"Suit up soldier, We're going to Egypt!"
It's a picture etched in my mind;
God standing there, speaking to my heart and myself eagerly nodding.
I got here to Egypt and dove into things just as eagerly as when I left home,
Things worked, weeks flew by, but I grew tired.
Nothing had changed to my work load, and while yes, it is a challenging place to live sometimes, Egypt itself hadn't changed any since I'd been here.
I got frustrated, I got angry with myself.
I continued to trudge through, not knowing why this tiredness was happening or what had caused it.
I failed to fully recognize that when God sent me here, He didn't send me alone.
I began to grow tired because I was fighting through things under my own strength alone.
Looking back at the picture now, I hear the words, "WE'RE going in."
I hang my head in shame, stupidly I had jumped the gun.
I forgot one of the most important truths of my faith, God is always with me.
I broke ranks, and as soon as I did, I was surrounded, exposed and outnumbered.
Our God is a God that lets us learn our lessons,
He doesn't let us take on more then we can bear.
Our God is great.
Just when I felt helpless, I realized why.
With my mind focused on God's strengths and truths the fighting got easier.
Nothing compares to Gods strength, darkness cowers at His voice.
God has been fighting here much longer than I have,
He has been using others in more powerful ways then I could have imagined,
and that Truth is humbling.
God has lifted my up and set me on a rock now,
I'm spending time with Him and learning more about His character as I do so.
As I spend some time reflecting I go back again to the picture of God instructing me.
"Suit up soldier, We're going in!"
I was suited up, I was strong, but when I stumbled, I found the holes in my armor,
The things I thought were hidden became my weakest points.
With God at my side, I have started on re-crafting my armor.
As part of my internship here, it was required that each of us take "Cell Pastor Training."
A course which focus' on raising up cell group leaders for the purpose of leading new church cells.
An aspect of the church which works on the Upward, Inward, Outward and Forward life of the church body.
Through my time in the course and through this newly focused time with God,
He has made it blatantly clear to me that I need to start a young mens study group within the refugee schools here.
The weakness that have been exposed are those that every young man struggles with on some level and with the insight and training that God has been granted me through this experience.
In no way am I set apart for this task, in no way do I have all the answers, but I have some experiences, some mistakes others can learn from.
The goal will be to provide a group in which these young men will feel comfortable in talking about the challenges they are wrestling with and through God's word and body, find restoration and a battle plan against that.
This time I suit up in confidence, with careful consideration for my weak points and a knowledge that God is fighting with me.
Thank you to you Jehovah-Nissi, The banner I carry forward.
Thank you to you Jehovah Shammah, The Lion at my side.
Onwards and Forwards,
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
Wednesday, 28 November 2007
Sunday, 4 November 2007
The Lonely Wanderers
Welcome back to Egypt,
Allow me to set the scene.
The unforgiving Summer sun has given way to it's meeker Fall counterpart, as a warm breeze gently wafts down the Nile valley.
A vast assembly of vehicals continue to jockey about the tiny streets of the city, time after time sounding their horns in a chours of disapprovement, humbled by nothing less then looming mounds of pavement placed in less then strategic spots admist the streets.
Mosques litter the skyline, spewing opression over the city 5 times a day, shouting skywards to their deaf god.
The streets bustle with smiling people, chatter of Arabic and shouts of, "Welcome to Egypt!"
My replies of "I live here," fall short.
It's a short walk to the church every morning.
Familiar faces, dodging traffic, the little things in life that qualify as routine.
I have long since begun my work with the refugee community here,
And as I've sunk my teeth into the situation, I've realized in many ways, I've bitten off more then I can chew.
I've established relationships within the refugee schools, met with such organizations as the UNHCR, Caritas Egypt and Tadamon group, but the most impacting thing is hearing the personal accounts of war, famine and flight.
Refugees flock to Egypt from all over Africa and the Middle-East, and while each story is similar, they are all unique.
Some have come to escape war and perscution, others thinking Egypt will provide work and opperutnities, while more hope to make the seemingly short jump to Europe or North America, the much anticpated, just out of reach, "lands of milk and honey."
