To friends far off:
My friends, how I long for you. How I am for you and wish to be with you. I think of you and hope for you in earnest. From afar I see little pieces, bits of light in the expanse of your life, and I am joyful. If I'm honest, being so far from you sucks. The distance is right and good and for a purpose, but it still sucks.
I ache for days shared, for loud nights and quiet mornings, for the sun shining in your eyes, making the moments light as the breaking dawn. I miss our feet tramping through snow and ice and grass and sand, those 'ventures with no goal in sight save the next bend, the next dune, the next crag in the icy wasteland. I miss your hands, stained with paint and ink and care, calloused with much making, eager to grab hold of whatever joy awaits on the horizon.
And I miss your voices. I miss the shouts over a winning match at the gaming table or an insane disc toss. I miss having my ears ring with your laughter, with the songs we would sing together. I miss those conversations over coffee or craft brews when we'd wrestle truth into each other's souls with the best words we could muster.
Mostly, I just miss you, you in all your vibrance. I long for the day when we can simply take in the morning light together. May it come soon.
-Zach
Monday, April 14, 2014
Thursday, January 17, 2013
A Word to a Friend
Hey folks. Sorry it's been ages since my last post. Suffice it to say that life in sunny Florida isn't half bad. I might get to a proper post later, but for now I want to give you something else. This is an email between a friend and I. A couple months ago I lent her the book Lost in Transition, a stark depiction of life for teens and tweens of 18 to 24 years. I decided to post this because, well, I say things in it that I don't often enough say to myself, let alone to others. They are the words of our hope.
"I read this today:
"They had difficulty seeing the possible distinction between objective moral truth and relative human invention. That is not because they are dumb. It seems rather that they simply cannot, for whatever reason, believe in - or sometimes even conceive of - a given, objective truth, fact, reality, or nature of the world that is independent of their subjective experience and in relation to which they or others might learn or be persuaded to change." - page 222
And this as well:
"The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace; the sinful mind is hostile to God. It does not submit to God's law, nor can it do so." -Romans 8:6-7
They seem eerily similar, don't they? Is it possible that words like "citizenship", "moral responsibility", or "helping others" don't show up in their vocabulary because they aren't able to truly understand it based on the "laws" (or lack of) they have chosen to submit to? You don't see them as hopeless, do you - Zach? Have you thrown your hands up in the air toward them?"
My response
They seem eerily similar because, in fact, they are the same.
1 Corinthians 1:
"I read this today:
"They had difficulty seeing the possible distinction between objective moral truth and relative human invention. That is not because they are dumb. It seems rather that they simply cannot, for whatever reason, believe in - or sometimes even conceive of - a given, objective truth, fact, reality, or nature of the world that is independent of their subjective experience and in relation to which they or others might learn or be persuaded to change." - page 222
And this as well:
"The mind of sinful man is death, but the mind controlled by the Spirit is life and peace; the sinful mind is hostile to God. It does not submit to God's law, nor can it do so." -Romans 8:6-7
They seem eerily similar, don't they? Is it possible that words like "citizenship", "moral responsibility", or "helping others" don't show up in their vocabulary because they aren't able to truly understand it based on the "laws" (or lack of) they have chosen to submit to? You don't see them as hopeless, do you - Zach? Have you thrown your hands up in the air toward them?"
My response
They seem eerily similar because, in fact, they are the same.
1 Corinthians 1:
18 For the message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God. 19 For it is written,
“I will destroy the wisdom of the wise,
and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”
and the discernment of the discerning I will thwart.”
1 Corinthians 2:
14 Those who are unspiritual[e] do not receive the gifts of God’s Spirit, for they are foolishness to them, and they are unable to understand them because they are spiritually discerned.
1 Corinthians 3:
18 Do not deceive yourselves. If you think that you are wise in this age, you should become fools so that you may become wise. 19 For the wisdom of this world is foolishness with God. For it is written,
“He catches the wise in their craftiness,”
20 and again,
“The Lord knows the thoughts of the wise,
that they are futile.”
that they are futile.”
