3-29-10
As I got up from my chair, shivers of anxiety and excitement thrilled my soul. I stopped typing, my hands lifted from the keys, and I moved into the chair next to the computer. A man was standing next to me and as soon as I had taken my seat in the other chair, he took my previous seat, put his hands on the keyboard and started typing away. I watched the letters dance on the screen as he typed a brilliant story full of wonder, learning, passion, and sometimes pain. However, some parts started getting monotonous so I tried to speak up. “Would you like your chair back?” He asked. “No, no, please continue.” After that the monotony didn’t stop, and then he started to write things that sounded completely awful; heartbreak, separation, but worse—more monotony. The typing stopped. He looked at me and said, “Wait right there, I’m going to get a drink of water. Do not touch the computer.” He got up and left the room. I knew that even though the story sounded a little bit boring, and was not what I wanted to see, I couldn’t touch the keys. I had given up control and deep down, I knew this story was the best that could be written. However I kept reading more of the story and his writing style didn’t match up with mine. He got way to descriptive and I saw entire paragraphs that could be omitted. So I just reached over from my chair and hit backspace a couple times. Then I saw this sentence that was really arduous so I decided to rewrite it and spice it up a little. Then the fact that he had stopped mid-sentence overtook me and I had to finish his sentence. Pretty soon I was in the chair and typing again, faster and with a control-stricken fury. Time had passed, I wasn’t sure how much time, but I knew it was more time that it took to get a drink of water. I got up, walked to the kitchen, but he was nowhere to be found. Terror struck my mind and rattled my nerves. Did I drive him away? Would I be alone once more? I ran back over to the computer in a daze. He was sitting in my chair with his hands on the keys prepared to write. He smiled and told me to sit down. As I got in my chair, he said, “You changed some things.” My face dimmed with shame. “Yes.” I muttered. “Not bad.” He said. Puzzled I looked up at him and said, “Really?” With a hint of sadness in his eyes he told me. “It’s not bad, but it certainly isn’t that good. I was just getting to the good part and you changed it. I can’t hit backspace, but if you want I will keep typing. However, the good part will have to wait.” I couldn’t believe how foolish I had been. The weight of the damage I had done by hitting a few keys struck me full force. “You really will continue?” I asked, surprised that he wasn’t furious with me. “I will continue as long as you will give me this chair. You have touched my story, tried to put in your input as if I had been mistaken. But, you forget that it is I who created you, who shaped you, who first loved you and awoke love within you. You forget that I created all this, and you forget my character. You don’t trust that I am good, that I am caring, that I am love. Even though you forget, and even though you will forget again, as long as you will let me, I will stay in this chair. And even when you forget, when you get angry with me, when you take control, I will not forget about you. My grace will still be there for you. My love will still be burning for you. Trust my story, Kyle. Trust that I know how to write, that I love you, that I know what is best for you. Stop worrying, stop critiquing and just live in my story.” With tears welling in my eyes I buried my face in His shoulder and apologized for not trusting despite His goodness that He has proved time and time again. He just put His hand on my shoulder and said, “Stop feeling sorry, get out there and live the words that I am writing for you. Live in my story, embrace my adventures, shine through the world’s pain, and get lost in love.”
--
I am in the middle of about four different books right now. One of them I just started. It is a really great book and really great story that has sold millions of copies, but sometimes the author’s writing style sometimes annoys me. He can get lost on less-than-important tangents and can get too caught up in his descriptive words. I feel like taking my red pen to the book and making it more concise. This morning I was thinking about my life and reading another book about God authoring my story. I thought about how I sometimes want to take my red pen to God’s story and throw in my stellar human input. I realized how foolish this was and things started to fall into perspective. I am at the perfect age for worrying about my future. I am especially worried at the rest of this year. But, with this kick in the rear God gave me, I feel more at peace. I feel more ready to trust His plan for my life. I feel less afraid, knowing that God is going to catapult me into a great adventure and use me to do something worthwhile. I just have to trust. I can only trust Him if I know Him. I have to remember His character and daily choose to die with Him, and daily choose to live in His love.
Monday, March 29, 2010
Saturday, March 27, 2010
Fiery Passion
3-28-2010
It is 4:00am. No, I didn’t wake up early—I still haven’t gone to bed. This is a bad habit. I had broken it. I was going to bed consistently at 12 or 1 many nights, but I have fallen back into the vicious cycle of 3 or 4. I like staying up late. I like how quiet it is. The world is asleep and I get to stay up obsessing about life. It’s my time where I get to pour out my frustrations and anger to God and He gets to smile, nod His head, and listen. I like that God is not afraid of my emotions.
This was a good week. My schedule was messed up because of the holidays so I ended up having to teach on Friday. I was at the center from 3:30-8:30. I realize that is only 5 hours, but its more than I’m used to doing on a Friday. Before I went to work I ended up scrambling trying to write quizzes for idioms and grade writing assignments. We had nothing prepared for Friday Club either, but somehow it all came together in the end. I finished class right at 6:30 (which is the time Friday Club starts) and I quickly thought of a little game that we could start with; during this game Steven made discussion questions; during the movie I printed off another activity involving some Proverbs; at the end we had a very successful meeting. I actually kind of liked having a busy Friday. It was an opportunity to get into my work.
In life we long for freedom and security, but we rarely find both. Most people work in a steady job with all their fancy benefits and get a consistent paycheck every two weeks and feel secure. Many people long for the government to step in and take care of them—this will make them feel secure. But, in this process of gaining comfy, cozy security we often give up freedom—the power to do what we want when we want. So logically we have to find a balance, however most people do not live in the balance, they live in the extremes. Think about your life; you’re probably secure, but if you wanted to pick up and go to a different state and do a different job, could you? Would you? I was thinking how lucky I am to be here in Kazakhstan. I am young, and here I have this opportunity to be both secure and free. Something I am cherishing, because soon it will be all gone. When I go back to school, I will be secure with my cafeteria account balance and my curfew-enforced dorm, but my freedoms will be gone. When I graduate school I will be able to do whatever I want, but until I find some sort of job, I will have no security.
