friday and rugby and why we don't care

It's Friday!!

That means, well, nothing. But we're excited anyway.

We took Pastor Willie to the airport at 6am this morning to go to an outreach in Cape Town. Must be tough, ministering in paradise.

While at the airport, we saw lots of white people wearing green and gold heading into the international terminal. That can only mean one thing. The Rugby World Cup starts today in France and South Africa, among the world heavyweights in rugby, will have plenty of rich white fans in attendance.

The US Rugby team? Well, they're in the World Cup as well, actually in the same group as South Africa so they'll play each other soon. Here's a quick preview: Some guy will break his collarbone in the first five minutes. Another guy will run with a white ball and smash a couple of other guys in the face and then they'll tackle him, breaking his collarbone. This will go on for about 2 hours and then one team will win, celebrating by looking like they're in slightly less pain than the losing team. Now you know.

feed the children

I think we’ve mentioned before how we get to feed the kids of the local squatter camp a couple of times a week.

For such a mundane thing – simply handing out food to children – it has yet to lose its attraction. I don’t know that it ever will.

The children never get tired of it either. Throngs of dirty, little, half-clothed munchkins line up faithfully. They take their bowls of food and scurry off to start the glorious act of filling their empty bellies.

As they squat on the ground or sit on the curb, they scoop up the rice or the pap or the chicken or the porridge with their little hands and manage to get most of it into their mouths. After only a few minutes, the bowl has been cleaned out and the now satisfied, energized child brings it back to us. Usually, he runs off to chase a soccer ball strewn together with garbage. Usually, she skips away giggling with her friends.

Then, the whole thing sort of ends. We look at each other as the children wander off, as the empty bowls pile up, and as the children disappear. We don’t really smile. We just sort of make this deep eye contact. We remember that, amongst all of the things we are here to do, this simple thing can never be fully appreciated. It can’t even really be communicated, although I try.

The future for most of these children is bleak. They grow up in conditions that promote violence and selfishness, in a place that is crawling with alcoholism, drug-abuse, sexual-abuse, and disease. We have seen a few of these children go from childhood to adolescence and we have watched their innocence disappear. They quickly go from sweet, loving babies to bullying, stealing, lying teens. And one can’t blame them, the tougher you are the more you eat. If you can lie or cheat or steal your way into more food or someone else’s sweater, then you’re ahead.

Despite that, we love them for who they are and who they will inevitably become.

the weight of death

Death has an eerie weight.

Today is Wednesday and we are having our third funeral in as many days, which doesn’t count Ellen’s which was held in the homelands over the weekend.

The first funeral was for a 37 year-old mother of two small children, killed in a traffic accident.

Tuesday’s funeral was for a 52 year-old husband, father, and grandfather who was taken by cancer.


Today, we will help in the funeral of a 51 year-old man, from a very poor family…so poor that we have saved the wilting flowers from the first two funerals to use in his. So poor that we are going to make a donation so we can prepare bologna sandwiches for the family in place of the traditional meal that they would provide.

I have never been stung by death intimately. I have cried through some of Stef’s losses, but never lost a life-long friend, relative, or loved-one.

It seems to me that the casket must be heavy. I wonder if the weight shifts around, if the job of carrying that weight isn’t as difficult physically as it is emotionally. It seems heavy. It seems that it is the perfect representation of the hearts of those who carry that weight.

I will sit back today and watch another family grieve. I will try not to think too much about it all.

Monday, I saw the husband of the deceased weeping with his children. I would be broken too. Tuesday, I watched a son cry as his father was eulogized. I dread that day as well. Today, I will make eye contact with someone mourning the loss of their friend, their father, their brother, their lover. I will try to avoid thinking about it, but I will consider myself in that place one day. And like Monday and Tuesday, I will cry at the funeral of someone I hardly knew. And I will miss my family a little more. I will connect with my wife a little deeper. I will grow older with a little more caution and a lot more appreciation for those that I am thankful not to have lost just yet.

Mostly, though I am not sure why, I will think of my Dad. Love you, Dad. I can’t wait to hug you again. I can’t wait to tell you how much I appreciate you, how much I love you.

"i walk by here everyday"

Gotta tell you a story from the revival last week…

Like I mentioned earlier, we had 5 church services in 4 days, aimed at reviving the local church. For a church as small as Mayfair, it was a bit of a struggle.

