jetpack

So, apparently you can buy your own jetpack pretty soon. Surely it's not any more dangerous than motorcycle riding. Maybe I'll start saving my pennies.

Gladding November visit

We had a great time spending a few days with Rebecca, Maggie, and Seth, and one day with Sean before they took part in the Communality 10 yr celebration.
Follow the link for more flickr pix

a super sabbath

This past Sunday was one of the best Sabbaths we've had in a while. After going to an 8:30 service, in which there was a great mix of scripture, rich worship, engaging teaching, communion, we headed to Natural Bridge State Park. I rode my motorcycle, while Erin and the boys went in the van. It was a beautiful day, and although it was mostly interstate, a very enjoyable ride. The park is just into the beginning of the mountains (ok, hills). It's a great park, with a ski lift ride to the top, and lots of trails at the top. The boys loved the ride to the top, loved exploring, hiking, being out. It was so good to be out, and because the boys enjoyed it so much, it was even better. We were all wiped out by the time we got home. Actually, Jed and Andrew had good naps on the way home, so they were more energetic than they should have been. . . But It was one of those days where you came to the end and felt like it was time well spent--and we were better for it.

1st church visit

Finally made it to a church today. We tried last week, but got the directions wrong, and by the time we figured out where we should have gone, it was too late.
But this week we made it. It's kind of weird, picking out a church. I've never had to choose my church before--always went before to one my family went to, or one where I was on staff.
We went this morning to "A church for all nations" -- a non-denom gathering that meets in a rented strip mall space--it's a plant about a year old. It was a group of about 40-50 people, a number of families with small children, representing at least 10 countries--mostly african, but with Indian, Russian, Haitian, and a few others. I enjoyed singing in a variety of languages, and with African influence with drums and energy. It was a bit chaotic, but not disruptive, with kids coming and going. I ended up playing with Andrew in the back during the sermon, but the message was solid, Biblical, and painted a hopeful picture of what the church could be. Geared mostly toward newer converts getting their spiritual footing.
I don't know that it would be the best fit for us long term, but it was definitely a refreshing worship time, and we even found out that the (co?) pastor, who is originally from India, used to live in Waterloo, and has been to CVCC. It's a small world.

Kentucky observations 1

Just thought I'd record what I notice that's different about KY from Waterloo, IA.

First, I'm noticing the heat. I remember this heat from growing up, but haven't been in it for a while. I'm sweating here a lot more than I did the rest of the summer in W'loo.

People talk more here--I mean like at grocery stores, or Wal mart, or anywhere (the driver's license place). I began thinking that the cashiers must have always known the person in front of me in every line, but I'm thinking that they are just much more talkative with everyone. also, because of that, errands take longer. I appreciate the talking aspect, but I have found myself more than once feeling impatient with the people ahead of me.

There are likely to be more, but that's it for now.

Erin got a great shot of this butterfly the other day. We've noticed many more butterflies here--don't know if it's because we've taken the time to be outside more, or if there really are more around, but this is one of the better ones.

Cameroon Part 4 -- GIving

Americans write and sing some good ballads. We have some good slow, reflective songs, and we sing many of them in our worship services. Africans, on the other hand, know how to get you dancing. You hear the beat of the drum, and you really can't help but move your feet. Forget slow and reflective. They know how to celebrate. Of course, the services are longer, and much more energetic than at home (at least in our fairly subdued Wesleyan Church), but the thing that most foreign to me in their worship service was the offering time. If any part of the service feels like a celebration, it is the offering time. There must have been some sort of order to it, although I couldn't tell how people knew, but the drums began, and soon the whole congregation was singing, and a line formed in the isles, as men and women, young and old, danced their way in a line to the back and on to the front where they deposited their gifts into the containers held by a number of ladies standing at the front. It was hard to believe that everyone could be so cheerfully giving, but if it was an act, it was incredibly well rehearsed. For 10-15 minutes during each service, they celebrated their gift of life, and their ability to give.

Charles

Dave and Cindy Lux, the Wycliffe missionaries who served as our hosts while in Cameroon, had told me the story about Charles at some point earlier in the trip.  We were driving somewhere, and we got to talking about the AIDS rate in Noni.  He said he didn't know the exact percentage, but guessed it was around 1 in 8 that were HIV positive. Then he began telling me about Charles.  Charles had grown up in their compound (immediate neighborhood), had done quite well in school, and had gotten a good job in the city.  He faithfully sent money back to help his family in the village, and was his mother's best hope for financial security.  However, he fell in love with one of the concubines of a village chief, and before long he fell ill.  Test results confirmed that he had contracted HIV, and within a year he was in the hospital.  He had grown well enough to be released to his family in the village, but now was on his deathbed.  In fact, he was staying in the house next door to the Luxes, where we were staying.  On Sunday morning before church Dave and Cindy told me they were going to pray for Charles, and invited me to come along.  As we walked into the room, Charles' mother, happy to see us, yet clearly worn from weeks of caring for her son and bearing the burden of watching his life slip away, welcomed us, and told us how Charles had not eaten the previous day.  Charles lay shaking under the thin blanket on the bed, eyes closed.  I felt quite out of place, yet I watched as Dave and Cindy ministered--reminding Charles of the things he had done to love his family, calling him to place his faith in Jesus, caring for the mother who stood by the bed, and the nephew who stood against the wall, sobbing.   
As we left the house, we agreed that it would be good to have the entire group come back that afternoon to sing a few songs for Charles from outside the window.  After church and lunch when we announced to the group that we were going to go and sing, there was no outright refusal, but there was definitely unspoken resistance.  We had a free afternoon scheduled, after all, and this was eating into that free time.  But we walked over, and gathered around his window, and began to sing.  One song, then another, then another.  As we sang, lifting up words of promise, words of encouragement, words of hope, I really don't know what was going on in Charles’ spirit.  But I do know that God's Spirit settled upon us, and we were softened.  As after singing, weeping, and praying for a man that none from our group except me had even seen, I walked away amazed at how God could take our reluctant obedience and turn it into a sacred space. 

