Climbin’ & Floatin’

Climbin’ Masada and Floatin’ in the Dead Sea.

Masada is a mountain-top fortress and palace of yore. The only way up/down in those times (which of course is how WE went up/down) is what’s called the “Snake Path”. Not because there are snakes on it, but because it is like a long, windy, switchback-ey snake itself. Oh, and it goes straight up. Herod built Masada as one of his strongest defenses, and it withstood the test – but not to protect Herod. It was the last stand of the Jewish forces against Rome. It fell to Rome in 73 A.D., three years after the Temple fell in Jerusalem. Outlines of the original Roman camps surrounding it for a months-long siege are still visible to this day – the best preserved ones around. They are phenomenal. And once on the hilltop, there is time to reflect on the 900 or so people that took their own lives the night before Rome succeeded in their siege, because they chose death over slavery.



The Dead Sea is just below Masada, so naturally a relaxing float would follow the climb. We decided it feels like sitting in a vat of baby oil – and as you might guess, it’s hard to decide whether that’s a good or bad thing as you float around. But it’s quite a fascinating experience no matter how many times you’ve done it before. It is absolutely impossible to not float, because your body has more water in it than the “sea”. We also found some of the mineral mud and the pictures are available for your entertainment.



We leave Israel tomorrow night, and can only be grateful for our time here. Not just in seeing parts of this amazing Land, but also exulting in the time with Wendy and her mom. We’ve had such fun sharing life through work and play – and pastries!

Nothing new

I’m not going to pretend this is some new and phenomenal realization, but these last few weeks I’ve really been struck with how “serving” is still so often about ourselves. For me, this has come out because I’ve asked myself whether I’m finding pleasure in serving because a) it’s actually with a heart for the person I’m trying to serve, or b) it’s because it makes me feel like I’m “accomplishing a goal”. Even this morning as I was reading in Matthew, I was struck by the disciples’ argument about who would be first, where they would sit in the kingdom, etc. The Son told them to get where they wanted they had to be servants to all. But he still knew their motivation was “If I put myself last now, I’ll be first later.” Haven’t we all had that thought at one time or another? Which, of course, means we’re really not putting ourselves last at all … just delaying what we still hope for as first place. So, this made me think again about the bottom-line of existing to bring Glory to the Father. To “bring glory” is not something I readily grasp – it’s not a phrase I use in other parts of life. But one of the definitions I once read did help me a bit with the tangibility of this idea – to “bring glory” is to do what I/we can to protect/honor/uphold another’s reputation. A reputation is something I can wrap my mind around a bit more. And so I came to the beginning of a conclusion … simply that I have been starting with incomplete questions. Do I do what I do to uphold the reputation of my Creator? Right now I can’t say that I even hold this question consciously before me often enough to say “yes” …

Hmmm, He really does …

Yes, we know that our Father guides our footsteps, but every now and then He provides reminders to really know that to be true. This is one of those times for me. When we were first planning this trip, we went back and forth about whether to include a stop here in Israel, particularly with everything going on with Hezbollah. We opted to leave it out of the itinerary until about two days before we bought our flight tickets, when I (Brooke) realized that I had left my dear friend, Wendy, out of the equation. I must admit I dismissed the idea that a visit to my strong, independent friend would be anything but a selfishly enjoyable time. But the Father lovingly chided my heart and prompted us to add Israel back onto the itinerary. His timing could not be more evident. It has been the selfishly enjoyable time I expected, as my heart has simply rejoiced to be with Wendy and back in this Land. But it’s more, too … He knew that my Wendy would need some good friends this week - reminders of His grace and the freedom that comes with that; reasons to laugh and play and be distracted from tears. She left her job this week (her last day was Monday), which is never an easy choice and comes with a whole new set of decisions. Her mom is here this week, too, and we’ve all marveled at the Father’s coordination. He knew. He cares about the details … He really does.

