What A Weekend

Went away from this little texas town for the weekend (praise the Lord).

We did these things:

Went to San Antonio and ate at Chuy's

Stayed the night in San Marcos at a guy's house and played with his horse and donkey

Got up, went to Austin looked at really cool vintage guitars

Went to Canyon Lake and took a boat out

Went to the guy's river cabin and kayaked/swam/took pictures

Watched 'wanted' somewhere in a neighboring town

Slept in the cabin

Got up, kayaked, read, hung around the river

Went to a real texas barbecue joint (i hate that word, joint- sounds so hokie): they had some AMAZING cherry limeades

Watched 'Into the Wild' during the day

Went to Greune Hall, and ate at a great place right next to it

Watched 'Hot Fuzz' 

Went to sleep

Got up at 10

Drove back to the camp

Still On the Road

I'm in a small town about an hour from San Antonio, Texas right now. I've been here since last Sunday. Before that I was in Austin for the weekend to break up the drive from Gulf Shores, Alabama.

This is the end of the 4th week of our 8 week worship leading thing. I miss my home. Here's what I mean by home:

Walking around the lake in my old neighborhood in Norman, talking to the Lord and spending time alone with Him. Watching birds, trees, grass, and water worship the King.

Praying with Blake Slatten, Bo Walbrick, Joe Thomas, and Skyler Fike in that house, sprawled out for hours on the floor listening to Sigur Ros or Misty Edwards. Letting the Holy Spirit come and blow our minds again and again.

Going over to the D-house and sitting in the prayer room, talking with Phil Rice, Brett Colclasure, Evan French, Tate James, etc. about what the Lord is doing in our lives that moment.

Wasting the weekends with Crystal Mayhue, Madison Kerner, Blair Gunnels, Evan King, Stephen Pyle, my sister Ashley, and others by going to worship the Lord on Friday nights in the homeless and addicted community of Oklahoma City, then going again on Saturday mornings to spend time at the Crack House- turned- Ministry there.

Practicing and playing shows with The Neighborhood a few times a month, letting the Lord exhaust all my musical abilities.

Praying and doing life with Stephen Pyle, Brett Colclasure, and Madison Kerner- seeing the Lord use parallels and prophetic giftings to heal, speak, and move us in His Kingdom.

But here's the home that I know actually matters:

The place of intimacy with the Lord that comes almost exclusively through suffering.

The place of brokenness that oddly feels so good, because it's what Jesus feels for the ones He loves.

The bruising, the beating, the starving, the exhaustion... that leads to knowing God more.

Lord, my home is in you. But I pray for the people I call my family:

Mom, Dad, Ash, Ashley Lauren, Jon; Stephen Pyle, Brett Colclasure, Phil Rice, Madison Kerner, Crystal Mayhue, Blake Slatten, Grant Ferguson, Ira Ralston, Bo Walbrick, Joe Thomas, Skyler Fike, the Mozambique team, the people at the Refuge, the people at the City Rescue Mission, the people of Praise Night, the musicians around Norman and Tulsa... so many others.

Keep them in the palm of your hand. If you want to take them from me, I understand. I don't deserve any of these beautiful followers of you. I get overwhelmed with gratitude when I think of even one of these people. You've spoken to me so deeply through each of these. Why, Lord? Why do you choose to spoil me like this? How can I begin to be faithful to you when you've done all this for me? Rid me of the lie that I have any say in keeping these people in my life this Fall. I open my hands to you. These are people you've allowed me to fall madly in love with, and my tendency is to latch onto them and call them my own, but I know you have a bigger plan for them. Help me trust you in what comes of these relationships I've seen begin, grow, flourish, and move. Help me move in rhythm with you, and don't allow me to stand in the way of these people doing what you've called them to do. Bless the crap out of them, Lord. Now, in the name of Jesus, even physically, would you just FLOOD their lives with so much blessing that they don't have enough room for it (Malachi 3:10). Thank you, Lord. I love you. I love these people. I love the You in these people. The You in me is drawn to the You in them, and their hearts have resonated so deeply with mine that it has ruined me. I'll never be able to settle for a less-than-mind-blowing, breathing relationship with someone ever again.

