if tonight is a quiet one, and you lay down to sleep with no fear in your heart, if tonight you only hear the crickets and bull frogs, and the soft chatter of the neighborhood kids, or a late passerby on his way home from work, if tonight you read this and can hear my cry, please i pray, please shed a tear. never a tear for me, for i am in the presence of the Lord, but cry for the sudanese, for they are like a cooing moses being placed in a basket and shoved into a raging nile.
my world was silenced today on my way to celebrate another meeting with several churches. the conversation of my passengers was lost as the rumble of truck after truck after truck, filled with soldiers and ak47s, passed by us on their way to the northern states. "they are moving soldiers to the northern border," said my sudanese counterpart. "the south is demanding immediate independence." with every truck that passed my throat closed into a knot and my eyes filled with a cry i am asking you to have for me, for at that time i had to hold back the tears and maintain a joyous demeanor to greet new churches and make new eternal friendships. because these villages are cut off from the majority of the outside world, many of them are ignorant to what is happening in their country. the refugees are returning from the first war to be resettled in a new peaceful home, the people are rejoicing as we come in to build them a "permanent" church, but the clouds are getting darker over sudan and the winds are changing. i can imagine the pain moses' mother felt as she looked into the eyes of her smiling child, who only knew the innocent peaceful moment he was in, and not the dangers he was floating towards. today as the trucks rolled by, all the wonderful people i have come to love smiled at me and shook my hand the african way, and sang their wonderful songs. i then imagined myself standing between the two charging armies with my hands stretched to heaven crying to God. why do guns and bullets silence the crying and not love.
do not be afraid for me. i promise i am not in any danger. but i am begging you, i am calling you to prayer and fasting for the country of sudan, the "gateway to africa." please pray for the arab and christian alike, for the northerner and the southerner, that they will find peace, and know the love of Jesus. don't send a christmas card to them saying you have prayed if you haven't, don't send me an email saying the sudanese are on your hearts if they are not, for this is a serious matter. so tonight shed a tear, thanking God for His mercy and for the wonderful sudanese.
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Monday, November 12, 2007
Christmas Cards
***Please send christmas cards to sudan as quickly as possible. it takes a while for them to be mailed all the way here. so to keep my family from being bombarded with hundreds of cards all at once, please send them in the next few weeks.
they will need to be mailed from the U.S by the first week in Dec. so try to get them to my family before then. again the address is
153 Gibson Way
Mocksville NC 27028
be sure to make note that it is for sudan***
they will need to be mailed from the U.S by the first week in Dec. so try to get them to my family before then. again the address is
153 Gibson Way
Mocksville NC 27028
be sure to make note that it is for sudan***
awesome
these kids were welcoming us to have an official meeting with a church in which a contract is signed between us and them. this took place a few weeks ago, actually when i had malaria, but i just now figured out how to post it. it may take a while to download, but i promise it is worth the wait. they are singing, "welcome to ****** we are happy today."
Sunday, November 11, 2007
nakedlady'sgoat
most of my job, as i may have mentioned before, is spent driving. the nearest church that i work with is two and a half hours from our base. the farthest is four hours. needless to say, driving four hours one way to meet with a church, who isn't prepared to meet or worried the least bit about time, makes for a long day.
the early morning trip to the gas station tuesday foreshadowed how long of a day it would be. in sudan, gas stations work like the rest of africa, survival of the fittest. the biggest, pushiest, and most demanding gets gas. these are times when you have to remind yourself to be a christian. i pulled my truck up to the pump at about nine o'clock. and as though they had planned it, about 40 motor bikes rushed to the pump at the same time to refuel. no line or organization, just chaos. around ten we had had enough so we inched our truck through the pack to get closer to the pump. there is no such thing as personal space here. if you stand in a line expect the person behind you to be jammed into your back. same with vehicles. if there is space enough to fit a sheet of paper, they will park a motorbike. finally after convincing the pump man to stop filling the motorbikes who just pulled up, and fill our truck that has been waiting for an hour, we filled up and hit the road. that put us about an hour late to our meeting with the church, which is not close to being a big deal in africa.
when we showed up to the church they weren't even there or ready to have a meeting, as if it had never been scheduled. so we sat with the pastor's wife while he rounded up the congregation. like i said, this church is four hours away from our base so after a two hour meeting and a four hour drive, we hobbled in well past eight.
wednesday outlasted tuesday by an hour putting us back after nine at night. two days in row we were out past eight. so thursday i used my administrative privileges and declared a compound workday. so we planned for the rest of the week, built a cage for my chameleon named paul, and i carved a sweet knife completely out of wood (pictures to come).
