Flatirons Men's Afghanistan Trip Day Ten - Monday, April 30, 2012
Can't believe we're already down to our last 2 days in Afghanistan. I know it will take weeks...months...a lifetime...to process what we've experienced here. What I do know for sure is this...and I can confidently speak for our team; we have fallen in love with the land of Afghanistan and its people. Our hearts have been opened, and broken, and filled up again by what we've seen here...and what we see God doing here. We finally get it now...we see why everyone comes home from this place different...and we see why everyone wants to come back, again and again.
But today was the clincher. Our trip to Istalif. Istalif is a little town north of Kabul that was decimated by the Taliban, and one of the first places to receive relief from out missions partner. The drive out to Istalif was slightly different than what we'd experienced so far -- in regards to scenery. We drove through an area we had only seen from a distance. The surrounding hills of Kabul are littered with the hand built brick and mortar homes that distinctively mark this entire region. These earthen colored, boxy homes seem to be stacked, one upon the other, stretching up the hillsides, until (as if held down by gravity) they finally peter out...to leave the hilltops exposed. Driving along the base of these neighborhoods, we see the Afghans who live here up close. There are literally hundreds of people hauling bricks, produce, and other wares in carts by donkey...or going to-and-from school...or sitting on their haunches in clumps...talking animately to each other. It's as rugged, and exotic and as beautiful as the rest of Kabul. But then there's Istalif. Where Barak Aub is a community sitting in a barren, dry expanse of a valley at the base of a mountain, Istalif is a rich, green, verdant village that sprawls out, and winds through the mountain base just north and across the valley from Barak Aub. If I thought the architecture and construction leading to Barak Aub looked like something from the Bible times, Istalif was that...only a thousand more. To say this place is "scenic" is like saying the Rockies are big -- it's great understatement. There are houses and neighborhoods leading to the center of Istalif that are lined with vineyards -- vineyards that were scorched and burned by the Taliban years ago, but are bursting out and coming back to life. "Life"...life is the best word to describe this place. It's bursting with life. Lush and green and screaming with new life.
After a visit to the clinic, and a meeting with some of the local leaders, we grouped together to eat lunch at the river that is formed by the streams that cascade off the mountain peaks. OH. MY. GOSH. I am NOT exaggerating. It was one of the best meals I have EVER eaten! And I've had some great meals in my time...just look at my waistline and cholesterol levels. We sat down on a large mat under (what looked like) a blossoming lilac tree and were served kabobs -- cooked fresh from a kabob vendor a stone's throw from where we were resting...at the river's edge. We were first served fresh, warm naan (the traditional bread) and then came the kabobs -- lamb, hot off the grill. My mouth is watering just typing this. We were joined by the governor of Istalif -- which is commonplace when you travel with our host. This man knows everyone! Everywhere we go, he is either cornered or greeted by Afghans... governors...elders...leaders...street vendors...everyone. He seems to know almost everyone in Afghanistan. Shortly after the governor squeezed in and joined us on the mat, the kabobs came, skewered on long metal rods, arrayed like this: meat, fat cube, meat, fat cube, meat. For those of us who are health conscious and trying to clean up our dietary acts...caution was thrown to the wind. We gorged like ancient kings...eating with our hands...ripping naan by the fistful...gnawing on roasted lamb and lamb fat...with the juices dripping from our bearded chins. It was amazing! Could it get any better? We ate and ate until we couldn't eat anymore. I confess...I sinned. I was a glutton. Then, with bellies full, and after Bob and John relieved themselves on a stone wall (we have the pictures), we visited the marketplace, then headed back to Kabul.
Teammate Jase Smith coined this phrase on our first day in Afghanistan. I asked the guys during our first morning devotional time what they expected from the day. When we got around to Jase (a man of few words, but when they come, they are either profound or hilarious), he said, "I don't know what to expect, but I know it will be the best day ever." We all cracked up. It was profound AND hilarious! And that's what Istalif was: the best day ever. On the ride back home I was overcome with this one thought: I love this place...and I love these people...and I pray that all of Afghanistan will one day experience the healing and renewal we saw in Istalif...and that everyday will be "The best day ever."
-- Dan
Monday, April 30, 2012
Day 8: Foundation
Flatirons Men's Afghanistan Trip Day Eight - Sunday, April 29, 2012
I can't even count how many times I've heard the word foundation or foundational used in the business, ethical and cultural worlds. "This is foundational to our marketing strategy" or "The very foundation of our beliefs is centered on (fill in the blank)". But rarely do I get to hear stuff like, "We've got to frame this out so that we can pour the foundation." Today we headed back out to Barak Aub for a second visit to do just that; work on a foundation. There is a widow in the Barak Aub community who is having a house built for her (Thanks, in part, to Flatirons) and we were hoping to get the chance to help a little.
It was a beautiful, clear day as we made the 45 minute trip out of Kabul. Now, I have the directional capabilities of a blind flea, but some of the routes we've been taking are even becoming familiar to me. I can almost find our way back to the guest house, once we're within spitting distance, "Oh yeah...I know! We turn here at the disemboweled sheep shop...then turn left at the rug shop with the armed guard out front!" The men at Barak Aub were already at work when we arrived. In short order, the team was given directives, handed rubber dishwashing gloves, and put to work moving rocks. The foundations on the homes in this little community are all laid the same way -- the way they've been laid for centuries. Large, granite rocks are fitted into a pre-dug trench on the outside and inside parts of the trench, then smaller bits-and-pieces of rock are used to fill the center...in between the larger bordering rocks. Steve Yeager was our eyes and ears on the actual building of the foundation. We needed someone to REALLY learn how this is done because our hope is to come back to Colorado and build a fire pit at the church, using the same technique, in an effort to honor our friends at Barak Aub. So while Steve worked with the foundation masons, the rest of us worked on strengthening our lower backs. We spent the better part of the morning moving rocks and boulders to several designated areas at the building site. It was fun...hauling rocks with the locals...wearing pink rubber gloves...silently communicating with the men (and boys) at Barak Aub...connecting through work and laughter.
The biggest takeaway for me all morning came during our tea break. You always have to break for tea and biscuits at the worksite. While we sipped chai tea, I walked over to observe the building of the foundation. I was struck by the sight of this one little boy. He couldn't be any older than 4 years. He wore a corduroy clothe winter jacket, pants, sandals, and his little head was topped off by a dusty, red cap. He reminded me so much of my own son, Ben, at that age. This little boy was diligently working side-by-side with the other two Afghan men working the foundation. He would look over and judge the size of rock needed, then trot over to a rock pile (a pile we had made), find the right sized rock, then bring it back...and the man would put it into place. Perfect! Standing in this biblical-like land, I watched and wondered if this was what it looked like for Jesus, when he was learning the tools of the carpenter trade from His earthly father, Joseph. This little boy was obviously welcomed at the site -- and even a help. I couldn't tell if either of the men was the little boy's father or not...and it didn't matter. Either way, he was learning something...something foundational...in the metaphorical sense. He was learning how to help...how to be a productive part of his society...and that he mattered...no matter how young or old he was. He mattered to these men and to his village. And that's a foundation that will last long after these rocks crumble and become part of history again.
Our team ended our last day in Barak Aub meeting with a few of the elders from the community. We listened to them, and watched their body language, as they shared their recent struggles and need for more assistance. We all felt helpless, listening to the two main elders talk about their plight. Leaving Barak Aub left the team more than a little somber. When (if ever) will we be back here again? And how will these people fare between now and when we get back. This is where faith has to hold true. God has this in control every bit as much as He does our lives back in Colorado.
The night ended with a special trip to Camp Eggers -- a military installation in the heart of Kabul. Our host was able to get us clearance so that we could join the troops for evening church. We were dropped off at the street and began the long walk through several different security checks. The street was a chasm bordered by high cement walls topped with razor wire. Concrete barriers and armed guards are scattered along the long walk to Camp Eggers entrance. Once we had cleared security, we were escorted by one of the soldiers to the camp church tent. Inside, we joined the troops, sitting in metal folding chairs, singing praise songs to a band made up almost exclusively of soldiers at Eggers. I sat next to one of the largest men I have ever seen. He was a sergeant from North Carolina who stood at 6'8", but looked like he was every bit of 8 feet! And he had the voice of an angel. I know Jim Burgen would love this church. It's the only time I went to church and people laid their automatic weapons on the floor to worship! The "congregation" said goodbye to one of the officers heading home after a year away from home. He shared with the group that he was going home to his wife and four kids -- the youngest being a year old. I don't know how they do it. I've been away from home a total of 8 days and I'm already counting down the hours to see my wife Amy and the rest of the family. This guy's been away from home for a year. He's missed all that stuff you miss when your kids morph through that first year. It made my heart ache.