While this perfect balance of freedom and security is ruling in my life, I still have problems. This week I have been struggling with an unsettling problem—I lack passion. I like teaching English, but it is a hard job to get passionate about. I realize that my personality, my being, yearns for passion. Whatever I do in life, wherever I go, I need passion. I’m not talking about comfy, cozy passion either. I am not talking about contained passion, but rather bursting, fiery passion that flows through my veins and ignites my soul. I need passion. I need a girl to love, a job to throw myself into, a child to hold, a God to serve, a family to fellowship with. I need to feel energy coming out from inside me, enthusiasm driving me, love welling up within me, and joy consuming me.
Take a second to reflect. What are you passionate about? Are you living in fanatical passion? Why not? I have decided to read 8 books in less than 3 months as well as work on some big writing projects. In one of those books I found a quote that has really shaped my thinking. John Eldridge in “Wild at Heart” tells me that I shouldn’t think about what this world needs. Instead I should think about what inspires me, ignites me, gets the passion flowing in me, because what this world needs is people that are passionate. That’s hardly an exact quote, but it summarizes his main point. So this morning, with wide eyes, but a tired mind I am praying for passion. For the ability to fall in love with my students and teach English like it’s a matter of life and death. For the ability to get excited for going back to school, and for the ability to get so caught up in every moment that I stop thinking about my future. I get so caught up with planning, so caught up with pondering, that I think about life while it passes me by. I’m tired of thinking. I want to live it—to live life in fervent, zealous, fanatical, obsessive passion. Passion that drives me to love like Jesus and overflow with pure, senseless joy.I am searching for passion...
It is 4:00am. No, I didn’t wake up early—I still haven’t gone to bed. This is a bad habit. I had broken it. I was going to bed consistently at 12 or 1 many nights, but I have fallen back into the vicious cycle of 3 or 4. I like staying up late. I like how quiet it is. The world is asleep and I get to stay up obsessing about life. It’s my time where I get to pour out my frustrations and anger to God and He gets to smile, nod His head, and listen. I like that God is not afraid of my emotions.
This was a good week. My schedule was messed up because of the holidays so I ended up having to teach on Friday. I was at the center from 3:30-8:30. I realize that is only 5 hours, but its more than I’m used to doing on a Friday. Before I went to work I ended up scrambling trying to write quizzes for idioms and grade writing assignments. We had nothing prepared for Friday Club either, but somehow it all came together in the end. I finished class right at 6:30 (which is the time Friday Club starts) and I quickly thought of a little game that we could start with; during this game Steven made discussion questions; during the movie I printed off another activity involving some Proverbs; at the end we had a very successful meeting. I actually kind of liked having a busy Friday. It was an opportunity to get into my work.
In life we long for freedom and security, but we rarely find both. Most people work in a steady job with all their fancy benefits and get a consistent paycheck every two weeks and feel secure. Many people long for the government to step in and take care of them—this will make them feel secure. But, in this process of gaining comfy, cozy security we often give up freedom—the power to do what we want when we want. So logically we have to find a balance, however most people do not live in the balance, they live in the extremes. Think about your life; you’re probably secure, but if you wanted to pick up and go to a different state and do a different job, could you? Would you? I was thinking how lucky I am to be here in Kazakhstan. I am young, and here I have this opportunity to be both secure and free. Something I am cherishing, because soon it will be all gone. When I go back to school, I will be secure with my cafeteria account balance and my curfew-enforced dorm, but my freedoms will be gone. When I graduate school I will be able to do whatever I want, but until I find some sort of job, I will have no security.
While this perfect balance of freedom and security is ruling in my life, I still have problems. This week I have been struggling with an unsettling problem—I lack passion. I like teaching English, but it is a hard job to get passionate about. I realize that my personality, my being, yearns for passion. Whatever I do in life, wherever I go, I need passion. I’m not talking about comfy, cozy passion either. I am not talking about contained passion, but rather bursting, fiery passion that flows through my veins and ignites my soul. I need passion. I need a girl to love, a job to throw myself into, a child to hold, a God to serve, a family to fellowship with. I need to feel energy coming out from inside me, enthusiasm driving me, love welling up within me, and joy consuming me.
Take a second to reflect. What are you passionate about? Are you living in fanatical passion? Why not? I have decided to read 8 books in less than 3 months as well as work on some big writing projects. In one of those books I found a quote that has really shaped my thinking. John Eldridge in “Wild at Heart” tells me that I shouldn’t think about what this world needs. Instead I should think about what inspires me, ignites me, gets the passion flowing in me, because what this world needs is people that are passionate. That’s hardly an exact quote, but it summarizes his main point. So this morning, with wide eyes, but a tired mind I am praying for passion. For the ability to fall in love with my students and teach English like it’s a matter of life and death. For the ability to get excited for going back to school, and for the ability to get so caught up in every moment that I stop thinking about my future. I get so caught up with planning, so caught up with pondering, that I think about life while it passes me by. I’m tired of thinking. I want to live it—to live life in fervent, zealous, fanatical, obsessive passion. Passion that drives me to love like Jesus and overflow with pure, senseless joy.I am searching for passion...
Thursday, March 25, 2010
Counting and Contemplating
3-24-2010
Around 5 months ago I signed up to be a student missionary. I had no idea what to expect, but I figured it would be something like venturing throughout a tropical climate, perhaps a remote island in the pacific, sharing my faith with the indigenous people. I wanted to end up in a Spanish speaking country doing some practical skill rather than direct ministry.
You see the only thing I had ever really done was direct ministry, so naturally I wanted to try my hand at something different. When I heard about Kazakhstan I thought of Eskimos and cold weather. Then I heard it was a big city I’d be going to. I made it up in my mind that I would be going to a foreign-version of Chicago. When I got here I was surprised—surprised at everything. The city was big, intimidating, and more foreign than the imagined version in my mind. My apartment was small, unfamiliar, and dirty-looking. After living in this city and this apartment for over 2 months I have, like all humans do, become accustomed to my surroundings. I have adapted. I video chatted with my family this week and gave them a little tour of my apartment. I watched as their faces scrunched up at the sight of my cramped kitchen and Soviet-style bathroom. It was then that I started noticing things that I had learn to live with. I started to take notice of the simple things that I miss in America. For example I have to take a match to my stove and oven every time I light it. That’s not anything rough, but it’s inconvenient and I miss the automatic igniters back home. Another thing is a garbage disposal. That is one amazing invention that I think every American takes for granted. I mean really—who thinks about their garbage disposal? Try living without one and you will quickly realize that it greases the gears of life better than any other kitchen invention. Then there is the dryer. I cannot wait to return to that wondrous spinning machine that fluffs up my clothes, making them not only dry, by soft and smelling delicious. Aside from the things I miss I also realized the simple plights that have become routine to deal with. Things like Soviet plumbing (constantly leaking faucets and toilets) and a washing machine with a mind of its own (sometimes it will wash your clothes in 45 minutes other times you will have to wait 5 hours for it to spit them back out). However, I realize that I am not “roughing it” by any means. After all, I have indoor plumbing, electricity, endless hot water, a washing machine, a completely functional kitchen, and access to the internet with a high speed connection. These are only some of the blessings that I am constantly counting.
