One night at camp last summer, I awoke in the middle of the night. It wasn’t too loud, but I guess it was enough to disturb my dreams. I heard him from across the room whimpering in his sleep. I guess he was overheated from sharing the bed with his brother. He had thrown the blankets off in his slumbering fit. I rolled over. He was going to be fine... I, on the other hand, couldn’t get back to sleep. The mosquitoes started flying in and out of my ear holes...
In the morning, I awoke to find my room filled with kids from all over Kenya. But it was OK: they were supposed to be there. Some were Indian kids, who had grown up their whole lives in Nairobi, some were Missionary Kids, who had grown up in the countryside surrounding Nairobi, and some were the children of businessmen and women who moved to Kenya knowing that they would leave within a year or two. But, for that week, they were all just kids. And God had put them in my cabin.
That’s the calling God has given me. He’s placed me here to work with the kids of Kenya. Not all of them are Kenyan, but they all need to know Jesus. My calling is to spend time with the kids here, sharing stories of Jesus and sharing stories of who he has made me. Sometimes that means living in a smelly cabin with 7-12 kids for a week. Other times it means leading a Bible Study at 7:00 am with 4-6 kids before school starts. And still other times it means going to countless basketball, soccer, field hockey, rugby, and volleyball games, just to show the kids that I care for them.
It’s not always fun. It’s often quite challenging. A lot of these kids have spent little to no time living in one place for longer than two or three years. What that means is, they don’t have long term relationships with almost anyone except for their family. What that means for me is, they don’t just want to be my friend as soon as I meet them. I have to earn their trust, or break through all of the hurt feelings they have built up from past friends that they left or left them. And on top of all of that is the ever present knowledge that I am going to leave in a year or two. Which means I will be leaving them just like everyone else.
That’s why I have to share what I know about Jesus with them. For the rest of their lives, people will come and go, and they will have to make friends and say goodbye. But Jesus will be with them even beyond the rest of their lives. My calling is to share the complete and everlasting love of Jesus with kids who spend their lives seeking acceptance, or, on the other hand, never even trying to be accepted for fear of getting hurt again.
Saturday, 10 March 2012
Wednesday, 29 February 2012
Boys Will Be Girls
And odd experience occurred yesterday. I try to visit the International School of Kenya a couple times a week. Yesterday I probably should have opted to not visit.
Unwittingly, I walked onto to the MS campus to hangout with the guys I normally see only to be confronted by most of those fellas dressed as fellettes. Some were merely wearing the addition of a wig to their average everyday clothing choices, but those were the wimps. When it came to the bold and daring, some had dressed to the nines, donning tutus and painting their nails.
Being home schooled, I have never felt comfortable in schools. Walking into them always makes me feel like I don't belong and never will. It's something about teachers and how they look at anyone as if they're a predator if they don't recognize them. I guess that's healthy, but it always makes me feel like they think I'm a creep. Furthermore, all the intricacies of school society have been, are, and will be foreign to me. My daily school/social interactions were completed by the time I had greeted my family at the breakfast table. Walking up to a table of kids that I only ever see in a school setting, and trying to play it cool like I belong is a challenge for me. I may never get the hang of it.
Walking up to a table of kids, who are dressed in the clothing of the opposite gender and taking liberties to act on their clothing style, is one thing that will never make anyone feel comfortable.
O the frivolities private schools in Kenya allow...
Unwittingly, I walked onto to the MS campus to hangout with the guys I normally see only to be confronted by most of those fellas dressed as fellettes. Some were merely wearing the addition of a wig to their average everyday clothing choices, but those were the wimps. When it came to the bold and daring, some had dressed to the nines, donning tutus and painting their nails.
Being home schooled, I have never felt comfortable in schools. Walking into them always makes me feel like I don't belong and never will. It's something about teachers and how they look at anyone as if they're a predator if they don't recognize them. I guess that's healthy, but it always makes me feel like they think I'm a creep. Furthermore, all the intricacies of school society have been, are, and will be foreign to me. My daily school/social interactions were completed by the time I had greeted my family at the breakfast table. Walking up to a table of kids that I only ever see in a school setting, and trying to play it cool like I belong is a challenge for me. I may never get the hang of it.
Walking up to a table of kids, who are dressed in the clothing of the opposite gender and taking liberties to act on their clothing style, is one thing that will never make anyone feel comfortable.
O the frivolities private schools in Kenya allow...
Tuesday, 21 February 2012
I Was Under The Impression
I was sitting in a chair surrounded by people I know, a lot of whom were kids in my small groups. I'm not sure if I was talking, but I'm pretty sure I wanted to. I didn't know how I wanted to say what I was thinking. I didn't know what I wanted to say. I could feel the pressure building up. There was a song in the background playing the whole time, but I didn't notice it until it got to one point in particular. The song is called "Kids" and it's performed by the band MGMT. It's not the most profound song. I think it was only in my dream because of the way it sounds. It has a fair build up, which leads to a fade. The fade turns into the sounds of children playing, but is cut short by the sound of one child screaming, which, in turn, is the segue back into the rest of the song.
