An Episodic Narrative: Depicting Life's Ups and Downs

Onlookers would state that they couldn’t be worried more, how was his mental state? Were you to ask him, “Everything was okay.” He possessed a diligent focus, there was a consuming fire burning within his heart. The light gleaming from his eyes had a provenance which was undeniable, certainly the joy came from beyond that which was within. Could life get any better than this? Yes, and significantly. But it didn’t matter, the grasp was on everything which would come after his years. He hadn’t slept for days, and hadn’t eaten for longer--still he realized where he would truly leaven contentment. For man cannot live off of bread alone, nor any other earthy tangible...

He thought it would feel good to be on top. Cars, stereos, cell phones, clothing, girls, and money: It was all he could think about. If he just had “this” he would be happy, that is; until “that” came along. The joys were temporary, only adding to the problem. The ambitions cried, “More, more, more!” There were growling hungers which could not be satisfied, an exponential series of distractions which saw no means to an end. Onlookers envied such a life, they swore he was happy. Perhaps the worst part was: So did he...

On any other day the collapsing fall would have crippled him, but he didn’t feel a thing. His knees struck the unpadded floor uncontrollably quick, synchronizing his body movements with the sinking feelings of his heart. It was humility at its finest, recognizable by more than just tears. Looking beyond the troubles, something made no sense: Why did it feel right, feeling this low? In the background music played, “At the cross you beckon me. Draw me gently to my knees.” If a beckoning to the cross is representative of a gentle fall, then what was this pugnacious reduction symbolizing? An indubitable summoning? The counterintuitive truths of the Christian faith never made more sense, if only he didn’t have to fall in order to learn how to stand...

Every other word was one of  -R- nature, lying and cheating was just becoming the norm. Nothing was worth working towards, he was always trying to find the easy way out. There was no glorification in his nature, he was slowly becoming just another hypocritical Christian-- living the normal medial depiction of a double standard. Sin clouded his judgment, temptation was constantly drawing near. He couldn’t even look himself in the mirror, let alone face God. The greatest sins, he knew, were those which were carried out knowingly and without regard. Faith was becoming “love-hate”: Rewarding when the strides were in the right direction, yet arduous in its burdening nature whenever there were steps in the wrong. He could’t help but to consider that the day would eventually come when he would’t find the strength to go on. There was a battle inside him... 

It was a leap of faith, one which would stretch him to extremes. He was desperate, he needed to be alone. There was no turning back, it felt as if this was going to be a “make or break” period of his life. He traveled thousands of miles away from home, only to find himself in a situation to move millions of “miles” closer to God-- and it worked. A calling became consumingly clear, God showed him a purpose for his life. He was excited, at first, to sleepless extremes. This was the concept which gave him an unmatched lively high: God was going to use imperfection to further a perfect kingdom. God was going to use him...

The bounty placed on his soul must have been clearly seen by any and all lamentable inclinations. He had to be stopped, perhaps there was too much potential. Or perhaps, as he would argue, none at all. It had nothing to do with his own worth, and everything to do with opening the door to the Holy Spirit. What a waste of an investment, God would get no return. The broken promise tore him apart, but God had grown used to his unreliability. He would pray, “Let your will be done in my life, guide me with the Holy Spirit. I will go to whatever lengths necessary in your name!” What a great hypothetical and idealistic statement to make. How could an all knowing God be foolish enough believe him? His life was slowly dwindling down a path of entirely different lengths... 

He wasn’t at a loss for words, he knew exactly what he would say (were he to actually speak). He wouldn’t even need to open his mouth, nor say a word. This concept confused him, surely God needed no vocalization of such heart cries. But it wasn’t about communication, nor pertaining to information unknown. Humility was the word which was leading him to the fork in the road. It was an apology which was needed, one inconceivably difficult to express. Having reached a potential for many turns, he knew it would only require a “left”  in order to bring his life back to terms. Still his pride convinced him to reproach the guilt in his life. He continued to turn right, at least for a month or two, until one lonely night. What a release it was, having walked up that hill to pray, just him and his Father looking down at the city. Those three words, “I am sorry,” brought him back to where he needed to be. “Aba, my love for you is unshakable. Nothing can ever be prolonged in between...”

Though he could recognize the feud within his heart, knowledge wasn’t everything. His spiritual weakness proved to be an easy way out. Though we are promised to never be tempted beyond what we can bear, he grew unwilling to even put up a fight. Faced with incompetencies and fear, his strength against evil was plummeting. Satan understood why he couldn’t succeed in his purpose, yet he himself could not understand what difference it could make. What would success in his life possibly surmount to? Mortality belittled him, making it all too easy for darkness to stop God’s spiritual soldier at the front line. He didn’t believe in himself, but Satan’s efforts proved there was in fact potential. Why did he need to be stopped, why was every evil hold on his life being entirely adhered to? This train of thought should have been a slap in the face, pointing directly to his spiritual capacity, still he was blind in every sense of the word. Instead similar questions raced through his head: “Why should I live by the Book? Why should I continue to try? What good can I do? Why do I even bother praying? Why do I only ever let God down?” The price on his soul had proven to be substantial enough...

The stress weighed down on him, though it was nothing that a million other people weren’t faced with. But that was the point, he didn’t want to be like the rest, burdened by the pain of this life. He didn’t want to worry about his money, schedule, or sleep. He wanted to focus on something more-- a commitment which required a level of trust in God that he didn’t yet have. Faced with the truths of life, he grew unable to focus on any Godly affirmations in this world. Questions loomed over his head, he was burdened by blessings and tortured by the unquestionable agony of those who weren’t. “Whenever it stabs me, it reminds me that this is only a small fraction of the pain Jesus had to bare for our sins, that is why I wear this symbol around my neck.” Everyone wore a cross around their neck, turning the wooden planks into a happy representation of grace-- but he wore a crown of thorns. But the stabbing thorns, however, wrongly highlighted his life. They only reminded him that he could run away from “home” only to return to his Father’s house at anytime. Grace almost forces Christians towards occasionally being the worst of people-- the cross gives them the freedom to a life without long-standing reproach. This trend in his life was like a roller coaster --growing exponentially-- the lower the fall from God, the higher he would eventually climb. But certainly, he thought, “What comes up must come down.” And this “low point” was trenched too deep. Were he to raise himself from this low, the spiritual high would be insurmountable and enduring. But gravity, like the evil in his life, always seemed to win... 

