joy, of celebration. Yes, yes, of justice, and peace and love, YES. But of revolutionary joy. Of dancing.
How can I make this joy well up in me? How do I increase in expectation? How do I make compassion, love, ring true? What can I do, what can I try? What do I need to do? Anything. I'll do anything.
Matthew 11:17 "We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn."
I need but to listen. I need to hear the flute. Play loud God, play loud. Let me dance.
Fun post. I hope you enjoy it. I did.
-drew
Insanity, it is said, is the repetition of events expecting different results.
I met a cessationalist. I like him. He theologically writes off many of my experiences, as my sociological "I" tries so often to do. So he and "I" get along just fine. But, my experiences have happened, externally verified. I prayed for healing, and honest people told me they got better. "Me" can't write it off, as much as "I" want to.
If you understood that last paragraph, you probably are into theology and sociology. Good on you. If not, I can't do much about it.
And so I find myself in the bottom of Sara's travel mug again, with words to speak yet nothing to bring, save that which I find in me. I hope it is more.
Anything but me, as long as it's not just coffee.
--
Anything but me.
For I cannot trust my heart,
nor my memory,
nor my eyes, nor my reason;
nor my emotions, nor my experience;
Anything but me.
For these I can manipulate;
these I can craft for my own.
These, and congestion and I have doubt.
These, and caffeine, and I have confidence.
I remember brokenness, yet I do not feel it now.
I remember healing, yet I fear failure.
How do I doubt that which I have seen?
How does Lazarus send me to the Pharisees? (John 11:46)
Can faith live in theory?
Faith when there is no work to be done?
Can I forge faith from expectation?
Might witness yield courage?
Oh, tell me a story, play me a song.
That I might feel, that I might see.
That I might believe without feeling or seeing.
Remind me of a constant God.
That I might look upon variance with laughter,
and hope. And joy.
--------------------
The biography of Jonathan Edwards makes me doubt my conversion. To have his heart, what I would give!
Here are some quotes from Edwards himself, that I copied into my journal last night, followed by introspective foils.
1-"I began to have a new kind of apprehensions [sic] and ideas of Christ, and the works of redemption, and the glorious way of salvation by him. An inward, sweet sense of these things, at times, came into my heart; and my soul was led away in pleasant views and contemplations of them. And my mind was greatly engaged to spend my time in reading and meditating on Christ, on the beauty and excellency of his person, and the lovely way of salvation by free grace in him."
-contrast to my mind, engaged so frequently in introspection, and prideful theology. 1 Corinthians 8:1- "We know that we all possess knowledge. Knowledge puffs up, but love builds up." Which do I have, and which does Edwards have? I am broken, here.
2-"And as I was walking there, and looking up on the sky and clouds, there came unto my mind so sweet a sense of the glorious majesty and grace of God, that I know not how to express it - I seemed to see them both in a sweet conjunction; majesty and meekness joined together: it was a sweet, and gentle, and holy majesty; and also a majestic meekness; an awful sweetness; a high, and great, and holy gentleness."
-I would probably look into the sky and think of weather, then of my desire for community and partnership, then of my struggles. Do his words not quicken your heart as they do mine? To have that heart.
3-"After this my sense of divine things gradually incresed, and became more and more lively, and had more of that inward sweetness. The appearance of everything was altered; there seemed to be, as it were, a calm, sweet cast, or appearance of divine glory, in almost every thing. God's excellency, his wisdom, his purity and love, seemed to appear in every thing; in the sun, moon, and stars; in the clouds, and blue sky; in the grass, flowers, trees; in the water, and all nature; which used greatly to fix my mind. I often used to sit and view the moon for continuance; and in the day, spent much time in viewing the clouds and sky, to behold the sweet glory of God in these things; in the mean time, singing forth, with a low voice my contemplations of the Creator and Redeemer."
-AHH! I desire that. To want to be in love. It is an odd sensation, yet known to man in all too familiar frames.
-4 (here's the kicker) "I felt then a great satisfaction, as to my good state; but that did not content me. I had vehement longings of soul after God and Christ, and after more holiness, wherewith my heart seemed to be full, and ready to break; which often brought to my mind the words of the Psalmist [Psa. 119:20] 'My soul breaketh for the longing it hath'. I often felt a mourning and lamenting in my heart, that I had not turned to God sooner, that I might have had more time to grow in grace. My mind was greatly fixed on divine things; almost perpetually in the contemplation of them. I spent most of my time in thinking of divine things, year after year; often walking alone in the woods, and solitary places, for meditation, soliloquy, and prayer, and converse with God; and it was always my manner, at such times, to sing forth my contemplations. I was almost constantly in ejaculatory prayer, wherever I was. Prayer seemed to be natural to me, as the breath by which the inward burnings of my heart had vent."
-The beauty of this last paragraph brings me to my knees. This is not his boasting. This is honest. This is not crafted by his mind, but is an outpouring of Edward's heart (the Nee readers would call it Edwards 'spirit man', I think). I want to live with that kind of engagement with God. Oh how it matches with scripture! The joy of the Lord, all over him. It was from a position of contemplation of God's glory and worship that he lived and spoke and preached. And Jonathan Edwards changed the world.
I want no religion without joy. I want no conversion to law. It is grotesque to me. That is why, in seasons of melancholic waiting (read, when I feel depressed), faith is so far hidden within me, so far from expression. I have no faith in a god without joy. I think C.S. Lewis smells what I'm stepping in. And those who know the God I profess ought smell it too. He is a God of joy, and that's darn good. Creation was about joy, among other things (Gen 1:31). Christ crucified was about joy, among other things (Heb 12:2). The Holy Spirit is about joy, among other things (Gal 5:22). The kingdom is about joy, among other things (Rom 14:17).
Emma Goldman was wrong about many things. We all are. I think she missed some very crucial things, and it breaks my heart- because she was right about dancing. The quotation "A revolution without dancing is not a revolution worth having" (and it's many variants) is attributed to her. It's amazing, after her repeated disparagement of Christianity, she understands what should be there, better than many of those who believe. It is not a religion of fear, but of freedom. It is not of duty and law, but of freedom. Ask Piper. Heck, ask Edwards. Oh, to have Emma read Edwards! She longed for his heart, as I do; she simply failed to believe it could exist. All three of us longed for King David's heart, a recklessly abandoned worshiper. A revolutionary. A dancer.
Jonathan found it. Emma didn't. How then can I find it, and dance?
Correction- the heart found Jonathan (Acts 13:22). So, how then can I be found?
Ok wait. David, dancer, worshiper, warrior, king, poet, shepherd, harpist. He was a man "after God's own heart" (Acts 13:22). The Greek word for 'after' is 'kata', which has alternate definitions, including 'along the coast' and 'conforming'. This statement is not that David sought God's heart. He did, yes, but this phrase actually means that David had a heart conforming to that of God's. He had God's heart. A heart of joy, of celebration. Yes, yes, of justice, and peace and love, YES. But of revolutionary joy. Of dancing.
How can I make this joy well up in me? How do I increase in expectation? How do I make compassion, love, ring true? What can I do, what can I try? What do I need to do? Anything. I'll do anything.
Matthew 11:17 "We played the flute for you, and you did not dance; we sang a dirge, and you did not mourn."
I need but to listen. I need to hear the flute. Play loud God, play loud. Let me dance.
Fun post. I hope you enjoy it. I did.
-drew
Monday, June 21, 2010
It's Getting Better all the Ti-i-ime: New Bern 3
It is, and that's good.
This blog will be shorter than most. It's more of an update than a journal, but hopefully it will still be fun...
I wrote a song, which can be see HERE.
I wrote another song, which can be seen HERE - but fair warning, it's expressing a harder emotion than I am currently experiencing. It's just what came out while i was writing. I've felt that way before, but right now, I'm having more peace with just waiting for God.
I led worship for a speaker from England, named Ian Andrews, who can be seen HERE.
He was saved under Martin Lloyd-Jones. Yeah. Sick.
I was shown an INCREDIBLE website which gives you multiple Bible translations (including Greek), Strongs Concordance, and Commentaries. Goodbye, Biblegateway, hello Biblos.
I took some pictures, like this one:
I've met people my age! Yall can add that to your thank-you-prayers.
I've met a ton of local pastors.
We are fasting and praying tomorrow for the church. Join in if you like, if not tomorrow then whenever.
I finished reading Job, digging through the Psalms.
I've revised my opinion of Life Together. Only the first 30 pages are required reading. The rest is dense, but good. I'm currently reading Movements that Changed the World, by Addison. I had my doubts, but pretty good thus far. The Moravians are inspiring, to be sure.
I recommend Meteor Shower by Owl City. Great song, worship potential.
In short, I still am fairly clueless as to what I ought do. BUT, I'm beginning to see that my very presence is having an effect, on both the inertia of the team meetings and the spirits of the leadership. It's becoming easier to rest in what God's doing as it becomes more obvious how little my role truly is. Humbling, yes, but when you've been agonizing over what to do, it is a welcome truth, that I truly do little. God is at work in me, to will and to do.
If you're the praying type, I'm just begging to know God more. I'm slowly coming to a posture in which I don't care what that looks like. If the glory of God lays me flat (hasn't happened yet), or his joy fills me to the point of laughter (has happened before), or lays on my heart an urging to do something (like pray for healing, which has happened, or sing a particular song, which has happened), or convicts me a new sin (definitely happened), or gives me a deeper, fresh revelation of His Word in Scripture (definitely happened), then ok. Whatever. I'm game. Just give me Jesus, as the old hymn goes, when I wake, and when I sleep. I want to walk in the spirit, to be an instrument of God's purposes, of His kingdom now. And so, I just want to get closer to Him. Pray for me, if you will, as I pray.
Sidenote, a friend of mine is getting married Sunday, so I get to take a quick trip to chucktown for that. Yes, safety traveling would be great, but even greater would be a wedding that points to Christ the groom and His love for His Bride, the church. So, lift up the wedding too. The couple would have it no other way.
One last point. Psalm 7:17 says "I will give to the Lord the thanks due to His righteousness". I thought, well that's strange. Praise due, honor due, glory due... I get those. But thanks for being righteous? I don't get it. Then I thought about what life would be like without a righteous God. Yup. I will thank Him for being righteous. It's much better than the alternative.