I was asked this week if I felt as though I was truly reaching out to people and touching lives for the glory of God. I had to be honest, and I had to honestly say no. Do I feel like a missionary? No, not in the glorified sense of the word. I feel like a wandering teenager who volunteered to add some adventure to his life and seek God outside of his normal frame of mind. I think that is important for people to do. Many people attempt to seek a spiritual experience with a Being that is immense, enormous, and beyond us with a very small worldview. If your view of this world is small then your view of things beyond this world is going to be a plethora of degrees beyond microscopic. I realized that I am perhaps an adventure junkie. I am a riotous human longing for experiences.
If you were to ask me what I like most about my experience here in Kazakhstan I would be able to come up with many positive things, but I think one that stands tall is the absence of micromanagement. Here, I am treated like a real adult. Normally, I am either at home where I naturally cling to the hood of my parents and become like a child or I am at school paying bucket-loads to be treated like a child. Here, I actually feel competent to make my own decisions and live my life as I see fit. I am an adult living in an apartment with a roommate making my own day-to-day decisions. As long as I show up for work and do my job, I don’t get asked any questions. I choose where I go during the day, when I sleep, where I sleep, what I eat and what I drink. I am living in freedom to make my own decisions—my own mistakes. I think this is where most of my learning experience is coming from.
I find it funny that many Christians are incredibly obsessed with micromanagement. Now, I’m not saying we should start having co-ed dorms in every Christian university and I’m not saying that we should open up Christian bars and nightclubs either, but maybe if we started letting young people feel like adults they would think of themselves more as adults? I really don’t know—just a thought. But, I was thinking today about how God has never been into micromanaging. He is all for helping us out when we have nowhere to turn and He promises a never-ending, colossal dose of love, but He is not into forcing any decisions or telling us what to do. He freely offers advice and I strongly believe He directs us in the right paths, but I don’t think He is really into our day-to-day decisions or nagging us into a specific way of life. If you took a second to think how God has led you, you would probably have a very vague strange twist of events where you might have felt a nudge or two, but ultimately made your own decisions. Now I know there are some people that will think I am saying God doesn’t care how you act, but that is a dumb conclusion. Of course a God of love would care about your actions. If you’re not loving, that disturbs Him, and if you are loving, that elates Him. So basically I have just been pondering God’s management style—in my life and in the lives of Biblical figures. He is a very unorthodox Manager. If I were God I would be the most awful and annoying micromanager, but luckily I am not God and the God that is in charge is so obsessed with love that He is unwilling to restrict it in any way. That means we get free choice, and that means that we make a lot of mistakes and many people’s mistakes fall on other people and we wind up in a horrible mess called humanity. God is a good writer, but fortunately he is not like Shakespeare. He doesn’t believe in tragedies—He promises a happy ending. Good thing I believe in happy endings.
Around 5 months ago I signed up to be a student missionary. I had no idea what to expect, but I figured it would be something like venturing throughout a tropical climate, perhaps a remote island in the pacific, sharing my faith with the indigenous people. I wanted to end up in a Spanish speaking country doing some practical skill rather than direct ministry.
You see the only thing I had ever really done was direct ministry, so naturally I wanted to try my hand at something different. When I heard about Kazakhstan I thought of Eskimos and cold weather. Then I heard it was a big city I’d be going to. I made it up in my mind that I would be going to a foreign-version of Chicago. When I got here I was surprised—surprised at everything. The city was big, intimidating, and more foreign than the imagined version in my mind. My apartment was small, unfamiliar, and dirty-looking. After living in this city and this apartment for over 2 months I have, like all humans do, become accustomed to my surroundings. I have adapted. I video chatted with my family this week and gave them a little tour of my apartment. I watched as their faces scrunched up at the sight of my cramped kitchen and Soviet-style bathroom. It was then that I started noticing things that I had learn to live with. I started to take notice of the simple things that I miss in America. For example I have to take a match to my stove and oven every time I light it. That’s not anything rough, but it’s inconvenient and I miss the automatic igniters back home. Another thing is a garbage disposal. That is one amazing invention that I think every American takes for granted. I mean really—who thinks about their garbage disposal? Try living without one and you will quickly realize that it greases the gears of life better than any other kitchen invention. Then there is the dryer. I cannot wait to return to that wondrous spinning machine that fluffs up my clothes, making them not only dry, by soft and smelling delicious. Aside from the things I miss I also realized the simple plights that have become routine to deal with. Things like Soviet plumbing (constantly leaking faucets and toilets) and a washing machine with a mind of its own (sometimes it will wash your clothes in 45 minutes other times you will have to wait 5 hours for it to spit them back out). However, I realize that I am not “roughing it” by any means. After all, I have indoor plumbing, electricity, endless hot water, a washing machine, a completely functional kitchen, and access to the internet with a high speed connection. These are only some of the blessings that I am constantly counting.
I was asked this week if I felt as though I was truly reaching out to people and touching lives for the glory of God. I had to be honest, and I had to honestly say no. Do I feel like a missionary? No, not in the glorified sense of the word. I feel like a wandering teenager who volunteered to add some adventure to his life and seek God outside of his normal frame of mind. I think that is important for people to do. Many people attempt to seek a spiritual experience with a Being that is immense, enormous, and beyond us with a very small worldview. If your view of this world is small then your view of things beyond this world is going to be a plethora of degrees beyond microscopic. I realized that I am perhaps an adventure junkie. I am a riotous human longing for experiences.
