Today I found myself walking down an old dirt road through the heart of the Rwandan city of Gesinyi seldom used by tourists or foreigners and while walking I heard a sound that has become all too familiar, the laughter of children at play. School had just let out and off to the right of the road stood an old rock wall about four feet high and beyond that stood the public school where, in the yard, around 50 kids kicked a soccer ball squealing in delight each time it arrived at someone new. As I stood there watching the event unfold I decided to backtrack my steps a little ways and get a closer look at the school and the soccer game
that was unfolding. Passing an old church and what I took to be the school I found myself not in the yard of the school but at the city basketball courts and soccer fields where not one but multiple games where taking place, some well under way while others just starting.
I sat there on the sidelines being content to just watch and observe, especially since I had my bag with my laptop on my back and was afraid of it being jacked once I laid it down. Sitting there watching I finally decided to put my bag down and join in the game. It became a two on two game and needless to say My guy and me dominated (probably because I was a foot taller than everybody lol). The game took about 20 minutes and the whole time I kept a close eye on my bag sitting under the post making sure it wasn't going to be stolen and needless to say it wasn't.
So you are probably sitting there thinking "okay so what does this have to do with Christianity and it being a spectator sport?" Well I am glad you asked. Like my initial reaction I wonder how many of us as Christians are content with just sitting on the sidelines? In life and in missions many times we look at the worship, or we look at the missionaries and say "man they have an awesome story" or "geez I wish I could have faith like that" and my reply is why can't we? We as Christians seem to be okay with allowing somebody else to reach the world, allowing somebody else to do what God may be calling us to do. Like the bag on my back the hesitancy and willingness to be on the sidelines may stem from a fear of our baggage being revealed to the world around us. We must realize that for us to reach our full potential and achieve what God has for us then we must be willing to trust Him with our baggage and take the chance of it getting revealed. We must lay it down at the foot of the cross taking off what very well could be a hindrance to our calling. Many times when we take off the baggage and get in the game we find that we are more fulfilled and will very rarely regret it. SO my thought and challenge for today is this: Get in the game and cease to be a spectator. God called us to be players in His game plan and we will never be fully fulfilled until we start playing the way He desires us too.
Friday, August 23, 2013
Thursday, August 15, 2013
The Reality of Death
Sometimes there just aren't enough words to describe the heaviness of seeing the body of an infant boy buried and seeing the glistening eyes of the boys father as he tried in vain to hold back the tears that so effortlessly rolled down his cheeks. To see such pain in the eyes of a man and a man who has fought off thieves for a living and who is accustomed to pain, it really makes the whole situation real.
The day honestly started off really well, minus the re-aggravation of an ankle injury I sustained in march. I had plans to walk up the mountain path once again in order to give a lady at the top a family portrait that I had taken last time I did the hike. My mother had been so kind as to develop it and bring it to me in Ethiopia this past week and I was so excited to be able to present it to her. It was probably the only family portrait she would ever have. After about an hour of hiking up the mountain I arrived at her home to find that she was not there so I slid the pictures (in an envelope of course) under the door and proceeded down the mountain. All in all the hike took around 3 hours and as I was finishing up I ran into my right-hand man at the shop I manage. He looked at me and told me that the night guard who guards the house we work in had lost his less than a year old son the night before and that he had specifically requested for me to come visit him and to attend the funeral. Now this came as some-what of a surprise because I had only met the man a few times and it was always at night so, if I am being honest, I had no idea what he looked like. Faustin (my right hand guy) told me that the guard was also asking for an advanced salary to help pay for the funeral and the costs that went along with it. How could I refuse? I mean the man just lost his son so there was no way I would refuse a request that was so simple but that could mean a world of difference to him.