He tore the stickers from his car, and ripped the crown from his neck. He wasn’t going to represent his Father anymore. He wasn’t going to be a representation of grace and love. For years Jesus’s symbol was worn around his chest, surrounding his heart with a selfless representation and promise to live for more. What broke first, the necklace or his heart, this was entirely impossible to tell. As he abandoned his position and Godly intentions, it felt as if His soul was finally at peace-- free from the battle and wages of spiritual war. He was no longer a target, slowly he re-learned how to lift up his now unweighted shoulders. Alas, he could take a deep breath and put to bed the painful-pitter-patters of a restless heart. He had no dog tags, no crown around his neck; he was flying no flag, displaying no faithful representations; he fled from the front lines, laying his work entirely aside; and he kindly received his discharge, dropping that breast-plate of righteousness to lay and dwell in the so called past...

Was it the end, or hardly the beginning-- can even a spark ignite a flame? Though he protected his heart from the tearing of sides, a voice in his head continually kept crying, “You have quit on a cause, you have chosen simplicity, you have chosen a facile escape!” His soul cried, “Yes, I will continue!” But another spirit yelled, “Never!” Forget dying for a cause, would he even consider living for this cause ever again? In the warm still of his room he wiped the sweat from his brow, and screamed from the top of his lungs, “Father, why won’t you let me settle for less? Why can’t I settle for the simple safety of grace without such oblige? Why can’t your will for my life be easy?” Easy or not, these Godly intentions were far form pliant. He grew ready to rise from his state of spiritual deadness. Though he couldn’t raise himself from the dead, though he couldn’t walk on water, and though he couldn’t heal the sick-- he could call upon the resilience of the One who did. In a triumph he reached his feat. The crushing weight of spiritual transgressions again fell upon his back, only to be supported by a belt of undeniable truth which was wrapped around his waste: Agápē was inescapable, making it so the ups and downs of his life could be of no concern. His form of safety again took a turn, gripping itself onto a life of complete risk. Counter intuitive really, still the uncompromisingly-forceful look in his eyes read heartfelt commitment and newfound resilience. His fight had to be sacrificial and steadfast-- like the unconditional love which planed him through the historical ups and downs of his life. 

A Thanks to Those I Value

As I finish packing up every single possession of mine, not leaving a single thing remaining in my room of old, I am surprised of the thoughts that slowly pass through my head. This is the house I have spent 20 years of my life in. And this was the very room where have rested my body, mind, heart and soul each night as I slowly became the person I am today. I am not overcome by any sense of sadness leaving, the emotions I am feeling looking at all of the blank white walls are not the typical “home sick already” type. The only thing I can focus on, as I leave this stage of my life, are the memories of all of the different friends that have come and shared this dwelling place with me. All of the friends that have come, gone, and stayed in my life throughout all of the years. For whatever reason that is what I am associating with my room: Friendship. 

I have had over a hundred different close friends in my life, that is my honest estimate when I go back as far as I can remember. Some I no longer speak to. Some I left on the ground bleeding following friendship ending scurries. Some I chased around in my truck, pleading for a chance to make amends. Some disappeared from my life, and fell to the consequences of drugs and alcohol. Some friends moved away. Some friends stabbed me in the back, and speechlessly left me alone. Some still keep in touch, but only rarely. Some don’t answer my calls or reply to my texts. Some only call when they need something. Some call me still, 3-4 times a week. Some would spend each second with me were they not going to college across the country. And some I still have the privilege of seeing ever-so frequently.

As terrible as this will now sound, when I think about it I can only truly recognize only a few that have stood the test of time-- only a few that have never failed me, constantly showing me a love I hardly deserve. It is on these select few friends that I have become overwhelmingly focused on tonight. My trail of thought reaching this point is absurd, I realize; but I am truly overwhelmed thinking of these people. 

The most important part of this all is that I can’t help but think of these select few friends without praising God. The Bible says, "A man that hath friends must show himself friendly" (Prov. 18: 24). I think, aside from clinging to my faith, that one of the main reasons I have been able to survive the teenage roller-coaster of life is thanks to these few friends. Solomon was right when he said that a friendly man almost certainly has friends of a similar type. I think he was quick and to the point with this, failing to describe, in detail, the character and values of these friends that a “man hath”. I am able to show myself friendly because I have people around me that show themselves friendly, caring, and loving towards me and the world around them. 

I recognize the value in friendship, the verse, “Two are better than one," does not have to apply only to relationships. And I am beyond thankful that I have never had to be alone, through all of the good times and the bad. A true friend will stand by, even in times of trouble. The Bible tells us, "A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity.” A brother is born out of adversity... I completely believe that, and my love for the friends that have been there for me through the bad times are the ones I refer to as standing out in my heart. 

On the contrary, the Bible speaks of bad friends warning us that, "Confidence in an unfaithful man in time of trouble is like a broken tooth, and a foot out of joint" (Prov. 25: 19). It is safe to say that each year it seems that I have placed confidence in a friend that has let me down. Time has a powerful way, if we are patient, of showing ANYONE’S true colors. I learn this constantly, as the numbers of “good” friends seem to slowly dwindle down. I am thankful, however; for this. I am thankful each time I learn the true colors of a friend, regardless of how much it stings (learning their true colors). Because I do not base any success in this life off of a quantity of friends (be them average or incredible friends). 

  To be honest, aside from recognizing these anonymous friends, I am hardly going anywhere with this. There is just one final point to be made: A true friend will tell us when we are wrong. Hear the Bible on this one, "Faithful are the wounds of a friend; but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful" (Prov. 27: 6). Genuine friends must be cherished and not forsaken, because they correct us when we are wrong, they stand up for us when we are trespassed against, and they love us through thick and through thin. Tonight I thank those friends, from the bottom of my heart. I pray that I have been, and can continue to be, an equal friend to you all. Forgive me if at times I fail...

When Suddenly My Purpose in Africa Became Clear

[Another journal entry from Africa, stumbled upon it again now that I am home]






A notification flashes in the middle of the screen: Your computer is now running on reserve battery. I am devastated by this. My Bible and my computer-- the two things that I have kept closer to me this past month than anything else. When I will be able to charge my computer again (literally) only God knows. Still thoughts race through my head, and I panic racing to my computer-- my safe hold, my place to vent, my place to release burdens. My emotions flourish and pump through my veins quicker than blood, as if my “heart’s” purpose was compassion over vitality.

Thirty minutes remaining until my computer powers down, and it feels like my emotional capacity will drain in far less time. I am at a loss for words, I can hardly breathe, and my vision is blurring. I am experiencing the fourth panic attack of my life... How low do I feel? Who races to their computer because they are losing themselves? My pride suffers, admitting that I am being stretched beyond all measures, pushed to a point beyond the capability of an “Anthony Sylvester triumph”. Only a few tears fall, I won’t let myself cry. Though I wish I would break down--crying myself to sleep within the arms of my Father...