Bible Translation

The first Friday we were there we visited the Lassin literacy center, and Noni translation room. Wycliffe Bible Traslation focuses on the work of providing a written language to people groups who don't have their language written, and in the process, they also translate the scriptures into that language. The literacy center is the place in the village where language training happens--where teachers are taught how to teach in their own language, where books are kept (both in English, and in the native language), and where the Bible translation happens. On this particular Friday, we had gotten a tour of the literacy center, and were getting ready to "watch" how Bible translation happens. We all filed into a back room. In it three men sat behind laptops around 3 tables. Each had 7 or 8 translations of the bible open. A small bookshelf held a variety of dictionaries, commentaries, and other assorted references. They were working through the book of John, they said, and the current verse was John 8:54: Jesus replied: "If I glorify myself, my glory means nothing. My Father, whom you claim as your God, is the one who glorifies me." They read it to us in English, then spoke to each other in Noni, discussing the verse. This was just an example for us to watch. Normally they have a forth person in the room--a scribe, who records not only the final translation, but the course of the conversation in getting there. If there is disagreement on how something should be translated, it is recorded (i.e. Jonah thought this word would be best, Alfred thought this word); the scribe records it all. After a few minutes, they had come up with the Noni translation, and they read back the translation to us in English: Jesus replied: "If I give myself a big head, my big head means nothing. My Father is the One who gives me a big head, the One whom you claim as your God."
As I stood watching and listening, I realized again that I was in sacred space. What does it mean to say that the Holy Scriptures are the inspired words of God? What does it mean to say that the Holy Spirit wrote these words? This was history playing out in front of us--the words of scripture that the Holy Spirit would use to transform Noni lives long into the future--these were being decided on here in a small mud house deep in the mountains of West Africa, by men we had eaten lunch with and hiked with and talked with. The incredible mystery of a partnership between Holy God and earthy people played out before our eyes. Perhaps hearing me describe it this way makes you nervous. For me, it makes me realize that maybe I have more in common with Matthew, Mark, Luke & John, Isaiah, Noah, Moses, and David, Esther, Ruth, Rebecca, and Paul than I once thought. Perhaps these were real, normal, everyday, Spirit-filled people too.

Hospitality Part 1

I'm not much at keepinig up on the blog. But after spending 2 weeks in Cameroon, and taking some time to reflect on it, I'll probably post a few thoughts and pictures in the near future.

"There's the airstrip to our left!" I looked down and saw the runway. It's span was about 300 yards, width of about 30 yards, on about a 30 degree angle up the side of a mountain--kept clear by machete. The edges were lined with people--dozens of black faces with great white smiles--a few fearful children, but mostly men and women grinning from ear to ear, singing, and greeting--a grand celebration. "Tonti!" "Tonti!" they said. "Welcome!" "You are welcome!" It was the phrase we probably heard the most over the span of two weeks. Whether we visited someone's home, or a church, or walked in the market; whether it was a mayor, or an old woman passing in the street: "Tonti!" "Welcome!" The Noni people know how to make a person feel welcome. We were the honored guests, and they made sure we knew it. It wasn't just the handshakes. It was the look in the eye. It was the children who ran out smiling and waving every time we drove by. It was the meals prepared for us. It was the programs, speeches, and music rehearsed and performed. It was the fact that the welcome came not just from a few, but from everyone we met. In fact, it would have been quite rude of us not to greet each person we met. I have much to learn from this kind of hospitality.

Winter II

As we talk with people, this is also the most snowfall Waterloo has had in a winter for decades.

I saw a sign that someone had handwritten in their yard this week that said "Global Warming??" It is ironic, and counterintuitive that such weather would happen in the middle of a time when the global warming debate is so active. I'll admit, I'm not overly educated on the whole debate, but I did come across an article by Howard Snyder that shed a bit of insight for me into why global warming doesn't necessarily mean hotter termperatures.

Winter I

Well, according to the news reports, Waterloo reached a record low last night of minus 29. Apparently our thermometer at church doesn't go that low, or else it really warmed up by the time I got to work.

I think I can get a better picture than this--I'll try and get it tomorrow, but the lower picture is trying to show how deep our snow is currently--about 10-12 inches.