So around 2:45 in the afternoon I get dressed in my suit (the first time I have had to wear it) and place on my dress shoes expecting to walk at the most a KM and most of it on the main road so it would be paved. Faustin shows up at 3 and we proceed to the guards house. We run into Gilbert who teaches the men at His Imbaraga to sew and the three of us start trekking. Now I had already hiked once early that morning and was already somewhat tired and sore from that but as we start walking I realize that this was not going to be just some short hike. The road in front of us turns out to be a dirt road with lava rock scattered throughout making it a very uncomfortable walk (especially in dress shoes that are not meant for that kind of terrain). We walk around 2 or 3 KM through dust, dirt, and rock, until we finally arrive at the guards house. The house is located at the very tip-top of the mountain and although it lacks electricity, the view was breathtaking. Looking out over the city of Nundo I could see the main highway as well as all the colored roofs of the different schools, houses, shops, and orphanages and when looking the other way I see that the land below is shaped out like a U with myself standing smack in the bottom center portion of said U. The view itself was worth the hike but I knew that there was an even greater purpose for me being there. We step into the home with the guard leading us and I immediately notice the dirt floor and the only furniture he has in his home is two wooden chairs and two wooden benches. It was incredibly simple but it was his and I could tell by his look that he took pride in the simple living that he had carved out for himself. We sat down and he told us that he was so happy to have us in his home, especially me. I didn't understand why I was so important but come to find out white people are held to such a high status amongst Rwandans that when they see a white man out in the rural area headed to somebody's home that person is then considered to be of a higher status themselves. So by my presence there in the home I was raising the social status of the man. Crazy I know.
So we are sitting there and I look into the man's eyes and can see the glistening and it would not have taken an expert to tell that he had been crying for a major portion of the day and I wouldn't blame him if he had been. the loss of a child must be one of the hardest things a person can deal with in life. He brings us fantas which I again wonder why would he serve us? He was the one who just lost a child, we should be serving him.
We sit there an talk and discuss his loss and I find out that the man never left his post the night before even when his child was in critical condition. The man received the news of the death and yet still remained to guard the house until his time was up. I ask myself why didn't he leave? why did he not wake up either myself or someone else and tell us he needed to leave or his child was near death? Why did he even show up to work in the first place? I also discover that the infant child could have been saved for a mere 30,000 Rwandan Franks (roughly $50 American). And again I question why he did not come to us for help? We continue to talk for around 15 minutes and he shows me the grave. A simple garden in the side on the side of the mountain; no marker, no cross, just a simple plot in the ground. His family could not afford the gravestone nor did they need one. In there explanation they told me that the child was so young and the gravestone so expensive that it just wasn't feasible. According to him, many bodies laid beneath the soil without any marker at all; that's just how it is here. Death for people in this part of the world is just a fact of life and something they contend with and face every day.
We prayed with the father and took the descent back down the mountain, the man's face forever etched in the corners of my mind. To know that the child could have been saved, that the man stayed to guard the house even in the midst of such heartbreak, it is a heavy thing to carry and yet it is nothing in comparison to what he must be going through. I realize that the medical care and medicines that we all take for granted, like Tylenol or Ibuprofen, are a rare and life-altering luxury here. To think it would have only taken $50...who knows what that boy would have become or who he would have become. Could he have been the man who discovered the cure for cancer or the politician who changed the fates of millions? There is no way of knowing but there is one thing to take away from this and that is that death is a fact of life and we all face it, whether we are in a rural village in the middle of Rwanda or sitting on our couch watching tv in America. There are many uncertainties in this life but one thing we can be certain of is that we all will die. What will you leave behind you when you do? Will this world be a better place because you were here? Will you have used your God given talents and gifts to further his kingdom? or will you have wasted this precious gift that we call life? We must realize that death is a reality that we all will face, and we must all face this reality.
The day honestly started off really well, minus the re-aggravation of an ankle injury I sustained in march. I had plans to walk up the mountain path once again in order to give a lady at the top a family portrait that I had taken last time I did the hike. My mother had been so kind as to develop it and bring it to me in Ethiopia this past week and I was so excited to be able to present it to her. It was probably the only family portrait she would ever have. After about an hour of hiking up the mountain I arrived at her home to find that she was not there so I slid the pictures (in an envelope of course) under the door and proceeded down the mountain. All in all the hike took around 3 hours and as I was finishing up I ran into my right-hand man at the shop I manage. He looked at me and told me that the night guard who guards the house we work in had lost his less than a year old son the night before and that he had specifically requested for me to come visit him and to attend the funeral. Now this came as some-what of a surprise because I had only met the man a few times and it was always at night so, if I am being honest, I had no idea what he looked like. Faustin (my right hand guy) told me that the guard was also asking for an advanced salary to help pay for the funeral and the costs that went along with it. How could I refuse? I mean the man just lost his son so there was no way I would refuse a request that was so simple but that could mean a world of difference to him.
