Real Life Leading.  Mpeketoni, Kenya       

       It dawned on me the other day that 5 out of the past 11 months, I've been in Africa.  In September of 2010, I arrived in Kenya with the O-squad.  Going through Busia, Kenya in September; Lira, Uganda in October; and traveling some 50+ hours on a bus to Sumbawanga, Tanzania in November; to spending the first few days of December at our debrief back in Nairobi. 

       Now here in Mpeketoni, Kenya for these past two months, I remember how fast it all actually goes.  We have less than one week remaining here in Mpeketoni before we head out to our debrief.  The strangest thing to me is that this place has been a place where I have spent the most consistent amount of time in over 1 year; spending about a month in each place on the race and being home for just over 2 weeks before leaving again to come here for a whopping 2 consistent months.  I feel as if I've reached my fringes, wearing thin like an old dishtowel.  The Lord has been faithful to sustain me in these times and continues to do so and will continue to do so long after I leave this place, but one of the scariest things lies ahead for me.

       My entire life I've always had something planned in my future, even if it was just having to go to school the next year.  Once high school ended I was going to college, once college ended I was already signed up for the World Race, and once that ended I was already committed to leading this trip.  For the first time ever I'm arriving back to America (actually excited about it) with nothing planned for my future.  Having no job and living with Gene and Shannon (the parents) for an undisclosed amount of time, single and on the verge of turning 26 with American culture yelling in my face (along with a simi-quiter voice from my mother) to find a date, then to get settled with a good paying job.  My mind can only be tempted to succumb to this and while it's not the wrong thing, it's not necessarily the right thing. 

       Hearing stories here in Mpeketoni from some of our friends; stories of abandonment, being left as a baby for someone to find; stories of dying fathers and abandoning mothers, of uncles who force Islam down the throats of children with my suspicion of some abuse; I realize that the pressures of American culture should be considered a blessing.  The fact that I can come home and find a job, that I have a degree, that my culture tells me success is measured in dollar amounts is a blessing because its all achievable in America (Don't miss me here, true success is not, but the fact that it can be done is a blessing).  And while the culture here says the same thing in some of a more acute degree, the obtuse leans mostly on survival of life; being diseased free, AIDS free, having a family that isn't torn apart by some act of selfish greed (I realize this is a problem in America too), getting shoes for your kid so that when he stubs his toe on a rock and it gets cut open, when the cut becomes infected you have to deal with the hospital which is likely not equipped to handle the injury (this is happening to our neighbor Felix, he's 1 ½), and these scenarios could go on.  But God's hand is not so small as not to reach these people or so big as to overlook them, he has reached them and he does and it's been great to be a part of it for almost half a year.

       I don't know what lies ahead for me; teaching English as a second language in some S.E.A. country, going to grad school somewhere in Europe, going back to get another bachelors, finding a job in Charleston, moving to a new place, starting a business, going to seminary to become a full-time missionary, continuing to work with AIM...  probably will be doing a good bit of sitting and listening on the initial end.  A cliché is such because its truth applies to everyone; today, tomorrow, and the next day, and the day after that, and the day that I get home, is the first day of the rest of my life, and the actions that I take will determine my future.  (don't want to get into the Calvinist argument but I think that to be true)

       Thank you to everyone who has supported me both financially and in prayer.  I read in 3 John 7 - 8 a little while ago and thought of you.  God has been so good to support me financially for this trip with doing minimal support raising.

Thank you again.  This may be the last blog I right here.

Real Life Leading.  ("Real Life" is the name of this short term trip)

Being back in Kenya is exciting. East Africa was one of my favorite places from the race and to come back and visit a different continent and be familiar with it is an exciting thing. We landed in Nairobi and a guy that I had met the last time I was here came to pick the 14 of us up. It was good to see a familiar face in a crowd of eagerly waiting Kenyans looking and waiting for their friends at the airport.

We made the flight directly from the states, and entering this culture straight out of America, not having the segway of Eastern Europe, is a much different experience. This place is still the same, now its just at a higher contrast. We stayed the night in Nairobi and took the night bus the next day to Mpeketoni, where we are for the two months. The buses here are an experience in themselves. There are two different kinds of buses to take, the quiet bus, or the regular bus. We were on the regular bus, and here I guess its normal to play music non stop. Our bus ride was about 13 hours, and for 13 hours all through the night was loud music playing, loud African music mixed with a little 80's early 90's pop from the states. They love Celine Dyon.

The bus took us directly to the church in Mpeketoni. Bishop, our contact, and a beast of an African man, was there to great us. We live in his house with his family; his two sons are old and moved out but has a daughter that lives here, and one in secondary school where she is a board-in. Mpeketoni is a small town about a 20min. drive west of the Indian Ocean and a 4 hour bus ride north of Mombasa. Its is almost literally in the middle of nowhere. Google map "Mpeketoni, Kenya" and you will know. We work here with Bishops church doing door to door visits and some manual labor putting up a fence around the church, visiting hospitals, and doing a bit of preaching.

There is much more to leading this trip than I thought, and that was expected so its no surprise, but the things that are most wearing I didn't expect to be. I knew I would be tired coming off of the race and going straight into this trip, but Im glad I did. I think if I would have waited then I wouldn't have wanted to come. The Lord was asking me even before I decided to come on this trip to find my rest in him. Im having to learn now how to do that, and its going decently well.