Wow.

Brett

I have a good friend named Brett that I've known since I was in 7th grade. We were in a group of about 10 or so close friends that formed while I was in school at Metro Christian Academy (8th grade through 10th).... We ended up going to OU together and were roommates freshman year there. We've experienced a lot together, especially in the last three years. Here's a few things:

*All the things that go along with being roommates during the Freshman Experience at college

*Going through pledgeship at our fraternities (we were in different ones, but it's all the same)

*Discussing and hashing through what it means to follow Jesus in these times

*Working at New Life Ranch in Siloam Springs, Arkansas the summer after freshman year

*Investing in a disciple group through Norman Community Church headed by our close friend Phil Rice

*Experiencing/Learning/Trained/being exposed to the Holy Spirit and the Prophetic gifting, and all the questions, problems, doubts, books, goodness, etc. that goes along with being introduced to that

*Spending many nights at his house our sophomore year when I didn't sleep more than a few hours a night in my frat house

*Driving all night from Norman to Kansas City just to experience more of the Lord

*Me crying in his kitchen in the Fall of last year over a wound the Lord put in my life in order that all this stuff that has happened since then would happen (see post: the desert)

*Praying countless times about my brokenness in the Fall together, asking for the Lord to keep doing the good work he was obviously doing

In the midst of all these little milestones I see when I look over our friendship, I remember always asking him a lot of questions because he is so full of knowledge and wisdom when it comes to the things that matter- spiritual things. Things about the Lord.

It seemed that I could never be around him without talking about what God was doing in our lives, what He was saying, how He was moving. We've definitely made a few bad decisions around each other, but it's beautiful how God orchestrated our lives to come to this point the way they have. Within the last 9 months or so, we've both been broken and shared in a bit of suffering from the Lord- and we both have loved it. We both love the Lord. And we can be a testimony of what a friendship that is based on the Lord can be- A life of it's own that furthers the kingdom of God.

I have other friends that are also living, breathing, moving machines that fight the demonic and arrows of the Enemy- I'm just compelled to write about Brett because of the things mentioned above and because he's by himself on his way to Israel right now for over a month of learning Hebrew and culture and other stuff.

I got to talk to him last night for a little over an hour, and it was by far one of those epic, beautiful conversations that define a friendship. The Lord obviously appointed it; even as I was calling him it was perfect because he was looking for his phone so he could call me. And by the time we hung up, we had both spoken so much life into each other (by the power of the Lord that is in us speaking) that we were ready to trust the Lord with every detail of our lives- If God wanted us to jump off the nearest cliff, I have no doubt we would've sprinted to it.

Anyway, I just wanted to share that this guy is one of the people in my life that I respect the most, look up to the most, admire the most, and love the most. Like I said, there are others, and I'll blog about them too (you already know who you are), but I just had to say this.

Brett:

I'm praying for you every day while you're in Israel. 

Abba, guide every breath he takes, and may you speak to him through every leaf, number, color, person you see, hear, or touch. I pray now in the Name of Jesus that you would reveal more and more of yourself to Brett. Don't allow him to slip out of your hand. I give him over to you, and I say that everything that happens in Israel is perfect in accordance to your good, perfect, and pleasing plan. Don't allow anything in his mind that is not from you. May he rely on you for everything he needs, and may he ONLY find life there. At your feet. May there be a double portion of Holy Spirit that comes from being on his face before you, and a double amount of lacking everywhere else. Thank you for every conversation, every interaction, and every sight he will see. It's all from you. 

...2 (Slow to Speak Continued)

2.

If you know me at all or have read any of this blog, you'll know that I led a mission team to Mozambique, Africa this summer... It was 3 weeks long, then 12 hours after landing I got on a bus and started driving around to Illinois, Alabama, and Texas doing worship music. What you might know is that while I was on the trip (and for the 7 ish months leading up to it) I was usually FULL of things to say- what God was saying to me, what I thought He wanted to say to others... but primarily: what was happening in my life. Then, After the 12 hour turnaround to a completely different rhythm, my mouth practically locked up.

