warning...graphic content...short fiction...about a real event.
"He must increase and I must decrease"...those words had felt so right, so brave, so true. But as John sat alone in the dark those words were now fading as quickly as the day light from the narrow gap at the bottom of his cell door.
John had been sitting in jail now for almost a year. All of those who had looked to him as a spiritual leader and mighty prophet had diminished to two, the same two that he had figured were the two most likely to walk away. While he was still free he was not sure if they were followers or stragglers. But now there they were, week after week speaking to him through that narrow space at the bottom of the door.
That space had become his only connection to the world outside. His food came through that space, light came in through that space, voices came through that narrow gap the width of the door.
The tiny cell was more than torture to a man who had lived most of his adult life in the desert with the sky the limit, the wind in his beard and the taste of honey in his mouth. His conscience now questioned his memory. "Was that him, was it all a dream, is this a nightmare?" You know what it's like to wake from a dream and not be quite sure if it was a dream or reality? John was not sure if he ever woke up or if he ever went to sleep, he just knew that either way the nightmare never ended.
These two disciples had been his last contact with the one who must increase. The little bit of hope Jesus' message had brought to John, was now of little consolation. Darkness takes a lot out of a man.
John had no idea if it was day or night when he heard the guards at the door. Had he dozed off for a moment or night? He did know that the light from the torch was brighter than he could remember it being. For an instant a memory flashed of him sitting by a fire and the flames dancing with the evening breeze and the feeling of contentment that a warm fire can bring.
That glimmer was quickly shattered by the guards as they reached in and drug John into the passage way. The guards let their disgust be known as they got a whiff of the disgusting odor that filled the cell and clung to John as he lie on the ground. The guards could hardly believe that the frail body and matted hair belonged to the mighty John the Baptizer. The men could feel the frail flesh and bone as they lifted him to his feet to make their trip out of the dungeon.
You probably have no idea the level of atrophy that can happen to a man trapped in a cell the size of small walk-in closet for almost a year.
Even disoriented and weak by his abrupt departure from his cell, John had no delusions about what was going on. He had imagined this moment. He had hoped for a little dignity. Early on he had dreamed of Jesus actually setting him free somehow. But he knew what was happening, deep down he always knew it would.
The last words John heard was the guard whispering into his ear, "Herodias said "to let you know this was the happiest night of her life." The last thing he heard was the sound of the knife coming out of its sheaf. The last think he felt was the cold steeled tearing at the flesh of his neck.
But no one can imagine what John experienced next.
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Five Days in Bolimbar, Burkina Faso 2010
Here is a very rough and sketchy account of the week...
Saturday...1:00pm local. We had been traveling for about forty eight hours with a 12 layover in Casablanca.
It was in the nineties and we were beat. We set up our tents and tried to rest a little...it was so hot we could not rest...we hung out until supper and when it finally got dark it cooled off enough for us to be able to get in our tents and rest...I was down for the count by eight o'clock...by God's grace it cooled off during the night. In fact it was chilly by sunrise on Sunday morning.
Sunday morning was beautiful. The service began around 9:00 and we had a great worship experience. I spoke in the service and God blessed the gospel. Some people responded.
After lunch we opened the clinic for a couple of hours to treat a few dozen people...it's a little like a trial run to see what happens and what needs tweaking.
I fully expected to be involved in Malaria treatment...I have a passion for it for obvious reasons. (In case you do not know I came back from Africa last January and became deathly ill with Malaria and or Dengue Fever.) After having raised so much money for treatments I just anticipated being involved in that part of the ministry... However, God had a different plan.
Quite by default I found myself in wound care with a couple of our ladies (Angela a nurse and Deanna a volunteer). All I know is that before I could come up with an excuse to get out of it I was holding the limbs of people with the most awful looking sores you can imagine. Almost everyone we treated had some kind of crater shaped sore. The sore descends through all the layers of skin into the flesh. They ranged in size from a pea to a couple of inches across. A few of them even larger.
The God-side of this is that I am usually very squeamish when comes to any kind of sore or wound.
So as I found myself serving in wound care I prayed daily for God to give me power to be strong and able to serve no matter what I saw. Believe me when I tell you He gave me strength because I am not comfortable posting the pictures of what I saw and helped treat.