Im learning a lot about leadership and how to be proactive with this group in the free time we seem to have during the afternoons. There are two other guys on the team that Im grateful to have, but it can be hard learning how to lead them well. The Lord is doing some good things with and in our team. Everyone is being pushed in some way and some are being pushed in big ways causing them to seek and find the Lord in ways they haven't before. Last week our group saw 6 people come to the Lord during our door to door visits and one other guy that a few people just met in the town; he was a Muslim guy who knew there was something greater. I don't think that group that met him ever said that they were Christians, but the man just knew and the Holy Spirit had been working on him far before we ever met him. The Lord says he goes before and behind us (psalm 139:5) and that really showed here.

So thank you all for continuing to read this blog and to support me in prayer and financially. I still have a bit of money to raise for this trip so if the Lord leads you, please consider giving. You can do that on this page on the left side of the screen with the "support me" tab. It will walk you through how to do it and for the program, you can just put "support a world racer" and that will go to this account.

I am doing well and have a great co-leader Logan.  If you want to read blogs from the participants you can find them at http://www.kenya.adventures.org

Thank you again.

El Salvador was hot.  We lived with a family of 7 (including Taco, the dog) in their house in Santa Ana.  Our team joined anothers for the month so the 12 of us packed in with the family.  The house wasn't small by any measure, but even with 18 people living in one house for a month things can get pretty packed, and there is never any silence.  So last month I learned a lot about finding my quite place and my rest in the Lord.

The majority of our time in Santa Ana we spent doing programs at two of the schools, working with a ministry at the church called bread and chocolate were we go to different locations around town and pass out bread and soup or hot chocolate, and giving testimonies during church services.  My favorite thing during the month aside from fighting Taco, was being able to go to the jail and talk with the prisoners.  This was one of the places we would go during the bread and chocolate ministry.

The jail isn't far from our house.  Its a blue and white building, tall and uninviting with police trucks and motorcylces scattered on the sidewalk infront.  Some of the police hang-out outside in circles while friends and families wait to go in to visit and take food to whoever it is they know inside.  The prisoners dont get fed otherwise because its only a jail and the maximum amount of time someone would be there is only about 3 weeks, and only after a few days would you get the chance to talk to the judge to see if you move down the street to the prison or get out.  Its a speacial thing that the church gets to go in and minister because they dont really let people into the actual room were the cells are, they usually bring the person out.

We get there about maybe 8 o'clock and wait out front untill its ok for us to go back.  They dont check us or make us walk through metal detectors, they just tell us not to have any pens or jewelry or cell phones.  We walk out into a courtyard and down a sidewalk were benches are placed infront of the door thats our destination.  People sit on them with one hand hand-cuffed to a rail on the wall.  It looks like they're waiting, but I guess everyone in a jail is waiting for something.  I reach the threshold of the door and as soon as I cross it a wall of thick, moist, stench hits me right in the face.  I look to my right, there is a cell with maybe 50 guys in it, all with their shirts off and huddled around the front of the cell.  Bunkbeds stack three high and clothes are hung from the ceiling.  The people from the church jump right into it.  They start preaching and and saying a bunch of things in spanish.  I just stand around cause I dont really know what to do.  We dont have a translator and the 4 cells are already accupied by another.  I find a spot on the wall.  Im out of my element.  My nose hurts from the smell. 

Over my left shoulder are three hands drawn on the wall; the first is the shape of a "d", the second like a "c", and the third the thumb and fore-finger make a circle and the tip of the middle finger touches the top knuckle of the circle to make what looks like an "8".  "dc8". I have no idea.  I look around at the 4 cells; the biggest one filled with guys in the front of the room, the one across from it is much smaller and I see maybe three guys looking at us, the next one is the girls cell, and one more next to me.  I cant really see in because two guys are there talking, a lot.

Lili stands next to me, my new team member, and were talking about I dont know what.  A guy comes up to us from the church and asks us if we want to talk.  I dont think we say anything to him, at least I didn't, Im too caught off guard by the whole thing.  I blink and the next thing I know Im standing infront of a cell full of guys all in their underwear, and no, Im not imagining it just because I have to talk.  Its the heat.  There is no ventilation in this place.  There is a hose tied off to one of the bars that runs out the door and around the corner to a spicket, I can only guess that this is their shower.  Lili and I stare,  They all have tattoos.  Tattoos are bad here, you only have tattoos if your in a gang.  This cell is full of gang members.  There is a huge drawing on the back wall, "18".  deis y ocho, d c ocho, d c 8, 666 : 6+6+6=18.  This is their gang.  I see it everywhere.  Its all over the walls and the bodies of the guys that are all staring at me waiting for me to say something.  I may be way out of a comfortable place but the Lord kept me from being nervous.  I have much peace. 

If there is one thing I dont want to do for these guys, its preach at them.  I want to be real with them, I want to relate to them.  Lili speaks fluent spanish and one guy in the cell speaks pretty good english.  He lived in the states for something like 25 years before he got deported.  We do the introduction thing and tell them where we're from and what were doing.  We start asking questions just to get to know each other and they cant answer much cause they're in jail and it wouldn't help their case; so mostly conversation about family.  We lead into talking about the Lord and I get to share a story from my past that I hope can relate to them.  They seem to like it and from there I tell them how there is so much more life in Christ, how he can give us more than I can even describe to them and not in the physical sense of things.  They listen intently and we continue to chat and cut up with them untill were told to leave.

We got to go back 2 more times after that.  We continued conversations about Jesus and the hope and life he brings.  A lot of them said they understand it all, they just haven't made the decision yet.  I imagine its a bit harder for them; they're in a gang, it means something when you choose to follow another leader.  Those guys became our friends.  They made us braclets out of something plastic and the last night we were there they asked me to stay with them in their cell, joking of course.  It was just as hard leaving them after maybe 3 hours of conversation throught-out 3 weeks then it was leaving the family we lived with 24-7.

Those guys need hope just like the rest of us, and I would argue that they know it more than most people.