Would You Run??

This morning at worship the sermon was based on Jesus feeding the 5,000.  The astounding nature of this beautiful miracle has always outweighed the surrounding events in my mind.  I'd never thought much about what that actual picture looked like.

Jesus was nearly never alone during the time of His ministry.  From day break to night fall He was surrounded by people.  If not only His disciples, crowds of hundreds of thousands of people.  These people followed Him EVERYWHERE.  So to get a minute away from the crowd and get to the other side of the Sea of Galilee to continue teaching, baptizing, healing, etc., Jesus and the disciples hop in a boat.  If nothing more than to have a moment of peace as they made their way across.  The Sea of Galilee is only about 4 miles wide... at the northern point where this was taking place, it may even be less than that.  Regardless, a sailboat doesn't move at quite the speed of our modern day boats, so that time it took to get across was a time of rest and I'm sure, rejuvenation.

By the time they reached the shore, the crowd was already nearly upon them.  There wasn't much down time.  Then the story goes into the actual feeding of the 5,000 men (plus 10,000-15,000 women and children).

But something I hadn't thought of before was the desperation of the crowd.  No matter their motivation, whether selfish or selfless, the crowd was desperate to be near Jesus.  They longed to hear the words He spoke.  They desired just to touch a piece of His clothing that they might be healed from their physical ailments.  They got around the northern point of the Sea of Galilee, to the other side, by any means that they could.  I have a feeling some followed by boat.  Others dragged their crippled bodies.  And I believe some flat out sprinted.  I believe their desire to be near Him was so great that they didn't care about the physical pain or exhaustion... they ran as fast as they could.  Wouldn't you?  My answer is a loud, resounding YES!!!!

There's not much that motivates me to run, but I think given the chance, I'd run until I puked (which you all know is the WORST thing that could happen to me) just to be next to Jesus.  Just to hear Him speak, see His face, see first-hand His overwhelming love for me, I'd run.  Or would I?  I'd like to think I would.  As I let my mind wander and think over the extraordinary motivation of seeing Christ face to face, my answer is still yes.

However, I'm no runner (um, duh!)... in fact I really dislike it, especially now with the torn ligament in my knee.  Struggling with the desire to be active and the act of actually getting active and healthy have always been two separate things.  Worldly motivation only lasts for so long and then I get bored or I get discouraged and quit.  But this morning, in the sanctuary and EUM I wanted nothing more than to be able run to Jesus.  To sprint, just to be near Him.  If that's not motivation to be healthy, I don't know what is!

Those in the crowd who were able (had two healthy legs, no condition keeping them from running) must have felt jubilant!  I have two legs that work properly.  My knee will be fine and I have the advantage of a knee brace to keep it stable.  Why haven't I been running?

So my question for you today is... what would you do to get to Jesus?  To make sure you were on the other side when He reached there, so as not to miss a moment with Him?  What would keep you from running?  How can you get rid of those hindrances?

Somehow on a similar topic... this afternoon, I was walking home from a church member's house and I was thinking about how amazingly blessed I am.  Here's my "things I'm grateful for/of list" of the day:

• Jesus
• I have a supportive family
• I have two working legs
• I can walk/run
• Nieces who leave adorable voicemails
• I am a part of a church who's members open their homes (and their fenced in yards for Piper)
• Good face to face conversations with new friends 
• Good phone conversations with old friends
• I'm loved and cared for
• Flocking flamingos and dedicated youth
• Good health
• Skype with old youth kids, keeping relationships going
• I have plenty of food and and a good shelter
• A reliable car
• Supportive/enthusiastic church leadership
• The ability to sing and play guitar, worship God freely, and share with others
• Being woken up at 4:44am just to pray for some dear ones
• I'm literate (seems so obvious, but I have friends who aren't)
• I'm educated

The list could go on and on, but in the interest of time and attention spans, I'll stop there.

Forever Changed

4 years ago I started my time as a teacher at Heritage International School in Uganda.  Little did I know I would meet people within the first few weeks of my time who would change my life.  I had seen them at the school before classes started, their guardians getting them all registered.  They were scrawny little guys with very dark chocolate skin, and bright, shiny, hopeful eyes.  Within the first week of school, my friend Nick was asked to hang out with the them while their guardians went back to the States for a few weeks.

