Gospel for India, Mexican Kisses, and Belgian Waffles

What could possibly add more value to 30 hours of traveling, a 12 hour layover, and near exhaustion trying to get home to Africa? Belgian waffles and a kiss from a cute Mexican girl.

It was not long into the voyage that Luke and I made our first mistake. We had set a plan and were to meet at Meredith's gate in the International Terminal at Dulles Airport. With all three planes coming in at the same time, converging on the one location, conceivably, would be simple. I certainly was not thinking that after waiting at the Frankfurt connection for a half hour. Around 4:30, Luke came waltzing by. We waited together another 20 minutes before finding that her flight had been delayed until 5:01.

With our stomachs leading the way, we found a subway with prime position to eat while watching for Meredith. When she had still not passed by 5:20 we became more curious. Back at the empty terminal for Meredith's connection, we asked the man if she had made the flight. His response? She had sprinted through a minute before we had arrived; we just missed her. That was sad, but not enough to ruin out trip. We will see her in Madrid during our March visa run.

Soon enough we were on our plane to go across the pond. Luke and I were originally separated by 30 rows, but after four or five switches we sat together in the middle of the plane next to an Indian graduate student attending Penn State. Rohan and I quickly found that we had much in common. The conversation had not gathered much steam before the Holy Spirit prompted me to share my testimony. Amazingly, my new friend was very open to the truth as revealed by my personal experience. We had a very enjoyable discussion concerning truth and our personal beliefs. I had a number of opportunities to share truth which spurred questions for him. Before he left to sit a few rows away where his long legs could stretch out, we exchanged emails with the intention of connecting again later.

The sleepless seven hour flight provided the platform by which Luke and I could reconnect after our two week hiatus from fellowship. We talked, read, and tried to sleep. Arriving in Brussels, Belgium with eyes heavy we began to plan out our adventure. We quickly worked through the logistics to store our extra carry-on luggage and find the bus into Brussels (Or, Luxembourg as some call it). Unfortunately, our valiant adventure into the unknown city of Brussels quickly proved anticlimactic. The European quarter where our bus line ended was quaint and devoid of interesting shops or restaurants. We found that the best use of our Euros to get there was to sit on the bus and nap for the next hour and a half before picking up our luggage and heading to the gate that we found would not open for another four hours. We were stuck outside the airport with nowhere to go.

The train had been recommended to us, but it was more expensive and we had already paid for the bus tickets. With both of us lackadaisical and indecisive, a reinstatement of executive decision was the necessary catalyst to set us off on our next adventure. Basically, we ended up just telling each other to suck it up and go. A few obstacles now stood between us and a second chance at Belgian waffles. The first of which required Luke to sweet talk the middle-aged Belgian woman whom we had just 15 minutes ago paid for storing our extra luggage. He was impeccable, it was the performance of his Belgian career. The next obstacle was solving the puzzle of the train situation, in the language Nederlands. I quickly made friends with Robin, the English-speaking ticket guy at the train station. Not only did he save us a few Euros on our tickets, he pointed us in the right direction to get on our train.

Waiting for the train, I met a Belgian-, French-, and Spanish-speaking Italian girl. I quickly struck up conversation as she was more than willing to help me find my way to the correct train and on to find my Belgian waffles. While I talked to her, Luke was making headway in conversation with an older Mexican couple from Guadalajara. As the train was boarded we both lost contact with our respective friends and found ourselves sitting alone, half-asleep, staring blankly out the window of the train.

"Hola, como estas?" Back in reality, two Mexican girls, in their early twenties, stood before us staring at Luke, mostly. Luke, like a champ, carried a pretty impressive Spanish conversation with the two girls who were obviously enamored with his boyish charm and man-of-mystery air. As he wrote down his email address, almost as an afterthought, they asked for mine as well. The next barrier they broke with me first before moving on to my studly partner. As they left, the first, then the second, hugged me and followed with a kiss on the cheek. When they left, my head swelled slightly before Luke explained that this was the custom for saying goodbye in Guadalajara. In the end, there is no sharp disagreement amongst our partnership. I am certain of their obvious inclination to Luke, while he is fairly certain of their unending love for me. The truth we may never know.

As the train pulled into Central Station we quickly rescinded our comments concerning how quaint and uneventful Brussels seemed. We had entered a whole new Brussels full of people, restaurants, shops, and Christmas lights. It was not long before we found the ideal location to satiate our Belgian waffle appetite. Seated on the crowded second floor of a local restaurant we enjoyed our Belgian waffles that boasted little more than a name, but they hit the spot. The hot chocolate syrup that had covered our waffles proved to give enough of a sugar rush to conclude our stay in Brussels with the subsequent crash negating all memory of a three hour plane ride to Africa.