Dirt, sweat and really old stuff

The day after my birthday Brooke and I joined the IBEX crew (a study abroad program through The Master’s College) to help with an archeological dig in the City of David just outside of the Old City Walls of Jerusalem. Yeah, we were sifting through dirt that is believed to be where David’s palace was - just off the Kidron valley. Now I realize that for some of you back breaking work moving dirt around doesn’t sound real enjoyable. But when you realize that you might be touching an artifact that people all the way back to David’s time period may have touched it makes the work go easier. We found hundreds of pieces of clay pots, and dozens of small square mosaic stones used for making floors in homes. I found a horseshoe that our supervisor thinks would have been worn by a donkey. The square next to us found women’s jewelry and a coin. They also found the first artifact that the “dig” feels it can date to the second temple time period. This would be after the temple was destroyed the first time but before it was destroyed again by the Romans in 70 A.D. After the dig, Brooke and I walked around Jerusalem. We spent time at the Second Temple Excavations and at the Western Wall, then walked through the Jewish Quarter. When you realize that you are looking at stones from the original temple that Solomon built, when you see the stone rubble from when the Romans tore the temple down what you have read and believed takes on a visual reality of dare I say Biblical Proportion.



As I was standing at the Wailing Wall, touching the stones and praying, it struck me how thankful I was that the beginning started here at the temple, but didn’t end here. That Yahweh called us all, not just the Jews, and that he freed us from the burden of the Jewish Law through His Son. I am thankful for spiritual roots deep in Jerusalem, and thankful that those roots lead to the heart of He who redeemed us.

Getting Older in a Place that knows all about OLD.

So I turned 30 the other day. Hey I know I still look like I should be finishing college, but thirty is what I am. My brother told me I couldn’t hide from it even if I left the states, and he was right. 30; it sounds so old. Don’t get me wrong, plenty of you reading this are far older than me … (My pastor who only looks 35ish is easily 70 years old, my wise father who gained wisdom with age, my older brother who is by very definition “older”) … but for me it’s 3 decades of life that leave me feeling a little contemplative. The Father has given me a significant portion of years and I wonder what I have done with it? It’s the hay, straw, silver and gold question. What of my life to date would burn away, and what would withstand the fire of His holiness? I know the basis of my life is not founded on works, yet “life” by definition implies an active, carried out thing. So what have I carried out so far? What have you?

Then, just when I thought 30 was old I went to Caesarea and walked along the ruins of the great port that Herod built. It was in this city that Cornelius the Centurion called Peter to his household (Acts 12?). This is where Paul stood witness before Festus and Agrippa (Acts 24-26). This is old. 2000 years old. It’s hard to explain how something like this hits you, it comes gradually. At first is the impending excitement, “I’m going to see something really old.” Then the awe of knowing that this is where the stories took place. Then the disillusioning, “cool, but is that it?”. Finally a steady contemplativeness that realizes His Word is accurate and historical, and a thankfulness that He would allow me to spend time here seeking His face in the ruins of many centuries.

On my Birthday Brooke took me to Old Jaffa. This is the city where Peter was staying with Simon the Tanner when he received the invitation from the centurion in Caesarea. After walking through this village we went to a local beach near Tel Aviv and relaxed together for a while. The day was beautiful and the water of the Mediterranean was cool but not cold. Thanks for each of you who wished me a happy birthday, it was much appreciated.

All I gotta say ...

... is it's SO GOOD to be back in this Land o' Israel.

Toenails are supposed to stay on

So it’s Friday. The weather after a refreshingly sunny day yesterday is cold again, Brooke is with Ally at her Turkish language class and I am at home nursing a toe injury I incurred last night. For the overly curious, I stubbed my toe on a marble edge and peeled a toenail nearly completely off. Walking around this morning I am perhaps able to show a bit more empathy to professional athletes when they sit out of numerous games due to turf toe, or some other kind of toe injury.

Speaking of sports, I know Brooke updated you about the “football’ game we went to Wednesday night. Amazing! 40,000 fans all chanting the same songs, yelling the same words, echoing each other, applauding their team and whistling against the injustices perceived from their opponents. It was like a youth group function for all the Southern California churches. Amazing! If you check our pictures you will see the wall of fans in Red and Yellow. Equally amazing is that when they scored their first goal people lit up road flares. (Andy Hegg if you’re reading this, remind me to show you the video when we get home) 2-1 final score, 20 rows off the field, champions league match, road flares, riot police and 7 yellow cards. Amazing!

