Author: Me-n-Jesus

Thanks for the Tire!!

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{Here it is, folks. I finally got it here. Actually, this will be it’s second post. First one went to my old blog. NO – I won’t tell you it’s name! This was actually written at least 2 weeks ago. It’s been so long I’ve forgotten!}

I’ve been nursing a slow leaking tire all winter. During the frigid, frigid cold, I was putting air in it twice a week. The regular cold of winter just necessitated air once a week, and once it started to warm up, every other week was fine. Until last week…

Friday, after work, I stopped to get air because it had been awhile. It was down to 12 pounds of pressure when it should be at 32. That’s not good. So, the wonderful guys at Discount Tire, where I go, filled things up all around and I was on my way. I stopped to shop at Aldi on the way home and when I got out of the car, I heard it. There was a hissing sound and the tire was visibly lowering. I grabbed my few items and beats feet for home. The tire was completely flat before I got there, but I nursed it to my neighbor’s house.

My neighbor, Rich, and his son Josh, rebuild cars. They have a fully outfitted garage. They had my tire changed in a jiffy. They have helped me out with other things as well. Rich is a great neighbor. So, here I was with a little donut spare tire on my car and at least 40 miles to drive before I had opportunity to get back to Discount Tire. I drove cautiously and carefully, and made it back to Discount Tire on Saturday after work. Then the fun began!

It was a beautiful day, and very busy at Discount Tire. Everyone and their brother decided it was time to get things fixed because it was so nice out. I waited patiently in line while those ahead of me were taken care of. Finally, my turn came and I explained the tale of repeated fillings which culminated in the total flat the day before. We went out to my car and took the offending tire out of the trunk. While Rich and Josh checked the usual places, finding nothing, assumed that it just lost it’s seal and would simply need to be re-mounted. NOT SO! On the back side of the tire there was a tear, nearly an inch long in the sidewall of the tire. I don’t know, but I’m atributing it to the MASSIVE dip in the road in an area of construction that simply caused it to pop on my last trip over. (I know that sounds weird, but I know what I really mean. It’s really more involved and complicated than that.) But, what it boiled down to is I needed to replace the tire.

The young man who was taking care of me told me that to replace the tire with a similar type and quality would cost about $140. Since I’m looking for a new car now, I really don’t want to put money into this car is I don’t need to. I explained all of this to him and told him I would be okay with a used tire or a re-tread or anything else that wouldn’t cost me $140. He said, “Let me go check some things.” He was gone for about 5 minutes, then came out to the waiting room and started typing on the computer. He typed, I struggled to keep my mouth shut, thinking that he was typing an invoice for something that I wasn’t sure I wanted because I didn’t know how much it would cost. Then he printed it out, and I still struggled, but managed to keep my mouth closed. He brought the invoice around the counter to me and I looked at it. And I looked. And my eyebrows furrowed and I looked again, trying to find the bottom line number in all the stuff that was printed on the page. He finally circled the number for me because I couldn’t find it.

Folks, in case you hadn’t figured out yet that I love Discount Tire, I’ll tell you now, straight out, I LOVE DISCOUNT TIRE!! I had to do a double take when I looked at the circled number. It was $00.00 That’s right, I got a different tire, mounted, balanced and put on my car for nothing! I have had 2 flats fixed, air checks and fills for the last year, and now a new to me tire and I have yet to pay them a single penny. These guys have done incredible things for me. One of the days in the winter, when I woke up to a nearly flat tire, I went to the shop. They don’t open until 8am. I had to be to work at 8am. They opened up the door and filled my tire early so I could get on my way. They are forthright, appear to be honest and above board, clean cut, hard working, all the right things in a company. I “almost” can’t wait until I need tires so I can buy them there.

Just wanted to put this little tidbit out there to let you know that there are still places that believe in treating their customers right. If they keep treating me like this, they have a customer for life!!