So around 2:45 in the afternoon I get dressed in my suit (the first time I have had to wear it) and place on my dress shoes expecting to walk at the most a KM and most of it on the main road so it would be paved. Faustin shows up at 3 and we proceed to the guards house. We run into Gilbert who teaches the men at His Imbaraga to sew and the three of us start trekking. Now I had already hiked once early that morning and was already somewhat tired and sore from that but as we start walking I realize that this was not going to be just some short hike. The road in front of us turns out to be a dirt road with lava rock scattered throughout making it a very uncomfortable walk (especially in dress shoes that are not meant for that kind of terrain). We walk around 2 or 3 KM through dust, dirt, and rock, until we finally arrive at the guards house. The house is located at the very tip-top of the mountain and although it lacks electricity, the view was breathtaking. Looking out over the city of Nundo I could see the main highway as well as all the colored roofs of the different schools, houses, shops, and orphanages and when looking the other way I see that the land below is shaped out like a U with myself standing smack in the bottom center portion of said U. The view itself was worth the hike but I knew that there was an even greater purpose for me being there. We step into the home with the guard leading us and I immediately notice the dirt floor and the only furniture he has in his home is two wooden chairs and two wooden benches. It was incredibly simple but it was his and I could tell by his look that he took pride in the simple living that he had carved out for himself. We sat down and he told us that he was so happy to have us in his home, especially me. I didn't understand why I was so important but come to find out white people are held to such a high status amongst Rwandans that when they see a white man out in the rural area headed to somebody's home that person is then considered to be of a higher status themselves. So by my presence there in the home I was raising the social status of the man. Crazy I know.
So we are sitting there and I look into the man's eyes and can see the glistening and it would not have taken an expert to tell that he had been crying for a major portion of the day and I wouldn't blame him if he had been. the loss of a child must be one of the hardest things a person can deal with in life. He brings us fantas which I again wonder why would he serve us? He was the one who just lost a child, we should be serving him.
We sit there an talk and discuss his loss and I find out that the man never left his post the night before even when his child was in critical condition. The man received the news of the death and yet still remained to guard the house until his time was up. I ask myself why didn't he leave? why did he not wake up either myself or someone else and tell us he needed to leave or his child was near death? Why did he even show up to work in the first place? I also discover that the infant child could have been saved for a mere 30,000 Rwandan Franks (roughly $50 American). And again I question why he did not come to us for help? We continue to talk for around 15 minutes and he shows me the grave. A simple garden in the side on the side of the mountain; no marker, no cross, just a simple plot in the ground. His family could not afford the gravestone nor did they need one. In there explanation they told me that the child was so young and the gravestone so expensive that it just wasn't feasible. According to him, many bodies laid beneath the soil without any marker at all; that's just how it is here. Death for people in this part of the world is just a fact of life and something they contend with and face every day.
We prayed with the father and took the descent back down the mountain, the man's face forever etched in the corners of my mind. To know that the child could have been saved, that the man stayed to guard the house even in the midst of such heartbreak, it is a heavy thing to carry and yet it is nothing in comparison to what he must be going through. I realize that the medical care and medicines that we all take for granted, like Tylenol or Ibuprofen, are a rare and life-altering luxury here. To think it would have only taken $50...who knows what that boy would have become or who he would have become. Could he have been the man who discovered the cure for cancer or the politician who changed the fates of millions? There is no way of knowing but there is one thing to take away from this and that is that death is a fact of life and we all face it, whether we are in a rural village in the middle of Rwanda or sitting on our couch watching tv in America. There are many uncertainties in this life but one thing we can be certain of is that we all will die. What will you leave behind you when you do? Will this world be a better place because you were here? Will you have used your God given talents and gifts to further his kingdom? or will you have wasted this precious gift that we call life? We must realize that death is a reality that we all will face, and we must all face this reality.
