Love Recklessly

They walk
They run
From here
All the way to there
All the time being followed
But they don’t see
They only believe
They are the murderers
The alcoholics
The beaters
Bruisers
But nobody knows it
We only believe
The masks are thick and deep
They wear on their faces always
They are the hair stylists
The closet homosexual
The football player
The construction worker
The blue collar employee
The priest
But nobody cares
We just say we do
Their stomachs are full
But their hearts are empty
Minds are riddled with confusion
But hearts are full of holes
Can’t hold water
Can’t hold love
They are the broken
They are the narcissistic
They are the humble
They are the arrogant
They are you
They are me.
There is a severe famine in this world
There is a severe hunger in our souls
A rose, a garden
Misrepresent something so longed for
Aesthetic beauty fills the world around us
The flowers
The trees
The sun
The moon and stars
All a gift from someone
But science has disproved that
Made something beautiful…
Random…
Thus a famine for one thing that science lacks
A hunger for something that the media pretends to offer
We ask for love and are given romance
We ask for care and are given a rock
We ask for healing and are given a Band-Aid
All of it a longing for fulfillment
All of it a longing
A hunger
For that which makes us feel
Anything at all…
Love is in serious shortage
True, pure love is unequivocal
Real love is naïve and foolish
Real love is pain and hurt
Real love is a commodity
Real love means vulnerability
And in our world of success
Vulnerability is a no-no
How can we love if we don’t trust?
Recklessly trust
Recklessly love
They are the hurt
The pained
The broken down
They trust too much
They love too much
They are the peaceful
The loved
The joyful
They are you
They are me
Capable of something more
Capable of love
Incapable of nothing
Built in love
Built for love
Built for Him
Built to love recklessly…

The Truth Is

Turn on your radio and put it on scan. Mark down how many songs are about love. I bet that 80% of the songs on the radio cover this common topic (the 20% being Christian music, which covers a different love and rap music talking about God knows what), in fact one may say that the world is obsessed with love. Love is barely even noticeable behind all of the make-up put on it today. Movies and music, games and behavior, goals and social lives: All are centered on love; but love has been reduced to romance. Everything seems to be centered on finding the “one and only”, or just having sex to make yourself feel good. That’s what it seems to be all about doesn’t it? The commercial world we dwell in tells us that everything is permissible, and good, as long as it makes you feel good. Love will make you feel good. Love will conquer all your heartache and messed up tendencies. Love will fill that longing, aching heart you have in your chest. Well, I guess they are one to something, but they got their forms of love all screwed up.
The truth is that I am so tired of living for that kind of love: The kind of love that will never be enough to fill; the kind of love that will end up giving just as much hardship as peace; the kind of love that is centered primarily on me. The kind of love that we see advertised is a feel good love, and a feel good love is not true love at all. A feel good love is a love that will always disappoint and will always come up short because, well, we don’t always feel good, do we? I have been in a few relationships, and have seen many more, and I can tell you that rarely does a relationship evolve past this mentality of “I love you because you love me”. I have seen people give their hearts into relationships just to realize that the other person never loved them. I have been in a relationship centered on feeling good, and, although it was a great experience, it just was missing a certain something. Love is missing a lot of something, at least the love I am sold on TV and in Music.
“I’m so tired
Of livin’ for
The kind of love
That only comes and goes”
The truth is that I am tired of love and how it is thrown in my face everywhere. You go to a family get-together and they all ask you why you don’t have a girlfriend. You go to work and the people wonder when you’ll get married. You go to church and you see things like singles groups trying to hook you up. You go to a bar and you expect to hit on a girl. It’s everywhere. The opposite sex is the most important thing in this world to a high majority of people in the West, but what happens when you find that special person? What happens when, 2 years into your marriage, you stop feeling good and happy when your wife spends too much money? What happens when you lose everything banking on marriage you thought would last forever?
The truth is that I am tired of false love and its promotion by damn near everyone. A great man once said “This is true love: if a man is willing to die for his friend”. When was the last time you saw someone sacrifice themselves for someone else, and not to feel good about it or make amends, but just because they needed it. True love is as rare as an eclipse in a world searching endlessly to find it. Instead, we get wedding chapels in Vegas and a divorce rate over 50%. Where the heck did we get so far off course from what it meant? Well, the truth is that love has always been something of highest importance, and that it has always been sought fiercely. I have a feeling that this wandering is nothing new, just like most things.
I am so tired of living for this love, but my heart is still aching for a romance. Where shall I find solace from the whispers of my heart in a world that doesn’t know anything of real love? The arms I run into are getting harder to find, yet I search none-the-less. Precious Lord, abide with me.

Flashbacks: Final Announced Update on September 13, 2010

As I sat in the van, driving to the airport an intense mix of emotions was flowing over my mind. On one hand, I had wanted to leave the Ship for a while, and on the other hand, I was already missing those whom I had said goodbye to. That mix of emotion continued through the flying to Barcelona, the long day in Paris (worst airport ever!) and my time with a friend outside of Atlanta. Now I sit where I started, but I sit a different person, with a redeemed soul, and a semblance of passion in my soul. As I look over the OM USA base, it remains the same, yet I am not the same. I have been touched by the lives that have come into my heart; a heart that has been ripped to shreds again and again. I sit here shy in the wonder of guy, and fearful of time passing my by, going much faster than I am. Tears fill my heart as I look upon the last two years on the Logos Hope, and I can truly say that I enjoyed it, no matter how much I wanted to leave at points.
The OM USA office is a place of wonderful solitude. Set in the backwoods town of Tyrone, Georgia, it sits outside of metro-Atlanta by a number of miles. The property is surrounded by woods, and the housing is high class as far as I can tell. It’s very quiet and reflective here, and it is easy for me to get caught up in my emotions. I see things that remind me of the start of my journey, places that I first met people I would grow far closer to, and my mind goes on a train seeing before my minds-eye the events of a long two years; the arrival in Denmark, PST, all the way to recent Africa. The events are the paper on which my story has been written, and the people are the words which make up this story. The ship has put so many wonderful people in my way, so many I will never see again. It breaks my heart to think of those who laughed with me, challenged me, loved me regardless of my many imperfections, and just spent time with me. I look back and see how lucky I was to spend time with people such as these. I look ahead and see the moments I need to cherish with those who are real.
I will spend the next few days saying goodbye to the Ship in my heart and preparing to move on to the next adventure in my life. I will go through processing talks with a mentor, and reflect on everything, preparing my heart to be steadfast in the face of temptation. The next days will be spent remembering how I have been blessed by so many people in my life, so many wonderful people, not just on the Ship, but in Michigan as well. I will never forget any heart that has made a true connection to mine, and I thank God that so many hearts cared. I will miss you, friends abroad, and I already do…