Perhaps a darker image from Ecclesiastes 10:
"5 There is an evil that I have seen under the sun, as great an error as if it proceeded from the ruler: 6 folly is set in many high places, and the rich sit in a low place. 7 I have seen slaves on horseback, and princes walking on foot like slaves."
My using the last bit from Ecclesiastes is more for imagery than anything, yet, doesn't it bear a striking resemblance to our culture today? We worship foolishness, the idea of a carefree society where we can and should do anything we please just for the hell of it. YOLO! (I cringe every time I hear that). We treat the slightest notion of authority as despotism, and liming oneself as weakness. Privilege has been warped to inalienable right, unless it is extreme (in the cases of the rich), where it is a result of some societal disparity, rather than hard work, discipline, and ingenuity. A friend of mine put up a post recently on facebook that sums things up pretty well, I think. (I linked it to your wall.)
Do I see these people has hopeless? Have I thrown up my hands at them? At times, yes. I am frustrated and angry at the depravity of what I read in Lost in Transition. It is why I despair when I stumble, or when I see my friends, true Christians to the core, buy into the empty pleasures this world has to offer. It makes me ache, because the kind of selfishness that worldly logic, which can seem so innocent and inconsequential in some situations, is the same logic that leads to all the travesties we see in the world: slavery, prostitution, rape, murder, etc etc etc etc etc. Perhaps my reactions are extreme; I'm sure one can find it easy to point me out as a judgmental person. I very well could be! I catch myself leaning away from grace once in a while.
Perhaps it's because I don't like the image of cheap grace. This grace that is extended to humanity came at a cost, after all. It cost Jesus, the very son of God, his life. Even more, his life was taken in one of the most disgraceful of ways. He bore the cross of shame, whipped beyond human recognition, and died as the lowliest of criminals. When I sin, I stand with the crowd that watched him die, that mocked him, that spat at his agony. I am equal with those quoted in Lost in Transition. In this event humanity is unified; we all stand under that tree, watching the son of God bleed.
Yet, there on that hill rests our hope. Out of an unmarked hole in the rock walked our strength. Do I see those in Lost in Transition as hopeless? No, because the hope they might have is the same hope that we have. The grace extended to us is one in the same with the grace extended to them. To say that they have no hope is to mark myself as hopeless. It is in this that we find the beauty of the Gospel:
Perhaps it's because I don't like the image of cheap grace. This grace that is extended to humanity came at a cost, after all. It cost Jesus, the very son of God, his life. Even more, his life was taken in one of the most disgraceful of ways. He bore the cross of shame, whipped beyond human recognition, and died as the lowliest of criminals. When I sin, I stand with the crowd that watched him die, that mocked him, that spat at his agony. I am equal with those quoted in Lost in Transition. In this event humanity is unified; we all stand under that tree, watching the son of God bleed.
Yet, there on that hill rests our hope. Out of an unmarked hole in the rock walked our strength. Do I see those in Lost in Transition as hopeless? No, because the hope they might have is the same hope that we have. The grace extended to us is one in the same with the grace extended to them. To say that they have no hope is to mark myself as hopeless. It is in this that we find the beauty of the Gospel:
"10 And as he sat at dinner[a] in the house, many tax collectors and sinners came and were sitting[b] with him and his disciples. 11 When the Pharisees saw this, they said to his disciples, “Why does your teacher eat with tax collectors and sinners?” 12 But when he heard this, he said, “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. 13 Go and learn what this means, ‘I desire mercy, not sacrifice.’ For I have come to call not the righteous but sinners.” -Matthew 9
It is for these people, the Lost in Transition, that Jesus came! It is why He is here! It is why He died! How glorious will it be when people such as these come to faith?! How gut-wrenchingly beautiful will it be when they might know the truth of these words?
"3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, 4 just as he chose us in Christ[b] before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. 5 He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, 6 to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. 7 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace 8 that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight 9 he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. 11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance,[c] having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. 13 In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; 14 this[d] is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory.