Tuesday, August 13, 2013
The Broken Shackle
There are times in life where revelations seem to creep up on us and in those revelations we find clarity. Clarity about the people around us, the circumstances that surround us, and the emotions that penetrate us. These past few weeks God has been granting me revelations and with each reveation given, a chain was broken. Just like we all have revelations so too do we all have chains and shackles that bind us and keep us from being all that God has called us to be, from reaching our full potential. Many of these shackles are placed on us by none other than our own worst enemy: ourselves. We put shackles of self-esteem and looks on ourselves quite often resulting in the abuse of our body through eating disorders, extensive physical exercise, and the pshycilogical issues of never feeling good enough. We place the shackels of past regrets on ourselves never fully allowing ourselves to move on from the mistakes that haunt us and seem to infiltrate every aspect of our lives, even years after the initial incident occured. There the shackles of expectations; expectations of what we should do or who we should be. These particular shackles can be placed on us by ourselves or those around but even when it is other peoples expectations that shackle us, we were still the ones who originally allowed them to be placed there.
This past month and a half God has been breaking shackle after shackle that I either placed myself or allowed to be placed upon my life. If you have been keeping up with my blogs you will know that the first shackle He broke was the one that skewed my view of Him. I wrote in that blog that when that shackle was broken it was only one of many and it was the beginning of a process that would be painful and emotionally draining and I can now say that statement was 100% correct. It has seemed that God broke a new chain every week but all of those breaks seemed to bring up past hurts and wounds. It would be like a doctor going and cutting open an old scar; it bleeds and it brings about a pain that you thought you were done with and casues you to question the purpose of re-opening the scar in the first place.
The shackles that have caused the most pain were the ones of self-esteem and the need to be liked by those around me. looking back over my life I can see the instances where I would try to do everything I could to be liked and in the end would still feel alone and deserted. I felt rejected, like I wasnt good enough and was without value. I couldn't understand why I was the way I was and why, no matter how much I gave, or how much I tried, I was still the oddball and the one nobody liked. I felt completly alone and there were times I would cry out to God for him to come and heal my heart and take the pain of rejection and more often than not the relief wouldn't come and I couldn't understand why. Maybe it was because I wasnt looking for him but rather was looking for what He could do. I honeslty don't know the reason but I can say that He had a plan and a reason for it and I am learning to trust that and rely on that truth.
Two weeks ago I was sitting down on a couch and a song called Freedom by Run Kid Run came on my playlist and as it started playing I broke down....again (I have cried more this past month than in the last four years combined) It talks about God coming and breaking the chains and even after He does, we still hold on to the chains because it is comfortable and what we are use to. I realized that He has had His hand stretched out the entire time, just waiting for me to let go of the chains He has already dis-engaged, and to grab on to Him instead. I went outside and sat on the ground and as I was sitting there praying something happened. I saw myself kneeling in the middle of a desert. As I look around all I can see is sand, desolate, lifeless sand. I look down and see the shackles around my wrists and the chain links coming off of them dissappearing into the sand upon which i kneel. I tug and pull but no matter how hard I struggle I cant seem to break free and with a last ditch effort of frustration and pain, I throw my head up to the sky and find myself screaming, not an angry scream but a scream and cry of desperation. my arms are outstreached and tears begin to roll down my
cheeks. I hang my head down and accept my fate. It seems that I will never be able to break free from the chains that have held me in this dry wasteland of a soul for so long. As I sit there in my despair the clouds open up and an outstretched hand appears. I look at it for just a second and with my head held low and with exahustion and defeat in the motion, I use the last reserve of energy left to place my hand in His. The chains fall off and I collapse into his arms and like a child He carries me. My arms wrap around his neck and my head rests on his chests and I tell Him I am sorry for holding on the the chains rather than holding on to Him. I no longer want to hold on to whats comfortable, what I am use to, but instead I tell Him I want to remain holding on to Him. After a while He comes to a place and slowly sets me down. Strength renews and with weak knees and a near buckle attempt, I place my feet on the ground and stand. I again embrace Him, wrapping my arms around His neck as He wraps His around my waist. He whispers in my ear a simple phrase but one that will forever impact me "never let go" and with that the vision ends. Simple words with an eternal impact. Its been two weeks since the vision and since then I have had a contentness that I lacked before, a joy that was absent prior, and a freedom that I have longed for for years. He has broken the shackles and has taught me to hold on to him ratehr than the chains that He has already broken.