We had a random holiday in the middle of the 2nd or 3rd week of school.  Nick asked myself and my roommate to come hang out with him and the guys.  We went with Nick to pick them up and then 6 of us (one of the other guys came too) headed to the beach to play volleyball and football (soccer).  The boys were pretty quiet and a bit reserved.  We played volleyball for a few hours before getting some dinner... and some sodas which was a treat!  While sitting around the table just off the shore of Lake Victoria, the guys began to open up a bit.  They answered my never-ending line of questions with their low English skills, smiling all the while.  The boys were so sweet and thoughtful, very obedient and helpful.

Lino and I with some other random dudes

Jean, Saudi, Lino, Angelo, Nick, me

Dinner  and sodas near Lake Victoria

From that point on, I hung out with Lino and Angelo every now and then.  I saw them at school everyday, playing basketball with them during their lunch hour.  Then came the fall retreat for the high schoolers.  I was asked to help lead worship and come as a chaperone.  On that retreat, Lino kept to himself quite a bit so I made it a point to go and sit with him while all the other kids were swimming or socializing.  Some times we didn't speak much, other times once Lino got going, there was no stopping him.  I learned many "African-English" phrases pretty quickly.  I think he enjoyed trying to explain his English to me and laughing at me when I just didn't get it.  A friendship was being formed, trust being built.

Sitting and chatting around the pool.  Photo bomb by Elijah.

Bonfire on the last night of the retreat

Unfortunately their story, though amazing and incredibly difficult, is not unlike many from boys their age from their area.  I slowly got bits and pieces of their story as time went on.

Lino got sick on November 9th, 2008.  I got the call during a prayer meeting.  The next day, as soon as school ended I went to the hospital to see him.  Aside from his amazing guardians, (now parents) Jade and Shelah, Nick and I were the only ones welcome to visit him.  When he was finally able to go home, he still wasn't able to go to school.  I made it my business to go and sit with him, help him with homework, hang out and watch movies.  I "babysat" him, for lack of a better term when Jade and Shelah had things to do, as he couldn't be alone.  Though it was really hard and mentally, emotionally, and spiritually draining, I feel very privileged to have seen him through some very, VERY scary times. There were days when he didn't say much of anything to anyone... but it always seemed like he was willing to talk to me.
As he got better and things went back to normal, or as normal as they get in Africa, I felt very bonded to the family.  It wasn't uncommon to find me there in the evenings getting to know all of the guys Jade and Shelah sponsor.

Some of the guys at our house for dinner

Last youth group, Lino trying stilts for the 1st time

Over that year I saw those guys go through a lot, more than I can say here, but I also saw them overcome a lot.  Just the improvement in their English skills alone was amazing.  I left Uganda in June of 2009, beyond sad and terrified that I wouldn't see them ever again.  Quite a dramatic way of thinking, but when people and a place change you so irreversibly, it's hard to imagine not seeing them again.  I got most of my emotions out before I landed in America and I had resolved that I was getting back to Uganda, one way or another, SOON.  It had become apparent to me that God placed me in Uganda not only to teach that year, but to be someone that Lino could trust and feel comfortable with as he went through the illness.  Who woulda thunk?

Thanks to facebook, email, and skype I was able to keep in touch while I was in the States.  Upon returning to Uganda January, 2011, a lot had changed!  The guys were no longer scrawny little guys, but young men, juniors in high school.  Things went back to the way they left off, except that I didn't teach at the school this last time... I taught ESL at a refugee center, and worked with WGM Africa doing marketing.  We went back to being good friends, hanging out, playing volleyball, and cooking yummy food.  They allowed me to record each of their life stories (5 of the guys), 3 of whom are former child soldiers.  I learned a LOT about Sundanese culture, general culture in East Africa, and thoughts on the outside world from their point of view.

When school started back up, Lino and Angelo were given the opportunity to go Canada for their senior year of high school.  Not an opportunity to be passed up, they went.  It was weird to say goodbye to them as they left Africa and I stayed, but I was proud of them.