Where was I? O yeah, I remember.
The song "Kids" is playing in the background when it reaches the scream. As soon as I recognize that portion of the song, I look up and scream along with that child. I scream as loud as I can.
It is becoming clearer and clearer to me how dangerous impressions can be. Similar to assumptions, we can never be sure of them and they are frequently making us look foolish. At first sight, one impression may seem to be this, but then turn out to be that. E.g. If one is under the impression that life is simple, upon taking up that philosophy, he will stagger under the weight of the impression of a complex life. When his ignorance is revealed and he sees that he is under the wrong impression, he may seek to find the simple impression he once thought he perceived, but it will come to no avail. You see, that was a trick impression. Life is both simple and complex. That poor guy is never going to get out from under there.
Furthermore, the application of many impressions can soon lead to the destruction of one's perception of reality if one is caught beneath said rapid fire practice of impressions. E.g. Think of your perception of reality as a big bowl of playdoh. Think of impressions as the mold we mash our perception of reality into in order to give it shape. One, seemingly harmlessly, begins to impress the molds into his playdoh. One, like a child, enjoys this thoroughly. But he overlooks an important aspect of the mold-to-playdoh relationship. You see, he doesn't take time to reshape his playdoh once the mold has been removed. Mold after mold shape and reshape his once healthy ball of doh until all the qualities of retaining shape are absent. He gets frustrated as he tries to clean out the pieces of dirt and dust (and the occasional hair) that have helped the molds turn the doh into crumbly bits of something once useful.
In addition to the first two dangers, I have determined a third. Aside from wrong impressions and being too impressionable, there is "crushing impressions," the weight of which you do not want to be under. Crushing impressions, as you may be able to gather, tend to stamp so forcefully that their weight leaves no room for further impression. I.e. They leave one unimpressionable. E.g. For this mental exercise I ask you to imagine your healthy moldable mind as a reasonably sturdy wagon. If you choose for it to be a bright red and gleaming Radio Flyer or if you choose for it to be of wooden make, it makes no important difference. But I would choose the Radio Flyer if I were you. And now, if you would indulge me, imagine impressions as neighborhood kids. As everyone knows, children do not spend all of their lives in wagons, but they can, if given the opportunity, spend as much time as their heart desires. Impressions, like children in a wagon, are not permanent, but they can take their time to leave. Sometimes, One allows too many neighborhood cronies into his Radio Flyer. The addition of one crony without removing the other causes great stress on this once sturdy, now dangerously weighty wagon. The scene plays out as we all imagine it will, and the wagon folds under the weight of too many chubby, little impressions. The children run, leaving One with a useless wagon.
When I awoke from my dream, I think I was feeling the weight of what I can only assume were impressions. What was I impressed with? Good question. Let us consider...
I believe one impression I was under could have been that I was in control. Another option, or perhaps, in addition to that, I was beneath the impression that I was secure in my walk with the Lord as a solitary pilgrim. I'd been feeling pretty good about who I was and where I was. So I pulled my wagon along with Solitude and Control sitting happily inside and occasionally grabbing snacks as they rode along and got fatter. My wagon's journey didn't end there. You see, Control and Solitude kept calling their friends to join them, and the weight continued to impress upon my Radio Flyer. I didn't think it was too many until it was too late. I recall thinking that I didn't even know all of those kids as the axel snapped and I watched their chubby, little legs scuttle off into the distance.
The weight was too much. Removing the weight didn't fix the situation. I scream as loud as I can.
I think what brought the break was the death of one of my friends from the school I attended for a year in Wisconsin. Shannon Norman was killed in a car accident. Instantly, I could see Control ducking behind some bushes, pulling Proximity and Friends along with him as they hid from me. A blur caught my attention, and I turned to see Invincibility clear a fence as he continued at a sprint to abandon me. I stood there confused as more of my so called companions cleared out. Only Solitude stayed for any length of time. I guess he thought he could help. In actuality, his only solution was to once again apply himself to my poor Radio Flyer. His reapplication broke further the already busted fragments of my once wholesome wagon. I realized his uselessness and kicked him out.
Impressions are dangerous.
Now I have to piece my perception of reality back together. I've spent time alone. I've gotten angry. I've been sad. I've craved other people. I've craved to be where I cannot. It's not helping. I need truth.
Where was I? O yeah, I remember.
The song "Kids" is playing in the background when it reaches the scream. As soon as I recognize that portion of the song, I look up and scream along with that child. I scream as loud as I can.
It is becoming clearer and clearer to me how dangerous impressions can be. Similar to assumptions, we can never be sure of them and they are frequently making us look foolish. At first sight, one impression may seem to be this, but then turn out to be that. E.g. If one is under the impression that life is simple, upon taking up that philosophy, he will stagger under the weight of the impression of a complex life. When his ignorance is revealed and he sees that he is under the wrong impression, he may seek to find the simple impression he once thought he perceived, but it will come to no avail. You see, that was a trick impression. Life is both simple and complex. That poor guy is never going to get out from under there.