Our Belgian adventure had come to an end. An adventure it was, but tiny in scale to that which it precluded...

Back To The Future

The city far behind, one last peak was now visible through the break in trees ahead. I pressed on knowing that my legs would soon receive rest while I waited for the others. Only a few days ago had this noon rendezvous been set and, for once, I was early. Soon enough we would be together again with plenty of time to relax and eat lunch before the shadows crept away into afternoon.

Stepping out from the tree line, I was stunned by the hot African sun. Already warm from the trek, I unzipped my outer coat to release the extra heat. Just a few hundred feet away, I could see where may next break would be. Yet, this welcomed rest would come hand in hand with the knowledge that the cold did not linger far behind. At this altitude the sun's warmth would prove to be the only solace from the cold, mountain air. And only that morning had I left home wearing a t-shirt. Thankfully, I had possessed enough foresight to pack warm clothes as well. Four months into the job, the air was becoming warmer with each trip into the mountains. Summer would soon arrive to lighten our packs from the burden of cold weather gear.

Laying down my pack, I leaned against the bulky main sack to enjoy an astonishing view below. Even after making this trip countless times, the valley had still not lost its luster. Given the opportunity, I could sit for hours admiring the creative work of these rolling hills and sounds of far off sheep as they grazed in solitude. Opposite me sat another range hidden in a rain cloud of mystery. All morning rain had threatened from the south, but had not yet overtaken the sun. Enshallah. The Lord wills it. A little rain would not spoil my day or my joy. If there was one lesson I could learn living with Muslims for the past 15 months, it would be the reality of God's sovereignty and its implications for my life and attitude. This is an area of agreement for Christians and Muslims. Jesus prayed in this way, "Abba, Father. Take this cup from Me. All things are possible for You. Yet not My will, but Your will be done."

Soon enough, they would emerge from the trees below. I had not seen my partner, Luke, since leaving for the visa run. A break was good and Barcelona beautiful, but there was much work to do before leaving for our long-awaited vacation to Madagascar. When we left the apartment last week, I set off for Spain while Luke made the trek to Achmed's home.

More than ready to see both Luke and Achmed, I squirmed impatiently as the sun passed from its direct position overhead and began to weave new shadows. Closer than brothers these two had become to me. Luke and I often stayed with Achmed. In fact, this was how the relationship began. That first trip into the mountains had been miserable. The December cold, unbearable. The snow, nearly impassable. Those first villagers, impossible. We had been faithful to spread Gospel seeds broadly while seeking our first man of peace. But the rejection mounted with each new village we entered. After three days of moving from village to village, the Lord led us to Achmed.

Achmed, our first man of peace, after hearing the Message, insisted we stay the night. Then the next. And the next. It was a week of intense Bible study and discipleship. We left Achmed still a seeker, but so very close to relationship with Jesus. We took three days to trek home to rest, make contact with our prayer partners, and submit our regular paperwork before making a beeline for Achmed's small home. This second long, snowy trek we took with joy knowing that the Lord was moving.

Seeing from a distance, Achmed ran to meet us. He immediately sat us down, in the snow, and shared everything. He was elated with joy and more than once we had to ask him to slow down his Arabic just so we could understand. God had used a vision, he explained. Jesus came to him in a dream and simply said, "You can trust them." In two days he had read all the way through his new Bible. He truly believed and wanted to follow in the footsteps of Paul. And Silas. And Timothy. His excitement would prove to translate into action. Achmed began joining us as we traveled to neighboring villages seeking more men of peace.

Soon after, we met Muhammed and Aimen. Just as we often stayed with them, these three would come to the city and spend time studying and praying with us in the apartment. With the help of these three, we had been to every village on this range multiple times. Many new seekers had been identified and three small groups had been started. To this point, Achmed, Muhammed, and Aimen were the only known believers in the area, but the five of us often spent time together praying for God to sweep across the mountain like wildfire.

Faintly, I heard voices. Sure enough, coming up through the woods were Luke and Achmed, and Muhammed had joined them. Today we were moving on to a new work. A new range. A new challenge. The journey ahead was long, but we had determined long ago that every moment of the journey would be to the glory of God. Besides, there was much to talk about. God had been moving while I was gone...




I often find it hard to understand what I can not see, hear, or touch. For you who are faithfully praying, I understand how difficult it is to not fully fathom how best to pray. This story has not yet happened, but your prayers can make it a reality. With day one approaching, December 29th, this is the vision for which Luke and I pray. Please join us as we pray for God to move and to honor the faithfulness of His people whom He has redeemed.