It's the footballer hoping and praying he'll be signed by a major team, each day passing him by as rent and cost of living compound.
The story of a grandmother and her grandchildren, fleeing an never-ending war, hoping for a chance at an education.
The journey of a million people, thinking that Egypt will provide them something more,
A million people, lost in a country, a system, a shattered dream.
It's a sea, a flood, and we've just made a ripple on the surface.
I do not mean to say that all is hopeless however,
Our God is a God who provides, Jehovah Jireh.
Each day it seems a new organization springs to life here in Egypt,
The want to help is strong, but often lost in the sea of despair.
It seems it's much easier to focus on the negitives in life, the faults, the failures, the short-comings.
It's a broken world, it's a more then a sea, more then an ocean and it has a vicious under current.
But God has ordained us, He has set us apart, He's lifted us out and granted us the ability to walk above it all.
Carefully we seemly tread, afraid to fall back in, unsure of the new ground me stand.
And while we may slip, we may begin to sink again but when we cry out Our God lifts us out.
Our God Who Walks With Us, Jehovah Shammah.
While we still remain with the tide beneith us, we are set apart.
And as we stand up straight, we are able to see the amazingness that is this world, the beauty within it, the good, the true and the tested.
The same is true here in Cairo,
In knowing God is true, and seeing the good that He has already accomplished,
The sea seems a little bit smaller.
With countless organizations working towards refugee rights, education and access to healthcare and affordable housing, we can approach the situation from all angles.
And while the stories of hurt and heartbreak will remain memories, may they be numbed by the breaking light on the horizon, the knowledge that someone cares and the peace of Jesus Christ.
No matter where we seem to find ourselves, God is still there with us.
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
Allow me to set the scene.
The unforgiving Summer sun has given way to it's meeker Fall counterpart, as a warm breeze gently wafts down the Nile valley.
A vast assembly of vehicals continue to jockey about the tiny streets of the city, time after time sounding their horns in a chours of disapprovement, humbled by nothing less then looming mounds of pavement placed in less then strategic spots admist the streets.
Mosques litter the skyline, spewing opression over the city 5 times a day, shouting skywards to their deaf god.
The streets bustle with smiling people, chatter of Arabic and shouts of, "Welcome to Egypt!"
My replies of "I live here," fall short.
It's a short walk to the church every morning.
Familiar faces, dodging traffic, the little things in life that qualify as routine.
I have long since begun my work with the refugee community here,
And as I've sunk my teeth into the situation, I've realized in many ways, I've bitten off more then I can chew.
I've established relationships within the refugee schools, met with such organizations as the UNHCR, Caritas Egypt and Tadamon group, but the most impacting thing is hearing the personal accounts of war, famine and flight.
Refugees flock to Egypt from all over Africa and the Middle-East, and while each story is similar, they are all unique.
Some have come to escape war and perscution, others thinking Egypt will provide work and opperutnities, while more hope to make the seemingly short jump to Europe or North America, the much anticpated, just out of reach, "lands of milk and honey."
It's the footballer hoping and praying he'll be signed by a major team, each day passing him by as rent and cost of living compound.
The story of a grandmother and her grandchildren, fleeing an never-ending war, hoping for a chance at an education.
The journey of a million people, thinking that Egypt will provide them something more,
A million people, lost in a country, a system, a shattered dream.
It's a sea, a flood, and we've just made a ripple on the surface.
I do not mean to say that all is hopeless however,
Our God is a God who provides, Jehovah Jireh.
Each day it seems a new organization springs to life here in Egypt,
The want to help is strong, but often lost in the sea of despair.
It seems it's much easier to focus on the negitives in life, the faults, the failures, the short-comings.
It's a broken world, it's a more then a sea, more then an ocean and it has a vicious under current.
But God has ordained us, He has set us apart, He's lifted us out and granted us the ability to walk above it all.
Carefully we seemly tread, afraid to fall back in, unsure of the new ground me stand.
And while we may slip, we may begin to sink again but when we cry out Our God lifts us out.