Well, ta-ta for now. Or perhaps ka-ka, seeing as how Brazil is playing these days...
-drew
This blog will be shorter than most. It's more of an update than a journal, but hopefully it will still be fun...
I wrote a song, which can be see HERE.
I wrote another song, which can be seen HERE - but fair warning, it's expressing a harder emotion than I am currently experiencing. It's just what came out while i was writing. I've felt that way before, but right now, I'm having more peace with just waiting for God.
I led worship for a speaker from England, named Ian Andrews, who can be seen HERE.
He was saved under Martin Lloyd-Jones. Yeah. Sick.
I was shown an INCREDIBLE website which gives you multiple Bible translations (including Greek), Strongs Concordance, and Commentaries. Goodbye, Biblegateway, hello Biblos.
I took some pictures, like this one:
I've met people my age! Yall can add that to your thank-you-prayers.
I've met a ton of local pastors.
We are fasting and praying tomorrow for the church. Join in if you like, if not tomorrow then whenever.
I finished reading Job, digging through the Psalms.
I've revised my opinion of Life Together. Only the first 30 pages are required reading. The rest is dense, but good. I'm currently reading Movements that Changed the World, by Addison. I had my doubts, but pretty good thus far. The Moravians are inspiring, to be sure.
I recommend Meteor Shower by Owl City. Great song, worship potential.
In short, I still am fairly clueless as to what I ought do. BUT, I'm beginning to see that my very presence is having an effect, on both the inertia of the team meetings and the spirits of the leadership. It's becoming easier to rest in what God's doing as it becomes more obvious how little my role truly is. Humbling, yes, but when you've been agonizing over what to do, it is a welcome truth, that I truly do little. God is at work in me, to will and to do.
If you're the praying type, I'm just begging to know God more. I'm slowly coming to a posture in which I don't care what that looks like. If the glory of God lays me flat (hasn't happened yet), or his joy fills me to the point of laughter (has happened before), or lays on my heart an urging to do something (like pray for healing, which has happened, or sing a particular song, which has happened), or convicts me a new sin (definitely happened), or gives me a deeper, fresh revelation of His Word in Scripture (definitely happened), then ok. Whatever. I'm game. Just give me Jesus, as the old hymn goes, when I wake, and when I sleep. I want to walk in the spirit, to be an instrument of God's purposes, of His kingdom now. And so, I just want to get closer to Him. Pray for me, if you will, as I pray.
Sidenote, a friend of mine is getting married Sunday, so I get to take a quick trip to chucktown for that. Yes, safety traveling would be great, but even greater would be a wedding that points to Christ the groom and His love for His Bride, the church. So, lift up the wedding too. The couple would have it no other way.
One last point. Psalm 7:17 says "I will give to the Lord the thanks due to His righteousness". I thought, well that's strange. Praise due, honor due, glory due... I get those. But thanks for being righteous? I don't get it. Then I thought about what life would be like without a righteous God. Yup. I will thank Him for being righteous. It's much better than the alternative.
Well, ta-ta for now. Or perhaps ka-ka, seeing as how Brazil is playing these days...
-drew
Sunday, June 13, 2010
I am Not a Rock: New Bern 2
Apologies for length, but it's story time.
Choo choo*
Confession of the day: I wrestle with doubt. I work for the church, doggone it, doubt should be impossible for someone with my job. But every few months, the father’s prayer for his demon-possessed son, begging for healing, rings anew in me. I believe, help me overcome my unbelief. Amazing that I can beg for God to speak to me, seek His will for my life, pray fervently for miracles, and even see them, and still doubt. But oh my heart is as hard and stubborn as the metal seat that refuses to remain straight on the old epicyclic [automatic win] Raleigh. I need Christ, in whom I wrestle to believe, to replace my seat, er, heart, altogether.
Of course, Jesus does deliver the boy, in the end.
A few days ago ferocious Buster became quite frightened by something under my bed. I looked, didn’t see anything. A ferocious dog afraid of monsters under the bed… hm.
And then K, the two-year-old belonging to my host family, is scared of the giant, portable oscillating fan in my room. She talks all the time, isn’t particularly shy. Yet she fears the fan. “Das a big fan” she says every morning, peeking through the door, open just a crack. “It is a big fan,” I reply, every morning. At night it’s on as I sleep, rolling its lazy breath up and down my futon. It rustles the curtains, a calendar on the wall, and some ribbon tied around wheat bunches by the window. Every once in a while the sound startles me, unnervingly similar to someone in the room. So, I guess I’m a little scared of the big fan too.
And, to be fair to the dog, I was not excited about looking under the bed after his obvious fright.
I encountered some-thing downtown, on my ‘day off’. A woman was walking towards me, muttering, and something just wasn’t right. I said “Hello” in passing, attempting to fit as much love as I could in a greeting. In response, she spit at me. Just, whatever saliva was in her mouth, like I would if I came across the wicked witch of the west without a bucket of water. And she kept walking, still muttering a stream of un-understandables. I’m not sure if any saliva made contact, but I was less concerned with my cleanliness than I was with trying to figure out what the heck just happened. I've worked with mentally ill persons before, and it didn't feel like that. This woman possessed anger, loathing, a ferocity like I would expect to see in, well, someone possessed. I’ve never really encountered that before, but it’s the only way I can describe the woman. Something was plain wrong, like hearing a rustling in the dark while you sleep, or having a usually fearless dog growling at something in your room. Unnerving.
I tried to measure out a response, but I had nothing. I thought maybe I’d try to buy her lunch and talk, offer prayer or something, but she was far off down the street by then. I waited, half expecting God to bring her back my way. But she kept walking, until I lost sight of her. I wandered into a store by habit, somewhat dazed. I’ve found that, when I’m in a new place, spending money seems a willing substitute for community. But, it leaves me hollow. So, usually I don’t spend, just explore, try to meet people. Church plant, really.
I meandered around town, until I happened upon the library. I had wanted to check it out. So, I walked in, explored a bit, moved towards the chairs by the magazines. And there she was, again, sitting by herself, muttering. But this time we were in an enclosed area, so I could smell her. She had obviously been on the street for a while.
The muttering was more unnerving than the spitting, and there’s no way I could claim this double meeting as chance. So I grabbed a “Nat-Geo” magazine and found me a seat a few chairs over and in a row perpendicular to hers. Unsure of what to do, and without feeling particularly led to say anything, I waited. Every time she would start muttering, I would pray under my breath. It felt like denaturing venom, like canceling out something. Like defense (contrast to offense).
Sitting in the library, my mind was racing with scenarios, a staple of the Drew brain.
Scenario a): I start a conversation. What do I say? I don’t have any sense of leading… ( Scenario ‘a’ immediately scrapped)
Scenario b): she says something loud enough for me to hear, and I need to respond. The conversation could get loud. How do I respond to onlookers? (‘b’ appears most likely, ergo I brace myself).
Scenario c): She attacks me. Runs at me, screaming. Yells. Screams curses or something at me.
I figure I probably pray, in the name of Jesus Christ, out loud, and command her to stop. But, what if she doesn’t? Do I stand my ground like with a mountain lion (thanks, D. Gardner)? Or pull a Bear Grylls vs. rhino, waiting until the last possible moment then diving left? Or ‘Coolhand Luke’ it, and, after she takes me down, stand up until she does it again (repeat ad nauseam)? How do I do crowd/damage control if someone goes violent?
Ok. I didn’t really think about animals, or movies. But I legitimately considered all of those outcomes. What if she attacked, and God didn’t come through? What if the name of Jesus Christ didn’t work? What would I say to the onlookers? Here we encounter some of my doubt, that of which I previously spoke. I truly felt threatened, and hated, yes, but it revealed a deeper brokenness in my heart. How such a small ripple can challenge me, oh sailor of Sunfish, and challenge my faith too. Praise God that my ‘anchor in the veil’ is Christ, for I am decidedly unstable. I am not as much a rock as I had hoped.
But then she left. She just up and went, muttering and all, albeit muttering less
Fun fact of the week: the locals say New Bern was once the Wicca capital of the United States. Perhaps my unnerving is merited.
I woke up twice that night, wide awake, and the only thing I could think to do was pray for the city, both times. I reckon God is leading me, but this is all new. I eventually fell asleep singing the chorus to ‘Desert Song’ (Brooke Fraser) over and over in my head. Great song.
I’m reading Bonhoeffer, “Life Together”. It’s on the fluid reading list, after “Celebration of Discipline” (Foster). I feel like I’m kicking over anthills and finding diamonds. ‘Celebration’ is phenomenal in that it walks you through ways of entering God’s presence practically. But ‘Life’, is genuinely worshipful. It speaks of the way that we have Christian community, through Christ (removing shame and ego) and in Christ (relying not on what others do to determine our behavior towards them, but instead relying on what God has done to us both, in Christ). Then it talks about how community is essential, because Christians are, to eachother, both living testimonies of the present and communal nature of a triune God, and witnesses to the Gospel for eachother. I was forced to worship as I read- a sign of a darn good book. Should be required reading (at least the first 30 pages) for camp staff. And all my friends. Read that book.
And so I pray for community. I have some, though little, and it’s growing, praise God. And the Spirit within me is all I theologically need, though it’s often harder to act that way when you don't feel it
Pray for me in that, and pray for spiritual discernment too, that I would know what I’m up against, how to respond, and for the faith so to do.
I am not a rock.
But with God, and with many of you as my true Christian community,
I am not an island either. And for that I’m grateful.
-drew
*a new train of thought. yes I did.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Hide or Go Seek: New Bern 1
This will be an unusual summer. I am interning with Mark Cooke, Pastor at an AMiA church plant in New Bern, NC. My job description: interning. That's all I've got so far.
I arrived yesterday. I'm living with their current worship guy, Joel, his wife, and their two year old. And their lap dog. Reminds me more of a jackal on the safari than a house dog, but sure is a rambunctious pup. And deceived. Buster honestly believes he's ferocious.
In truth, he has left a mark on me already. Well, really just on my rug. Good morning, New Bern.
I drove around downtown for a few hours today, stopping at antique shops, coffee shops, and Lowes to buy a nut for an ancient Raleigh three-speed I'm fixing up. It uses an epicyclic gearing system. Try throwing that into a conversation. Automatic win.