Equally as impressive was the trip we took to the Aya Sofya and Blue Mosque on Tuesday. The Aya Sofya was built in the Justinian era of Rome at 537 AD. It was a Christian church and a magnificent work that took 5 years to complete. The huge dome was built without pillars underneath for support. It was taken over by the Muslim Sultans in 1434, who covered over all the pictures on the wall and ceiling, and attempted to shave off and remove all the crosses from the interior of the building. Interestingly enough the coverings that were used actually worked to embalm the paintings and as some have been uncovered they are shown to be in excellent condition. The Blue Mosque was built around 1610 directly across from the Aya Sofya. It was an attempt to copy the dome architecture. However they were unable to copy it’s likeness without using four large pillars to hold the dome in place. A friend pointed out how Christianity is to the Aya Sofya what the Muslim world is to the Blue Mosque. Both buildings are truly beautiful works of architecture. The blue mosque is still a working mosque, while the Aya Sofya is now a museum.

Last night we accompanied Ally to Cay (Chai) House, a place where Turkish university students go to practice their English with their western friends. This may have been the best reminder for me what the vision is for working in Turkey. While at one table I learned of a Turkish slang saying, “Let the horse die of eating barley” (loosely this translates let me die eating what I like); at another table a conversation discussing whether or not Christians and Muslims believe in the same God arose. The important conversations are sparse here but they do take place. I shouldn’t wonder that God has meant for something significant to occur here down the road. It reminds me of a book I was just reading about the church in China. For 150 years the Protestant mission was large but the number of converts small. Then upon that foundation God built a church of exponential size and growth. Now those who had workers coming to them are themselves sending workers out to other countries. Oh that God would do the same for Turkey, and use the foundation laid here through toil and persistence to kindle an unquenchable flame.

We will leave Turkey tomorrow but our friends will remain. Outnumbered, overwhelmed, they will continue to give sacrificially of themselves desperately seeking to open the eyes of a lost and complacent generation whose impending future knows not an eternity spent in relationship with the Father.

"This is the Country [they] live in."

Last night we ventured out to a soccer game at the Olympiat Stadium … GalataySarat (sp?) played PSV. We waited on the public service bus for about 45 minutes before taking off for the Stadium. And the Turks on board were NOT happy. Me? I was just glad we were inside and warm, and it’s quite a phenomenon how you don’t get as riled up about stuff when you can’t understand the argument . But here’s a synopsis as translated to us: The bus wasn’t leaving because the driver didn’t know how to get to the Stadium! Now, let me remind you – this was the public service bus FOR THE GAME. We had to show our tickets just to get on the bus. But they didn’t know how to get there. Alif, a local friend, explained: “This is the country we live in. They build a Stadium that can hold 72,000 people, and they forget to build roads to it.” This became quite a comical time for all of us, perhaps climaxing when Ally realized “We’re protesting with the Turks!”.



Well, eventually we did pull out of the station and somehow the driver found his way to the Stadium – right in time for kick off (which was at 9:45 PM!). The Turks don’t mess around when it comes to soccer. As we walked towards the Stadium, it sounded like we were walking into a crowd of Orcs on Lord of the Rings – just the sheer power in their voices and preparatory cheering. And it didn’t slow down … they remained passionate throughout the entire game, and when it became clear they were going to lose, it also became clear why the hundreds of police officers had been stationed around. As they brought out their riot gear, we took that as our exit cue.

Sigh (the good kind)

So, the other night we joined Ally in a study of the Word, and were going over the two greatest commands: to love God with all our heart, soul and mind, and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Though it seems so simple, I had truly thought of those commands as near equal, and had glossed right over the order in which they were given. Perhaps it’s easier to focus on the love your neighbor part because we can grasp the tangible nature of that. And it’s a tough challenge – anytime this passage is addressed, the discussion is generally about how much we all love ourselves and how it’s hard to love a neighbor at the same level. But if I were to actually love God with all my heart, than there would not be this high level of selfish love remaining in me, and thus the challenge of loving someone else wouldn’t seem like such a chasm to cross.

I (Brooke) have really appreciated the various encouragement I’ve received, from people and the Word, this week, to just get over myself and relax. To not feel like I have to justify everything I do (or don’t do). To just be. Not the first time I’ve had to receive this kind of encouragement  - not likely to be the last, either, but important everytime.