Our God Who Walks With Us, Jehovah Shammah.
While we still remain with the tide beneith us, we are set apart.
And as we stand up straight, we are able to see the amazingness that is this world, the beauty within it, the good, the true and the tested.
The same is true here in Cairo,
In knowing God is true, and seeing the good that He has already accomplished,
The sea seems a little bit smaller.
With countless organizations working towards refugee rights, education and access to healthcare and affordable housing, we can approach the situation from all angles.
And while the stories of hurt and heartbreak will remain memories, may they be numbed by the breaking light on the horizon, the knowledge that someone cares and the peace of Jesus Christ.
No matter where we seem to find ourselves, God is still there with us.
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
Monday, 15 October 2007
Ramadan Halas
The new moon marks the end of fasting and ushers in a time of celebation...
Fire crackers pop, mosques echo and Muslims find satisfaction in a full table.
Ramadan Halas...
Ramadan is over for yet another year.
Let there be eating in the streets,
May there be flowing water,
And let us enter the chaos that is عيد الفطر (Eid ul-Fitr), 'The Festivity of Breaking The Fast'.
For Muslims, this is a week of eating with friends and family and reflecting on god.
For everyone else, 'it's time to get out of Dodge.'
Eid ul-Fitr presents a time of rest for all, as it is a week long holiday for most Muslims.
Meaning most stores and business close.
I took advantage of an opportunity to hike through the mountains and valleys surrounding Mount Sinai.
Climbing with friends, encountering God in the amazingness of His creation.
It was a time of much needed rest, quiet contemplation and fellowship as we weaved our way through dry river valleys, climbed and scampered our way up and over daunting mountains, and discovered the secret beauty of hidden garden oasis'.
Our three days in the mountains was guided by a local Bedouin man, who we affectionately gave the title, "Bad Ass Bedouin."
A man who spent the first day hiking without food or water, never missing a step as he gently tread over loose rock and up steep slopes in nothing more then a humble pair of sandles.
This is a man with feet like leather, hands like asbestos and a worn face that tells the tales of a life in the mountains.
A man that is constantly surrounded by the awe of God's creation and yet continues to bow before idols.
Islam, Lucifers twisted creation, a chilling deception.
How can something point so bluntly towards God and yet be steered so far away.
So far away from His true love, and mercy and sacrifice.
For many here, the end of Ramandan is God's great mercy, a sad extent.
Time on the mountain is reflective, quiet praise and contentment...
*Enter Cairo*
It's nothing short of astonishing...the vast differences and the subtle similarities.
Life here is busy, days are never the same but things are always entertaining...depending on how you spin it.
The only things you can rely on here are your friends and call to prayer.
The echo from a dozen minarets encompasses the sounds below.
I never knew God was hard of hearing... until I arrived here. (Excuse my sarcasim)
The sound of oppression...it's scary how to some, it sounds like freedom.
God is always good though, and while their god refuses to act,
Mine is constantly at work, constantly pursuing, standing ever faithful, and loving.
My God hears my whispers and humbles me at my shouts...I need not shout,
While their god sends only prophets, mine sent Himself and remains with me still.
Who could ask for more?
Fire crackers pop, mosques echo and Muslims find satisfaction in a full table.
Ramadan Halas...
Ramadan is over for yet another year.
Let there be eating in the streets,
May there be flowing water,
And let us enter the chaos that is عيد الفطر (Eid ul-Fitr), 'The Festivity of Breaking The Fast'.
For Muslims, this is a week of eating with friends and family and reflecting on god.
For everyone else, 'it's time to get out of Dodge.'
Eid ul-Fitr presents a time of rest for all, as it is a week long holiday for most Muslims.
Meaning most stores and business close.
I took advantage of an opportunity to hike through the mountains and valleys surrounding Mount Sinai.
Climbing with friends, encountering God in the amazingness of His creation.
It was a time of much needed rest, quiet contemplation and fellowship as we weaved our way through dry river valleys, climbed and scampered our way up and over daunting mountains, and discovered the secret beauty of hidden garden oasis'.