My leaving home and my arrival here slid well into my personal scripture-studies. In Ezra 3:11-13, the temple is being rebuilt, starting with a new foundation. There is singing, shouting praise, celebration. Then it says "But the older priests and Levites and family heads, who had seen the former temple, wept aloud when they saw the foundation of this temple being laid... No one could distinguish the sound of the shouts of joy from the sound of weeping, because the people made so much noise. And the sound was heard far away."
What an arresting description. Often I'll be moving through a passage, when something 'arrests' my faculties and forces me to 'dwell' on some word or phrase, even when I don't immediately see the relevance. I assume that's the Holy Spirit at work.
Ezra, weeping mixed with shouts. My life.
Too often I cry with the elders. It's hard to move on, even when it's progress. Hershey appeals to my soul when it advertises"change is bad", even though we all know air conditioning, penicillin, and epicyclic gears (automatic win) are incredible counter-examples. Too often I want to sit, even if it's in the ruins of a demolished temple. It hurts to see something new replace something old. Even when it's a good thing.
God, at least in my life, must be chased beyond fond reminiscences. He must not be left to the moment I first acknowledged my need for Him, in 6th grade, Mondo Weekend, with KB speaking in a circus tent. He will not be contained by the past, nor by the present. Nor by camp, as I must remind myself. He does not stay anywhere. He's moving, and so I am going to follow, if I can.
Many people have asked why I chose not to be at camp this summer. I chose to leave camp because I felt in my gut that God wanted me gone. Simple as that, in theory, but a painful decision, with much wrestling.
I do have some ideas as to why God sent me out, general truths that I see accomplished in my leaving. God may laugh with joyful, me-contradicting omniscience as I write these, but it's what i see so far:
1- God is in the business of multiplication. There is a dearth of leadership in the church, and so God wants to create more leaders, to spread His kingdom. If I get out of the way, new leaders are raised up. It's a good thing.
2-I am sinful. I seek admiration, even worship, for myself, from those to whom I minister. To be embarrassingly honest, much of my identity is tied up in what peers, particularly girls, think of me. God has gifted, anointed, blessed (pick your word) me in leading worship, a calling I will claim gladly. But I am quick to hold it up to my peers, that they might be in awe of it, the gift, and of me, instead of the giver. The creature, over the creation. You see, my soul is quite sick. And so, God is calling me to a place where my gifts pale in the presence of worship leaders far better than I, to lead in worship those who I am less interested in impressing. It's a good thing.
3-I am still more broken, in that I seek my steadiness in friends, family. I often believe my faith will be secure if I am close to my family. If I am with friends. If I am with those I trust, or agree with, then I will be secure, my salvation solidified, my path clear and well lit. Yet this too is sin, for it is based on two false principles. First, that my family and friends are perfect, and two, that I know perfection when I see it. In reality, my eyes are as blind as a mole, and my friends and family will fail. Christ, as it turns out, is the only solid rock, the only firm ground. I empathize with Peter, when he responds, to Jesus' asking if they want to leave, with "Lord, to whom else can we go?" There's a little resignation present in his voice. At least, in my voice, when I read it aloud. Me leaving means i can no longer lean on my incredible family, and my great friends (particularly at camp). But they simply are not it. Nothing is, save God. Where else can I go?
The old stuff was good. Is good. Youth retreats led me well. Camp, family and friends led me well. God has done undeniable work in me, through all these gifts. And they are probably not done. I may yet return to summer camp, or youth retreats. I am fairly confident that family and friends will remain integral parts of my calling. I owe Him all the gratitude I can find for them- yet He himself is something altogether different, and therefore, I think, must be known separately. And so, in pursuit of Him, I must count all things as loss.
I hear He's in New Bern for the summer.
Mark says the definition of a religious spirit is one that sees God in the past yet resists Him in the present, while he that has the Holy Spirit seeks first the kingdom, even today, forcibly overtaking it.
Religious spirit, or holy spirit. Old Temple weeping or new temple shouting. Hide or Go Seek.
Pick. And pray for me as I pick the latter.
More news/thoughts soon. I'll post my summer booklist as soon as it's finalized, for discussion and review. Heck, I'll post my job description too, if I ever get one ;). And maybe some pics.
-Drew
I arrived yesterday. I'm living with their current worship guy, Joel, his wife, and their two year old. And their lap dog. Reminds me more of a jackal on the safari than a house dog, but sure is a rambunctious pup. And deceived. Buster honestly believes he's ferocious.
In truth, he has left a mark on me already. Well, really just on my rug. Good morning, New Bern.
I drove around downtown for a few hours today, stopping at antique shops, coffee shops, and Lowes to buy a nut for an ancient Raleigh three-speed I'm fixing up. It uses an epicyclic gearing system. Try throwing that into a conversation. Automatic win.
My leaving home and my arrival here slid well into my personal scripture-studies. In Ezra 3:11-13, the temple is being rebuilt, starting with a new foundation. There is singing, shouting praise, celebration. Then it says "But the older priests and Levites and family heads, who had seen the former temple, wept aloud when they saw the foundation of this temple being laid... No one could distinguish the sound of the shouts of joy from the sound of weeping, because the people made so much noise. And the sound was heard far away."
What an arresting description. Often I'll be moving through a passage, when something 'arrests' my faculties and forces me to 'dwell' on some word or phrase, even when I don't immediately see the relevance. I assume that's the Holy Spirit at work.
Ezra, weeping mixed with shouts. My life.
Too often I cry with the elders. It's hard to move on, even when it's progress. Hershey appeals to my soul when it advertises"change is bad", even though we all know air conditioning, penicillin, and epicyclic gears (automatic win) are incredible counter-examples. Too often I want to sit, even if it's in the ruins of a demolished temple. It hurts to see something new replace something old. Even when it's a good thing.
God, at least in my life, must be chased beyond fond reminiscences. He must not be left to the moment I first acknowledged my need for Him, in 6th grade, Mondo Weekend, with KB speaking in a circus tent. He will not be contained by the past, nor by the present. Nor by camp, as I must remind myself. He does not stay anywhere. He's moving, and so I am going to follow, if I can.
Many people have asked why I chose not to be at camp this summer. I chose to leave camp because I felt in my gut that God wanted me gone. Simple as that, in theory, but a painful decision, with much wrestling.
I do have some ideas as to why God sent me out, general truths that I see accomplished in my leaving. God may laugh with joyful, me-contradicting omniscience as I write these, but it's what i see so far:
1- God is in the business of multiplication. There is a dearth of leadership in the church, and so God wants to create more leaders, to spread His kingdom. If I get out of the way, new leaders are raised up. It's a good thing.
2-I am sinful. I seek admiration, even worship, for myself, from those to whom I minister. To be embarrassingly honest, much of my identity is tied up in what peers, particularly girls, think of me. God has gifted, anointed, blessed (pick your word) me in leading worship, a calling I will claim gladly. But I am quick to hold it up to my peers, that they might be in awe of it, the gift, and of me, instead of the giver. The creature, over the creation. You see, my soul is quite sick. And so, God is calling me to a place where my gifts pale in the presence of worship leaders far better than I, to lead in worship those who I am less interested in impressing. It's a good thing.
3-I am still more broken, in that I seek my steadiness in friends, family. I often believe my faith will be secure if I am close to my family. If I am with friends. If I am with those I trust, or agree with, then I will be secure, my salvation solidified, my path clear and well lit. Yet this too is sin, for it is based on two false principles. First, that my family and friends are perfect, and two, that I know perfection when I see it. In reality, my eyes are as blind as a mole, and my friends and family will fail. Christ, as it turns out, is the only solid rock, the only firm ground. I empathize with Peter, when he responds, to Jesus' asking if they want to leave, with "Lord, to whom else can we go?" There's a little resignation present in his voice. At least, in my voice, when I read it aloud. Me leaving means i can no longer lean on my incredible family, and my great friends (particularly at camp). But they simply are not it. Nothing is, save God. Where else can I go?
The old stuff was good. Is good. Youth retreats led me well. Camp, family and friends led me well. God has done undeniable work in me, through all these gifts. And they are probably not done. I may yet return to summer camp, or youth retreats. I am fairly confident that family and friends will remain integral parts of my calling. I owe Him all the gratitude I can find for them- yet He himself is something altogether different, and therefore, I think, must be known separately. And so, in pursuit of Him, I must count all things as loss.
I hear He's in New Bern for the summer.
Mark says the definition of a religious spirit is one that sees God in the past yet resists Him in the present, while he that has the Holy Spirit seeks first the kingdom, even today, forcibly overtaking it.
Religious spirit, or holy spirit. Old Temple weeping or new temple shouting. Hide or Go Seek.
Pick. And pray for me as I pick the latter.
More news/thoughts soon. I'll post my summer booklist as soon as it's finalized, for discussion and review. Heck, I'll post my job description too, if I ever get one ;). And maybe some pics.
-Drew
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Post Africa Update 1: The Black Sheep (4/8/2010)
This one does not belong.
Why? Because i'm home. And I have found Myself.
I have returned, O I have returned. And it is a nice thing.
It is a nice thing to have brewed coffee. It's a nice thing to have a working police force. It's a nice thing to have some dear friends back. It's a nice thing to worship as a body. It's a nice thing to be done with Malarone. It's a nice thing to blend in, too.
And here i discover homogeny. Which is a word.
There is an interesting fact of life. Fish do not know they are wet. Until, that is, they study abroad for two months. Then they arrive home. And they know. They are wet.
And I do not mean from the rain. Pause the seriousness for an anecdote: we had major flooding in the last campsite. Our tent became a waterbed, literally floating up around us, until we evacuated and dragged our boat/tent to higher ground. Our rubber floor was waterproof, so the four inch river that begged entry from our front door was relatively unsuccessful.
But no, that is not why I am wet. I am wet because I am surrounded, by a culture that I do not see, yet flows everywhere that I feel at home.
In my eyes, everywhere else there exists a culture, a people, a unique thing, a different thing. But not here. Here is natural culture. Here are grounds from which to analyze the world.
In my eyes, here is culture. There is a culture, but here is culture. Do you see the difference? If you do, perhaps you know you're wet. If you don't, you're wet. Like me.
Example in point- I always knew there were a lot of white people at Furman. But now, it is a striking novelty. It is strange, new, unique and different. This is not the world as it is, anymore. It is an unforeseen culture, which yes i knew was present. But it is a funny thing to return to.