And what you don't know (unless you're Madison Kerner or one of the members of the Mozambique team) is what I've seen, heard, learned, touched, felt, and experienced up to this tour thing. And it's those things (I think) that have me shut up. I'm pretty much speechless.

I thought it'd be therapeutic to edit some of the 2400 photos I took while in Africa. But if the goal was to help me talk more, it was counterproductive. While it did help me solidify that the things I saw were real and actually happened, I think it could have made me a little more pensive overall, and a little less whimsical in my interactions with most people. Gosh, this feels good... getting this out. 

Here's why I've been 'quiet' (which, if you know me well, or are part of my family, you know I'm quite the opposite)....

a) I can't look at the side of the road here in America without thinking about how clean it is. The cleanest streets of Mozambique were where they were only 'half-covered-with-trash' because of the red sand burying the other. Walking on the side of the streets you wouldn't take a step without some kind of trash being under at least part of your footprint.

b) I am always thinking, in some way, about a few of the orphaned, abandoned, AIDS afflicted, abused, malnourished children I fell in love with while I was there. They wanted to come be with me, and I wanted to stay with them.

c) These are some of the things I've seen: A baby boy with his face burned off; A man crossing the street in Maputo's NYC type traffic, dragging his two dead legs behind him, using his knees as feet and his hands like the two forelimbs of an animal (there were too many sights like this one for me to list off); A teenager with Malaria, sitting in a shack next to the bocaria (dump), shaking and sweating, in desperate need of medicine that we take for granted; Children with nothing covering them from the waist down running and jumping in my lap, hiding single starlight mints in their mouths so they wouldn't get beaten up by other hungry children; A child (Santo, 5 years old, below) eating double what I could eat in a sitting, hoping it will fill him until the next Sunday he gets to eat at the church; Naked children wandering streets as we drove by, calloused feet protecting them from glass and trash all over the ground... This is the tip of an iceberg of scenes that pop in my head.

d) These are some of the things I've heard: A child at the center used to live with his mother who poured battery acid into his breakfast drink in order to kill him so he wouldn't cost her any more money; More stories than I can count of little girls that are put out on the street by their parents for money from prostitution. Okay, now I'm just tired of trying to spit it out in list form...

You get the point.

On the victorious side: Just read 'Always Enough' by Heidi Baker (co-founder of the ministry we worked with)... 

The dead have been raised.

The paralyzed have been given the ability to walk.

Limbs have grown back.

Eyes that were blind can see.

Deaf ears can hear.

Hungry people have food and clothing multiplied before their eyes.

I saw the church in Zimpeto (right outside of Maputo) groaning and wailing as a body over the crises of their country (while we were there, Mozambicans were being tortured and killed in South Africa). For a few hours straight. Children, Men, Women, every one. Crying out, literally, facing out around the church (what a concept!), interceding for dying souls.

Again, you get the point. It was intense.

So pretend you did/saw/felt/heard all this in a concentrated amount and then went on a jolly tour around the US playing hip praise songs to a bunch of spoiled brats (even the main speaker calls these kids that from the stage- cuz it's that true) that have to be impressed to give their attention away. From children that just needed a crumb from the dirt (and often ate more dirt than food when picking it up) to bratty kids that have no concept of struggle, needs, desperation, hunger, etc.

That's why I'm quiet I guess. Don't get me wrong. I'd love to talk about it. I have talked about it, and it's been great. But I'm quiet because most of the time we as Americans, or westerners, or somethings-whatever we are... Non-broken? Calloused? Blind? We talk so much more about movies, jokes, entertainment, music, etc. than we do about the Lord. Has it ever bothered you that it's 'awkward' to talk about the Lord in most settings?!

THAT'S why I'm quiet. I'm supposed to be with the broken. How do I know? Because I'm special or have some great heart? No. Because the Lord has broken me and is keeping me broken. It seems that as soon as I 'gain my footing' or get comfy, He (like the last two nights, holy crap.) sends me a dream of warning that breaks me and sends me right back to His feet.

