Desert Silence

Trudging into our campsite, nestled between the resplendent limestone formations of the White Desert of Egypt, we set up camp preparing for our first night under the stars. Having left Cairo and the signs of civilization far behind, we braced ourselves for three days of sand, desert foxes, and a breathtaking sunsets.

As we gathered around the evening campfire to drink tea, our Bedouin guide, Ashraf, shared with us, “Water cleanses the body, but the desert cleanses the soul.” The depth of his statement resonated, but only a few days removed from society could clarify its implications.

Trekking with an amazing 8th grade class from Cairo American College, my days were filled with wonderful memories of crazy desert games (International Chaos and Desert Ball), dune jumping, odd toilet experiences, and wild camping memories. One evening, after a dinner of grilled chicken and Bedouin bread (cooked over the open coals of our campfire), we decided to experiment with silence. Far from the bustle of Cairo, the honking of horns, the cloud of smog, the cries of children, and the chaos of life, we shut up.

And listened. And listened.

What I heard that night was not solely the light wind sweeping over the sand after a day of burning heat, nor the munching of hay coming from the camels.

In the silence...God.

I felt the presence of a Creator who is in control of a world that, at times, seems chaotic and spinning wildly out of control. A God who watches over the desert foxes, sand mice, and acacia trees. In the middle of an arid land, He provides for their sustenance. A God who paints majestic sunset backdrops and forms the rolling dune for the few visitors who dare venture into the desolation of the desert. And in that SILENCE...

I listened.

It's no wonder that God chooses to reveal himself in the "gentle whisper" as He shared with Elijah. (I Kings 19:12) With the Psalmist, it resonates, "Be still and know that I am God!" (Psalm 46:10) The term, "be still" comes from the Hebrew, RAPHAH. Literally, "to let drop." The verb "to know" (YADA) could be translated, "realize."

"Drop everything and realize that I am God."

He is God.

In our flurry of non-stop activity and noise, how often do we lose sight this truth? How often does our busyness blind us from the reality of His promises? Do we stop and remember He is in control? That "the Lord is on his heavenly throne." (Psalm 11:4)

The Tuareg's (a Berber Nomadic people of the Sahara) have a proverb, "You have the watch; we have the time." If our desire to hear God's voice, then we must take the time to be still. To drop everything. To listen. In that silence, you will hear.

He has not lost control of this world, the desert, or your life. If he provides moisture for desert plant life and food for the desert fox, how much more will He care for us? (Matthew 6) We have a God of love who wants to communicate with us...will we listen?

Remember, it's in the imperative. "Be still!"

Shhhhh!

Listen.

Into the Fog

As I trudged higher and higher through the snow of Mount Ngauruhoe (narrow-hoe-ee) the predicament I was in became apparent. Either continue on into the blinding fog with no sense of direction accompanied by impending dangers, or submit to the fact that I had scaled a great portion of this imposing mountain and the time had come to call it a day.

Ngauruhoe, an active stratovolcano on the North Island in New Zealand, is commonly known for being the model of Mount Doom in Peter Jackson's The Lord of the Rings movie trilogy.

Due to inclement weather, my expedition of climbing Ngauruhoe, highlighting the backdrop of Tongariro National Park, had experienced a near cancellation. Upon arriving at my hostel I discovered that the Tonguriro Crossing had been canceled due to the extreme weather this region had been experiencing. All climbs had been cancelled but my schedule allowed for no flexibility. Thus, after seeking the advice of a local climbing outfitting joint, I decided to proceed with the climb alone.

Heading out at seven, the North Island still covered in the throes of dawn, I picked up a latte along with a Sausage, Egg, and Cheese McMuffin from a nearby McDonalds and headed towards Tongariro National Park…a ninety-minute drive from my hostel. Prior to venturing out, I stopped at an outfitting outlet to pick up a few essential elements (climbing shoes, gloves, proper headgear, and some maps). After discussing the conditions with these blokes, we arranged if I wasn’t back by 1800h, they would come looking for me.