Learning More Every Day

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I knew there had to be a way. And I finally figured it out. Now I don’t have to worry about how to get content off of the tablet word processor and into some form, place, format, someTHING to get it to post online. I knew there had to be a way to write right in WordPress in an offline mode, and today I found it. Unfortunately, that is one of the benefits of being sick. There’s actually time to figure out things that you don’t normally have the time to work through. So now, I have no excuse for not posting. I can write whenever I want, and then post when I get to a wifi area.

I love being inn learning mode, even when I’m not sick. Hmmmmm. That doesn’t sound quite right, but I think you know what I mean. I just love learning. I always have. It’s a great, cheap thrill when I get that “AH HA! moment.” There’s a special satisfaction that comes when you finally figure out something that you’ve been trying to figure out for quite some time. Or the general pleasure that comes from the continuous learning mode of taking a class. It’s all good. I love it all.

And I’ve been in learning mode again as I’ve moved on to my next class at Berean School of the Bible. This class is an overview of the life of Christ as written about in the synoptic gospels. (The synoptic gospels are Matthew, Mark and Luke. Though they are written to different audiences, they are similar in the way they are written, detailing the things Jesus did. John is a bit different, dealing more with theology. John wrote later, from his exile on the island of Patmos, having more time to reflect over the events of his time spent with Jesus.) I’ve been praying about a topic to write about here, to again fulfill my class requirement. So far there has been no specific theme recommend itself like there was for Old Testament Survey. But there’s been so much to learn. Jesus said and did so much. It’s really amazing. John even says at the end of his gospel, “Now there are also many other things that Jesus did. Were every one of them to be written, I suppose that the world itself could not contain the books that would be written.” (John 21:25 ESV).

That is such an awesome thought, a world full of books! It makes me think of an old Twilight Zone episode. Burgess Meredith plays a meek banker who loves to read. He’s reading all the time. His wife bullies him, his boss and co-workers bully him, everyone makes fun of him for reading so much. One day he goes to the bank’s vault to read during his lunch break. While he’s in there, the then feared atomic war happens, but he’s protected by the vault. He comes out to a completely devastated world. He wanders aimlessly through the rubble until he happens upon the library. Books upon books upon book, and no one left around to bully or disturb his reading. With glee, he starts lining the books up on the steps of the library, stacking them up in anticipation of uninterrupted reading. He sits, leans forward to pick up the first book, and his glasses fall off, hit the ground and break. The final scene is him sitting there crying, muttering, “It’s not fair. It’s not fair.”

Time Flies!

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OK, folks, I thought that I’d be posting about once a week. And I still think I’ll get there, but this is harder to stick with than I thought. So far, it’s not about having something to write about. It’s about actually doing it! It’s about being in a position to get it done.

I have a whole post written, but I did it in the word processor on my tablet. I did it 2 weeks ago. And there it sits. My wifi went out at home, so I wrote in the processor while I could, figuring I’d get wifi back up and send it. But wifi isn’t back up. And I’m not sure how to fix it. So I figured I’d put it to a memory stick and copy it to the desk top. But no, the tablet is not recognizing the memory stick. (Yes, I dropped the tablet, but it didn’t hit hard!) So now I’m not sure what to do, so, just to keep something out there for you, to keep you all interested, and just to do SOMETHING!, I’m writing this drivel and actually enjoying it. Hope you do too!

In the meantime, I’ve decided to schedule a regular time to write. I’ll be starting that next week, so I’m hoping you will see some good results from that. I’m blocking out 2 hours to write. I may make some adjustments to that as I see how things shake out. Some weeks may be more time, some less. Depends on what I’m writing and how much research it requires as well. So, for right now, I’m not telling you what day I have this time blocked out, so that if I don’t do it, you won’t be upset. And, as soon as I figure it out, I’ll get that other, completed post up. It’ll be worth the wait. It’s a good story!