I pray very commonly for God to open up doors in my life. I pray for chances to do good. I pray for chances to let God’s will be done in my life. And when the doors finally open, in nights such as these, I become petrified. When I hear a calm whisper from my Father, I shake and tremble. When God calls, I listen... But my first response is to feel inadequate. I lay each night under a net, and the feeling is as such: As if I am trapped and caged in my own inabilities. Trapped in a world so small, reminded that I am human-- imperfect, and hardly capable. Why then would God use me? A toss and turn, anyone watching would deem me psychotic. But how can I get past such discrepancies? How can such a perfect God use an imperfect soul to ever accomplish anything which may further a perfect Kingdom?

Do I tremble out of fear? May it never be! Perhaps from a lack of understanding? Surely I am not scared to carry out the will of God. Surely I know that I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. Surely I know that if His will is aligned with my ambitions... Then I could never fall short. Finally I have gained ground with my thoughts... I shake because I lack understanding. I toss and turn, until finally running to my computer, because I cannot wrap my head around something: God’s love that is. I grab my head with both hands, and roll into a ball-- simply because I am moved (and entirely taken back) by the thought of perfection loving imperfection. The emotions are taken a step further when I picture perfection integrating imperfection into a perfect AND loving will. The ultimate push towards my insane panic comes when I try to wrap this irony around my own life. God is using me? God has great plans for me? I feel the Holly Spirit inside of me telling me that such a “calling” surely cannot have human roots...

Do I ALSO become uneasy and beyond restless because of excitment? I can’t imagine an NFL quarterback sleeping the night before the Superbowl. Honestly, I think my excitement beyond compares. Though I admit, I can be excited for the future while still getting butterflies imagining what it will be like. Again, incompetency creeps in-- I feel as if I need to stay awake and SUDDENLY become a better and more capable person. I can’t let God down. I can’t rest until I have completed His work. I must give this my all. I must put distractions aside. I must change my life around. I must turn left where I have always planned on turning right. This will mean a different route, a different life for which I will carry out. My friends and family will hardly be able to accept where I will go. God has changed the directions in which I will journey-- He has opened a door. And when that door opens, finally letting the light creep out from within, I panic suddenly feeling as if I have to become “more of a person”. I feel if I am going to accomplish anything for His sake then I must push myself to even more extremes. I feel that the “Anthony of old” will not be competent to cary out such tasks. I can’t let God down! In such distress I lose myself... But surely God is willing to take us as we are, I must learn to do the same for myself.

I have panicked before. This is a night similar to many of the past. I must remember not too look to far ahead. I must remember to take things day by day. I must remember my limits. I must understand that God both knows and understands that I am only human. I must turn to God for strength... I am thankful for the direction and will that God has laid on my heart. I am thankful for God’s unexplainable love... I don’t have to understand why He loves us. I don’t have to consume my thoughts with questions of inadequacy. In fact, just about the only thing I can do is this: Praise Him for the things which, in fact; will always remain unknown to me...

Thank you God, for loving us when you have no reason. Thank you for using me in the ways that I never thought possible, even though without you I am entirely incapable. Thank you for strengthening me to continue pursuing a life aimed at furthering your Kingdom. Let your pleasing will be done on earth as it is in Heaven. I am your humble servant, your spiritual soldier, and your humble child... Take me into your arms tonight and hold me Lord. Give me rest. Ease my heart, my soul, and my mind. Tomorrow I will run with you, tomorrow we will work together at these goals-- but tonight let me rest. I love you God... One might say I am tossing and turning in distress. But with a now clear head, I say, I am simply jumping for joy at the good that we will together accomplish... I tremble only because of my lack of understanding, wrapping my head around your love for me. How could I sleep when it feels as if just minutes ago you were in the room speaking directly to me? It is only through you that this is all possible, to you and your Son be all of the glory. Goodnight Father...

Therefore let us also lay aside every encumbrance and the sin which so easily entangles us, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us. -Hebrews 12:1

I Don't Want the World to See Me

These are the lyrics to a long time favorite song of mine:

I know that you feel me somehow. You are the closest to heaven that I will ever be, and I don't want to go home right now. And all I can taste is this moment... And sooner or later its over... And I don't want the world to see me, because I don't think that they'd understand. When everything is meant to be broken, I just want you to know who I am... And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming, all the moment and truth in your lies. When everything feels like the movies, you bleed just to know you are alive. 


It is slightly ironic to me that this song, being about ten years old, has been played exactly 8 times (either on the radio or in my gym) since I have been home. Is this God reminding me of the way I feel? I have been home now for over a week, and already I am falling into the dangerous and ignorant life that I once lead. Describing what is "old" and what is "new" is a difficult thing for me to do, I feel as if I only have one person at the moment that can relate to my struggles coming home... But here goes...

At first, the biggest shock came the moment I hit a U.S. airpot. That is when I first realized that it would be next to impossible for me to enter "real life" again with the same spiritual intensity that encompassed my life for the past 7 weeks. Materialism, financial issues, social life, school, and baseball... The typical things (aside from beautiful girls) that keep me from focusing on the more important things in life.

Its like my heart started crying out, "This is not who you are Anthony. Live in the way God is calling you. Don't come back to this kind of life."

When I saw the first fast food restaurant, and when I turned my U.S. phone back on for the first time-- the impact of it all took my breath away. And at first my plan was to run from "real life" entirely. I was going to change my number, my email address, quit baseball, and then I was going to move out of my house. I figured that I would run form the world, after all no one could ever understand me and the desires of my heart. This plan still sounds absolutely incredible to me, it is just extremely unrealistic.

So if I am going to let the world see me (A.K.A. come out from my corner/hole/closed doors), then how am I going to get them to understand? How am I going to describe to people the emotions I have felt? How am I going to describe the incredible spiritual high that I had, having focused entirely on God for almost two months? And how am I going to make it clear to those around me who I "actually" am? Beats me!

Already I am failing. So far Africa has made me a worse person. For one I am now a bigger liar, it is easier just to tell people that Africa was great...

Secondly, I have absolutely no patience for people. I have no patience for my family (particularly my poor brother, who has become the victim of my angers). I have no patience for laziness, no patience for "he said she said", and absolutely no patience for life-related complaints. Simply put, I have no patience for people...

Third, I am running from my feelings already. I am fighting these apparent urges of mine to hide from my issues behind food and shopping. Instead of laying in my room writing, praying, reading, and growing closer to God (in order to direct my life); I chose to sleep, go to the store, and work on miscellaneous projects that I have.

Fourth, my pride is outrageously abundant. Having gone to Africa I feel as if my mental capacity and ability to handle bad situations is second to none. I feel that since I managed to go by myself that I am even more independent and capable than I ever was. When I know that I only made it by the grace of God and by drawing EXTREMELY CLOSE to God. But now that I am home I distort my recollection of the trip, and begin thinking that I survived by my own strengths. And because I am so capable and so "strong" I don't need to pray anymore, don't need to read the Bible anymore, and don't need to seek help from my Father in Heaven. The same Anthony that was ready to cry on the first flight to Germany is the same Anthony that is now "so strong" that he no longer needs God... How arrogant of an asshole am I?