Through Him we are Loved,Through Him the chains are loosed, Through Him we are FREE
This past month and a half God has been breaking shackle after shackle that I either placed myself or allowed to be placed upon my life. If you have been keeping up with my blogs you will know that the first shackle He broke was the one that skewed my view of Him. I wrote in that blog that when that shackle was broken it was only one of many and it was the beginning of a process that would be painful and emotionally draining and I can now say that statement was 100% correct. It has seemed that God broke a new chain every week but all of those breaks seemed to bring up past hurts and wounds. It would be like a doctor going and cutting open an old scar; it bleeds and it brings about a pain that you thought you were done with and casues you to question the purpose of re-opening the scar in the first place.
The shackles that have caused the most pain were the ones of self-esteem and the need to be liked by those around me. looking back over my life I can see the instances where I would try to do everything I could to be liked and in the end would still feel alone and deserted. I felt rejected, like I wasnt good enough and was without value. I couldn't understand why I was the way I was and why, no matter how much I gave, or how much I tried, I was still the oddball and the one nobody liked. I felt completly alone and there were times I would cry out to God for him to come and heal my heart and take the pain of rejection and more often than not the relief wouldn't come and I couldn't understand why. Maybe it was because I wasnt looking for him but rather was looking for what He could do. I honeslty don't know the reason but I can say that He had a plan and a reason for it and I am learning to trust that and rely on that truth.
Two weeks ago I was sitting down on a couch and a song called Freedom by Run Kid Run came on my playlist and as it started playing I broke down....again (I have cried more this past month than in the last four years combined) It talks about God coming and breaking the chains and even after He does, we still hold on to the chains because it is comfortable and what we are use to. I realized that He has had His hand stretched out the entire time, just waiting for me to let go of the chains He has already dis-engaged, and to grab on to Him instead. I went outside and sat on the ground and as I was sitting there praying something happened. I saw myself kneeling in the middle of a desert. As I look around all I can see is sand, desolate, lifeless sand. I look down and see the shackles around my wrists and the chain links coming off of them dissappearing into the sand upon which i kneel. I tug and pull but no matter how hard I struggle I cant seem to break free and with a last ditch effort of frustration and pain, I throw my head up to the sky and find myself screaming, not an angry scream but a scream and cry of desperation. my arms are outstreached and tears begin to roll down my
cheeks. I hang my head down and accept my fate. It seems that I will never be able to break free from the chains that have held me in this dry wasteland of a soul for so long. As I sit there in my despair the clouds open up and an outstretched hand appears. I look at it for just a second and with my head held low and with exahustion and defeat in the motion, I use the last reserve of energy left to place my hand in His. The chains fall off and I collapse into his arms and like a child He carries me. My arms wrap around his neck and my head rests on his chests and I tell Him I am sorry for holding on the the chains rather than holding on to Him. I no longer want to hold on to whats comfortable, what I am use to, but instead I tell Him I want to remain holding on to Him. After a while He comes to a place and slowly sets me down. Strength renews and with weak knees and a near buckle attempt, I place my feet on the ground and stand. I again embrace Him, wrapping my arms around His neck as He wraps His around my waist. He whispers in my ear a simple phrase but one that will forever impact me "never let go" and with that the vision ends. Simple words with an eternal impact. Its been two weeks since the vision and since then I have had a contentness that I lacked before, a joy that was absent prior, and a freedom that I have longed for for years. He has broken the shackles and has taught me to hold on to him ratehr than the chains that He has already broken.
Through Him we are Loved,Through Him the chains are loosed, Through Him we are FREE
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