Furthermore, the application of many impressions can soon lead to the destruction of one's perception of reality if one is caught beneath said rapid fire practice of impressions. E.g. Think of your perception of reality as a big bowl of playdoh. Think of impressions as the mold we mash our perception of reality into in order to give it shape. One, seemingly harmlessly, begins to impress the molds into his playdoh. One, like a child, enjoys this thoroughly. But he overlooks an important aspect of the mold-to-playdoh relationship. You see, he doesn't take time to reshape his playdoh once the mold has been removed. Mold after mold shape and reshape his once healthy ball of doh until all the qualities of retaining shape are absent. He gets frustrated as he tries to clean out the pieces of dirt and dust (and the occasional hair) that have helped the molds turn the doh into crumbly bits of something once useful.
In addition to the first two dangers, I have determined a third. Aside from wrong impressions and being too impressionable, there is "crushing impressions," the weight of which you do not want to be under. Crushing impressions, as you may be able to gather, tend to stamp so forcefully that their weight leaves no room for further impression. I.e. They leave one unimpressionable. E.g. For this mental exercise I ask you to imagine your healthy moldable mind as a reasonably sturdy wagon. If you choose for it to be a bright red and gleaming Radio Flyer or if you choose for it to be of wooden make, it makes no important difference. But I would choose the Radio Flyer if I were you. And now, if you would indulge me, imagine impressions as neighborhood kids. As everyone knows, children do not spend all of their lives in wagons, but they can, if given the opportunity, spend as much time as their heart desires. Impressions, like children in a wagon, are not permanent, but they can take their time to leave. Sometimes, One allows too many neighborhood cronies into his Radio Flyer. The addition of one crony without removing the other causes great stress on this once sturdy, now dangerously weighty wagon. The scene plays out as we all imagine it will, and the wagon folds under the weight of too many chubby, little impressions. The children run, leaving One with a useless wagon.
When I awoke from my dream, I think I was feeling the weight of what I can only assume were impressions. What was I impressed with? Good question. Let us consider...
I believe one impression I was under could have been that I was in control. Another option, or perhaps, in addition to that, I was beneath the impression that I was secure in my walk with the Lord as a solitary pilgrim. I'd been feeling pretty good about who I was and where I was. So I pulled my wagon along with Solitude and Control sitting happily inside and occasionally grabbing snacks as they rode along and got fatter. My wagon's journey didn't end there. You see, Control and Solitude kept calling their friends to join them, and the weight continued to impress upon my Radio Flyer. I didn't think it was too many until it was too late. I recall thinking that I didn't even know all of those kids as the axel snapped and I watched their chubby, little legs scuttle off into the distance.
The weight was too much. Removing the weight didn't fix the situation. I scream as loud as I can.
I think what brought the break was the death of one of my friends from the school I attended for a year in Wisconsin. Shannon Norman was killed in a car accident. Instantly, I could see Control ducking behind some bushes, pulling Proximity and Friends along with him as they hid from me. A blur caught my attention, and I turned to see Invincibility clear a fence as he continued at a sprint to abandon me. I stood there confused as more of my so called companions cleared out. Only Solitude stayed for any length of time. I guess he thought he could help. In actuality, his only solution was to once again apply himself to my poor Radio Flyer. His reapplication broke further the already busted fragments of my once wholesome wagon. I realized his uselessness and kicked him out.
Impressions are dangerous.
Now I have to piece my perception of reality back together. I've spent time alone. I've gotten angry. I've been sad. I've craved other people. I've craved to be where I cannot. It's not helping. I need truth.
Tuesday, 31 January 2012
Not A Robot, But A Ghost
So, the Youth Room progress is booming. I haven't been to the office in about a week and a half, so when I walked into what will be the Rock Gym this morning and looked to the section where the Youth Room will be, I was amazed to see what looks like an actual Youth Room. At least, it looked like the skeleton of a youth room. But either way, it looks like it will be exactly what we want!
If you look carefully, you can see a Kenyan man having a nap.
This place is going to be sweet! But it will take some more work. That dank looking cubby hole underneath the balcony will eventually be our youth office, tucked back in the wall to right where you cannot see. Still underneath that balcony and not tucked into the wall, but opposite of the office, will be a pretty chill hangout area where I will probably spend a fare amount of my office time. We may or may not get a dart board. I haven't brought it up with the others yet, but I have high hopes.
The Balcony will be the obligatory pingpong/foosball section of the youth room. I'm not sure how we are going to get those most essential youth room items, but the Lord will provide.
Those groovy lookin' steps you see are the way up to the Balcony and the way to the Student Seating Area, which brings me to my next portion of the room to point out.
