The month of July began with nearly four straight days of travel. 

      Welcomed by a gang of giraffe at the boarder, team Pneuma finally made it to Tanzania.

       I wish I could say that such a long bus ride was a good time to rest and relax, but sleeping on an African bus is near impossible with all the twists, turns and bumps in the road. "Relaxing" is about the last word I would use to describe our travel daze. 

         Yes,

                  d   a   z   e.

(Half the time these days, I wake up from my slumber wondering, 

"What day is it? Where am I?  What *country* am I in?") And honestly, as tedious and as exhausting as travel can be sometimes, it's true, I do *absolutely* love it!

   On the way to our destination in traditional African fashion, our bus broke down. 

   Let me say here,

    Tanzania is dangerous at night.

    Tanzania is so dangerous in fact, that there is a law against passenger vehicles traveling late into the evening.  So what could we do?

    And here, my friends, is another amazing story of how God's hand has been all over our travels. We broke down just a mere few *feet* from the restaurant rest stop we had dinner at. 

 The owner of the restaurant, (bless his heart!), let us sleep there. Nearly three teams, camped out on the floor. Rest assured, I'll be adding this one to the list of crazy places I've rested my weary bones throughout the last ten months; right there on the list under "Nicaraguan Ferry." 

     The following night we stayed with one of our fellow teams in Tanzania's capital, of Dar Es Salam. It was a cramped house that night with 4 teams under the same small roof. Think, sleeping *on top* of your backpack. Oh, yes, and let me add here, no running water. It was so worth the extra night however, for a quick dip in the Indian Ocean! Who needs running water when you can bathe in the ocean? And believe me, we did. (I'll add that one to the list, right under, "showering in a Panamanian river.")

            ***F i n a l l y***  we made it to our last East African city Iringa, Tanzania. 

   A cute little German- influenced town, it happened to have everything needed for a good get away spot- (Which, by the way, has become something essential on this journey!) coffee, internet, and the most amazing chocolate cake I've had since home. 

(Seriously, just *look* what a slice of cake, and an amazing cup of coffee can do for you on the Race! And just where would we get such an amazing cup of coffee? If you ever happen to find yourself in Tanzania, check out Neema cafe. They are an awesome organization that employs disabled Tanzanians to make handicrafts such as jewelry, stationary, and sewn goods. A few of us even got to go in the back and work alongside employees! To learn more, check out their website *here*!) 

  Our month was filled with all the usual Eastern African ministries of preaching, teaching, going to a couple of orphanages, and a weekend trip to a "local" village.  (And I hesitate to say it was "local" because it was another 5 hour bus ride, on *the most crowded* smallest, smelliest bus I have ever been on in my entire life.)  Oh, Africa!

   Here, our home for the month! We were so blessed to work with team Calvary this month! A full house made for tons of fun! We were even blessed to have visitors from Uganda and Kenya join us this month as well! 

The local kiddos *loved* the stickers I gave them! It was a great opportunity to share with them just how much they are loved by their Creator! Below, Ashely and I are playing a game at a visit to an orphanage. 

        Beyond a shadow of a doubt, the month was amazing. However, I won't lie. 

Eastern Africa has been rough. 

        It's a rough place to do ministry, when nearly everyone who looks at you sees the color of your skin and wants you to give them money or food.

It's a rough place to have a constant attitude of joy, when all the children point at you and scream the word for foreigner, 

     "Muzungu! Muzungu! Muzungu! How are you, Muzungu?!" 

      (I think if I never heard that word again in my life, I would be totally fine.) 

It's a rough place to get around, when everywhere you go, you are one of 20+ people in what is supposed to be a 12 passenger van-- at most. 

It's rough to maintain your energy for ministry when all around you, your teammates are dropping like flies so to speak, getting sick from malaria, infections, typhoid, you name it. (From mosquitoes, or from dirty water. You do all you can to not drink it, but sometimes you get into a  situation where all you can do is politely accept, and pray it's okay.) 