"3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places, 4 just as he chose us in Christ[b] before the foundation of the world to be holy and blameless before him in love. 5 He destined us for adoption as his children through Jesus Christ, according to the good pleasure of his will, 6 to the praise of his glorious grace that he freely bestowed on us in the Beloved. 7 In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace 8 that he lavished on us. With all wisdom and insight 9 he has made known to us the mystery of his will, according to his good pleasure that he set forth in Christ, 10 as a plan for the fullness of time, to gather up all things in him, things in heaven and things on earth. 11 In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance,[c] having been destined according to the purpose of him who accomplishes all things according to his counsel and will, 12 so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ, might live for the praise of his glory. 13 In him you also, when you had heard the word of truth, the gospel of your salvation, and had believed in him, were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit; 14 this[d] is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people, to the praise of his glory.
-Ephesians 1
This truth, this promise (which is making me want to weep in Starbucks as I read it) is why we proclaim the Truth. Because for some who are lost, the word of Truth will be to them like the breaking of the dawn in their hearts, and the Spirit of God will stir in their guts and rattle their bones and free them, at last, from their chains of slavery to sin and self.
There is hope. Even for me. Even for you. Even for them. To God be the glory. Amen.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
From Storms and Palms
Leaving is a funny thing. June saw me acting like a fidgety six-year-old at a doctor's office, stuffing as many animal crackers into his pockets before having to go. I was safeguarding those last moments, as if I was planting a flag so that no other place or circumstance might claim them. I treated every farewell as my last, should circumstances not allow another meeting. The truly final farewell was the best. A bunch of our crew (some I had thought I wouldn't see again) were sprawled across a living room on a friday night like so many times before, talking, snacking, and watching the opening ceremonies of the Olympics. With that image in my mind my parents and I packed up books, clothes, and a beastly dresser into a U-haul, stopped by LJ's for a farewell coffee from my sister, and began the long, long drive to Tampa, Florida. I became one of the Hope grads, scattered or soon-to-be. The gravity of the thing came as slowly as the passing of the miles. I was leaving my home, a place of such grace and goodness, for a place of utter mystery.
Yet God has proven his faithfulness. There are heaps and heaps of goodness waiting to be found here. When my housing plans fell through and I had no other options, He provided not only a better place to live, but lovely hosts who opened there home to me until I can move in. I have found a church, and (thank heaven!) they have offered me the chance to play in their worship. More and more every day I am seeing that it is good for me to be here. All this and the adventure has only just begun.
Even so, I miss Holland, and I miss Hope. I miss LJ's and 8th street and the smell of Dimnent in September. I miss the parades of students in the pine grove those first weeks of school and the thousand-strong voices singing to God. I miss you, my friends, my family, my people of Hope. I do not doubt that I have met and will continue to meet new people to call my people here in Tampa, but it is because of you, your leadership, your friendship, and your faithfulness to God that I have become who I am today. I eagerly look forward to the day when we can meet again as student and pastor, mentee and mentor, brother and sister, geeks and goons, singers of songs, people of Hope. Until then, know that I love you and miss you so, so dearly.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Letters from Africa - Day 12: Epilogue
Thursday, June 28th, 2012
To me, today is the beginning of an epilogue, the last moments of a story before the book finally runs out of pages. We didn't do anything groundbreaking or exciting; today was simply an ending of things. After packing all of our gera, clothes, and newly-acquired swag, we made our way to the Academy for one last visit. There was no music or teaching today. We simply sat with the students, Maxwell, and Richmond, saying our thank-yous, telling stories, and praying blessings over the team, the students, and the academy. It was the epitome of the long goodbye, with hundreds of pictures being taken and hugs given.
Needless to say it was a long time before we loaded into the min van-bus to begin the four hour drive to Lusaka, our last adventure in Zambia. We made a few stops along the way. Once we stopped at a roadside produce market. We had hardly stopped moving when the bus was bombarded by banana venders whose marketing strategy is to shove fruit in each and every open window of the vehicle. Another time we hit an especially large bump and had to rescue a suitcase that had flown off the trailer. Our final stop was in Lusaka, arguably the most urban place we've visited in Zambia. We stopped at a grocery store to grab some Zambian foodstuffs before dinner at Food Fayre, our last meal in the country. It seemed like we had just loaded the van-bus for the last time when we got out in front of the airport, grabbed our stuff, and said our final farewells to our drivers, Moses and Rogers, and Petronellah, probably the best hostess one could ask for. The next hour or so was a blur. Check-in. Security. Gate. Tarmac. Safety procedures. Full thrust. Pull on the yoke. Farewell, Zambia.
