Losing

In April 2015, I traveled to Kenya for the first time. I don’t know about you, but I am always amazed at human ingenuity every time I fly. I cannot help but think of the creativity, the drive, and the intelligence of those who contributed to flight. The complexity of All these different individuals and resources coming together to produce technology that allows others to travel across the world in hours! So, during my trip, I found myself sitting over the northern Atlantic, reading signs in Arabic and English and amazed at the thought of flying across the world in luxury. Only a century before a trip of this size would have taken several months, if not a year to accomplish; and that would have been only one way! 

The months prior to my trip to Kenya had been a whirlwind. Writing letters, raising support, emailing back and forth with contacts in Kenya, texts and phone calls with the team leader in the States, etc….. Not to mention working full time and finishing up my last semester of graduate school. Along with that, I was prepping for the mission trip by writing sermons, spending time in prayer, and trying to discover all I could about travelling to Kenya. Needless to say, reading the travel warnings as you register with the US Embassy will make you want to stay at home.

*taken with Iphone 4S, baby!

As I sat looking out the window at the clouds over the Arabian Ocean on the second leg of my trip, I imagined all the new experiences I would have over the next 10 days. I would make new friends, see new places, eat new foods, learn about a different culture, and EXPLORE! (Did I mention that I was excited?!) As I thought about it, I could not wait to land, and I certainly could not sleep. (Or maybe that was the excellent coffee I had a few hours earlier.)

"Stirred, not shaken."

This trip was the culmination of several months’ work on my end. Not only had I spent time preparing sermons, I had also spent a lot of time raising support. (That’s a nice way to say that I was fundraising.) As I contacted people and advertised on social media, I was hoping that funds would be provided. Not to say that I didn’t invest in this trip from my own money, but I didn’t have a few grand lying around to immediately pay my way. While I was advertising the trip, several friends wrote in support, letting me know they had made a contribution and would be praying for me. (For which I am extremely thankful!)  Most of the messages were very similar, “Praying for you!” “Somebody made a donation, but I don’t know who…” “Let me know how the trip goes!” and so on.  However, one friend brought up an old memory that I had not thought of in years. This particular friend has travelled all over the world on short-term mission trips, and reminded me of a statement I had made in my younger days about not wanting to go on mission trips  because I couldn’t see myself not sleeping under the Texas flag.

That particular message came to mind as I sat miles above the Arabian Ocean, listening to the soft roar of the engines and looking into the dark sky. I laughed to myself as I thought how much I have changed in those short fifteen years. Back in the day I thought I was sacrificing a lot to follow Christ- giving up status, the freedom to do as I pleased, like smoking a Marlboro and have a cold Colorado Kool-Aid. That was also when I had a real “salvation by works” mentality, even though I didn’t know it. Compared to others who have lost family, jobs, friends, or freedom, I gave up almost nothing to follow Jesus. Even during the time I was prepping for the trip, There were some  who didn’t understand what I was doing. Giving up vacation time to go on a mission trip? Spending my own money to teach and preach? Missing my brother in law’s wedding? Leaving my wife and family alone for two weeks?

All of those are fair questions to ask, and rightly considered sacrifices. As I thought about the questions I had been asked, the small sacrifices I had made, I thought, “What am I really going to lose? From a completely secular perspective, I am going to teach and empower others to contribute to their societies in even greater ways than they already were. I would contribute to human flourishing. From a Christian perspective, I was following Jesus’ commission to go and make disciples. (It’s always smart to do what the boss says.)

(This image may or may not look like the real thing!)

In 1 Corinthians 3, Paul writes that he and Apollos (preachers of the gospel) are “co-laborers” with God, then goes on to state that the members of the church are part of a temple that they are building for God. Paul shifts the emphasis from himself and Apollo to the audience, stating that every Christian’s work will be tested, and they will be rewarded for that which survives. Think about this for a moment- Paul writes that he and Apollos (preachers of the gospel) are “co-laborers” with God, then goes on to state that the members of the church are a temple that they are building for God. As we participate in the spread of the Gospel, we too are acting as co-laborers with God.  As Christians proclaim the gospel to others, they are building a temple for God, a temple that consists of fellow believers (at this point, the word “Church” should be bouncing around in your brain).

Just as Paul and Apollos were preaching and teaching, I would be preaching and teaching, joining God in his work of building his temple. (disclaimer: I, in no uncertain terms, am not claiming to be an apostle, nor the stud preacher that Paul was.) Not only that, I would be travelling to a new land to do so. (Kind of like Jesus did when he came to Earth as a man.) That work will stand the test of eternity, and I will be rewarded for my work.

Maybe I'm not the one who's losing.

Left of the dealer

        Growing up, we played a lot of cards. By "played a lot of cards," I mean, A LOT. I have found memories of many nights at my grandmother's kitchen table, drinking coke over crushed ice in her green cut-glass cups, eating snacks, and staying up way later than any second grader should. Those nights of competition, laughter, and bonding continued through the tumultuous teen years and even into college. Nana shared so much of her home and life with all of us, family and friends.