 

 

Tanzania to Texas – Part 2

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So now we’ve fast forwarded 5 years, and I’m getting ready to head to Tanzania for my own trip. Steve, the leader of the trip is the same guy who lead the team when Scott went. And Steve is just full of stories about his past trips to Tanzania, especially the trip with Scott.

If you’ve never been out of the country, it can be quite an experience. We, here in the U. S. really have NO idea how good we really have it. We can say we get it, but until we actually see how most of the rest of the world lives, we really don’t get it. In fact, here’s a rabbit trail for you to follow. There’s a website called globalrichlist.com Check them out. You enter your annual income and they tell you what percentile you are in the richest people in the WORLD! Pastor Scott, (yes, they same Pastor Scott who was talking right to me that first Saturday night service), used this website in one of his sermons. It’s really quite an eye opener. I’ve popped in to the site off and on over the last several years, seeing how I’ve progressed up the ladder of economic success. I haven’t done it for a couple of years, now, and this trip was humbling to say the least. I and my co-workers will quite often complain about our salary at the job we do, and for the job we do, in the environment we do it, in this country, compared to comparable jobs in other locations, in this country, we really are underpaid, BUT… When I plugged in my salary from last year, (though I did work some substantial overtime hours), I came out being in the top 1/2 percent of the richest people in the world! There are LESS THAN 30,000,000 people richer than me, IN THE WHOLE WORLD! I have NO right to complain about ANYTHING!

Okay, back to the experience of being out of the country. When you go on a trip to a place where most of the people make only about a dollar a day, (YES, I typed that correctly – just one dollar per day!), it can be a bit overwhelming. Everything you see and do is a new experience. And according to Steve, with every new experience, Scott would rub his hand over his crew cut hair and exclaim, “I can’t believe I’m in Africa, man!” Everywhere they went, everything they did, every new thing they saw, “I can’t believe I’m in Africa, man!”

Well! With the relationship I’d had with Scott for several years, now, and Steve being an excellent videographer, we really couldn’t help ourselves. Since I usually wear my hair fairly short anyway, I had gotten it cut extra short for the trip to make care easier while we were there. I was a natural! We filmed clips of me imitating Scott in all sorts of different situations! It was quite a lot of fun, and even more fun when we got home and played the clip for him. (I’m sorry, even though I’m richer than 99.5 % of the world, I’m not rich enough to pay for video privileges on my blog!) 6248_1169738771136_5375091_n But here is a still photo of me doing one of the clips, sans head rub. You can probably tell that the kids of Kiziba village have NO CLUE what I’m saying or why I’m saying it, but they are very curious about this muzungu (white – I think I have the spelling right) woman and what she’s doing.

And all this story, now, earlier than planned because Scott came to my work last week and dropped a bomb on me. It’s nothing truly devastating. In the overall scheme of things it’s really no big deal. But it broke my heart. He and his wife are moving away. Yes, to Texas, how’d you guess!? It’s not like we have really stayed all that close. We don’t hang out anymore, since I quit going to the bar. (Yes, yet another story for yet another day!) I’ve moved on to a different church. But we are still family in the eyes of God. Scott and Marilyn are my brother and sister in Christ. They were there for me during a really tough period in my life, and got me through A LOT! It just hurts to know that they won’t be just up the road anymore.

Scott, Marilyn, you have been great friends. I know you will continue to be, though from a distance. I will miss your presence very much. Love ya!

Tanzania to Texas – Part 1

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Sorry it’s been longer than I’d planned between writings. I was studying for my final. But I’m back now. And I had said in an earlier post that I’d tell you the “I’m in Africa, man,” story later. I had thought it would be later than this, but something’s come up and I think now would be an appropriate time.

It all started in the Spring of 2004. (WOW! just realized it’s been 10 years! What a long, strange trip it’s been!) I was sitting at the bar when a friend, Scott, came in and started talking about going on a trip to Africa. He was in a quandary because they told him he needed to fund raise 1/3 of the cost of the trip. He said he could afford the whole amount on his own and felt bad asking people for money to pay for his “vacation.” “How do I do it, anyway?” he asked me.