It makes it even more difficult when you are living off a diet of mostly starches, and everything is fried... fried potato wedges, fried dough, (just in two different forms of flat chapati bread or round, more the donut-like mandazi.) Oh yes, of course beans, rice, and if you are lucky, a few greens.  Every. single. day.  After all, part of this trip is surrendering, and part of what that means is- to a large extent- surrendering control over your diet. 

To add to it all, it doesn't help matters that you haven't slept through the entire night the entire month.  At this point on the race, your over the fact that your "bed" for the month is uncomfortable, but you still are a little freaked out by the mice in the house that keep pooping all over the floor, getting into all of your things, and there aren't exactly any shelves to put anything on. You make due, and tie your bags to the bars on the window. You know, the bars on the window that were put there because, as you heard, Tanzania is dangerous- especially at night. 

    You know what, though?

   For as rough as it can be, it's all been worth it. 

         Every        single        second,

                     it's been worth it. 

     When I think about how much I've grown, and when I think about how much these experiences have grown the people around me, that makes it worth it. 

     It's worth it for that moment when those fifteen school children hear your story; they hear your plea to not make the same mistakes you did in life. It's worth it when they recognize your plea for them to put their trust in something bigger than themselves is made out of an inexplicable Heavenly kind of love for them.        

     It's worth it, in the moment when that elderly lady you just met on the street is desperate for something more, and she's ready and hungry for Jesus to enter into her life and change it in radical ways.

      It's worth it in those moments of late night encouraging conversations with teammates and squadmates that fuel you forward, and allow you to press on to the next day, the next month, the next chapter...  

      It's worth it, to realize you are a part of something so much bigger than yourself, and that you walk with a Kingdom kind of purpose...       

      It's worth it to sing a new song. 

      It's worth it to dance a new dance. 

      It's worth loving in a whole new way,

           It's worth opening up your heart in a way you never before knew to be possible.

         One more month... 

    One more month until this race is over, and God willing, hundreds more to keep on loving! 

It's freezing cold, a rare, refreshing feeling on the race...

The Ugandan rain on the rusty tin roof over our heads is such a peaceful sound. We are huddled here in the small space of this straw house- Jacinda, Jan, (the Australian woman we are partnering with)  & the older Ugandan widow whom we are building a *new* house for. 

   I have found refuge in a corner, on top of an old bicycle tire. I've seen some of the local kids playing with these things on the street, and imagine it is probably being saved for the woman's orphan granddaughter, Viola. (My heart breaks for the reality that here, trash become toys.) The girl, and two other neighbor children huddle around me as I type out this blog on my ipod. These kids have probably never even seen anything quite like this before. In fact, I realize, they have probably never even seen a computer before. Its moments like these I am face to face with the fact that the world that these children live in is so very far away, both literally and  figuratively speaking, from the children back in the place I call home. 

We finish making the frame of the woman's new house and make our way on muddy roads. Very muddy in fact. Well, actually, they weren't roads at all, but rather dirt paths that had been widened by Brian and Jan's 4-wheel drive the first time we came through. 

Praise the Good Lord for 4-Wheel drive.

The car slid off the path- twice. 

Here there is no calling people for help, except maybe a few people walking back from the watering hole. There are no tow trucks. We were just plain stuck. 

It took chopping down multiple trees- yes, trees- with machetes, shovels and hoes before nearly two hours later we were finally able to get out. 

Funny, a situation that easily could've made so many people angry and frustrated helped to bring about the restoration of something that had seemed to have been missing from our team since we first had arrived in Uganda- joy. 

Would we have had that same joy without the car going skating down the road? Of course. The work being done on that woman's house was so tremendously fulfilling to all of us, but the memories of the day however- priceless!

       She 

                   is 

                 TRAPPED; 

                                   a 

                                     PRISONER 

               in 

                       her 

                    own 

                                                  body. 

     Pastor Joseph tried to prepare us for what we were about to do, but I don't think any words could adequately equip our hearts for what we saw next. We walked down a dark, narrow hallway, past a room full of crib-like beds, into the main room where sat over 30 of the most severely handicapped people I had ever seen in my life, both mentally and physically. 

   Shrunken heads;

           a row of people confined to beds. 

Old, wooden adult high-chairs for feeding time, their names written in faded Sharpie...

Drool stained clothes; 

        wheelchairs. 