Tonight, we got to join Ally at “Chai House” – a make-shift coffee shop environment where Turkish friends are invited to come and meet and chat informally. It was really a blessing. Both to be able to engage through halted English/Turkish, and to watch Ally share and continue building relationships here. Her passion for the Father is evident despite the pragmatic obstacles here. She told me tonight that she’s here because the Father is not receiving the glory He is worthy of from this part of the world. Wow, perspective.

More on Istanbul

Today is Monday, October 16th, and we have been in Turkey since Friday. Let me catch up on what has happened:

From D.C.: Flight departure time: 5:18 p.m.

1:30 p.m. (all times in “ish”) – leave Medefinds' for Metro station
3:35 p.m.– arrive at Dulles airport via MetroBus (25 min. behind schedule)
3:45 p.m. – after being sent to the wrong line, arrive at correct check-in counter only to be told we’re too late to make the flight … hearts sink.
3:46 p.m. – agent realizes he misread the departure time and we CAN make the flight.
3:47 p.m. – agent’s printer jams.
3:57 p.m. – still at the counter, but reminded it could be worse: the girl behind us left her purse (yes, with credit cards, cell phone and passport) in her friend’s car that just dropped her off.
4:05 p.m. – Brooke is required to go through special screening. J takes his bags one direction, Brooke another.
4:15 p.m. – Jason and Brooke scramble to find each other in a security line of what is, no joke, more than 1,000 people deep.
4:45 p.m. – no way we’re going to make it through security in time. Encouraged to see if a United agent will walk us through.
4:46 p.m. – Brooke runs to opposite end of terminal to find United Rep. Rep. is frustrated and walks away mid-conversation, thankfully to return with a kind Supervisor who gives the nod.
4:50 p.m. – Brooke runs back across the terminal to get Jason out of line. J & B both run back to Supervisor (are you keeping track? Brooke has now run the length of this terminal THREE times!). And remember, there are THOUSANDS to navigate between. NEVER seen an airport so jammed before.
4:55 p.m. – walked through thanks to kind-hearted Supervisor. Split again for separate security checks. Brooke in line for special screening (aka puff air in your clothes and check EVERY compartment of your bag) – interesting and reassuring if you’re not watching your departure time tick closer.
5:10 p.m. – J&B both make it through security and end up on the same shuttle to our gate.
5:14 p.m. – arrive at Terminal C – gate is on opposite end. Start running again …
5:16 p.m. – arrive at gate, where agents say, “Miller?” (hmm, nice to be known) and we board as the doors close.
5:18 p.m. – we sit down, hold hands, and take off.

Only with God’s help did we make the plane. Strong reminder at the BEGINNING of this trip: all we can do is be along for the ride.

We arrived in Istanbul after a quick layover in Frankfurt. Ally met us with her friend Lisa and they drove us back through the city of Istanbul and across the Bosphorus via ferry to Ally’s pad, a 9th floor 3 bedroom apartment she shares with a roommate. The city is huge, estimates of 17-20 million people. The country is 99% Muslim . The city is split on 2 continents: Asia/Europe. Western culture and influence, predominantly materialism, shows itself everywhere. These are a proud people, passionate about their beliefs, religious and otherwise. Obviously a difficult place to encourage discussion. In the past 20 years they know approximately 2800 who have accepted Truth. 2800 out of 17-20 million. Success here is not determined by numbers.

Friday night we take a bus 45 min. across the bridge from Asia to Europe to meet friends for a birthday party. It is during the month of Ramadan; fasting during the day, eating only after the sun goes down. As the sun sets people move more purposefully to get home. Their “hunger” drives them to their homes (more on this later). After getting off the bus we attempt to get a cab, but no luck - 25 cabbies pass us and tell us no, they are going to eat. We finally get there. This part of Turkey catches you off guard. It looks like any major metropolitan area. Many shops, restuarants, cars, taxis, and people.

Saturday we slept for 13 hours. Finally we feel rested. Went to the largest “walmart” -esq store I have ever been in called Carrefor. Unbelievable the amount of stuff they had. Modern Istanbul seems obsessed with stuff. Tried a couple different Turkish foods, and so far I like them all. Food is good, price is better.