Arriving at the park, the landscape stole my breath. The expansive beauty captured my heart and passion, and there, rising up on the horizon, completely covered in clouds and fog was the target... Ngauruhoe. Despite not seeing the mountain due to the cover, I knew it was there and intended to conquer it.

The adventure was magnificent.

As I trekked through Tongariro, I saw not one soul. Not one. Completely alone in a vast expanse of mountains, prairies, and mountain streams. As far as the eye could see. there were no explorers, park rangers, or signs of human life. Only the sound of the birds, brooks, waterfalls, and the wind whipping across the open fields and the howling weather on the mountain. Tranquility and peace.

Just me and God.

So we walked and talked as closest of friends. There was absolute joy, laughing and tears. A precious time together.

Reaching the South Crater, I began the pursuit of Ngauruhoe's summit. The fog was blinding and intense. I relied on the post markers planted every ten to twenty meters to keep me on track. Knowing the danger of the mountain, its glaciers and sudden deathly drop-offs, I trudged cautiously, step by step. It wasn't too long, however, before the blinding snow and fog masked my eyes from identifying the next guidepost. I was stuck with a choice. Wait for the fog to clear, or call it a climb.

That day, God taught me a lesson.

How often in life is it hard to see where we are going (just as I couldn't see Ngauruhoe that day due to fog, but I knew it was there by faith). We want a blueprint for our lives. We wonder why bad things happen to good people, or why cancer, broken hearts, and hurt exist. Yet perhaps God has a plan far bigger than our earthly eyes can see. Rather than "why," perhaps our question should be, "what" (would you have me learn)?

We are called to go from one guidepost to the next. By faith. Faith not in ourselves, but in the God who can see through the fog of life and knows exactly what He is doing, even when we can't see the mountain. Faith is that "substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1)

We don't have to understand everything. It's ok. As long as we know the One leading. In the words of Oswald Chambers, "Faith never knows where it is being led, but it loves and knows the One who is leading."

God's Word clearly tells us in Hebrews 11:6, "Without faith it is impossible to please God, because anyone who comes to Him must believe that He exists and that He rewards those who earnestly seek Him." If we all saw God for who He fully is, we would believe, but that belief would be based on sight, not faith. God desires a relationship with us based on love. A love which believes Him for who He says He is and lives on that premise.

And as we journey, let us not forget that His Word (the Holy Bible) is "a lamp to our feet and a light to our path." (Psalm 110:105) Simply a lamp. A small lantern providing enough light to show us the next divot in the road. Not a floodlight for strategic planning. Light enough to keep us walking, yet not an abundance to keep us trusting.

One guidepost at a time.

Simple obedience.

And when the fog gets too thick to even see the next step, just wait. Soon in the fog, you'll hear those comforting words of Jesus, "Follow Me!"

Spaghetti, Meat Sauce, and a little Garlic Bread

Spaghetti with meat sauce and some garlic bread.

Just another dinner...so I thought. That is, until the garlic bread.

Being Senegalese/American, I am used to living in a land of malfunctioning appliances, loss of power and water, and the general lack of modern conveniences...thus, I figured that included gas stoves. Perhaps, a lack of judgment.

The spaghetti dinner was turning out great...or so our guests declared. Apparently the welcoming scent of the meat sauce had wafted down into the general foyer as our dinner invitees arrived...

But, the garlic bread still needed to be toasted.

Having had previous experience lighting our oven, (thanks to blueberry muffins) I attempted to start the ancient piece of debris...no success. After a couple attempts, my housemate, having never used this particular appliance before, suggested giving it a try...gladly, I handed the matches to him.

What happened next is still a blur...As Jeremy reached in to ignite the burner, (and I stood closely over his shoulder) it happened.

Ka-BOOM!!

An EXPLOSION similar to a small bomb...the force of the explosion sent Jeremy (my housemate) and I flying backward, shattered windows across our house, blew the entire oven/stove onto its front and the next thing I remember was being on the kitchen counter and my friend crying out from the kitchen floor which was now covered in boiling water...

But this story is not about an oven, garlic bread, or drama...rather, about the grace of God.