   Wheelchairs tied to poles.  

Flies. 

      Flies on faces. 

        Heads shaking, 

       some screaming,

         all the while, 

           my heart     

            b r e a k i n g.

          *** 

    Popular culture (in particular, American pop culture)  has always done a sufficient job of mockingly distorting sometimes hard to grasp theological paradigms, that of Heaven and Hell are no exception. Traditional ideas of these concepts are absurd and even laughable at best. 

Hell tends to conjure up pictures in one's mind of an ugly little red horned creature with a pitchfork and a pointy little tail.

 And Heaven?

 What kinds of *glorious* imagery comes to mind? 

Chubby little cherubs sitting on fluffy white clouds playing harps all day? 

Or how about that effeminate looking Jesus? You know, the one that appears not at all middle-eastern, or even Jewish for that matter. Yeah, that's right. The one holding the lamb in his arms; the one with the curly, long flowing gold-y-locks.  

And how have Christ's followers defended or refuted these notions? 

For one thing, it's pretty easy to see that historically Christians have had a tendency to be far more Hell-minded than Heaven focused. 

Take for instance:

The great British preacher Martin Lloyd-Jones wrote a 900 page systematic theology, with a mere 2 pages on the resurrection state.  

  American theologian and commentator Reinhold Niebuhr wrote a two volume systematic theology, with absolutely no mention of the resurrection; no mention of the great Kingdom banquet that awaits those who confess and profess Christ.  

Another great theologian William Shedd had  87 pages of his dogmatics devoted to Hell, suffering, anguish and pain, with  *zero* pages devoted to Heaven. 

Louis Burkov, who is said to have written the presbyterian "gold standard",  devoted a single page of his Systematic Theology on the resurrection state and the Kingdom party.

Even the great Bible teacher John Calvin wrote very little about Heaven...

       Contemporary author Randy Alcorn, said in his book , Heaven, that Christians when talking about Heaven, are kind of like a bunch of astronauts sitting on a shuttle that is about to launch. They look around at each other saying, "so, what do you know about Mars?" the reply: "nothing". 

And after all, why not be Hell-minded? After all, Christ himself talked about Hell more than anyone else in the Bible.

         His entire life however, was the epitome of Heaven invading earth. 

"God's Kingdom come,

    His will be done,

on earth..

      as it is

 ... in Heaven." 

***

       I don't think there has been a moment yet on the race, I have so closely caught a glimpse of what Heaven must be like, than the times I spent feeding my new "rafiki", my new friend Monthine. 

          In the past, it's possible that seeing what I did that day would make me angry at God in my inability to look at earth from a *heavenly* perspective. In the past, I would question how an all-loving God could possibly allow such immense human depravity. 

     On this day however, rather than being confused or depressed or even angry at what I would once have seen as a grave injustice, I had an inexplicable peace... a peace that truly surpassed all I could understand. In that, I've come to the realization that God has totally re-defined my idea of justice, and humbled me to trust that justice is in the hands of my God, not my own. My understanding of what is just and what is right, is from a mere human, earthy perspective. 

Perhaps one of the best illustrations of Jesus trying to explain some of these hard to grasp ideas of human suffering and justice to his disciples is in John 9:

Jesus is walking with his disciples, and they see a man, blind from birth. 

His disciples think that his lack of sight was due to sin. They ask Jesus, who sinned, was it the man, or his parents? 

Jesus replies, neither this man or his parents sinned, but this happened so that the work of God may be displayed in his life. 

Jesus healed the man. 

While I prayed for Monthine, I confess, didn't come to see her healing. At least, not in this world anyway... 

    Because of her disability, my new friend is forced to lay on her stomach all day. She has no movement of her legs, and little movement of her arms.  Her body shakes in her inability to control herself. I put her apron over her, and made sure to spread it out so that it would not get all over the bed. Monthine saw the familiar plate of food in my hands, and her mouth opened like a baby bird for it's mother. As I spooned the gray and purple mush into her mouth, it was all I could do to hold back tears as Heavenly images flashed through my mind.

Imagine. 