My heart has ached a lot since landing in Kabul over a week ago. It ached at the school. It ached in Barak Aub. It ached at Camp Eggers. And I know the biggest ache is still to come; when we load up to leave on Tuesday.
-- Dan
I can't even count how many times I've heard the word foundation or foundational used in the business, ethical and cultural worlds. "This is foundational to our marketing strategy" or "The very foundation of our beliefs is centered on (fill in the blank)". But rarely do I get to hear stuff like, "We've got to frame this out so that we can pour the foundation." Today we headed back out to Barak Aub for a second visit to do just that; work on a foundation. There is a widow in the Barak Aub community who is having a house built for her (Thanks, in part, to Flatirons) and we were hoping to get the chance to help a little.
It was a beautiful, clear day as we made the 45 minute trip out of Kabul. Now, I have the directional capabilities of a blind flea, but some of the routes we've been taking are even becoming familiar to me. I can almost find our way back to the guest house, once we're within spitting distance, "Oh yeah...I know! We turn here at the disemboweled sheep shop...then turn left at the rug shop with the armed guard out front!" The men at Barak Aub were already at work when we arrived. In short order, the team was given directives, handed rubber dishwashing gloves, and put to work moving rocks. The foundations on the homes in this little community are all laid the same way -- the way they've been laid for centuries. Large, granite rocks are fitted into a pre-dug trench on the outside and inside parts of the trench, then smaller bits-and-pieces of rock are used to fill the center...in between the larger bordering rocks. Steve Yeager was our eyes and ears on the actual building of the foundation. We needed someone to REALLY learn how this is done because our hope is to come back to Colorado and build a fire pit at the church, using the same technique, in an effort to honor our friends at Barak Aub. So while Steve worked with the foundation masons, the rest of us worked on strengthening our lower backs. We spent the better part of the morning moving rocks and boulders to several designated areas at the building site. It was fun...hauling rocks with the locals...wearing pink rubber gloves...silently communicating with the men (and boys) at Barak Aub...connecting through work and laughter.
The biggest takeaway for me all morning came during our tea break. You always have to break for tea and biscuits at the worksite. While we sipped chai tea, I walked over to observe the building of the foundation. I was struck by the sight of this one little boy. He couldn't be any older than 4 years. He wore a corduroy clothe winter jacket, pants, sandals, and his little head was topped off by a dusty, red cap. He reminded me so much of my own son, Ben, at that age. This little boy was diligently working side-by-side with the other two Afghan men working the foundation. He would look over and judge the size of rock needed, then trot over to a rock pile (a pile we had made), find the right sized rock, then bring it back...and the man would put it into place. Perfect! Standing in this biblical-like land, I watched and wondered if this was what it looked like for Jesus, when he was learning the tools of the carpenter trade from His earthly father, Joseph. This little boy was obviously welcomed at the site -- and even a help. I couldn't tell if either of the men was the little boy's father or not...and it didn't matter. Either way, he was learning something...something foundational...in the metaphorical sense. He was learning how to help...how to be a productive part of his society...and that he mattered...no matter how young or old he was. He mattered to these men and to his village. And that's a foundation that will last long after these rocks crumble and become part of history again.
Our team ended our last day in Barak Aub meeting with a few of the elders from the community. We listened to them, and watched their body language, as they shared their recent struggles and need for more assistance. We all felt helpless, listening to the two main elders talk about their plight. Leaving Barak Aub left the team more than a little somber. When (if ever) will we be back here again? And how will these people fare between now and when we get back. This is where faith has to hold true. God has this in control every bit as much as He does our lives back in Colorado.
The night ended with a special trip to Camp Eggers -- a military installation in the heart of Kabul. Our host was able to get us clearance so that we could join the troops for evening church. We were dropped off at the street and began the long walk through several different security checks. The street was a chasm bordered by high cement walls topped with razor wire. Concrete barriers and armed guards are scattered along the long walk to Camp Eggers entrance. Once we had cleared security, we were escorted by one of the soldiers to the camp church tent. Inside, we joined the troops, sitting in metal folding chairs, singing praise songs to a band made up almost exclusively of soldiers at Eggers. I sat next to one of the largest men I have ever seen. He was a sergeant from North Carolina who stood at 6'8", but looked like he was every bit of 8 feet! And he had the voice of an angel. I know Jim Burgen would love this church. It's the only time I went to church and people laid their automatic weapons on the floor to worship! The "congregation" said goodbye to one of the officers heading home after a year away from home. He shared with the group that he was going home to his wife and four kids -- the youngest being a year old. I don't know how they do it. I've been away from home a total of 8 days and I'm already counting down the hours to see my wife Amy and the rest of the family. This guy's been away from home for a year. He's missed all that stuff you miss when your kids morph through that first year. It made my heart ache.
My heart has ached a lot since landing in Kabul over a week ago. It ached at the school. It ached in Barak Aub. It ached at Camp Eggers. And I know the biggest ache is still to come; when we load up to leave on Tuesday.
-- Dan
Sunday, April 29, 2012
Day 7: Stop
Flatirons Men's Afghanistan Trip Day Seven - Saturday, April 28, 2012
This was one day I had been looking forward to for a long time -- visiting Barak Aub. I first learned of Barak Aub three years ago, while living in Texas, after watching Jim Burgen's message online. It was the weekend an Afghan rug was laid on the stage and God used the community of Flatirons to re-chart the destiny of a group of Afghan refugees huddled on the side of a mountain, in this region called Barak Aub...or "Broken Water". The rest of the team was the same. Other than our team leader, Bob Tunnell, this was everyone's first time at this community. We have all heard about it...heard from others who had been there...seen the pictures they had taken...but now...we were going to see it for ourselves.
The anticipation was palpable during our devotional time and during breakfast. When our host stepped into the dining room and said, "Okay guys! Let's go!" we were in the cars and ready to caravan out to Barak Aub before he could say, "Me Too." I lucked out and got shotgun when we loaded up in the SUV driven by the new executive director for our mission partner. The new ED confessed that his Afghan driving skills may be a little rusty, but 10 minutes into our journey...he was bobbing, weaving, swerving and honking like a national. He was also a great tour guide. The new ED is an ex pat who has worked for several different mission groups -- in Afghanistan and Pakistan and has returned to Kabul after a 7 year absence. He was here during the Taliban days and has witnessed (by his own admission) many, many changes since he lived here last and found it a little difficult to navigate the streets and get his bearings due to the changes and development.
As we made our way through the dusty city and out into the country, we were really able to see the progress and rebuilding that is going on in Kabul. The streets are lined with countless (and I really mean, countless) little shops and merchant wagons, side-by-side, peddling everything from meat and produce...to copper wire and bricks. We couldn't get over all the dead animals hanging in the windows. Goats...Chickens..Entrails. It reminded me of pictures I've seen in history books of New York City at the turn of the century. And the people! There are Afghans everywhere! In cars...on bikes...on motorcycles or just walking, weaving their way through the maze and chaos of the morning traffic. Young. Old. Poor. Rich. We could see them all from the windows of our caravan heading to Barak Aub. The Afghans are a beautiful people. Dark, proud and well-kept...especially in light of the destruction and bleak conditions of lot of them live in. Even the ones on the street begging take care of themselves. Most of which have been women, dressed in traditional Kabul light-blue burkas -- covering them completely. You can't see any part of their faces, and only a fabric screen allows the women to see and breathe through. I can't help it. It's a haunting sight. No face. No eyes. The only part of their body exposed is the women's' feet and hands -- one hand out-stretched asking for money...the other holding a baby...always around the age of 8-9 months. Seriously! It's the same all over the city. Light-blue burka wearing women, each holding a baby, hands reaching out and saying, "Please. Mister." It's been one of the hardest things for each of us to process.
Once out of the city, the dust started to settle (a little) and the Hindu Kush mountain range started appearing, almost as if out of a fog. And they are huge! Long's Peak would be dwarfed by the massive heights that stretch across this horizon. The road out to Barak Aub is peppered with open, barren expanses, military installations (with high brick walls topped in razor wire) and shepherds. Yes! Shepherds. There is something Old Testament and biblical feeling about this area. You can easily imagine Abraham and Isaac walking across these plains, coaxing their herds to the spotty patches of vegetation seen dotting the hillsides...if it weren't for the occasional semi tractor trailer broken down on the side of the road or ubiquitous motorcycles...driven by turban-wearing Afghans.