These are just some of the ways that I have become a worse person since my return. But I won't settle with this. The fact is, life at home is extremely different and troublesome. I don't want the world to see me because quite frankly: I know they won't understand. Everything feels like the movies, because by coming home to this "perfect" life I almost have to bleed to even feel alive. How could I feel alive now compared how alive I felt drawing near to God?

Africa was the closest to heaven that I will ever be, and when I draw close to God I know that somehow he will understand this emptiness I now feel. He will feel me somehow, when no one else can...

The world can see me, but only God will understand. There is just something that my friends and family is missing: My heart's desire. I can't describe the undying love I have for God's Kingdom, and somehow life corrupts these feelings and these desires. I am scared to be back home. Scared to wake up each morning, unable to push away the worldly responsibilities and desires enough to simply ask God, "Come into my life!" The world gets in our way...

It is so easy to go through life having missed the real importance of it all... I wish I had the courage to tell my friends and family how I really feel-- about this American life, about our "faith", about our religion, and about the wrong ways in which we live. But how can I talk about such things if I am now slowly coming back to them? How can I express my distress if I am now finding comfort in the same evil/worldly things as everyone else? How can I say, "We are living in an lie," if I once again begin lying to myself?

Lord help us all, Lord help me find the strength to live in the ways I know I should... My heart is breaking a little each day Lord...

Saying Goodbye

[Another African entry written on my last night in Moshi, before heading to the airport the next morning]

I feel as if it is my responsibility to now look back at my many experiences-- to reflect on my journey. I ask myself these questions: What have I learned, what have I seen, and how will it all change me? I am usually the first person to make total sense of my life, usually the first person to put words to my emotions, and usually the first person to take experiences and learn from them. But as I begin to clear my head, during each leg of the 3 day return home, I begin to realize only one thing: I am more confused about life now than I ever was before. 

It is ironic, I once knew someone faced with hidden questions and confusion following a life changing journey (probably issues similar to the ones I now am faced with). And I can only admit to a crazy and compelling confusion, now, of my very own. And I will fully admit to and relate to many consuming struggles... It is ironic that my struggles and confusion close a book in my life. I incidentally answered one question, and stumbled upon several more. 

I wish I knew more about God’s plan for the world. I wish that some issues across the globe (not just in Africa) could be changed. I wish learning to freely love God didn’t come at such a cost. I wish freely loving God was something that could come about simply by admiring all of His good nature. I wish we didn’t have to see what godlessness resembled in order to appreciate godliness in the first place. I wish that there wasn’t crime, corruption, greed, sickness, or pain. 

But without any of these things, these issues stemmed from evil, where would a Christian begin to act? If mothers weren’t dying from AIDS, where would all the Orphans be? If poverty didn’t exist, where would the rich distribute their wealth? If wives didn’t lose their husbands, how could we take care of widows? Without evil, how could we ever experience joy at its fullest?

Wow! Take one step back. Am I saying that I find joy in people’s sufferings? It will never be! Admittedly though, there is an incomprehensible satisfaction that comes with easing the burdens of another person. There is certain inexplainable happiness which can come from countering evil with the love of Christ. In that sense, bye reflecting (as best as I can) Jesus’s love onto the world, I have found a level of unmatchable joy. In being close to evils, I have come close to God. 

And though I wish that God would just rid this place of all of its sufferings, I get the point of it all. I get how the evil results of free-will can point a person to God. I get how  a life filled with suffering might point a person towards finding and loving God. I get how this opens up the door for others to partake in self sacrifice-- how someone might experience joy like God intended by making others more important than themselves. In some respects, I get what God is doing. 

This, however; is not a claim to be misunderstood. It is not to say that God wills suffering, or that he controls the bad things that happen to us. It only brings light to one area-- why he would let it continue. As I best understand it God allows suffering, in one way or another, so that we might see God’s light in the world’s darkness. And for me it has worked. I have met some of the most amazing and godly humans, all living in harsh circumstances. And I, personally, have grown to love the Lord even further. This much I have made sense of, but this is the easy part... And I understood this concept before, ever jumping into it first-hand. My understanding comes from the 2 Peter verse: 

 8 But do not forget this one thing, dear friends: With the Lord a day is like a thousand years, and a thousand years are like a day. 9 The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. Instead he is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance.

But here is what I don’t understand. I don’t understand what this all means for me. I don’t know where to go from here... 

I was a man with a plan. I was to get married after college, to go to medical school, to become a doctor, and to dedicate my life towards happily serving the world through some organization like Doctor’s Without Borders. Then I realized that I couldn’t handle loving a woman and God at the same time, I realized that (as it applies to my own nature) I could not balance loving both. No big deal, the plan was still going mostly as planned. And then I felt as if God was pushing me towards furthering my education by going to seminary school. So I was going to try and work it out so that I would somehow end up being both a Doctor of Medicine while having a Masters in Divinity. Great plan right? Then I could be an even better missionary doctor. Finally, I found myself inAfrica...

This trip was suppose to strengthen my plan. This trip was suppose to confirm that there was a huge need for doctors in other parts of the world. This trip was suppose to leave me relentlessly perusing my dream-- relentlessly working so that I could live according to plan. And then, in the middle of one beautiful African night, something hits me. A different plan. Only not a plan at all...

What if I came all the way to Africa in order for God to teach me one very simple thing? What if I traveled for 6 days, stayed for 44 nights, and stretched my comfort levels in order for God to teach me that I shouldn’t have a plan? What if I were coming back home “planning” to stop planning entirely? [that is such an awkward sentence]

It is a difficult concept, and against everything we are taught from day one. We are taught to look out for ourselves, to ensure our posterity, and to plan our futures. I can hardly imagine any parents reaction (much less my own) to their child telling them, “Mom, Dad... I don’t think I am going to go to Medical School. I don’t know if I even want to go to school after these next two years. I think I am just going to follow God. I think I am going to put my securities aside so that God may just lead me.”

Hardly what any parent wants to hear, much less anything that I would actually want to do. I often speak of pride, and here it will come up again. Pride is what always has separated me from God. Pride is what constantly pushes me towards having a plan. It is an inability to accept that maybe I won’t turn out to be something recognizable to the world. Pride tells me that I “have” to become something like a doctor. Pride tells me that I have to have a planned future, wealth, a wife, and success. 

And then there I am, one night, realizing that my plans are useless. What is a plan, be it even good in its Christian intentions, if it is thought out by humans? What can anything that I plan actually do to further God’s Kingdom? What good is this life if I am simply living the by my own will-- living by my plans and my rules? Honestly, it is worth nothing. 