        It's the best party you've ever been to, or could ever throw; perhaps, a wedding reception. It's an outdoor reception on the most beautiful spring day you could possibly picture. There is an explosion of the most vibrant colors, they seem almost tangible. You see light  in a new way, and experience colors you can't express or put a name to because you've never even seen them before.

This is the kind of day that not even the butterflies or birds would miss, they serenade you and your guests with their songs. You reach out to touch them. 

           At first, it's a bit of a strange scene- all the guests are wearing white, not just the bride. But then you realize, you are the bride. This is the happiest day of your life, the day that you are united with your true love. You've been burned in the past by other lovers, ones that didn't really love you, but this is it! This is The One, and you have a kind of peace about this day unlike any kind of peace you've ever had before in your life. Everyone you love is there to help you celebrate. Only, they are all feeling the exact same thing you are... There is a kind of ecstasy in the air. 

Imagine. 

All this,

 while spooning mush into the mouth of my new friend. 

 I told Monthine while I fed her that I couldn't wait to sit next to her at the banquet feast in Heaven. Looking down at the mix of ugly, smelly purple cabbage, and mushy bananas, I told her, "and it will be the best food you've ever eaten." 

"In fact..," I told her, 

"...there will be the finest of wines and the choicest of meats!"

I told her that in Christ, she has the promise of a new body. 

One that allows her to walk, and even run.  

 I quoted to her what I could remember of Zechariah 3:17, telling her that she is loved more than she could ever know. So much in fact, that in Heaven, Christ will quiet us with His love, and he will *rejoice* over us with singing. 

I have no idea what was going on in her head, 

but I know she understood. 

The grin she so beautiful adorned from ear to ear told me so. 

(As a side note, in fact, many of the women we worked with there would respond and smile at the name of Jesus.) 

These, I have come to believe, are the realities of Heaven. These are the things that few ever picture Heaven to be like, perhaps because of its difficulty. You know, to see *this* world. 

Perfect. 

*This* world,

minus sin and all of its effects. 

*THIS* WORLD. 

***

When we got home from Mother Theresa's and debriefed as a team how it went, all of us agreed that it was an amazingly humbling experience. For many of us, in 8 months of serving, it was one of our favorite ministries we've partaken in on the race. Josh likened us to soldiers fighting a battle, not with weapons of iron and steel, but with something even more violent: a kind of the most intense and piercing kind of love, the love of Christ. 

I think it was around this time I was really truly starting to get it. I was starting to get what it really looks like to live and walk with a Kingdom kind of purpose for life.  

   Christ, working through me during my time on The World Race, has forced me to come to re-define my purpose for life and my reality in a whole new way. It has re-shaped my idea of what it truly means to be a Christ follower, and how throughout my time on this earth, it is summed up in the prayer of Jesus himself:

"Your kingdom come, 

Your will be done. 

on earth 

as it is in Heaven."

It's about modeling the life of Jesus. 

It's about being a willing vessel, one fully and completely directed by God through the work of the Holy spirit.

It's about fighting a battle 

to bring the realities of Heaven 

 *here*, 

     to  

     *earth*! 

     Let me begin by saying that I am now in the small town of Lwamata, Uganda. Between a lack of power during the day, and only 4 hours or so of power at night, and little to no internet, as you might be able to imagine it makes blogging difficult! Please have patience with me as I catch you up to speed, dear readers! Much love! 

                                    ******

 I remember when I was little, and the pages of National Geographic made the world seem so distant and exotic. My family never had a subscription, so my most vivid memories are in the dentist office waiting room, forgetting about the sheer horror of my visit, being totally and completely enthralled with every single page. 

        I was lost on every glossy sheet, and dreamed that maybe even some day I would work for them. Regardless, there was a deep longing set in my soul to see those places with my own eyes, and to interact with the people of those pages; that they would come to life. 

     By seventeen, my travel outside of the US included a trip to Canada, and a week long mission trip to Mexico my freshman year of high school. Six hours past the Juarez border, in the city of Chihuahua, the fire was further fueled. There was burning desire deep inside me to travel the globe and experience as much of this glorious creation as possible, coupled with the yearning to gain a larger lens with which to view the human condition in the frame of my mind. 