After a good half hour of driving though this part of the country, the new ED turned to us and said, "Here it is, up ahead." all of us craned to see out our respective windows. Up ahead was Barak Aub -- this community that has been so much at the heart of Flatirons and our missions outreach. We could see the low-lying valley filled with little brick homes enclosed by little brick walls. Again, like something out of bible times. I immediately recognized a couple of buildings: the school and the clinic. I have had pictures of these two buildings in my office since I was first asked to co-lead this trip. Our caravan came to a stop within the walls of the school and we were immediately met and surrounded by the locals -- consisting of elders, children and school officials. We were invited into the boys school to help pass out care packages that had been put together by the ladies team before us. Each guy on the team took turns passing out the bags to the students and the looks on the little boys faces ranged from wonderment to outright fear. What must that have been like for those little guys? Sitting in the classroom, doing their A,B,C's...then in walks 10 smiling white dudes...in beards and shalwar kameez...passing out goody bags. The alarms had to be going off! "Stranger danger! Stranger danger!" We spent the rest of the morning visiting the girls' school and the clinic - the only medical facility in the entire valley. It was all a blur. Again, sensory overload.
Clarity came when the assistant director, a handsome...almost regal...Afghan gentlemen in his late 50s stood to talk. We gathered around him and listened to him tell his story...and how the community at Barak Aub came to be. It starts with the assistant director and his trip back to Kabul after visiting his family -- just over the hill from where we were standing. He spoke of driving past this valley on his way back to Kabul and seeing a handful of plastic tents scattered across the valley. And what did he do? He stopped. He stopped and asked what was going on...only to learn that these refugees had been dumped on the side of this barren hillside by the government in Kabul to fend for themselves.
What happened next a lot of us know: our missions partner was informed, people were rallied, support was given, wells we're dug, schools were built and clinics were opened. And why? All because one man stopped. We have a great story like this that Jesus gave us. It's a parable called: The Good Samaritan. Most of us know it...about this Jewish guy who gets beat up and left for dead on the side of a mountain. First, a priest walks by...and does nothing. Next, a temple leader. Nothing. Then, a Samaritan, the sworn enemy of most Jewish people, and what does he do? He stops. The world changes when we stop. God does some awesome stuff when we stop. And all it takes is one of us...just one of us to stop and do something. It took this one stoically handsome Afghan gentlemen to stop...and the world is not the same. It's not same for those refugees...it's not the same for Afghanistan...it's not the same for our missions partner...and it's not the same for Flatirons. The real question for me is this: Is it the same for me...and am I going to be the kind of man who stops?
-- Dan
This was one day I had been looking forward to for a long time -- visiting Barak Aub. I first learned of Barak Aub three years ago, while living in Texas, after watching Jim Burgen's message online. It was the weekend an Afghan rug was laid on the stage and God used the community of Flatirons to re-chart the destiny of a group of Afghan refugees huddled on the side of a mountain, in this region called Barak Aub...or "Broken Water". The rest of the team was the same. Other than our team leader, Bob Tunnell, this was everyone's first time at this community. We have all heard about it...heard from others who had been there...seen the pictures they had taken...but now...we were going to see it for ourselves.
The anticipation was palpable during our devotional time and during breakfast. When our host stepped into the dining room and said, "Okay guys! Let's go!" we were in the cars and ready to caravan out to Barak Aub before he could say, "Me Too." I lucked out and got shotgun when we loaded up in the SUV driven by the new executive director for our mission partner. The new ED confessed that his Afghan driving skills may be a little rusty, but 10 minutes into our journey...he was bobbing, weaving, swerving and honking like a national. He was also a great tour guide. The new ED is an ex pat who has worked for several different mission groups -- in Afghanistan and Pakistan and has returned to Kabul after a 7 year absence. He was here during the Taliban days and has witnessed (by his own admission) many, many changes since he lived here last and found it a little difficult to navigate the streets and get his bearings due to the changes and development.
As we made our way through the dusty city and out into the country, we were really able to see the progress and rebuilding that is going on in Kabul. The streets are lined with countless (and I really mean, countless) little shops and merchant wagons, side-by-side, peddling everything from meat and produce...to copper wire and bricks. We couldn't get over all the dead animals hanging in the windows. Goats...Chickens..Entrails. It reminded me of pictures I've seen in history books of New York City at the turn of the century. And the people! There are Afghans everywhere! In cars...on bikes...on motorcycles or just walking, weaving their way through the maze and chaos of the morning traffic. Young. Old. Poor. Rich. We could see them all from the windows of our caravan heading to Barak Aub. The Afghans are a beautiful people. Dark, proud and well-kept...especially in light of the destruction and bleak conditions of lot of them live in. Even the ones on the street begging take care of themselves. Most of which have been women, dressed in traditional Kabul light-blue burkas -- covering them completely. You can't see any part of their faces, and only a fabric screen allows the women to see and breathe through. I can't help it. It's a haunting sight. No face. No eyes. The only part of their body exposed is the women's' feet and hands -- one hand out-stretched asking for money...the other holding a baby...always around the age of 8-9 months. Seriously! It's the same all over the city. Light-blue burka wearing women, each holding a baby, hands reaching out and saying, "Please. Mister." It's been one of the hardest things for each of us to process.
Once out of the city, the dust started to settle (a little) and the Hindu Kush mountain range started appearing, almost as if out of a fog. And they are huge! Long's Peak would be dwarfed by the massive heights that stretch across this horizon. The road out to Barak Aub is peppered with open, barren expanses, military installations (with high brick walls topped in razor wire) and shepherds. Yes! Shepherds. There is something Old Testament and biblical feeling about this area. You can easily imagine Abraham and Isaac walking across these plains, coaxing their herds to the spotty patches of vegetation seen dotting the hillsides...if it weren't for the occasional semi tractor trailer broken down on the side of the road or ubiquitous motorcycles...driven by turban-wearing Afghans.
After a good half hour of driving though this part of the country, the new ED turned to us and said, "Here it is, up ahead." all of us craned to see out our respective windows. Up ahead was Barak Aub -- this community that has been so much at the heart of Flatirons and our missions outreach. We could see the low-lying valley filled with little brick homes enclosed by little brick walls. Again, like something out of bible times. I immediately recognized a couple of buildings: the school and the clinic. I have had pictures of these two buildings in my office since I was first asked to co-lead this trip. Our caravan came to a stop within the walls of the school and we were immediately met and surrounded by the locals -- consisting of elders, children and school officials. We were invited into the boys school to help pass out care packages that had been put together by the ladies team before us. Each guy on the team took turns passing out the bags to the students and the looks on the little boys faces ranged from wonderment to outright fear. What must that have been like for those little guys? Sitting in the classroom, doing their A,B,C's...then in walks 10 smiling white dudes...in beards and shalwar kameez...passing out goody bags. The alarms had to be going off! "Stranger danger! Stranger danger!" We spent the rest of the morning visiting the girls' school and the clinic - the only medical facility in the entire valley. It was all a blur. Again, sensory overload.
Clarity came when the assistant director, a handsome...almost regal...Afghan gentlemen in his late 50s stood to talk. We gathered around him and listened to him tell his story...and how the community at Barak Aub came to be. It starts with the assistant director and his trip back to Kabul after visiting his family -- just over the hill from where we were standing. He spoke of driving past this valley on his way back to Kabul and seeing a handful of plastic tents scattered across the valley. And what did he do? He stopped. He stopped and asked what was going on...only to learn that these refugees had been dumped on the side of this barren hillside by the government in Kabul to fend for themselves.
What happened next a lot of us know: our missions partner was informed, people were rallied, support was given, wells we're dug, schools were built and clinics were opened. And why? All because one man stopped. We have a great story like this that Jesus gave us. It's a parable called: The Good Samaritan. Most of us know it...about this Jewish guy who gets beat up and left for dead on the side of a mountain. First, a priest walks by...and does nothing. Next, a temple leader. Nothing. Then, a Samaritan, the sworn enemy of most Jewish people, and what does he do? He stops. The world changes when we stop. God does some awesome stuff when we stop. And all it takes is one of us...just one of us to stop and do something. It took this one stoically handsome Afghan gentlemen to stop...and the world is not the same. It's not same for those refugees...it's not the same for Afghanistan...it's not the same for our missions partner...and it's not the same for Flatirons. The real question for me is this: Is it the same for me...and am I going to be the kind of man who stops?
-- Dan
Friday, April 27, 2012
Day 6: Little Church...Little Stars
Flatirons Men's Afghanistan Trip Day Six - Friday, April 27, 2012
TGIF. For real. Friday in Afghanistan (and for Muslims) is the sabbath. Afghans take the day off to spend time with family and go to the mosque. So, since this is their holy day, the rest of the ex pats on our mission partners staff have church on Friday too. It's their Sunday-Go-To-Meetin' Day. There was talk of going to a fellowship hall to join some of the other Christian ex pats (They call it Big Church), but our host thought it best to stay put. It was Victory Day here (The day Afghans celebrate their overthrow of the Soviets) and the streets were going to be packed with celebrants. So, we were going to have the privilege of doing church at the guest house (They call that Little Church).