We sometimes only have 40 people in a service, so to hope that we could find enough people to fill the seats for 5 straight days was a bit of a concern. And not that numbers matter, but we wanted the Canadian ministers to feel as if their time was wisely used.

Anyway, we had a couple of services at the beginning with large crowds, but they thinned out considerably on the weeknights.

Then, on Wednesday, God reminded us that He will draw in who He desires.

Stef and I were hanging out with David E White, our new favorite Canadian and a very talented singer/songwriter. He had finished giving me another little guitar lesson and Stef asked him to just play with her for awhile. So she sat and played piano while he played his guitar. They sang together and just enjoyed having time to be artists in God’s presence.

What was very simply a neat moment, a restorative moment of praise for Stef’s heart, quickly became much more.

We noticed a man sitting in the back row of the church, just listening. Eventually, he came to the front of the church and asked if David was the pastor. No, just a Canadian... The man looked for the words to speak what his heart was feeling.

Then he said it: “I was walking home. I walk by here everyday and I've never thought to stop. And today, I heard the most beautiful noise coming from this place. I asked someone inside where the voice was coming from. They pointed me in here. And I just had to hear this voice and this guitar…they’re beautiful.”

Stef and David explained that they would be playing more that night as part of the revival. They invited him. He looked excited, and told them that he would first have to run home to shower. He said he had to be presentable. Then he said that he had two friends that he had to go see – he said that they needed to come to the service as well.

He left. Stef and David simply smiled at each other. Wow.

Later that night the man, Schubert, came back with one of his friends.

We may never know exactly why he was drawn to sit in church that night. But we will never forget how he came to sit there.

God continues to amaze us.

diamonds are forever

I am a pretty positive person. I look at the glass half full. I am an idealist.

Maybe that’s why when I get down, I tend to really get down. Among my many character flaws, I tend to be inconsolable. Stef, bless her heart, is a compassionate wife. She is nurturing in a really neat way, actually. She rubs on my back and tells me that it’s all gonna be OK. She is amazing.

But, I have to imagine that it is frustrating consoling the inconsolable. I stew in my sorrow. I dwell on my despair. And no matter how sweet Stef is, I sort of have to allow myself to work through it.

This last week has been emotionally draining. We’ve been working long days dealing with the typical South African issues. For instance, our friend Ellen was buried this weekend and we are busy Monday and Tuesday with two more funerals for people in the church who have left us. On top of that we are watching our friend Andre die, waiting for the call to come from his mother. So, life can be heavy.

Still, all of that doesn’t really get me down. You know, death is sort of a certainty. So, I get that. But maybe that laid the foundation for what I saw on Saturday morning.

So there we were on Saturday, on the way to spending the day at the Groenpunt Maximum Security prison. About 10 minutes into our 2 hour drive to the prison, we passed an inconspicuous yet heavily fortified office complex. A very unassuming sign said, “Corporate Headquarters, De Beers Corporation - A Diamond is Forever.”

The De Beers world headquarters!! This is the company that controls about 60% of the world’s diamonds and for years had a complete monopoly. They have massive vaults where they keep the stones, only allowing so many out a year so they can keep the prices artificially high. (There are some great books out on the company, which is really fascinating. My favorite book on the topic is called Blood Diamonds. It would be worth your time.)

Not two minutes later, now on the highway, we passed the exit for Soweto, one of the largest, most impoverished, crime-ridden, AIDS-infested slums in the world. They live in squalor, in the shadow of one of the most secretive and most wealthy corporations on the planet.

And I was grieved. Deeply.

Why should some suffer as others so haughtily go about their way? And the picture of the diamond company having starving neighbors was nothing short of abhorrent in my heart.

Then I thought, “What if Christians began selling their diamonds? What if Christians simply replaced their stones with simple bands? What if Christians decided that the inequality was too much for them to stomach?"

Just imagine. A church with a 100 women that each had a diamond on their finger worth $1000 (a conservative estimate) could raise $100,000 just by selling off those diamonds. On a global scale, that $100,000 doesn’t go very far. It is a mere drop in the bucket. But you can be sure that it would radically transform at least a few communities.

Take the next step. Imagine a church with 500 women that each had a $2000 diamond on their finger (plus a few matching earrings or bracelets in their jewelry boxes). Those women would raise $1 million dollars. That could change the world in a much more noticeable way.