This is difficult for me. Because I still would like to just “become a doctor”. I still would like to just “go to seminary school”. And maybe I will... But all of things sentences describe what I want. What about God? What does God want? How does God want to use me to further His Kingdom? How is God going to command His spiritual soldier into a “battle” against evil? How is God going to use me to show others His light?

So many questions, and it is so difficult for me not to go about answering them-- so incredibly troublesome for me to not have a “plan” of attack. But I believe that is why I came on this trip. I came to a place where I would have no choice but to turn to God, and this is what he showed me. Its ironic that it such a distance from home in order for me to learn this. And so often we hear people saying, “I am going to hand my life over to God,” but do we even know what that means? To hand your life over to God means not being comfortable, it means nothing will go as planned. I am done with plans... I am done trying to be in control...

I met a friend on this trip. I can say, with the utmost confidence, that this will be a friend that will never leave me. I know we are going to stay close for the rest of our lives. This friend, though I have only known them for less than two months, knows me better than anyone else ever has-- totally understands me, my strengths, my weaknesses, and  my heart’s desires. I met the Holly Spirit... 

I leave Africa more confused than ever: Questioning my future, questioning the world, and questioning my place in it. But I am going to turn my life over regardless, I am going to come back home tied at the waist with my “best friend”, I am going to hand my life over to God. 

By my own plans I will accomplish little. But by God’s I may accomplish a lot. And by accomplishment I only mean what is seen in the eyes of God, not society. I will be praying for the Spirit to guide me in ever step that I take. This will mean drastic measures, decisions that will not necessarily (I imagine) be accepted well by society, friends, or my family... But what is life if it is not lived entirely for God and by God’s will?

In closing I say a prayer, the words of which are half taken from a song (and I have no idea who sings it), but it is one hundred percent applicable to my feelings and current needs:

The wind is moving, but I am standing still. A life of pages, waiting to be filled. A heart that is hopeful, a head that is full of dreams. But this becoming is harder than it seems. Feels like I’m looking for a reason, roaming through the night to find my place in this world. Not a lot to lean on, I need your light to help me find my place in this world...

Father, let me put my pride aside. Let me hear your voice. Let your will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Let your will be done in my life as you see it fit, give me the strength to put my desires and pride aside in order to pursuit your Kingdom with complete relentlessness. I love you Aba. 

Questions on Death

[I wrote this entry into my journal a few weeks before I left Africa, but I was not able to get it online until now]

I have never been one to let death affect me severely. Be it a guinea pig, a cat, a dog, or a person-- I have never been too emotional. Death, with a Christian view, is almost a celebration. In a perfect world people would celebrate death: Remembering accomplishments and complete selflessness in a person’s life, and recognizing a person’s moving on to eternity in heaven. I realize, however; that this does not always apply. I realize that we can never know, with absolute certainty, where a person will be in eternity. And often we cannot look back at a person’s life fully able to celebrate their accomplishments or Christ-like deeds. Even still, I tend to be most unaffected by death. I must admit, on a side note, that I have only dealt with death with limited experience. I have never lost a direct family member, nor a best friend. When death surprises us, I realize the emotions can immensely grow. The same can be said about the death of a person particularly close to us. I would imagine that I would spend years mourning the death of a friend, family member, or spouse. The point of my writing is not to “brag” about how I can keep my emotions about me while dealing with death. I fully admit that I have been lucky, at least so far, to not experience much pain in the form of loss. And I fully admit, though I have been strong with my experiences so far, I certainly could quickly become one to be very emotional. No, I am not trying to say I am stronger than the next person. In fact, I bring up death for a completely different reason. 

I need to express myself, in terms of death, in order to lift some weight off of my heart. Though I am usually strong with death, I have finally cracked this trip. I will never lose the image of the lady that came into the hospital today. Her cold and lifeless body laying on the stretcher, shook me to the core. I had seen many dying (or dead) people already during these few weeks. Most of which were seen in one of the 6 wards of the hospital, people already admitted. In the U.S. these people would have been placed in a hospice, but there is no such place here. Their death, slow and foreseen to come shortly, did not bother me in the same way. But then something clicked. 

When this lady was rolled into the hospital completely uncovered; not one person raised an eye brow, turned their heads, or even said a word. You would think that a community of hospital visitors would be bothered by such a thing? But it gets better. She was wheeled into the “Minor Theater”, the hospitals small and sketchy room to dress wounds. That is where one of the Doctors and I were waiting. In fact, there were about 8 of us in the room. A kid getting his finger stitched, one other doctor, and a few nurses. She came into the room so that a doctor could confirm her death. I saw him lift up her eye lids revealing dilated pupils. I saw him try for a few minutes to find a pulse. And I saw him listen to the lifeless heart and breathless lungs. The doctor looked at his watch, placed a small linen over her face, and then said a few words (in Swahili) to the nurse who brought this lady in. At first, I did not think she was dead. It was too calm in the room, too calm in the hospital, and the staff was equally too calm. Needless to say, I wasn’t expecting a panic or tears, but maybe some kind of mourning. Even a sigh or deep breath would have been nice. But there was nothing. Come to find out this lady had worked at the hospital-- she was a friend, a companion, a co-worker. 

I consider myself to be strong when it comes to handling death, but even I have this cold feeling that comes over me when I witness such a thing. I mention my “strength” in handling death, only to bring to focus how much stronger African people are in respect to death. Even another volunteer, even more used to the feeling (from a medical side), admitted the same thing: No matter how many times you see death there is always a feeling of sadness that comes over you. But this was not the case in the hospital. A friend and co-worker came through that door lifeless-- and they did not so much as sigh. And then I realized, that had been the case with every instance of death here. Even the families handled the deaths of loved ones in a similar way. Are they that stoic, or that familiar with loss? 

I lost it, thoughts started racing through my head. Is death that common? Where people are hardly fazed by it anymore... Can people actually become desensitized to death? I ran into the bathroom about to puke into the hole in the ground. I cannot get the images out of my head, I cannot eat, and I am overwhelmed by certain burdens from some of the sites I have seen. Perhaps these people have a hope in afterlife much stronger than any of us imagine. Or perhaps death is that common... I have no answers,  but I fear the latter of the two. And with this mindset; there is no bright outlook and no lesson here to learn. Just a weight to get off of my heart... God bless these people who experience loss, and have mercy on them as they come knocking on Heaven’s doors. 