I had just completed a fund raising effort for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society, so I told him, “Make yourself up a letter and talk to EVERYONE you meet about what you’re doing. You never know when someone may slide a five down the bar and say, here, take this with you.” As I said it, I actually did slide a five down the bar to him. He laughed and said, “Yeah, I get it,” as he slid the five back to me. “But Scott, you never know when someone may slide a five down the bar to you and say ‘Here, take this with you.'” Again, he said, “Yeah, I get it,” as he slid it back to me. “NO, SCOTT, you never know when someone will slide a five down the bar and say “HERE TAKE THIS WITH YOU!”” He finally got the message and took my $5.

When he got home, I was the only one at the bar who wanted to know about what he really did while he was in Tanzania. Each time he tried to tell me, we’d get interrupted by someone asking if he saw elephants or monkeys. This went on for a few weeks and was getting quite annoying. (I did, however, get the story of how my $5 paid for a “female operation” for one of the women in the area. Yes, that’s right, just $5 paid for the entire procedure!) Finally, one day, Scott came in and as we were having the conversation, or the attempt at conversation, he told me that his church was having a free spaghetti dinner that Saturday and he was going to talk about his trip. I refused because I didn’t do church. There was no way he was getting me in those doors. We’d get around, eventually, to getting the story out at the bar. We tried again, and just as he was getting into it, someone ELSE came and asked about elephants and monkeys. I gave in. After all, it was just dinner and his story, uninterrupted, right!?!

So, Saturday I went to his house and got in the car with him and his wife, and off we went. It felt REALLY strange walking in to this place. But, there was no major earthquake and fire didn’t burst forth from the bowels of the earth as I entered. It was just like walking into any other building. But! Once we were there, once I was trapped with no way to escape, he dropped the other shoe – right on my head! “Oh, by the way, we have a Saturday night service and Pastor Scott is going to speak first.” Many unkind words, sprinkled liberally with expletives swirled in my head, but I was inside a church (semi-voluntarily for the first time in 40 years) so I couldn’t say any of them. I’m sure the look I gave Scott told him what I was thinking!

There I was, in the sanctuary of a church, sitting through a church service that I had no desire to sit through. And then it happened, just as Scott said it would, even though more expletives swirled through my head when he said it. “Don’t worry, Pastor Scott is really cool and you’re going to think he’s talking right to you.” And so he was. He was talking to me and he was making direct eye contact and his words were shooting into me and straight into my heart. And the tears started flowing, and my heart was breaking. To this day I could not tell you what he was actually talking about, but I know it was meant just for me. And afterward, we ate and Scott talked about Tanzania, and people and names and faces spun around me and it was all a big whirlwind.

All I really knew after that was that I had to go back there again. And I really didn’t know how I was going to do it, because there was NO WAY I wanted my family knowing that I was going to church! But there was no way I could stop myself from going. It would be over 5 years before I missed a Sunday from that first time. You might even say that I went religiously! (Sorry, it was there, I had to use it.) And I learned and I grew in my relationship with the LORD.

Next – The Final Part to Psalm 116

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This picture is me and Robin and little Adeana worshipping during a practice at First United Methodist Church of Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania. Adeana was so cute, coming up and simply taking my hand as I danced to the LORD. Robin couldn’t resist joining in! It was a truly magical moment.

I’ve now had several hours of frustration as I HAD started writing the next portion of post, since I couldn’t figure out how to keep going after I got the Psalm to display in columns, But it’s disappeared. I know I saved it to draft, a couple of times, actually, but I can’t figure out where it’s gone. So, now that I’ve lost my train of thought and I should be going to bed, I figured to sit here and write some more.