       It’s amazing how many life lessons we learned around Nana’s table. We learned that a little competition never hurt anyone, that you should stay focused on the game, laugh a lot, be a good loser (and winner), and always be ready to play. Now, my niece, nephew, and own children are old enough to begin playing games with us. We are passing the torch of family, camaraderie, and learning to be good sports on to the next generation, just as Nana passed it on to us.

       A few months ago, I went on a mission trip to Kenya. It wasn’t my first time to travel internationally, but it was my first time to travel to a third world country. It was also the farthest I have traveled in my life. The journey to Kenya began in Dallas, TX and had two legs; DFW to Dubai International Airport, then Dubai to Nairobi. When I met my teammates the morning of our flight, I was excited. I knew communication might be sparse, but was confident in my safety and my return. While I would not have cell service once I left the plane, I was informed that I would have wifi in Dubai and could contact my family then.

       When we boarded our first flight, I was a little disappointed I would not be sitting with my friends, but not too disappointed because I had great leg room! After a fifteen hour flight, we landed in Dubai in the middle of the day. While signs were in English, I stuck closely by Richmond and Kevin, both veteran travelers. I made sure to follow where they went, say what they said, unload the same things from my luggage, and mimic their actions. After we passed through security and were sitting in the terminal, I pulled out my phone and turned it on. I was ready to talk to my wife and daughter! Unfortunately, the free wifi offered in the Dubai airport was so slow that I couldn’t even get a text through, much less a call. I was a little disappointed, but the excitement of being in a new place and culture overrode any disappointment.

       After a quick meal, we made our way to our gate for boarding. We still had plenty of time, but my travelling companions wanted to go on and wait for boarding. I was not sure how much food I would have for the next ten days in Kenya, so I decided to fill myself up even more and have a smoothie while we waited. I watched as Richmond and Kevin went through the security checkpoint, made my way back up to the main terminal area, and found the smoothie shop. I had some trouble with communication as I ordered my smoothie, but didn’t think too hard about it.

As I walked back to the gate, sipping my smoothie, I looked around at all the different signs and languages, and began to feel a little lost. I went down through the gate to the waiting area for boarding, and Richmond and Kevin were gone. I walked up to the counter, and a stewardess with a heavy accent pointed down the walkway. I looked at the rack of Arabic newspapers that I could not read at all, and a small voice in the back of my head wondered if I was getting on the correct plane. I walked down the ramp, and came to a fork. I had never seen that before. The little voice spoke more loudly that time, but I walked on. I entered the plane, and the stewardess greeted me, looked at my boarding pass, and directed me to the back. The plane was not full, but there were no other American passengers. I had to tell myself that I was on the correct flight or else the stewardess would not have let me on.

 Finally, as I walked into the far rear section of the plane, I saw two heads sticking up over the seats with blond and black hair, and recognized my travelling companions. The near panic attack was averted, and I settled into my seat like an old pro. I looked at the seat in front of me, and saw the instructions in Arabic where I would normally see English, and the thought settled in that I was for sure going somewhere that I couldn’t get around without depending on someone else! As the plane took off and reached cruising speed, I reached into my backpack to find something to read. I had brought along Defying Isis (believe me, the irony did not escape me as I saw the flight path skirt around Yemen and Somalia).

                       

          After a few hours of flight, I got up to move around and step into the restroom. Maybe I never paid attention before, or maybe it was the fact that I was feeling very out of place, but I had a small panic when the lavatory light didn’t turn on when I closed the door. I stood in the dark for a moment, thinking, “I’m lost!”  until reason asserted itself and I pushed the door open to look for a light switch. That’s when a stewardess informed me that I had to close the latch for the light to come on. (I took some comfort in the fact that I wasn’t the only one who couldn’t figure out how to turn on the light if she had to tell me without my asking.)

        For the rest of the flight, I sat looking at the maps on the screen in front of me, the people around me, and watching the ocean and land out the window. I reflected on the loss of contact and familiarity. Richmond and Kevin seemed so confident and knew their way around. I had to remind myself that they had been to Kenya several times, and traveled internationally a lot, unlike little old me. I told myself, for the first time of many times, that thousands of people do this every day, traveling around the world. Most travel as individuals, and they make it there and back. If they did, I could, too.

       We landed in Nairobi and deplaned, and the next step of my journey began. Over the next week and a half, I would change locations many times, traveling with others that I didn’t know, even separating from my friends for a few days and traveling off into the bush alone. Many times, I would start to get nervous as I realized that I didn’t speak the language, know the customs, and wasn’t too sure about my sense of direction and location in a foreign country. I would remind myself many times that God had called me there, and whatever happened, I was in his hands. Obviously, I made it back, or I wouldn’t be sitting here writing about my experience. (More details to come!)

       Everywhere I went, I traveled with a guide who knew their way around, spoke the language, and helped me learn the local customs and ways. Each person taught me more than I could teach them, and I am glad that I had the opportunity to travel to Kenya. Next time, I will know the ropes, and travelling will be much easier. As a matter of fact, I plan to invite others to go with me so I can show them the ropes!

       In card games, the first player sits to the left of the dealer. Someone has to go first, then others join the game. When will it be your turn?