but friday, well friday was a first. i was trucking along a pretty smooth part of the road about 45 km per hour when a baby goat, which i have come to believe is the dumbest animal ever invented, decided to dive under my tire. he was safe and sound on the grass off the road, but i guess he figured he would like to wrestle with my tire. he twitched for a few minutes and then took his last gasp as we stood around and waited for the owner to come and beat me up. just kidding, but seriously it could happen out here. luckily the owner was in uganda this week. unluckily his sixty year old naked wife came to see what the problem was, which at this point ceased to be the dead goat. not that sixty year old ladies can't be beautiful, but at this time in my life i personally don't desire to see them naked. maybe that's just me. anyways, the extremely topless lady told us to go on to the church and she would figure out what to do. i had a few suggestions of what she might first want to do, but thought it inappropriate to speak up. after all i had just killed her husband's baby goat, and it was kind of hot out.
on our return my translator, the nearby pastor, me and the lady, who thankfully thought it to be more professional to put on a shirt, sat down to discuss the goat. after some bargaining we finally talked the lady down to seventy pounds, or just under thirty five dollars. pretty expensive for a baby goat i thought, but us NGO's (non governmental organization) have dollar signs on our chests. fully clothed chests i might add. like i said, friday was a first and hopefully a last.
the early morning trip to the gas station tuesday foreshadowed how long of a day it would be. in sudan, gas stations work like the rest of africa, survival of the fittest. the biggest, pushiest, and most demanding gets gas. these are times when you have to remind yourself to be a christian. i pulled my truck up to the pump at about nine o'clock. and as though they had planned it, about 40 motor bikes rushed to the pump at the same time to refuel. no line or organization, just chaos. around ten we had had enough so we inched our truck through the pack to get closer to the pump. there is no such thing as personal space here. if you stand in a line expect the person behind you to be jammed into your back. same with vehicles. if there is space enough to fit a sheet of paper, they will park a motorbike. finally after convincing the pump man to stop filling the motorbikes who just pulled up, and fill our truck that has been waiting for an hour, we filled up and hit the road. that put us about an hour late to our meeting with the church, which is not close to being a big deal in africa.
when we showed up to the church they weren't even there or ready to have a meeting, as if it had never been scheduled. so we sat with the pastor's wife while he rounded up the congregation. like i said, this church is four hours away from our base so after a two hour meeting and a four hour drive, we hobbled in well past eight.
wednesday outlasted tuesday by an hour putting us back after nine at night. two days in row we were out past eight. so thursday i used my administrative privileges and declared a compound workday. so we planned for the rest of the week, built a cage for my chameleon named paul, and i carved a sweet knife completely out of wood (pictures to come).
but friday, well friday was a first. i was trucking along a pretty smooth part of the road about 45 km per hour when a baby goat, which i have come to believe is the dumbest animal ever invented, decided to dive under my tire. he was safe and sound on the grass off the road, but i guess he figured he would like to wrestle with my tire. he twitched for a few minutes and then took his last gasp as we stood around and waited for the owner to come and beat me up. just kidding, but seriously it could happen out here. luckily the owner was in uganda this week. unluckily his sixty year old naked wife came to see what the problem was, which at this point ceased to be the dead goat. not that sixty year old ladies can't be beautiful, but at this time in my life i personally don't desire to see them naked. maybe that's just me. anyways, the extremely topless lady told us to go on to the church and she would figure out what to do. i had a few suggestions of what she might first want to do, but thought it inappropriate to speak up. after all i had just killed her husband's baby goat, and it was kind of hot out.
on our return my translator, the nearby pastor, me and the lady, who thankfully thought it to be more professional to put on a shirt, sat down to discuss the goat. after some bargaining we finally talked the lady down to seventy pounds, or just under thirty five dollars. pretty expensive for a baby goat i thought, but us NGO's (non governmental organization) have dollar signs on our chests. fully clothed chests i might add. like i said, friday was a first and hopefully a last.
Monday, November 5, 2007
justabitofwriting
well this week was work as usual, four wheel it out into the bush, deliver some food, talk to some amazing people, and see beautiful kids. the snake we killed on our compound this week was a little one, and the chameleon we are keeping as a pet just sits around and eats crickets with his ginormous tongue. so nothing really to get excited about. so i figured i would just do a bit of writing. this actually is taken from a journal i like to doodle in every now and again. it doesnt really have a title but here goes....
i am but a vapor.
i am a moment of freedom choosing the way in which i rise. the world around me shapes this blip of time and space that i will call my life. but above all there is a calling, a truth, a purpose that will exalt me to unknown glories. there is one path to this truth and it is burning in my soul. as my body, soul, and mind are constantly at war, wrestling to become the single factor that guides my life, i am twisted, mangled, and split. i search for peace and a life unified with this calling. and when i am most broken and my world is a dark one, then i find light. i find a heavenly light that sings to me and leads me once again down the path of truth. i call this light grace. i look forward into the light and all i can do is love the Gracious.
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