Those bench looking steps, which are, in fact, made to be both a bench and a step (more the former than the latter, but we all know people will walk up and down them), will be our Student Seating Area for when we have a talk or a skit.
We're all really excited as the it get's closer and closer to reaching completion, but we have met some road blocks along the way. A lot of the necessary accoutrements (i.e. paint, carpeting, lights, sound system, etc. ...) are beginning to add up to be more expensive than we initially anticipated.
I don't want to say that this is hindering our ministry, but it's kind of hindering our ministry. We expected to have this room ready to use by last October, but with all the legal hoops that we had to jump through and all the monetary issues we are currently running into, we have been set back to it being finished in the month of...? We finally got through all the legal stuff and now are held back simply from the financial side of things.
Now let me explain myself when I said it is hindering our ministry to not be able to use this space. I am not saying that God cannot work through other means. What I am saying is that God has given our team a vision for our ministry here, which includes in a major way the youth room, and we really want to see that vision come to fruition. Furthermore, meeting in one person's house, although great for the kid whose house we are meeting at, is not great for everyone else. Our offices are in the middle of Diamond Plaza, which is a pretty good, central location for students to gather. Also, it's not someone's home, so there won't be the awkward feeling of "I don't even know the people whose house it is, so I'm not going." All that to say that we feel it will greatly advance our outreach opportunities.
For those of you who got lost as I was describing how and where our Youth Room will be set up, I have edited the above photo to give you an idea of what I was writing about. The edited picture is as follows:
For those of you who were wondering what my post had to do with robots & ghosts, it doesn't. I am currently on an Andrew Bird kick musically and that song is one of my new favorites. Look it up. It's worth your time.
For those of you who like to pray, please keep us in your prayers. We just sat down to map out what this semester's events will look like, and we really could use a consistent meeting place that we can call our own. Oh, yeah! And when you're praying, remember to thank God for the progress he's already granted us. We are very blessed!
Thanks for reading! If you want more to read, visit our blog at Adventure'sCalling!
Tuesday, 17 January 2012
Nature & Other Gods
I was ambling along the other day and came upon a decision that ached to be made. Right or left? Throwing caution to the wind and royally spiting Bob Frost, I chose the sidewalk to the left. I was walking to not think, but it didn't help. You've had those days. You know what I mean when I say "overwhelmed with thought." This was a walk to forget. At least, I thought it would be. In fact, it turned out to be even more thought provoking than I anticipated.
The road I live off of runs straight past the UN and the US Embassy, both of which demand heavy amounts of traffic. Therefore the road is always being worked on or added to, as well as being driven on and walked on by all those who are on there way from A to B. What I mean to say is, the presence of man is blaringly loud. What provoked me toward what I thought at the time was unwanted thought was the proximity of this human cacophony to the unbridled wilderness that grew a mere stones throw away from it.
After you get past the houses, roadside shops/shacks, various government or UN buildings, there is a Forest. It's got waterfalls, fields, dirt, and countless trees. And it's smack dab in the middle of Nairobi. My thoughts had been racing back and forth that day between this and that and other things that you don't really need to know. The only times it would pause were when I was thinking of excellent camping trips I had been on that I had experienced peace and contentment. I was (and am) craving to be out in the wild again. There is something about being out there that settles my heart. My thoughts came to this place over and over, probably due to the reading I had done earlier where men were talking about nature in a way that could replace the divine. I began thinking about how some of my best times were in nature, how they weren't that far from the truth, and then I found myself walking toward a Forest that truly is a haven in the midst of all the world's problems.
Occasionally, I would catch glimpses of the trees through all the buildings, or I would watch water running under the road trying to get away from the noise of these incessant people. Eventually I took the turn toward the forest that stretched for a 1/4 of a mile toward the Forest. As I walked, men were gradually filtered out of hearing by the trees that became more and more dominant the closer I got to the heart of the Forest. I was already shedding my anxieties and feeling more peaceful. Nature has that way about it. I didn't go far into the Forest before I realized that the sun was setting and I was 40 min away from home. I was hungry. I went home.
The next day I read Psalm 74. This one's not a David psalm. This one was written and sung when God was not the only god in Israel. People all around the poet Asaph were not worshipping God. Worse, they were degrading him and tearing down his sanctuary. Imaging a crazy LumberJack (Is there any other kind?) swinging away at a big ol' tree, and that's the image you're supposed to get from Asaph regarding how people were destroying God's sanctuary. These people are the enemies of God, the followers of lesser gods. Their prayers, their sacrifices were overwhelming Asaph to the point where he had to cry out to God. These people were bowing down to images of gods that they made themselves. Images that they saw in nature, sacrificing to them and praising them for the blessings that they hoped they would bring. And can you blame them? They knew that they weren't in control so they prayed to the stuff around them that looked like it was. They're Pagans, livin' it up Pagan style. What else could they do?
It is interesting that they would worship these gods of nature. Asaph has a better grasp of the situation than they, and states the ridiculousness of the situation by singing various truths about God:
13 It was you who split open the sea by your power;
you broke the heads of the monster in the waters.