Ally … ah, she’s a strong girl. This is a tough world for her to be in. Tough for us to see someone we love in a hard world. Today she said something important – just because it’s hard doesn’t mean it’s bad. Though we can see her weariness, she is strong. Confident. Not in herself (though she is far better at Turkish than she gives herself credit for!), but strong in her purpose and calling here.

Sunday we went to their morning gathering. How good it is to worship with fellow believers. I talked with one of the guys there about the whole definition of success in this situation. He said “many come with grand ideas and they burnout fast. This is a slow place where only relationship breaks these barriers and then not often.” He compared it to China. “In China, everyone had open ears for truth but shied away from relationship. Here, everyone is open to relationship but shies away from truth.” I wonder if this isn’t what we in America are becoming? Open to people but closed to ideas outside of what we have pre-determined? Father I still don’t fully understand your will for Brooke and I both here and on the trip itself. I am afraid of a language I don’t understand, and a people who hate my background. Deliver me from fear. Give us purpose. Help us to really know you and your people.

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As Jason wrote a petition for deliverance from fear, I (Brooke) was journaling my very struggle with the same:

I am scared. Scared of being purposeless. Scared of not having anything to give. Scared of invading and being a burden rather than a blessing.

So I must again identify what is true, right, noble, etc. When Jason asked, my tongue was stuck – will my fingers do any better?

True … the Father never rejected anyone for feeling weak, lost, or broken.
Right … the broken who didn’t reject Him, either.
Noble … the battle for my heart.
Pure … the instruction to be on my knees. Why do I feel so inept in this so often?
Lovely … Jason’s tender care of me when I hit these battles.
Excellent … the hearts of those that have encouraged us in this endeavor.
Praiseworthy … that He is on the throne. There was a song about that at this morning’s gathering, and it’s chorus is reverberating in my head … want it to echo true in my heart as well.

Istanbul, Days 1 & 2

We're here! After a tremendous run-for-the-plane and make it within minutes (seconds, maybe?), we took off from Dulles on Thursday evening and arrived here in Istanbul on Friday.

Istanbul is a BUSY city. Fast, crowded, and a few times the sun has poked through the clouds to reveal the beautiful blue of the water. Despite our jet-lag, we are soaking up the time with Ally and loving just experiencing her world at her side ... and it's a crazy world. Ally has a beautiful apartment on the 9th floor overlooking a busy neighborhood on the Asian side of Istanbul. It's the middle of Ramadan here, so the early morning and late evenings are particularly busy as locals rush to/from their feasts in preparation for "fasting" throughout the day.

We'll definitely take the time to write more soon, but wanted to at least let you all know we made our first flight - even though just barely :).

Life with the Medefinds

We have been spoiled with grace as we've invaded the Medefind home here in D.C.. Jedd, Rachel, Siena & Marin have a beautiful home just a block south-east of the Capitol, so it's been a wonderful time of bouncing between visiting and sight-seeing. Best of all has been the time of fellowship and reflection, perhaps topped only by the time with their delightful girls. We were lucky enough to be invited into their world quickly and had such fun listening to Siena sing (JOYOUS spirit!) and watching Marin crawl around with a giggling smile. Check out the pictures ... you'll see why they have been so easy to fall in love with!

Contemplation

Yesterday provided many times of contemplation. We spent part of the day at Arlington Cemetery, which is sobering on so many counts. I read so many notes of the soldier’s deaths not being in vain and I wondered honestly if I could assent if it was my Jason, my Casey/Cory/Grant. That led me to think through the only guaranteed assent I could offer to know that life OR death could not be in vain: the one that is for the Father’s glory. As we walked the rows of tombstones I wondered what a cemetery of the martyrs would look like – if they were honored as our nation’s heroes are. How many miles and acres would they consume?

And earlier this week, amidst historical treasures of our nation’s history, we were fortunate enough to come upon the “Illumination of the Word” exhibit at the Library of Congress. It is a display of a hand-written and hand-illustrated copy of the Word – beautifully done, and a strong reminder to us of the most important history to be preserved and told. Nearly incomprehensible to think that the early pioneers of printing the Word in English lost their lives for taking that stand.

So, while wandering this beautiful Capitol and soaking in our young history, the Father has continued to prompt our minds to Him.

