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?
Monday, 15 October 2007
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
Monday, 27 August 2007
Smooth Sailing
With a title like that I shouldn;t have to write much else.
I am here...or there, which ever way you care to look at it.
I landed in Cairo, Egypt at 12:41AM Egyptian time...10:41PM Yesturday for you folks on the West-coast.
Unlike my last journey, I made it soundly through security, picked-up my bags and my bike and met my friend outside the gates.
The wash of desert heat covered me as I stepped into the night air, it's not something you can really prepare for. At 1 in the morning, the 25 degree heat messes with your senses.
We loaded up the car and drove towards Maadi, through the streets crawling with night life.
Traffic, no stop lights, blarring horns, and yelling. Welcome back to chaos.
I'm staying with a young family here in Maadi. They have two cats, a 11 month old little girl and one on the way.
They were asleep when I arrived, and we tip-toed around the apartment as not to wake them...They returned the favour in the morning.
I was to sleep on the couch for the first few days, they had guests. It won't be long untill I move into the currently occupied penthouse apartment.
The family left me a note, some water and a granola bar and after devouring all but the note, I went to bed.
I awoke at quarter to 12 in the morning to the sound of the maid, busily cleaning the house.
I dressed introduced myself and then headed out towards the church.
40 degree heat greeted me outside.
The church is a short walk away, maybe 10 minutes...I got lost.
I met many new staff and saw many more familiar faces.
Once arriving home again, I finally met the family. A very friendly American couple, and a very cute, very talkitive little baby.
We sat and ate dinner together and learned a little about eachother.
It's a great little set up I have here, a good couple to stay with, a great apartment and some amazing work ahead of me.
I'm looking forward to all the Egypt has in store.
That's all for now.
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
I am here...or there, which ever way you care to look at it.
I landed in Cairo, Egypt at 12:41AM Egyptian time...10:41PM Yesturday for you folks on the West-coast.
Unlike my last journey, I made it soundly through security, picked-up my bags and my bike and met my friend outside the gates.
The wash of desert heat covered me as I stepped into the night air, it's not something you can really prepare for. At 1 in the morning, the 25 degree heat messes with your senses.
We loaded up the car and drove towards Maadi, through the streets crawling with night life.
Traffic, no stop lights, blarring horns, and yelling. Welcome back to chaos.
I'm staying with a young family here in Maadi. They have two cats, a 11 month old little girl and one on the way.
They were asleep when I arrived, and we tip-toed around the apartment as not to wake them...They returned the favour in the morning.
I was to sleep on the couch for the first few days, they had guests. It won't be long untill I move into the currently occupied penthouse apartment.
The family left me a note, some water and a granola bar and after devouring all but the note, I went to bed.
I awoke at quarter to 12 in the morning to the sound of the maid, busily cleaning the house.
I dressed introduced myself and then headed out towards the church.
40 degree heat greeted me outside.
The church is a short walk away, maybe 10 minutes...I got lost.
I met many new staff and saw many more familiar faces.
Once arriving home again, I finally met the family. A very friendly American couple, and a very cute, very talkitive little baby.
We sat and ate dinner together and learned a little about eachother.
It's a great little set up I have here, a good couple to stay with, a great apartment and some amazing work ahead of me.
I'm looking forward to all the Egypt has in store.
That's all for now.
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
Sunday, 26 August 2007
English Breakfast Anyone?
Once agin I find myself writing to you from London Heathrow Airport...Terminal 4.
After a relatively eventless flight and a sleepless night, I'm on the brink of Egypt...One flight to go.
I've hunkarded down in a little resturant, and I'm greeted by the smell of a traditional English breakfast...with a chocolate milkshake, my own little twist.
I'm tempted by the Enlgish chocolate the lines the hallways of the airport, and a flash of Prision Break Season 2 in the window of HMV has caught my attention.
People.
From all over the world, different languages, saying good-bye, shouting hello.
There's fear, stress, nervousness and excitment. Whether it's seperate or mixed, it hangs in these halls.
I'm beginning to feel as if I'm a veteran of traveling now...this is my fourteenth flight in the last 4 months.
I haven't quite decided what I'm feeling just yet, but I think it can be described as the "in-transit".
I'm not yet excited, it's on hold untill I arrive, there's still things to deal with.
I'm not nervous, though I'm sure when I land in Egypt I will be...if not right away then as soon as we get in the car, driving there is a test of nerves for anyone.
It's just the sense of what needs to be done, check-in, get on the flight, get my visa, get my bags, get to my ride...and then I can breathe.
For now I'm going to dig into my breakfast and wonder these halls.
I'll post again shortly after reaching Egypt.
For now,
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
After a relatively eventless flight and a sleepless night, I'm on the brink of Egypt...One flight to go.
I've hunkarded down in a little resturant, and I'm greeted by the smell of a traditional English breakfast...with a chocolate milkshake, my own little twist.
I'm tempted by the Enlgish chocolate the lines the hallways of the airport, and a flash of Prision Break Season 2 in the window of HMV has caught my attention.
People.
From all over the world, different languages, saying good-bye, shouting hello.
There's fear, stress, nervousness and excitment. Whether it's seperate or mixed, it hangs in these halls.
I'm beginning to feel as if I'm a veteran of traveling now...this is my fourteenth flight in the last 4 months.
I haven't quite decided what I'm feeling just yet, but I think it can be described as the "in-transit".
I'm not yet excited, it's on hold untill I arrive, there's still things to deal with.
I'm not nervous, though I'm sure when I land in Egypt I will be...if not right away then as soon as we get in the car, driving there is a test of nerves for anyone.
It's just the sense of what needs to be done, check-in, get on the flight, get my visa, get my bags, get to my ride...and then I can breathe.
For now I'm going to dig into my breakfast and wonder these halls.
I'll post again shortly after reaching Egypt.
For now,
Grace, Peace and Blessings,
Brent
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