14 It was you who crushed the heads of Leviathan
and gave it as food to the creatures of the desert.
15 It was you who opened up springs and streams;
you dried up the ever-flowing rivers.
16 The day is yours, and yours also the night;
you established the sun and moon.
17 It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth;
you made both summer and winter.
you broke the heads of the monster in the waters.
14 It was you who crushed the heads of Leviathan
and gave it as food to the creatures of the desert.
15 It was you who opened up springs and streams;
you dried up the ever-flowing rivers.
16 The day is yours, and yours also the night;
you established the sun and moon.
17 It was you who set all the boundaries of the earth;
you made both summer and winter.
Who on earth are they praying to? Not the right God, that's for sure. God, why aren't you putting them in their place? Don't forget your people, your covenant. Don't ignore their noises, the noises of your enemies; those men revile you.
Asaph doesn't have a full grasp of the situation, though. He gets caught up in their misplaced worship and wants God to destroy them. He asks pleadingly, "Why do you hold back your hand, your right hand? Take it from the folds of your garment and destroy them!"
I took a walk beside a forest and practically worshipped it. Cool your jets, Asaph.
I'm now sitting in the BlueSky offices, which are in the middle of a predominantly Hindu/Muslim building complex. Everyday, you can hear the Muslim call to prayer coming over the PA system in the wildly busy food court that surrounds the parking lot. On the way into the building, you pass a small temple to some small gods. The people here don't swing axes in their anger toward my God. They go the extra mile and tolerate him. Why destroy what you can degrade through toleration? They go home and sacrifice food to the small idols in their closets, or they roll out their prayer matt and pray to a God with no concept of grace. These people are the enemies of God. And some of them have become our friends.
Why do hold back your right hand, Lord? Why don't you just destroy them? Because you love them.
Anyone can fall to worshipping nature & other gods. You've put us here to show them the Truth. You've put us here to let them know that when they call out to whatever higher being they call to, that they're praying to the wrong gods. They yearn for the peace that only God can provide and they mess up when they try to find it. You put us here to help them find it. You've put us in the middle of a laughably non-Christian environment. Seriously, if any of you reading this make it out here, you'll know what I mean. It's the perfect spot to be a Christian.
So go take a walk in creation, think of the God who created it, and please keep praying for us. Make sure it's to the right God.
Tuesday, 3 January 2012
What Would You Do?
Imagine, if you will, a time and place like nothing you have ever experienced before. I know what your thinking. You're thinking, "Bryce, how can I do that? All I ever imagine is based off of previous experiences." And you're absolutely correct. You can't. So, I apologize for putting you through that useless mental exercise and now ask you to attempt something much more manageable.
Imagine, if you will, a time and place that is similar, but different, to anything you have experienced. In this reasonable, but still exotic place, there is an endless amount of adventure waiting for you to simply stumble out into the wilderness. There are mountains here, with various routes and varying challenges. There are exciting creatures that you never get to see in your home country walking about in the wild. There is a whole realm of possibilities, which before now were not accesible. Now, add people to that time and place that are very different from you, but people that, although different, you would really enjoy getting to know better. There are people who are shorter than you, and people that are taller, too. There are people who have much more wealth than you, and people who are desperately poor. There are people who look similar to you, and people who you never imagined could look that way and still be human. There are people who you can't understand even though they are speaking the same language as you are. There are people who think they are speaking the same language as you are, but don't know that in actuality they are butchering it. There are people who you are getting to know better everyday, but still haven't gotten the feeling that you can have a deep conversation with. You just need a little more time.
But, alas, this time and place will only last for a short time and you may not ever get to go back. It's not that you don't want to go back, it's just that you won't have the imagination or time to go back later on in life. And even if you did make it back, you would have lost all memory of the people you imagined since the last time you were there. (You might not know this about your imagination, but it has a pretty transient life style if left to its own accord.) It seems like you can't have your cake and eat it too. Too bad... it was a pretty awesome cake...
Ok, now I want you to stop imagining that place and instead to just know that a lot of what you imagined is a real time and place, and I'm in it. And the place is Nairobi, Kenya. And there really are people who don't always look human.
The more I'm here, the more I realize that I need more time. For example, I just spent the majority of yesterday with one of the guys in my small group. He comes from a confused background. I found most of this out yesterday. His Mom is a Jain and his Dad is Hindu, and he is not required by either of them to be a specific religion. He attends the Christian school near his house and the closest thing he has to an understanding of what Jesus has done for him is that, since he "became a Christian," he feels guilty when he does bad things. I don't know if he is a genuine heir with Christ, but clearly God is working in him. He comes to the early morning Bible study I have on Friday mornings. He came to the Christmas Eve service with me at the church I attend. He told me he will start coming to church with me more often. I see him almost every day. This kid is practically Screaming for the love of God, I'm just not sure he knows it.