Okay, so I didn’t write anymore, I went to sleep. But I saved this to draft and IT didn’t disappear. I’m really disappointed. What I had written was really heart-felt and it was good,(even if I do say it myself), and it can’t be recreated. So, I guess I’ll just take a few minutes to get coffeed up and prayed up and I’ll begin again, and I’ll simply have to make it better.

SO – Why Psalm 116? It’s just the Psalm that struck me most about how I felt when Papa God (took me a long time to be able to cal Him that – more later) reached down and pulled me up out of the miry pit that was dragging me down to death. According to James B Coffman in his “Commentary on Psalm 116,” this psalm is considered by ancient Hebrew tradition to be written by King Hezekiah after the LORD saved him from death. You can read that story in Isaiah 38 if you’d like to know more about how Hezekiah’s pleas for more time after God told him he was going to die gained him 15 more years. And, while I don’t know how many more years I’ll have due to the salvation of the LORD, I know that I would be dead by now if He hadn’t saved me. My weight, my alcohol and drug consumption, my inability to hold gainful employment due to those things, all added up to a recipe for disaster.

As I contemplated my baptism and what it meant to me, declaring to all the world, out loud, that I have decided to follow Jesus, it hit me that this psalm not only expressed what I needed to do, it said it TWICE, for added emphasis. “I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all His people.” (verses 14 & 18). This is a psalm of thanksgiving, yet more than simply giving thanks, it’s an acknowledgement that God answered a plea for help. And I had to let people KNOW that I was thankful, and that God had answered, and because of that, I get to live and love and serve Him for the rest of my days. And I had to let the people of Gungu UMC in Kigoma, Tanzania know that their faithfulness to God was making an impact halfway around the world. They needed to know that their prayers and their devotion changed the life of someone they didn’t even know existed. This is something we all need to be reminded of, we never know when something we do will affect someone who will “pay it forward” so to speak. It’s called the butterfly effect. My friend Robin, one of the others on this trip to Kigoma and now fulltime in missions with Wycliffe Bible Translators, wrote eloquently on this phenomenon. You can find her article in the August 2011 issue of Today’s Christian Woman.

I had to let the world know that, because the LORD listened to me, actually heard and paid heed to my pleas, (hmmmm, sounds like the literary device called synthetic parallelism I learned about in class, where a second phrase completes or supplements the first as seen in verses 1 & 2 of this psalm – yes, this is still about my class!), I would call upon His name, love, honor and serve Him for the rest of my life.

There is soooooooo much more I could go into here, (such as the 8 things we should “render to the LORD” (v.12) for all He has benefitted us: love, praise, worship, fear, our bodies, service, gratitude and payment of our vows – identified by Warren E. Berkley in “Something in Return”, the Expository Files, October 1996), but if I write it all here, I won’t have anything to write about next time. (Not really, I’ll never run out of material, but it feels like a good place to leave you for now. Thanks for reading!)

Okay – Finally Got Here – Psalm 116

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Okay, here it is, finally! Psalm 116 in English (English Standard Version (ESV)) and Swahili. I apologize for the formatting errors, but I've never written html code before, and I've never written code when I wasn't under the influence of mind altering substances before. (It's been a while since I wrote code of any type.) So, I'll let you read the Psalm, and I catch ya on the other side. (Actually, I'm not going to mess with things right now, so I'll continue writing in the next post. I can't seem to make this do what I want yet, so I'll play with it another time.)
1 I love the LORD, because he has heard my voice and my pleas for mercy.
2 Because he inclined his ear to me, therefore I will call on him as long as I live.
3 The snares of death encompassed me; the pangs of Sheol laid hold on me; I suffered distress and anguish.
4 Then I called on the name of the LORD: “O LORD, I pray, deliver my soul!”
5 Gracious is the LORD, and righteous; our God is merciful.
6 The LORD preserves the simple; when I was brought low, he saved me.
7 Return, O my soul, to your rest; for the LORD has dealt bountifully with you.
8 For you have delivered my soul from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling;
9 I will walk before the LORD in the land of the living.
10 I believed, even when I spoke, “I am greatly afflicted”;
11 I said in my alarm, “All mankind are liars.”
12 What shall I render to the LORD for all his benefits to me?
13 I will lift up the cup of salvation and call on the name of the LORD,
14 I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people.
15 Precious in the sight of the LORD is the death of his saints.
16 O LORD, I am your servant; I am your servant, the son of your maidservant. You have loosed my bonds.
17 I will offer to you the sacrifice of thanksgiving and call on the name of the LORD.
18 I will pay my vows to the LORD in the presence of all his people,
19 in the courts of the house of the LORD, in your midst, O Jerusalem. Praise the LORD!