I have three more weeks in Tanzania, and I feel as if there is an immense amount of Good that can still be done. But I cannot carry a smile anymore, and I need to gather my thoughts. What many Christians fail to remember is the concept of renewal. Repairing something that is worn out-- in the Christian case, being spiritually repaired by way of the Holly Spirit. Just like you sleep and eat in order to rebuild your body in a physical sense, you must also renew your mind. The circumstances of this trip have made me focus vigorously on God. Constantly thinking in terms of my faith, constantly diving into the scriptures, and constantly praying. Realistically, however; how long can you sprint before you must stop and place your hands over your head? How long can you run after God before you have pushed your mental capacity? Even God, after taking 6 “days” to make the universe, decided to rest on the seventh day. Renewal of the body and of the mind is one hundred percent Biblical. From the top of my head (to back this claim  up), it is said: The Sabbath day was made for man, man was not made for the Sabbath day. God wanted us to rest our bodies and to renew our minds. And that is exactly what I plan on doing. I am running away from Moshi, hopefully heading somewhere at the coast of Tanzania. Hopefully I come back having been eased in my heart, mind, and soul...

A Retrograded Life

It is only fitting for me to express some of my travel related feelings. At times I am left speechless, warrantless in my efforts to attempt doing any good. There is an obvious and sad relation between the amount of worldly suffering and my selfishness. I will start this entry out with a short poem:

I Keep Denying a Selfless Love for Christ!

How could 

I Lean on God’s understanding?

I have my future planned because 

My own success and popularity

Is far more consequential than 

Reflecting the charity of Jesus Christ

My calm, objective opinion states this:

The world knows love and compassion?

This is can be no longer true

This is a broken and helpless place, with a binding pain

Onlookers see that

I am lonely, spiritually lost, and empty

I do not believe

I will step outside of the selfish norm

In these moments

I conform to fit into society’s box

From others’ perspectives it cannot be stated that

I live for a purpose other than myself 

It has become obvious to everyone around me that 

I am selfish, self righteous, and worth something to the world. 

It would be outlandish to consider that

I can live a life with Godly purpose...

Where did they go wrong, and where did I go right? Why are they so unlucky, and me so lucky? How can living conditions there be so bad, and so good at home? These are the questions that haunt anyone who has ever seen suffering...

By virtue of our families we have ended up in a certain living situation. We had no choice in the matter. In the womb, we were still sinless in the eyes of God: One cannot deduce that we did anything to deserve our placement on this earth (be it good or bad). Because of the fact that at birth we have had no such opportunities to “deserve” one thing over the other, we do nothing to “deserve” worldly placement. Sometimes people say that the actions of our ancestors (be them either sinful or good in nature) laid the foundation for our life experiences. This is to say that we control the destiny of our grandchildren long before they are born. It is a “karma” type of attitude. If I live as a good samaritan, then my kids and grandkids will be rewarded by God. On the flip side if I am a terrible person then my family to come will have bad misfortune. Arguments such of these are asinine. 

It is not to take credit away from our respective parents and grandparents. When there is a parent that worked three jobs (so that his kid could one day go to college) this certainly is an example of past actions laying down a promising future for younger family members. And if my great grandparents left their home country so that their kids (and their grandkids etc) could have certain opportunities in the US, then this is another example. This has nothing in common with karma or “having bad misfortune due to you”. And though we MUST be thankful for what had been given to us by other humans (our family especially), another question exists. See parents and grandparents can take action to ensure certain blessings and good fortune for their kids, but this factor only indirectly involves us. 

I mentioned that at birth we are essentially sinless in nature. At birth we (as our own individual being) have done nothing to deserve (for ourselves) certain bad misfortune. Nor have we worked towards deserving any certain good misfortunes. We did nothing to deserve being placed into a “good” or “bad” situation. We did nothing to inherit the blessings laid down by our ancestors. What did I do to deserve being born into a loving family? The answer is nothing. There can be actions which are done in order to give thanks for these gifts (like loving and helping out my family), but there can never be any original reason for being born into it in the first place. I believe fully in free will, I believe we have the freedom (at least apart from any Godly control) to make or break our own lives at any small or extreme level. But the only place that free will does not come into play is birth. None of us, at any point, had the choice as to whether or not we even wanted to enter this world. Certainly we did not have the choice to pick what family we would be born into, what country, what state, or in what city. Take it a step further-- we had no choice as to whether or not we would be healthy, no choice as to what we would look like, no choice in what hour strengths would be, and no choice as to what our weaknesses would be.

The new born baby at this Tanzanian hospital did not chose to have congenital limb diseases. Amed, an orphan at Psamaria, did not chose to be born into a home where his mom would pour boiling water on him (in two instances). This happened at the age of four, but at birth he certainly did not ask for such parents. I could go on and on... Anyone who has traveled outside of the western countries has surely seen similar things (my experiences are not special). In fact, you CAN find a similar story a block away from your own house (regardless of where you live). The point is simple, we do not have the freedom to chose the situations we are born into. I battle with this idea all of the time. I constantly wonder, “God, why did you bless me with so much?” 

The worst instance is when a person does not even realize how blessed they are. When they do not ask these kind of questions. It is a topic for discussion at another time, I am only going to focus on the realization itself. It is a perplexing thought, one which usually leads a person down a dark road. In my experiences, seeing other people who have witnessed suffering in the world, it leads to a feeling of guilt. It would be easy for me to feel guilty going back home and sleeping in a warm house. It would be easy for me to feel guilty every time I spend excess money on junk food (especially considering I probably wasn’t even hungry). And it would be easy for me to beat myself up for having a good living situation when others do not. Sounds far fetched, but I have seen in countless times. It drives a person towards near craziness accounting for all of there blessings, especially when they compare what they have to what others do not. And we will never escape that question: Why were we so blessed?

I cannot answer that question. It goes in a category of questions that only God will be able to shed light onto. I cannot answer that question! However, I can shift the perspective on the matter. I have made a realization that some do not. Living amongst suffering has actually made me begin to feel sorry for those who live WITHOUT suffering. It is an Ephesians mind set, where blessed are the poor in spirit. 

I would rather live in a shack outside of Moshi than to live at 4848 S. Xenophon St! I would rather lose everything on this earth than to lose my soul. And that brings me to the most important part... These people who suffer, these people who are dying from AIDS, these people who cannot feed themselves (let alone a baby), these people that don’t even have drinking water-- all of these people have been blessed with a unique opportunity to turn to God. Finding God, when your life is in shambles, is almost as easy as following the exit signs in a theater. You almost have to hope in eternal life if you cannot have hope on this earth. 

I do not wish to lesson the severity of what some unfortunate people experience, believe me my heart breaks for such experiences. But I also cannot deny a huge difference in the character of these people versus what I see at home. Yes these people suffer in many respects-- yet they are all so happy, so loving, so kind, so thankful, and even extremely generous. There is almost a direct correlation between the amount of experienced pain and how big a person’s heart is. And these people, on the inside, have something which is unbelievably special. Something that more blessed people at home lack. It is as if they accept their pain, and therefore look to God for an extreme and unimaginable level of hope. 