A friend on the trip mentioned this reality to me. They said that me, white, standing out in Africa was the same as a black student at Furman. And I felt it might be an exaggeration. At Furman, there is a common language, common food, common spaces, after all.
But, then, in Africa, there was a common language too [English]. And common food. And spaces.
I think my friend was more accurate than I at first recognized.
I think part of culture shock is the realization that to belong can sometimes be a choice, and sometimes it cannot. I did not have the choice to 'belong', to blend in, to be part of the many cultures. But on my return, i can choose whether or not to again belong to this culture, in which so much of my allegiance lies unbeknownst and unquestioned.
It is a strange chance to be born again, should I choose so to do. To be new to a culture I've always known, to embrace and be embraced by it.
To be free to just live, to just do it. To not think about the hard things, the big things. They say ignorance is bliss.
But it does not exist.
And, really, it's not that great.
And if you know me well, you know that's not what I want anyway. It's not something i chose, nor something i'm choosing now.
Culture shock is not as harrowing for me as I had expected. It is not so scary, as some thought it would be. I am stable. I am rejoicing in God, celebrating in His calling here. I am pursuing opportunities this summer to chase Him further. I am excited, and I am growing. Yet, I am stable. Not because I found myself in Africa. And not because I find myself here. On Christ I stand, and I'm born in Him alone. I am learning to jump the kraal and the tank, because neither is suitable for my calling. Nor is it suitable for yours.
I am not sure if this is the last email. You can ensure that it is your last by requesting to come off the list. I will again cry, but what with the workload of late i'm braced for tears anyhow ;)
In Africa, I am the black sheep. In America, I am the fish. In God, I am human. And I'll choose to find Myself in that.
-drew
Why? Because i'm home. And I have found Myself.
I have returned, O I have returned. And it is a nice thing.
It is a nice thing to have brewed coffee. It's a nice thing to have a working police force. It's a nice thing to have some dear friends back. It's a nice thing to worship as a body. It's a nice thing to be done with Malarone. It's a nice thing to blend in, too.
And here i discover homogeny. Which is a word.
There is an interesting fact of life. Fish do not know they are wet. Until, that is, they study abroad for two months. Then they arrive home. And they know. They are wet.
And I do not mean from the rain. Pause the seriousness for an anecdote: we had major flooding in the last campsite. Our tent became a waterbed, literally floating up around us, until we evacuated and dragged our boat/tent to higher ground. Our rubber floor was waterproof, so the four inch river that begged entry from our front door was relatively unsuccessful.
But no, that is not why I am wet. I am wet because I am surrounded, by a culture that I do not see, yet flows everywhere that I feel at home.
In my eyes, everywhere else there exists a culture, a people, a unique thing, a different thing. But not here. Here is natural culture. Here are grounds from which to analyze the world.
In my eyes, here is culture. There is a culture, but here is culture. Do you see the difference? If you do, perhaps you know you're wet. If you don't, you're wet. Like me.
Example in point- I always knew there were a lot of white people at Furman. But now, it is a striking novelty. It is strange, new, unique and different. This is not the world as it is, anymore. It is an unforeseen culture, which yes i knew was present. But it is a funny thing to return to.
A friend on the trip mentioned this reality to me. They said that me, white, standing out in Africa was the same as a black student at Furman. And I felt it might be an exaggeration. At Furman, there is a common language, common food, common spaces, after all.
But, then, in Africa, there was a common language too [English]. And common food. And spaces.
I think my friend was more accurate than I at first recognized.
I think part of culture shock is the realization that to belong can sometimes be a choice, and sometimes it cannot. I did not have the choice to 'belong', to blend in, to be part of the many cultures. But on my return, i can choose whether or not to again belong to this culture, in which so much of my allegiance lies unbeknownst and unquestioned.
It is a strange chance to be born again, should I choose so to do. To be new to a culture I've always known, to embrace and be embraced by it.
To be free to just live, to just do it. To not think about the hard things, the big things. They say ignorance is bliss.
But it does not exist.
And, really, it's not that great.
And if you know me well, you know that's not what I want anyway. It's not something i chose, nor something i'm choosing now.
Culture shock is not as harrowing for me as I had expected. It is not so scary, as some thought it would be. I am stable. I am rejoicing in God, celebrating in His calling here. I am pursuing opportunities this summer to chase Him further. I am excited, and I am growing. Yet, I am stable. Not because I found myself in Africa. And not because I find myself here. On Christ I stand, and I'm born in Him alone. I am learning to jump the kraal and the tank, because neither is suitable for my calling. Nor is it suitable for yours.
I am not sure if this is the last email. You can ensure that it is your last by requesting to come off the list. I will again cry, but what with the workload of late i'm braced for tears anyhow ;)
In Africa, I am the black sheep. In America, I am the fish. In God, I am human. And I'll choose to find Myself in that.
-drew
Africa Update 5: Fifth (3/15/2010)
No time for style. This is it, folks, this is it. Tomorrow we begin to move for the Border, beginning our treks through the bush of Botswana. I am amped beyond measure. We're getting to jump into Zimbabwe to see victoria falls, hanging with the San Bushmen, canoeing past hippos, and riding giraffes.
We probably will not ride giraffes. But a boy can dream.
Yesterday, brief rundown-
-breakfast run to supermarket. Ate an 'American Doughnut'. it was not an American Doughnut, but points for trying.
-sandboarding in the Namib, the dune-desert outside of Swakopmund. The riding was unreal, but the climbing back to the top of the dunes was very much real, and my calfs are feeling it. 80-90 meter climbs after each go- it'll wear you out. But the breeze was fantastic, and they gave us a DVD, so no worries.
-met with a church planter from Antioch Church in Waco, TX. He knows louie giglio, did ministiry in somalia, and is starting a pizza place. Wow. Ever heard of the 'business as ministry model' (BAM)? interesting idea. Making tents=making pizza. I get it.
-had some worship, prayer, and scriptures with some folks in the group. It was good. We prayed hard, sang a-capela, and read much. Some of our prayers have already been answered. He's a good father, you know.
Thoughts. Emotions are not meant to make our decisions. Most believe that. However, neither is pure reason. Both are from God, yet both are broken as a result of sin. Scripture says 'where is the scholar of our age?', talking of man's wisdom as incomplete. We are called to act in Christ, to discern what is best by the spirit. What does that look like, exactly? I think it has much to do with checking our emotions and our logic against scripture, against a revealed God who has spoken in His Word and still speaks to us. But it's easier said than done. We've had several debates, one in particular, where i have felt reason and emotion dominate. And these are good. But i don't think they're enough, though my heart runs to them long before i run to prayer. Really, i think they're easier. There's less risk involved. I can order my life on reason, and if God fails to come through, then i'm still standing on reason. I can order my life on my emotion, and if God does not act, i can claim betrayal. It all felt right, it was in love, in passion. I have an internal parachute.
What i've found, as i argue (usually from reason), is that I lose sight of a big God. In fact, my God becomes small. My faith is riddled with contingencies, much like my prayers. "Heal him, Father. But, if you don't, give him Your peace." or "Go, and sin no more. But if you're going to sin, at least be safe." Where is the power of the gospel? The confidence in the blood of Christ? We claim that when Jesus speaks the mountains throw themselves into the sea. Yet we define man as too stubborn a subject. I firmly believe that the gospel is it, the end-all, be-all of it-all. But if it's so, I must be willing to throw the rest away- even my feelings, even my educated reason. As Paul wrote, 'all else i consider waste when compared to knowing my God.' Again 'while i was with you, i resolved to know nothing except the gospel, that i would not speak in human wisdom but in the spirit's power'. 'What i want to do, i do not do, and what i do not want to do, I do.' neither my feelings nor my logic have room enough for my God. i pray for the faith to let go of both.
I also pray for 9 month old Micah, a child, soon to be the adopted nephew of a friend of mine. He has Hep B (medically incurable), and is being retested for HIV. He was first found positive, but the initial testing is often masked by the mother's state (HIV positive). If he has HIV as well as Hep B, the medicines conflict. Pray that the test will come back negative. We are praying for a miracle. We are praying for a Big God to act, in ways that go beyond reason. But i believe it's possible. Pray fervently, unceasing. The test will come while we are in the bush, so we won't know the results. It gives us all more time to pray in faith. So pray, fervently, unceasing. I let you know.
Pray for us to love eachother as well. With a broken washer, we stink, literally. I'mn out of shirts, and shorts. We need some grace, and some shiny white robes would be nice, too.
I had another email written, but time ran out and it got deleted. As i re-write it here, it's completely different. I pray that God is at work in it, and they you are encouraged, blessed, and that God uses me in this somehow.
i'm out of time, and i will see you all soon.
We probably will not ride giraffes. But a boy can dream.
Yesterday, brief rundown-
-breakfast run to supermarket. Ate an 'American Doughnut'. it was not an American Doughnut, but points for trying.
-sandboarding in the Namib, the dune-desert outside of Swakopmund. The riding was unreal, but the climbing back to the top of the dunes was very much real, and my calfs are feeling it. 80-90 meter climbs after each go- it'll wear you out. But the breeze was fantastic, and they gave us a DVD, so no worries.
-met with a church planter from Antioch Church in Waco, TX. He knows louie giglio, did ministiry in somalia, and is starting a pizza place. Wow. Ever heard of the 'business as ministry model' (BAM)? interesting idea. Making tents=making pizza. I get it.
-had some worship, prayer, and scriptures with some folks in the group. It was good. We prayed hard, sang a-capela, and read much. Some of our prayers have already been answered. He's a good father, you know.
Thoughts. Emotions are not meant to make our decisions. Most believe that. However, neither is pure reason. Both are from God, yet both are broken as a result of sin. Scripture says 'where is the scholar of our age?', talking of man's wisdom as incomplete. We are called to act in Christ, to discern what is best by the spirit. What does that look like, exactly? I think it has much to do with checking our emotions and our logic against scripture, against a revealed God who has spoken in His Word and still speaks to us. But it's easier said than done. We've had several debates, one in particular, where i have felt reason and emotion dominate. And these are good. But i don't think they're enough, though my heart runs to them long before i run to prayer. Really, i think they're easier. There's less risk involved. I can order my life on reason, and if God fails to come through, then i'm still standing on reason. I can order my life on my emotion, and if God does not act, i can claim betrayal. It all felt right, it was in love, in passion. I have an internal parachute.