The Last…: Update on September 6, 2010

The past two weeks have been a strange mix of emotions for me. This will be my last blog written on board the Logos Hope, and it is a strange feeling to think that. There have been many lasts lately, and emotionally, I am somewhat at a loss. I don’t really know how to feel, since I am leaving so many awesome people and such a unique and cool opportunity and ministry, yet Michigan holds its share of wonderful people and opportunities, plus I am coming in with some new ideas, ideals, values, and passions. The past two years have been fantastic and incredibly challenging. I have changed a lot after getting on my own and discovering the world, and I pray I continue to change.
Two weeks ago, we said goodbye not only to the country of Liberia, but, for me, the continent of Africa as a whole. Africa was a blessing to me, even though it was the hardest place I have ever been. I have never been more challenged to see past my own stereotypes and prejudices, often failing to see the touch of God in every face that wanted something from me. I fell desperately short of treating the Africans how I would like to be treated, and was often cold and rude, yet I feel like the chances I had to get to know some, we both felt loved, especially with the kids. African kids are awesome, never doubt that.
So as we sailed from that place, I did my last week of sea watch on the bridge of the place I have called home the past two years. I steered a lot due to a broken Gyro Compass, and had a good time with a close friend on the watch. God blessed me with the week of peace on the open sea; one last week of sailing.
Upon arrival, the mix of emotions really took hold of my heart. This (Las Palmas, Canary Islands, Spain) was the last port I would ever sail into. My heart was so confused with joy, excitement and sadness. That was wiped away when I went to the beach straight after my work. The next three days were very busy with trips to the beach, and some more lasts for me. Friday was my last day of work in the I-Café and was a good day, but stressful due to a massive language barrier (they speak Spanish here). The next day was something incredibly unique for me, and was amazing, yet tiring. We had a concert-type event outside of the ship. It was a plaza outside in the middle of town, and for an audience of almost 1,000 people. Setting up took all morning, but was all worth it when the event got underway. We displayed all the different cultures on the ship, and I did one of the best Swing Dance performances I have done to date (I hope to get a video before I leave) for the huge audience. We challenged the attendants to look elsewhere for peace and joy at the end, and some had conversations.
Yesterday (Sunday), was my last day of significance on the Ship. By that I mean that I have off until I leave. Yesterday, we had a family program on board which was a lot like a school carnival in the States. 850 people attended the program, and I sold snacks to many of them, and did my last swing dance performance, maybe ever! It was crazy.
Last night, KC from Canada along with two others started the leaving train that includes me. They left at 2 in the morning, and yet again the strange feelings encompassed me. I don’t know how to describe it, as I wasn’t crying or sorrowful, yet I was sad. I will miss the friends I have made dearly, and already do miss many of the ones I have said goodbye to. The ship forces goodbyes so much, and it has been a heavy burden that will only be heavier in four days’ time.

Sleepless Nights: Update from August 19, 2010

I have been writing a lot about children lately; how my time with them affects me, how they love, and other random thoughts. I have always known that I want to have my own someday, and raising a family is one of my dreams, but this past weekend put that dream closer to reality. I was on a team staying the night at an orphanage for kids who have been abandoned which also served as a refuge for mothers who have been abandoned which was a good hour drive outside of Monrovia, Liberia. There were around 15 kids that lived there ranging from infants to 12 years old, around 5 severely, mentally handicapped and there was one mother with triplets who had been abandoned.
It was a crazy place that, to be honest, I was not quite ready for it, mentally. As we arrived, the kids were shy and were made to sing us a welcome song. The place we were to spend the next 48 hours in was nicer than I thought it would be, at first. As you got to know it, it became less enamoring, but the hearts that the place housed became all the more wonderful. It was a simple building painted something like a school out of the 80’s or early 90’s with the bland yellow color and an ugly maroon shade occupying the walls. There was a TV there which was used every night when the generator was turned on, around 7 or 8 pm. One experience was the Liberian movies, which were like a bad High School drama production. We brought along a Veggie Tales movie to play for the kids, but I am not sure that they quite understood it fully, as a lot of the humor is very American. They liked watching it because they could tell it was well done though. The first night was occupied with dinner and getting to know the kids a little bit and a movie.
The next day was Sunday, and we had prepared a program for the kids for some point in that day. After a hot, restless night, I woke up to babies crying, which I would find out consistent ambience all throughout our two days at the place. As the day progressed and we played with the children, the Sunday “service” was called. We did our thing, or parts of it, and finished. The day continued and, as the team ran out of energy, the playing fizzled into naps and reading with the kids. That night, we got the front seat to another African movie, which was awful. Then we went to sleep, or at least I tried to.
The second night was worse than the first as it was just as hot, and I was too tired to sleep well. The bed I was on (we were very blessed to even have beds) gave me the impression that I was being invaded by a legion of bugs that wanted my flesh. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning I was grumpy, but the kids were not. They wanted to play, which is about all I could squeeze out of my energy.
Details aside, the trip was awesome, and the most touching parts were the attachment built by the kids to us, and to see how they appreciated us giving them attention. To see at least some of their needs met, not only by the things passed out, but also by the attention we gave them; especially the two of us men. God used us even though we were broke, even though we ran out of energy half way through and could no longer play with them that much.
As we prepared to leave, all the kids started to cry, which cut to my heart. I was too tired to cry, but my heart went out to those which I had developed a strong bond with. They were beautiful.

Sleepless Nights: Update on August 19, 2010

I have been writing a lot about children lately; how my time with them affects me, how they love, and other random thoughts. I have always known that I want to have my own someday, and raising a family is one of my dreams, but this past weekend put that dream closer to reality. I was on a team staying the night at an orphanage for kids who have been abandoned which also served as a refuge for mothers who have been abandoned which was a good hour drive outside of Monrovia, Liberia. There were around 15 kids that lived there ranging from infants to 12 years old, around 5 severely, mentally handicapped and there was one mother with triplets who had been abandoned.

It was a crazy place that, to be honest, I was not quite ready for it, mentally. As we arrived, the kids were shy and were made to sing us a welcome song. The place we were to spend the next 48 hours in was nicer than I thought it would be, at first. As you got to know it, it became less enamoring, but the hearts that the place housed became all the more wonderful. It was a simple building painted something like a school out of the 80’s or early 90’s with the bland yellow color and an ugly maroon shade occupying the walls. There was a TV there which was used every night when the generator was turned on, around 7 or 8 pm. One experience was the Liberian movies, which were like a bad High School drama production. We brought along a Veggie Tales movie to play for the kids, but I am not sure that they quite understood it fully, as a lot of the humor is very American. They liked watching it because they could tell it was well done though. The first night was occupied with dinner and getting to know the kids a little bit and a movie.

The next day was Sunday, and we had prepared a program for the kids for some point in that day. After a hot, restless night, I woke up to babies crying, which I would find out consistent ambience all throughout our two days at the place. As the day progressed and we played with the children, the Sunday “service” was called. We did our thing, or parts of it, and finished. The day continued and, as the team ran out of energy, the playing fizzled into naps and reading with the kids. That night, we got the front seat to another African movie, which was awful. Then we went to sleep, or at least I tried to.

The second night was worse than the first as it was just as hot, and I was too tired to sleep well. The bed I was on (we were very blessed to even have beds) gave me the impression that I was being invaded by a legion of bugs that wanted my flesh. I couldn’t sleep. The next morning I was grumpy, but the kids were not. They wanted to play, which is about all I could squeeze out of my energy.

Details aside, the trip was awesome, and the most touching parts were the attachment built by the kids to us, and to see how they appreciated us giving them attention. To see at least some of their needs met, not only by the things passed out, but also by the attention we gave them; especially the two of us men. God used us even though we were broke, even though we ran out of energy half way through and could no longer play with them that much.

As we prepared to leave, all the kids started to cry, which cut to my heart. I was too tired to cry, but my heart went out to those which I had developed a strong bond with. They were beautiful.

Paralyzed: Update On August 11, 2010

We are now in Liberia!

It was my birthday yesterday, and what a unique birthday it was! After some down time in the morning, I was to go to a home for disabled people, most of whom are suffering from Polio. We were told that the home was composed mostly of children, so we prepared a simple program for the kids the day before.

The five of us headed out to the road to try and get a taxi after receiving somewhat vague directions. We could not get a taxi to pick us up so our group split into two, and the first group of two got picked up quickly, while the group of three that I was in had to watch as yellow Toyota after yellow Toyota passed us. We were once picked up but told that the fee was more than we were told to pay and had to leave. After about 45 minutes, some locals came and helped us flag down a car who let us pay the right fee only because we were Christians. Thank God for that.

When we arrived, we were shocked: there was one child in the home. The home was holding a service with us as the guests of honor; the pastors. So we prayed and then entered the home as the residents were singing worship songs Africa style, not quite knowing what we were going to do exactly. We did our program-minus a few silly songs-and the people seemed to like it plenty, but what happened after was the memorable part for me.