1
Ninampenda BWANA kwa
maana amesikia sauti yangu,
amesikia kilio
changu ili anihurumie.
2
Kwa sababu amenitegea sikio lake,
nitamwita siku zote za maisha yangu.
3
Kamba za mauti zilinizunguka,
maumivu makuu ya kuzimu yalinipata,
nikalemewa na taabu na huzuni.
4
Ndipo nikaliitia jina la BWANA :
‘‘Ee BWANA, niokoe!’’
5
BWANA ni mwenye neema na haki,
Mungu wetu ni mwingi wa huruma.
6
BWANA huwalinda wanyenyekevu,
nilipokuwa katika shida kubwa, aliniokoa.
7
Ee nafsi yangu, tulia tena,
kwa kuwa BWANA amekuwa mwema
kwako.
8
Kwako wewe, Ee BWANA,
umeniokoa nafsi yangu na mauti,
macho yangu kutokana na machozi,
miguu yangu kutokana na kujikwaa,
9
ili niweze kutembea mbele ya BWANA,
katika nchi ya walio hai.
10
Niliamini, kwa hiyo nilisema,
‘‘Mimi nimeteseka sana.’’
11
Katika taabu yangu nilisema,
‘‘Wanadamu wote ni waongo.’’
12
Nimrudishie BWANA nini
kwa wema wake wote alionitendea?
13
Nitakiinua kikombe cha wokovu
na kulitangaza jina la BWANA .
14
Nitazitimiza nadhiri zangu kwa BWANA
mbele za watu wake wote.
15
Kifo cha watakatifu kina thamani
machoni pa BWANA .
16
Ee BWANA, hakika mimi ni mtumishi wako,
mimi ni mtumishi wako,
mwana wa mjakazi
a
wako,
umeniweka huru toka minyororo yangu.
17
Nitakutolea dhabihu ya kukushukuru
na kuliita jina la BWANA .
18
Nitazitimiza nadhiri zangu kwa BWANA
mbele za watu wake wote,
19
katika nyua za nyumba ya BWANA,
katikati yako, Ee Yerusalemu.
Msifuni BWANA .

Psalm 116 – Part 2

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So, I’d been thinking about baptism, and getting dunked completely like Jesus did. The symbolism and significance are that the person you were goes down into the water and dies, and when you come up, you are a new person, having symbolically died with Christ and been risen in resurrection as He rose. Your sin is washed away. God forgives all, and you begin life anew. That thought was very appealing to me. Those who knew me before will say that my conversion was nearly of Saul to Paul proportions. I never saw it as QUITE that epic, but I will admit that it was pretty drastic.

The decision to do a full dunk was made, but then came the “problem” of logistics. Where, when, how and by whom? The church I attended at the time didn’t have a full dunk baptismal, and while there was (and still is) a nearby river, it’s not the cleanest. A local, or someone’s private pool just didn’t seem right. And then the answer came. The opportunity came to make the same mission trip to Tanzania as the friend who started this whole journey for me in the first place. I thought, “How cool would it be to get baptized in Lake Tanganyika? In Africa, man!” (Sorry, “I’m in Africa, man,” is a semi-private joke. Maybe someday that story will get told here.)