We began the day like we have each morning here at the guest house with that day's devotional through Nehemiah. Peter, Jase, John, Kyle and I were already up and in deep in conversation by the time the other guys came into the living room at 6:30 AM. This has been the trend since we've been here. The attendance changes each morning, but the result is the same: a group of us sits in the living room, drinking strong coffee (or tea) delving into some deep (and some not-so-deep) topics. It's been a great way to connect with each other and learn what makes each other tick. Topics have varied from 5 Point Calvinism, the interpretation of end times scripture, and the challenges of being a believer in this country...to Best Guy Movies, favorite beers, and funniest Family Guy episodes ("Fabulous!"). It really depends on how many cups of coffee we've consumed. The devotion time today was different though. John Waters said it first, and Steve Yeager echoed his sentiment: The Friday's scripture and devotion was extra heavy. It was from Nehemiah 4, where the Israelites deal with oppression and are attacked at every turn. It created a lot of discussion and we had been at it for 45 min. when the staff cook waved us in for breakfast. We really weren't done yet, but we had to end the devotional time...or so I thought.
We quickly ate breakfast and before long, we were deep into another devotional time -- this one completely unplanned. I really can't detail what went on around the breakfast table without breaking confidences, but it was powerful! It was the most honest, vulnerable time we have had as a team. An hour into it...I just silently thanked God for what was happening...for orchestrating everything...for picking our team...for His perfect timing...and the powerful work He was doing in the hearts and lives of each of us...each broken, faulted children of God. There was great laughter and a few tears in the arc of our time together and we ended it in prayer. Oh man! It was already a heart-wrencher...and we hadn't even started Little Church yet!
The new director for our mission partner led Little Church. We held it right around the breakfast table. I have to admit, it felt more than a little awkward when we first started. No one there could play guitar, so we sang along to some praise music played through an iPod stereo system. Weird at first...but slowly...it seemed like the most natural thing to do. People took turns sharing scriptures or prayers in between the songs and it was amazing the way each verse or prayer was the perfect word or sentiment for the moment.
We can read in the Bible, in the book of Acts, about what it was like for the early church; meeting in secrecy, under great suspicion and oppression. The first church consisted of followers holding up in secret all over the region in various towns and cities where Christianity first started to spread. These early believers...these followers of Jesus...were like little lights scattered all over the known world...like stars in the night sky. Today, sitting around that table, awkwardly singing praise songs to a portable stereo, sharing the power of God's word, and feeling His presence in our prayer time as if He was sitting their with us...filling the room. It was what it must have been like for Peter, John, Philip and the rest of those early believers. And it was equally moving to think that there might be other believers doing the same thing...praising the same God...chasing after the same Jesus...other stars...other lights in the night sky of Afghanistan. All hanging by faith to the hope that one day... morning will come...and the sun will rise.
"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars." (Persian Proverb)
-- Dan
TGIF. For real. Friday in Afghanistan (and for Muslims) is the sabbath. Afghans take the day off to spend time with family and go to the mosque. So, since this is their holy day, the rest of the ex pats on our mission partners staff have church on Friday too. It's their Sunday-Go-To-Meetin' Day. There was talk of going to a fellowship hall to join some of the other Christian ex pats (They call it Big Church), but our host thought it best to stay put. It was Victory Day here (The day Afghans celebrate their overthrow of the Soviets) and the streets were going to be packed with celebrants. So, we were going to have the privilege of doing church at the guest house (They call that Little Church).
We began the day like we have each morning here at the guest house with that day's devotional through Nehemiah. Peter, Jase, John, Kyle and I were already up and in deep in conversation by the time the other guys came into the living room at 6:30 AM. This has been the trend since we've been here. The attendance changes each morning, but the result is the same: a group of us sits in the living room, drinking strong coffee (or tea) delving into some deep (and some not-so-deep) topics. It's been a great way to connect with each other and learn what makes each other tick. Topics have varied from 5 Point Calvinism, the interpretation of end times scripture, and the challenges of being a believer in this country...to Best Guy Movies, favorite beers, and funniest Family Guy episodes ("Fabulous!"). It really depends on how many cups of coffee we've consumed. The devotion time today was different though. John Waters said it first, and Steve Yeager echoed his sentiment: The Friday's scripture and devotion was extra heavy. It was from Nehemiah 4, where the Israelites deal with oppression and are attacked at every turn. It created a lot of discussion and we had been at it for 45 min. when the staff cook waved us in for breakfast. We really weren't done yet, but we had to end the devotional time...or so I thought.
We quickly ate breakfast and before long, we were deep into another devotional time -- this one completely unplanned. I really can't detail what went on around the breakfast table without breaking confidences, but it was powerful! It was the most honest, vulnerable time we have had as a team. An hour into it...I just silently thanked God for what was happening...for orchestrating everything...for picking our team...for His perfect timing...and the powerful work He was doing in the hearts and lives of each of us...each broken, faulted children of God. There was great laughter and a few tears in the arc of our time together and we ended it in prayer. Oh man! It was already a heart-wrencher...and we hadn't even started Little Church yet!
The new director for our mission partner led Little Church. We held it right around the breakfast table. I have to admit, it felt more than a little awkward when we first started. No one there could play guitar, so we sang along to some praise music played through an iPod stereo system. Weird at first...but slowly...it seemed like the most natural thing to do. People took turns sharing scriptures or prayers in between the songs and it was amazing the way each verse or prayer was the perfect word or sentiment for the moment.
We can read in the Bible, in the book of Acts, about what it was like for the early church; meeting in secrecy, under great suspicion and oppression. The first church consisted of followers holding up in secret all over the region in various towns and cities where Christianity first started to spread. These early believers...these followers of Jesus...were like little lights scattered all over the known world...like stars in the night sky. Today, sitting around that table, awkwardly singing praise songs to a portable stereo, sharing the power of God's word, and feeling His presence in our prayer time as if He was sitting their with us...filling the room. It was what it must have been like for Peter, John, Philip and the rest of those early believers. And it was equally moving to think that there might be other believers doing the same thing...praising the same God...chasing after the same Jesus...other stars...other lights in the night sky of Afghanistan. All hanging by faith to the hope that one day... morning will come...and the sun will rise.
"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars." (Persian Proverb)
-- Dan
Day 5: Steps Ahead
Flatirons Men's Afghanistan Trip Day Five - Thursday, April 26, 2012
Why am I constantly selling God short? Why am I forever doubting that He has things completely under control...and is 10...20...3,000,000 steps ahead of me?
When our team met, very early on in the process, I told our fearless leader, Bob Tunnell, that I would take care of the devotional piece of our trip to Afghanistan. I remembered leading our adult Bible study class through the book of Nehemiah back in Texas -- while we were in the middle of a serious church mess and trying to rebuild after a split.
And God was way ahead of me.
The story of Nehemiah seemed fitting for our mission trip -- a great epic tale centered around restoration and renewal. But even though this happened more than 6 months before we made it over here...the "tyranny of the urgent" kept me from actually putting this devotional together. And I have to admit here, as our trip neared, and my schedule got even crazier, I seriously thought of opting out of preparing the Nehemiah devotions. I kept thinking, "Would it REALLY matter if we don't do it?" But as Monday, April 26th rolled around (5 days before departure), I felt God really urging me to prepare the devotions...so I chucked my Monday schedule out the window and wrote devotionals, printed out 9 copies and put them in binders -- one for each guy on the team. And some more honesty...doing this was nothing more than checking something off my to-do list.
Still...God was way ahead of me.
Fast forward to Thursday, April 26th. As the team gathered for our morning devotions, there was universal agreement that the Nehemiah story was perfect for what we've been experiencing in Kabul. The parallels between Nehemiah's story and what we were seeing in Afghanistan was stark: One, a displaced Jewish exile rebuilding from the ruins of Jerusalem. The other... countless Afghans trying to rise up from the ruins of their country. And I thought, "This is cool! I'm glad we were going through Nehemiah...for our sakes."
But God was still way ahead of me.
One of our main goals in coming here was to speak, as leaders, to the staff of our missions partner here in Afghanistan -- all of whom are Afghans. We knew they wanted to speak to what it's like to be leaders in America. As we prepped and prepared (as much as we could), I was fully planning to talk about being a servant leader -- which we can see in the Bible.
And there was God...way ahead of me.