It's a little strange, heading back to the States. I think Michael Flanagin said it best: "We're happy to go home, but sad that we have to leave." No more Zambian time. No more rides in the jank van-bus-whatever. No more "Ga Mwamba"s for introductions. No more morning greetings from Petronellah. No more bream carcasses or nshima-hands. No more lessons at the academy. We're leaving a lot behind.
Even so, we're bringing a lot home with us as well. We came to Choma to teach, but we were students just as much as everyone else who came to the academy. We taught music, but these Zambians taught us the power of determination and the ability to accomplish great things even with so little. They taught us that a broken spirit is not a dead one, that joy is not dependent on wealth or status, and that good hospitality can be practiced no matter what you have to offer a guest. They taught us what it means to be wholly dependent on God.
It is for this reason that I think everyone needs to experience this kind of trip. There is so much to learn beyond the familiar, beyond our own understanding of how life works and how it ought to be. If we as people are willing to go, to reach out beyond the familiar with open hearts and minds, to fill needs on the terms of the needy, then we will be far better people for it. This I think is the hidden second half of Poetice's mission: that we might learn through these short-term missions how to be better servants for the long-term.
For more information about Poetice International and its ministry in Zambia be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.
To me, today is the beginning of an epilogue, the last moments of a story before the book finally runs out of pages. We didn't do anything groundbreaking or exciting; today was simply an ending of things. After packing all of our gera, clothes, and newly-acquired swag, we made our way to the Academy for one last visit. There was no music or teaching today. We simply sat with the students, Maxwell, and Richmond, saying our thank-yous, telling stories, and praying blessings over the team, the students, and the academy. It was the epitome of the long goodbye, with hundreds of pictures being taken and hugs given.
Needless to say it was a long time before we loaded into the min van-bus to begin the four hour drive to Lusaka, our last adventure in Zambia. We made a few stops along the way. Once we stopped at a roadside produce market. We had hardly stopped moving when the bus was bombarded by banana venders whose marketing strategy is to shove fruit in each and every open window of the vehicle. Another time we hit an especially large bump and had to rescue a suitcase that had flown off the trailer. Our final stop was in Lusaka, arguably the most urban place we've visited in Zambia. We stopped at a grocery store to grab some Zambian foodstuffs before dinner at Food Fayre, our last meal in the country. It seemed like we had just loaded the van-bus for the last time when we got out in front of the airport, grabbed our stuff, and said our final farewells to our drivers, Moses and Rogers, and Petronellah, probably the best hostess one could ask for. The next hour or so was a blur. Check-in. Security. Gate. Tarmac. Safety procedures. Full thrust. Pull on the yoke. Farewell, Zambia.
It's a little strange, heading back to the States. I think Michael Flanagin said it best: "We're happy to go home, but sad that we have to leave." No more Zambian time. No more rides in the jank van-bus-whatever. No more "Ga Mwamba"s for introductions. No more morning greetings from Petronellah. No more bream carcasses or nshima-hands. No more lessons at the academy. We're leaving a lot behind.
Even so, we're bringing a lot home with us as well. We came to Choma to teach, but we were students just as much as everyone else who came to the academy. We taught music, but these Zambians taught us the power of determination and the ability to accomplish great things even with so little. They taught us that a broken spirit is not a dead one, that joy is not dependent on wealth or status, and that good hospitality can be practiced no matter what you have to offer a guest. They taught us what it means to be wholly dependent on God.
It is for this reason that I think everyone needs to experience this kind of trip. There is so much to learn beyond the familiar, beyond our own understanding of how life works and how it ought to be. If we as people are willing to go, to reach out beyond the familiar with open hearts and minds, to fill needs on the terms of the needy, then we will be far better people for it. This I think is the hidden second half of Poetice's mission: that we might learn through these short-term missions how to be better servants for the long-term.
For more information about Poetice International and its ministry in Zambia be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.
