God-Walk Perspective

I think I could live just about anywhere as long as it is close to a raised bit of earth. It would have to be high enough so that I could climb and get above where my normal life takes place, but it wouldn't have to be too tall. There's something about being above it all that gives you perspective, partly because you're getting away, but partly because you're seeing a bigger picture.

Everywhere I have lived I go looking for such a spot. In northern Kenya I lived at the base of Mount Marsabit, a highland oasis in the desert lands. Amidst the shepherds and their flocks, I would hike up to various vantage points to sit, and look, and pray. When I first moved to Colorado, I lived close to several parks and open spaces--my options for getting above it all seemed endless there.

The first time I moved in Colorado I figured I had given up convenient access to wild heights. One day, a few weeks after my move, I was walking along a nice city path, but missing my normal haunts. I had walked the path up and down several times before, but it just didn't seem to have much to offer. On this particular occasion I spotted a path leading up to the left that I had not really noticed before. Thinking it would dead-end in a neighborhood since it was just a feeder trail, I grew more curious as the path kept leading up, further and further. And to my amazement and sheer delight this other path led to a large loop which offered panoramic views of the mountains and city. There was even a little wilderness-like area with rocks to sit on and soak in God's beautiful creation, listening to Him speak to me. I decided to call it my "God-Walk." It reminded me of His care and provision and walking it always seemed to give me His big-picture perspective.

Now with my latest move I was expecting something similar. So, on my first free day I went walking on a city path and after quite some time following it in the heat of the day I was disappointed. It didn't have what I was looking for. How could I live here? The houses were so close together. Where could I get away? I was feeling antsy.

But God had something even better in mind for me this time. About a week later my new roommate told me how to easily access some open space behind our development. Within five minutes from our house I was hiking up to the rock outcroppings peppering the area. Once again, I had my God-Walk and something settled in my heart--I knew I could live here. Wandering and sitting there just about every afternoon during that week I discovered again that God works in our hearts when we get away, when we go to a quiet place. He offers his wisdom, his perspective, his kindness, and grace.

Whenever I read Ephesians 3:6, I picture what it says, "And God raised us up with Christ and seated us in the heavenly realms in Christ Jesus." God's big-picture perspective is really available to me at all times because I am already seated with him in the highest place. Could I have lived here if God had not provided a physically high vantage point? I think that the answer has to be, "yes", but in his graciousness God knew I needed another God-Walk at this season in my life. And God is gracious and kind. Verse 7 says he seated us in the heavenly realms, "in order that in the coming ages he might show the incomparable riches of his grace, expressed in his kindness to us in Christ Jesus." What a good God He is!

Letters from Africa: P is for Polepole

Haraka haraka haina baraka. (Fast, fast brings no blessing.)

Polepole ndiyo mwendo. (Going slowly is the way.)

Travelers to East Africa soon hear these two important proverbs. But long before they master these sayings, they will likely encounter and wrestle with the deeply embedded cultural value that they represent—a slower pace of life, where long, quiet pauses are frequent, wedding guests willingly wait for hours for the bride and groom to arrive, and rush and hurry are out of place.

Contrast this to the Western lifestyle where we zip around at 65-75 miles per hour, running from activity to activity at a frenzied pace. We fill up the space in our lives with achievement, productivity, entertainment, and plenty of noise. We feel uncomfortable when there is even a short pause in conversation. “Time is money” so it’s best not to waste it by waiting around. We think that slow things are antiquated and that instant gratification is the only worthwhile kind.

So when a Westerner visits East Africa they react to polepole  in one of two ways. 1) They resist it, try to change it, insist on haraka haraka, complain about it, inevitable get angry and frustrated because of it or 2) they embrace it, learn from it, find joy, peace, and relationship within it, and begin to enjoy the journey. The fruit of each reaction is obvious. The first group leaves exhausted, drained, and without having gained or given anything while the second group breathes deeply and is transformed. Blessings flow to others as they learn to appreciate what this new approach to life has to offer and teach.