We closed up shop around five Sunday afternoon and returned to our camp. Dinner was soon served and showers were had. When I say shower I really mean pour. Before we arrived they had built mud block shower stalls for us. Crude cement floors with mud brick and mortar walls. We used a large cup to dip water from a bucket and poured over our bodies as a means of washing. The biggest drawback was that if you leaned against the wall with a wet hand it came away dirty...so balance while pouring was a must.
Because of all the elements of our environment and circumstances most of us were ready for bed by around eight o'clock every night. I'm not sure I made it past 7:30 that first night.
We awoke Monday morning to a beautiful sunrise and temperatures somewhere around 65 degrees. Each morning we would meet at 7:30 for group devotions. The American team would offer a song of worship and then the African partners would offer one. Then a member of our team either American or African would share a devotional thought and then others would offer comments and insights. It was a great experience each morning.
Each morning my responsibilities include a morning message to those who gather at the clinic for the preaching service. Monday morning was hard. I thought I had a great introduction prepared only to find out that I had miss understood the interpreter about an illustration and started with something about which no one from the village had a clue...so in the midst of trying to recover it all went pretty flat. But when things go flat you just move on and we did.
That day we treated dozens of people both in the clinic and wound care. Did I mention I don't do blood and gore? Each wound had to be scrubbed so that it would bleed again and then we would apply an antiseptic of some kind and bandage it. I held feet and legs and hands and arms while Angela scraped. Deanna prepared bandages and supplies for the patient to take home with them to redress their wound.
We would work all morning. At mid-day we ate lunch and then redirected for a while. The girls engaged in ministry to the children in crafts and stories and I would assist in various other places or try to take pictures of what was going on around us.
Each afternoon we would treat wound until around 3:00. At which time the Sun would have reach a point that exposed us to the direct assault of the afternoon sun. We would then pick up the benches and supplies and move to the opposite side of the building. We did that each afternoon. There is one thing you cannot compete with and that is the Sun in the sub-Sahara climate of Burkina Faso.
Tuesday Morning was again Sunny and chilly...up at six, coffee and oatmeal, devotion at 7:30, service at 9:30...every morning between the time I woke up and the devotion time began a big decision had to made...what would the sermon be?
Each morning I was all ears trying to hear what God was saying to me. What experience of the moment or the day before would he call to mind?
Tuesday morning he brought to mind the shrinking moon that I had observed the night before and so talked about the brevity of life and that we had been called to do one thing and that was give glory and honor to God by confessing the Jesus was Lord... I read Hebrews 9:11-14 and shared three things...Jesus came from a greater place...He did a greater work...and that Jesus could do us a greater good.
The day before a woman who was wearing a fetish, a necklace that she thought would help her eyesight. I told them that even if the fetish did her good her eyes would still close in death and that then, only Jesus could help her. About a dozen people came forward in the invitation.
The rest of that day was treating sores and wounds and pain...as much as any where I have ever been or seen...these people live in pain.
Wednesday morning I talked about our wounds and read from Hebrews 2:1-4. I shared that we all start out with wounds that get progressively worse. That much of what we suffer is not the act of God or demon but simply the consequences of our own choices. The final point was that we have a healer in Jesus Christ...he can heal our heart wounds.
What made this morning special was that I did not have my strong partner and interpreter Patrice. Because we had lost our transportation out of the bush he had to go negotiate new arrangements...needless to say we were praying for him! However with him gone I had to rely upon a much less experienced translator. He was petrified with having to try and keep up with me...I was worried that he would struggle to such a point that there would be no continuity in my thoughts and his translation...so we prayed...everyone prayed. The word was shared, the invitation given and more people came forward that morning than any other morning... when we live in a place where the need is God sized...God fills the space!
Wednesday morning was the morning that we met Adia. She is between 6 and 8 years old. Somehow she had fallen into the fire and burned the back of both thighs. She lay silent and motionless while we treated her. We gave her liquid Motrin, a shot of antibiotics and used a syringe barrel to let her sip water from a cup. She was the most pitiful sight I have ever seen in person. She was the bravest little soul on the planet!