What i've found, as i argue (usually from reason), is that I lose sight of a big God. In fact, my God becomes small. My faith is riddled with contingencies, much like my prayers. "Heal him, Father. But, if you don't, give him Your peace." or "Go, and sin no more. But if you're going to sin, at least be safe." Where is the power of the gospel? The confidence in the blood of Christ? We claim that when Jesus speaks the mountains throw themselves into the sea. Yet we define man as too stubborn a subject. I firmly believe that the gospel is it, the end-all, be-all of it-all. But if it's so, I must be willing to throw the rest away- even my feelings, even my educated reason. As Paul wrote, 'all else i consider waste when compared to knowing my God.' Again 'while i was with you, i resolved to know nothing except the gospel, that i would not speak in human wisdom but in the spirit's power'. 'What i want to do, i do not do, and what i do not want to do, I do.' neither my feelings nor my logic have room enough for my God. i pray for the faith to let go of both.
I also pray for 9 month old Micah, a child, soon to be the adopted nephew of a friend of mine. He has Hep B (medically incurable), and is being retested for HIV. He was first found positive, but the initial testing is often masked by the mother's state (HIV positive). If he has HIV as well as Hep B, the medicines conflict. Pray that the test will come back negative. We are praying for a miracle. We are praying for a Big God to act, in ways that go beyond reason. But i believe it's possible. Pray fervently, unceasing. The test will come while we are in the bush, so we won't know the results. It gives us all more time to pray in faith. So pray, fervently, unceasing. I let you know.
Pray for us to love eachother as well. With a broken washer, we stink, literally. I'mn out of shirts, and shorts. We need some grace, and some shiny white robes would be nice, too.
I had another email written, but time ran out and it got deleted. As i re-write it here, it's completely different. I pray that God is at work in it, and they you are encouraged, blessed, and that God uses me in this somehow.
i'm out of time, and i will see you all soon.
Africa Update 4: The Honourable Mention (3/7/2010)
there is no medal for fourth.
Welcome to the fourth and possibly final installment of Drew Miller's
Africa Study Abroad emails! It is possibly final because i am not sure if
we will have any internet, even phone communication once we reach the
final two weeks of our trip. It's the fourth because i have sent three
emails before it.
We will be spending the last two weeks in the bush in Botswana. In tents and
intense. Really. Our last tour guide told us that he always camps with a
big ole' maglite, so when (not if) the hyenas come sniffing at the tent
you can bash its nose through the wall and send it
packing. Yeah. We also are not allowed to leave the tents at night.
With our record of digestive issues, this will be a harrowing adventure,
to be sure.
Speaking of harrowing adventures:
i previously mentioned the hike: turns out there are more deaths by lightening in
that mountain range than anywhere else. i feel more foolish, yet more
superhero-esque than ever.
I was mugged in capetown. well, unsuccessfully. He said that he was a
cop, that i needed to put my hands on the wall, and that he was going to
search me. Broad daylight, mind you, and crowded, on the main street.
Confused, i said, "no, you're not a cop." And then it sank in.
Of course he's not a cop. I'm being mugged.
He was persistant, but, having begun my dispute, it seemed unwise to alter my stance.
He said 'get on the wall, i must search you,' and i said, 'no, show me a
badge'. After some (verbal) back and forth, he finally said 'oh, you just don't
understand, never mind, no worries.' and i brushed past him.
Immediately he progressed to the next white person on the sidewalk. I
crossed the street, to the nearest security guard. (They stand on most
street corners, watching for trouble,) I explained to him what happened,
and he asked a few questions.
Then he said 'sorry, that's not my block.
the other security guard must be over there somewhere. you should tell him.' Really really.
I had left Hannah K in the internet cafe from whence i had come. So, after
i lost sight of the mugger, i carefully placed myself between two
ridiculously buff fellows that were walking in her direction and scooted
back into the cafe. When hannah finished, i advised her to walk quick,
and upon exiting the building saw my old friend the cop-copier on the
opposite side of the street hastling yet another pedestrian. In broad
daylight. I told the guard again as we passed him on the way to the
guesthouse, and he seemed uncomfortable, but unmoved. TIA chap. (this is
Africa).
Yes, I was shaken up. In fact, I already was. Culturally, everyone walks slow here. Back home,
everyone walks fast. It makes me wary of any and everyone who walks slow,
and thus I am wary of any and everyone here. It is ridiculous, i know, but real in it's consequences. I was a little shaken up.
The strangest thing about the whole event was that he would have gotten more cash if he had just asked. I'm trying to live into Jesus's call to give to whoever asks, as Christ gave to me while i was still in rebellion against him. He didn't need to mug me at all, because I'm practicing grace with my money. Irony. I should have given him money anyway, but i was so surprised it didn't cross my mind until later.
I am currently in a homestay with Steven, living for the weekend with a Lutheran pastor and his wife, and a pastor in training. Wikipedia 'Nakamhela'. It's him. We had no idea that he was so prominent until we googled him tonight. He is a humble man, delicate in reproof and hospitable. We are given a plate of fruit every evening before bed. It's wonderful.
However, there is a goat head in the fridge. Note that it
is dead. I figured this truth was self-evident, but the intern pastor thought the distinction to be both humorous and necessary. Alas-
things are different here.
if you've ever read Cry, the Beloved Country, the Pastor with whom we are staying fits the main character very well. I watched him try to counsel his son, who has left the fold, so-to-speak. I have never seen such self control and yet such wisdom. He chose his words as Manet chose his colors. Each response was carefully weighed.
He reminds me that I have much growing to do in my faith. And to be honest, I can prove it.
I felt pretty good about myself, and how I had maintained my patience, how I had encouraged others towards Christ, how I had avoided gossip, and avoided complaining (for the most part). But this past week has been hard. I have gossipped. I have grown impatient, i have snapped, I have despised some of my friends. I have complained. And in my pride I still focussed on the pride of others, ignoring my own. Even as I think of the week, i try to justify my behaviors. I was tired. I was ill. Their pride was obvious, and disrespect cutting.
Yet i cannot defend my behavior. I have not loved, but hated, and I know that i chose the latter.
All to often i forget. But I need Christ. Because I am a sinner. And the rest need me to have Christ too, because my brokenness is contagious, and my sin is hurtful to my friends.
So I ask for your prayers as i try to return, in confession, to my God. As we sang in church this morning, I need thee every hour. God, if only I would remember that. Pray that my brokenness would be clear to me, that I would run ever quicker to the God who saves.
And pray that i would repent well, that i would love those that wear on me with an unconditional love. Pray that i would have wisdom to speak correction when it is truly needed, but also for humility, that I would not act in self-righteousness as I am prone to do. I want to bring glory to God by bringing worshippers to His throne, but i cannot do so in my power. The quicker I see my need for Christ, the quicker I can live and rejoice in Him, and the quicker i can live in His ability instead of mine.
Recenlty I have realized the limitations of one-way communication. I miss my discussions with many of you. I miss praying with some of you, eating with some of you, just chatting with some of you. While enjoying the trip, I''m counting down the days until our 16.5 hour flight back home
I miss almost all of you. However, in continued honesty I must say that I do not miss Renee and Ali, who are on this mailing list. But that is simply because they are both on the trip with me: the rest of you, I miss.
To leave you on a happy note, i was finally able to watch the homemade DVD that my parents sent me for my birthday. The soundtrack (Africa, of course) was phenomenal, and the character development superb. I have never seen so many baby pictures. Thank you for the reminder of my loving family.
Alas, i have meandered on too long again. I fear quantity has once more beaten quality. If it is so, don't read the mugger section. It's really not that crucial. May the God who draws me near draw you near too.
-Thabiso
-drew
ps-I'm trying to figure out housing for next fall, and i have a sore throat, so I covet your prayers for those as well.
Welcome to the fourth and possibly final installment of Drew Miller's
Africa Study Abroad emails! It is possibly final because i am not sure if
we will have any internet, even phone communication once we reach the
final two weeks of our trip. It's the fourth because i have sent three
emails before it.
We will be spending the last two weeks in the bush in Botswana. In tents and
intense. Really. Our last tour guide told us that he always camps with a
big ole' maglite, so when (not if) the hyenas come sniffing at the tent
you can bash its nose through the wall and send it
packing. Yeah. We also are not allowed to leave the tents at night.
With our record of digestive issues, this will be a harrowing adventure,
to be sure.
Speaking of harrowing adventures:
i previously mentioned the hike: turns out there are more deaths by lightening in
that mountain range than anywhere else. i feel more foolish, yet more
superhero-esque than ever.
I was mugged in capetown. well, unsuccessfully. He said that he was a
cop, that i needed to put my hands on the wall, and that he was going to
search me. Broad daylight, mind you, and crowded, on the main street.
Confused, i said, "no, you're not a cop." And then it sank in.
Of course he's not a cop. I'm being mugged.
He was persistant, but, having begun my dispute, it seemed unwise to alter my stance.
He said 'get on the wall, i must search you,' and i said, 'no, show me a
badge'. After some (verbal) back and forth, he finally said 'oh, you just don't
understand, never mind, no worries.' and i brushed past him.
Immediately he progressed to the next white person on the sidewalk. I
crossed the street, to the nearest security guard. (They stand on most
street corners, watching for trouble,) I explained to him what happened,
and he asked a few questions.
Then he said 'sorry, that's not my block.
the other security guard must be over there somewhere. you should tell him.' Really really.
I had left Hannah K in the internet cafe from whence i had come. So, after
i lost sight of the mugger, i carefully placed myself between two
ridiculously buff fellows that were walking in her direction and scooted
back into the cafe. When hannah finished, i advised her to walk quick,
and upon exiting the building saw my old friend the cop-copier on the
opposite side of the street hastling yet another pedestrian. In broad
daylight. I told the guard again as we passed him on the way to the
guesthouse, and he seemed uncomfortable, but unmoved. TIA chap. (this is
Africa).
Yes, I was shaken up. In fact, I already was. Culturally, everyone walks slow here. Back home,
everyone walks fast. It makes me wary of any and everyone who walks slow,
and thus I am wary of any and everyone here. It is ridiculous, i know, but real in it's consequences. I was a little shaken up.