There is a spiritual parallel here that we don’t want to miss. In Isaiah 30:15 God addresses the nation of Israel. “In repentance and rest is your salvation, in quietness and trust is your strength, but you would have none of it.” Repent, rest, be quiet, and trust—these are all words of turning and slowing, of waiting, of receiving from the Lord, receiving His salvation and strength in His timing and way. Sadly, like those reacting in the first way to the slow pace in East Africa, the nation of Israel insisted on resisting God’s way. Instead they trusted in the swiftness and strength of horses (v. 16-17). They tried to save themselves in their own timing and way. God said it would not work.

However, in verse 18 we see God’s heart as Isaiah says, “Yet the Lord longs to be gracious to you; he rises to show you compassion. For the Lord is a God of justice. Blessed are all who wait for him!” God has amazing promises of blessings for them if they are simply willing to wait. Outlined in verses 19-33 we see these blessings: weeping will cease, God will answer prayers, knowledge, wisdom, and understanding will not be hidden, divine direction will be available, God will be honored as false gods are abandoned, there will be a provision of physical and material needs, healing will occur, there will be rejoicing, God’s enemies will be defeated, and God’s name and voice will be known and heard. Ultimately God will be glorified. Wow! God’s graciousness is rich with blessing. Why would we want to do it any other way? But the truth is, just like the Israelites, often we want to “have none of it.”

Can we begin to grasp the simplicity and yet our struggle here? We have to slow down and wait. There is something that happens as we do this—we receive. Relationship and blessings abound. We hear Jesus’ whisper inviting us, “Come with me by yourselves to a quiet place and get some rest” (Mark 6:31), but yet we don’t always come. He is saying, come, slow down, just be with me. Stop your doing, your running, your striving, and just be with me for awhile and I’ll work it all out. He is longing to be gracious to us and to bless us if we are willing to make space and time for Him. What an invitation! The question is which reaction is yours?  Are you sprinting haraka haraka on your own or learning to walk polepole with Him?

Letters from Africa: A is for Asante

It was a packed house at the local primary school. The guests of honor were ushered in amidst a colorful mass of humanity. The excited mammas had turned out in their brightest and best. Their children, as many as could fit in the corrugated, sheet metal building, wore their bright blue uniforms with pride. The guests, seated on a rough, wooden platform in the front, drank their warm sodas out of glass bottles and enjoyed a humble meal of rice and stew. The mammas' faces shone with joy as they danced and sang for the guests of honor. Person after person stood up and spoke and offered gift after gift to say asante (thank you).

Thank you--two simple words in English, one simple word in Kiswahili. Surprisingly, visitors to East Africa are often struck by how seemingly impolite Kiswahili-speakers can be. Tafadhali, the word for please is virtually unused and asante, though heard more often, is not sprinkled throughout human interactions the way it is in North America. Yet in comparison, so many times here we utter our thank yous without even thinking. We thank people who serve use, we send out our thank you notes, we follow the proper etiquette, but how many times do we genuinely have a thankful heart towards those to whom we direct our words? Instead we tend to approach life with a sense of entitlement. We want our preferences, our choices, our desires, our wants to be priority. We think we should get what we want whenever we want it.

Asante may not be the most frequently used word in East Africa, but it certainly is an attitude held by many there. I am humbled when I think about the men, women, and children whom I served in the central highlands of Kenya. So often it felt like we were doing so little for them. The need was so great and what we had to offer seemed so small. With humble thanks and reverence for God, most would welcome the material help we were able to provide and held us in very high esteem. My friends in that subsistence-farming community knew what is was to be in need, so they genuinely appreciated even the small things. Though the list of what we were able to accomplish in our programs did not seem very long, somehow it had helped to inspire hope. But that hope did not start with us, my friends had already planted the seed with their asante-approach to life and God caused it to grow (Isaiah 61:11).