    The year was 2003. Life before Facebook; before iPods. Imagine. Somehow, I found myself scrunched between my parents late one spring night in May.  The anticipation in the air was nearly palpable. What would Kenya be like?  I couldn't wait to see my older brother, and I knew my parents were more than anxious to see their son. This was the longest flight I had ever taken in my life. After hours suspended in the air, the wheels of the plane finally kicked out from beneath itself and we began our descent.  

      I made sure to burn a mixed cd before I left, just for the occasion. Pressing play,  Toto's "Africa" came on as the plane touched land once again at Nairobi's Jomo Kenyata Airport. 

      I never could've foreseen that night, that *exactly* eight years later I would find myself in Nairobi, Kenya once again, singing and dancing to that very same song, and in the grocery store aisles, nonetheless. 

    Even at the time of departure for this crazy trip around the world, I wouldn't have ever guessed I'd end up here again. Our original race route was to take us to South Africa and surrounding countries. We were never supposed to come here, and to be quite honest, I would've been content to never set foot in this country again. 

Not at all because I didn't like my time here all those years ago. The thing was, I didn't want to come back because I *loved* it so! 

Dad & I touring a Masai home. Made of mud & cow-dung. The most unexpected thing: the radio playing on the inside. 

Wyatt & I in a Kenyan cave. Fun fact: Part of the first Tomb Raider was filmed here. 

Sack-breakfast: Safari on the Mara. 

And here, certainly one of the more odd family photos!

Wyatt, mom, dad, the Masai and I! 

(Wade & Amy, I'll have to photo shop you guys in someday!)        

     Those memories out on safari with my parents, walking on the African red dirt around my brother's school, amazed at my brother's driving skills, dodging matatus and potholes on what was at that time a dirt-road highway all the way to the coast, and then marveling at the tremendous beauty of Mombassa...

(It was the first time I'd ever been snorkeling, and loved it!) 

     I didn't want to risk replacing these, some of my most precious and beautiful memories, with new ones. 

      To be honest, when S-Squad got the news that we were returning, I was scared. 

What if we returned to Kenya, and it was my worst month on the race? 

     "For God did not give us a spirit of timidity, but a spirit of power, of love, and of self discipline." (2Tim.1:7) 

    It's laughable now to reflect on those fears. A moment longer reflecting, and I'm brought to my knees in repentance. Fear is not a fruit of the spirit. If God is for me, who and what can be against me? God has not given us a spirit of fear but of... 

In fact, Kenya has done it again, taking my breath away every single day at it's beauty. On a sunny day, the skies are unlike any I have ever seen before, the most brilliant whites and blue. Even grey rain clouds have a kind of unmatchable splendor!

       More beautiful than anything, are the people and how quickly so many have taken in my teammates and I as family.  

      It's true, I've fallen in love with this country all over again. This has been, beyond a doubt, my favorite month of ministry!

     I've had the blessing of singing on the praise team, my tongue delighting at learning new words and phrases in Swahili. 

(I'm over there! On the far right!!! Okay, I think most of the team took video rather than photos of this time, so hopefully I can get some of those up later! Stay tuned for that!) 

  One of my favorite ministries this month has been working at Mother Theresa's home for the disabled, feeding women who cannot feed themselves. It was one of the most humbling experiences I have ever had.

    In one of the largest slums of the world, the kids of Kibera won my heart. 

      For the first time on the race, I vocalized the hard to admit details of my testimony.

     That day, twenty-seven Kenyan kiddos gave their lives to Christ. One even came to the church this Sunday to further cement his new commitment to the Lord! 

      Please join me in continuing to pray for them! 

     Living with a Kenyan native, I think it's safe to say, my teammates and I have never felt more welcomed before. This month, we slept in our pastor's home. We would eat meals together, and on occasion, help take their beautiful daughter to school. Doing the dishes, doing our laundry, praying together at the end of every night, and just living life together, we truly felt a part of the family. It will be harder to leave this home, than any other place we have been. I can't speak highly enough of Pastor Joseph, his wife Mercy, & their beautiful daughter Patience. 

Here's a family photo of all of us! 