Deep and valuable conversations have been shared with our good friends Jedd & Rachel Medefind, furthering our heart’s preparation for this endeavor. Last night we were able to sit and go through our itinerary and hopes/ideas/questions for all that is to come, and it was so exciting to break away from the pragmatic planning and prepare to leave today with a renewed passion.

Leaving Denver

This has been a fun stop. Simple, mellow, awesome times of just catching up and sharing life. These girls have played such a significant role in my life that it's just right to start this trip with them.

Preparing to say goodbye always reminds me of the fears I have to re-submit to the Father. They tell me I'm brave. I tell them I'm stubborn.

Three lessons

We spent the last 2 days in Lafayette, Indiana. My (Jason’s) friend, Jeff, who I have grown up with basically my entire life, lives there and is trying to establish a church plant. Originally I assumed we were going to Indiana just to hang out, but if there is anything I have learned over the past few months of planning for this trip, it is that the Father’s sovereignty extends to everything. As it turns out I needed 3 things that this short stop provided.

First, I needed rest: emotional, spiritual, and physical. I slept at least 9 hours each night (Brooke slept 12 hours the first night, even through an intense mid-west thunderstorm!). We got to slow down and walk around Purdue University, hang out at a coffee shop, and try Indian cuisine at the Bombay restaurant. We played at the park with their kids, Charlie and Katie. We focused on one single family for the first time in a long time, and didn’t worry about planning and preparing.

Second, we got to baby-sit. Now that may sound odd to many of you that baby-sitting was somehow fulfilling to our world, but it signifies the purpose of our next nine months. Even here in the states we hope we were able to bring refreshment to His workers. They have been working on this church plant for about 8 months and don’t get a lot of alone time. SO we were thrilled to watch the kids (who are amazing, by the way) for an evening and give Jeff and Jen time together.

Third, we had a conversation the first night that has kept me thinking since. The question posed involved the inherent tension involved in living in the physical world, while living for spiritual significance. Specifically, what standard of results gives evidence of spiritual success within our current culture? It has been my tendency to harp on the modern day pervasiveness to use numbers as the ultimate standard of effectiveness and success. Such a standard seems cold, impersonal, and full of “look at us” arrogance. But if not numbers then what? What does the man who truly desires to live a life of significance do to understand the measure of his success? How should my friend know that he is being effective with the time and resources the Father has given him as this plant has not yet fully developed? How should I assess the work he has done before the Father? How will you assess the value of the trip Brooke and I are taking from the question of Kingdom significance?

I am interested to hear what some of your responses are. For me, at least at the moment I see a personal responsibility that may not result in corporate acknowledgement. We may be faithful to serve Him where he has called us, doing what he has asked us to do, and yet see no favorable response from it. Success may indeed be measured solely at times in the quietness of my own heart, regardless of the visible results. This is not to say that the outward manifestation of someone’s work is somehow unimportant, but that it may not be the most accurate indication of the success the Father desires. Take for instance many of the Minor Prophets doing His work and taking a beating for it. Or some of the small churches that may never grow physically across America, but have zeal, depth, and passion that is unmistakable yet are regarded lightly due to size alone.

I want this trip to be meaningful and significant within the Kingdom, and I believe these next 9 months will require a new standard to hold us accountable to. I believe we are currently seeking out this standard to give us direction within our trip. What about you? At the end of these 9 months what standard will you use to determine if your life has been lived significantly these past 9 months? Hopeful that each of us will live the life He has called us to diligently and fully ...

"Before"

Here you have it - the "before" going-around-the-world shot.

We left So. Cal. this morning for Indianapolis, where we're reuniting with Jason's lifetime friend Jeff Mikels and his family. They are in the process of planting a new fellowship in Lafayette, and as I (Brooke) write this, I can overhear the conversation below me and the heart-catch-ups. The lessons of the past few years, the encouragement of ongoing purpose, and reflection on our great Father.

Leaving today was very surreal. We would be lying if we said we felt prepared for all that is ahead, but we know the One who is.

Adjustment of the day: Separating ourselves from our cell phones! Odd because we're so used to immediate and unrestricted access to our friends and family. Sure it's only a tiny drop in a big bucket of adjustments away from our cozy lifestyle :).

Petition for the day: Wherever we are, to be all there.