Now imagine an entire city catches the movement. We would be talking about tens of millions of dollars, if not more. (This occurs even as the local market for diamonds becomes saturated and prices begin to fall...just so you know I did think of such market forces.)

Now, hear me. I’m not trying to guilt anyone with diamonds into anything. If the idea to sell them in order to redistribute that wealth resonates and the Holy Spirit works, that’s your heart and your decision. We all have things that are unnecessary and we could all find another dollar for someone who needs it.

I was just struck by the proximity of the global diamond seller (who has manipulated and tricked their way into the hearts and pocketbooks of hundreds of millions of customers) to the ghetto with millions of unwashed, disease-infested people struggling to survive, or to find the will to survive at that.

Maybe someone more influential or powerful or persuasive than me will see what I saw and their heart will interpret the vision in another way. Maybe they will find a way to tell the story better. Maybe then we can escape the treadmill of want and experience a sliver of the joy that comes with sacrifice and selflessness. (Just to avoid sounding preachy, know that I am not there yet either, but I am learning to enjoy the fullness of giving...)

I am reminded of Ecclesiastes 4:

"Again, I observed all the oppression that takes place under the sun. I saw the tears of the oppressed, with no one to comfort them. The oppressors have great power, and their victims are helpless. So I concluded that the dead are better off than the living. But most fortunate of all are those who are not yet born. For they have not seen all the evil that is done under the sun.

Then I observed that most people are motivated to success because they envy their neighbors. But this, too, is meaningless—like chasing the wind."

I may not shake the sight from Saturday for awhile. But I am starting to feel better about it. I am starting to see the glass half-full again. Maybe we will make a difference. I pray that you hear my heart. We can make a change. It can start with the smallest thing. It can start with something as simple as selling a stone.

breaking news!!! our new roomie

OK people, breaking news.

We spent Saturday in prison, trying to be Jesus' love to the murderers and rapists of the Groenpunt Maximum Security prison. I think we'll talk more about that soon.

Anyway, when we got home, we met our new roomate. I think she said her name was Sister Sledge or something. She is pretty nice, but, well...

She is like 93 years old. Seriously. She is 4' 3", 26 lbs, and 93 years old. And I am only slightly exaggerating.

Here's the really great part: To really give her a warm welcome, Stef decided to walk in on Sister Sledge IN THE BATHROOM no less than 30 minutes after meeting her. Umm, awkward!! Stef blames Sister Sledge for not locking the door or having the light on. Only Stef...

The good news is, this new arrangement opens up all sorts of new pranks around the house. I'm thinking of picking up Sister Sledge in the middle of the night and putting her into our bed between Stef and I...imagine Stef's surprise in the morning! Or maybe we'll let her hide in Michael's closet all night dressed in glam-rock clothes and wearing KISS make-up and when he goes to get dressed in the morning - bam!! Got him. Should be fun.

Aren't you glad you know us?

(Disclaimer: Stef claims no responsibility for this post. I, Kyle, take full responisbility and want to make known that without Stef walking in on this kind, sweet and otherwise innocent woman in the bathroom, I would never have mentioned anything.)

we're back!!

- Sawubona We’re back from the technological grave. Brace yourselves, as we have had a long week that has left us a little bit delirious. We’ve collected a few of the random thoughts from the past week here. Good luck. And check back often. We’re ready to reconnect.

- The 2010 Soccer World Cup is going to be in South Africa. Beyond all of the worries about crime and transport infrastructure and hotel availability and other such things that go along with hosting the biggest sporting event in the world, there is another concern. Stadiums. In Cape Town, they’re still arguing over the site and the cost and here in Johannesburg, they’ve got nine cranes (and construction crews) working around the clock to completely remodel a local stadium so it will seat 100,000 people and have all of the amenities necessary for the most-watched television programs in the world. When the World Cup rolls around, don’t be surprised if there are MAJOR issues. I warned you.

- People often ask us what we miss the most from home. A veritable cornucopia of things comes to mind, but they all seem trivial so we won’t waste your time listing them out.