I don't want to leave. I'm starting to scratch the surface and it's been 7 months.
I've seen different youth ministries come and go. I've seen different youth pastors come and go. I've seen great ministry happen in an amazingly short time. I've seen great ministry happen over the course of my life. Short term ministry has its time and place. I'm just trying to figure out if this is the place or time for me to think about extending my ministry.
I'm going to let you in on a secret. I have thought about it. This is what I've come up with:
1) I'm 22. I have time to live in the states later. My parents are supportive of me living here (it means I'm not living with them). Besides friends and family (and citizenship), I don't really have any attachments to the US.
2) I do plan on attending seminary in the near future, so I won't be here forever. But what's to stop me for staying another year?
3) I have a job here. I could find one in the states, but I don't feel as though I'm being called back immediately.
I'm going to let you in on another secret. That's not the full list. Some of it gets tedious after that point. But I also realize that living here is not merely a pros and cons decision to make. I can't just decide to stay here for my own selfish reasons. I need to follow the will of God. Part of how I know his will is through prayers answered or left unanswered. I've been praying about this. I've been asking other members of the body of Christ. I've talked with my coworkers. Now I want to ask you, who support me through prayer and financially, to consider supporting me further.
I realize this is not a simple request, so please take time to prayerfully consider how you can support. Some of the people who read this might consider coming to work on staff for the summer. Some might consider joining the full time team (I know that seems crazy, but God could be working at getting you out here). Some of you I ask to consider continuing to support financially, while I ask that others would think about beginning to financially support. But to all of you, I ask that you would pray for the ministry being done here. Pray for the people that God reaches through us, that he would prepare our hearts and theirs as he teaches us to be his instruments and teaches them to hear his call.
If any of you are interested in further participating or supporting in what is being done here, we recently have revamped our name and logo and tried to bring a bit more unity to the trifecta of ministry. Our new website is www.blueskyglobal.org. There is a plethora of information about Summer Camp if you are interested in that, and the general goings on thereof. There is a way to donate quite easily online if you feel that is where you can best support. There are numerous pictures of what goes on here (some are a bit old... but still good). Please check it out. Please Pray.
Imagine, if you will, a time and place that is similar, but different, to anything you have experienced. In this reasonable, but still exotic place, there is an endless amount of adventure waiting for you to simply stumble out into the wilderness. There are mountains here, with various routes and varying challenges. There are exciting creatures that you never get to see in your home country walking about in the wild. There is a whole realm of possibilities, which before now were not accesible. Now, add people to that time and place that are very different from you, but people that, although different, you would really enjoy getting to know better. There are people who are shorter than you, and people that are taller, too. There are people who have much more wealth than you, and people who are desperately poor. There are people who look similar to you, and people who you never imagined could look that way and still be human. There are people who you can't understand even though they are speaking the same language as you are. There are people who think they are speaking the same language as you are, but don't know that in actuality they are butchering it. There are people who you are getting to know better everyday, but still haven't gotten the feeling that you can have a deep conversation with. You just need a little more time.
But, alas, this time and place will only last for a short time and you may not ever get to go back. It's not that you don't want to go back, it's just that you won't have the imagination or time to go back later on in life. And even if you did make it back, you would have lost all memory of the people you imagined since the last time you were there. (You might not know this about your imagination, but it has a pretty transient life style if left to its own accord.) It seems like you can't have your cake and eat it too. Too bad... it was a pretty awesome cake...
Ok, now I want you to stop imagining that place and instead to just know that a lot of what you imagined is a real time and place, and I'm in it. And the place is Nairobi, Kenya. And there really are people who don't always look human.
The more I'm here, the more I realize that I need more time. For example, I just spent the majority of yesterday with one of the guys in my small group. He comes from a confused background. I found most of this out yesterday. His Mom is a Jain and his Dad is Hindu, and he is not required by either of them to be a specific religion. He attends the Christian school near his house and the closest thing he has to an understanding of what Jesus has done for him is that, since he "became a Christian," he feels guilty when he does bad things. I don't know if he is a genuine heir with Christ, but clearly God is working in him. He comes to the early morning Bible study I have on Friday mornings. He came to the Christmas Eve service with me at the church I attend. He told me he will start coming to church with me more often. I see him almost every day. This kid is practically Screaming for the love of God, I'm just not sure he knows it.
I don't want to leave. I'm starting to scratch the surface and it's been 7 months.
I've seen different youth ministries come and go. I've seen different youth pastors come and go. I've seen great ministry happen in an amazingly short time. I've seen great ministry happen over the course of my life. Short term ministry has its time and place. I'm just trying to figure out if this is the place or time for me to think about extending my ministry.
I'm going to let you in on a secret. I have thought about it. This is what I've come up with:
1) I'm 22. I have time to live in the states later. My parents are supportive of me living here (it means I'm not living with them). Besides friends and family (and citizenship), I don't really have any attachments to the US.