We split into groups to have prayer time. In my group was one of the leaders of the home, who asked me to explain the Ship more, so I told her that the true goal is to love people no matter what their circumstances. So I asked them how I could love and pray for them. They went around in the circle and gave me points of prayer including peace, joy, staying out of trouble, long life, and steadfastness (I had to bite my tongue every time I heard them ask for “prosperity”). I prayed for the points I remembered, but I felt a strange feeling of unworthiness deep down. I don’t know why, but I felt like they had more to offer than I did, even though many were in wheelchairs.

I am not worthy to be God’s servant, but here I am, praying for handicapped people in Africa, telling them about a love I have yet to fully understand. In my opinion I should have never been allowed to come here, due to a hard heart and an almost nonexistent faith.

I guess it is good that God’s opinion is not mine.

Words cannot describe what was running through my heart at a school in a lonely town in Takoradi, Ghana a few hours ago. I was on a team of around 8 that were to go to a school for special needs children. I won’t lie, I have been struggling mightily as of late with a lot of issues, mainly of my own heart, and I wasn’t really ready to go to this special education school, but it was certainly ready for us. When we pulled in to the compound, one of the kids was running with the bus screaming in excitement. As we walked out a few of the brave souls came to shake our hands and try to get the football (soccer ball) we had. The sheer delight of seeing new faces that were coming for them was exhilarating, and it broke my heart then as it does as I recollect our story. I held back the tears of sorrow and pity because I wanted them to know that I felt no better than them.

So we did our program for the kids, and they ate it up. I honestly don’t know how well they understood the symbolism of the play, or the literal lyrics of the songs we sang, or if they’ll ever be able to read the booklet we handed out, but I can truly say that they loved us. Maybe it was because of how we made them feel, or maybe it is because the world is innocent to their eyes, but I’ll get to the philosophic part later. After the program, we just spent time with these kids, these people. They were severely special needs, and I usually don’t know how to act around them, until I realized a beautiful truth about their simplicity: they love whether or not you are cool, regardless of what you look like, and in spite of how selfish you can be. So I spent my time hugging them (my way of showing love), playing soccer, and dancing with the kids. As we started to leave, the tears of shame and pity again welled up in my heart as it was broken again, but not just because they have been dealt an unfair hand in life, but because these people that are made fun of and ridiculed have so much more love in their heart than I can dream of, especially lately.

I don’t think I could ever explain to them that I do care for them, not because I have to, but because they are so beautiful. I have never seen real love so genuine and quick, yet real. It is a shame that people prey on their mental inadequacy and miss out on the lesson to be learned from these people. They don’t know a thing about you, but if you make yourself available, many will love you. Love is tossed around in a lot of shallow and humiliating ways today, but I feel like these people, who survive on mere instinct, know what it actually is. They don’t have to understand the why of things as many of us do, they don’t have to know motivation; no, they just need to know you are there. Indeed, the discarded people of this world understand a piece of the meaning of joy, and the basic fundamental that our salvation has been built on. These lovely people taught me more by existing than they ever could have if they could quote any book. Love is so simple, yet so hard for us to do, but not for them.

Tunnel Vision

Two years is a long time from many life perspectives. I have now been away from a life at home for one month short of two years. The same paradox that is involved with time often is in play here; it feels like I have been away for ages upon ages, yet it feels to have gone by so fast that I can barely keep up with the memories. My years on board have been a huge blessing to my spiritual life-maybe even the birth of a deep relationship with my creator-but I have been known to possess a very bad case of tunnel vision throughout my life. In High School, my senior year was a year of academic apathy and discord. The last months of that year (in which I had only 5 classes, 3 being gym related classes) were full of figuring out ways of not getting in trouble and being with my friends: I barely picked up a book that whole year.

Now, 5 years after graduating High School, the same feeling of readiness, even eagerness and need, for change occupy a large part of my living consciousness. As I have said before, the Ship has helped save me from a live of potential immorality, and I feel I owe a huge debt to it for that, but I am ready to finish. The ministry here is certainly unique, and I fear I don’t exactly fit the mold of what they want, nor am I willing to conform into anything but what I am. The ship is amazing in the fact that it can isolate people by bringing them on board something very few get a chance to experience, into a seriously Christian environment. People on board take Christ seriously-although the weakness can be glaring at times, especially in my own life- and many people don’t get to see any form of truly authentic relationship with Christ. When one comes here, they have a good chance of being engaged by an evangelist, of which is almost never me. That is where I don’t generally fit in well, not only because I lack the social confidence that many here display, but also because I refuse to accept that the gospel can be displayed fully through sales pitches, phrases, catchy tracts, or anything of that sort of matter; it needs a relationship to be completely relevant. This is said not in an offensive stance toward evangelical tactics and practices, but as a cause for reflection. Sometimes, evangelism can be shallow and not actually loving (often the “brimstone and fire” approach stirs these feelings most), but as Paul said, it only matters that the gospel is preached, even when selfish intentions are used, as long as it is true. I fail to let myself be vulnerable, and have respect for those who can initiate relationship quickly, as I tend to take time to let my heart be opened (ask Tawny).

The conclusion I aim for is to convey that I am ready to leave the place I have called home the past two years: I am ready for what is next. The reasons for this can be simplified by saying that I am not a people-person in a place that is full of people. Everywhere you go, anything you do, you can’t get away from people for long. This state of affair is severely draining on my mental life. In fact, I feel like I would like to be alone for a while year, even though I know I would eventually get lonely; well, maybe. Apart from that, I have a relatively clear idea of where I would like go to, which involves attempting to write, learning to draw, getting a job, and heading to Nepal in September 2011. That is what I would like, but where God will send me I have no idea, which I am perfectly fine with. Please pray for strength to endure this mentally trying time, and to learn whatever lesson God is presenting me with.

Love Stretches Hands From Shore to Shore: Update on June 25, 2010

Africa is amazing. I have experienced Africa first-hand, residing among the culture for a week. We arrived in Sierra Leone a day before I was meant to go on a challenge team. I was excited for the team since it was my first real chance to get out for an extended time to live in the culture we were docked in. My excitement was not for naught, as the 5 days spent in Hastings, Sierra Leone have been some of my best days in the past two years.

The team was made up of 8 people from the Ship and a leader who regularly comes to lead ship training (such as PST and BST). We were sent to work on building a school in a predominately Muslim area (we were told there were no Christian schools in the area, but we found a rather large one). When we arrived after a day of preparation, the foundation was already poured, even though by western standards it was rather questionable. When we arrived and unloaded our things, we started to carry the blocks that needed to be laid for the foundation. The hired workers (there were 13 the first day) let us do some masonry, but for the most part we just carried things. I am used to this, of course, and enjoyed it. The next four days were spent filling the foundation in with dirt, and expecting things to show up that never did, such as wood, more soil, work, and workers, but God did a wonderful thing to the whole team.

In Africa, a work project is rarely done alone, especially when it involves white people. The place we were staying and building was kind of a day home for many kids that don’t often feel loved, and the kids latched onto us. The first day, a whole band of them appeared to help with the work and to touch and hang on the white folk. The band was mostly male, and consisted of around 10-15 kids. All of them were beautiful. They made the week amazing, with their unhindered love, unashamed antics, and trusting hearts. Throughout the week, they would come and say, in Creole, “Jim Me”, which was to throw them. Once one was thrown, all of them wanted to be thrown. If I had the energy I would do that, but when I didn’t, they were content to karate fight, chase me, check out our belly buttons, or just hug. They would climb on us while we were training with our leader, and try to help us work. They were beautiful.