Reconciliation: a Father and son, and father, story

Breathing heavily, I had hit the peak of my sprint. Though tired, my form remained intact for the final half-mile stretch. Judging by the immeasurable significance this day held for me, the energy boost almost seemed to be by divine appointment. As I rounded the final corner, I could see her. I do not often get worked up over a woman, but she was beautiful. And she was waiting for me.

Drive with the knees. Kick out the stride. Chest out, back straight. Arms loose. Digging down deep, I pushed through the pain and refused to let up all the way through to the end, number 33. Exhausted, I bent over for a brief moment before looking up to receive her inquiring eyes. "Don't close the gate!, please," I managed with a hoarse urgency. Standing there, pulling for breath, I allowed my guitar and bookbag to fall to the hard tile floor of the airport terminal...

17 minutes earlier, I sat comfortably at my gate waiting for the next flight to Cleveland. While engrossed in a thought-provoking book by Dr. Charles Fielding which called for preachers to heal and healers to preach, I had not noticed another afternoon slip away. Once more my mind began racing as I put down the book to rest my eyes. Uncertainty. Joy. Fear. Anticipation. I could not escape the emotional whirlwind as I retraced my steps through the last 16 years...

As a child, sin and divorce had separated me from my earthly father and created a chasm between us for the majority of my life. Malice, slander, and deceit had driven the gulf even deeper. After the divorce, my mother had no intention of allowing him to be a real influence in my life. He fought hard and never gave up on me, but it would be many more years before the truth was revealed. For a child, it is difficult, if not impossible, to love and trust a father who seems so far away.

All too often, the world sends wolves dressed as sheep, and even shepherds, to depict their own stories as truth. For me, the world used my mother. A little lie here. Some small gossip there. Twist these facts just a smidge. This is the way of the world. The world infects, strips away innocence, and forces a faulty paradigm of thinking on fledgling minds. At work are countless cohorts demanding the right to be the sole proprietor of truth for you and me.

This way of life led to anger and bitterness. At the right time, my relationship with the heavenly Father was reconciled. Yet, even with this restored relationship, the struggle remained. All too often, as a young believer, I ran back to the flesh and a prison of anger and bitterness that awaited me. My mind had been infiltrated. I had been given the template of how to think and, therefore, understood my father to be the man whom my mother had continually portrayed to me as a child. The world was so often winning this battle for my mind.

College served as my emancipation; it was here that I was freed from my two masters, anger and bitterness. I was finally enjoying true discipleship and living amongst those whom I knew would challenge and teach me. Then, by stealth, the world crept in once more to influence my impressionable mind. I was learning to let go of anger and bitterness, but the world convinced me that it was easier to exchange these for a new master, indifference. The family that raised me was a worldly trainwreck; I knew this from experience. But, on the other hand, my dad and his family were probably just as bad. As a college student, this is how I lived. Indifference toward the concept of family. Indifference toward the pain I denied. Indifference toward the unknown truth that would probably never come to light.

Reconciliation, like most things in life, is not completed instantly. What is most important in life takes time. By the gracious choice of the Father, the drawing of the Spirit, and the blood of Jesus Christ, I am fully reconciled at the end. As I walk with my Father through life, this process continues to take time and require endurance. With each passing year, the desire for my Father is strengthened as He continues to transform my heart and guide my steps. Reconciling the most important relationship will be a lifelong process, but it is well worth the wait to fully know the Father and His love for me. This life is easily sacrificed in order to be made complete in Christ.

Over the years, I often wondered what reconciliation with my earthly father would look like. I eventually realized that the continual process of being reconciled with my heavenly Father (also known as sanctification) had set a blueprint for me to follow with my earthly father. The process would require true love that can not be known but through Jesus. One day, the Spirit laid on my heart to write a letter. I pondered, for over a year, what words might be contained inside that envelope addressed to my father. The truth of who he was remained unknown to me. But his needs were no different than the needs of any other man who has walked the earth. Just as I desired to be reconciled to my father, I knew he needed to be reconciled to his Father.

Finally, I wrote it. And mailed it one day in March. He should know who I was. He should know where I had been. He should know my intentions. And most importantly, He should know of my Father with whom I had long been reconciled.

The blueprint was completely adequate, as well as the Cornerstone on whom it had been founded. The love of Jesus that had changed my life had also changed my father's life. By the grace of God, our next meeting would be as two new creations. As the process of being reconciled with my heavenly Father continues, the process of being reconciled to my earthly father now begins.

At precisely 3:33 my curiousity was peaked. It seemed odd that I was sitting in a terminal rather than on a plane at that point. I approached the desk and asked when we would begin to board for the 3:50 flight. The news was grim. The correct gate for the connection to Cleveland was not gate C26. In fact, I was scheduled to be at gate F33. And from where I stood, gate F33 was only accessible by taking a tram to the opposite side of the airport. Trusting my Father for the next steps, I sprinted off to meet my father.