The strangest thing about the whole event was that he would have gotten more cash if he had just asked. I'm trying to live into Jesus's call to give to whoever asks, as Christ gave to me while i was still in rebellion against him. He didn't need to mug me at all, because I'm practicing grace with my money. Irony. I should have given him money anyway, but i was so surprised it didn't cross my mind until later.
I am currently in a homestay with Steven, living for the weekend with a Lutheran pastor and his wife, and a pastor in training. Wikipedia 'Nakamhela'. It's him. We had no idea that he was so prominent until we googled him tonight. He is a humble man, delicate in reproof and hospitable. We are given a plate of fruit every evening before bed. It's wonderful.
However, there is a goat head in the fridge. Note that it
is dead. I figured this truth was self-evident, but the intern pastor thought the distinction to be both humorous and necessary. Alas-
things are different here.
if you've ever read Cry, the Beloved Country, the Pastor with whom we are staying fits the main character very well. I watched him try to counsel his son, who has left the fold, so-to-speak. I have never seen such self control and yet such wisdom. He chose his words as Manet chose his colors. Each response was carefully weighed.
He reminds me that I have much growing to do in my faith. And to be honest, I can prove it.
I felt pretty good about myself, and how I had maintained my patience, how I had encouraged others towards Christ, how I had avoided gossip, and avoided complaining (for the most part). But this past week has been hard. I have gossipped. I have grown impatient, i have snapped, I have despised some of my friends. I have complained. And in my pride I still focussed on the pride of others, ignoring my own. Even as I think of the week, i try to justify my behaviors. I was tired. I was ill. Their pride was obvious, and disrespect cutting.
Yet i cannot defend my behavior. I have not loved, but hated, and I know that i chose the latter.
All to often i forget. But I need Christ. Because I am a sinner. And the rest need me to have Christ too, because my brokenness is contagious, and my sin is hurtful to my friends.
So I ask for your prayers as i try to return, in confession, to my God. As we sang in church this morning, I need thee every hour. God, if only I would remember that. Pray that my brokenness would be clear to me, that I would run ever quicker to the God who saves.
And pray that i would repent well, that i would love those that wear on me with an unconditional love. Pray that i would have wisdom to speak correction when it is truly needed, but also for humility, that I would not act in self-righteousness as I am prone to do. I want to bring glory to God by bringing worshippers to His throne, but i cannot do so in my power. The quicker I see my need for Christ, the quicker I can live and rejoice in Him, and the quicker i can live in His ability instead of mine.
Recenlty I have realized the limitations of one-way communication. I miss my discussions with many of you. I miss praying with some of you, eating with some of you, just chatting with some of you. While enjoying the trip, I''m counting down the days until our 16.5 hour flight back home
I miss almost all of you. However, in continued honesty I must say that I do not miss Renee and Ali, who are on this mailing list. But that is simply because they are both on the trip with me: the rest of you, I miss.
To leave you on a happy note, i was finally able to watch the homemade DVD that my parents sent me for my birthday. The soundtrack (Africa, of course) was phenomenal, and the character development superb. I have never seen so many baby pictures. Thank you for the reminder of my loving family.
Alas, i have meandered on too long again. I fear quantity has once more beaten quality. If it is so, don't read the mugger section. It's really not that crucial. May the God who draws me near draw you near too.
-Thabiso
-drew
ps-I'm trying to figure out housing for next fall, and i have a sore throat, so I covet your prayers for those as well.
Africa Update 3: The Hairy Chest (originally sent 2/28/2010)
Some say that the third is the one with the treasure chest, but since the guys have decided to only trim, not shave facial hair while abroad, I thought an alternative third may be more appropriate.
Hello from Cape Town! This city is beautiful, clean, and well-to-do. It was even endearing until we visited the District 6 museum that documented the forced relocation of poverty-stricken Africans from the city to townships in the dry flats 20+ kilometers away. Suddenly the cleanliness is less comfortable- it came at an unnacceptable price.
A statement, and then a reason: I'm not drinking on this trip. This is
for several reasons:
i want to save the money,
i want to avoid the calories (the Africa 15 is
frighteningly possible),
but, most importantly, because i know myself.
I know that, given a Dr. Pepper before a meal, i will drink five glasses before the main course arrives, and another while i'm eating. I finish every drop of every beverage and every scrap on my plate, and so i don't think it is wise, for me, personally (that is, for me, personally), to introduce a substance that the same unchecked consumption of which could hurt me and my friends. My grandfather was an alcoholic, and while i never knew him, there is academic support for the possibility of a genetic predisposition to it. Thus, there is every reason for me not to drink.
BUT, I also believe that it is not wrong to drink (provided you're of
legal age). That is why i am GLAD, genuinely glad, that two good friends, among others, drink. I think, on this study abroad in particular, it is very important that Christians walk in the freedom of Christ. After all, it was not for a new law that we were set free.
We're nearing the halfway mark of the journeys, and tempers, including mine, are high. Funny how well we bury our pride, and yet how easily exhaustion exhumes it again. Recognizing the fact, instead of cage diving on my day off, I'm going to church. And sleeping. And reading. Part of me is laughing in self-ridicule at the decision: am i actually passing this up? Because i honestly don't believe that there is anything wrong with cage diving either, even if it means you miss church. Go for it. Once in a lifetime, so why not?
But I also know that i am tired. I know that the my usefulness to God as a tool of redemption, my quickness to forgive, and the effectiveness of my witness will all be the worse for it if i don't rest. And i know that being intentional with Jesus, which will be easier for me if i rest
tomorrow, is sweeter even than cage diving. For me, i will Sabbath, and I am genuinely excited about it.
Sidenote sermon here: when was the last time you heard someone yearning for Sabbath?
Not to set an oppressive law, as a strict God, but a sweet proof of his love, God has called me to not depend on my workmanship. My faith does not rest on how good I can be, how much I can accomplish. No, it all rests on God, and thus, I can rest on him, too.
check Isaiah 30:15
I think we underestimate the commands of God. I have, anyway. Take the command 'pray continuously'. immediately my thoughts run to "oh, that's hard. good luck with that." Yet the best moments of my life have been in prayer. I have not been praying well recently, another
reason to rest tomorrow. Not because i have to, but because i genuinely want to. I want to walk closer with my God, and to recognize his voice. Why would i not pray continuously? (and, if you're looking for ammunition, pray continually for me to pray continually. i could use the
support).
Saw the cape penguins today. They may have been the most boring creatures i've seen yet on this trip, but the wind was blowing sand so hard it was stinging, like rain when you stick your arm out the window going 90 on the connector (joke, mom, joke), and that was exciting enough for the penguins to remain motionless. We also went to cape point (http://www.travelblog.org/Photos/1784869 [not my blog, not my picture, but a good one nonetheless]) , where the wind literally blew hannah kuehnert over and made me lose my balance more than once.
And we met Bishop Peter Storey, a friend of Rimes and Hauerwaus. He talked of the preeminence of the gospel, even over tradition and culture (both African and European), and
discussed the need for intentional integration in the church, particularly during apartheid. An interesting lecture for a student at a fairly racially segregated church. I don't think the segregation back home is intentional, but i also don't think it's beneficial, nor does it reflect God's chosen kingdom. How Bishop Storey integrated, he didn't say. But it happened, and the
methodist church in South Africa is better for it. And i think God is glorified by it, too.
How have I written so much, yet left so much out?! Brief updates and highlights:
1-I miss home
2-i miss friends
3-i LOVE the mountains here
4-i was offered marijuana [weed, pot, mary jane, grass] (i learned the
names in South Carolina Public Schools, but was offered the good in Capetown)
5-I failed heroically at surfing Durban
6-i threatened a baboon with my Teva
7-i traversed a 24km hike at Giants Castle, an epic journey that included
- an asthma attack by a friend of mine. without an inhaler. 3 miles from civilization. we prayed, she got better, but wildly frightening.
- chasing Elond (big mythical-esque moose-esque things)
- listening to Baboons scream
- breaking out in hives on my legs
- losing the trail in the middle of a thunderstorm on the top of rolling mountains as lightening struck all aroud us and steven insisted that we spread out, so if one gets hit someone's left to attempt CPR
- ducktaping blisters
- filtering stream water through a bandana to drink
- pulling grass-spears out of my shoes before they broke the skin (though i missed a few)
All true, and it was wild.
Additionally, there have been good conversations, i met a begging man
named Thabiso, and had my clothes laundered. A good trip, thus far.
Pray for rest, pray for joy, pray for wisdom in conversation. I thank God, that in his limitless grace, He gave me friends like you and then let me share my joy in Him with you. Pray that i'd have the same joyful opportunity here.
Much love to all, and my prayers go with you and this email. And my gratitude. Thanks for reading!
-thabiso
-drew
Hello from Cape Town! This city is beautiful, clean, and well-to-do. It was even endearing until we visited the District 6 museum that documented the forced relocation of poverty-stricken Africans from the city to townships in the dry flats 20+ kilometers away. Suddenly the cleanliness is less comfortable- it came at an unnacceptable price.
A statement, and then a reason: I'm not drinking on this trip. This is
for several reasons:
i want to save the money,
i want to avoid the calories (the Africa 15 is
frighteningly possible),
but, most importantly, because i know myself.
I know that, given a Dr. Pepper before a meal, i will drink five glasses before the main course arrives, and another while i'm eating. I finish every drop of every beverage and every scrap on my plate, and so i don't think it is wise, for me, personally (that is, for me, personally), to introduce a substance that the same unchecked consumption of which could hurt me and my friends. My grandfather was an alcoholic, and while i never knew him, there is academic support for the possibility of a genetic predisposition to it. Thus, there is every reason for me not to drink.
BUT, I also believe that it is not wrong to drink (provided you're of
legal age). That is why i am GLAD, genuinely glad, that two good friends, among others, drink. I think, on this study abroad in particular, it is very important that Christians walk in the freedom of Christ. After all, it was not for a new law that we were set free.
We're nearing the halfway mark of the journeys, and tempers, including mine, are high. Funny how well we bury our pride, and yet how easily exhaustion exhumes it again. Recognizing the fact, instead of cage diving on my day off, I'm going to church. And sleeping. And reading. Part of me is laughing in self-ridicule at the decision: am i actually passing this up? Because i honestly don't believe that there is anything wrong with cage diving either, even if it means you miss church. Go for it. Once in a lifetime, so why not?