The Bible tells us in 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18 to "Be joyful always; pray continually; give thanks in all circumstances, for this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus." My friends were already taking God at his Word by the time I came along--they were being joyful, they were praying, they were giving thanks in all circumstances. By modeling such, they gave me much more than I ever gave them and for that I say with genuine gratitude, "asante sana! (thank you very much!)"

Living Simply...a Blessed Life

We know the sayings, "less is more" and "bigger isn't always better" yet how often do most of us really live that way? A few years ago God blessed me and my roommates with a huge house. We had prayed for each item in it, three bedrooms, three bathrooms, a finished basement, a bathtub. You name it, we had asked for it. We had asked for comfort for ourselves, but also a nice place to share with others. The house we found fit our requests down to the very details and more. The more was that I could walk to work, which most of the time really ended up meaning that I could sleep in a little later and drive to work in just a few minutes. The years in that house were truly blessed.

About a month ago I moved. Though the new house was very nice and I was grateful for the provision of a place to live, it seemed like a downgrade after being so "blessed" before. I would have to drive a lot further, my room would be smaller, and my total living space would shrink at least by half. I rationalized that I had been spoiled before and now I would simply be going back to normal life, but perhaps less blessed.

But God is reminding me of the simple things...like being able to finish the house cleaning in under 30 minutes, so there's more time for friends and fun. Driving 15 or 20 minutes to work each day, so there's more time to reflect and pray and oh yeah, wake up. Living simply is giving me less physical space, but it's amazing how life seems to have opened up more.

Afterall it wasn't really the house that was the blessing before anyway, it was the time spent building relationships in that place. It turns out people still like to visit and hang out in a smaller house and it could be that I am actually more at home with this simpler life, this blessed life, too!

"But seek first his kingdom and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well." - Matthew 6:33

The Rock on Which I Stand

“What, this is it?!” This was my reaction as we reached the end of the trail. Some friends and I had been hiking on a trail none of us had ever been on before. It was a magnificent trail, right in the heart of a canyon complete with sheer walls of rock and pinnacles hundreds of feet above us. After a few miles of hiking eventually the trail began to lead out of the canyon. Our anticipation grew as we started ascending. Further up we could see views of the surrounding hills and mountains full of evergreens. What a grand place we must be heading to. I could picture it, a panoramic vista complete with rocks to climb and sit on as we took in God’s beautiful creation. We’d be able to rest and eat and then head back down again energized by the heights.

It is an understatement to say that I was a bit disappointed when we reached the top and found a dusty road, no place to sit, and virtually no view. Why would someone create a trail that seemingly led to nowhere important? So, instead of enjoying what I had been envisioning, after a quick look around, we headed back down. Somehow the beauty of the trail seemed lost. What was the point? Now of course I could go into the details of how the hike gave us the opportunity to exercise and fellowship, see someplace new, etc., but honestly those weren’t the main reasons I had trekked all the way. I had wanted to see and experience something better at the destination, so I felt jipped.

So often life treats us like that. God seems to open a door, we get a truly inspired idea, a relationship starts, we branch out in a new direction. At first it seems so right, we walk along and can’t believe the new things we’re seeing and doing, we’re enjoying the sights and what God is up to. As we progress the climb gets a little steeper, but we’re not discouraged, the trail must be leading somewhere, it must be worth the effort and work, not to mention that the views so far are great. And then it comes—this trail doesn’t really lead anywhere. There’s nothing at the top. We ask, what was the point? Why did that happen? It seemed so right. We so easily discount the beautiful journey because it didn’t turn out the way we wanted or expected, so we head back down quick, this time missing the sights because we’re hung up on the fact that God didn’t come through for us. What started out so great didn’t turn out the way we expected. He led us along a path that led nowhere. People will chime in and say, well maybe you didn’t go the right way, maybe you got off course there. Or others will try the more positive approach saying that the next climb is sure to have what you’re looking for, so don’t be afraid to try again. Just keep hoping. But they have missed the true point.

