GlocalNet

I’m in and out of countries with war, famine, and major crisis, mobilizing communities of faith and followers of Jesus to serve those places as Jesus would have. I’ve just returned from such a trip to 3 nations and, though tired and fighting a cold, really had an awesome time. When I went to one of those places for the first time in early 2002, there was a man that followed me quietly around. He was from one of the ethnic minorities of that particular nation. One night, late, he knocked on the door of the room I was in--he wanted to talk. “You are Christen?” he asked in his broken English. “Yes, I am.” “Me too. I am pastor of my family and two other families here--but very dangerous.” I responded, “I, too, am a pastor.” His eyes lit up. “You pastor, then you must teach me.” How do you teach a guy in a few hours all he needs to know? I gave him my Bible, a Swindoll book on Moses I had with me, a Lucado book, along with Rick Warren’s Purpose Driven life--it had just come out.

On my trips there, I’ve never been able to connect with the guy or find him again, though I’ve tried. As I was getting ready last week, there was a knock on the door at the place where I was staying--it was my friend. I couldn’t believe it. We embraced, and began to talk. He told me how he had used my Bible and the books to help teach others.

What would his faith look like? How would it shape our view of God, not just how would we shape his view. I began to ask him many questions--this was a first generation believer--how did he view God? What was his theology? What would a first generation believer with very little contact with other believers believe? This is a fascinating thing I’ve been asking a lot lately given I meet people like that globally who don’t have centuries of the Christian faith. What are the non-negotiables, how do they define things? When Christianity is taken to its bare bones, what is it really? I asked him, “Who is Jesus to you?” God’s son--and God was his reply. “What do you mean, God?” He replied again, “He is God.” He didn’t know the language of the …

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December 9, 2005

In less than 24 hours, I get on a plane and head to a place that is filled with AIDS, poverty, and every other problem that the world has, to see how we can help them. Then, I head to another place in the world with all the above, and war. Often, in talking to people, if it comes up, or they ask, or there’s some reason to share what’s going on, the first response is, “You’re going where? Why?” Those 2 questions are followed by either a question or a statement. The question is, “Are you sure you should?” or “Be careful.” Most of the time, the people making these statements are always Christians. It’s viewed as so abnormal--but why should it be? My church knows what’s up so I get a lot of well-wishers and encouragers and people calling saying they’ll be praying. Many are excited about what God is doing. I’m not alone--both guys going with me are from NorthWood--one used to be in the special forces and another used to be leader on a SWAT team here in the metroplex. Not bad partners!

“God speed!” “Press on!” “Rock on!” “Have faith!” What would believers look like that said things like that? What would a church look like that believed things like that? Maybe, like the church in China or India or Indonesia or Iraq or. . .  Watchman Nee, in his book The Normal Christian, says that we have come so far from where Christ is and what He wants, that what is normal today would be really abnormal to the early Christians. He says that when we start living the Kingdom that we will look abnormal to others.

Father, I want to know You, serve You, experience You, love You in Your way--not mine. Holy Spirit, give me clarity to see the truth and power to live it. Jesus, I lay my life down, not without a struggle--and will have to lay down again tomorrow, and the next day, and so on, because my flesh is so strong--but nonetheless, I lay it down, so You can be raised up, the hope of
humanity--the Glory of the Father.

A couple of weeks ago, I was in Nigeria in the city of Egbe. I was there with a friend, Tracy Goen, a doctor who does a tremendous amount of work with people there--and who has been very effective. He wants us to help him in doing more work and mobilizing churches to engage the community there in the various domains of society. There were many fascinating things about the people and the area. No work is done without the blessing of the King--so, one afternoon we went to his palace to meet with him. He vaguely knew who we were--it was more of a social call.

We bowed as we entered and were ushered into his court, following behind him. He went straight to his throne, climbed some steps, and sat down. We then sat down on chairs a few feet from his throne. He began by telling us the story of the first white missionary who came in the early 1900’s. They called him a “webo” and every white person since him. They had never seen a white man, so when he came out of the jungle into the village they thought someone had peeled the skin from him--thus “webo"—-peeled skin.

Tracy began to tell him what we did around the world and the more Tracy talked, the more the King became interested. He would ask us questions in his booming James Earl Jones voice, but couldn’t hear at times. At one point, he stopped Tracy, motioned to his servant, stood, and came off his throne and had a chair placed directly in front of us and sat there where he could look us in the eye and be sure he heard everything being said. He began to talk to us like individuals instead of a King on his throne. At no point did we forget who we were talking to, but it became very personal and warm.

That’s just what Jesus did for us at Christmas. God came down off the throne and dwelled among us. Jesus was still God, still reigning, still in control, but also simultaneously a suffering servant, an intimate friend, a close brother, a loving Savior. Christmas--the day God came down from His throne and dwelled among us.

Tribal leader and warlord are words we use interchangeably in the west, but we shouldn’t.  I’ve been with one of those tribal leaders this past week in Afghanistan, and what an awesome man he is.  No, he is not a Christian, but a Muslim.  Yes, he knows I’m a Christian and a pastor.  And, yes, we are very close.  When I came this time, he was concerned for my safety.  It’s hard to judge things here.  His Father was also recently murdered by Talliban, so he is all the more fearful.  Wherever he goes, there are people to protect him.  I told him not to meet me in Kabul but I’d get there and see him. When I got off the plane, who is there to greet me but him.  I was happy and sad at the same time.  He’s a significant target.  But he told me, “Bob you are my family and I love you.  I was not happy you came, but if you come and you die, I die with you.” All I could think about was “Greater love has no man than this, that he would lay his life down for his friends.” Know this, he loves God deeply and passionately--though we don’t agree--I so deeply respect his values and life.

We made the trip fine, but reflecting on this, I couldn’t help but think...here is this Muslim willing to die for a Christian trying to obey God.  Question.  How many Christians love Muslims enough to die for them?

What a woman! What a wife! I love my wife.  She’s an adventurer at heart. I’m a painter. She’s an engineer. I’m an explorer. She’s an organizer. I’m loud--she’s not. I’m crazy--she’s refined. I’m ENFP--she’s ISTJ. How we’ve made it 25 years must astound Mr. Meyers and Mrs. Briggs. (She’s real accurate--I guess at a lot of stuff.)

I just talked to her on the phone. She’s in Kenya in the bush on the northern edge of the Serengeti. She’s on a “real” safari. I haven’t been able to talk to her for a week. The tent they stayed in was more like a hotel once you went inside. She said they watched an old lion slowly move an entire herd of zebra into a den of lions that then landed on them for supper one night. She also told me about going to a Masai village where the men would dance in a circle and then jump as high as they could to get as many girlfriends and wives as possible. Their 2-year-old sons held their own staffs and would jump outside the circle as their fathers jumped. Nikki assured me she was still mine—however, Kay, the lady with her, looked very strong and very tall so some of the Masai men felt she could. I had difficulty hearing her. They were having to stop for giraffes in the road!

They’re on their way to speak to Kenyan pastor’s wives. Not white missionaries. As a matter of fact, it’s pure Kenyan through and through. She isn’t being escorted by “whites” but by beautiful black Kenyans. She gets to see the world through their lens and not one filtered by others. I’m glad for her. She’ll be talking to the pastor’s wives and others.

She told me it’s a place all it’s own. We’re in Asia a lot.  She said, “It’s not Asia--it’s its own place.” It is. I’ve been there. I wish everyone had to live in about 8 different countries for 6 months for a 4-year period. Only then, could we see the creativity of God and the uniqueness of each tongue and tribe.

Have courage. Have fun. Be bold. Be adventuresome. Rock on Nikki.

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