The workers and family we stayed with were also a huge blessing. A lot of the guys on the team made friends with some of the workers, myself included, and fearlessly told them why we do what we do, and who leads us. A bunch of the guys got Bibles from us, and we prayed with some. We told stories of our lives, and heard some insane stories from theirs. The pastor (Immanuel) shared his story of his escape from a village that practiced child sacrifice into a deadly sickness that nearly killed him multiple times into a salvation that has brought about health. The pastor’s wife and family cooked and served us like kings, feeding us interesting food consisting mostly of fish. It was awesome. We also experienced a cultic burial from afar in which the head of the deceased is severed and saved to be put on the son’s body. The participants wore full red robes, or full white robes, as a few danced in tribal African fashion, wearing strange things. It was strange. The spirit world is still very respected and feared in this part of the world, away from technology and the things that take our fears away. They live face to face with the spiritual every day, while we make it spooky and intriguing; they battle the forces of Satan face to face as we stand under the coup of materialism. The world is a big place. T

The best part of the whole experience was that of relationship. As I stood outside watching lightning strike around us in a drizzle, holding Hassan (one of the boys), I told him in English “Never forget that Jesus loves you dearly.” He didn’t understand, but I pray his heart felt my heart, and that my heart displayed nothing but Christ. Relationships were built on a deep level in just a week, not only with those we worked with and for, but also with each other. I think Missions is something I would like to do in the future, and I know that God can even use me.

Awake, O Heart, Repine No More!: Update on June 13, 2010

We near Africa; the newest chapter of my life is beginning. My second sail across the Atlantic has been nice but has fallen short of the expectations laid by the last sail. I have had some rest, and some time to recharge, had time to spend with friends, time to watch movies, but most importantly, time with God. We stopped to bunker fuel on the farthest reaches of Africa, called Cape Verde, which is a country of small islands that used to belong to Portugal. I was able to go off the Ship for the first time in ten days and go swimming and enjoy the island cuisine for lunch. The Island itself was something like Europe mixed with North Africa, and the people were the same. It was the first place I have been in ages in which English is not widely known or recognized, maybe even since Europe. It was a good day, spending time with friends away from our Ship for a short break, and it was likely the last day I will ever spend in the Deck department again (I have been working with them while sailing). But the next day’s events swallowed up the fun.
The next day (Friday) was our prayer day, and I had decided to have a date with my Savior. I woke up at sunrise (after only 4 hours of sleep) to try and start off right, as a time of rejoicing and thanking God for the things he has given me. This is what I wrote, and part of what I prayed, at that time:
Each new day is a tapestry of grace
Of how you snatched me from the fire
Of how I can never soil your love for me
Every passing breath is a testimony of love
A righteous God loving an unrighteous person
Imperfection being made beautiful
Every mistake is a reason to flee to you
Yet I find myself leading myself
And you still have love for me
I don’t understand your insurmountable grace
When I hear your voice, see your face
I’m surprised at what I behold
From one so perfect, so absolutely holy,
There should be wrath, or sheer justice
But I feel no oppression of fate
Only a freedom I don’t deserve
A freedom full of a passionate love
A passion I shall never grasp
A heart my heart shall never get
Why are You so good to me, oh Lord?!
Yet I take your goodness and throw it away
Abusing something so utterly ridiculous
Turning a glorious sunset into a deep night
But every time, in the end, You draw forth a glorious light
And:
A brush stroke on a blue-gray sky
A slow turning of tides
Lighter blue and lighter still
Every minute the lighter it gets
Waiting to burst forth in beautiful hue
Impending glory awaits your call
For you control the beautiful things of this world
Yet we live free to choose our path
How can you put up with us?
Our sins multiply our stench and filth
Yet your heart aches at the falling of one
A pain I could never possibly know
Your hand creates things for a fallen race
Who give no thanks; no appreciation
So Lord, take my small measure of thanks
And multiply it into billions
Take my broken soul and body
And use them for your glory
I squander the resource of love
And make myself a fool
I need You so much
Come and fill me up
Come and fill my cup
Then I went back to sleep.
When I awoke, I went back to the top of the ship to find a place to be with God alone, and found my spot for the day. There on the ledge, after getting the sleep out of me, I started to repent. I started with the small things, then kept finding things that I screw up with; not living up to my calling, not loving everyone, being afraid of rejection, not rebuking those who are clearly outside of scripture, want, discontent, masks, a past of mistakes, and most of all, apathy. I repented for hours, weeping for the first time in a long time. Crying out to God for forgiveness and for change, reaching inside myself to draw up dormant things most wouldn’t consider sin, finding things that hinder me so much, things that block my relationship with God (I consider those sins just as deadly, if not more lethal, than the major vices). As I listened to Derek Webb’s song “We come to you”, which is mostly instrumental, I came to God’s feet, asking for love, and love I received. I don’t know if you have felt the freedom and peace after a time of true repentance, but it is a feeling unlike any other I have experienced, and I recommend trying it. This is what welled up in my heart at that time:
Father,
You have convicted me of my sins
They multiply with each step I take
Forgive me of my misuse of love
Turning something so beautiful and free
Into something to be earned
Forgive me of my pride
Making a false sense of humility to
Cover the tracks of an obstinate heart
To veil the pain held in my mind
The pain of loving myself more
More than anyone I met
More than You…
Father, I am so sinful, so wrong
Forgive me; deliver me, Oh Lord!
Tears fall upon cold steel
As grace falls upon a cold heart
I need your grace, your precious grace
I need your presence, yet I’ve denied it
For so long using my own strength
To lift rocks while I should be moving mountains
Forgive me for doubting everything
I fall victim to the mentality of our age
“Man over God; Do it yourself
Live for you; Follow your heart!”
How self-centered is my thinking!
Father, forgive me. I need You.
I need you presence to sustain
All you have given me
I need your power to change
All darkness living in me
I need your heart to love
Those I don’t even like
I need you grace to soar above
The mistakes I put in my path
But most of all, I need you.
I also wrote this:
A desolate desert full of sand
A drop of water
Redemption has found me once again
How refreshing it is!
You found me in my most vulnerable hour
Turned me upside down
Emptied the pockets of my heart
Of the sin within
Oh! How beautiful the rising sun
Over this dreary heart!
Oh! How glorious your peace!
Bringing a smile to my face
Bringing solace to my troubled heart
In broken places
You are the fix
You are my cure, my remedy
How beautiful is the chorus!
How wonderful a sound
That sings of my forgiveness!
After this, I decided to go and pray for Africa (what we were doing that day) in the lower decks. I never understood how many countries have problems with stealing humans to use in everything from children soldiers to sexual exploits to slaves. People have little value in this place I am going, and I never understood what that means. It is so sad that we live so individually free, and they are oppressed by such things as war and slavery. We sit on our buts watching TV, thinking money is the answer, when they need so much more. They need love, they need peace, and they need education. Money will not solve much in the end as it is such an exhaustible resource. How little I can do, but how much God can do struck a chord in my mind, and as I prayed for these countries and the continent, I prayed with true words, but also with some form of determination to love people here, as my main objective. After this, I took a nap.
When I woke, I set out to have a final scheduled prayer time with God; a time of letting go. After finishing praying for my loved ones, I took to it to write again. This time I wrote my worries on a sheet of paper. I wrote my fears about my future and my fears of present. I wrote the situations close to my heart that take some of my mental health. I talked to God explaining what it was that I was worried about, and apologized for my unbelief. I looked at my list, 4 pages long, and realized that I worry way too much. I prayed for release from the worry, release from fear. I tore my papers up and cast them into the wind (which led the scraps onto the very deck I was, alas!). I felt somewhat at ease, and continued to read as the finished its course around my world. Here is what I wrote after the release (attempted, maybe) of my worry:
The fact of the matter is
Everywhere I’ve been
And everything I’ve done
You’ve held the reins
My future sits in front
A blurry blue-gray cloud
Waiting to be lit
By a liberating sun
So I cast my cares
Unto the corners of the earth
Take heart!
Fill up!
For you are my redeemed
Oh my soul, rejoice!
For you are FREE
Free to use your voice
Free to run
Free to cry
For your hand is held
All fear is being felled
After reading, I went to a prayer event with the ship, and had my first real human interaction of the day around 7:15 (which is awesome!). We prayed for various departments and for us and for Africa, after worshiping. What a day, a rare treat, praise the Lord.

