I Made a Deal with a Muslim

As far as free amenities go, Turkish Airlines wins.  My travel experience from New York to Istanbul included two delicious meals, a fantastic movie selection, and a neat little pouch filled with all kinds of necessities like a toothbrush (especially convenient once we realized our bags would be delayed indefinitely), toothpaste, earplugs, an eye mask, lip balm, and pretty green socks.  My seat buddies were two highly considerate Turkish men who weren’t bothered at all by having to get up at least four times to let me go to the bathroom over the course of the flight.  And given the amount of water, tea, and coffee I had consumed over those nine hours, I was highly grateful.
 
On pretty much every flight I have ever taken, I would rather say almost no words to the people sitting next to me, unless they are attractive males my age-ish.  That was my plan on this one as well, until my seatmates decided they wanted to be my friends.  Our topics of conversation included, but were not limited to…
 
…observing differences between Americans and Turks:
“Your people are unhappy.  And they all have pets.  And they put all their happiness in their pets.  In Turkey, we have neighbors, and we talk to them and eat with them.  Your people don’t talk to their neighbors.  It’s very bad.”
 
…explaining the World Race and reasons I actually trust these people:
“You just met these people, and you trust them?  If you were my daughter, I would not let you go.”
 
…discussing differences (and similarities) between Islam and Christianity:
“We remember God a lot because we pray to Him 5 times a day.  Not everyone is like you.  They don’t believe in God, or they only remember Him 1 day a week.”
 
It was the first time I had talked about my faith extensively with someone who didn’t believe me.  It was great and hard and stretching and enjoyable... and essentially inconclusive. 
 
Throughout the course of our discussion, they told me I ought to read Rumi’s Mathnawi.  I had been reading through my paperback copy of Donald Miller’s Searching for God Knows What for the second time, and I felt like God was telling me to give it to them.  It’s one of my very favorite books, bearing marks of love and evidence of time spent with various underlines and comments scribbled in the margins.  I didn’t want to lose it, so I told God that if they asked about the book while I was reading it, I would give it up.  After about twenty minutes, of course, one of them asked. 
 
It led to a very involved discussion about Jesus.  How my new friend sees Him as a great man, a wonderful messenger from Allah, as a prophet—but not as God.  I talked about how Christians see Him as so much more than a messenger:  the Son of God, the sacrifice for our sins… the only way to get to heaven.  How God knew that just doing enough good things wouldn’t cut it, so He made another way for us to be with Him.  How He took our punishment for us.  The meaning of the Cross.  The necessity of it.  The reason it saves us. 
 
And that was hard, because who really enjoys telling people that what they believe isn’t true?  That, according to my religion, your religion isn’t enough?
 
So we made a deal.  I would read his book about Sufism and inner purity, and he  would read my book about how Jesus is all that matters.  We promised to exchange thoughts via contact info we had swapped in the beginning of it all.  He said he would be open.  And I said ‘yes’ to that.
 
The other invited me over to his family’s house in Turkey once I finished the Race in December.
 
“No, I can’t.  I have to go home in December.”
“What?  Why can’t you come in December?”
“Because it will be a year since I’ve seen my family!  I have to go see my family first.”
“Okay.  Well, next year, then.”
“We’ll see.”
 
And I sincerely hope we do.

Pouring Into People, and Also the Ground

Well, we’re down to our final week in Haiti.  It’s amazing how fast time has flown over the past 2 months.  When I think about when I left my house in Oklahoma at 5:30am on that chilly January morning, though, it almost seems like a lifetime ago.  And I guess, in a sense, it was.
 
Our month in the DR was entirely relational, filled with home cooked meals at church members’ homes, playing with rowdy kids, teaching English and Bible stories for the Compassion International school, church services, and an embarrassment of coffee.  While it drove us crazy to not be able to get anywhere in any efficient amount of time, I was always floored by the kindness and love extended by those who barely knew us but called us brothers and sisters anyway.  Pretend Time became the norm, and it wasn’t unusual to hear, ‘You’re leaving already?’ when we had already been sitting in someone’s living room for 2.5 hours.  We went there to serve, and I think we at least provided a break for the Compassion teachers, and a few laughs and fun times for Noky and the church folk – but we were definitely the ones who got served.  My team has agreed that we couldn’t have started the Race better off.

 
This month, however, has looked a little different.  Johnfrank (watch his videos - they're awesome) summed it up well in a conversation one day:  “We spent last month pouring into people, and we’re spending this month pouring into the ground.”  We minister with bricks, concrete, and broken Creole.  We love the Haitian staff workers who cook for and clean up after us, and we’ve made a few friends with workers and school kids on the construction site, but we keep to ourselves for the most part.  Scratches and cement burns have become the norm in the life of our group of 45 (which is an adventure in itself).  All passive-aggressive hell breaks loose when it comes to the shower line and food portions, and alone time is scarce.
 
It’s been a hard month for me.  But God has been dealing lovingly and graciously with my exhausted and introverted little soul, and I am now thankful for this opportunity to connect with other people on the squad.  In light of the craze, I’ve needed every verse I’ve so conveniently “come across” about fear, peace, and being loved by the Father.  Thank God there is a God.

 
All that said, moments of greatness exist here as well:

Each Sunday night, they let our squad run an English service from preaching to worship (I’ve even gotten to sing!).

We picked up a free puppy while walking through town with the pastor’s daughter one day, and now Bailey lives with us at the compound.

I celebrated my 24^th birthday (a little different than my 23rd) with the squad a couple of weeks ago, and my teammates performed a special “birthday rap” written just for me.  And Michelle fashioned my name out of spare wire.

One little 14-year-old girl named Denise from Hands and Feet Orphanage knows me by name, and it’s always fun to see her in passing at every place we frequent.

It’s also been cool to work alongside other Americans (short- and longterm missionaries alike) and hear about their hearts for this country.  Husband and wife Lex (Haitian) and Renee (American) began MOHI and have such passion and influence for and on the Grand-Goave community.  Kim, our ministry coordinator, loves Jesus, construction, and Haiti a lot, and she has the sweetest dreadlocks I’ve ever seen.  Travis was called to Haiti after the 2010 earthquake to do construction and disaster relief training, and he’s staying until God calls him somewhere else.  Another Haitian and American married couple, Gama and Angela, are planning on being the longterm on-site missionaries at the Be Like Brit Orphanage once it’s constructed.  Super neat.

 
So here we are, with only 3 full days left before heading out to Romania!  Please pray for physical, emotional, and spiritual refreshment as we wrap up this last week during.  Also, for safe travels and sanity as we travel for a very, very long time this weekend.  Merci!