Though the trauma of the explosion, the burns inflicted, along with the pizza boxes and computer paper covering our pane-less windows remind us of this night, the divine protection of God stands above all else. From our gas tank (directly next to the stove) not igniting, to the matches laying ON the oven door not bursting into flames, to our clothes not even getting singed, we experienced a miracle. A blast of God's mercy!

As I stirred the sauce and my friend prepared the garlic bread, did we consider the proximity of death? The face of eternity? We feel invincible...as if God owes us a certain number of years. The Word of God, however, clearly points out, "It is appointed to man once to die and then the judgment." (Hebrews 9:27)

Regardless of our faith, (or lack thereof) we acknowledge death...but are we living for something which lasts beyond the grave or is our hope in this life alone? Paul shared, "If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are to be pitied more than all men." (I Corinthians 15:19)

I'm thankful God spared my life (and that of Jeremy), but I'm even more thankful to know that on the day my short life ends, I have a living hope beyond the grave!

Still, another thought lies on my mind...do I LIVE daily in light of eternity? We are clearly told in II Corinthians 4:18, "...we fix our eyes not on what is seen, but on what is unseen. For what is seen is temporary, but what is unseen is eternal."

May our love transcend preferences, differences, frustrations, divisions, cultures, nationalities, ignorance, impatience, and the like so that we may focus on living for something far greater than what we see. That our love would display a far greater hope!

Thus, as my alarm clock begins it's cheery BEEP-BEEP BEEP-BEEP at 0415h, I smile...another day! To live, to laugh, to love! Another day to invest into the invisible.

Who knows, I may have to make garlic bread!

The Answer to Your Prayers

I'll never forget those two faces.

If the attribute of joy was personified, then Merna and Jacqueline embodied it. Their beautiful faces radiated with a supernatural joy. As identical twins, telling them apart was nearly impossible, but their precious smile undeniably further entwined their likeness.

Nestled in the back alley of Manshayet Nasr (known to foreigners as "Garbage City") at a home run by nuns [started by Mother Teresa], I found myself "mother" to six newborns (2-6 months old)...five girls, one boy. These were my children. Bottles, feeding, burping, pacifiers, changing diapers, playing, and putting babies to sleep became regular elements of life...these kids had my heart.

One day in early April, upon entering the children's home, my heart was ripped apart to find two of my kids gone...Jacqueline and Merna. (On a positive note, I was told they were returned to their biological parents) I distinctly remember going to their blatantly empty cribs, kneeling down beside them on the cold tiles, and with tears in my eyes, I prayed.

My prayer was simple...that God would take care of them, and that He would bring someone into their life who would love them and share the love of Jesus with them.

Little did I know the impact of such a prayer...

Shortly after returning to the US of A in May of '04, my university studies resumed...so with 9992 km separating me from my adopted-family, my dorm room wall became a panorama of memories. And my prayers continued...as before.

Two years later, degree in hand, I boarded Lufthansa Airlines bound for a new life in Beirut...except God had other plans. War, logistical issues, and divine guidance landed me in Cairo...again. With David, I came to the realization, "I trust in You, O Lord. I say, 'You are my God!' My times are in Your hand." (Psalm 31:13-14)

As time went by, I returned to the streets of Manshayet Nasr...passing by a group of children, a ten year old [Lobna], called out, "Parlez vous francais?" Being a Senegalese and a native-French speaker, I turned...instantly, a friendship was born. After getting to know the family and discovering the kids study in French, I became the tutor for their kids, their cousins, and their cousin's cousins.

Months later, as we sat around the family's rickety broken plastic table conjugating verbs in the past tense [surrounded by rubbish along with chickens randomly flying over our head---yes, chickens CAN fly], two little girls stepped into my world...again. Barefoot, covered in dirt from head to toe, clothes slightly tattered, their hair crusty and mangled from playing in the street and their faces bore no sign of joy, but something in their eyes looked ever so familiar. Looking up, I asked Lobna who these two adorable twins were...she replied, "My sisters, Jacqueline and Merna." Though their names are commonplace, other identifying features were given and I quickly realized that in a city of over 20 million residents, God had reunited me with two of my girls!