I love to laugh. I love to joke around. But I just don't think I'll ever feel 'at home' in a camp setting where we're gettin' fired up for Jesus all the time, wearing our Jesus shirts, listening to Jesus rap music. I feel like my place is in the trenches, suffering and receiving His bleeding heart. In that place, zeal for His house will consume me, and I'll follow Him into the darkness to be the light. Not running to light and staying away from what needs to be exposed, helped, aided, and fought against. 

So, if you're broken, which I know many of you who told me you read this are...

I'm here, feeling it too. I'm praying with you. send me a message and tell me how I can pray more specifically. 

If you're from the camp staff here where I'm at, know that the listed things above have kept me from being whimsical on the weekends... I'm digesting a lot in the midst of a crowded season I guess. I support what you're doing as a ministry. I'm not feeling the Jesus hype of the services, and I know some of you aren't either. But I've learned (I worked at a camp two years ago) that it's kind of our way of facilitating a place for the Lord to move among American youth. Hook 'em a little bit, then deliver the word God gave us for these kids. Kinda sucks, but it's camp, ya know?

Thanks for reading this. To many of you: I love you and I love that the Lord put you in my life. Hopefully the things from the Lord will stick and the other crap will just fall away. Bear with me.

Slow to Speak...

It's been 10 days since that last entry... Not that that matters much. I guess I'd just rather be writing more on here than that.

Couple things:

1. I've heard people actually read this from time to time.

2. I'm apparently really quiet this summer. And I think I know a bit about why.

1. About 15-20 people (all pretty unrelated) told me in the last couple weeks that they read this thing... That initially scared the crap out of me. I immediately thought of every open post I'd ever written (which is just about every one). But about a couple minutes after that, I was given a deep peace. I've only written what has been heavy on my heart. And despite my people-pleaser way of living (which is toxic unless you're using it as a pastoral gifting or something), I have no reservations, nothing to be 'embarrassed' of. 

I joked with just about everyone who told me they read this, saying, "yeah, I probably look like an emotional wreck on that thing... I think I only write when I'm feeling overly-emotional."

But here's the truth (that I had to share with everyone I talked to): It's not me being emotional at all. It's (hopefully) just Holy Spirit saying, 'get this out. I didn't put it here to sit and be wasted. Don't you know by now that this is how I work? I urge you and disrupt your day and talk to you and open your eyes so you will share it with people.'

2. To be posted above this in another entry.

Isaiah 55

This is the 55th photo I took off the back of our balcony tonight during a storm out on the water about 15 minutes ago:

A Prayer

A woman I met in Mozambique: She lived by digging through trash, just like Santo (below). She and her few friends were the most passionate worshipers and cheerful offering givers I've ever seen. And they lived on freaking WASTE.

I love you.

Thank you for the people you've placed in my life. Thank you for calling me deeper. I am honored to be invited to suffer with you. When I hear the Enemy coming after me, his disgusting breath stinging my nostrils, as if he's just about to wrap the noose around my neck, I am filled with joy. I am filled with joy in suffering because I know it is the storm before the calm. It is the time right before I get to fall more in love with you because of your steadfast love, your everlasting and ever-delicious provision, faithfulness, and revelation. I don't claim to have you figured out. You are blowing my mind every day. When I am confused, frustrated, and even doubting, I know deep down that you are constant. Your love will never end. Your faithfulness will never end. Your goodness will never end. Your provision will never end. I love your name.... Lord. Jesus. Holy Spirit.

Holy Spirit, fall. Fall on the people/person who read/s this right now in the name of Jesus. We welcome you into our lives, Lord. We want to be like you. Even though that will look like a bruised, bleeding, exposed heart beating out of our chests, we welcome it. Thank you for wanting our hearts. Take them. We say they are yours.

Things are moving in your Kingdom. Things are also trying to move against those things from the Opposing side. But we know that this is just affirmation that you are taking ground for the restoration of lost souls, runaway children, sickness, death, and destruction. Come, Lord! Take your place on the throne of our hearts, and reach out through them through your ministry of reconciliation. Make us completely empty of ourselves in order for your will to be done.

Reader,

I love you. 