But when you can find hope in material things, in a 401K, or in a trust fund-- you have no reason to ever turn to God. Poor living conditions do not exactly make finding God obvious, but it makes it easier. And living in Denver does not exactly mean you can’t reach a point where you only find hope in eternal life. But this train of thought only addresses the mindset where you feel bad for people living in poorer places. My heart goes out to all of these people who suffer, it really does. But with a long term view I do not feel bad for those who suffer IF it ends up bringing them to find God. A short life (relative to eternity) of suffering is ideal if it leads to Heaven. I don’t think we should feel ENTIRELY bad for these people. I think we should pray that they may find hope in their sufferings. I think we should pray that good could come out of the bad. And I think we should do missions work to insure that it is the God of the Bible that they turn to for hope (over any other deity).And I think we should sort of start to feel sorry for ourselves...

Only sorry in this case does not have anything to do with living conditions. Sorry involves the way in which we go about putting off God. Sorry involves distractions, and the things that we focus on rather than the big picture. It is easy to see why Jesus said it is easier for a camel to walk through the eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven. Here is a reality check, everyone in the U.S is rich! EVERYONE! Even a homeless man makes enough money begging on a corner to be considered rich. I feel bad for all of us because our journey towards God is so much more difficult. 

It is difficult to have God cross your mind when you go to bed with no worries. It is difficult to truly Love God when you REALLY love your comforts, popularity, and success. I feel bad for all of us (this includes me) because our journey of faith is so much harder. And here comes the next reality check. The odds are high that many will still call themselves Christians and still firmly believe they have a sure place in heaven. But how easy is it to Love a God that takes care of you? How easy is it to love God when he blesses you with all of these worldly comforts? How easy is it to love God when he gives you EVERYTHING? The answer: It is TOO easy!And that is the point. Its no wonder so many Americans call themselves Christians. We have it “made”-- blessings on earth and a “for sure” seat in heaven. We can sit on our couch watching TV every night, then go be in Heaven when it is all done. We can have a worry free prayer life that consists of mostly giving thanks to God. And we can enjoy worldly comforts looking ahead to promises of heavenly comforts. Or can we? It is easy to Love God when your life is easy... 

It is even harder to love God when you have to rationalize how a loving God could ever allow deformities, illness, pain, and suffering. But if, given these sad circumstances, you can still find a love for God; then surely this is approaching genuine love for God. 

I do not mean to make light of anyone’s circumstances at home, but our lives are not bad. If you think your life is bad, I can assure you there is someone who’s “story” is much worse. And that person can find someone who’s story is even worse. Etc, etc, etc. 

This brings us to the next point, where we speak of genuine love for God. I assert again that I feel bad for “us”, bad for Americans (or anyone living in a blessed country). I feel bad because it feels as if Americans either never find God or they never start to genuinely love Him. I feel even worse for Christians who think that they love God, when really they don’t. And I am no judge, it is not to say that I can dictate whether this statement is actually true in any particular case. Still there are certain evidences in our lives which point me to absolutely believing this is true. Perhaps even in my own life. I live, and have lived, in constant fear of reaching judgement day. I fear that I will make my case, saying I did all of these great things in Jesus’s name, and then God will say: “I never knew you!”

That is my fear-- for me, for you, for us. 

Still my complaints go on. If you think I am done, having reached a point where I criticize our lives in only one facet, you are wrong. Sometimes people do realize how tremendously hard it is to follow God while living with all of our blessings. Sometimes people realize that they need to “sell everything” and take up their cross. And this mind set is one hundred percent Biblical. I admire anyone who’s faith brings them to such a point. This can be seen in many forms. Like living your life volunteering across the world, or by literally selling all of your stuff and giving away all of your riches in the name of Christ. But being the constant thinker that I am, I come back to that one question: Why were we born with such blessings?

Again I can not answer it. But I do believe that there is a responsibility with having certain blessings. I believe that we should take our blessings and use them in a way that makes the most of them. I believe we should accept God’s gifts, but not settle with having them simply for or own pleasures. I believe, as an overly blessed child, that it is my responsibility to take these blessings and to give them back one hundred fold. 

I am not going to sell all of my things. I am not going to feel guilty sleeping on a tempor-pedic mattress. But I am also not going to settle. I am going to take everything that I have been given and I am going to do something HUGE for God. Perhaps I was born into a great family, with great opportunities, so that I could become a Doctor who opens up free clinics across the world. Perhaps I can use wealth and education to my advantage in order to do HUGE things for God, rather than myself. If blessings are a responsibility, and if God has invested into me, than I am going to make sure He gets a HUGE return on his investment. I am going to take what I have been given, and give back far more. I don’t know why I was given so much, but I know the the good that I can make come out of my situation. The key is to not settle. The key is to live up to the challenge. The key is to make it so that a “rich man” enters into Heaven. The key is to not let God down. The key is to MAKE THE MOST OUT OF WHAT  YOU HAVE. The key is to recognize your blessings, and to give back EVERYTHING. If God invested a little into me, then I am going to return those gifts and then some. 

I refuse to feel guilty for my blessings. Instead I feel burdened. As if God blessed me so that I could make selfless gifts exponentially grow. As if “richness” is actually God inviting me to do amazing things in order to further His kingdom. Can this be done in my lifetime without me loving the blessings themselves? Can I genuinely love the Blesser over the blessings? For some the answer here is no, and they will sell everything and join the peace core (and this is a beautiful undertaking). As for me, I believe that a camel can walk through the eye of a needle. I believe that I can take my blessings and multiply them-- giving back to countless others what God first gave to me. This is easy in theory, it is easy to write about, but the life journey will be no easy task. 

In that sense, I am beyond thankful for this trip already. I cannot claim that it has opened my eyes to suffering, I was already aware of such cases. It has, however; confirmed this whisper I have been hearing. This voice in the back of my head saying, “Go, go and selflessly live to do great things for God’s people; go selflessly love like My Son!” I am going to lean on God’s understanding, because I have too many questions to ever lean on my own. Though I don’t know why I was so blessed, I am going to further His Kingdom with everything that I have been given. This world is a broken place only if you miss out on Christ-like love, compassion, and charity. Sure, nothing human can be done to fix such a broken world, but something human can be done to change it. However small...  

In closing, this entry was titled “A Retrograded Life” in order to highlight our (often) backwards view on suffering, pain, comfort, charity, and Christianity. I wrote a poem expressing my once dull emotions towards a broken world. I go back to having those sort of feelings from time to time. Drawing close to God in Africa has also brought me to a changing of the heart. I have shared these feelings already... This poem, however; embodies this transformation. It embodies this idea: That a true Christian life is one that society views as being seemingly backwards (or retrograded). This poem represents the changing of my hardened heart. This is the exact same poem. Only now I ask you to read it backwards. I ask you to read it starting with the bottom line, followed by the second to last, the third to last, etc... 