We were late for the meeting, due to a delay at one of our off-site excursions and we tip-toed into the conference room...trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Shortly after settling in, the staff member who had been taking the meeting notes on a flip chart turned to us and said, "Well, the men are here. I'm done!" and she left. Bart Lillie leaned and whispered, "You need to go take the notes." I looked at him like, "Why me? Why don't you?" I looked at our team...I was closest to the marker and flip chart. It was enlistment by proximity. So I stood up and Bart whispered, "Talk about Nehemiah." That threw me off. Nehemiah? I quickly grabbed the marker and dumbly stood by the flip chart. I glanced at the notes already written on the chart. I saw "servant leader", "honesty"' "open communication" written in blue marker. And as I read this, I heard our host say, "This is Dan" followed by a bunch if stuff in Dari. All eyes turned to me and my heart started racing. I WASN'T READY! What was he doing? I had a brain fart.
And then...God backed up and stood beside me.
All I can say about what happened next was, it was all God...laying the ground work years and years in advance. My heart settled and I shared with the staff the story of Nehemiah and his role as a servant leader, his example of honesty and open communication...it was as if this moment had been preordained, way in advance...which of course it had been. After that, Bob, John, Bart, Jase and Mike all shared their stories on leadership -- each one sharing how God had orchestrated their lives to become the leaders they are today. And why? Because God was way ahead of them, too.
Please understand, this is not about me or about the guys on the team. This is all about God and His "advance team". I only share this because it was humbling and amazing for the whole team to experience this moment. We all recognized...the pieces that had fallen into place, including our devotional time...the focus on Nehemiah...the lessons we had been pulling from our time together. It all led to that meeting with this staff in Afghanistan. And we don't know what God is going to do with our time here. Our faith and trust is that something good will come out of it...and I know (now, more than ever) that it's not my job to figure it out.
God is already 10...20...3,000,000 steps ahead of us all.
-- Dan
Why am I constantly selling God short? Why am I forever doubting that He has things completely under control...and is 10...20...3,000,000 steps ahead of me?
When our team met, very early on in the process, I told our fearless leader, Bob Tunnell, that I would take care of the devotional piece of our trip to Afghanistan. I remembered leading our adult Bible study class through the book of Nehemiah back in Texas -- while we were in the middle of a serious church mess and trying to rebuild after a split.
And God was way ahead of me.
The story of Nehemiah seemed fitting for our mission trip -- a great epic tale centered around restoration and renewal. But even though this happened more than 6 months before we made it over here...the "tyranny of the urgent" kept me from actually putting this devotional together. And I have to admit here, as our trip neared, and my schedule got even crazier, I seriously thought of opting out of preparing the Nehemiah devotions. I kept thinking, "Would it REALLY matter if we don't do it?" But as Monday, April 26th rolled around (5 days before departure), I felt God really urging me to prepare the devotions...so I chucked my Monday schedule out the window and wrote devotionals, printed out 9 copies and put them in binders -- one for each guy on the team. And some more honesty...doing this was nothing more than checking something off my to-do list.
Still...God was way ahead of me.
Fast forward to Thursday, April 26th. As the team gathered for our morning devotions, there was universal agreement that the Nehemiah story was perfect for what we've been experiencing in Kabul. The parallels between Nehemiah's story and what we were seeing in Afghanistan was stark: One, a displaced Jewish exile rebuilding from the ruins of Jerusalem. The other... countless Afghans trying to rise up from the ruins of their country. And I thought, "This is cool! I'm glad we were going through Nehemiah...for our sakes."
But God was still way ahead of me.
One of our main goals in coming here was to speak, as leaders, to the staff of our missions partner here in Afghanistan -- all of whom are Afghans. We knew they wanted to speak to what it's like to be leaders in America. As we prepped and prepared (as much as we could), I was fully planning to talk about being a servant leader -- which we can see in the Bible.
And there was God...way ahead of me.
We were late for the meeting, due to a delay at one of our off-site excursions and we tip-toed into the conference room...trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Shortly after settling in, the staff member who had been taking the meeting notes on a flip chart turned to us and said, "Well, the men are here. I'm done!" and she left. Bart Lillie leaned and whispered, "You need to go take the notes." I looked at him like, "Why me? Why don't you?" I looked at our team...I was closest to the marker and flip chart. It was enlistment by proximity. So I stood up and Bart whispered, "Talk about Nehemiah." That threw me off. Nehemiah? I quickly grabbed the marker and dumbly stood by the flip chart. I glanced at the notes already written on the chart. I saw "servant leader", "honesty"' "open communication" written in blue marker. And as I read this, I heard our host say, "This is Dan" followed by a bunch if stuff in Dari. All eyes turned to me and my heart started racing. I WASN'T READY! What was he doing? I had a brain fart.
And then...God backed up and stood beside me.
All I can say about what happened next was, it was all God...laying the ground work years and years in advance. My heart settled and I shared with the staff the story of Nehemiah and his role as a servant leader, his example of honesty and open communication...it was as if this moment had been preordained, way in advance...which of course it had been. After that, Bob, John, Bart, Jase and Mike all shared their stories on leadership -- each one sharing how God had orchestrated their lives to become the leaders they are today. And why? Because God was way ahead of them, too.
Please understand, this is not about me or about the guys on the team. This is all about God and His "advance team". I only share this because it was humbling and amazing for the whole team to experience this moment. We all recognized...the pieces that had fallen into place, including our devotional time...the focus on Nehemiah...the lessons we had been pulling from our time together. It all led to that meeting with this staff in Afghanistan. And we don't know what God is going to do with our time here. Our faith and trust is that something good will come out of it...and I know (now, more than ever) that it's not my job to figure it out.
God is already 10...20...3,000,000 steps ahead of us all.
-- Dan
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Day 4: Nehemiah
Flatirons Men's Afghanistan Trip Day Four - Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Okay. So while we're here in Afghanistan we're sort of looking at and studying through the book of Nehemiah each morning before breakfast. It's a pretty cool story about a guy...a Jewish exile, actually...who goes home to fix a wall and rebuild a city. I don't know how many times I've read Nehemiah in the Bible...probably dozens, but for the first time...I think I'm finally getting it...finally seeing what that experience must have been like...and what Nehemiah had to go through to rally his people, organize his work crews, and rebuild Jerusalem. The Afghans are doing that every day here.
We saw a lot of the city today which made me think even more about Nehemiah. But the Jerusalem Nehemiah rebuilt had been destroyed thousands of years ago...and the destruction of Kabul is still a fresh wound with the scars and aftermath apparent at every turn.
The day started with a trip to the south end of Kabul to deliver over 200 blankets we had sorted the day before to a public school and ended with a tour of the city -- all of which required a lot of time in Kabul traffic. Now, I don't know how to describe this experience other than to say, "You don't know what it's like until you've been in it." First, there are no traffics signs or signals or directives whatsoever, and even if they had lane markers...I don't think it would matter. To the outsider, Kabul traffic appears to be one, big chaotic (and noisy) mess of cars randomly nosing in-and-out of the side streets, circling the roundabouts and forcing their way into the various thoroughfares...like a Los Angeles rush hour traffic jam...on crack! Instead, we all have come to see that it's more like those extreme close-ups you see on the Discovery Channel of corpuscles racing through the bloodstream -- with every particle working in tandem with the whole...bringing life to the body or city.
The extended tour of Kabul later in the day only reinforced my thoughts on Nehemiah. Kabul is a city in the midst of repairing itself. We are witnesses to the aggressive reconstruction going on...right alongside of the neglected wreckage...and war-torn skeletal structures that had once been places of glory and pride. The biggest example of this came when our host took our team to (what used to be) one of the presidential palaces used to house visiting dignitaries. It was bombed out and destroyed during the civil war back in '92 or '93. We drove up to the front entrance of this estate and were shocked to see the bullet-riddled shell of what had once been a magnificent guest house. There were still remnants of the marble staircases and ornate brick work.
As we walked through the rubble of the palace I couldn't help thinking of Nehemiah walking through the rubble of Jerusalem before he instigated a plan to rebuild it. It must have seemed as hopeless to him as it did to me -- standing in the remains of all that grandeur. But Nehemiah had great vision and passion and he forged ahead anyway...and finished what he started. Even though it seems hopeless to me, I hope and pray that the people of Afghanistan are equally successful in rebuilding their country...for their sake and for ours. The world would be a better place if this happens. But in the book of Nehemiah we can read that the Israelites were able to rebuild Jerusalem because of Nehemiah's clear vision and because of the unwavering cooperation with each other...and because of their unity in withstanding attack and oppression.
We need to keep praying for God to send another Nehemiah.