At their going away party before leaving for Canada

When I got home in December last year, the guys were in Alabama on school holiday.  I flew down there on New Years Eve, just 12 days after I had gotten home from Uganda.  I spent about 4 days with them, Jade and Shelah, and their family.  It was quite different seeing them here in the States, but what a blessing!

At the movies in Birmingham

What brought on this blog post?  Last night I talked to the guys on the phone for about an hour from their dorm room at college in Atlanta!  It was crazy to think how much has happened in the last 4 years that I've known them... to see how much they've changed, how far they've come, and the type of men they are becoming. I'M SO PROUD OF THEM!  I know their histories, I know where they've come from, and to see them where they are today is incredible.  Jade and Shelah must be overwhelmed when they think about their journey with these guys.  It's not been without struggles... dealing with teenage guys is no easy feat... and these boys are NO exception!

Would you join me in praying for these guys as they adjust to life at university, deal with classes, friends, temptations, etc.?  Also, more importantly would you pray for their souls?

Africa by Paul Coleman Trio

Africa, I came to change you, but instead you changed me
And I confess, I came to frame in a photograph
But you showed me why
And you turned this heart around
And I see your smile, how it can be
So much brighter than me

And your silent eyes, they scream
Of hunger and meaning and eternal dreaming
Africa

Africa, we smiled at you from behind the glass
And without reserve and whiter than snow
You smiled back at us
And you showed me who
And you turned this mind around
And I see your hands reach out to God
So much higher than ours


And your silent eyes, they scream
Of hunger and meaning and eternal dreaming
Africa

Afrika mimi nakupenda

My Parents: My Heros

At Carley's wedding in '07

My parents are my heros.  I don't know that I've ever told them that.   I'm sure my mom will be reading this shortly, so I guess the "cat's outta the bag."  It's true though.  I wish I was with them today... for comfort's sake.

My dad is one of the strongest men I've ever met.  In his younger days (high school, I believe) he was a gymnast.  Male gymnasts are freakishly strong.  And then when my siblings and I were really young, he was a professional weightlifter.  I can remember going to meets with my mom and my sister, my brother being too young.  Being surrounded by all of these huge giants, watching them lift obscene amounts of weight.  My dad isn't very tall, but man were his arms and chest huge!  At one point my father was the strongest man in the country in his weight group.  That's quite a feat!  We have boxes and boxes of his trophies.  My sister and I have tons of stories about being at the meets, causing trouble, and exploring the venues. 

Aside from physical strength, my dad was a hard worker when he was able to work.  From what I can remember he didn't take too many days off.  He worked hard, both he and my mom really, to provide the amazing childhood that my sister, brother, and I had.  We never went without.  We got pretty much everything we asked for.  We took family vacations to Disney World and Disney Land.  We did fun things in Chicago... went to LOTS of Cubs games, bowling, movies, river walk, ice cream, sledding.  We always had a pool (or whatever neighborhood we lived in had one), we had our own rooms (except when we were too small to care), had the latest video games when we asked for them, toys, bikes, boom boxes, etc..  I can only hope to be able to provide that well for my own family some day.

Then when I was about 12, my dad slipped a disk in his back while lifting a 2 pound package at work.  He always had a bad back and would throw it out from time to time, but this was different.  2 pounds.  Not benching or squatting hundreds and hundreds of pounds.  Grabbing a 2 pound box.  The doctor told him to lay flat for a number of weeks and that seemed to be working... at least we thought so.  What was really happening was that the disk was sitting on his spinal cord in such a way that it essentially "reset" his central nervous system.  This is the way I remember it being talked about.  It was so long ago, but I think I'm remembering it all correctly.  

The resulting disease from following the doctor's orders is called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy Syndrome.  The name has been changed in recent years to Complex Regional Pain Syndrome.  This website gives a good idea of what the disease entails.  Since the onset of this disease my dad has experienced more pain than I could ever imagine.  I've watched the strongest man in country slowly deteriorate down.  I've seen him through more surgeries than anyone should ever have to endure.  He has two spinal cord stimulators and a morphine pump in his body to help manage the pain, and even that isn't enough anymore.  Nerve endings have been burnt, spinal blocks have been done.   There was period of deep depression, much of which us kids didn't know about or see.  The muscles are gone.  The ability to move freely is being taken away slowly.  Walking, standing, sitting, laying... all painful.  