There is, however, one thing we didn’t realize that we missed until I noticed it recently. Freshly carbonated beverages. You know, like fountain drinks. Maybe it’s expensive to keep CO2 on hand all the time or maybe the fountain drink infrastructure (you didn’t even know there was a fountain drink infrastructure - Google it) just hasn’t reached the third world yet. I don’t know. But no matter where you go, you are given Coke here in a can or a bottle. No cup of overflowing, bubbling goodness, refillable on demand. You get a can of Coke, whether you’re at the corner store or the nicest steakhouse in town. Well, there is one exception. McDonalds, in their egalitarian mission to humbly supply the world with nutritious meals at fair prices (I’m delirious), has imported their own miniature fountain drink infrastructure and proudly serves freshly carbonated beverages at all of their fabulous establishments.

One morning, we snuck over to McDonalds for breakfast ($2 for the Sausage McMuffin with Egg combo meal) and, gasp, the fountain drink dispenser was broken. I would tell you more about but, well, the pain is just too recent.

Anyway, I bet you didn’t realize how much you like fountain drinks, freshly carbonated and fizzy wonderful. Imagine going to Pei Wei or Longhorn Cafe or Martha’s or Outback or Chicken Express or Burger King or Las Palapas or Freebirds or Taco Cabana or (insert your favorite place to consume freshly carbonated beverages here)... Imagine going there and ordering a Pepsi or a Sprite or a Coke or a Big Red or a Diet Dr Pepper and being handed a can. A can!! Three hundred and fifty milliliters (12 ounces) of joy, no doubt. But, how much greater the meal as your nose tingles when you take the first sip of your freshly carbonated beverage and the bubbles tickle your nose, nay, your heart.

So, people, please. Next time you thoughtlessly grab your Coke from the hardworking, clean-shaven, proper-English-speaking drive-thru attendant, think of us and the millions like us. Appreciate that fresh carbonation. Appreciate it and then drink in deeply.

- Spring has sprung in South Africa. Well, it’s trying anyway. Cherry blossom trees are blooming and roses are opening up to warmer days. The nights are still holding a nasty chill, but the days are much friendlier to us. Soon enough, it’ll be summer and we’ll be tanning it up while you Northies (that’s a derogatory word I just made up for people from the Northern Hemisphere) freeze through a nasty winter. Enjoy that.

- Speaking of summer, what are you doing for Christmas? We’re trying to organize a trip to Durban (yep, Google it), unofficially known as South Africa’s playground. We’re hoping to take a bus (like a Greyhound or something) with a few friends and spend Christmas together on the beach.

We laughed really hard when we were talking to our friend Michael about Christmas. We were asking him what people around here do and he was trying to explain it to us. I kept asking him about Santa Claus, trying to figure out if he wore swim trunks in South Africa or something. He said he’d never heard of Santa Claus. He said he’d never heard of Saint Nick. I explained Santa’s red coat, his bushy beard, his big belly... “Oh,” said Michael, “You mean Father Christmas!!!”

Of course, Father Christmas. (What?) It’s going to be an interesting Christmas.

- Speaking of Christmas (we’re on a roll now), Stef and I just spent Friday night watching Home Alone on our 12” computer screen. We don’t go out (ever) in the dark and shortly after the movie, we were reminded why. Two indistinguishable pops (gunfire) burst out very close to us here. It was close enough that, after the screaming and yelling calmed a little bit, I snuck my head out the door to see if I could spy on the action. I couldn’t see anything, but 15 minutes later, we heard some more gunshots, only this time a little further away.

To make things even more cozy in our little hideaway, out of the corner of my eye I noticed an intruder and leapt over the bed with a kleenex in hand and smashed the deadly/hungry/scary/smallish roach. Stef then claimed for the next 20 minutes or so that she could feel bugs on her skin. Oh, we’re living large!! Look for us on the next episode of MTV’s Cribs.

- Johannesburg is the melting pot of Africa. On top of the thousands of Zimbabwean refugees that illegally stream into South Africa everyday, we have people just in our little church here from Malawi, Angola, Nigeria, and an asylum-seeker from Burundi. Being an “outsider” is difficult. They often live 20 or 30 people to a house and they have virtually no rights as they have no proper identification and no means to get it. They don’t know the local languages any better than I do and they have absolutely no way to establish a legitimate life. It is surely a life I cannot even imagine.