Monday, July 2, 2012
Letters from Africa - Day 11.5
Wednesday, June 27th, 2012
16:00-23:00
We left Livingstone in a hurry, doing some last-minute haggling and scarfing fast-food chicken and fries in the bus-van. Since our concert at the Sun Hotel was cancelled the night before, Richmond scheduled another concert for 18:00 today in Choma. None of us were really looking forward to it. We were all tired from the game drive, the falls, and the market, having gone non-stop since 7 in the morning. The fact that we were late didn't help our nerves either. By the time we made it to Choma Secondary School, we were behind schedule by over half an hour. Even in Zambian time, our tardiness made us feel rushed and agitated. To add to the tension, the power had gone out at the school; our only light came from a bunch of LED lanters that Richmond had strung up, barely enough for the musicians to read their music. After quickly cobbling together a concert order, we began our concert.
This could have been the beginning of a bad night, but things have a wonderful way of simply working out on this trip. By the end of the frist song all of the tension and anxiety had melted away. The time didn't matter anymore; the music had taken over. Even the lighting situation, which was a hassle at first, lent a feeling of beauty and intimacy, as if this were a concert by candlelight. Everyone from both the team and the academy performed well, I for one playing one of the best sax solos of my life. By the end, the audience was eager to give a standing ovation, and many thanked us personally once it had all concluded. What we had begun as a stressful evening became the most joyous of our stay in Zambia, and there could have been no better way to spend our last one here. We spent the last hours of the night debriefing as a team, reflecting on what we had seen, done, and what we are to do once we arrive home.
For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.
16:00-23:00
We left Livingstone in a hurry, doing some last-minute haggling and scarfing fast-food chicken and fries in the bus-van. Since our concert at the Sun Hotel was cancelled the night before, Richmond scheduled another concert for 18:00 today in Choma. None of us were really looking forward to it. We were all tired from the game drive, the falls, and the market, having gone non-stop since 7 in the morning. The fact that we were late didn't help our nerves either. By the time we made it to Choma Secondary School, we were behind schedule by over half an hour. Even in Zambian time, our tardiness made us feel rushed and agitated. To add to the tension, the power had gone out at the school; our only light came from a bunch of LED lanters that Richmond had strung up, barely enough for the musicians to read their music. After quickly cobbling together a concert order, we began our concert.
This could have been the beginning of a bad night, but things have a wonderful way of simply working out on this trip. By the end of the frist song all of the tension and anxiety had melted away. The time didn't matter anymore; the music had taken over. Even the lighting situation, which was a hassle at first, lent a feeling of beauty and intimacy, as if this were a concert by candlelight. Everyone from both the team and the academy performed well, I for one playing one of the best sax solos of my life. By the end, the audience was eager to give a standing ovation, and many thanked us personally once it had all concluded. What we had begun as a stressful evening became the most joyous of our stay in Zambia, and there could have been no better way to spend our last one here. We spent the last hours of the night debriefing as a team, reflecting on what we had seen, done, and what we are to do once we arrive home.
For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.
Letters from Africa - Day 11.0
Wednesday, June 27th, 2012
07:00-16:00
"Ascribe to the Lord, O heavenly beings, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength. Ascribe to the Lord the glory of his name; worship the Lord in holy spendor. The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over mighty waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful; the vocie of the Lord is full of majesty" -Psalm 29:1-4
There are many things to do in Livingstone, Zambia, and we did many. We took our van/bus hybrid through the game park, checked out some crocs and deadly snakes at the crocodile farm, and haggled our way into some Zambian swag at the open market. We all had a good time at each, but none of these compared to Victoria Falls
Every now and again we get to experience something that screams of God's glory. Familiar things for me are flawless night skies, the mountains in Montana, and the sunsets over Lake Michigan and the Pacific. Seeing Victoria Falls trumps everything I've experienced so far. There is a moment on those stone paths past the guard post and trees when the world suddenly drops away and there is the sound of thunder. This first glimpse of the falls is incredible. To the right you see the Zambezi's waters roaring past slabs of rock and falling hundreds of feet into the gorge, the distant pools visible at the bottom. On the left are cliffs, great walls like dark slate made glassy as they are bathed in water forced skyward by the sheer force of the falls. The path to the right takes you to the top of the falls. There the river turns to rapids before hurling itself over the brink. I lost a sandal while dipping my feet into the rushing waters and watched it disappear, a bit of America lost to the Falls.