During the planning sessions for the trip to Tanzania, I voiced my wish to get baptized there and bring my whole “coming to Christ” journey full circle. My thought was that Lowell, the guy who heads up the ministry we were working with, would baptize me in Lake Tanganyika and it would be like all those really cool baptism scenes you see in the movies. — It didn’t turn out that way.

The way it ended up looking, visually, wasn’t really much to speak of, at least not compared to the idea I had in my head. But the way it was SPIRITUALLY, now that’s a whole different thing! As I said in Part 1, that little church in Kigoma, Tanzania was the only United Methodist church in Tanzania with a full dunk baptismal, but it wasn’t getting used. I don’t know if the people didn’t really understand baptism, or if they were just afraid of being first, or if it was making a public display, or what, but they weren’t getting baptized. So Lowell asked me if I would do it in the church during a regular Sunday service so that they could see what it was really like. As cool as the lake would have been, this was cooler, to be able to lead by example!

But then I realized, as cool as that was, the group of people watching would be a whole lot different, and a WHOLE LOT larger than I had planned. And now I was being an example and not just having an intimate little gathering of mission team buddies and God. There would be a couple hundred “Intimate” strangers there too. And I had to publicly declare why I was doing this – to people who don’t speak English! I prayed on it and I prayed on it, and it finally came to me, Psalm 116. It was me.

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And so one that day, with Lowell and the leader of our mission team down with a SEVERE case of food poisoning and unable to attend, I stood before the congregation of Gungu United Methodist Church and made my Public Declaration that I am a follower of Jesus Christ by reading Psalm 116 – in Swahili!!!

Psalm 116 – Part 1

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So now that you have a little bit of background I can move to the middle, about the power of Psalm 116 in my life. And this is sort of the crux of my current assignment, relating something I’ve learned in my current class, Old Testament Survey, to something relevant now. As I wracked my brain ablout what to do, realizing I couldn’t really use what I had been working on when I tried to take the class at a different school, I was just coming up blank. Then I started thinking about how I really got here, to the place where I have to do such a project, and what REALLY affected me on the path. (And was it from the Old Testament!?) And I thought of my baptism.

I was sprinkle baptized as an infant, though I had to go back to the church where it happened because when I asked my Mom about it, she couldn’t remember. They found me in “The Big Book,” and even gave me a certification that it had happened. But now, in my new life in Christ, I felt the need to publically profess my faith and get the full dunk. While there is great contoversy, the form of baptism really doesn’t matter, in fact, in extreme situations, it doesn’t even need to happen. Consider the thief on the cross next to Jesus at His crucifiction. The man said, “Remember me,” and Jesus told him that by the faith of his statement he would reside in Heaven.

OK, so that was a baby bunny trail, now back to my point, a public declaration of my faith. I felt I wanted to do it, I felt I needed to do it, but where and when, exactly, were questions spinning in my mind. At my home church, the church that my Grandmother (yes, the Gramma from post number one) was brought up in, and her parents and their parents as well? (That whole story is for a different post, but quite a story it is!!) Or someplace else, sometime else?

Alright, I guess I need to go down another bunny trail to give you enough background to understand, really, where I was at during this time. You see, the whole reason I was even at this church was because a drinking buddy of mine went on a mission trip to Africa. It was conversations with him about where he went and what he did and why, that made me start questioning where I was at in life, and what was I really doing and why. And it was through those conversations, both before he left and after he got back that I started thinking that maybe I was missing out on something. Maybe, just maybe, there was something more “out there” for me. And in one of those conversations he talked about this little church that they went to in the town of Kigoma, Tanzania. It was one room, but full of happy, loving people. One of the things they did on their trip was to encourage the people of that church, worshipped with them, prayed with them, sang and danced with them. And it was amazing to me that this guy that I had known since high school would do something like that, and I was intrigued.