My dad, despite the pain he feels, still puts me and my family first.  I truly believe that there's nothing he wouldn't do for me... whether he was actually physically able or not.  While living at home sporadically for the past few years while in and out of Africa, I found myself easily annoyed at his slowness.  Or at his poor memory (pain killers will do that).  Or at his general old-man-ness, if that make sense.

But today when my back starting having spasms and the pain engulfed me, I was ashamed of myself.  Ashamed of my attitude in the past and also amazed at the strength my father still has.  It's not often that you'll hear him complain about the pain he's actually suffering, or the side effects that he has to deal with as a result of the so very numerous medications he's on.  When he calls me, it's to see how I'M doing and to tell me he's proud of me.  Astonishing.  My little back spasms (which are painful, yes) are nothing compared to the pain he has been dealing with for 18 years now.

To see the man he is today, knowing all that's he's gone through, I'm amazed.  And I'm proud.  He and my mom are amazing.  They are some of the most selfless people I've ever met.  My mom has now driven back and forth to Jersey twice... I've only lived here for two months.  What a blessing.  I don't have words that can express how incredibly lucky I am.

My mom has worked to provide for the family since my dad got hurt.  She has spent thousands of hours working at jobs that she didn't like, cooking delicious meals, cleaning, doing laundry, helping with homework, shopping, and so much more.  She has dropped everything to take care of us.  She has given us everything she has.  My mom is one of the most thoughtful people on earth, of this I'm fully convinced. Her needs are almost always secondary to our needs.  Under-appreciated and probably taken advantage of, but never complaining.  Incredible.  Beautiful.  Strong.  Loving.  Hospitable.  Selfless.  My favorite person ever.

God is so good.  He provides everything I need.  He provided me with outstanding parents who love and support me way more than I deserve.  My prayer tonight is for my parents, my whole family really.  My prayer is for them to come to know Jesus is a real and life-giving way.  The joy that I have comes from the Lord.  I want them to experience that joy.  I want them to know that knowing Christ doesn't fix every bad thing, but gives hope and eternity with our Maker.  

Sneak Attack!

Sunday morning was rough.  All week I had been looking forward to getting to worship and seeing everyone who I missed the week before while I was away, but somehow things seemed to turn sour.  Nothing really big happened and I had gotten at least 6 hours of sleep, so I should have been good.  It was a few little things that popped up that really got me.

First of all, I woke up with a heavy feeling.  I'm not sure exactly what it was, but my heart was just extremely heavy.  Second, the puppy was being way more hyper and crazy than she normally is.  It's all good and cute when I have time to play around, but I don't normally wake up early enough to play on Sunday mornings.  She was very high maintenance and annoying.  Third, I had enough time (and the humidity was low enough to not need a straightener for once) to curl my hair and do something fun with it.  After spending 20 good minutes with the curling iron and hairspray, I went to style it the way I wanted and it just wouldn't work.  No matter what I did!  This may sound so insignificant and silly, but after spending more time than I normally would on my hair only to have it not work and the curls fall out was infuriating... on top of already having a rough morning and struggling with the dog.  So my hair went up in a boring pony tail and looked terrible!!  (at least that's what I was thinking at the time.)

I knew something was off, but I still couldn't put my finger on it.  I headed over to the church after spending a short time in prayer.  I had to be there a bit early for worship team.  When I arrived we had some technical difficulties and we were missing a musician.  As we ran through a couple of the songs, things still felt off to me.  I knew then that satan was working really hard to tear my attention away from Jesus.  I stopped what I was doing, asked the senior pastor to pray with me, and prayed.

The rest of the morning wasn't perfect and on Monday I talked with the rest of the worship team and leadership about why that could be.  What really strikes me about this situation is that I've been expecting it.  Since I arrived in Jersey, knowing completely that this is where God has certainly called me, I was just waiting for satan to begin trying to stop the ministry.  Things have been going so well, (thank you God!!) that it was just a matter of time.

I experienced some very really and very heavy spiritual warfare while in Uganda.  So much so that I was sick or injured nearly the entire year of 2011.  From a cold and a torn ligament to surgery and a dislocated thumb... it was rough.  But God was moving and people (specifically people of another religion) were coming to know Him in real and exciting ways.  The gospel was spread through some very important relationships that were built.

