September 14th, 2008

Thus far in our journey my son and I have flown ten hours east, hung out in Heathrow for a few hours, and are now in the midst of 8 hours flying at 37,000 feet south by southeast to Nairobi. We’ve been congenial, chatting, eating, reading, looking at movies on the seatback in front of us, nodding off for naps. I feel it to be right and proper that at this season we are together, moving in a focused way toward an uncertain future.

While in Heathrow we encountered a divine appointment of sorts. We were standing in line behind a woman while waiting to get our boarding passes for Kenya Airways. Anne Cagwin, and her husband, Tim, turned out to be a career missionaries for Rafiki Foundation of Kenya (0736 925 745). He is the school principal and she an elementary school English teacher in northwest Nairobi at an orphan care center. The eight cottages of ten children each have a nanny; they work, play, live together in a walled compound. There are ten such villages in Africa, seven here in the east and three in west Africa. Founded by the same woman who started Bible Study Fellowship. I forget her name. She’s pushing 80 now and lives in Eustace, FL. Perhaps we will taxi out there and learn more while in town. Spirit led encounters like this always delight me.

September 13th, 2008

Some of my readings on this flight thru London to Nairobi on these hours of September 12th and 13th, 2008: I’m focused on establishing a Spirit led--and not need or worry driven--rhythm of rest and work. Sometimes this means I move thru a cycle known thru history as “lecturio divine”: reading, reflecting, responding, resting, and resolving to act. The cycle can be long or short. Balance in this rhythm method gives way to birth: a birth of creative thinking, feeling, and doing. In the midst of so much doing on this mission trip I remind myself: Vance, guard yourself against straight do-do. J Instead, I need to let my spirit sing that “do-be-do-be-do” rhythm (Thank you, Frank Sinatra).

If I have a hope of gaining this rhythmic goal, I need to attend to three guiding insights:

Identity, then empathy. One of the most tasking of these processes involves feeling whatever it is that I am feeling, thinking what I’m thinking, sensing what I’m sensing. My feeling, my thinking, my sensing. My little being within God’s Being. Not the thinking, feeling, sensing that another human expects or wishes or judges to be correct. Once I have located the me, I can then seek out the we. I can see you. Clearly. A legitimate bridge of warm empathy is then possible.

Consolation. As I move into this next second, is my experience one of growing consolation or desolation? Am I able to claim an attitude/feeling of absolute indifference to anything but God’s own life and love within me? If so, I am consoled, quieted, confident. If not, I am increasingly de-souled, desolate.

Gravity. Another challenge while flying high or low through complexity and uncertainty is to remind myself periodically of the truths that God is absolutely good, loving, and involved in the particulars of my life. All three of those thoughtful truths tug me down to ground. Otherwise spiritual dementia mixes with my sin of anxiety to lift me up unnaturally into a cloud. Together these enemies obscure the gravity, the moment, of God’s substance moving into and thru my own. The Spirit wants to claim my heart, invade my own time-torn tatters, and pull me into the Trinity’s own circle of absolute adoration. My little destiny creek trickles down into the ocean of Their own singular, grand designs. I resist, ignore, and occasionally yield. Ah, Lord, increase the yield of my life. Yes, increase my yield. Thank you, Lord, for both hearing and empowering.

I’ve been reviewing the last 250 pages of my journal. Quietly. Seven miles over the Sahara desert in this Boeing 777 moving southwards at 600 mph. I’m surprised by the number of dreams I’ve recorded, some with work done on them, many just dashed off and not mulled over at all. Diamonds in the rough just lying at my feet and not picked up. One dream symbolized them as checks floating un-cashed on the ocean floor. Whispers from God gone unheeded, perhaps because I’m not ready in those moments to obey. At those times He is merely Savior and not Lord. I’m reminded of this quote:

"God's voice comes to us in ways that are easy to reject. He
comes to us as a baby in a stable, when we were looking for a prince on a
white horse. He comes to us in a shadowy dream, when we were looking for a
solid text of Scripture. He only lets us prophesy in part and know in
part (I Corinthians 13:9), when we want complete understanding.

Why don't you speak more plainly?" we ask. Would it really do
any good if he were to speak more plainly? He has already said much more
than most of us want to hear. He commands us very plainly to love our
enemies, do good to those who hate us, bless those who curse us, and
pray for those who mistreat us (Luke 6:27-28). Who wants to hear these things,
let alone obey them? The church can't even stop cursing those who curse
us, much less bless them. Why should God speak more plainly to people
who ignore his clearest commands? Why should he unlock the secrets of
his kingdom to a church that seems bent on mutual destruction? " P 330, Surprised by the Voice of God.

September 14th, 2008

Here I am under a mozzie net in Nairobi. Face lit by the computer light at 4 am. Dima sleeping next to me, snoring noisily. Mozzies bouncing off the netting. Nursing a headache. Just off the plane from LAX thru London. Lord, I love you. Guide our feet and thoughts aright as we move down toward that big pile of rocks they call Mt Killimanjoro. We look for a grand adventure in following you through your own might and means. Amen.
12 hours later. Quite a bouncy trip in matatu, bus, and semi-bus through the Tanzania border ( We’re here now at Hotel Marangu. Just had our briefing for beginning the trek tomorrow. We’ll be in a group of 8-9 travelers and 18-19 guides and porters. These people here are very wise, thorough, experienced. Brits. The fellow giving the 2 hr lecture tonight was typically understated with his humor and quite kind and encouraging. Dora, the quartermaster, will arrive, goose-stepping, tomorrow to check our packing materials, clothing, boots, and so on and then give strict instructions to add or delete from our stuff before we’re allowed to set foot on the mountain. Yavol, commanandent! (sound of heels clicking).