-- Dan
Okay. So while we're here in Afghanistan we're sort of looking at and studying through the book of Nehemiah each morning before breakfast. It's a pretty cool story about a guy...a Jewish exile, actually...who goes home to fix a wall and rebuild a city. I don't know how many times I've read Nehemiah in the Bible...probably dozens, but for the first time...I think I'm finally getting it...finally seeing what that experience must have been like...and what Nehemiah had to go through to rally his people, organize his work crews, and rebuild Jerusalem. The Afghans are doing that every day here.
We saw a lot of the city today which made me think even more about Nehemiah. But the Jerusalem Nehemiah rebuilt had been destroyed thousands of years ago...and the destruction of Kabul is still a fresh wound with the scars and aftermath apparent at every turn.
The day started with a trip to the south end of Kabul to deliver over 200 blankets we had sorted the day before to a public school and ended with a tour of the city -- all of which required a lot of time in Kabul traffic. Now, I don't know how to describe this experience other than to say, "You don't know what it's like until you've been in it." First, there are no traffics signs or signals or directives whatsoever, and even if they had lane markers...I don't think it would matter. To the outsider, Kabul traffic appears to be one, big chaotic (and noisy) mess of cars randomly nosing in-and-out of the side streets, circling the roundabouts and forcing their way into the various thoroughfares...like a Los Angeles rush hour traffic jam...on crack! Instead, we all have come to see that it's more like those extreme close-ups you see on the Discovery Channel of corpuscles racing through the bloodstream -- with every particle working in tandem with the whole...bringing life to the body or city.
The extended tour of Kabul later in the day only reinforced my thoughts on Nehemiah. Kabul is a city in the midst of repairing itself. We are witnesses to the aggressive reconstruction going on...right alongside of the neglected wreckage...and war-torn skeletal structures that had once been places of glory and pride. The biggest example of this came when our host took our team to (what used to be) one of the presidential palaces used to house visiting dignitaries. It was bombed out and destroyed during the civil war back in '92 or '93. We drove up to the front entrance of this estate and were shocked to see the bullet-riddled shell of what had once been a magnificent guest house. There were still remnants of the marble staircases and ornate brick work.
As we walked through the rubble of the palace I couldn't help thinking of Nehemiah walking through the rubble of Jerusalem before he instigated a plan to rebuild it. It must have seemed as hopeless to him as it did to me -- standing in the remains of all that grandeur. But Nehemiah had great vision and passion and he forged ahead anyway...and finished what he started. Even though it seems hopeless to me, I hope and pray that the people of Afghanistan are equally successful in rebuilding their country...for their sake and for ours. The world would be a better place if this happens. But in the book of Nehemiah we can read that the Israelites were able to rebuild Jerusalem because of Nehemiah's clear vision and because of the unwavering cooperation with each other...and because of their unity in withstanding attack and oppression.
We need to keep praying for God to send another Nehemiah.
-- Dan
Tuesday, April 24, 2012
Day 3: Hope
Flatirons Men's Afghanistan Trip Day Three - Tuesday, April 24, 2012
We went to school today. There were all kinds of things we did throughout the day, but nothing compares to our trip to the school...and the hope we've seen. The morning started with a rousing call to prayer that echoed off the buildings on this end of Kabul. The mullah (I guess) hops on a PA system at the mosque down the street and chants or sings a call to prayer in Pashto...or Dari...or Farsi...Either way, it's like no other alarm clock I've ever had. The predawn hour and sing-song cadence of the mullah on the PA system is haunting.
We said our goodbyes to the Ladies team as they packed up and headed for home. It was wonderful, standing together in this little room of the house where we're staying, being prayed over by this great group of women. That being said...it's much quieter around here now that they're gone. No judgement there...just an observation.
And then we went to school. Teammate John Waters put it best: Hope. We experienced the hope that blankets these muddy streets. I mean, here we were...9 men from the U.S....on a mission trip to help (supposedly) the "least of these"...and we were the ones blessed. Our team was able to go into each classroom and talk to the grade school students...about 220 kids total...and ask questions or hear about what life is like for them here in Kabul.
And we heard hope.
We were all taken back by how well behaved and polite the kids were -- especially knowing that most don't have fathers and come from the poorest of conditions. The school is set up to bring the children "up to speed" with the other kids their age...so that they can enter one of the public schools. Without this school (funded and managed by our mission partner), these kids would be on the streets...and falling through the gaping cracks that exist in their world. But instead, they talk of being pilots and doctors and policemen. They talk of hope.
And we saw hope.
There are two sessions (morning and afternoon) at the school. As the morning session ends, the children are fed -- for some, their only meal of the day. Then, as the the AM kids are dismissed, the PM kids filter in. The looks on their faces took our breath away...multiple times. Like when we had the privilege of feeding them lunch...or when a couple of the guys asked the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up...or simply when they danced and pranced in the courtyard of the school before and after school. The way kids are supposed to dance and prance. Their eyes...their dark, soulful eyes...were filled with joy and hope.
We came back and worked on a project -- sorting through blankets and coats we plan to distribute at an IDP camp tomorrow, but all of us (as Kyle Hamlin said)...were "taking awhile to process" our day at the school.
I really wish everyone back home could experience a fraction of what we've seen and heard here in Kabul so far. I'm sure, like us, you too would be filled...with hope. "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13
-- Dan
We went to school today. There were all kinds of things we did throughout the day, but nothing compares to our trip to the school...and the hope we've seen. The morning started with a rousing call to prayer that echoed off the buildings on this end of Kabul. The mullah (I guess) hops on a PA system at the mosque down the street and chants or sings a call to prayer in Pashto...or Dari...or Farsi...Either way, it's like no other alarm clock I've ever had. The predawn hour and sing-song cadence of the mullah on the PA system is haunting.
We said our goodbyes to the Ladies team as they packed up and headed for home. It was wonderful, standing together in this little room of the house where we're staying, being prayed over by this great group of women. That being said...it's much quieter around here now that they're gone. No judgement there...just an observation.
And then we went to school. Teammate John Waters put it best: Hope. We experienced the hope that blankets these muddy streets. I mean, here we were...9 men from the U.S....on a mission trip to help (supposedly) the "least of these"...and we were the ones blessed. Our team was able to go into each classroom and talk to the grade school students...about 220 kids total...and ask questions or hear about what life is like for them here in Kabul.
And we heard hope.
We were all taken back by how well behaved and polite the kids were -- especially knowing that most don't have fathers and come from the poorest of conditions. The school is set up to bring the children "up to speed" with the other kids their age...so that they can enter one of the public schools. Without this school (funded and managed by our mission partner), these kids would be on the streets...and falling through the gaping cracks that exist in their world. But instead, they talk of being pilots and doctors and policemen. They talk of hope.
And we saw hope.
There are two sessions (morning and afternoon) at the school. As the morning session ends, the children are fed -- for some, their only meal of the day. Then, as the the AM kids are dismissed, the PM kids filter in. The looks on their faces took our breath away...multiple times. Like when we had the privilege of feeding them lunch...or when a couple of the guys asked the kids what they wanted to be when they grew up...or simply when they danced and pranced in the courtyard of the school before and after school. The way kids are supposed to dance and prance. Their eyes...their dark, soulful eyes...were filled with joy and hope.
We came back and worked on a project -- sorting through blankets and coats we plan to distribute at an IDP camp tomorrow, but all of us (as Kyle Hamlin said)...were "taking awhile to process" our day at the school.
I really wish everyone back home could experience a fraction of what we've seen and heard here in Kabul so far. I'm sure, like us, you too would be filled...with hope. "May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit." Romans 15:13
-- Dan
Monday, April 23, 2012
Day 2: Kabul - "Floor to Ceiling"
Flatirons Men's Afghanistan Trip Day Two - Monday, April 23, 2012
So I fell asleep Sunday night glancing up, every now and then, at the arrowed decal on the hotel ceiling -- marking the direction toward Mecca for the Muslim devout. A nagging reminder that I'm not nearly as diligent or directed or interested in my prayer life to my Lord...Lord God Jehovah...as those praying to Allah. A sobering thought.
I was wide awake by 5:30AM Monday and met up with an even earlier riser: teammate Bart Lillie. Bart had only slept an hour and was waiting in the breakfast area for the rest of us. One by one, the rest of the team joined us. We ate breakfast together, then circled up in one of the rooms for a quick briefing on our trip from Dubai into Kabul. Bob Tunnell has gone above and beyond call as our team leader and patiently walked us through the customs entry papers. Then, we checked out and split for the airport.