And then it hit me...my prayer. Today, I see these girls frequently, pour love into them, and share the stories of my friend, Jesus. As kindergartners, they love school [especially gymnastics] and life...their laughter is back and my life is enriched because of them.

But take a step back in history, when Jesus and His disciples were swamped with thousands of people and no food...the disciples quickly managed a solution and suggested Jesus send the multitudes away. Christ's answer baffled their logic. "They do not need to go away. You give them something to eat." (Matthew 14:16) We know the rest of the story...one boy, five loaves, two "small" [John 6:9] fish...and Jesus. When we pray, are we willing to be the answer to our prayer? For those suffering around the world...are we willing to give up our abundance so others may have the bare minimum? For the lonely...are we willing to sacrifice our time to comfort? We pray like Asaph, "Defend the poor and fatherless; do justice to the afflicted and needy, deliver the poor and needy; Free them from the hand of the wicked." (Psalm 82:3-4) But are we willing to be the vessel God uses?

SO, just a little warning...be careful what you pray.

You may be the answer to your own prayer!

No RESERVES, No RETREATS...No REGRETS

Buried in the heart of Cairo in a forgotten cemetery lies the grave of a man many have forgotten. The high walls of this ancient cemetery, the barred gate, and the overgrown brush bring back memories of The Secret Garden.

The significance, however, is not found in what lies within these stone walls. Rather, the power of this story lies in what these walls (and grave) could not hold.

To access the grave, we had to climb over tombs, rubble, shrubbery, and trash. After clearing the grave from its assorted debris and branches, along with scrubbing off the years of dust and bird poop accumulation, the words were revealed.

William Whiting Borden.

Born in 1887 to one of the richest families in the United States and heir to millions, Borden was given the high school graduation gift of traveling the globe. As William traveled, he saw the immense hurt around the world and recognized the need to invest his life into that which would last for eternity. In a letter home to mom and dad, Borden wrote, "I'm going to give my life to prepare for the mission field." And that he did.

Friends tried to discourage him claiming that by making this decision, he was "throwing himself away." In response, he journaled in the front of his Bible, "No reserves."

After earning degrees from Yale and Princeton while actively engaging in campus and community life, (started the Yale Hope Mission, ministered to drunks downtown, and engaged over 70% of Yale's student body in small group Bible studies) Borden realized the time had come to follow Christ to the "ends of the earth." Turning down high-paying job offers and a life of relative ease, Borden added two more words under the previous entry. His words, "No retreats."

Refusing to be side-tracked by the things of time, Borden set sail for China in December of 1912 stopping in Egypt to study Arabic. Upon arriving in Cairo, Borden hit the books, but shortly thereafter, William contracted spinal meningitis. Within a month, on April 9, 1913 at the age of 25, Borden was face to face with the Jesus he loved and served.

Borden's passing was carried in nearly every major US newspaper. One woman wrote, "Borden not only gave (away) his wealth, but himself, in a way so joyous and natural that it (seemed) a privilege rather than a sacrifice."

Was his life a waste? Was this an untimely death? Not in God's economy. Rather, "unless a grain of wheat falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it produces much grain." (John 12:24) Is a long life the rubric of success, or faithfulness? Wealth, or love? Self-pursuits, or sacrifice?

Prior to closing his eyes in death, Borden etched two final words in the front of his Bible. Beneath "No reserves" and "No retreats" were written, "No regrets." For Borden, "To live [was] Christ, and to die [was] gain." (Philippians 1:21)

His tombstone is epic, but this portion encapsulates his life and passion. "A Man in Christ, he arose and forsook all and followed Him, kindly affectioned with brotherly love, fervent in spirit serving the Lord, rejoicing in hope patient in tribulation, instant in prayer, communicating to the necessity of saints, In honour preferring others. Apart from faith in Christ there is no explanation for such a life."