But I also know that i am tired. I know that the my usefulness to God as a tool of redemption, my quickness to forgive, and the effectiveness of my witness will all be the worse for it if i don't rest. And i know that being intentional with Jesus, which will be easier for me if i rest
tomorrow, is sweeter even than cage diving. For me, i will Sabbath, and I am genuinely excited about it.
Sidenote sermon here: when was the last time you heard someone yearning for Sabbath?
Not to set an oppressive law, as a strict God, but a sweet proof of his love, God has called me to not depend on my workmanship. My faith does not rest on how good I can be, how much I can accomplish. No, it all rests on God, and thus, I can rest on him, too.
check Isaiah 30:15
I think we underestimate the commands of God. I have, anyway. Take the command 'pray continuously'. immediately my thoughts run to "oh, that's hard. good luck with that." Yet the best moments of my life have been in prayer. I have not been praying well recently, another
reason to rest tomorrow. Not because i have to, but because i genuinely want to. I want to walk closer with my God, and to recognize his voice. Why would i not pray continuously? (and, if you're looking for ammunition, pray continually for me to pray continually. i could use the
support).
Saw the cape penguins today. They may have been the most boring creatures i've seen yet on this trip, but the wind was blowing sand so hard it was stinging, like rain when you stick your arm out the window going 90 on the connector (joke, mom, joke), and that was exciting enough for the penguins to remain motionless. We also went to cape point (http://www.travelblog.org/Photos/1784869 [not my blog, not my picture, but a good one nonetheless]) , where the wind literally blew hannah kuehnert over and made me lose my balance more than once.
And we met Bishop Peter Storey, a friend of Rimes and Hauerwaus. He talked of the preeminence of the gospel, even over tradition and culture (both African and European), and
discussed the need for intentional integration in the church, particularly during apartheid. An interesting lecture for a student at a fairly racially segregated church. I don't think the segregation back home is intentional, but i also don't think it's beneficial, nor does it reflect God's chosen kingdom. How Bishop Storey integrated, he didn't say. But it happened, and the
methodist church in South Africa is better for it. And i think God is glorified by it, too.
How have I written so much, yet left so much out?! Brief updates and highlights:
1-I miss home
2-i miss friends
3-i LOVE the mountains here
4-i was offered marijuana [weed, pot, mary jane, grass] (i learned the
names in South Carolina Public Schools, but was offered the good in Capetown)
5-I failed heroically at surfing Durban
6-i threatened a baboon with my Teva
7-i traversed a 24km hike at Giants Castle, an epic journey that included
- an asthma attack by a friend of mine. without an inhaler. 3 miles from civilization. we prayed, she got better, but wildly frightening.
- chasing Elond (big mythical-esque moose-esque things)
- listening to Baboons scream
- breaking out in hives on my legs
- losing the trail in the middle of a thunderstorm on the top of rolling mountains as lightening struck all aroud us and steven insisted that we spread out, so if one gets hit someone's left to attempt CPR
- ducktaping blisters
- filtering stream water through a bandana to drink
- pulling grass-spears out of my shoes before they broke the skin (though i missed a few)
All true, and it was wild.
Additionally, there have been good conversations, i met a begging man
named Thabiso, and had my clothes laundered. A good trip, thus far.
Pray for rest, pray for joy, pray for wisdom in conversation. I thank God, that in his limitless grace, He gave me friends like you and then let me share my joy in Him with you. Pray that i'd have the same joyful opportunity here.
Much love to all, and my prayers go with you and this email. And my gratitude. Thanks for reading!
-thabiso
-drew
Africa Update 2: Update DOS (2/8/2010)
And so it continues. I'll get right down to business. this will hopefully be both uplifting and explicit, and if it is overly so (in either direction) i ask your pardon.
I miss you all, particularly you, mom and dad. Staying in a strange home was both a sweet and bitter (though the food is much better), because i was able to enjoy a family schedule and company while realized both how much i have and miss. in fact, i was embarrassed of how much i have. Their house was nice, well built and rather large (one story, 6 rooms, 1.5 baths), without air conditioning but with cement floor and walls, so very cool even at midday. Afterr visiting Orange Farm, a township composed primarily of shacks of tin, this house was luxury. Yet, when i began to open my flipbook of pictures in my room, i could not stomach showing them what i have. He was firmly proud of his house, paid for with two teachers' (self-termed 'education practitioners', to add cultural weight) salaries, a house that replaced the small brick one that had been on the lot previously. Yet mine, for which i had done nothing, dwarfed his home. I could not bring myself to show my privilege. It was not guilt, i don't thin
k. And it certainly was not ingratitude- i wouldn't trade my home, and my childhood there, for the world. But there was something painful about the inequality, and i did not want to emphasize it.
The homestay was very interesting. We visited everyone and their mother, then the adopted mother-neighbor, the cousins, and several malls. Yes, there are malls in south africa, with KFC, McDonalds, fancy italian brands i can't pronounce but see in Charleston, and ice cream. The roads are full of cars, on the wrong side of the road and all. i've tried to get in the driver seat several times, only to have my homestay brothers laugh at me and call me back.
God has again proven himself faithful. If i recall correctly, i asked you all to pray for joy, for myself, and that i may show my joy to others. At my homestay in suburban Soweto (orlando east), my S. African family gave me a sesotho (pronounced seh-sootoo) name: Thabiso. It means: 'one who brings joy'. yup. sick.
Speaking of sick, Kasey's not feeling 100%, so if you're praying for me anyway, throw one up for her.
My stomach is acting decidedly bipolar, which is understandable (ever eaten pap? or ostrich? springbok?). i have already found myself in the Wantland-esque Dilemna of deciding which, between boxers or dollar bills , most aptly replaces toilet paper. Alas, i kept the bills.
The children here love camera's, and i'll tell you the cameras reciprocate. you can't be a bad photograper when you have children climbing on you, and on Nellie (Dr. Boucher to her face). If you want a challenge, check out Lombano Orphanage for HIV+ orphans in South Africa. I was deeply challenged by their work. This is the same orphanage at which (Auntie/Uncle) Shelley worked this summer. I had not realized the magnitude of her work. To care for children daily, children who may not live until next year, is a hard, hard calling. Yet she did, and others continue to do, now and everyday. In fact, they adopt the children, in their name, so that they can care for them permanently. A stunning, Christ centered, God-faithful and God-relying organization. I hope to visit them with Shelley again tomorrow, and i plan on asking about opportunities to serve there. Pray for that, if you will.
The landscape is phenomenal. THe red dirt contrasts the lush greenery, particularly green after the unusual amount of rain. We are far from the Vaal River, which is flooding out villages right now. I hear the homeland is having some precipitation of another form currently... Any in Greenville?
i ask your prayers, first and foremost, for conversation. I fear i may come off as too eager to talk of God, but He keeps coming up. I am not looking for ways to fit Him in my conversations- He simply flips the breaker and walks in. I don't often know where the convo will go, but when asked my opinion, i'm answering honestly. pray for humility and wisdom, that i would not speak foolishly but that the joy of God and his Gospel would shine naturally.
i was asked my my homestay dad (Tiboho) if i sing our national anthem from the heart. And so i spoke honestly, and said, not as much as i once did. He asked for an explanation, and so I told him that, yes, i was greatful, and i supported much of what we as the US, have done. But i also knew how much we have done poorly, and i explained that I could not pledge my alliagance first to my country, because it is pledged first to my God, and his glory. He was immediately shut off, not offended but uncomfortable. He asked if I was christian, and i said yes; very religious? yes. And so my homestay mom (matabo) said 'you could be like a pastor', and i said yes, maybe. She told me that i should come back and be the first white pastor of a S. African apostolic church (which we attended this morning- wow. ) i said maybe.
These are the hardest things. When my faith sets myself diametrically opposed to the culture i am surrounded by. And yet, there is joy, because this is what it feels like to belong to a different master. You understand the cutter when they say that the pain lets them feel reality. THe pain shows that there is something to fight for, and something to fight against. and that is Good. with a capital G.
this is not meant to be a downer- in fact, i am happy and joyful. we saw the cargo today, and where it will be finally kept. and God is redeeming my relationship with the program. it is beautiful, and i am glad to have taken part. and the friendships here are growing. and they feed us way more than is healthy. and we are staying at an ANGLICAN RETREAT CENTER called st. benedicts. that's cool, like, really.
My letter has become a book, and i am paying by the minute. So i will conclude with a sesotho phrase i was taught but can only remember in english: " two dogs can fight a lion". doesn't really apply, but when in rome!
-drew
I miss you all, particularly you, mom and dad. Staying in a strange home was both a sweet and bitter (though the food is much better), because i was able to enjoy a family schedule and company while realized both how much i have and miss. in fact, i was embarrassed of how much i have. Their house was nice, well built and rather large (one story, 6 rooms, 1.5 baths), without air conditioning but with cement floor and walls, so very cool even at midday. Afterr visiting Orange Farm, a township composed primarily of shacks of tin, this house was luxury. Yet, when i began to open my flipbook of pictures in my room, i could not stomach showing them what i have. He was firmly proud of his house, paid for with two teachers' (self-termed 'education practitioners', to add cultural weight) salaries, a house that replaced the small brick one that had been on the lot previously. Yet mine, for which i had done nothing, dwarfed his home. I could not bring myself to show my privilege. It was not guilt, i don't thin
k. And it certainly was not ingratitude- i wouldn't trade my home, and my childhood there, for the world. But there was something painful about the inequality, and i did not want to emphasize it.
The homestay was very interesting. We visited everyone and their mother, then the adopted mother-neighbor, the cousins, and several malls. Yes, there are malls in south africa, with KFC, McDonalds, fancy italian brands i can't pronounce but see in Charleston, and ice cream. The roads are full of cars, on the wrong side of the road and all. i've tried to get in the driver seat several times, only to have my homestay brothers laugh at me and call me back.
God has again proven himself faithful. If i recall correctly, i asked you all to pray for joy, for myself, and that i may show my joy to others. At my homestay in suburban Soweto (orlando east), my S. African family gave me a sesotho (pronounced seh-sootoo) name: Thabiso. It means: 'one who brings joy'. yup. sick.