Dubai was even more grand in the daylight with multiple gardens and fountains spread along the roadside on our way to the terminal. Still...and I know I wasn't alone in feeling this way...Dubai was already in my rear view mirror...and I was looking forward to (and anticipating) our arrival in Kabul. Again, the necessary safety stops at the airport went fine and after about a 90 minute wait we were standing at the gate waiting to board the plane. The varied collection of people boarding the Safi Airlines flight into Kabul was a bit of a surprise. First, their were more Westerners than I had expected...and lots of those were rough, chiseled-looking dudes who had the air of ex-military or "independent contractor" to them. It made me want to watch The Bourne Ultimatum...which I did.
I don't know who to thank, but I got the window seat on the Kabul flight. The view for most of the 2 1/2 hour flight was deeeessseeerrrt...desert and, what looked like, dry river beds. That was until we hit a nasty patch of turbulence (the near-roller coaster variety) and started to make our descent.
As we neared Kabul, the mountain ranges came into view -- massive, bright-white, snow capped peaks that resemble the Rockies...but are more like a rough-and-tumble second cousin. The closer we got to Kabul you could make out just how rugged these mountains are, but nestled in the valleys you can see lush, green pockets of trees and vegetation. I lucked out again and was the first to clear the first stage of customs at the Kabul International Airport where I was immediately met by our good friend and host. For obvious reasons I have to be discreet here, but lots of you know who I mean. It was so good to see our host's friendly face and great fun watching him "do his thing" -- getting us through the rest of customs and luggage retrieval without a single hitch.
The arrival in Kabul may have been smooth, but not the case for the ride to our accommodations for the week. Traffic in Kabul is CRAZY...but great fun! Our host is like the Dale Earnhart of Kabul traffic; negotiating the multi-laned, no signaled, chaotic frenzy called "The Daily Commute" like a NASCAR champ! I don't know how they do it. All I could think was, "What kind of Drivers' Ed must they have here?"
Once we arrived at our final destination, we were warmly greeted by the Ladies Flatirons team. I had to remind myself that I couldn't give my friends and co-workers Mary Plese and Karen Berge a hug. I hadn't seen them in two weeks, so a "fist bump" was going to have to suffice. The rest of the day and evening were spent exchanging stories between teams (which the ladies win by sheer volume alone) and hearing what God is doing here through our missions partner -- this tiny band of brave Jesus followers.
Needless to say, God is doing amazing things here and the guys and I are humbled and honored to hear...and look forward to seeing more of it...firsthand. The day was capped off with a traditional Afghan meal of flavored rice, seasoned meat balls, spinach, fresh salad and naan...and it was delicious!
Now, as I type this, laying on the floor, I can glance up at the ceiling of our home for the next week (sans Mecca marker), where the answered prayers of so many of you at Flatirons are evident in every corner...and where the unanswered prayers are held in God's hands...whose fingerprints we see everywhere. We all wait in anticipation for what God is going to reveal to us tomorrow. Until then.
-- Dan
So I fell asleep Sunday night glancing up, every now and then, at the arrowed decal on the hotel ceiling -- marking the direction toward Mecca for the Muslim devout. A nagging reminder that I'm not nearly as diligent or directed or interested in my prayer life to my Lord...Lord God Jehovah...as those praying to Allah. A sobering thought.
I was wide awake by 5:30AM Monday and met up with an even earlier riser: teammate Bart Lillie. Bart had only slept an hour and was waiting in the breakfast area for the rest of us. One by one, the rest of the team joined us. We ate breakfast together, then circled up in one of the rooms for a quick briefing on our trip from Dubai into Kabul. Bob Tunnell has gone above and beyond call as our team leader and patiently walked us through the customs entry papers. Then, we checked out and split for the airport.
Dubai was even more grand in the daylight with multiple gardens and fountains spread along the roadside on our way to the terminal. Still...and I know I wasn't alone in feeling this way...Dubai was already in my rear view mirror...and I was looking forward to (and anticipating) our arrival in Kabul. Again, the necessary safety stops at the airport went fine and after about a 90 minute wait we were standing at the gate waiting to board the plane. The varied collection of people boarding the Safi Airlines flight into Kabul was a bit of a surprise. First, their were more Westerners than I had expected...and lots of those were rough, chiseled-looking dudes who had the air of ex-military or "independent contractor" to them. It made me want to watch The Bourne Ultimatum...which I did.
I don't know who to thank, but I got the window seat on the Kabul flight. The view for most of the 2 1/2 hour flight was deeeessseeerrrt...desert and, what looked like, dry river beds. That was until we hit a nasty patch of turbulence (the near-roller coaster variety) and started to make our descent.
As we neared Kabul, the mountain ranges came into view -- massive, bright-white, snow capped peaks that resemble the Rockies...but are more like a rough-and-tumble second cousin. The closer we got to Kabul you could make out just how rugged these mountains are, but nestled in the valleys you can see lush, green pockets of trees and vegetation. I lucked out again and was the first to clear the first stage of customs at the Kabul International Airport where I was immediately met by our good friend and host. For obvious reasons I have to be discreet here, but lots of you know who I mean. It was so good to see our host's friendly face and great fun watching him "do his thing" -- getting us through the rest of customs and luggage retrieval without a single hitch.
The arrival in Kabul may have been smooth, but not the case for the ride to our accommodations for the week. Traffic in Kabul is CRAZY...but great fun! Our host is like the Dale Earnhart of Kabul traffic; negotiating the multi-laned, no signaled, chaotic frenzy called "The Daily Commute" like a NASCAR champ! I don't know how they do it. All I could think was, "What kind of Drivers' Ed must they have here?"
Once we arrived at our final destination, we were warmly greeted by the Ladies Flatirons team. I had to remind myself that I couldn't give my friends and co-workers Mary Plese and Karen Berge a hug. I hadn't seen them in two weeks, so a "fist bump" was going to have to suffice. The rest of the day and evening were spent exchanging stories between teams (which the ladies win by sheer volume alone) and hearing what God is doing here through our missions partner -- this tiny band of brave Jesus followers.
Needless to say, God is doing amazing things here and the guys and I are humbled and honored to hear...and look forward to seeing more of it...firsthand. The day was capped off with a traditional Afghan meal of flavored rice, seasoned meat balls, spinach, fresh salad and naan...and it was delicious!
Now, as I type this, laying on the floor, I can glance up at the ceiling of our home for the next week (sans Mecca marker), where the answered prayers of so many of you at Flatirons are evident in every corner...and where the unanswered prayers are held in God's hands...whose fingerprints we see everywhere. We all wait in anticipation for what God is going to reveal to us tomorrow. Until then.
-- Dan
Sunday, April 22, 2012
"Satur-unday"
Flatirons Men's Trip to Afghanistan Date: Saturday April 21-Sunday April 22 Denver to Washington, DC to Dubai, UAE
Saturday 4/21: It's been a long train coming. Our delayed launch from March 10 seems to have stretched on forever...and left a few of us (Guilty!) wondering whether we'd even get to go to Afghanistan. Needless to say, as we grouped up at the United Airlines counter, the entire team was in great spirits -- knowing we were mere minutes from our long-anticipated journey. Bob Tunnell gave a prayer, we said our goodbyes to our families...and we were finally off! Check in, boarding and departure was a breeze. The team took it as a good sign that the in-flight movie was the latest "Mission:Impossible". The Burj Khalif (the tallest building in the world) plays a large (pun intended) part in one of the action sequences in MI 4: Ghost Protocol, and we were (hopefully) within a few hours of standing at its base. After an early landing in DC, we hoofed it to our gate with time-to-spare before boarding for the long haul across the pond to Dubai.
Saturday 4/21 into Sunday 4/22: This was the part I was worried about the most: the prolonged flight...trying to sleep or rest or whatever you're supposed to do to throw your body clock into Dubai time. Some of us were more successful than others, but on-the-whole, the team faired well...and we landed an hour ahead of schedule. My first dose of reality came as we dropped below the low-hanging storm clouds to land in Dubai. It was like a scene from "Lawrence of Arabia" -- a desert expanse that stretched as far as I could make out. I looked...half expecting to see sheiks riding camels. What I DID see...off...way off...in the horizon was the Burj Khaliff, poking through the clouds like a needle through a dirty sheet.
Sunday 4/22: Is there anything worse than standing in line at customs? Okay...maybe the DMV, but that's about it. We all cleared without a hitch except for our last teammate through the line: John Waters. When he was pulled out of line and taken down another hallway, we all took a deep breath and waited. Within minutes John reappeared...with that ubiquitous wide grin on his face...without a care in the world. No problem. Just a glitch with the passport scanner.