Job Number One

As I find myself at the end of a time of training to live overseas, my mind is swirling in a flurry of emotion, theology, practical insights, and relationships for which I now long. At present, I see the whole two months through a lens tainted gray by the many goodbyes that followed. The impact these friends had on my life remains, but they are all dispersed throughout the continental U.S. preparing for a new frontier. These past few days have been difficult as I process through my time at "the farm". But rather than focus on the grief of breaking away and planting a whole new set of roots (knowing, of course, that they too will be pulled up in two weeks), I choose, rather, to focus on Elbert.

"Whooooaaa!" Let's talk about Elbert. One of the most influential believers to this point in my life, my goal is to give you a glimpse into how God used him to change my life. Furthermore, through this series, I can shore up in my own heart these teachings so as to not lose sight of what is most important over the next few years.

"And He appointed twelve, so that they would be with Him and that He could send them out to preach." -Mark 3:14

I have a very important job to accomplish over the next two years. As an apostle, it is so easy to become sidetracked and to forget or neglect this all-important primary task. Let's begin by defining what job number one is not:

1. Language learning... learning the heart language of the "Jeb" people is pivotal in my attempts to present hope and new life. But to move straight to language learning would be to take job number one for granted. Job number one is so important that it cannot be simply relegated to the status of presupposition.
   
2. Evangelism is essential if people are going to hear the name of Christ, but not my first responsibility.
   
3. Prayer touches on it, but is not all-encompassing of what job number one is.
   
4. Church planting remains the end goal, but is not the focal point of my life.

If I do nothing else the next two years, job number one is to be with Jesus. And the irony of this statement is that I will do more over the next two years simply being with Jesus than by filling my schedule with ministry.

Job number one is to be with Jesus. Another way Biblical writers say this is to use the verb "abide". Recently I have been pondering what it truly means to abide. Jesus says, "Abide in Me, and I in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself unless it abides in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in Me." (John 15:4)

John gives some more insights into this life of abiding in Christ in his letter, I John.

"If we say that we have fellowship with Him and yet walk in the darkness, we lie and do not practice the truth; but if we walk in the Light as He Himself is in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin."
-I John 1:6-7

To abide in Jesus is to walk in the Light. And why? Because He is in the Light, therefore that is where we too belong. This sums up most of John's abiding talk throughout the rest of the book. Walking in the light is equivalent to pleasing Him and keeping His commandments. (I John 3:22,24) Walking in the light is the fruit of being filled with the Spirit. (I John 4:13) Walking in the Light produces fellowship with God and men. This is intentionally reminiscent of the greatest two commands Jesus gave. He told us we are to love God with everything we have and to love others.

"The one who loves his brother abides in the Light and there is no cause for stumbling in him." -I John 2:10

Speaking of love for our brothers, John tells us that this also is part of abiding in Jesus. We know that love surpasses all else, including faith and hope. Because love comes from God (I John 4:7), to love is to take part in who He is, therefore causing one to abide in Him.

"As for you, let that abide in you which you heard from the beginning. If what you heard from the beginning abides in you, you also will abide in the Son and in the Father."
-I John 2:24

We abide in Jesus when His word abides in us. We abide in Jesus when His gospel abides in us. Job number one is to be with Jesus. Job number one is to abide in Jesus. Every day. All day. Forever. Walk in the light, love passionately, and delve into the deep waters of God and His word.

Recently, I wrote the following in my journal:

"Father, teach me to abide. I don't understand this. I want so badly to swim in the open sea of the mystery of You. But, yet, I have not learned to take that last step from the shallow end. I read a little, pray a little, and forget only to repeat it again tomorrow all the while hoping that I can pull together three or four straight days of this pseudo-abiding in You.

"Set my heart on You. Always. I need to abide. I don't want to get by just wading around in the three-foot pool of the American church. I want the mystery. I want the depths. I need You to drop me into the middle of the ocean where I'll swim forever and not become dry. No longer can I be only half wet. No more of this half-abiding in You. Soak me. All of me. All the day long. So wet I'll never be dry again. To truly live, I need to abide in the great deep of who You are."

To not abide in Jesus is to abide in anything else. It is to abide in a negative attitude. It is to abide in judgment of my brothers. It is to abide in anger, malice, and idle talk. John would sum up these other objects of my abiding as "the lust of the flesh and the lust of the eyes and the boastful pride of life." (I John 2:16)

Job number one is to be with Jesus and no one else.

John closes his letter of I John with a sentence that seems to be out of place. Upon further reflection it is entirely appropriate. It further clarifies the answer to the question "what does it mean to abide?"

"Little children, guard yourselves from idols." - I John 5:21