You Are So Good To Me: End of the Caribbean Update on June 1st, 2010

My friends, we draw from an infinitely deep well. As the time in the Caribbean on board the Logos Hope draws to an end, a new chapter is being readied. I am currently sailing across the Atlantic for the second time, which means I have a lot of time to reflect, and hopefully to rest. I will not lie; I have been exhausted, and have been having a hard time on board. I am ready to come home, but there are suspicions that God is not done molding me yet. So here I am, struggling to make it three more months until the next step, and looking back, unable to ignore the beauty of my past 10 months in the Caribbean. It has been a hard ten months, getting used to a culture so different than mine, but I suspect I have grown. God has been in work at me in discontent with my spiritual life, but finding a solution has proven evasive.
The Caribbean is a nice place, with billions of kids. The islands bear a lot of resemblance to each other with a few exceptions, but they are all naturally beautiful, with beaches and mountains and rainforests. Dominica probably dominated the area of natural beauty of all the Islands, as I had a chance to get out two weeks in a row on hikes to see waterfalls and large hills, absolutely amazing. The people are also as varying as the islands; they are quite similar. They talk the same (until you’ve been here for long), eat the same, and live similar. I must admit that the people were my biggest challenge (apart from the richer islands of Bermuda, Aruba, and the Bahamas) since they were quite overbearing and rude. It was hard for me, at times, to see the beauty of them in that they are quite patient (compared to us), caring, and blunt. I realized my need to be blunt working in the café and selling things, thus affecting my general demeanor.
From St. Vincent’s to Dominica, my journey has been a wild one, including a job change, a trip home, many frustrations, and popcorn. From playing basketball in a youth prison to a recent chance to go to another place where kids live away from their parents, I have hopefully been different from people’s expectations, and hopefully been a light. From David in St. Lucia, to Andry in Aruba, I now know a few people I try to keep in some touch with that I would never had met except for the Lord. Pray that I can shine so bright to these two! From the streets of Jamaica that now house so much violence (I know the place) to the beauty in Dominica the Lord has shown himself by his creation, but I didn’t need to come here to see it, maybe just to realize that everyone of us is gorgeous. There is a song by a band named Water deep called “Everyone’s Beautiful”, and it captures how we should feel, how I should feel. Christ’s calling wasn’t one of loving those who are easy to love, or loving those who love you, or helping people per say. No, our calling is much higher. We are called to love everyone, pray for our enemies, no matter how hard it is. It is easy to love those who make you feel good, but loving the murderers, the rapists, the kidnappers, the Muslims, the Hindus, the Mormons, our family, those who curse us, those who don’t think about us, and we even have to love ourselves. Our calling is far higher than I had beforehand realized, and it would be overwhelming, but I know the love we receive is far greater than the love we could ever give. Thank you God for sending me to the Caribbean, and I pray that you grew me in a specific way, and forgive my stubborn and obstinate heart. Thank you supporters for enabling me to see the world, and myself, in a whole new way, one I hope will teach me many things. Now on to Africa…

Perseverance: Update on March 21st, 2010

The ship currently is sitting in the last port of the Caribbean tour we have been in for 10 months, and we are getting ready to sail across the Atlantic yet again (my second time) to West Africa. The Caribbean has been quite hard and trying, and much different than anything I have seen. I will not lie, the last few weeks have been a tremendous challenge for me for a few different reasons, and the Sabbath days we are having (today is the last one) have helped a lot. The port we are in is an amazing place to take a break, with the town a 20 minute walk, and nature surrounding. We are in Rousseau, Dominica, and I have done a lot more here than in the past two ports in terms of getting out. I have forded a river for a few hours, participated in a scavenger hunt, and played in a soccer tournament. The sessions we have had were a blessing. They were about our “nets”, which is symbolic for our ministry, and how they catch and tear, and need mending. I was very encouraged to love those around me no matter how much I don’t want to, and to focus on God more than myself when it comes to ministry.
I had been struggling with something that I have struggled with a lot in my short life; complacency. I get tired of routine, and have a deep need for change often. I don’t like to feel like I am not growing, or moving forward, or wasting time. Life is precious, and time is life, thus feeling like I am wasting time is detrimental to my attitude. I wanted to come home early to try and work on my next steps, and be with my family. I have been taught a difficult lesson the past few days, and been made to realize I lack a key thing I need; perseverance. I have never been good at persevering in my life, and have somewhat of a quitter’s mentality. Maybe it is my stubborn mind, but it has been hard to stay on board the past weeks, and I think God made it perfectly clear that this is the adversity I need to deal with, more than outside persecution; I need to win in the field of my mind. I need to choose to move on, even when I don’t want to be here. I need prayer, and am so weak, but I will finish.

What Could Be Next: Update on May 7, 2010

My sister’s lone comment on my last blog made me realize that I haven’t explained my situation very well and, through writing, maybe I can think it through properly, and logically. I am currently three ports away from departing to West Africa, which is at the end of the month. This means I will cross the Atlantic for the second time, and visit my fourth continent since coming here 20 months ago. We are currently in Antigua, and it is very busy on board. The crowds downstairs remind me a bit of Jamaica, and the island itself is a lot like most Caribbean Islands. I had the chance to play basketball today against a team who beat us really bad, but that is ok. I still had the chance to give out bibles (disguised as sports magazines) to a bunch of people, and we all know God certainly can use that.

I have four months left here before I come back to Michigan and have to choose a path. One path I could pursue would be to try and get a literary agent to get my material out there, after I write it, while working a normal job. Another path I have pondered is that of education in the name of English, Literature, and/or Creative Writing. I don’t really want to go to school, but it may be a necessary evil in the overeducated, competative world of literature. I would really love to attend a University in Edinburgh, Scotland for a year or so though, which I would do joyfully. The last route, and most intriguing, route is that of continued missions. I would like to go to Nepal for a year to do a trekking ministry, and also write about the stories I see with my group. The need is there, and my desire is too, but things need to fall into place. There is still no girl in the equation, which could affect the decision, and I will enjoy my freedom until God places my other half in my life (and hopefully after).

I am excited to come home and start the next adventure, but the friends I have made will be dearly missed. The next path is a slightly less blurred one than it was 20 months ago, and I thank God for that, so now I have to take the right steps, and most importantly, keep growing. Thanks to all of you who support me in this mission; I honestly don’t know where I’d be if I had not come here. I may be in some career I don’t want to be in, or jail, or stuck in the party routine of debauchery; I don’t know, but thanks for helping enable me to see God in His glory, and to come near to him in my time of deepest need.

Wisdom: Update On April 26th, 2010

We leave Bermuda in 2 hours and sail to Antigua. I love sailing, it always provides time alone and time to rest. Not that I need much rest after Bermuda, since it was ridiculously slow, but I always appreciate rest. During the sail I will work in two different departments, the galley and as an Angel. Angels clean the whole ship, so we’ll see how I do waking up at 6 a.m. and all. Bermuda was nice; I took the last break of my time on the ship, which was a whole lot of nothing, honestly. I got to be with friends, which is always a blessing. The rest of Bermuda was nice, and the people are pretty nice. There is a strong Christian fellowship here, and the guys involved are amazing guys. I spent a few hours with some guys who go to prison nearly every day because a pipe was broke and we couldn’t meet with the prisoners. There is something about older Christian guys that makes me enjoy being around them, something about the wisdom that comes with mistakes, and the joy that comes through pain and perseverance that makes me want to learn from them. I think with guys like these the biggest thing that these guys possess, often, is true humility. I heard a quote once that was something like “The humble man only hears he is humble, but never believes it”. Humility is a life-long struggle for mankind, one that is a dangerous path, due to false humility tearing apart our true hearts and rooting all we do in pride. I am realizing how prideful I truly am with every new day that offers it’s challenges. I am in deep with pride, and am struggling to rid myself of it, which, I think, is what Christ talked about when he said “…and anyone who does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me”. Pride is a root of evil, maybe the root of evil even.