Thank you for reading this. Be blessed by this somehow. If there's anyway I can, and I don't care if this sounds weird, I pull you into this fire. It is such a good burn. You will be rid of everything that is not the Lord's. You will be used to visit the widowed and the orphaned, proclaim liberty to the captives, and feed the hungry. Your war will no longer be for flesh and blood. It will be a spiritual battle that will bring Glory to the Lord.

And I'm not saying this because I've got this down. God's got me down, I guess. He's got my legs tied, and the rope is thrown over his shoulder. He's raking me across the coals, dragging me through rocks, water, mud, and blades. It's hitting me even now. This life of intimacy with the Lord is not fun... all the time. It is very fun many times, but holy crap! It hurts! But here's the sick thing: it's such a good hurt. I'd rather feel pain from Him, knowing it's His Will, than feel the pleasure of one more sexual interaction, back rub, porn trip, pot high, or alcohol binge.

Release control.

He's good.

I can honestly say I've tasted and seen it. And not through 'Blessed Christianity' as we see it on TV and the pulpits of our white-middle-class-American churches. And not because I've surfaced from the Refining Oven that burns. But IN it. IN the MIDDLE of it. INSIDE it. Stop waiting for a 'good time' to sit back and release the control. Do it now.

That's all.

Amen.

Psalm 98

'Sing to the Lord a new song, for he has done marvelous things.: his right hand and his holy arm have worked salvation for him. 2 The Lord has made his salvation known and revealed his righteousness to the nations. 3 He has remembered his love and his faithfulness to the house of Israel: all the ends of the earth have seen the salvation of our God. 4 Shout for joy to the Lord, all the earth, burst into jubilant song with music; 5 make music to the Lord with the harp, with the harp and the sound of singing, 6 with trumpets and the blast of the ram's horn- shout for joy before the Lord, the King. 7 Let the sea resound, and everything in it, the world, and all who live in it. 8 Let the rivers clap their hands, let the mountains sing together for joy; 9 let them sing before the Lord, for he comes to judge the earth. He will judge the world in righteousness and the peoples with equity.'

Okay, today was one of those beautiful break-through type days. Gosh, thank you Lord!

Here's the deal: (I say that alot, but I'm not gonna stop)

Pretend this is the beginning of the post, because Psalm 98 is actually the end part where things just come together beautifully.

I'm on the road with a worship band. And it's hard. And we all see each others' everything. There's 8 of us total (usually- these two weeks in Orange Beach we are down to 7), including one girl (Taylor- Nick's wife), so you can imagine the amount of stress when we are on the road for hours together in a van and setting up gear for 12 hours or so on Sunday nights and tearing down until 3 or 4 am on Friday mornings.

Doing this 12 hours after landing from Africa has made it even harder, because it's just not 'how it should be' as a worship band tour. We're supposed to be praying over each other, worshiping as a band while off stage, etc., right? not necessarily.

God has a crazy way of doing things. And it's ALWAYS to get to our hearts. He wants us to be completely His. No, some aren't called to give everything up physically (although I'd argue that many more are called to that than are doing that at the moment), but EVERYONE is called to be found in Jesus. We are all called to be living in mind-blowing intimacy with Him EVERYDAY.

So today was one of those days where a ton of things that were disjointed all of a sudden fell together. And a lot of it is thanks to a penny I found on the ground. (Some of you who are close to me are smiling right now). God does a weird thing with me and pennies. And I know a few people who have it too. But it's awesome. God puts pennies on the ground for me to find at beautiful times. The penny was 1998 and I just for some reason knew I had to read Psalm 98 because of it. And it couldn't have been more perfect. The last few days I've received news of things being stirred in the Kingdom as I've known it. There's a lot of change and movement happening. Not to be vague or anything (wink. sorry.) In the midst of that, I've had people talk to me from some very vulnerable and intimate places too. Basically, as I've said before- the Enemy is so pissed. And I love it.

Sorry, whoever reads this. This is so jumbled up. Anyway, I'll just wrap this up. We had some ridiculous worship tonight in spite of what felt like some confusing, frustrating few days slash weeks slash month. We saw many saved and a cross covered in things the Enemy were binding people by. The theme was FREEDOM: something that's been prophesied over me a lot lately.