After a quick trip to the hotel (in the nicest, cleanest cab I've ever been in), we were all on the streets of Dubai, heading off on our first excursion: Creek Dubai. Bob had heard good stuff about the riverboat cruises down Creek Dubai and the entire team was in for it! It was good to stand, to stretch, and to walk after the 13 hour flight. The streets around the hotel were quite an eye opener. This section of Dubai looked like a cross between Vegas and Houston...noly more humid. Lots of cement and neon signs and about every Western amenity you could ask for: McDonald's (or McDavid's, either one), Pizza Hut, KFC. We even passed a Cinnabon! And even though it was around 10PM Dubai time...my body was still on lunchtime in Colorado...and a Cinnabon was NOT out of the question.
We soon learned that almost everything shuts down in Dubai around 10PM. Still, we found a little party boat at a dock on Creek Dubai captained by a young Iranian man named Solomon. We knew this area of the world is known for its hospitality and Solomon was a shining example. After getting us off and headed down this...canal (more than a river)...he passed out ice cold Pepsis and gave us (in broken English) a complete guided tour of Creek Dubai, and its history. Even at night, the opulence of this region was glaring. Throughout the high rise office buildings and grand palaces that lined the shoreline there were minarets peppered in, and around, the city. Solomon was a wealth of information; knowing construction dates of buildings ("That building. American Embassy. New one. Built in 2008. President George Bush here. In 2008.") and which country owned which boat ("That boat. Pakistani. Costs 3...4 duram. One hour. No food.") and which sheik owned which expansive palace.
All of us had the same grateful look on our faces -- humbled and grateful and in awe of God...for His blessings...for His creation...and for His children, one of which was this young Iranian who gave us the tour we'll never forget. By the way, Pepsi on an empty stomach, after staying awake for 30 hours straight...will give you a sugar buzz. I'm just saying...
We split two cabs (4 in one, 5 in the other...a VERY tight fit. I now know more about Kyle Hamlin then I ever wanted to know!) and headed for the Dubai Mall and the Burj Khalif. Men aren't supposed to want to go to malls, but this one was an exception...and we saw like men are supposed to: when it's closed. The Dubai Mall is HUGE (Surprise). Steve Yeager (who's in the mall biz) said it has over 1,200 stores. Park Meadows Mall has 120. Puts THAT into perspective. The place is monstrous...but more importantly, it had a food court...with a few places still open. We all ate and then made our way outside to the Burj Khalif. Amazing! That's all I can really say. Again, even at night, when everything was closed, this place oozes luxury and opulence...and the Burj is the proverbial icing on the cake. We all wished it was still open so that we could ride to the top, but it wasn't to be. That will have to wait for a later date -- if at all. We were all dragging as we made it back to the hotel. It never felt better to lay down in a bed. I might not have this much to write for the rest of the trip, but if Kabul is anything like the cultural and social overload Dubai has been...who knows.
--Dan
Saturday 4/21: It's been a long train coming. Our delayed launch from March 10 seems to have stretched on forever...and left a few of us (Guilty!) wondering whether we'd even get to go to Afghanistan. Needless to say, as we grouped up at the United Airlines counter, the entire team was in great spirits -- knowing we were mere minutes from our long-anticipated journey. Bob Tunnell gave a prayer, we said our goodbyes to our families...and we were finally off! Check in, boarding and departure was a breeze. The team took it as a good sign that the in-flight movie was the latest "Mission:Impossible". The Burj Khalif (the tallest building in the world) plays a large (pun intended) part in one of the action sequences in MI 4: Ghost Protocol, and we were (hopefully) within a few hours of standing at its base. After an early landing in DC, we hoofed it to our gate with time-to-spare before boarding for the long haul across the pond to Dubai.
Saturday 4/21 into Sunday 4/22: This was the part I was worried about the most: the prolonged flight...trying to sleep or rest or whatever you're supposed to do to throw your body clock into Dubai time. Some of us were more successful than others, but on-the-whole, the team faired well...and we landed an hour ahead of schedule. My first dose of reality came as we dropped below the low-hanging storm clouds to land in Dubai. It was like a scene from "Lawrence of Arabia" -- a desert expanse that stretched as far as I could make out. I looked...half expecting to see sheiks riding camels. What I DID see...off...way off...in the horizon was the Burj Khaliff, poking through the clouds like a needle through a dirty sheet.
Sunday 4/22: Is there anything worse than standing in line at customs? Okay...maybe the DMV, but that's about it. We all cleared without a hitch except for our last teammate through the line: John Waters. When he was pulled out of line and taken down another hallway, we all took a deep breath and waited. Within minutes John reappeared...with that ubiquitous wide grin on his face...without a care in the world. No problem. Just a glitch with the passport scanner.
After a quick trip to the hotel (in the nicest, cleanest cab I've ever been in), we were all on the streets of Dubai, heading off on our first excursion: Creek Dubai. Bob had heard good stuff about the riverboat cruises down Creek Dubai and the entire team was in for it! It was good to stand, to stretch, and to walk after the 13 hour flight. The streets around the hotel were quite an eye opener. This section of Dubai looked like a cross between Vegas and Houston...noly more humid. Lots of cement and neon signs and about every Western amenity you could ask for: McDonald's (or McDavid's, either one), Pizza Hut, KFC. We even passed a Cinnabon! And even though it was around 10PM Dubai time...my body was still on lunchtime in Colorado...and a Cinnabon was NOT out of the question.
We soon learned that almost everything shuts down in Dubai around 10PM. Still, we found a little party boat at a dock on Creek Dubai captained by a young Iranian man named Solomon. We knew this area of the world is known for its hospitality and Solomon was a shining example. After getting us off and headed down this...canal (more than a river)...he passed out ice cold Pepsis and gave us (in broken English) a complete guided tour of Creek Dubai, and its history. Even at night, the opulence of this region was glaring. Throughout the high rise office buildings and grand palaces that lined the shoreline there were minarets peppered in, and around, the city. Solomon was a wealth of information; knowing construction dates of buildings ("That building. American Embassy. New one. Built in 2008. President George Bush here. In 2008.") and which country owned which boat ("That boat. Pakistani. Costs 3...4 duram. One hour. No food.") and which sheik owned which expansive palace.
All of us had the same grateful look on our faces -- humbled and grateful and in awe of God...for His blessings...for His creation...and for His children, one of which was this young Iranian who gave us the tour we'll never forget. By the way, Pepsi on an empty stomach, after staying awake for 30 hours straight...will give you a sugar buzz. I'm just saying...
We split two cabs (4 in one, 5 in the other...a VERY tight fit. I now know more about Kyle Hamlin then I ever wanted to know!) and headed for the Dubai Mall and the Burj Khalif. Men aren't supposed to want to go to malls, but this one was an exception...and we saw like men are supposed to: when it's closed. The Dubai Mall is HUGE (Surprise). Steve Yeager (who's in the mall biz) said it has over 1,200 stores. Park Meadows Mall has 120. Puts THAT into perspective. The place is monstrous...but more importantly, it had a food court...with a few places still open. We all ate and then made our way outside to the Burj Khalif. Amazing! That's all I can really say. Again, even at night, when everything was closed, this place oozes luxury and opulence...and the Burj is the proverbial icing on the cake. We all wished it was still open so that we could ride to the top, but it wasn't to be. That will have to wait for a later date -- if at all. We were all dragging as we made it back to the hotel. It never felt better to lay down in a bed. I might not have this much to write for the rest of the trip, but if Kabul is anything like the cultural and social overload Dubai has been...who knows.
--Dan
Tuesday, April 17, 2012
"I Want To Go To There"
I first learned about Flatirons’ mission partner in Afghanistan over 3 years ago while sitting in front of my office computer back in Texas—listening to a Jim Burgen podcast. I sat there in the comfort of my well-maintained, two-story home numbly listening to what Flatirons was doing for the “least of these” in this tiny community on the side of a mountain half-a-world away. When the podcast ended, I remember choking with emotion and thinking how much I wanted to step out of my comfort zone and (as Tina Fey says in NBCs 30 Rock) “Go to there.”
Fast forward 3 years and now here I sit in front of my office computer in Colorado going through my last minute to-do list...getting ready to “go to there.” We’ve got a great group of 9 Flatirons guys champing at the bit…rare and ready to visit our missions’ partner over there (See: picture).
Everyone says the same thing, “You can’t describe what it’s like. You have to experience it.” Okay…I’m ready…I’m more than ready…I’ve been ready for over 3 years. And there are a few guys on our team who have been ready for even longer. I’m always one up for a challenge, so even though people have said you can’t describe it…I’m going to try and give it a shot. I’m going to use this Men’s Blog to post daily (hopefully) activities, thoughts and insights. We’ll see.
So…until we return, I know you’ll be praying for us and for our missions’ partner. Who knows, maybe something you hear or read from one of us on the team will eventually dig deep into your heart and inspire you to step out and say, “I want to go to there.”
See you on the flip-side of Afghanistan.
—Dan
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