If you were to ask me what I like most about my experience here in Kazakhstan I would be able to come up with many positive things, but I think one that stands tall is the absence of micromanagement. Here, I am treated like a real adult. Normally, I am either at home where I naturally cling to the hood of my parents and become like a child or I am at school paying bucket-loads to be treated like a child. Here, I actually feel competent to make my own decisions and live my life as I see fit. I am an adult living in an apartment with a roommate making my own day-to-day decisions. As long as I show up for work and do my job, I don’t get asked any questions. I choose where I go during the day, when I sleep, where I sleep, what I eat and what I drink. I am living in freedom to make my own decisions—my own mistakes. I think this is where most of my learning experience is coming from.
I find it funny that many Christians are incredibly obsessed with micromanagement. Now, I’m not saying we should start having co-ed dorms in every Christian university and I’m not saying that we should open up Christian bars and nightclubs either, but maybe if we started letting young people feel like adults they would think of themselves more as adults? I really don’t know—just a thought. But, I was thinking today about how God has never been into micromanaging. He is all for helping us out when we have nowhere to turn and He promises a never-ending, colossal dose of love, but He is not into forcing any decisions or telling us what to do. He freely offers advice and I strongly believe He directs us in the right paths, but I don’t think He is really into our day-to-day decisions or nagging us into a specific way of life. If you took a second to think how God has led you, you would probably have a very vague strange twist of events where you might have felt a nudge or two, but ultimately made your own decisions. Now I know there are some people that will think I am saying God doesn’t care how you act, but that is a dumb conclusion. Of course a God of love would care about your actions. If you’re not loving, that disturbs Him, and if you are loving, that elates Him. So basically I have just been pondering God’s management style—in my life and in the lives of Biblical figures. He is a very unorthodox Manager. If I were God I would be the most awful and annoying micromanager, but luckily I am not God and the God that is in charge is so obsessed with love that He is unwilling to restrict it in any way. That means we get free choice, and that means that we make a lot of mistakes and many people’s mistakes fall on other people and we wind up in a horrible mess called humanity. God is a good writer, but fortunately he is not like Shakespeare. He doesn’t believe in tragedies—He promises a happy ending. Good thing I believe in happy endings.
Monday, March 22, 2010
Words on the Pages of Life
3-22-2010
I could have a boring life even as a missionary in Kazakhstan. That sounds absurd, but I assure you—it’s entirely possible. However, this weekend was far from boring and it is my goal to stay far, far away from that awful “B” word. What if I told you that I went to the mountains this weekend? Sounds pretty common, eh? What if I told you that I milked a cow this weekend—and not just a plain cow in a barn, but a random, wild cow out in the middle of a field? Not exciting enough? Ok. What if I told you that I had a meal in some family’s traditional Kazakh yurt in the midst of the snow-covered mountains of Kazakhstan? Pretty amazing, I know. But, how about if I top it off by telling you that I ate meat this weekend for the first time in 3 years! Whew! Let me tell you the story...
This weekend started on Friday when we all adventured to Baraholca. That was in the previous blog. Then came Sabbath when we showed up at church a bit late (because I was writing the previous blog), but made it just in time to act out the story of the prodigal son for the children. After church we walked down to our place and waited to go to a nice café for an evening supper (we get out of church around 5-6). However, we never ended up leaving our apartment. The girls and us cooked some food (Panini’s!), drank some coffee, and acted completely silly, but had had boatloads of fun. We finished the night by watching the Matrix. I stayed up late and then woke up early on Sunday to head to the mountains. Steven stayed back at the apartment because he wasn’t feeling so well. He is feeling better now, probably because he did like I wouldn’t have and actually got some rest. I went to meet the girls early in the morning and was running late like always. I hopped on a bus that I knew would get me part way, and it did just that. So as I was venturing around the city looking for another bus to take me the rest of the way, I got lost—again! I walked around for over a half hour and finally ended up walking back to where I had started to find a bus that I had seen numerous times before, but didn’t know it would take me to where I needed to be. I guess I need to be bolder in asking for directions, but it’s a bit difficult when you don’t understand where they tell you to go. When I finally made it to where the girls were at I felt bad for making them wait, but I could see that they were enjoying themselves. Normally, we get a nice-sized group to go to the mountains with us, but the fresh snow was unattractive to the more normal people, so it was just the three of us. By our bus stop—which is near a giant, grand entrance to an unfinished park—there were all these decorations for Nauriz. Nauriz is the Kazakh new year, the first day of Spring—a big holiday for central Asia. Set up were mini yurts and a big marriage swing. A marriage swing is like those swings you see acrobats using at Barnum and Bailey’s circus; the swings that are like a big board with two people standing at opposite ends thrusting the other person into the air. I call it a marriage swing because it is traditional for native Kazakh bride and grooms to swing on a swing like this after their marriage celebration. There is some tradition about seeing who gets higher and what it means and all this other stuff that is completely unbeknownst to me. Anyways, after having our fun on the swing we got on another bus and journeyed up into the mountains. Instead of doing any hardcore hiking, we decided to just stroll around and see what we could find. We soon approached a little stand where people were selling fermented milks and snacks in front of their home. Veronica with her incredible outgoingness and audacity walks into the people’s place and screamed out “Ha-low!” (that is the Russian way of saying “hello”) They came out to serve us and the next thing I knew we were going inside their house. Veronica had pointed to their traditional, and real yurt and said, “moshna?” (May I?) and the lady went inside, cleaned things up and had us sitting on the floor of the comfy warm Kazakh house. We have this thing within our group where we joke about living in yurts when we return to America. We joke about it, but I’m pretty sure Emily is serious (hehe). Anyways, we entered into this yurt and it was amazing! (Pictures to come!) She served us hot tea with milk, bread and butter, some fried sopapilla-like things, and other Kazakh novelties. The main course was of course—meat! You have to understand that being a vegetarian in America is very easy. We have options and people generally accept you as normal and even respect your attempts at living healthfully. Here in Kazakhstan, where meat is a staple food, horse especially, vegetarianism is looked down upon and considered absolutely foolish. I’ve been a vegetarian since I’ve been here and our apartment is always cooking up vegetarian meals, but when I’m in the mountains and some sweet old Kazakh lady is trying to feed me in her home being a vegetarian suddenly became a problem. It became an even bigger problem when I saw her put the skewers of deliciously juicy, well cooked meat on the table (called Shashlik). I decided that I was in Rome and I must do what the Romans do, so I took a piece of meat. After one piece I had to have