Thursday morning was the beginning of the last day. Again God gave me an opening illustration about that was perfect...Joshua had made friends with a little boy. The little boy wanted to do everything that Josh did...it was so cute...I used Philippians 2:9-11 to teach that we have been created to imitate God. I shared four things...We were created in the image of God...we were created to imitate God: lift Jesus above everything, we are called to bow and confess the Lordship of Jesus...my final call was to not see us as anything but that they should give glory to God for the good they had received. While I preached God put a young man in a red hat on my heart...I went to him after the service, shared the gospel and he prayed with me to confess Christ. When I saw him later you could see in his countenance that something had changed...it was amazing.
Well if you have seen the video blog the rest of trip is pretty lame...packing, traveling, getting lost in the capital city because our bus driver refused to go fast enough to keep up with the lead car...not to mention he spoke only French and none of us on the bus could speak French...it was hilarious! But obviously we made it back.
Well this has gone so much longer than I wanted it too, but how do you cover so much in so little space. Thanks for reading. Please keep us in your prayers.
m.m.x.
kenn
Saturday...1:00pm local. We had been traveling for about forty eight hours with a 12 layover in Casablanca.
It was in the nineties and we were beat. We set up our tents and tried to rest a little...it was so hot we could not rest...we hung out until supper and when it finally got dark it cooled off enough for us to be able to get in our tents and rest...I was down for the count by eight o'clock...by God's grace it cooled off during the night. In fact it was chilly by sunrise on Sunday morning.
Sunday morning was beautiful. The service began around 9:00 and we had a great worship experience. I spoke in the service and God blessed the gospel. Some people responded.
After lunch we opened the clinic for a couple of hours to treat a few dozen people...it's a little like a trial run to see what happens and what needs tweaking.
I fully expected to be involved in Malaria treatment...I have a passion for it for obvious reasons. (In case you do not know I came back from Africa last January and became deathly ill with Malaria and or Dengue Fever.) After having raised so much money for treatments I just anticipated being involved in that part of the ministry... However, God had a different plan.
Quite by default I found myself in wound care with a couple of our ladies (Angela a nurse and Deanna a volunteer). All I know is that before I could come up with an excuse to get out of it I was holding the limbs of people with the most awful looking sores you can imagine. Almost everyone we treated had some kind of crater shaped sore. The sore descends through all the layers of skin into the flesh. They ranged in size from a pea to a couple of inches across. A few of them even larger.
The God-side of this is that I am usually very squeamish when comes to any kind of sore or wound.
So as I found myself serving in wound care I prayed daily for God to give me power to be strong and able to serve no matter what I saw. Believe me when I tell you He gave me strength because I am not comfortable posting the pictures of what I saw and helped treat.
We closed up shop around five Sunday afternoon and returned to our camp. Dinner was soon served and showers were had. When I say shower I really mean pour. Before we arrived they had built mud block shower stalls for us. Crude cement floors with mud brick and mortar walls. We used a large cup to dip water from a bucket and poured over our bodies as a means of washing. The biggest drawback was that if you leaned against the wall with a wet hand it came away dirty...so balance while pouring was a must.
Because of all the elements of our environment and circumstances most of us were ready for bed by around eight o'clock every night. I'm not sure I made it past 7:30 that first night.
We awoke Monday morning to a beautiful sunrise and temperatures somewhere around 65 degrees. Each morning we would meet at 7:30 for group devotions. The American team would offer a song of worship and then the African partners would offer one. Then a member of our team either American or African would share a devotional thought and then others would offer comments and insights. It was a great experience each morning.
Each morning my responsibilities include a morning message to those who gather at the clinic for the preaching service. Monday morning was hard. I thought I had a great introduction prepared only to find out that I had miss understood the interpreter about an illustration and started with something about which no one from the village had a clue...so in the midst of trying to recover it all went pretty flat. But when things go flat you just move on and we did.
That day we treated dozens of people both in the clinic and wound care. Did I mention I don't do blood and gore? Each wound had to be scrubbed so that it would bleed again and then we would apply an antiseptic of some kind and bandage it. I held feet and legs and hands and arms while Angela scraped. Deanna prepared bandages and supplies for the patient to take home with them to redress their wound.