Oswald Chambers, buried a mere 100 meters from Borden, declared, “Faith is deliberate confidence in the character of God whose ways you may not understand at the time.” There are many things I don't understand about Borden's life and death, but what I do know is this...he lived a life which counted for eternity. He lived, not for this world nor for himself, but for eternity and the God he loved.

Will I write, "No regrets?"

A Tale of Two Lives

As I tuned into the radio while driving my Hyundai on Friday morning, I received word of Michael Jackson's death. A few hours later, upon checking my e-mail, I received word that my friend, Chris Leggett, had been targeted and killed by two Al-Quaida gunmen. (his crime: loving people with the love of Jesus and investing his life into the people of Mauritania)

Two lives. Two legacies. Two eternities. Both lived. Both died.

The Bible reads, "It is appointed to man once to die, and then the judgment." (Hebrews 9:27)

Since hearing of their deaths, my facebook is flooded with notifications concerning Michael Jackson quizzes, applications, and memoirs, yet eeringly silent on my buddy, Chris. But my spirit begs to ask the question, who REALLY lived? What does it mean to live? Is life REALLY only to live and then to die? Or is there more?

Does the fame, the crowds, the girls, the money really add up to much in the end? Did Michael Jackson really find the joy and peace he was looking for, or did he come up empty? I find it sad, yet interesting, to have heard today that Jackson died with nearly a half BILLION dollars of debt. A man who couldn't decide if he wanted to be a man. A man who had "everything" BUT didn't have enough.

Meanwhile, my friend Chris, his wife, and four kids gave up their comfortable home in Tennessee to pursue a calling God had given them---not forced upon them...to go to the proverbial ends of the earth to love a people they didn't know. To pour their lives out. They went, not to earn favor in God's eyes, but because of love for their King. There wasn't any glamour or money involved. But they had MORE than enough...it was time to give away.

The Leggetts recognized, "There’s far more here than meets the eye. The things we see now are here today, gone tomorrow. But the things we can’t see now will last forever." (2 Corinthians 4:18 The Message)

The more I live, the more I realize life isn't about following a certain religion or about self-pursuits. Rather, it's about finding the purpose for which we were created.

And I truly believe that purpose is found in a relationship with God our creator...a relationship that says, I want to "know you" and experience you by the "power of your resurrection and the fellowship of your sufferings" because I've tasted your eternal love and it satisfies all my longing. (Philippians 3:10)

How better to taste HIS love than to love...love extravagantly every person you meet. Share compassion with the hurting, minister kindness to the afflicted, give of yourself to those who have nothing. SHOW the world Jesus...let your life tell! As Will Rogers wisely said, "People's minds are changed through observation, not argument."

I've been to over fifty nations, met thousands upon thousands of people, and had my heart broken over the wickedness of this world, but please listen to this...I've found more hope in the hell-holes of Calcutta, the trash-heaps of Muquattam, and the shanty-towns of Phnom Penh than in the palaces and mansions of the wealthy from Dubai to LA. Why?

Perhaps it's because the things of the world blind us to the truest reality of life...and that being, God's love for the people He created. Sometimes, He has to take things away for us to pay attention to that which is valuable.

If this is the case, I want nothing more than to "know HIM." For in that desire, I have everything.

I'm not sure where Jackson stood in his relationship with God. That's between him and God.

But when Chris Leggett's spirit left his bloodied bullet-ridden body which lay on that dusty Mauritanian soil on Tuesday morning, Jesus rose from His throne and announced, "My precious son is coming home!"

Well done Chris...you ran well...you won the race!

(I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Finally, there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will give to me on that Day, and not to me only but also to all who have loved His appearing. II Timothy 4:7-8)

The "Blessed" Life

Recently, I was enjoying a vanilla latte in a Cairo coffee shop with a couple dear friends while perusing photographs from the past few years. With it came old memories, laughter, and contemplation of the lessons learned along the way.

As I turn a quarter of century, (that's 25 my friends!) I realize the brevity of this life, yet how full and wonderful it is and has been. If “blessed” is defined by earthly terms, I am “blessed.” But I question that definition.