A Beast: Update on April 17th, 2009

I sit looking over a sea as blue as the sky, which trees rustling with the wind, and big houses decorating the uneven land. Currently, I am on my last break of the time spent with the ship in Bermuda. It is beautiful here, there is little doubt about that. The city of Hamilton, where the Ship is staying, is a monument to the god of wealth. The buildings are a nice site to behold, but it certainly feels like something is missing. The people are friendly and will talk to you and help you, but it feels superficial. This is Bermuda; this is the world in a nutshell; this is the trap of discontentment.
As I said, the place is beautiful, and I am more than blessed to be able to take a break here, but there is something not quite right. Not in the buildings, not in the people even, but in the culture. The people here have anything they can desire, yet it is never enough. It is not just here, but everywhere. We are all victims of the consumer age, yet we all play along so often. I cath myself thinking about the next thing to occupy my time; the next new pleasure. I find myself wanting more and more, never feeling completey satisfied with the new thing. My heart has been weighed, and been found wanting.
So here I sit, looking upon a glory man could never surpass with her will and power, wondering why I want more. Here I sit amongst people who love and care about me on a trip I could never have provided for myself, thinking about the next thing to keep mme happy. Here I sit hating the beast living inside of me, yet not knowing how to kill it. The beast lives everywhere, attacking our impulses and insecurities to drives us into want. The beast breahthes it's flames, searing the contentment we can experience with our Saviour. The beast must be slayed. Jesus is all I need, there are no if's, and's, or but's to that, and I pray He makes that all the more obvious as I grow older and see more.

A Beast: Update on April 17th, 2009

I sit looking over a sea as blue as the sky, which trees rustling with the wind, and big houses decorating the uneven land. Currently, I am on my last break of the time spent with the ship in Bermuda. It is beautiful here, there is little doubt about that. The city of Hamilton, where the Ship is staying, is a monument to the god of wealth. The buildings are a nice site to behold, but it certainly feels like something is missing. The people are friendly and will talk to you and help you, but it feels superficial. This is Bermuda; this is the world in a nutshell; this is the trap of discontentment.
As I said, the place is beautiful, and I am more than blessed to be able to take a break here, but there is something not quite right. Not in the buildings, not in the people even, but in the culture. The people here have anything they can desire, yet it is never enough. It is not just here, but everywhere. We are all victims of the consumer age, yet we all play along so often. I cath myself thinking about the next thing to occupy my time; the next new pleasure. I find myself wanting more and more, never feeling completey satisfied with the new thing. My heart has been weighed, and been found wanting.
So here I sit, looking upon a glory man could never surpass with her will and power, wondering why I want more. Here I sit amongst people who love and care about me on a trip I could never have provided for myself, thinking about the next thing to keep mme happy. Here I sit hating the beast living inside of me, yet not knowing how to kill it. The beast lives everywhere, attacking our impulses and insecurities to drives us into want. The beast breahthes it's flames, searing the contentment we can experience with our Saviour. The beast must be slayed. Jesus is all I need, there are no if's, and's, or but's to that, and I pray He makes that all the more obvious as I grow older and see more.

Pain and A Challenge: Update on April 6, 2010

The Bahamas is full of tourism; in fact, ther is no national export, they only provide entertainment for people with the money to come. There is wealth galore within the first roads, starting at the beach, and there are people throwing around money. One can stay in a local hotel called the Atlantis (where Oprah stays) for up to $30,000 a night, and many people stay here. The ferry to an island across the sound is around $25 and thousands of people make the trip. Somebody is selling something at any time of the day, from conch shells to marijuana, you can find anything here. It is much like the US in that regard and in many other regards, such as their sports. I had the chance to go and play football with a local group of guys the past two Saturdays, and it has been a blast. I reminded me of being home on a perfect summer night.

Another thing that makes me think of home is on a quite different level. There are hundereds of kids in this town alone that are left on their own, by either irresponsible parenting or state mandates, much like home. In a small town maybe the size of Port Huron, there are a huge number of orphanages, abandoned kid's homes, and other child serivce providers. They are trying to help these kids, which is a good start.

The fact is that the main thing these kids want is attention and to be accepted by someone, anyone. I had the opportunity to go and present Christ to these kids, while trying to show them the love that he would have given them. I went to a hostile today where kids of any age come when social services so decides, and the kids were awesome. We did a program that presented the gospel clearer than we would be able to in America, and I can only pray that I loved them the way Jesus would have. I went to a place where kids are brought by parents who don't want them any more, and it nearly brings tears to my eyes trying to imagine the pain of that. We also did a short program and played with them as well. They really just want someone to listen, to touch, to hold them, and to know that they have worth. The teachers at the institution were all seemingly unhappy with their job which translates into them not treating the kids with love. This world is so messed up that these precious kids grow up thinking that they won't be loved. The fact is that sexs' allure will draw many who aren't ready for parenthood, which in turn means many kids will feel unloved, even at home.

So my challenge is this: show someone that life is beautiful. Step up (much like I need to do) to helping a kid on his way into a relationship with the One who will love him unconditionally, while you go out and love them too. these kids are precious to the Father, so shall we belittle their worth by being too busy to go out and care for them? I hope not, and I pray that even after the ship I can continue loving the kid's who feel meaningless.

The Hand Painting the Picture: Update on March 27th, 2010

Sometimes my eyes are opened to what surrounds me
Sometimes I realize a dense presence overtaking
Not a lonely, dark presence but a mysterious peace
Sometimes, rarely, can I even respond to the painting
She convicts me of my apathy towards what I see
She charges me guilty of not loving my neighbor
And of believing that things far too complex to know
Are nothing but simple figures and numbers
But as the chilling air tingles down through my spine
Reaching the inmost parts of my darkened soul
It’s times like these that one feels more than sees
And at such a rare time one can see more than canvas
One can sense that what’s before him is more than a fixture
In times like these one sees the hand painting the picture.

That poem sums up the past four days of my life. We are now in the Bahamas, and it is something totally different than Jamaica. The place we are berthed is a harbor which can hold up to 14 different cruise ships, and is the port of registry of the largest cruise ship in the world, The Oasis of the Seas (I think). We saw that ship yesterday, and it was pretty ridiculous; the money we throw around for leisure is insane! Anyways this is a welcome change of pace, since we had over 130,000 people on board last port, including two days of over 7,000 people, and sold some 80,000 popcorns, and 50,000 ice creams, it was super busy. This port will be slow, and give time to think and rest a bit, while also presenting an opportunity to the emboldened ones of us to try and talk with whoever comes. Many people that come may be from the USA due to the time of year (spring break). I hope to be emboldened and to share my faith fearlessly.

Before the arrival, we sailed. For three days after leaving Jamaica, which was absolutely amazing. I made sure to take time to talk with God, which is always a rewarding choice. I spent much of those three days alone, and a good amount of time in prayer. I saw God’s hand on the vastness of the sea, which teems with life. This brought thoughts of humanity in my head, and how blessed we are to be created in his image, and how complicated the human body is. Things around us often seems simple, say a plant taking in sunlight for growth or walking, when in actuality they are immensely complex. I still don’t quite understand why the earth feels flat or how plants use sunlight to grow with water, or how a baby is formed in a womb. We know the science behind it, but it is hard to think of such enigmas as random. Anyways, the last night of sailing was our prayer night, which was a good one where we spent time worshiping as the sun went down. It is still crazy how 400 people from every background imaginable coerce to create a community of peace. It is only because we all fly His banner that this can happen, and I thank God I get to be a part of it, even if it is a mere breath.