Our three days in the mountains was guided by a local Bedouin man, who we affectionately gave the title, "Bad Ass Bedouin."
A man who spent the first day hiking without food or water, never missing a step as he gently tread over loose rock and up steep slopes in nothing more then a humble pair of sandles.
This is a man with feet like leather, hands like asbestos and a worn face that tells the tales of a life in the mountains.
A man that is constantly surrounded by the awe of God's creation and yet continues to bow before idols.
Islam, Lucifers twisted creation, a chilling deception.
How can something point so bluntly towards God and yet be steered so far away.
So far away from His true love, and mercy and sacrifice.
For many here, the end of Ramandan is God's great mercy, a sad extent.
Time on the mountain is reflective, quiet praise and contentment...
*Enter Cairo*
It's nothing short of astonishing...the vast differences and the subtle similarities.
Life here is busy, days are never the same but things are always entertaining...depending on how you spin it.
The only things you can rely on here are your friends and call to prayer.
The echo from a dozen minarets encompasses the sounds below.
I never knew God was hard of hearing... until I arrived here. (Excuse my sarcasim)
The sound of oppression...it's scary how to some, it sounds like freedom.
God is always good though, and while their god refuses to act,
Mine is constantly at work, constantly pursuing, standing ever faithful, and loving.
My God hears my whispers and humbles me at my shouts...I need not shout,
While their god sends only prophets, mine sent Himself and remains with me still.
Who could ask for more?
Saturday, 29 September 2007
Reason's Gone...Damage Stays
An eerie screetch...laughter ceases...a scream...a crying child...headlights...horns....
Life in slow motion.
There lays a woman in a heap at the side of the road, her baby in the middle of the highway...a car speeds off.
I run...we run into traffic, traffic which continues to race by, slowing in the slightest.
Another cry of pain turns the stomach as we dart across the 3 laned highway.
The woman stirs, a dim hope.
The baby stirs as cars pass by him closely...prayers.
More cars, I slam their trucks as they pass...anger.
In Egypt crosswalks are non-exsistant, religion is law, and life just is not fair.
Crossing streets here is gambling with your life, car rarely slow, traffic swerves around those who drive with caution and lanes are non-exsistant.
A careful eye and some blissful ignorance allows forgieners to cross the congested streets and the occasional close call gives an added thrill.
Egyptians cross the street to get to the other side, simple.
They know the risks of taking your time, they've experianced the real danger of a misjudged step, this is their life and it's not a game.
44 people die for every 100,000 KM driven in Egypt, and when an estimate 80.5 Million people live in Egypt with roughly a third of them being drivers...statistics scare me.
The night is dark, there are few headlights.
She is dressed in a full veil, view restricted, black as the night...She takes that step.
Religion is law here,
It dictates everything from how time is spent to attire.
Attire...
The black figure flies over the hood, and rolls off the windshield and comes to rest in a black rumbled heap.
A child, dressed in red, thrown into tired, hectic traffic.
A car speeds away...
Here lies a woman and a child, faced with the very real danger of death.
Still not a sound from the child, though he stirs.
We do what comes instictively...
Some run away, while others run to, or stand strong and pray.
I pluck the child from the road, while two other interns block traffic.
I hold the child close to my chest as tears well in our eyes,
Suddenly there comes a cry from his mouth, a realization that not all is well...shock has worn off as quickly as it set in.
I check him quickly from broken bones, torn skin or bruises...nothing.
Mircles happen every day, I have witnessed this.
*God is good!*
The crowd around the woman is large now, many yell in Arabic and hustle about...I don't understand.
Cell phones...help is on it's way.
I walk with the child in my arms down the center divider...away from the chaos, he doesn't need to see or hear this.
He trembles as I bounce him in my arms, I whisper.
I look up to the side of the street...a dozen Christians pray.
*God is merciful.*
Minutes go by...
A man comes and places his hand on my shoulder, his face is soft.
He says something in Arabic, and motions to the child.
Sometimes don't need a translation, I hand the child off to him with a quick whisper.