another and pretty soon it became official—I had killed my vegetarianism. I honestly haven’t tasted meat in almost 3 years, but yesterday I blew it. It was so delicious! I expected to have stomach pain or vomit up a storm, but as of today, I’m still feeling fine. I really was expecting to get sick, if not from the meat, from some bacteria in that yurt! You know the health codes don’t really apply in mountain yurts (not that there is really any health code in Almaty to begin with). Once we had finished up with the yurt we trekked down the road a ways until we ended up just crashing in a wide open area of snow. We had fun with snowball fighting, snow angels, and we even built a little snowman. After messing around we headed out to this cool, ruinous looking place. On our way we saw a bunch of cows. We stopped to play with a younger one and as we were moving on we saw a big mama with full utters. Veronica, again with her audacity, approached the cow and as she made friends with her she reached for her utters and started to milk. Soon Emily and I were yanking on the utters as well. I didn’t know how to do it and it took me awhile to get the feel of it. Veronica filled up a water bottle with a few splashes of the fresh milk and after some hand sanitizer we reveled in the fact that it was the first time milking a cow for all of us. We kept climbing into the mountains and came to this tower for power lines. We climbed up on (being safe of course) and enjoyed the view of the valley below. It was a cloudy day, but the sun was shining through the clouds giving a bright silver glow to the frosty land beneath us. It was a breathtaking sight. After the tower we moved on and approached another mountain that was covered with sheep. We hardly noticed at first because they seemed to blend in with the mountain. I wanted to touch one so I tried to sneak up behind them and then I chased after them. My attempts were unsuccessful, but I walked away satisfied nonetheless. After all this we ran down the mountain, took pictures with a crazy elk statue, then got on the bus back home. The girls dragged me grocery shopping with them so I could help carry their bags home. By the time we got back to their apartment they started cooking some delicious food and it was late, so I decided to crash at their place. I woke up this morning, and we all traveled back to my place and met for a Nauriz celebration. We ventured the city hoping to find some great festivities, but we seemed to have missed them all. My high hopes for Nauriz were a little crushed, but I had an amazing weekend regardless. We cancelled classes for today so I had a three day weekend. Unfortunately, I will have to make up classes on Friday and it will not be a very fun day. So now this week is going to be all messed up for me because my mind still thinks it’s Sunday. It was quite an amazing weekend, but sadly words cannot do it justice. I only covered a small fraction of the excitement in these 1500 words so I will get some pictures up soon and hopefully that can give you some more insight into my crazy life here in this crazy country.
I said earlier that I could have a boring life here in Kazakhstan and it is very true. I have had days where I’ve done nothing, but fortunately those days are few and far between. Is that because I am in a foreign country surrounded by unique opportunities? Hardly. You can, and possibly do have a boring life wherever you are. Is it because of the lack of opportunities? Hardly. Get up and start painting this blank canvas God has given you—He has supplied all the paints, with all the colors and tools you could dream of. Start writing some words on your empty page—God will provide the ink in your pen. One of the saddest things to me is to watch people going through life without living it. Get out and live. Stop asking “how?” and pursue something!
I could have a boring life even as a missionary in Kazakhstan. That sounds absurd, but I assure you—it’s entirely possible. However, this weekend was far from boring and it is my goal to stay far, far away from that awful “B” word. What if I told you that I went to the mountains this weekend? Sounds pretty common, eh? What if I told you that I milked a cow this weekend—and not just a plain cow in a barn, but a random, wild cow out in the middle of a field? Not exciting enough? Ok. What if I told you that I had a meal in some family’s traditional Kazakh yurt in the midst of the snow-covered mountains of Kazakhstan? Pretty amazing, I know. But, how about if I top it off by telling you that I ate meat this weekend for the first time in 3 years! Whew! Let me tell you the story...
This weekend started on Friday when we all adventured to Baraholca. That was in the previous blog. Then came Sabbath when we showed up at church a bit late (because I was writing the previous blog), but made it just in time to act out the story of the prodigal son for the children. After church we walked down to our place and waited to go to a nice café for an evening supper (we get out of church around 5-6). However, we never ended up leaving our apartment. The girls and us cooked some food (Panini’s!), drank some coffee, and acted completely silly, but had had boatloads of fun. We finished the night by watching the Matrix. I stayed up late and then woke up early on Sunday to head to the mountains. Steven stayed back at the apartment because he wasn’t feeling so well. He is feeling better now, probably because he did like I wouldn’t have and actually got some rest. I went to meet the girls early in the morning and was running late like always. I hopped on a bus that I knew would get me part way, and it did just that. So as I was venturing around the city looking for another bus to take me the rest of the way, I got lost—again! I walked around for over a half hour and finally ended up walking back to where I had started to find a bus that I had seen numerous times before, but didn’t know it would take me to where I needed to be. I guess I need to be bolder in asking for directions, but it’s a bit difficult when you don’t understand where they tell you to go. When I finally made it to where the girls were at I felt bad for making them wait, but I could see that they were enjoying themselves. Normally, we get a nice-sized group to go to the mountains with us, but the fresh snow was unattractive to the more normal people, so it was just the three of us. By our bus stop—which is near a giant, grand entrance to an unfinished park—there were all these decorations for Nauriz. Nauriz is the Kazakh new year, the first day of Spring—a big holiday for central Asia. Set up were mini yurts and a big marriage swing. A marriage swing is like those swings you see acrobats using at Barnum and Bailey’s circus; the swings that are like a big board with two people standing at opposite ends thrusting the other person into the air. I call it a marriage swing because it is traditional for native Kazakh bride and grooms to swing on a swing like this after their marriage celebration. There is some tradition about seeing who gets higher and what it means and all this other stuff that is completely unbeknownst to me. Anyways, after having our fun on the swing we got on another bus and journeyed up into the mountains. Instead of doing any hardcore hiking, we decided to just stroll around and see what we could find. We soon approached a little stand where people were selling fermented milks and snacks in front of their home. Veronica with her incredible outgoingness and audacity walks into the people’s place and screamed out “Ha-low!” (that is the Russian way of saying “hello”) They came out to serve us and the next thing I knew we were going inside their house. Veronica had pointed to their traditional, and real yurt and said, “moshna?” (May I?) and the lady went inside, cleaned things up and had us sitting on the floor of the comfy warm Kazakh house. We have this thing within our group where we joke about living in yurts when we return to America. We joke about it, but I’m pretty sure Emily is serious (hehe). Anyways, we entered into this yurt and it was amazing! (Pictures to come!) She served