We would work all morning. At mid-day we ate lunch and then redirected for a while. The girls engaged in ministry to the children in crafts and stories and I would assist in various other places or try to take pictures of what was going on around us.
Each afternoon we would treat wound until around 3:00. At which time the Sun would have reach a point that exposed us to the direct assault of the afternoon sun. We would then pick up the benches and supplies and move to the opposite side of the building. We did that each afternoon. There is one thing you cannot compete with and that is the Sun in the sub-Sahara climate of Burkina Faso.
Tuesday Morning was again Sunny and chilly...up at six, coffee and oatmeal, devotion at 7:30, service at 9:30...every morning between the time I woke up and the devotion time began a big decision had to made...what would the sermon be?
Each morning I was all ears trying to hear what God was saying to me. What experience of the moment or the day before would he call to mind?
Tuesday morning he brought to mind the shrinking moon that I had observed the night before and so talked about the brevity of life and that we had been called to do one thing and that was give glory and honor to God by confessing the Jesus was Lord... I read Hebrews 9:11-14 and shared three things...Jesus came from a greater place...He did a greater work...and that Jesus could do us a greater good.
The day before a woman who was wearing a fetish, a necklace that she thought would help her eyesight. I told them that even if the fetish did her good her eyes would still close in death and that then, only Jesus could help her. About a dozen people came forward in the invitation.
The rest of that day was treating sores and wounds and pain...as much as any where I have ever been or seen...these people live in pain.
Wednesday morning I talked about our wounds and read from Hebrews 2:1-4. I shared that we all start out with wounds that get progressively worse. That much of what we suffer is not the act of God or demon but simply the consequences of our own choices. The final point was that we have a healer in Jesus Christ...he can heal our heart wounds.
What made this morning special was that I did not have my strong partner and interpreter Patrice. Because we had lost our transportation out of the bush he had to go negotiate new arrangements...needless to say we were praying for him! However with him gone I had to rely upon a much less experienced translator. He was petrified with having to try and keep up with me...I was worried that he would struggle to such a point that there would be no continuity in my thoughts and his translation...so we prayed...everyone prayed. The word was shared, the invitation given and more people came forward that morning than any other morning... when we live in a place where the need is God sized...God fills the space!
Wednesday morning was the morning that we met Adia. She is between 6 and 8 years old. Somehow she had fallen into the fire and burned the back of both thighs. She lay silent and motionless while we treated her. We gave her liquid Motrin, a shot of antibiotics and used a syringe barrel to let her sip water from a cup. She was the most pitiful sight I have ever seen in person. She was the bravest little soul on the planet!
Thursday morning was the beginning of the last day. Again God gave me an opening illustration about that was perfect...Joshua had made friends with a little boy. The little boy wanted to do everything that Josh did...it was so cute...I used Philippians 2:9-11 to teach that we have been created to imitate God. I shared four things...We were created in the image of God...we were created to imitate God: lift Jesus above everything, we are called to bow and confess the Lordship of Jesus...my final call was to not see us as anything but that they should give glory to God for the good they had received. While I preached God put a young man in a red hat on my heart...I went to him after the service, shared the gospel and he prayed with me to confess Christ. When I saw him later you could see in his countenance that something had changed...it was amazing.
Well if you have seen the video blog the rest of trip is pretty lame...packing, traveling, getting lost in the capital city because our bus driver refused to go fast enough to keep up with the lead car...not to mention he spoke only French and none of us on the bus could speak French...it was hilarious! But obviously we made it back.
Well this has gone so much longer than I wanted it too, but how do you cover so much in so little space. Thanks for reading. Please keep us in your prayers.
m.m.x.
kenn
Monday, December 7, 2009
A Different Christmas Poem
A Different Christmas Poem
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear..
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always
remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.."
" So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq
The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.
The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear..
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door just to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.
A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"
For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."
"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gramps died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always
remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.
Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall.."
" So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."
LCDR Jeff Giles, SC, USN
30th Naval Construction Regiment
OIC, Logistics Cell One
Al Taqqadum, Iraq
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