The end of Jamaica was absolutely crazy. There were school kids piled upon school kids, and all of them ordered popcorn. We had 7,100 people on our last Saturday and 7,200 on the last Sunday. Those were Logos Hope records, and everyone wanted popcorn. My job was a bit hectic and frustrating, but the Lord guided me through well. I even had a chance to go back to the Trenchtown reading center I had mentioned in a prior post and see a lot of those kids again. Although it was more of the same, it still felt new. The kids remembered me, and I played with them and had a blast doing it. I only hoped they felt loved.

Still Jamaica… Update on March 13, 2010

We have had one billion school kids come on board the ship in the past week. All of them have been saved from their sins and converted. Not really, but that’d be cool, huh. The truth is that working in the I-Café now means I do see loads of schools come and go and buy things every week day. The teachers and schools here are very different from ours. The teachers are very rude, and can still hit their kids. The kids can be anywhere from crazy, loud, and extremely rude to quiet and nice while ordering. The difference seems to depend largely on which school they are from. It makes me wonder what it would be like to have all the Port Huron or Detroit schools come on board, and how I’d feel about those kids. The kids here are hard to handle, and it is apparent they are short on love. I wish I could say I love them when they yell out of turn in the line trying to order, or when they try to cut everyone then give a nasty look when you tell them off, but I have failed many times to see the kingdom of heaven in these kids. It’s a shame that I don’t have time to love them all, if any, but that is the reality.
I went on a church team last Sunday to a church about an hour away in a town called Spanish Town. I gave my testimony (seems to be recurrent theme from me, eh?) at the early service, which started at 8, which meant we left at 6:50 or so. The church was full of people, even though it only seated around 50 or so, it was full regardless. Our group of five sat up on the stage with the band and pastors the whole time, which was a bit awkward, but alright in the end. The service was loud, as usual, and the actual music during worship was almost inaudible behind screams and general noise. That may have been due to the fact that there were tambourines for the congregation to use, and two ladies went nuts on them. The service was enjoyable, as our group presented a French version of Amazing Grace, a one man drama about total commitment to God, my testimony, and some book offers, after which they prayed for us.
After the service and a Sunday school, they proceeded to feed us rich in local delicacies which included this vegetable that is almost exactly like an egg in all aspects, some awesome fish, and some roll type deals that were delicious. We even tried some Jamaican Apple Juice, which is basically spicy apple juice. The first drinks were rough, but it got better the more you drink it. Apparently, they put ginger in almost everything they make. During lunch, they proceeded to probe us about life on board and where we come from. The pastor was an amazing people person, even though age seemed to hit him rather hard, and it was a joy to talk to him. Another guy that stuck around the whole time was “not fully committed, but was on the way”, which was left open for interpretation on our part. At the end of the meal the pastor asked us to pray for his church and for this man who has yet to commit. We did, and then he drove us home.
The rest of my week has been filled with school kids and ultimate Frisbee, which has been good. I even played soccer again, and had a little bit of fun. As it is almost baseball season, and a new sense of longing for home has hit along with a deeper desire to see my family, since a little more of life is becoming unraveled this Wednesday. All I can do is pray.

A Child’s Heart: Update on March 4, 2010

Jamaica has been a tough place on my psyche for some odd reason. I have felt a bit frustrated, mainly in Montego Bay, at the people. I switched out of deck into the I-café last week, and it has been a relaxing change, and a welcome one. The only problem is the manner in which people in Jamaica buy things. It seems to me that they feel it is something like a market, and all of them crowd around saying what they want. Usually the Good Lord gives me the strength to have patience in those times, and sometimes even laugh at the difference. I haven’t cracked yet, and have chosen to not be stressed by this. On top of all of those times we shifted and got jerked around in Montego Bay, I have had a relatively negative view of Jamaica.

Well, lately I have remembered one key principle from my travels and from the hand of God; people are people, everywhere. Although culture is a heavy influence at times, people are also victims of their past and this earth. People all have vices, all have love, and all are different, while being similar. God charges us to love people regardless of our preferences of those whom we understand. Christ charges the task of showing love in the face of evil, in hopes of them turning. Christ charges us to love like children even those who may harm us, because that is how he loved. He loved unhindered, and unbiased; true love. So few humans have given true love, while all of us have received, when we wake up, how ridiculous is grace?!

With that said, I had an amazing opportunity yesterday to go to a children’s reading center in one of the most troubled places in Kingston. The objective was vague as we were to go and just be with the kids. When we got there, we introduced ourselves (four of us) and one of the guys read David and Goliath from the bible, then the teachers told us to decide what to do next. When we mentioned soccer, all the kids went crazy (except a couple girls), so we went out to it. During the course of the game, new kids flooded the dirt field. The kids were in the ages from 3-14 and there were tons. All the really young kids hung around the goal posts chasing each other. Eventually I started playing with them as well as playing soccer. They would chase me around and I would throw them around. Eventually the older kids wanted to be thrown around, which I did because I’m a softy for kids. One kid told me “I wish you were my dad.” I didn’t really know how to respond. They loved me easily and unbridled. They trusted me with their lives to throw them. Even in the violent world they live in, these kids know how to love more than almost any adult could boast.

Good Things: Update on February 22, 2010

Tourists are pretty stupid sometimes. Since leaving Montego Bay (and all the shifting) behind, we came to Kingston last Tuesday, and into a whole new world. The day we got in, we had to go to one berth and unload containers of books and food, and then had to shift to our actual berth at night. The berth we are in is a cement factory, but apparently they run on coal. Everywhere is filthy black. The moment you go outside you are basically dirty. The first opening day in port was on Ash Wednesday, which is a national holiday, so we had over 5000 visitors. I went around and sold popsicles to those who waited (sometimes 2-3 hours!) just to get on the ship. This will be a crazy port.
Back to the beginning, and why I claim that tourist don’t think sometimes. As a deck team we had a day to just enjoy our department and go to a waterfall about 2 hours from Kingston. This was a tourist place, though, as one could easily scale the waterfall. The place was beautiful, as a fresh water river flowed coldly into a warm sea. You could tell they had modified the original fall as it was ascended, but it was still a blast. Us deckies (not having money) refused to buy a tour guide and the special shoes they sell you. That was one of the smartest things we’ve ever done! The tour guides would take the simplest way, making everyone file into a line, holding hands, and holler a lot. They were really annoying and a complete rip off. The rock was also very smooth, and those shoes were not needed as well. We probably saved $40 each by being cheap.
One of the coolest things I have done in my time here was this weekend. I was sent on a team that went to a village about 2 hours away by car, and in the middle of nowhere, Jamaica. We were to stay overnight in the local “gun club” (which was just a place for rich foreigners to come and shoot stuff 6 weekends a year). We were greeted with a dinner of shrimp backed in a seriously spicy fashion. It beat all of us down, but was so good! The woman responsible to look after us was named Cherry, and was an absolute delight. We spent our fist hours there playing with a few of the kids from the village, then planning for the next day.
The next day, we were charged with helping the church. We really had no idea of what was expected of us, but we prepared plenty of things to do. After a breakfast of freshly caught fish, we headed to church, and it was far from what we expected. There was a congregation of about 15 people, mostly old ladies and their grandchildren. Everyone in the church held a position of leadership, and the “president” was a 14 year old kid. The worship team consisted of 2 girls, and one guy on an old keyboard. The sound system was archaic, stone age even. I think I saw one like it in the movie “The Pirates of the Silicon Valley”. The band was pretty terrible, mainly because the female pastor would take over, and it seemed like she thought loud was better than good, or even decent. I think the whole village was awoken by her singing. The service was all strictly ordered, and they announced the order as they went along the whole time. From the outside, it must have looked very legalistic and shallow.
It’s a good thing God searches the heart, and can see past all these. It is a good thing that these people were more genuine than anyone I have met in the Caribbean. It’s a good thing that God came for the poor and broken as well as us who live in luxury. It’s a good thing that love and money are very often inversely proportional. It’s a good thing God sent me to this traditional, strange church, to show me more faults within me.
I can say that we were loved. After the service we hung out with Cherry and her family for about 6 more hours, playing cricket, eating lunch, and playing with a bunch of the kids. I can only hope that we blessed them as much as they blessed us, even though they did things very strange.