     Oh, and those other people in the picture, that's Anderson, on the right. He's the man who cooked for us nearly every meal the entire month, and Lillian, on the left. She's the woman who helps to take care of Patience and all of the necessary chores that must be done to help keep up a house with 12 people living in it! Anderson dreams of using his cooking skills to show God's love to people. Hands down, his meals are some of the best I have ever eaten in my life! Lillian has an amazing gift with children, and a joy that carries her thought all she does in the day. Some of my favorite memories with her are singing and dancing together to Swahili songs in the kitchen! She also happens to have a mad talent for braiding and dreams of opening her own salon someday. Her and Anderson have enriched life in this household and have become dear friends to all of us on the team. 

     I have no idea what the future holds, but I hope it brings me back to Kenya once again someday! I have a strange feeling it will!!! 

Engine Failure.

We are children of the day.

It's no wonder our enemy would picks a fight with us in the night.

12:00 am, sometime around the end of April. All of S-Squad is boarded on the plane to begin our final half of The World Race. 

Destination: Nairobi, Kenya.

The plane starts up, and a few moments later, 

        b l a c k  o u t. 

Praise the good Lord, we were not yet in the sky. 

The lights turn on after about 30 seconds and the problem is announced over the intercom- in Thai. We anxiously await the English translation, and find out. No big deal, it's just the failure of the *right engine*.

I sit there, scrunched into my tiny little plane seat and realize, "it figures!" 

It only makes sense that in route to the next continent we would encounter some kind of problem... something to stall us and prevent us from moving forward. Isn't that just so typical in life?  

12 am usually means very physically, and often emotionally exhausted World Racers.

By the time all of this had happened, the safety instruction video was already finished, and there was now a comedy gag show playing on the overhead screens for everyone to see. 

What a random thing to see on the plane. Or was it?

The very first gag I noticed, was of a bride at the end of her wedding, whose dress was completely destroyed by an unsuspecting photographer's assistant. The assistant's job was to pop the party popper as the bride came out of the church. Instead of beautiful, colorful streamers, a stream of a thick, black oil like substance came out of the popper, completely destroying the bride's beautiful, previously spotless dress. It a single moment, the bride was defiled and dirty.

Throughout the plane, passengers here and there erupt in laughter. 

The humor, that it was funny to unsuspectingly defile the bride. 

Like a punch in the gut, it struck me. 

The symbolism behind what was playing before our eyes was much too shocking to ignore. I realized at that moment, the plane and its passengers  were experiencing more than just mechanical problems, this was a *spiritual attack* on the entire squad.

"Let us rejoice and be glad and give Him glory! 

For the wedding of the Lamb has come, 

and his bride has made herself ready. 

Fine linen, bright and clean, 

was given for her to wear." 

(Fine linen stands for the righteous acts of the saints.) 

In these verses from Revelation, CHRIST CLEARLY CALLS US, HIS CHURCH, HIS BRIDE.

Was what I seeing on TV and the engine failure all a coincidence? Or is there truly more going on in the world behind what our eyes can see. Ephesians tells us that we do not battle flesh and blood, but spiritual forces in the Heavenly realms. 

Rather than stopping to pray in desperate situations, the desire of the enemy is that we become distracted, and even, often, by seemingly innocent things such as TV shows, magazine advertisements or even sleep. 

On the night that Jesus was arrested, He told them to keep guard while He went to a quiet place to pray. Upon returning to His disciples, He found them sleeping and asked, "Could you not keep watch for one hour?"

One thing my team has been a part of this month is daily hour long prayer meetings. When is the last time you prayed for an hour? When is the last time you prayed for 5 minutes? God asks us to call upon His name, but if we don't, He has promised us nothing- nothing at all!

Wake up those who are sleeping!

Be on your guard! 

We are fighting a battle! 

S-Squad ended up making it safely to Kenya, and our time here has been amazing! I'm so excited to share with you all about what's been happening. I must tell you honestly though, it has not been without more attack. People on my squad have fallen sick, had things stolen, and been attacked in other ways that I may not even know of. We need your prayers as we continue to run this race! 

Thanks so much for partnering with all of us in this Kingdom endeavor! ! !