Still Reeling

Here's one of the 2,400 photos I took in Mozambique: His name is Santo, which means 'holy'. He lives by digging through trash at the dump called the bocaria. When I met him this day, His face never changed expression. I gave him my meal (which I can't even eat half of) and he ate it in under a minute, because he's used to being beaten up by stronger kids for having food that they are hungry for.

It's been about a week since being back in the states and I don't see myself feeling 'at home' any time soon.

Which is probably a good thing. Actually I'm sure that it's a good thing. You see, exactly 12 hours after landing in OKC I was repacked and hopping in a 17-passenger van with a 2 ton trailer headed for Illinois with Nick Thurmond. I'm running sound and playing keys for him for 8 weeks, traveling around to different camps to lead worship.

I don't have a whole lot to say about the Mozambique trip yet- I still have to let it sit and allow the Lord to give me clarity on all that happened, so I'll get back to you on that. For now, I can go on and blog as I live life on the road (I have two journals going right now... One halfway empty from Africa so I can fill in what I feel God is telling me about the trip, and one brand new one I started at the beginning of this tour).

Here are a couple things I have to say so you can know where I am at the moment:

On our trip home from Africa we had a 12 hour layover in New York, so we went into the city and shopped (most of us left all our clothes in Mozambique, and seeing how I was leaving 12 hours after getting back to Oklahoma, I had to get some things), ate, and walked around Manhattan. This was nuts because we had just been around the poorest of the poor (Mozambique is the 3rd poorest country), and now we found ourselves in the center for media, fashion, and money.

That was a week ago yesterday. Since then I've received royalty treatment from camp authorities, getting room service, golf carts, and 'per diem' (money allowed to me per day so I can go blow it on things I don't need because the camps feed me). And now, on our halfway point to Orange Beach, Alabama (our second camp where we stay in condos on the beachfront- not your typical church camp) we are in Nashville, Tennessee at the Gaylord Opryland. I'd never heard of it, but here's a link to their website. It is easily the nicest hotel I've ever been in, much less stayed the night in.

So needless to say, I'm screwed up. I have no equilibrium, 'home', or sense of consistency. A big part of me feels gluttonous, materialistic, and petty for not sleeping out in the streets outside of these beautiful hotels and condos. I feel hypocritical for holding the naked, abused, starving and raped in my arms in Africa and then sleeping in beds fit for celebrities a week later in the US.

This is good. Because the Lord is my only constant. He is the ONLY thing I can call 'home'. And it's a very good thing I've made my home in Him. If I found any home in this world and it's things it offers, I'd be more screwed than I am already.

And here's a funny addition to this ramble:

The Lord is speaking louder now than He ever did in Africa. I know, It's much more confusing to me than it is to you, trust me. And maybe by 'louder' I just mean 'more understandable'. I feel like I have the confusing situations figured out, and the simple, 'of course' places are the most perplexing. 

Okay, now that I've talked myself out a bit, I feel better. At least a little. I'm excited to see what God does.

Oh, and even though I don't have much to say about Africa yet, I can say this:

I can't even begin to thank those of you who prayed... And I know there are many of you. And many of you prayed for many hours. Thank you. You will never know what that means to me. I'll thank you more soon, and with more details of why I'm so thankful.

I love you all.

Blake.