Speaking of sick, Kasey's not feeling 100%, so if you're praying for me anyway, throw one up for her.
My stomach is acting decidedly bipolar, which is understandable (ever eaten pap? or ostrich? springbok?). i have already found myself in the Wantland-esque Dilemna of deciding which, between boxers or dollar bills , most aptly replaces toilet paper. Alas, i kept the bills.
The children here love camera's, and i'll tell you the cameras reciprocate. you can't be a bad photograper when you have children climbing on you, and on Nellie (Dr. Boucher to her face). If you want a challenge, check out Lombano Orphanage for HIV+ orphans in South Africa. I was deeply challenged by their work. This is the same orphanage at which (Auntie/Uncle) Shelley worked this summer. I had not realized the magnitude of her work. To care for children daily, children who may not live until next year, is a hard, hard calling. Yet she did, and others continue to do, now and everyday. In fact, they adopt the children, in their name, so that they can care for them permanently. A stunning, Christ centered, God-faithful and God-relying organization. I hope to visit them with Shelley again tomorrow, and i plan on asking about opportunities to serve there. Pray for that, if you will.
The landscape is phenomenal. THe red dirt contrasts the lush greenery, particularly green after the unusual amount of rain. We are far from the Vaal River, which is flooding out villages right now. I hear the homeland is having some precipitation of another form currently... Any in Greenville?
i ask your prayers, first and foremost, for conversation. I fear i may come off as too eager to talk of God, but He keeps coming up. I am not looking for ways to fit Him in my conversations- He simply flips the breaker and walks in. I don't often know where the convo will go, but when asked my opinion, i'm answering honestly. pray for humility and wisdom, that i would not speak foolishly but that the joy of God and his Gospel would shine naturally.
i was asked my my homestay dad (Tiboho) if i sing our national anthem from the heart. And so i spoke honestly, and said, not as much as i once did. He asked for an explanation, and so I told him that, yes, i was greatful, and i supported much of what we as the US, have done. But i also knew how much we have done poorly, and i explained that I could not pledge my alliagance first to my country, because it is pledged first to my God, and his glory. He was immediately shut off, not offended but uncomfortable. He asked if I was christian, and i said yes; very religious? yes. And so my homestay mom (matabo) said 'you could be like a pastor', and i said yes, maybe. She told me that i should come back and be the first white pastor of a S. African apostolic church (which we attended this morning- wow. ) i said maybe.
These are the hardest things. When my faith sets myself diametrically opposed to the culture i am surrounded by. And yet, there is joy, because this is what it feels like to belong to a different master. You understand the cutter when they say that the pain lets them feel reality. THe pain shows that there is something to fight for, and something to fight against. and that is Good. with a capital G.
this is not meant to be a downer- in fact, i am happy and joyful. we saw the cargo today, and where it will be finally kept. and God is redeeming my relationship with the program. it is beautiful, and i am glad to have taken part. and the friendships here are growing. and they feed us way more than is healthy. and we are staying at an ANGLICAN RETREAT CENTER called st. benedicts. that's cool, like, really.
My letter has become a book, and i am paying by the minute. So i will conclude with a sesotho phrase i was taught but can only remember in english: " two dogs can fight a lion". doesn't really apply, but when in rome!
-drew
Africa Update 1: And so it begins... (2/1/2010)
And so it begins. Today I leave what I know and journey to what I do not, with joy and anxiety, confidence and ignorance. We'll see where I am taken.
And so also begins a series of update messages about my travels. I will be sending out emails when I find a spare moment and a computer with internet. This will be done instead of a blog, because apparently FirstClass take less time to load on African computers. Who knew? (actually, Ali did, but she won't stop blogging even if she never gets another hit from Latin America).
And, guess what? You are on the list! I hope you don't mind. You made it on the list if
1) you told me to put your name on it
2) you demonstrated/feigned interest
3) I want you to know
or
4) you are a blood relative and thus i am obligated to prove that i am, in fact, alive
though more than one may apply to you.
If you feel this is 'not your thing'- do not fear! I'll delete you in a heartbeat (and more than likely cry later). But you have to let me know, lest I continue to fill your trash can, unawares.
Being on my personal email update list, you will therefore be privy to information otherwise unknown (you are welcome to share it. henceforth, my Africa-mass-emails are public domain!).
Some of the contents of these emails will certainly be ridiculous, humorous, insightful, intelligent, and witty.
However I will also write of my own thoughts. And, while less impressive, such are the subject of this, 'beginning of the journey' email.
My thoughts will naturally revolve around what I am thinking about. Therefore, much will concern what i am studying, seeing, and discussing with my classmates.
These will include Psychology of Children in Poverty, History, Sociology of Epidemics, and Religions of Africa, amongst other things.
Additionally there are several other 'preoccupations' that, I think, in fairness, I must warn you about.
First and foremost, there is my preoccupation with God. As I find myself called by Him to worship Him, my ultimate end on this trip and in life is to draw near to Him while singing His praises, because His way is light, truth, and freedom, and His glory is my joy. If you find yourself with different ambitions entirely, then I hope these emails will allow you to better understand me, for this preoccupation, while not always attained, is my self-chosen (or perhaps more accurately 'God-given') purpose.
Second, and sadly often preceeding the first, is my preoccupation with myself. Thus you may hear my pains and groans, my complaints, my misperceptions, and my brokeness. If you're the praying type, that would prove a great fuel for your devotion. If you are not, they may at least provide evidence that, left to my own (de)vices, I am no woefully inadequate.
Third, I like animals very much, and so you may hear more than you'd like of lions, fleas, and all in between.
I will be taking many pictures. Unfortunately, I will not be able to send them back to you. You will have to imagine the scenery, relying only on my descriptions. For help with your imagination, I recommend the Internet. There are many pictures there.
And so, as i leave, I am thinking of these things. And i am thinking of you (collectively, some individually), ergo this email. I hope it finds you well, and i hope it sparks your interest in hearing of my journeys. It is going to be one heck of a ride.
I have attached a picture of myself, to aid you in your remembrance. I look forward to our reunion, come Easter weekend, and I hope i will have many more stories to tell than I have space to share on these few emails. In the meantime, and in all seriousness, I covet your prayers, particularly towards the increase of my joy and of my humility, and towards a closer walk with my God. This is my primary desire, but i will not snub prayers for safety.
And I will be praying for you as well, as my readers and as my friends, that the same would be given you. In one way or another, we're all journeying. Mine simply involves a plane today and lions tomorrow, while yours is much less certain. There are great adventures and great community to be had at home, and I want to hear of them both.
Philippians 1:3-11
starting at verse 9
And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and deth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best, and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ- to the glory and praise of God.
(biblegateway the rest of it)
And so it is, and so I say goodbye, fare thee well, and mother, do not cry too much.
yours
-drew
and so it begins...
And so also begins a series of update messages about my travels. I will be sending out emails when I find a spare moment and a computer with internet. This will be done instead of a blog, because apparently FirstClass take less time to load on African computers. Who knew? (actually, Ali did, but she won't stop blogging even if she never gets another hit from Latin America).
And, guess what? You are on the list! I hope you don't mind. You made it on the list if
1) you told me to put your name on it
2) you demonstrated/feigned interest
3) I want you to know
or
4) you are a blood relative and thus i am obligated to prove that i am, in fact, alive
though more than one may apply to you.
If you feel this is 'not your thing'- do not fear! I'll delete you in a heartbeat (and more than likely cry later). But you have to let me know, lest I continue to fill your trash can, unawares.
Being on my personal email update list, you will therefore be privy to information otherwise unknown (you are welcome to share it. henceforth, my Africa-mass-emails are public domain!).
Some of the contents of these emails will certainly be ridiculous, humorous, insightful, intelligent, and witty.
However I will also write of my own thoughts. And, while less impressive, such are the subject of this, 'beginning of the journey' email.
My thoughts will naturally revolve around what I am thinking about. Therefore, much will concern what i am studying, seeing, and discussing with my classmates.
These will include Psychology of Children in Poverty, History, Sociology of Epidemics, and Religions of Africa, amongst other things.
Additionally there are several other 'preoccupations' that, I think, in fairness, I must warn you about.
First and foremost, there is my preoccupation with God. As I find myself called by Him to worship Him, my ultimate end on this trip and in life is to draw near to Him while singing His praises, because His way is light, truth, and freedom, and His glory is my joy. If you find yourself with different ambitions entirely, then I hope these emails will allow you to better understand me, for this preoccupation, while not always attained, is my self-chosen (or perhaps more accurately 'God-given') purpose.
Second, and sadly often preceeding the first, is my preoccupation with myself. Thus you may hear my pains and groans, my complaints, my misperceptions, and my brokeness. If you're the praying type, that would prove a great fuel for your devotion. If you are not, they may at least provide evidence that, left to my own (de)vices, I am no woefully inadequate.
Third, I like animals very much, and so you may hear more than you'd like of lions, fleas, and all in between.
I will be taking many pictures. Unfortunately, I will not be able to send them back to you. You will have to imagine the scenery, relying only on my descriptions. For help with your imagination, I recommend the Internet. There are many pictures there.
And so, as i leave, I am thinking of these things. And i am thinking of you (collectively, some individually), ergo this email. I hope it finds you well, and i hope it sparks your interest in hearing of my journeys. It is going to be one heck of a ride.
I have attached a picture of myself, to aid you in your remembrance. I look forward to our reunion, come Easter weekend, and I hope i will have many more stories to tell than I have space to share on these few emails. In the meantime, and in all seriousness, I covet your prayers, particularly towards the increase of my joy and of my humility, and towards a closer walk with my God. This is my primary desire, but i will not snub prayers for safety.
And I will be praying for you as well, as my readers and as my friends, that the same would be given you. In one way or another, we're all journeying. Mine simply involves a plane today and lions tomorrow, while yours is much less certain. There are great adventures and great community to be had at home, and I want to hear of them both.
Philippians 1:3-11
starting at verse 9
And this is my prayer: that your love may abound more and more in knowledge and deth of insight, so that you may be able to discern what is best, and may be pure and blameless until the day of Christ, filled with the fruit of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ- to the glory and praise of God.
(biblegateway the rest of it)
And so it is, and so I say goodbye, fare thee well, and mother, do not cry too much.
yours
-drew
and so it begins...
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