The other path winds along the cliffs opposing the falls, the trees breaking at various points to offer a better view. Here along the tops of onyx-dark rock one begins to grasp—or rather lose their grasp—of how vast the falls really are. At a couple of points I left the safety of the stone path and guard rails to stand a few feet away from the edge.With no rail to hold or safety net, a bottomless void yawning in front of me, drenched by mist and rain forced up the cliff face, and hundreds of feet of thundering water filling my vision, Victoria Falls boomed out "majesty!" and "magnificence!" The sheer vastness and power of this spectacle can't be fathomed as a whole when one stands right in front of it; on can only take in parts of it at a time. There at the brink I caught a glimpse of God's glory, his incomprehensible vastness and majesty. We all left the falls in the same way, soaked through with water and awe.
For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.
07:00-16:00
"Ascribe to the Lord, O heavenly beings, ascribe to the Lord glory and strength. Ascribe to the Lord the glory of his name; worship the Lord in holy spendor. The voice of the Lord is over the waters; the God of glory thunders, the Lord, over mighty waters. The voice of the Lord is powerful; the vocie of the Lord is full of majesty" -Psalm 29:1-4
There are many things to do in Livingstone, Zambia, and we did many. We took our van/bus hybrid through the game park, checked out some crocs and deadly snakes at the crocodile farm, and haggled our way into some Zambian swag at the open market. We all had a good time at each, but none of these compared to Victoria Falls
Every now and again we get to experience something that screams of God's glory. Familiar things for me are flawless night skies, the mountains in Montana, and the sunsets over Lake Michigan and the Pacific. Seeing Victoria Falls trumps everything I've experienced so far. There is a moment on those stone paths past the guard post and trees when the world suddenly drops away and there is the sound of thunder. This first glimpse of the falls is incredible. To the right you see the Zambezi's waters roaring past slabs of rock and falling hundreds of feet into the gorge, the distant pools visible at the bottom. On the left are cliffs, great walls like dark slate made glassy as they are bathed in water forced skyward by the sheer force of the falls. The path to the right takes you to the top of the falls. There the river turns to rapids before hurling itself over the brink. I lost a sandal while dipping my feet into the rushing waters and watched it disappear, a bit of America lost to the Falls.
The other path winds along the cliffs opposing the falls, the trees breaking at various points to offer a better view. Here along the tops of onyx-dark rock one begins to grasp—or rather lose their grasp—of how vast the falls really are. At a couple of points I left the safety of the stone path and guard rails to stand a few feet away from the edge.With no rail to hold or safety net, a bottomless void yawning in front of me, drenched by mist and rain forced up the cliff face, and hundreds of feet of thundering water filling my vision, Victoria Falls boomed out "majesty!" and "magnificence!" The sheer vastness and power of this spectacle can't be fathomed as a whole when one stands right in front of it; on can only take in parts of it at a time. There at the brink I caught a glimpse of God's glory, his incomprehensible vastness and majesty. We all left the falls in the same way, soaked through with water and awe.
For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.
Letters from Africa - Day 10
Tuesday, June 26th, 2012
As I've been writing these letters I've realized that the majority of them have been a bit heavy. Much of this trip has been dealing with much of the heaviness found here in Zambia, so I've been trying to identify and describe those moments. Thankfully, this is not all that Zambia is, far from it in fact. As crushing as the weight of the disease and poverty is, Zambia is also a place of great joy and laughter. There have been plenty of both on this trip, especially today. So for now, I'll touch a bit on the lighter side of our trip.