2) I do plan on attending seminary in the near future, so I won't be here forever. But what's to stop me for staying another year?
3) I have a job here. I could find one in the states, but I don't feel as though I'm being called back immediately.
I'm going to let you in on another secret. That's not the full list. Some of it gets tedious after that point. But I also realize that living here is not merely a pros and cons decision to make. I can't just decide to stay here for my own selfish reasons. I need to follow the will of God. Part of how I know his will is through prayers answered or left unanswered. I've been praying about this. I've been asking other members of the body of Christ. I've talked with my coworkers. Now I want to ask you, who support me through prayer and financially, to consider supporting me further.
I realize this is not a simple request, so please take time to prayerfully consider how you can support. Some of the people who read this might consider coming to work on staff for the summer. Some might consider joining the full time team (I know that seems crazy, but God could be working at getting you out here). Some of you I ask to consider continuing to support financially, while I ask that others would think about beginning to financially support. But to all of you, I ask that you would pray for the ministry being done here. Pray for the people that God reaches through us, that he would prepare our hearts and theirs as he teaches us to be his instruments and teaches them to hear his call.
If any of you are interested in further participating or supporting in what is being done here, we recently have revamped our name and logo and tried to bring a bit more unity to the trifecta of ministry. Our new website is www.blueskyglobal.org. There is a plethora of information about Summer Camp if you are interested in that, and the general goings on thereof. There is a way to donate quite easily online if you feel that is where you can best support. There are numerous pictures of what goes on here (some are a bit old... but still good). Please check it out. Please Pray.
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
Garbage Men Who Love Their Job
A passage from Antoine de Saint-Exupery:
"Grown ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. They never ask: 'What does his voice sound like?' 'What games does he like best?' Does he collect butterflies?' They ask: 'How old is he?' 'How many brothers does he have?' 'How much does he weigh?' 'How much does his father make?' Only then do they think they know him."
I don't want to tell you numbers. I want to tell you who my friends are.
My friends are kids from all over the world and living in so many different cultures that I don't know how they keep track of who they are or where they are. It's not a bad thing. These same kids are some of the most creative, active, intelligent, well-rounded people I know. Most of them speak more than one language and are able to travel around the world unaccompanied by a grown up. They're social contortionists, changing their mannerism where the need calls and adding new ones as they move through life. That's why I feel so blessed to see who they actually are when they finally feel they can trust me.
The problem is, you really have to sift through a lot of barriers, walls built up to protect themselves over the years as people have come into their lives and left without a decent farewell. Like all kids, you have to earn their trust. Like all kids, they attempt to surround themselves with familiar faces and friendships that offer a holistic sense of identity, grounding them in a comfortable culture that offers its welcoming, open arms no matter who they are or what they've done. Unlike the general masses of mono-culture kids (not a bad thing to be), they have such a transient life style that it's even more difficult to find that "safe place."
I was talking with a brother of mine this morning, retelling an encounter I had with some parents. The encounter went along these lines: (the names of the people in this encounter have been changed to protect the identities of the people in this encounter)
Mrs. Barclay: (directed to Mr. Reynolds) "Have you been introduced to Bryce? He works with BlueSky doing youth ministry."
Mr. Reynolds: (said wistfully at first, but then changed to an appreciative, understanding tone) "We have met, once or twice. I wish I had that job. I wish I could hangout with kids all day... Well, no I don't. I really appreciate what your doing; you have a really hard job. But I wouldn't want to do it."
Mrs. Barclay: "Me either. I couldn't do it."
Me: "Thanks?"
*Please understand that the recounting of this encounter is not meant to be a negative reflection on the two parents, but rather a positive reflection on an opposite opinion of youth ministry.
My brother had this to say about that: "Youth ministers are like garbage men who love their jobs. Everyone knows it's a necessity to do the job, but no one wants to do it themselves." Now, understand, the analogy does break down. I'm not calling kids garbage. What I'm saying may best be comprehended through a word picture. (Maybe not, though. I don't always have the same conductor as everyone else's train of thought)
Imagine if you will, an excited, happy man, zipping up his jump suit, slipping on his gloves, and jumping onto the back of a filthy dump truck. Gripping the handle on the side of the truck, he simultaneously endangers his life with every acceleration and screeching halt of the truck and grants himself speedy access to the garbage that families have built up over the week. He welcomes this juxtaposition of adventurer and janitor with an early morning inhale. The smell isn't pleasant, but his attitude is as he recognizes his lot, and accepts it whole heartedly. For some reason, this man considers his job a treasure when others only see it as a burden that doesn't smell very good.
In truth, at times the smell does get to him. He imagines quitting, getting a better paying, less filthy job, but something about the gathering up of peoples' neglected trash carries for him a poetic attraction. He is a man for whom garbage is both a job and a friend. No one else quite understands and thinks him odd. But everyone thanks him... when they remember, that is.