Things here have been going well.  People seem excited about the ministry and we've has a good turn out at each event we've had so far.  God is already doing exciting things and relationships are already being built.  Leadership is falling into place and LOTS of stuff is being planned.  This week alone I've planned much of my calendar for the entire year.  I've even scouted out mission trip locations, worked on a budget, and looked at dates.  Things are moving forward quite rapidly.  Satan is very threatened by by all of the good things happening and he's going to do everything he can to thwart it.  Even though I've been expecting some of this, it still managed to take me by surprise.


This week has gone much better thus far and I'm back to feeling like everything is going really well.  The thing is, nothing went badly.  It was the way I was under attack that affected me personally.  It was silly little things that I allowed under my skin and to distract me.  Satan knows just which buttons to push to distract me.  However, God is so good and He's bigger than all of these things.  He will be glorified even when I'm distracted.  People will draw nearer to Him in spite of me, thankfully!  God is continuously working and moving.

I'm so excited to be where I'm at right now!  I love being here.  I love the relationships.  I love doing this work and knowing the huge potential.  I love the expectations and learning.  I love standing in an empty sanctuary with my guitar, singing praises at the top of my lungs... just me and Jesus.  I love the busyness.  I even love the days I'm overwhelmed.  Mostly I love being connected with a body of believers who desire to further their daily walks with Jesus.

Intricately Perfect

Yesterday my schedule was set.  I was going to get up, go play volleyball, come home and shower, and then head to a town about 40 minutes away for fingerprinting (for my Sub teacher's certificate).  That was my plan.  Jesus had a different plan.  

When I woke up, it was with just enough time to feed the dog, throw my hair up, and leave.  I got downstairs and went to let Piper out of her cage when I noticed a pile of puke right outside of her cage. I spent the next 15 minutes cleaning the cage, the dog, and her blanket.  I knew I was going to be pretty late now that I had to monitor the dog after she ate.  I changed plans and decided to hang back, get ready, and go into the office before my fingerprinting appointment.  

Just before I walked over to the church I got an email from our lovely secretary informing me that a member had fallen and a home visit might be a good idea.  So with my senior pastor out of town, I made the call to make sure it would be a good time to visit.  After getting a few things done at work quickly, I headed out to do a home visit.

The couple I went to see have been members at the church for a long time.  They are both 86 years old and they were very grateful for the visit.  As I made my way to their house I prayed for God's help.  Older people are somehow scary to me.  Not creepy scary, but fragile scary.  In general, I don't love hanging out with old people, especially sick old people.  This may sound extremely cold hearted and harsh... it's not that I don't value their lives; it's that I've seen too much death, first hand.  Death is something I'll never get accustomed to dealing with.

So anyways, I arrived and was warmly welcomed into their home.  We sat in the front room and I listened as they explained how the wife had fallen.  They then proceeded to go into the details all of their medical ailments.  This did not put me at ease at all.  It took all I had to stay focused and do my best to listen well and just be as comforting as possible.  It was very interesting listening to them speak... along with their great wisdom was the knowledge that at this point in their lives they are waiting to "go".  I had never heard anyone speak so freely and matter-of-fact like about life that way.  Most people will avoid talking about waiting for death (the obvious).  This did put me at ease because their comfort with it was so peaceful.  They had not stopped living because they knew that there time is getting shorter.  Instead they point everything that they are to God.  There was so much beauty and comfort in their words and attitudes.  I went there to be a comfort to them, instead they were a comfort to me. 

The conversation topic eventually left health issues and arrived abruptly at tattoos.  The husband began complaining about so many of the young people at the Olympics having tattoos.  I simply listened for a while before revealing that I have 8 of them myself.  They were shocked to find that out as all of my tattoos were covered except for my wrist which they had clearly not seen.  I explained my reasoning for my tattoos and I even gave my opinion on the popularity of them.  It was a fun way to end the hour and a half long visit.  I'm not sure that we reached any kind of understanding, but it didn't cause any discord as far as I could tell.  I learned quite a lot.  