First of all, the food is awesome. We've had chicken, pasta, loads of different greens, goat (some of us), fish, and the ever-present nshima. My favorite would have to be the fish, or a fish, to be more accurate. One of the more popular dishes at restaurants is a whole bream fish on your plate. It's gutted and cooked and perfectly fine to eat, but there's something unnerving about having a wide-eyed, open-mouthed creature lying on your plate with someone telling you to eat it. Once you've finally worked up the gumption to pull a piece of meat off the bone though, all doubt disappears. Bream is delicious, and I don't think any of us have qualms about tearing those fish apart until they're piles of fin and bone. This is all done with your bare hands, by the way. Most Zambian meals are, with the ubiquitous nshima mashed in the hand and used as an edible, makeshift spoon. It's a chance to back to high-chairs and play dough, so I'm not complaining
If there's anything I could complain about, it's this: I could've used more bros on this trip, especially today. I think every guy needs to experience an extended trip with 6 girls for company. You will learn to appreciate your brother, and you will learn both how fun and how maddening (sometimes mostly maddening) it is to be the only male with a crew of she-gigglers.
I was in this situation because Abby and Jared had to head to Lusaka (Jared, our token Australian, lost his green card) for an appointment at the US embassy. That left me and Michael "The Professor" Flanagin as the only males to accompany the rest of our team to Livingstone. Don't get me wrong, these are a lovely bunch of ladies. Once the Hannah Cannon starts firing and the vocal major starts gut-busting, however, you're in for a long, loud, and lasting laughter session. Most of the chuckle-inducing content had a more subdued effect for the male psyche. After a two-hour ride in the struggle-bus and dinner at a public pizza place everyone was a bit loopy, the sessions lasting longer and longer. It was a good time, but I was definitely glad when Jared made it back to the hotel.
We spent the rest of the night relaxing in our room, the benefit concert we were supposed to put on being cancelled. Although disappointing, it was nice to have a reprieve from performances. In the morning we are tourists, venturing out to the game park and Victoria Falls.
For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.
As I've been writing these letters I've realized that the majority of them have been a bit heavy. Much of this trip has been dealing with much of the heaviness found here in Zambia, so I've been trying to identify and describe those moments. Thankfully, this is not all that Zambia is, far from it in fact. As crushing as the weight of the disease and poverty is, Zambia is also a place of great joy and laughter. There have been plenty of both on this trip, especially today. So for now, I'll touch a bit on the lighter side of our trip.
First of all, the food is awesome. We've had chicken, pasta, loads of different greens, goat (some of us), fish, and the ever-present nshima. My favorite would have to be the fish, or a fish, to be more accurate. One of the more popular dishes at restaurants is a whole bream fish on your plate. It's gutted and cooked and perfectly fine to eat, but there's something unnerving about having a wide-eyed, open-mouthed creature lying on your plate with someone telling you to eat it. Once you've finally worked up the gumption to pull a piece of meat off the bone though, all doubt disappears. Bream is delicious, and I don't think any of us have qualms about tearing those fish apart until they're piles of fin and bone. This is all done with your bare hands, by the way. Most Zambian meals are, with the ubiquitous nshima mashed in the hand and used as an edible, makeshift spoon. It's a chance to back to high-chairs and play dough, so I'm not complaining
If there's anything I could complain about, it's this: I could've used more bros on this trip, especially today. I think every guy needs to experience an extended trip with 6 girls for company. You will learn to appreciate your brother, and you will learn both how fun and how maddening (sometimes mostly maddening) it is to be the only male with a crew of she-gigglers.
I was in this situation because Abby and Jared had to head to Lusaka (Jared, our token Australian, lost his green card) for an appointment at the US embassy. That left me and Michael "The Professor" Flanagin as the only males to accompany the rest of our team to Livingstone. Don't get me wrong, these are a lovely bunch of ladies. Once the Hannah Cannon starts firing and the vocal major starts gut-busting, however, you're in for a long, loud, and lasting laughter session. Most of the chuckle-inducing content had a more subdued effect for the male psyche. After a two-hour ride in the struggle-bus and dinner at a public pizza place everyone was a bit loopy, the sessions lasting longer and longer. It was a good time, but I was definitely glad when Jared made it back to the hotel.
We spent the rest of the night relaxing in our room, the benefit concert we were supposed to put on being cancelled. Although disappointing, it was nice to have a reprieve from performances. In the morning we are tourists, venturing out to the game park and Victoria Falls.
For more information about Poetice International, its ministry in Zambia, and updates on this trip be sure to check www.poetice.com and follow @livepoetice on twitter.
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