us hot tea with milk, bread and butter, some fried sopapilla-like things, and other Kazakh novelties. The main course was of course—meat! You have to understand that being a vegetarian in America is very easy. We have options and people generally accept you as normal and even respect your attempts at living healthfully. Here in Kazakhstan, where meat is a staple food, horse especially, vegetarianism is looked down upon and considered absolutely foolish. I’ve been a vegetarian since I’ve been here and our apartment is always cooking up vegetarian meals, but when I’m in the mountains and some sweet old Kazakh lady is trying to feed me in her home being a vegetarian suddenly became a problem. It became an even bigger problem when I saw her put the skewers of deliciously juicy, well cooked meat on the table (called Shashlik). I decided that I was in Rome and I must do what the Romans do, so I took a piece of meat. After one piece I had to have another and pretty soon it became official—I had killed my vegetarianism. I honestly haven’t tasted meat in almost 3 years, but yesterday I blew it. It was so delicious! I expected to have stomach pain or vomit up a storm, but as of today, I’m still feeling fine. I really was expecting to get sick, if not from the meat, from some bacteria in that yurt! You know the health codes don’t really apply in mountain yurts (not that there is really any health code in Almaty to begin with). Once we had finished up with the yurt we trekked down the road a ways until we ended up just crashing in a wide open area of snow. We had fun with snowball fighting, snow angels, and we even built a little snowman. After messing around we headed out to this cool, ruinous looking place. On our way we saw a bunch of cows. We stopped to play with a younger one and as we were moving on we saw a big mama with full utters. Veronica, again with her audacity, approached the cow and as she made friends with her she reached for her utters and started to milk. Soon Emily and I were yanking on the utters as well. I didn’t know how to do it and it took me awhile to get the feel of it. Veronica filled up a water bottle with a few splashes of the fresh milk and after some hand sanitizer we reveled in the fact that it was the first time milking a cow for all of us. We kept climbing into the mountains and came to this tower for power lines. We climbed up on (being safe of course) and enjoyed the view of the valley below. It was a cloudy day, but the sun was shining through the clouds giving a bright silver glow to the frosty land beneath us. It was a breathtaking sight. After the tower we moved on and approached another mountain that was covered with sheep. We hardly noticed at first because they seemed to blend in with the mountain. I wanted to touch one so I tried to sneak up behind them and then I chased after them. My attempts were unsuccessful, but I walked away satisfied nonetheless. After all this we ran down the mountain, took pictures with a crazy elk statue, then got on the bus back home. The girls dragged me grocery shopping with them so I could help carry their bags home. By the time we got back to their apartment they started cooking some delicious food and it was late, so I decided to crash at their place. I woke up this morning, and we all traveled back to my place and met for a Nauriz celebration. We ventured the city hoping to find some great festivities, but we seemed to have missed them all. My high hopes for Nauriz were a little crushed, but I had an amazing weekend regardless. We cancelled classes for today so I had a three day weekend. Unfortunately, I will have to make up classes on Friday and it will not be a very fun day. So now this week is going to be all messed up for me because my mind still thinks it’s Sunday. It was quite an amazing weekend, but sadly words cannot do it justice. I only covered a small fraction of the excitement in these 1500 words so I will get some pictures up soon and hopefully that can give you some more insight into my crazy life here in this crazy country.
I said earlier that I could have a boring life here in Kazakhstan and it is very true. I have had days where I’ve done nothing, but fortunately those days are few and far between. Is that because I am in a foreign country surrounded by unique opportunities? Hardly. You can, and possibly do have a boring life wherever you are. Is it because of the lack of opportunities? Hardly. Get up and start painting this blank canvas God has given you—He has supplied all the paints, with all the colors and tools you could dream of. Start writing some words on your empty page—God will provide the ink in your pen. One of the saddest things to me is to watch people going through life without living it. Get out and live. Stop asking “how?” and pursue something!
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Freedom...to Worship
3-20-2010
My blogs lately have been scarce. I apologize, but the website you’re looking at right now only works part time here in Kazakhstan. I think it has something to do with my internet provider and some firewall or whatever. It is too complex for me. So you can be sure that I will be checking my access often and posting whatever back-up blogs I have when I have the chance.
In my last blog, I told you that it had been a crazy week, and a crazy week it really has been. When one thing goes wrong, everything else in the world must figure that it should go wrong as well. Yet, although things went wrong, it seems as though everything is going to be ok. Like there is some Great Manager taking care of these problems one by one. I’m thankful.
Yesterday Steven and I made another journey to Baraholca (see previous entry about Baraholca for more information) with the girls. The market/city is so large that even though you spend hours there, you feel as though you’ve seen nothing. We were pressed for time, so we’ll be going back shortly. We had a blast though. It had been awhile since I’ve been shopping with girls. It requires patience. Haha, but it was fun. The surprising thing was that Steven was buying stuff. I only bought a pair of sunglasses for like 3 bucks, but Steven bought a whole jumpsuit (I’ll let him explain that one) and ski pants and other stuff I’m not even sure about. Normally, he never spends money and I’m the one squandering. It was a fun day.
Church is back on for today. We have not had a formal church service in two weeks because we have been under the watch of a government inspector. Religious freedom is something we hardly even give second thought to in America. Even here in Kazakhstan, we are very free religiously compared to all the other “Stan” countries. Our Christian neighbors like Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan are under high levels of persecution. Here in Kazakhstan, it is hardly a problem, but the threat is real. Not everyone is free to worship how they please. These countries, once under the leadership of the Athiest Soviet Union, had their temples and mosques turned into Darwin-adoring museums and gift shops. Now that the local people are beckoned back to their traditional religion, Islam, things are not looking good for the Christians—especially protestants. So, say a prayer right now and thank God that you are not being punished for your faith. Remember your brothers who are having to fight to give praises to their God and meet with fellow believers. Religious persecution is real in this world. I hope Americans will enjoy this freedom for as long as time lasts. But, if it doesn’t, are you ready? Jesus is coming.
Just a few days ago one of my beautiful grandmothers celebrated her birthday. I was fortunate enough to talk with her, but I wish I could have been there with her. Today my other beautiful grandmother is celebrating her birthday. She has her daughters celebrating with her and much of my family is in the beautiful city of Redding enjoying each other’s company. I must say—I’m jealous. Today, I wish I could be with them. But, for now I must finish my work here. Time is flying by—I don’t want to miss out on the present moment. I’m tired of trying to live in the future.