Despite failing physical bodies and sometimes failing minds, you can't take away their experiences.  God is so creative in the way that He designed both life and death.  How intricately perfect!

Relief Fades Into True Joy

About a week and a half ago I was approached by my senior pastor and asked if I would be willing to go up to Trenton this weekend to fill-in and preach in place of his friend, Bryan who was going to be out of town preaching at a different church.  That's not a request you say no to, plus I knew it would be beneficial to preach again.  I met Bryan very briefly as he had a meeting at my church during VBS week, but I felt as though things were very vague in the meeting.  He mostly filled me in on the condition of the congregation and gave me an idea of the demographic.  I asked him for an idea of what he would like me to preach on; his response was, "anything, I trust you."  Um...

Little did I know that "filling-in" meant running the entire service.  Wednesday of this past week I received an email with the order of worship and a name of the person I should be looking for to assist me if I had any questions.  I've been in enough traditional services to know how things go, but it's still quite intimidating to walk into a church, look at the bulletin and just go with it.  Being responsible for an entire worship service was quite foreign to me.

Speaking in front of a group of people that I don't know isn't very stressful for me.  (I was much more nervous when I spoke here at home.)  I had plenty of time to work on my sermon this past week and felt like God had given me a very clear picture of what I was to preach on.  My nerves stay pretty calm even on the drive up to Trenton.

I woke up around 6:15am (because apparently I have lost the ability to sleep more than 6 hours anymore) which gave me plenty of time to get up, take care of the dog, shower, and even watch some olympic beach volleyball before I left.  I knew it would take about an hour to get there and I wanted to arrive about an hour early to have some time to pray and familiarize myself with the building a bit.  

The drive up was easy, clear, and beautiful.  Worship music played as I prayed.  As always, my prayer was for clear leading and for words that were not my own.  My plan was to preach on relational ministry and discipleship.  As with the last time I preached, I felt like God was leading me to a share something a little bit different at the beginning of the sermon; He was leading me to speak about relationship building during my time in Africa.  This isn't something I had planned on, but of course it's something I'm always very willing to speak about.  

I arrived, as planned, an hour early.  The choir director was there and shared her wisdom with me.  As more and more people began to arrive, my nerves began to creep in.  Aside from the girl who did the special music, I was the youngest person in the room.  Once the prelude started, everyone was sitting and looking right at where I was seated.  I waited patiently for the prelude to end which would signal the beginning of my responsibility.  My eyes were drawn to the back doors in the sanctuary because there was some movement just outside of them.  Three more people came through the doors, a man and two women.  Their dark skin was familiar to me.  The bright fabric and beautiful headdresses confirmed that they were African.  (Also as I took prayer requests, it was confirmed when the younger of the ladies gave a praise that her aunt had just made it in from Africa.)  A huge smile spread across my face and my heart filled with pride and joy.  It became apparent why I was supposed to start by speaking about Africa.  Of course God would know exactly what the people would need to hear.  

The service moved quicker than I anticipated and when it came time to preach, I knew I had plenty of time to share what needed to be shared.  The sermon started off well, at least I thought so.  I decided that standing behind the pulpit was too much of a distraction for me, so I stepped out, made sure I could be heard and went on my way.  At first, I wasn't getting much response from the sparse congregation, but as the minutes ticked by I could see realization and understanding working it's ways through the pews.  I honestly can't remember the exact words that were shared, but that's a success in my book.  To me that means that the Holy Spirit was allowed to work... if I can recite word for word what was said, then the words were my own.  After the sermon we sang a hymn, I gave the benediction, and then I headed out to greet the people.  We ended just a couple of minutes before 11:30, but I was ok with that.  

Standing in the back, palms still sweating, smiling, and greeting people, I was relieved and quite ready for a nap!  The people were very gracious and encouraging.  Praise the Lord for the ways He showed up and for the ways He continues to connect me with Africa.  The African family had not come through the greeting line.  When I headed back into the sanctuary to grab my Bible and other belongings, they were there, still chatting.  I introduced myself and had a very lovely conversation with them.  They shared a bit about where they're from in Sierra Leone and we rejoiced in our similar understandings.  Glory to God!