- People sometimes ask what it is we would have them pray for or why we don’t sort of list out prayer and praise like traditional missionaries do. We might just be lazy. Really, I think we trust that those who are so inclined will read the needs and respond to their hearts’ call. So, if you are wondering, we’ll keep asking you to read between the lines and rely on the indwelling. By the way, we are touched that so many people would think of us throughout their day. Our prayer is that this blog (even the nonsense like today) would somehow enrich your life and give you a window into a larger world - maybe even that it would provide a way for people to introduce their friends to Jesus. We aren’t always the most accurate representation and we don’t write to that end, but we pray that His light shines through even our weakest moments.

- We got to spend a little more time with our new friend David E White (you did Google, him, didn’t you?). He came through right when we needed him. He encouraged and inspired and generally hooked us up with more than our share of good conversation and good advice. He is officially the greatest Canadian to ever live.

- Did you people ever see the documentary “Grizzly Man”? It was not as eye-opening as “An Inconvenient Truth” or as bewildering as “Who Killed the Electric Car”. It was not as heartbreaking “When the Levees Broke” or as maddening as “My Best Fiend”. (If you couldn’t tell, those were my recommendations for documentaries you should rent and see before you die...) “Grizzly Man” was simply the most fascinating look at the most fascinating man. Crazy, but fascinating. I think my dad still has nightmares about it. How did I get onto that topic....? Oh, probably thinking about Canada which is near Alaska which is where Grizzly Man was filmed. Go figure.

- Somebody mentioned to me that the Chicago Cubs were in first place. If they win the World Series while I am in Africa, you can officially consider my support of baseball to be over. (They’ve waited almost 100 years...what’s one more so I can see it?)

- Did I mention that we live in the scariest, dirtiest (OK, Nairobi is dirtier, but cut me some slack - we’re going for maximum hyperbole here!!), craziest, busiest, most dangerous city in the world? We hear lots of gunshots. We drink lots of diesel fumes. We ride on crazy taxis. We are really enjoying it all actually, as exhausting as it can be. But, it warrants mentioning that this place is absolutely bonkers.

- Do you remember that Meat Loaf song “Anything for Love”? Ya, umm, me neither. No, you do. If you don’t, spend a dollar on iTunes and then you’ll be in on the fun.

Anyway, when I was working at Starbucks, we used to play this game where one person would sing “I would do anything for love” and then the other person would ask some disgusting question like, “Would you eat a bowl of cow eyeballs covered in toenails?” to which the other person would answer (singing just like Meat Loaf) “No, I won’t do that.” That was always how it went. Basically, the idea was to ask the most horrifying question possible. Now you know.

- I haven’t gotten any “you offended me” emails yet. That either means that our audience doesn’t extend past our mothers or that I haven’t had enough time to ramble. Don’t worry. We’ll get there.

- Our friend Andre is dying of cancer. We sort of share an office with him at the church, although he hasn’t been there in a while. We’ve been to see him a couple of times and he is not doing well at all. Beyond the help of doctors or medicine, he is dying at home in the care of his mother... We’ll talk more about him when it feels right.

- So, remember how I said we like soccer now? Well, that wasn’t a joke. We looked into buying some tickets for the boys who live at the Mission House to an upcoming Kaizer Chiefs game. I am told they cost about R20 each. That’s about $3 per ticket. $3? Seriously?

This gets me thinking. What must the players get paid? I expect that we’ll attend a game and afterwards, they’ll cart a chicken coop onto the field. Then, they’ll open the coop and let a dozen or so chickens out onto the field and the exhausted players will scramble around trying to catch them. Anything you catch, you keep. I think that must be how they pay the players. I'm pretty sure actually. :)

- I’ve been having a really good time the last week or so turning all of the Aggie jokes I know into African jokes. Like this one:

A Tswana, a Sotho, and a Zulu are going to the desert. (Remember that the Zulu represents the Aggie...)

They are sitting around talking about what they are bringing to the desert, you know, to sustain them on the harsh trip.

The Tswana says, “I’m bringing water so we have something to drink when we get thirsty.” The others nod in approval, obviously impressed.

The Sotho says, “I’ll bring food so we can have something to eat when we get hungry.” The others smile and nod, again impressed with their friend.

Finally, the Zulu says, “I’m going to bring a car door.”

Perplexed, his friends ask, “Why would you bring a car door?”

Confident, the Zulu then answers, “So when it gets hot we can roll down the window.”

(Oh, the locals love making fun of the Zulus.)

- We’re glad to have the internet back. I wish you could say you felt the same. Stay tuned this week as we already have posts lined up for every day of the week.

Darkness into Light...