My blogs lately have been scarce. I apologize, but the website you’re looking at right now only works part time here in Kazakhstan. I think it has something to do with my internet provider and some firewall or whatever. It is too complex for me. So you can be sure that I will be checking my access often and posting whatever back-up blogs I have when I have the chance.
In my last blog, I told you that it had been a crazy week, and a crazy week it really has been. When one thing goes wrong, everything else in the world must figure that it should go wrong as well. Yet, although things went wrong, it seems as though everything is going to be ok. Like there is some Great Manager taking care of these problems one by one. I’m thankful.
Yesterday Steven and I made another journey to Baraholca (see previous entry about Baraholca for more information) with the girls. The market/city is so large that even though you spend hours there, you feel as though you’ve seen nothing. We were pressed for time, so we’ll be going back shortly. We had a blast though. It had been awhile since I’ve been shopping with girls. It requires patience. Haha, but it was fun. The surprising thing was that Steven was buying stuff. I only bought a pair of sunglasses for like 3 bucks, but Steven bought a whole jumpsuit (I’ll let him explain that one) and ski pants and other stuff I’m not even sure about. Normally, he never spends money and I’m the one squandering. It was a fun day.
Church is back on for today. We have not had a formal church service in two weeks because we have been under the watch of a government inspector. Religious freedom is something we hardly even give second thought to in America. Even here in Kazakhstan, we are very free religiously compared to all the other “Stan” countries. Our Christian neighbors like Uzbekistan and Turkmenistan are under high levels of persecution. Here in Kazakhstan, it is hardly a problem, but the threat is real. Not everyone is free to worship how they please. These countries, once under the leadership of the Athiest Soviet Union, had their temples and mosques turned into Darwin-adoring museums and gift shops. Now that the local people are beckoned back to their traditional religion, Islam, things are not looking good for the Christians—especially protestants. So, say a prayer right now and thank God that you are not being punished for your faith. Remember your brothers who are having to fight to give praises to their God and meet with fellow believers. Religious persecution is real in this world. I hope Americans will enjoy this freedom for as long as time lasts. But, if it doesn’t, are you ready? Jesus is coming.
Just a few days ago one of my beautiful grandmothers celebrated her birthday. I was fortunate enough to talk with her, but I wish I could have been there with her. Today my other beautiful grandmother is celebrating her birthday. She has her daughters celebrating with her and much of my family is in the beautiful city of Redding enjoying each other’s company. I must say—I’m jealous. Today, I wish I could be with them. But, for now I must finish my work here. Time is flying by—I don’t want to miss out on the present moment. I’m tired of trying to live in the future.
Friday, March 19, 2010
A Life Worth Living
3-17-2010
This week has flown by. I wish I could describe all the havoc that has gone on and all the crazy stuff that has come my way these past few days, but words cannot do them justice at this point. As I write this I am listening to heavy rain drops colliding with this old Soviet building that I am calling “home”. The tip of my left pointer finger is numb and bandaged. We had some frozen French fries tonight—they were really good. But while trying to open the package with a sharpened butter knife I cut deep through my finger. I know it sounds stupid seeing that it was a butter knife, but remember I said it had been sharpened. It hurt terribly at first and there was quite a bit of blood, but some cold water and a lot of pressure stopped the bleeding in no time. Some antibiotic cream, a band-aid, and next thing you know everything was made fine. I’m pretty sure I cut into a nerve because I have very little feeling in my finger tip; something I am actually grateful for at the moment because for the little time I did have feeling it was nothing but pain and soreness. The finger and the heavy rain have hardly made an impact in the week. They are, as we say in level 2, "icing on the cake." Despite the troubles of this week, or perhaps because of the troubles of this week, I feel strongly that God is alive and present in my life. Something is looking out for me, and I’m glad I know this Something. Despite the horrible fragility of life, the constant danger that lurks in every darkness, the deep pits of uncertainty, the challenges and struggles that so often feel in vain, the blood that seeps from deep wounds, the worry that flies through the restless head, despite all this—I have a big smile on my face. It’s one of those smiles that I cannot explain, a smile that is genuine, that feels as though it comes from nowhere. It may sound stupid and it probably is, but I’m happy tonight. I have plenty of reasons to be miserable, to be angry even, but I think I’ll stick with the smile. Today, I choose the peace that Jesus gives. Today, I choose the joy that stems from a love deeper than any bottomless pit. Today, I choose a life worth living.
This week has flown by. I wish I could describe all the havoc that has gone on and all the crazy stuff that has come my way these past few days, but words cannot do them justice at this point. As I write this I am listening to heavy rain drops colliding with this old Soviet building that I am calling “home”. The tip of my left pointer finger is numb and bandaged. We had some frozen French fries tonight—they were really good. But while trying to open the package with a sharpened butter knife I cut deep through my finger. I know it sounds stupid seeing that it was a butter knife, but remember I said it had been sharpened. It hurt terribly at first and there was quite a bit of blood, but some cold water and a lot of pressure stopped the bleeding in no time. Some antibiotic cream, a band-aid, and next thing you know everything was made fine. I’m pretty sure I cut into a nerve because I have very little feeling in my finger tip; something I am actually grateful for at the moment because for the little time I did have feeling it was nothing but pain and soreness. The finger and the heavy rain have hardly made an impact in the week. They are, as we say in level 2, "icing on the cake." Despite the troubles of this week, or perhaps because of the troubles of this week, I feel strongly that God is alive and present in my life. Something is looking out for me, and I’m glad I know this Something. Despite the horrible fragility of life, the constant danger that lurks in every darkness, the deep pits of uncertainty, the challenges and struggles that so often feel in vain, the blood that seeps from deep wounds, the worry that flies through the restless head, despite all this—I have a big smile on my face. It’s one of those smiles that I cannot explain, a smile that is genuine, that feels as though it comes from nowhere. It may sound stupid and it probably is, but I’m happy tonight. I have plenty of reasons to be miserable, to be angry even, but I think I’ll stick with the smile. Today, I choose the peace that Jesus gives. Today, I choose the joy that stems from a love deeper than any bottomless pit. Today, I choose a life worth living.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Life is Wonderful
3-15-2010
What a weekend! These past couple days were some of the best I’ve had in this country. Sabbath was amazing. I got to sleep in and then we had a little house church in Yelena’s apartment. We just sang praises, studied the Bible, conversed about God, and ate lunch as we fellowshipped together. It was refreshing. After church we got suited-up to go to a Russian theater. One of students arranged tickets for us all to go to see Shakespeare’s “King Lear.” It was a good play, the only thing was we couldn’t understand anything. My student translated and printed out a script so I was able to get familiar with the play before we saw it. Still, it was fun to make up the script in our heads as they dramatically acted it out on stage. It was quite an experience.