So now, we take a giant leap forward. Don’t worry, I’ll backtrack and fill in a lot of the gaps I’m creating, but this tme, rather than hopping down a bunny trail, we just got sucked into a worm hole and we’re catepulting ahead in time. It’s five years later, and I’m in Kigoma, Tanzania. As I said above, I’d been thinking about getting baptized so I could make my public declaration of being a follower of Christ, but I didn’t know by whom, when or where. Then it struck me, since it was my buddy’s trip to Tanzania that started my on my path, wouldn’t it be cool to get baptized in Africa?!! As I talked about it with the guy who runs the ministry we went to help, (Joy in the Harvest), he thought it would be a great idea. That little, one room church in Kigoma just happens to be the only United Methodist church in Tanzania with a full dunk baptismal!! And so my baptism was planned to be a part of that mission trip….

To be continued….

Hmmmm. Where to Begin? Beginning, Middle, or Both?

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Some say that the best place to begin is at the beginning, but I don’t think that’s always true. Especially if you’re the type to get lost as you chase down rabbit trails and never end up getting to the original point you were trying to make. And I am that type. I can go down all sorts of trails, following points all over creation, and never get where I wanted to go. So I think that I’m going to start with the place my mind went when I first started thinking about this project.

As I wracked my brain for an idea to start this project off, something that would relate to the Old Testament, something that would “be a witness” to others, I realized that the only place I could go was the Psalms. One Psalm in particular, to start off. Psam 116, the one that I read as my public declaration before my Baptism. But then I continued my thinking and realized that to understand WHY this Psalm is so important to me, perhaps some background would be helpful.

So, here’s the quick version of my early childhood religious upbringing. When I was a kid, my Dad would take me, nearly every Sunday, to the local coffee shop where he would meet with his friends and talk over coffee. I didn’t give a wit about the conversations, I was excited because I got to drink either Coca Cola, or CHOCOLATE MILK! Neither were not often to be had at home.

But even better than the prospect of chocolate milk or Coca Cola was the actual drive to the coffee shop. We did it nearly every week. We would drive several bocks off course, to a particular street in town. This particular street, in just a two block stretch, had four churches. And one block east was another one. Every week we would drive down those two blocks, turn east and head back past the fifth church. Once past, we would head on to coffee and cola heaven with Dad saying, “Well, we’ve done our churchly duty.” That’s my best memory of church when I was growing up.

In contrast, the experience ofchurch that does not bring joy happened when I was 5 or 6 years old. As far as I remember, I only actually went to church when I spent Saturday night over at my grandparents house. I remember that Sunday School was pretty fun when I was there. We got to play, have story time and then a snack!

I loved snack time, cookies and Funny Face koolaid. (I know, I know, I’m showing my age with Funny Face. Goofy Grape was the BEST!!) And I loved to help make the Funny Face, it was my act of service. But really what it was, was my chance to SNEEZE! I LOVED to sneeze when I was a kid. And when you dumped the packet of koolaid in the pitcher, a very fine powder would waft up and, if snorted correctly, produce an awesome sneeze.

And therein lies the rub. That is the cause of the bad memory. The leaders told me I was a bad girl for doing that. I didn’t understand why helping out was bad. Then they said I couldn’t help anymore, and that confused me even more. I got really upset about it. I had a bit of a tantrum about it. And that’s when they said I couldn’t come back. I remember standing in the hallway when Gramma came to pick me up, and them telling her what a bad girl I had been. They said I couldn’t come back until I learned how to behave.

And so I didn’t go back. I told Gramma that I didn’t understand why helping was bad, and I didn’t understand what they wanted me to change. I keep saying “they” because that’s what they were. They were the nameless, now faceless big people who got mad at me for being a good, quiet, helpful little girl. And “they” are the ones who scared me away, kicked me out of Sunday School at the tender age of 5 or 6 for snorting koolaid! I still had to go to church with Gramma when I spent the night, but I went to big people church and drew pictures during the service.

And that’s how my 40 years in the wilderness began.