I am surrounded by the greatest friends and family any guy could ask for, spread out in nations around the globe. I'm fulfilling my dream of serving/loving children globally and investing into their futures. To me, it's not work; its my calling and a pure joy. I get to coach a sport I love to youth I love far more than the sport. Along the way, God has provided many snapshots of beauty/excitement...

From watching the sun rise over the majestic temples at Ankor Wat, diving face to face with the Great White Sharks in the cold waters of Gansbaii, skydiving over the metropolis of Atlanta, attending “Beauty and the Beast” on Broadway in Manhattan, trekking through the Sahara, exploring the rain forests of Southeast Asia, kayaking midst the jagged rock faces of the Li Jin River in China, swimming the open water from Dakar to Goree Island, free diving wrecks off Bahamas’ coast, skiing the mountains of Northern Lebanon, visiting the seven churches of Asia in Turkey, viewing the Pyramids of Giza, bathing in the Dead Sea, gazing at the starry sky through a hole in an underwater cave at 30m depth at the bottom of the crystal clear waters of the Red Sea, climbing Sinai’s peak, scaling Half Dome in God’s backyard of Yosemite, admiring Da Vinci’s work in Milan at the Last Supper painting, jumping the world highest bridge bungee jump in the Bloukrans, looking out over Paris from the Eiffel Tower, mounting the step of Buckingham Palace, strolling the vineyards of South Africa, eating tarantulas in Cambodia's roadside markets, standing in awe before the 275 waterfalls merging into one at Foz D’Iguazu in Brazil, to the awesome waves crashing on the rock of Valetta’s coast during storms on Malta, cruising the Nile, witnessing Syria’s fortress at Crac de Chevalier, exploring Jordan’s rock masterpiece city of Petra, to gazing in wonder at the empty tomb in Jerusalem. Truly, I’ve seen and experienced much in my first 9131 days of life outside the womb. (yes, I counted leap years)

And yet…am I blessed in this? I would suggest this weighs little to none on the “blessed” life. In the Word of God, I find the “blessed” man described as one who "KNOWS His God!" “Blessed are you Simon bar-Jonah, for flesh and blood has not revealed this to you!” (Matthew 16:17) One who is poor in Spirit, who has the Lord for their Shepherd, who is a doer of the Word, who is pure in heart, who is a peacemaker, who hungers and thirsts for righteousness, who is meek, who is persecuted for righteousness’ sake, who believes in the One he has never seen. Blessed is the one whose hope goes beyond the grave. Thus, true "blessedness" depends not on economic status, culture, ethnicity,age, experience or caste.

Indeed, the blessedness from God’s perspective can be found in the trash dumps of Ezbit il Nakhl, in the communist nation of Burma, or the dusty villages of Pakistan. How much more "blessed" am I when holding a dying baby in my arms, born in the brothels and stricken with AIDS she didn’t induce. When treating the open wounds of a street child, ministering love to intensely impoverished kids trapped in the slums and sewers of Calcutta, recognizing a life well-lived as I stood over the coffin of my brother René who died saving fifty lives during the genocide of Rwanda, the privilege of baptizing a couple Pakistanis in their irrigation canal, playing with Burma’s children in remote mountain villages, pulling the worms out of the scalp of a young girl in Northern Syria, changing diapers in an orphanage in Garbage City, to simply loving a child trapped in the midst of violence, danger, abuse, and fear.

These are the highlights of life. This is where the rubber meets the road…where faith takes action. If pain is God’s megaphone to a world that desperately needs HIS message of love and forgiveness through Jesus, that is where I want to be...with them in it. To feel THEIR pain in order to share the hope within the crisis.

Indeed, the truly blessed life would be one where this world sees no longer see Nate. Rather, my hands would serve as Jesus. My mouth would speak His words of love and forgiveness. My thoughts, His. My eyes would see opportunity and potential and not simply reality. My lap would be a safe haven for those who need care and compassion. My feet would be a messenger for His love.

Whether I have only today or 25 more years, may this be my definition of "blessed."

Thanks for sharing life with me and KNOW I am honored to call you, "friend!"