I move towards the woman, she lay moaning, trying to right herself, others kneel beside her.
I take up spot and stand directing traffic with the others,
The crowd grows, traffic grinds to a hault...it's time to go.
We move through the traffic towards our friends on the sidewalk,
Hugs, tears and encouragements...
We walk to some taxis, and drive away.
An ambulance races past us.
More prayers....
A driver now sits at home, his car parked on the street below his flat...damaged, a haunting reminder.
He sits up tonight, He doesn't know the outcome of the accident, he doesn't know that the child lived, he doesn't know that the woman never got up again under her own weight.
His life is changed...He didn't stop.
Life in slow motion.
There lays a woman in a heap at the side of the road, her baby in the middle of the highway...a car speeds off.
I run...we run into traffic, traffic which continues to race by, slowing in the slightest.
Another cry of pain turns the stomach as we dart across the 3 laned highway.
The woman stirs, a dim hope.
The baby stirs as cars pass by him closely...prayers.
More cars, I slam their trucks as they pass...anger.
In Egypt crosswalks are non-exsistant, religion is law, and life just is not fair.
Crossing streets here is gambling with your life, car rarely slow, traffic swerves around those who drive with caution and lanes are non-exsistant.
A careful eye and some blissful ignorance allows forgieners to cross the congested streets and the occasional close call gives an added thrill.
Egyptians cross the street to get to the other side, simple.
They know the risks of taking your time, they've experianced the real danger of a misjudged step, this is their life and it's not a game.
44 people die for every 100,000 KM driven in Egypt, and when an estimate 80.5 Million people live in Egypt with roughly a third of them being drivers...statistics scare me.
The night is dark, there are few headlights.
She is dressed in a full veil, view restricted, black as the night...She takes that step.
Religion is law here,
It dictates everything from how time is spent to attire.
Attire...
The black figure flies over the hood, and rolls off the windshield and comes to rest in a black rumbled heap.
A child, dressed in red, thrown into tired, hectic traffic.
A car speeds away...
Here lies a woman and a child, faced with the very real danger of death.
Still not a sound from the child, though he stirs.
We do what comes instictively...
Some run away, while others run to, or stand strong and pray.
I pluck the child from the road, while two other interns block traffic.
I hold the child close to my chest as tears well in our eyes,
Suddenly there comes a cry from his mouth, a realization that not all is well...shock has worn off as quickly as it set in.
I check him quickly from broken bones, torn skin or bruises...nothing.
Mircles happen every day, I have witnessed this.
*God is good!*
The crowd around the woman is large now, many yell in Arabic and hustle about...I don't understand.
Cell phones...help is on it's way.
I walk with the child in my arms down the center divider...away from the chaos, he doesn't need to see or hear this.
He trembles as I bounce him in my arms, I whisper.
I look up to the side of the street...a dozen Christians pray.
*God is merciful.*
Minutes go by...
A man comes and places his hand on my shoulder, his face is soft.
He says something in Arabic, and motions to the child.
Sometimes don't need a translation, I hand the child off to him with a quick whisper.
I move towards the woman, she lay moaning, trying to right herself, others kneel beside her.
I take up spot and stand directing traffic with the others,
The crowd grows, traffic grinds to a hault...it's time to go.
We move through the traffic towards our friends on the sidewalk,
Hugs, tears and encouragements...
We walk to some taxis, and drive away.
An ambulance races past us.
More prayers....
A driver now sits at home, his car parked on the street below his flat...damaged, a haunting reminder.
He sits up tonight, He doesn't know the outcome of the accident, he doesn't know that the child lived, he doesn't know that the woman never got up again under her own weight.
His life is changed...He didn't stop.
Tuesday, 25 September 2007
The Ugly Puppet Show
The curtain opens and there you stand,
A puppet on strings, a ventriloquist doll or a beautifully creative artist?
One who goes about life holding on by a string,
One who speaks only what they are told to speak, without a second though,
Or one who crafts something which is both pleasing to the Creator and spectator?
