prayer

Prayer has always been something that has been misunderstood in my life. It still is misunderstood and I only know that its misunderstood because I'm always wondering about it. Always feeling like I should pray more but never exactly sure how to. I've never had this innate desire to communicate with God and when I try to practice the discipline of prayer I wonder if I go outside and talk out loud, go somewhere alone and think to him, write prayers in a journal to him, or just sit in silence and hope for some communication. Or there is always the option of reading other peoples prayers to him like Psalms. Then I read things by Shauna Niequist in her book Bittersweet and I feel like although she isn't writing a letter to God, her thoughts and words are a prayer. Or how about my friend Ashton who just writes, sometimes spoken word, sometimes poems that are just real and raw and they strike something deep in me that official "bow your head and pray"ers do not. The times when I am overcome with grief, unknowing and confusion are the times that I have this gnawing inside of me and this big vacancy that is screaming at me that the only antidote is to pray. But I'm frustrated because I don't want it to always come to that point for me to pray. I want my life to be a prayer, I want my words to other people to be prayer, and the essence of my life to be worship. I want to communicate with God through everything, I want to hear him back and I hope that I don't always have to long for these things.


So I'm trying to figure out this prayer thing and the last thing I prayed for was that God would show me how to pray and preferably give me the desire to pray. It's all I've got.

overturned.

All I can imagine right now are overturned tables. I've never seen it in real life, but in movies and in stories when people are angry they overturn tables and I feel like someone did that to the table that is my time here. I'm not ready to say its a bad thing, but the table is definitely upside down and on the floor now. I can see that its harder to eat when the legs are sticking up, but I'm trying to find a way and I am sitting in patience waiting for God to show me how.

So many surprises in the one week that I have been here. The first three days were an overload of information and shock and emotion. I can't explain all of the events and news but its all been very unexpected. Its been hard that is for sure. A heavy week filled with sadness, confusion, insult and very much in need of patience, wisdom and discernment on my part. Every time I've prayed in this past week I have prayed for wisdom and discernment. Those two things sound like water in the desert right now. I'm thankful for the patience that I've had so far and peace that God has granted me. I have little to no idea of what the rest of my time here is going to look like, but I have a feeling it is going to be a lot of rebuilding, not literally. Rebuilding relationships, credibility, and consistency and I don't mean on a personal level.

Praying that God will show me the way. Just trying to follow him and let him reveal some purpose to me. I am clay to be molded.

Happy fathers day to all the absent, addicted, unfaithful fathers of Haniville.

new and old

Back in Haniville, Pietermartizburg, South Africa also known as my ikhaya (home). This place is so familiar it feels like I'm back in Spring 2010. The smells of the township, the hustle and bustle of cumbis (taxi's, more like vans) and the conversations in the Zulu language. It's been a joy being back here, and on most days it feels like the puzzle piece just fits again.

In just the 8 days I have been here though, I have had some very new experiences. First of all, being here with a different group of people is new. There are new people that come to the ministry, new children born and even a new addition to the church house that we live in. This week we went to a funeral for a man who was stabbed by his own brother. We drove the family to dress the body and then to the grave site, which was in the middle of nowhere in a field of other graves marked by cheap pieces of wood with paper names attached to them. The casket was cheap plywood and during the "ceremony" a tractor came and refilled the hole. It really added a nice touch to the ambiance of the situation... it was a sobering experience. I absolutely hate how routine death is here. Its the rule not the exception. While riding with a woman, Phindele, who works for the ministry my friend Elisa was asked "do you still have parents?" Elisa paused, almost with guilt, to say that yes she still had parents.

Things are different around here too. Last time I was here there were four boys that were always around to hang out or lend a hand and the dynamics have changed now so they don't come around as much. I also feel like I am seeing some different sides to the people working here. Not the founder or head of the ministry, but some others. Its like I have left the honeymoon phase and now see the reality of things here. It doesn't matter if you are in ministry or not you still struggle with sexual immorality and alcoholism. Its been a harsh reality to face but it gives me that much more purpose and makes me rely that much more on God and His plan for this place and for us.

Seeing familiar faces has been so much fun. People are so surprised that Alex and I actually came back... I think Americans say things like that a lot, but then never really follow through. This culture is such a hospitable one. So much us Americans can learn from native Africans.


"Rejoice in the Lord always, I will say it again: Rejoice! Let your gentleness be evident to all. The Lord is near. Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus."
Philippians 4:4-7

June 7, 2011

Leaving today for round 2 of South Africa.
SO EXCITED!

Finally this day is here.