Dawn

Awake! O Heart, Arise!
I declare your slumber
Is cut short! Arise!
May Breath find its’ way
Into your hardened lungs
I command thee
Dust thou shall no more be

Beat with the fire
Of celestial passion
A flame not of
Terrestrial birth

I beseech thee, my son,
Take thine throne
Embrace the unknown
I declare it is time!
From your long slumber, Arise!

Arise to do precisely
What you were made to do
Do you see them, my son?
The shades,
The ghosts?
Pale, bitter, cold
Unmoving, and unceasing; no end
With no means to justify

Their existence is an insult
Do you see, my beloved?
See! I declare all shall see!
See their anguish, and approach
But not with craven fear
For fear is not in your function
Fear shall not hold you
Down into their sorrow depart
Deeper and deeper yet
All the way
To where they beget
The toil of endless pain
But you, my beautiful son,
Hold the key.

Awake! I declare, Arise!
For the time of slumber
Has burnt into embers!
You must behold Apollo’s light
You must do as I have made
The entire world is hinged upon it
It is not the strength of Atlas,
Nor the science behind the Axis
No, the bricks of this world,
And of glorious heav’n above,
Is naught but love!
Awake! My son, Arise!

Goodbye, Hello! An update on February 5th, 2010

Goodbye struck again as another close friend rode away in an airplane. Aaron joined with me a year and a half ago, and has now gone home to start on his college career. He left on the same day that about 20 others left. They left to make room for the new PST, which arrived on Wednesday. They arrived in the same exciting fashion that all PST’s arrive in. They were entered in the world of Ship’s life with a line of screaming crew members showing them which way to go. This is probably the last time I will bear witness to this exciting sight again, as my term ends before the next PST arrives in 6 months. My time has flown by!

My time in Montego Bay Jamaica has honestly been rather forgettable, except the groups of school kids I have witnessed coming to the ship that sometimes number up to 4000 in a day. I have not been involved much there, but the ship presents a program for the kids which has a clearly biblical calling to it. It is called “The Greatest Treasure” and it involves a drama about pirates, which I may still get involved in, some games and some more information about our ship. It must be an awesome field trip for these kids to go on, since I hear them yelling every so often while I try to sleep.

Sleeping has marked my time in Jamaica as well; and not necessarily by choice. We are in a port that harbors both cruise liners and cargo ships. On top of that, I am sure we received a discount on our berthing fees, which puts us on the bottom of the priority list. We have had to move berths almost every other day, and it has proved to be a lot of work. We can’t start until the ship is closed to public (around 10) and we finish up usually around 1 or 2 AM. The Deckies handle all the moving, and it has been a really taxing port on all of us.

On a good note, we met some local people that are a part of YWAM, and they invited us back “anytime” to go and play basketball with them, and on Sunday to watch the Super Bowl. I am very excited about that! I hope they are okay with me being really loud…

Goodbye Sucks: Update on December 22nd, 2010

I am officially in Jamaica, and have yet to find a bob sled track (or team) anywhere! Who would have thought?! So since I am in Jamaica, it means I am not in Aruba, which means I can reminisce of one of the nicest ports we had, and one of the tougher things one has to come to deal with on the Logos Hope. Aruba was absolutely gorgeous. It had some pretty nice stuff too, like Taco bell, Wendy’s Little Caesars, and Quiznos, as well as easily my favorite beach in the Caribbean yet (still not quite Lake Huron in early August). It had loads of night life, geared for the tourists that come with the 2-4 new cruise ships every day. We obviously avoided all of that, unless on the way to Taco Bell or Starbucks, where one may get solicited for drugs, and obviously decline. One of my good friends even told the drug dealers “it’s not good for you, man” when asked if we wanted some ecstasy (a first for me). My wallet took a bit of a hit in Aruba, from all the nice stuff around.

Another thing that took a hit was my emotions. On the ship, one grows fairly cold to goodbyes, since every 3 months or so a bunch of people leave, and a bunch of new people join. Well, the time has come for the big changeover, with some 50 people leaving to do whatever they are called to, and around 110 people joining from the recently decommissioned Dulous and the new PST. What is so important about this one is that two of my best friends on board and, along with the Ogres, maybe ever are going their own way. My closest mate (since he was an Aussie, I will use mate) is gone. This has happened before when someone I have grown close to has left, but usually they are not too far from home for me (if within the US is considered close), and I know without a doubt I will see them again, but this is different. It was also different since this was the guy I told everything to, a deep connection on every level. We understood each other well, and got along like we were meant to. I already miss you Fitz!

So I got to do a hospital visit in Aruba too, and it was decent. We went into the center where people get their blood cleaned when they have Dialysis, which I had never before heard of. I met a guy who was a tour guide of the Island for some 40 years, and was currently retired. He was kind of falling asleep, and didn’t have direct answers for my questions really, but he was a nice bloke. Then I talked to a Hindu guy who owned a Hugo Bass store in town, he was really nice, but when questioned about faith said he believes in Jesus, but is a Hindu. Very typical Hindu answer, but I thought it would be folly to get into a religious debate in the middle of a hospital while he was getting his blood cleaned. I felt sort of bad for not standing up for Jesus, but one must pick their battles, or else we look like jerks. On the way home I had a decent chat to another lady on board too.

So now I am in Jamaica looking at the next stuff to do, probably some swing (forgot to mention that we did another event in Aruba where I had to transfer a black dot to two others to represent aids) since this port will be busy. We expect tons of people to come on board, so pray that we love each one of them, even those that seem impossible.

2010?!: Update on January 9, 2010

The start of 2010 was somewhat similar to the start of 2009, with some key differences. The sense of reflection was the same, yet it seemed so different. When presented with a slideshow of where we have been in the past year, I was amazed. I have been to 17 different countries on three continents in the past year, how many people have done that in their life? I am blessed beyond reason and for no real reason except that I jumped at an opportunity that was presented me. One New Years Eve, we had the same set up as last year, but in an entirely different place. Carousal is a beautiful place; there is little doubt about that. Our time there was an experience that was mostly notable. Christmas and New Years were celebrated with swimming and enjoying the climate instead of trying to keep warm. The island also offered us two basketball games against a younger co-ed team. After the first game, we had a chance to share with them, and KC (from Canada) gave her testimony after I told them about the ship. Some conversations started, and they were welcome to take the bibles we took. We passed out all of them.
It is amazing how much life has changed in a year, and almost it’s crazy to think that five years ago I was a senior in High School. In average lives, I would be into my career, getting married, etc. This reality sometimes creeps upon me from behind and lies to me, telling me that that life is better than this, or I am too old for school. Lately, this has been hard to suppress as it is hard to see the benefits one receives from his current struggles before they are over. So, in my head is a battle between what is happening and what could have been happening, and which one is better. I am glad I came here to experience the world, and surely I won’t leave the same as when I came. I have experienced some of the world, and hope to experience even more of it as I continue here, and to experience a different world when I come home and make the next big choices.