I Keep Denying a Selfless Love for Christ?

How could 

I Lean on God’s understanding!

I have my future planned because 

My own success and popularity

Is far more consequential than 

Reflecting the charity of Jesus Christ

My calm, objective opinion states this:

The world knows love and compassion!

This can be no longer true

This is a broken and helpless place, with a binding pain

Onlookers see that

I am lonely, spiritually lost, and empty

I do not believe

I will step outside of the selfish norm

In these moments

I conform to fit into society’s box

From others’ perspectives it cannot be stated that

I live for a purpose other than myself 

It has become obvious to everyone around me that 

I am selfish, self righteous, and worth something to the world 

It would be outlandish to consider that

I can live a life with Godly purpose 

Africa 4

A couple of days ago I met a kind man as we both were walking. I pretty much have conversation with ten to twenty different people a day. Usually it only involves very basic “small talk” in Swahili. This man, much to my surprise, spoke very good English. I informed him of my project here, and he said I am welcome to His "hosue" (if that is what you want to call them) at anytime. After saying this, he introduced me to his wife, and pointed in the general area of the house. I thought nothing of it. I did, however; notice that he was Muslim. His wife said nothing to me, and was dressed so that only her eyes could be seen, and he was wearing that “hat thing” (sorry if that offends anyone, I have no idea what those are called). That was all that our conversation amounted to.

Today, he drove past me on his Motorcycle. He slammed on the brakes, and yelled over to me, “Mambo!” When I approached him, he asked when I would be coming over to his house. We made a time for next Thursday, and I got his phone number this time. 

I had already had a few casual drinks with my Muslim friend Moe in Germany, and now I am having dinner with this man in a week. This is exciting to me, two people of different religions being able to kindly interact. My faith is completely out in the open too. I by no means (here especially) wear huge “Jesus pieces” while going around telling the world that I love Jesus. But I also am not ashamed to bring it up relatively quick in conversation, and I have thus far. I am not one to stereotype Muslims as being radical, heartless, and evil people. I am smart enough to realize that this is just a stupid stereotype describing a radical few. None-the-less, I am still happy at the fact that we can coexist. I hope to have some meaningful conversation with him over dinner, I am curious to see where our speech leads...

These are exactly the kind of experiences I was looking for, this is why I am here.  My hospital work starts Monday and I cannot wait... 

Africa 3

Tonight I left the safe house at around 5:30 to go for a nice walk in the outskirts of Moshi. I crossed one of the main roads (a small but very dangerous two lane “highway”) and continued walking to the Moshi Gardens. On my way, I noticed the loud sound of some music. Three-hundred feet later I realized where the music was coming from, a very small building to my left. Yet another three-hundred feet and I noticed a small cross at the top of this building. Being the weirdly curious Christian that I am, I decided to poke my head in. Even getting near to the building I was laughed at by a lot of the people surrounding it. Four kids that were playing by the church wouldn’t even return my high-fives or greetings (very-untypical of the Tanzanian people). I understood right away that this church wasn’t exactly the most popular place to be. This was slightly confusing to me considering that so many of the people here are Christian (45% by the almanac and internet accounts that I have seen). 

When I finally walked in I sat down immediately, almost right next to the door. All twenty (give or take a few) of the people noticed my presence immediately, and I was stared at for the next half hour. This bothered me not. I took my hat off (I was wearing the same raggedy clothes that I had been since I arrived, and everyone was dressed quite nicely by African standards). I put my hands together in a praying form, and placed them on the bench so that perhaps my body language would imply that I was a believer. The people were singing and dancing their hearts out. One girl in particular, the singer, nearly cried singing every song. Her voice was BEAUTIFUL, and the passion that she sang with only added to the quality of her praise. At one point the power went out in the building, yet she continued to sing-- her voice carried with immense strength and beauty even without the PA. I was taken back by it all. I had no idea what they were saying or singing, for all I know they could have been worshipping demons. But the feeling in that room did not give me that impression. It is written in Matthew, “Where two or three people gather in my name, I [God] too will be there,” and I could undoubtably feel God’s unique presence in that church. 

When the singing and dancing started, one man started walking around to each of the people. After passing about three or four people, I noticed the fifth one handing him a few coins. Coins, when you are using Tanzanian currency, range from a dollar value of $0.02 to a few rare ones worth about $0.20 (even in Tanzania they are hardly of value). So after two or three of them gave their spare change, I assume the donations added up to no more than 1000 shillings (two-thirds of a dollar). Before offering ended, I very slowly approached the stage. I put my head down, and gave my offering. Me telling you that does not have the purpose of raising up my name-- I am not trying to make a point as to how “generous” I was because I came into a church as a stranger and still gave money. Granted I gave from a sincere place of my heart, my donation had other intentions. My thoughts at the time were simple: 1) God is present here, and this is beautiful-- I will support this cause. 2) If I gave to the church then perhaps the people would welcome me in and understand that my purpose was to join their worshiping of God. I turned around after I put my money in the hands of the pastor, and slowly walked back to my lonely corner in the back of the church. As I started walking back, my strides were met with the loud clapping and screaming of everyone in the building, I couldn’t help but to smile. 

Following the offering they did one more song, during which time the pastor came and sat with me. He was fluent in English, the most educated man I have met on this trip to date. He asked where I was from, and explained a little bit about the church and the service. He then asked me to come up and say a few words. When this happened, he translated my words. I nervously said:

“Hello, my name is Anthony (only in Tanzania I pronounce it An-tone-eee because it is easier form them to say). I am from America (amer-eee-ka). I live in a place called Colorado, where we have many mountains like Kilimanjaro. I was walking to go to Moshi-Town when I heard your beautiful music. Praising God is a universal language that everyone can understand regardless of where they are from, and your worship is beautiful. I love Tanzania, and your people are most welcoming. Thank you for your kindness, thank you for accepting me into your country, and thank you for having me today. God is great, and he loves us all. Thank you.”

I was only asked to introduce myself, otherwise I would have said more. Still the applause and smiles on their faces informed me that my words were taken to kindly. Afterwords I was asked by the pastor to come back Saturday, when they do their “real” and “big” service. Apparently this was just a midweek “fun” gathering? I will be going back every Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday. I was certainly blessed to have this experience, I am excited to see where these relationships will go. If a voice in the back of your head tells whispers, “Go,” then I advice you to follow it. You never know where God will lead you. I went out that night just to take in God’s artwork-- the beauty of the area and of the mountains. And I came back with that and more...