Sunday, I woke up at 7:30am. I think that is the earliest I have ever woken up in this country. We ventured on the bus, met the girls, and headed up to the mountains. We went a different mountain this time, a mountain that I hadn’t been to. It was so fun! We hiked up a road, and then found a mountain we wanted to climb, so we went off the trail and hiked straight up this mountain which was half covered with snow and half covered with winter-ridden, thorn-covered bushes. After about 4 hours of hiking we reached the top (well...near enough the top) and we had a picnic. After stuffing ourselves we walked along a ridge and found a snowy place to slide down. We slid on our butts, on our backpacks, on our coats, on our stomachs down steep slopes. Sliding on our stomachs was the best. We coined it “Penguin Sliding” and I am convinced they should turn it into an Olympic sport. We occasionally crashed into some bushes, collided with rocks, dodged trees, and fell off some large embankments. By the time we made it down from the mountain we were all soaking wet, sore and bruised, cut up, but smiling uncontrollably from the craziness and the great fun we all had. It is a day that I will never forget.
I was thinking about life, about all the fun and adventures we have. We often do dangerous, painful things in the name of fun, and would have it no other way. I think of skydiving, paintballing, butt-sledding, and everything else. We read about adventures where people live off the land—eating birds and wild berries. We never think about the process it takes to kill and skin an animal as well as prepare it and we never think about all the sicknesses they go through eating poisonous berries. Good stories and good memories are made by pain, by threatening situations. Even though this mountain adventure is now just a memory, it is a good memory, an exciting part of my story. I want my story to be full of excitement.
So as we were climbing this mountain, virtually going straight up, the mountain seemed to never end. We all got to the point where we were just tired and hiking was losing its fun. We seemed to go and go and go, but only look up and down to what looked like the same view as before. We all cried that this mountain was never going to end. I made a quick parallel about life at this moment. I realized that many people look at life as a mountain—something to be conquered. However, life is a mountain that can never be conquered. People are so focused at getting to the top that they don’t enjoy their hike. When they finally get to the top is when life finally leaves them and at this point, there is nothing more to enjoy—your lifeless body will rot in a grave. It reminds me of the famous quote, “Success is a journey, not a destination” only this applies to more than just success, it applies to life in general. Stop trying to reach certain destinations and accomplish certain goals—just live! While goals are good and ambitions are necessary, the importance of living surpasses them all. Enjoy your hike, don’t worry about the top. Enjoy the view from where you are, but never stop climbing. One day it will all make sense, but today is probably not that day. One of my many mottos is “less doing, more being.” Just be.
What a weekend! These past couple days were some of the best I’ve had in this country. Sabbath was amazing. I got to sleep in and then we had a little house church in Yelena’s apartment. We just sang praises, studied the Bible, conversed about God, and ate lunch as we fellowshipped together. It was refreshing. After church we got suited-up to go to a Russian theater. One of students arranged tickets for us all to go to see Shakespeare’s “King Lear.” It was a good play, the only thing was we couldn’t understand anything. My student translated and printed out a script so I was able to get familiar with the play before we saw it. Still, it was fun to make up the script in our heads as they dramatically acted it out on stage. It was quite an experience.
Sunday, I woke up at 7:30am. I think that is the earliest I have ever woken up in this country. We ventured on the bus, met the girls, and headed up to the mountains. We went a different mountain this time, a mountain that I hadn’t been to. It was so fun! We hiked up a road, and then found a mountain we wanted to climb, so we went off the trail and hiked straight up this mountain which was half covered with snow and half covered with winter-ridden, thorn-covered bushes. After about 4 hours of hiking we reached the top (well...near enough the top) and we had a picnic. After stuffing ourselves we walked along a ridge and found a snowy place to slide down. We slid on our butts, on our backpacks, on our coats, on our stomachs down steep slopes. Sliding on our stomachs was the best. We coined it “Penguin Sliding” and I am convinced they should turn it into an Olympic sport. We occasionally crashed into some bushes, collided with rocks, dodged trees, and fell off some large embankments. By the time we made it down from the mountain we were all soaking wet, sore and bruised, cut up, but smiling uncontrollably from the craziness and the great fun we all had. It is a day that I will never forget.
I was thinking about life, about all the fun and adventures we have. We often do dangerous, painful things in the name of fun, and would have it no other way. I think of skydiving, paintballing, butt-sledding, and everything else. We read about adventures where people live off the land—eating birds and wild berries. We never think about the process it takes to kill and skin an animal as well as prepare it and we never think about all the sicknesses they go through eating poisonous berries. Good stories and good memories are made by pain, by threatening situations. Even though this mountain adventure is now just a memory, it is a good memory, an exciting part of my story. I want my story to be full of excitement.
So as we were climbing this mountain, virtually going straight up, the mountain seemed to never end. We all got to the point where we were just tired and hiking was losing its fun. We seemed to go and go and go, but only look up and down to what looked like the same view as before. We all cried that this mountain was never going to end. I made a quick parallel about life at this moment. I realized that many people look at life as a mountain—something to be conquered. However, life is a mountain that can never be conquered. People are so focused at getting to the top that they don’t enjoy their hike. When they finally get to the top is when life finally leaves them and at this point, there is nothing more to enjoy—your lifeless body will rot in a grave. It reminds me of the famous quote, “Success is a journey, not a destination” only this applies to more than just success, it applies to life in general. Stop trying to reach certain destinations and accomplish certain goals—just live! While goals are good and ambitions are necessary, the importance of living surpasses them all. Enjoy your hike, don’t worry about the top. Enjoy the view from where you are, but never stop climbing. One day it will all make sense, but today is probably not that day. One of my many mottos is “less doing, more being.” Just be.
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