As the dust settled I grew strings, strings which were used to both hold me down, and steer me away from what I saw as right.
As the dust has begun to clear, I have noticed the ugly hooks which remain in myself,
And while the strings have been severed, still remains the potential for something to grab hold of me from the outside.
Hooks, embedded deep within the flesh, ugly things which cause the affected to oouze discontentment, discouragement, fear and sin.
Slowly I have begun to work the hooks I have found outwards...out of my being.
To tear is to damage, wounds become infected.
*Praise be to You, Jehovah Raphah*
The thought of being controlled by something other than God, terrifies me to my core.
I am not a puppet, not even God uses us as one.
We are free...to choose...to move...to listen and discern.
*Praise be to You, Jehovah Shalom*
The depiction of man on strings is a scary but often real representation of life here...and all across the globe.
All the world is a stage...
A fanciful cliche, or a scary truth?
A puppet on strings, a ventriloquist doll or a beautifully creative artist?
One who goes about life holding on by a string,
One who speaks only what they are told to speak, without a second though,
Or one who crafts something which is both pleasing to the Creator and spectator?
As the dust settled I grew strings, strings which were used to both hold me down, and steer me away from what I saw as right.
As the dust has begun to clear, I have noticed the ugly hooks which remain in myself,
And while the strings have been severed, still remains the potential for something to grab hold of me from the outside.
Hooks, embedded deep within the flesh, ugly things which cause the affected to oouze discontentment, discouragement, fear and sin.
Slowly I have begun to work the hooks I have found outwards...out of my being.
To tear is to damage, wounds become infected.
*Praise be to You, Jehovah Raphah*
The thought of being controlled by something other than God, terrifies me to my core.
I am not a puppet, not even God uses us as one.
We are free...to choose...to move...to listen and discern.
*Praise be to You, Jehovah Shalom*
The depiction of man on strings is a scary but often real representation of life here...and all across the globe.
All the world is a stage...
A fanciful cliche, or a scary truth?
Tuesday, 11 September 2007
As The Dust Settles
Desert sand coats everything here.
If you let anything sit long enough, either inside or out, it collects a flim of girtty flith.
Even now as I write, I sit atop a dust caked chair on a belcony overlooking the suburb of Maadi.
I have been here in Egypt two weeks now...
I have since left jet-leg in the wake of a fast paced life style, full of language classes, meetings, tasks and homework.
However, despite the lack consitant intermissions, Egypt has begun to feel like home to me and when the opportunity to surface and rest presents itself, I have found myself in the sweet embrace of the couch and a pizza box.
God has been both the forefront and distant longing in my heart over the last couple months.
Since arriving home from Africa in July, I retreated from myself.
I told the story of my travels but never really processed it, and I went from a "Spiritual high" into a cement wall.
I still was around God but never came before Him, never really focused on Him...
Dust settled.
The thing about dust is, unless it's on a hard, flat surface, it doesn't come out easily.
It collects in groves and poors and it piles up...
God didn't make us hard, nor did He make us flat.
It says that God shaped us and He continues to mold us.
We are incrediably detailed, carefully constructed beings and it's because we are so detailed, that it's so difficult to get all the dust out when it gathers.
My prayer life began to suffer, my want for more for decreased and God felt distant.
I know He never was, nor will He ever be, but I felt cut off, choaked in dust.
I was too embarrassed and too stubborn to ask for help.
And so I was off to Egypt...on a plane this first time more alone then ever.
I continued to struggle,
At prayer meetings I felt as though I was talking to God through a wall,
Alone I found it hard to come before God, I felt ashamed.
God is Good...All the time.
It was at church this weekend that some of the dust came off,
The amazing thing is we don't have to let dust settle, God doesn't want us to let it settle because when it does, it masks how beautiful we are and makes it impossible to continue to grow.
All the time...God is Good
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
If you let anything sit long enough, either inside or out, it collects a flim of girtty flith.
Even now as I write, I sit atop a dust caked chair on a belcony overlooking the suburb of Maadi.
I have been here in Egypt two weeks now...