I had an opportunity to see through the garbage, into the lives of some of the guys in my small group more recently. It was really a blessing. One of them collects currency from all over the world, notes and bills from here and there. He knows more about the world than I do, and he's in Middle School. The other, is relishing every moment he has here as he anticipates moving back to live with his mother in the states. This is the first place he feels he has made friends. He knows that what he looks forward to in the states is more change. His mom looks for the greener pastures in different states every few years. He won't have solidity. But I get to be here with them. I get to meet with them, and others, every Friday morning before school. I get to speak Jesus into their lives as they get distracted, blatantly ignore me, tell stupid jokes in the middle of a verbal pause I intended to be one full of depth and introspection.
It stinks sometimes, but I love these kids.
I hope that portrays that I really love my job and that, although there is some crap to get through, I love what's happening here. Thank you, Lord, for setting me apart for this job.
"Grown ups like numbers. When you tell them about a new friend, they never ask questions about what really matters. They never ask: 'What does his voice sound like?' 'What games does he like best?' Does he collect butterflies?' They ask: 'How old is he?' 'How many brothers does he have?' 'How much does he weigh?' 'How much does his father make?' Only then do they think they know him."
I don't want to tell you numbers. I want to tell you who my friends are.
My friends are kids from all over the world and living in so many different cultures that I don't know how they keep track of who they are or where they are. It's not a bad thing. These same kids are some of the most creative, active, intelligent, well-rounded people I know. Most of them speak more than one language and are able to travel around the world unaccompanied by a grown up. They're social contortionists, changing their mannerism where the need calls and adding new ones as they move through life. That's why I feel so blessed to see who they actually are when they finally feel they can trust me.
The problem is, you really have to sift through a lot of barriers, walls built up to protect themselves over the years as people have come into their lives and left without a decent farewell. Like all kids, you have to earn their trust. Like all kids, they attempt to surround themselves with familiar faces and friendships that offer a holistic sense of identity, grounding them in a comfortable culture that offers its welcoming, open arms no matter who they are or what they've done. Unlike the general masses of mono-culture kids (not a bad thing to be), they have such a transient life style that it's even more difficult to find that "safe place."
I was talking with a brother of mine this morning, retelling an encounter I had with some parents. The encounter went along these lines: (the names of the people in this encounter have been changed to protect the identities of the people in this encounter)
Mrs. Barclay: (directed to Mr. Reynolds) "Have you been introduced to Bryce? He works with BlueSky doing youth ministry."
Mr. Reynolds: (said wistfully at first, but then changed to an appreciative, understanding tone) "We have met, once or twice. I wish I had that job. I wish I could hangout with kids all day... Well, no I don't. I really appreciate what your doing; you have a really hard job. But I wouldn't want to do it."
Mrs. Barclay: "Me either. I couldn't do it."
Me: "Thanks?"
*Please understand that the recounting of this encounter is not meant to be a negative reflection on the two parents, but rather a positive reflection on an opposite opinion of youth ministry.
My brother had this to say about that: "Youth ministers are like garbage men who love their jobs. Everyone knows it's a necessity to do the job, but no one wants to do it themselves." Now, understand, the analogy does break down. I'm not calling kids garbage. What I'm saying may best be comprehended through a word picture. (Maybe not, though. I don't always have the same conductor as everyone else's train of thought)
Imagine if you will, an excited, happy man, zipping up his jump suit, slipping on his gloves, and jumping onto the back of a filthy dump truck. Gripping the handle on the side of the truck, he simultaneously endangers his life with every acceleration and screeching halt of the truck and grants himself speedy access to the garbage that families have built up over the week. He welcomes this juxtaposition of adventurer and janitor with an early morning inhale. The smell isn't pleasant, but his attitude is as he recognizes his lot, and accepts it whole heartedly. For some reason, this man considers his job a treasure when others only see it as a burden that doesn't smell very good.
In truth, at times the smell does get to him. He imagines quitting, getting a better paying, less filthy job, but something about the gathering up of peoples' neglected trash carries for him a poetic attraction. He is a man for whom garbage is both a job and a friend. No one else quite understands and thinks him odd. But everyone thanks him... when they remember, that is.
I had an opportunity to see through the garbage, into the lives of some of the guys in my small group more recently. It was really a blessing. One of them collects currency from all over the world, notes and bills from here and there. He knows more about the world than I do, and he's in Middle School. The other, is relishing every moment he has here as he anticipates moving back to live with his mother in the states. This is the first place he feels he has made friends. He knows that what he looks forward to in the states is more change. His mom looks for the greener pastures in different states every few years. He won't have solidity. But I get to be here with them. I get to meet with them, and others, every Friday morning before school. I get to speak Jesus into their lives as they get distracted, blatantly ignore me, tell stupid jokes in the middle of a verbal pause I intended to be one full of depth and introspection.
It stinks sometimes, but I love these kids.
I hope that portrays that I really love my job and that, although there is some crap to get through, I love what's happening here. Thank you, Lord, for setting me apart for this job.
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