HERE'S WHERE PSALM 98 TIES IN:

v. 1: Tonight's worship was ground breaking for our band. I was running sound, and I got to pray over the band as we played through the talkback mic in the midst of some spiritual warfare.

v. 2: We just got back from seeing God make his salvation known to the 'nations' (Mozambique).

v. 3: Some things I've been hearing about (the movements, changes, confusing developments, etc.) are just reminding me of God remembering His covenant with me that He will never leave me, and that He will continue to be intimately involved in my life, allowing me to keep falling in love with Him.

v. 4-6: Tonight's worship again. I wish you could have been there. Very Sigur Ros- like, completely the Lord's notes coming through the speakers, literally shaking everyone's chests.

v. 7-8: I can see the sea from where I'm sitting. And hear it clapping for the Lord. It will never stop.

v.9: Again, beautiful, joyous worship in awe of the Most Terrifyingly Awesome.

So here we go- this is kinda what I wrote in my journal during worship:

I don't give a crap what happens to me- where I end up living, how 'comfortable' I am, how in control I am, how much money I have or need, if people leave me or stay around me, if You give or take away. I belong to You. (just looked at the clock- 12:31- my birthday, and a very personal number that pops up when I'm being given identity) I'm yours, Jesus. Do whatever you want with me. Wreck my life. Make me look like Job if you want to. I really don't care. Whatever means more of you in my life. And for those times when I wish I hadn't prayed this- disregard them. This is my hearts desire. This is you inside me coming out, interceding for me. I don't need anything from anyone except you. You really are everything I will ever need.

I love you, Lord. Bless the people who read this, and despite my jumbled writing right now, allow your words to stick. 

Orange Beach

Paulito: A baby from the center at Iris that loved to kiss me on the cheek with his ever-runny nose.

I'm sitting in the lobby of a condo/hotel thing looking out over the gulf of Mexico. We just pulled in about 20 minutes ago, and since tomorrow will probably be a full day of set up and sound check, I thought I'd go ahead and blog while I could.

I'm still feeling a bit anti-social, so I'm sorry for not responding yet to some people who have tried to contact me. Well, it's more about the fact that I have moments alone and without a job to do, so THOSE times are when I get anti-social.

We drove all day today. I found myself looking over Exodus 33 because I felt like parts of me were surfacing when it should always just be the Lord who is present. Exodus 33 has always been an underlying, all-encompassing scripture that I have needed terribly.

Today, these few verses really stuck out to me:

v. 7:

Now Moses used to take the tent and pitch it outside the camp, far off from the camp, and he called it the tent of meeting. And everyone who sought the Lord would go out to the tent of meeting, which was outside the camp.

This is appropriate for this season on the road, because I'm having to run away from 'the camp', the things that are going on, etc. that is keeping me from being completely intimate with Jesus. I love Phillip Rice's worship record, "Intimacy with Jesus in the Quiet Places." That is the theme for me for this season for sure. I have to run away and choose Him. There are endless things to steal my heart right now- even on the beach. I can look out and be distracted by entertainment and enjoyment of this beach for myself, or I can walk out there and listen for the Lord. Maybe He doesn't want me to have some memorable experience I can put down in my journal. Maybe He just wants to speak softly and intimately to me in spite of the glamorous facade of beach entertainment. Don't get me wrong... We can feel the Lord's hand through the most indulgent of situations- in bars, at shows, etc. etc... But there's something I've found in choosing the Lord as my portion. When I would rather be a poor man than a rich man, a doorman in the courts of the king instead of a king in my own kingdom, it's MUCH sweeter and more enjoyable when God puts us in such blessed places, like where I am in Orange Beach.

v.11:

Thus the Lord used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend. When Moses turned again into the camp, his assistant Joshua the son of Nun, a young man, would not depart from the tent.

Two things:

I want to speak to the Lord face to face.

I want to be in a place, as part of a Joshua Generation, where I am hungry for the Presence of the Lord to a point where I will stay in His Tent and only leave when He goes out.

v. 15:

And he said to [the Lord], "If your presence will not go with me, do not bring us up from here."

This will always be huge for me. This means I would rather suffer my whole life with the Lord's Presence close to me than go be comfortable anywhere else.

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.