I hung out for a bit with some of the folks in the fellowship hall.  I was quickly invited back and asked to share more about Africa.  What an amazing morning!  When I got in my car to head home, the immediate relief that came initially was fading into a real true joy.  I can't get over or express very well just how much it means to me that the place my heart so longs for is so very well connected around here.  I love that Africa is not fading into the background.  I love that people what to hear about it and share their own lives and experiences with it.  

The first few songs that came on the radio were old worship songs that remind me of the joy of my salvation and home (Chicago).  I decided to call home and was able to talk to my mom, sister, and both girls.  When I got off the phone I still had a good 45 minutes before I was going to be home.  I began to feel longing.  Longing to be at my new home church, with the people that I'm coming to love so dearly.  I sped up a bit in hopes that I'd be able to at least see a few people before they left.  Approaching my house, I could see that there were still quite a few cars in the parking lot, so I rushed right in.  Those who were still there welcomed me warmly and I felt relaxed.  I was home.  How astonishing that home has so quickly become a small town in South Jersey.  

Thanks be to God who knows me better than I know myself! 

Comfort Zone

I just got home after a good night out... actually it's the first night I've really gone out since moving here.  What's my punishment for having a good time??  A hyper puppy who's ready to play after being in her cage for 7 hours.  So instead of forcing her back in her cage right away I'm staying up... and what's better than writing at 2am?  I can't guarantee cohesiveness, considering I woke up at 6 this morning.

As I was driving home tonight, completely floored by the beauty of the night- the moon overtaking the darkness- I began thinking about the fact that I haven't been very social.  This is in part due to the fact that I'm new and don't know a ton of people.  It's also because up until this week I didn't go outside of my comfort zone very much.  This is not to say that the time I've spent getting to know people at church hasn't been great... because it has.  It's just not felt like just sitting and relaxing with a group of friends...yet.  

This week was different though.  Even though I was incredibly busy with work, meetings, and writing a sermon, I decided to make it a point to do some things outside of work and church.  I went back up to Delanco Camp (which was really to see the youth, but I ended up hanging out with non-church people too.)  

I've been invited to play volleyball every Friday with a group of people I don't know... except for the one who invited me, of course, and up until today I hadn't been able to go because of scheduling and whatnot.  In reality though, I was nervous to just go and hang out with a completely new group of people.  I'm generally not shy, but it's intimidating to join a group like this one... they play every week and have been playing for a long time.  They know each other pretty well, they know how each person plays, how they hit the ball, what their abilities are, etc..  Coming into a game like that is nerve-wracking, especially when I'm not awesome at volleyball (even though I love playing) and I'm used to playing with a group of African brothers who know very just well how I play.  All of that to say, that I went, played, and had a good time.  I'm not as good of a player as everyone else, but I can definitely see this weekly game as a blessing and also as a ministry.

(Sidebar: I somehow feel like Scotty Smalls in the Sandlot... only my sandlot is a backyard volleyball court.)  :)

Then tonight I drove out to Lancaster, PA to see a friend from college perform in Bye Bye Birdie, which just happens to be the same show we did my freshman year of high school... way back when.  It was fun to see a different take on a show that I've been in, not to mention see my friend that I've not seen since their graduation in 2004.

These little times away from home and work have been rejuvenating.  During the longer drives I've enjoyed the time to myself and time with Jesus.  These times are love gifts from the Lord, of this I'm sure.  I'm not called to be confortable 24/7 and that's ok.  I'm so encouraged these days, so excited to be doing the work I've been given.  Praise the Lord for His precious gifts to us each day!  

More and more I'm finding that it's easier and more comfortable to be here.  Home is no longer a relative term when I think of Clarksboro.  There are people I really and truly look forward to seeing and who I genuinely miss when I don't see them for a few days.  I'm learning the culture.  None of this has been of my own accord.  God has honestly made this so easy for me.  Being tossed right into ministry and challenged has been so helpful.  The thought of preaching my first sermon a few weeks ago was overwhelming, but had I not done it already and so soon after I started, it would be just one more thing that intimidated me.  Being thrown in so quickly has been awesome.  Jesus knows me better than I know myself and He knew just what I would need in this new ministry.  

And now I feel like I'm rambling.  Also the puppy is now passed out, snoring loudly next to me.  Good night moon!