This is what I’ve found. You can be following God completely and a trail can have a dismal finale. But even though you don’t understand why a trail that God opened up would seem to lead nowhere, as you descend and release your disappointment to Him, His whisper begins to win you over again. Hints of beauty break in and pretty soon life is not looking so bleak. Though the sights are the same as what you saw before and the trail you hiked led nowhere, God is still in control and He still knows what will speak to your heart, what you need to see and do, even if you’re right back where you started. And the truth is you may be back where you started, but you’re not actually the same. Even though it seems like nothing changed, God did something in your heart on the journey. You now know that life sometimes feels like you’re wandering without a destination, but the fact is that you are headed somewhere, towards someone and the best way to get there is to keep walking and following His voice. Pretty soon you realize that He’s not only in front of you, but he’s also behind you, and above you, and on either side, He’s right there inside of you. He has not moved. Pretty soon you realize that He’s enough and all the sights you saw and all the sights you hoped to see, don’t compare to who you’re looking at now—the Rock on which you stand!

My hope is built on nothing less
Than Jesus' blood and righteousness;
I dare not trust the sweetest frame,
But wholly lean on Jesus' name.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When darkness veils His lovely face,
I rest on His unchanging grace;
In every high and stormy gale
My anchor holds within the veil.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

His oath, His covenant, and blood
Support me in the whelming flood;
When every earthly prop gives way,
He then is all my Hope and Stay.
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.

When He shall come with trumpet sound,
Oh, may I then in Him be found,
Clothed in His righteousness alone,
Faultless to stand before the throne!
On Christ, the solid Rock, I stand;
All other ground is sinking sand.
(Words by Edward Mote)

Red Light, Green Light

As I sat in the dark watching the cars stop and start at the four-way traffic light, I couldn’t help but think of the parallels between what was happening in front of me and my spiritual journey. God has me at a red light right now. I wonder when the waiting will end, when it will be my turn to go forward, to turn, to at least move. Watching the cars stop and go I realized just how close everyone was away from a fatal crash. If one car went when it wasn’t its turn it wouldn’t have been good for that car or the one it hit. It wouldn’t have been good for anyone not to have waited.

But waiting on God is hard. It feels like it would just be easier if you knew how long the wait would be. At least with traffic lights you know your turn will come around sometime. That is unless the light is broken and in that case it really was supposed to be your turn, but the system just didn’t work right. I wonder if that is part of it. We do live in a broken, messed up world and even though our master engineer works beautiful things out of the junk the fact is that sometimes things just don’t work right.

One thing I heard recently was the idea that we shouldn’t always wait for green lights. God is more in the business of giving us red lights to protect us, but he wants us to move forward in faith, so maybe sometimes we’re sitting at an intersection and it doesn’t have any signals. Sometimes we’re just supposed to go. How do we know? Well if our eyes are open and we’re not color blind we’ll see the red lights.  We won’t be able to miss them. In other cases the rules for stopping and going at intersections are more discretionary.

A harder question though is how do we know if something is always going to be a red light and we need to go another way or if at some point it will turn green? How long do we wait before we move in another direction? Is the red light a barrier that won’t come down or just a light on a timer, like the one that I witnessed in action beautifully conducting traffic. Timing, God’s timing is mysterious.

Recently I moved from a house that was a very short distance from where I work to a house that has tripled my commute time. Though it is hardly a distance to complain about I have found myself waiting at more traffic lights than usual and it has reminded me of my impatience. For me, I think I usually give up on waiting before things have fully been birthed. I rush ahead thinking this must be it, only to have my hopes disappointed.  How long can I sit and wait and not do, just be? Can I wait or must I always rush ahead? I want to wait. I want to be ok in this place of not knowing what or when or where or how or even whom? I want to wait at this light for a little while longer even though it is hard.

"Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope: Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, 'The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait patiently for him.' The LORD is good to those whose hope is in him, to the one who seeks him; it is good to wait quietly for the salvation of the LORD." - Lamentations 3:21-26