I have since left jet-leg in the wake of a fast paced life style, full of language classes, meetings, tasks and homework.
However, despite the lack consitant intermissions, Egypt has begun to feel like home to me and when the opportunity to surface and rest presents itself, I have found myself in the sweet embrace of the couch and a pizza box.
God has been both the forefront and distant longing in my heart over the last couple months.
Since arriving home from Africa in July, I retreated from myself.
I told the story of my travels but never really processed it, and I went from a "Spiritual high" into a cement wall.
I still was around God but never came before Him, never really focused on Him...
Dust settled.
The thing about dust is, unless it's on a hard, flat surface, it doesn't come out easily.
It collects in groves and poors and it piles up...
God didn't make us hard, nor did He make us flat.
It says that God shaped us and He continues to mold us.
We are incrediably detailed, carefully constructed beings and it's because we are so detailed, that it's so difficult to get all the dust out when it gathers.
My prayer life began to suffer, my want for more for decreased and God felt distant.
I know He never was, nor will He ever be, but I felt cut off, choaked in dust.
I was too embarrassed and too stubborn to ask for help.
And so I was off to Egypt...on a plane this first time more alone then ever.
I continued to struggle,
At prayer meetings I felt as though I was talking to God through a wall,
Alone I found it hard to come before God, I felt ashamed.
God is Good...All the time.
It was at church this weekend that some of the dust came off,
The amazing thing is we don't have to let dust settle, God doesn't want us to let it settle because when it does, it masks how beautiful we are and makes it impossible to continue to grow.
All the time...God is Good
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
Sunday, 2 September 2007
A Comfortable Discomfort
It's funny how...
No matter how far away you are from home, no matter how different the place you're in, or no matter what surrounds you, you still have the choice whether or not to engage or stay at arms length.
I'm in Egypt,
It's dirty, it's hot and it's dusty.
The language is problematic, the culture is forgein and call to prayer brings everything to a stop.
It's different here, but it's beautiful all the same.
I love it here in Egypt, it's stretching, it's not always easy but it's nessesary.
This internship I have chosen to take part in subjects us to the harsh reality that is a broken world.
We are given the opportunity to engage a part of life, a part of this world which brings us beyond our comfort zone, and in some cases shocks us to our core.
It shakes us to our moral core, and brings in to questions what really is right and what is wrong and what is "wrong" because we just don't want to face it.
It seems a lot of time to face something, to question some things, allows God to present us with an opportunity to change.
Am I being blunt, or criptic?
One persons negatives are anothers way of life.
Who am I to ask for a change which better suits me and my western ideals?
I have been presented with a beautiful home here in Egypt. Thanks to the beautiful family I am staying with and the items from home which I have brought, I could chose to be very comfort and trust me, there will be days in which I will chose to.
To stretch too far is to break but to make a habit of it is to ignore God and His calling on our lives.
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
No matter how far away you are from home, no matter how different the place you're in, or no matter what surrounds you, you still have the choice whether or not to engage or stay at arms length.
I'm in Egypt,
It's dirty, it's hot and it's dusty.
The language is problematic, the culture is forgein and call to prayer brings everything to a stop.
It's different here, but it's beautiful all the same.
I love it here in Egypt, it's stretching, it's not always easy but it's nessesary.
This internship I have chosen to take part in subjects us to the harsh reality that is a broken world.
We are given the opportunity to engage a part of life, a part of this world which brings us beyond our comfort zone, and in some cases shocks us to our core.
It shakes us to our moral core, and brings in to questions what really is right and what is wrong and what is "wrong" because we just don't want to face it.
It seems a lot of time to face something, to question some things, allows God to present us with an opportunity to change.
Am I being blunt, or criptic?
One persons negatives are anothers way of life.
Who am I to ask for a change which better suits me and my western ideals?
I have been presented with a beautiful home here in Egypt. Thanks to the beautiful family I am staying with and the items from home which I have brought, I could chose to be very comfort and trust me, there will be days in which I will chose to.
To stretch too far is to break but to make a habit of it is to ignore God and His calling on our lives.
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
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