Posted in General Posts by Don Brensinger on 2/17/2010
"I'm on the
run
I'm on the
ropes this time
Where is my
song?
I've lost
the song of my soul tonight
Sing it out,
sing it out
Take what is
left of me, make it a melody
Sing it out,
sing out loud
I can't find
the words to sing
You be my
remedy
My song, my song
I'll sing
with what's left of me
Where is the
sun
Feel like a
ghost this time
Where have
you gone?
I need your
breath in my lungs tonight
Sing it out,
sing it out
Take what is
left of me, make it a melody
Sing it out,
sing out loud
I can't find
the words to sing
You be my
remedy
My song, my
song
I'll sing
with what's left of me
I'm holding
on, I'm holding on to you
My world is
wrong
My world is a
lie that's come true
And I fall
in love with the ones that run me through
When all
along all I need is You."
- "Sing It Out" by Switchfoot
I'm not
gonna lie, it's been a tough month. Ministry has been awesome. Our team has
become more cohesive. I have a roof over my head and food on the table.
But
internally, it's been a struggle.
I've had
doubts about everything, from leadership to relationships (platonic, of course. Calm down Mom and sisters, I know I got your hopes up there) to my spiritual life,
my motives, and who I really am at the core.
If you just
glazed over the lyrics above, please read them again. I've been living off this
song for the past few days, and it basically outlines my spiritual journey this
month.
But this
short exert from J.I. Packer's book "Knowing God" is what really turned my
month around:
"What
matters supremely is not the fact that I know God, but the fact that He knows me. I am graven on the palms of
His hands. I am never out of His mind. All my knowledge of Him depends on His
sustained initiative in knowing me. I know Him because He first knew me, and continues
to know me. He knows me as a friend, one who loves me; and there is no moment
when His eye is off me, or His attention distracted from me, and no moment,
therefore, when His care falters.
"There is
tremendous relief in knowing that His love to me is utterly realistic, based at
every point on prior knowledge of the worst about me, so that no discovery now
can disillusion Him about me, in the way I am so often disillusioned about
myself, and quench His determination to bless me."
I am
disillusioned about myself all the time. I see myself as weak, inadequate,
incompetent, uncaring, and lazy ... and that's the short list. But God knows the
worst about me ... thoughts and motives that have never crossed my mind because I
focus on my most blatant evils and shortcomings.
And yet He
still loves me. So much that He allowed His own son to suffer the punishment I
deserve.
1 John 4:19
says, "We love because He first loved us." God loved us before we were even
born, with the full knowledge of every sin (large or miniscule) we would commit
during our lifetime. So there is nothing we can do to alter His infinite love
for us.
It is easy
to be disillusioned about ourselves, but God is never disillusioned about us.
He never sees me as a failure, no matter what I believe or what others around
me might say. And if God is for me, no one (not even myself) can be against me.
Posted in General Posts by Don Brensinger on 2/15/2010
The most intriguing form of local transportation that I have
encountered during my first six months of The World Race is easily the Kenyan matatu.
Matatus are rickety vans resembling Scooby Doo's Mystery
Machine that can transport at least 14 people all around Nairobi for about 20 to
50 shillings (during the daytime), equivalent to 27 to 67 cents (1 dollar = 75
Kenyan shillings).
The average matatu is not aesthetically pleasing and
features a bland, white paintjob. Fortunately, many matatu drivers do not
settle for bland. A large number of matatus show off eye-catching themes, promoting
pop culture or religion and sometimes football (and by football, I mean
soccer).
Every colorful matatu features its own unique name with a
decal plastered across the windshield. They are named after anything
imaginable, from music ("Da Queen of Hip Hop") to preachers ("T.D. Jakes") to
adamant lifestyle declarations ("Crunk Is Not Dead") to cheese production
("Makin' Cheddar") to unbearable Rob Schneider movies ("The Animal").
On the inside, matatus can have pictures of rappers adorning
the walls, and some even boast flat-screen televisions in the front seat. Music
(usually rap, occasionally gospel if you find the right driver) blares from the
speakers.
But the best part of any matatu ride is its unpredictable nature. Sometimes you have the van to yourself, and sometimes the 14-person shuttle is pushing 30. Sometimes your driver values your time so much that he drives on sidewalks and endangers the lives of pedestrians to avoid making you late. Sometimes opportunistic entrepreneurs search for loose change in your pockets. And sometimes the matatu soundtrack will shift from Lil Wayne to Richard Marx in mere seconds.
One night, after a day of touring Nairobi, Matt Patch and I went on a little matatu adventure, not by choice of course, but we now are better men because of it. (For the remainder of this blog, I will refer to Matt and myself by our Kenyan names. Matt was given the name Jogu (it translates to "elephant strength") of the Kikuyu tribe, and I was dubbed Ochieng (means "born after 12 noon") of the Luo tribe. And yes, I am well aware that Matt's name is substantially cooler than mine.
It began as all great stories do: with sabotage. There we were, waiting at the bus stop beneath the bridge and looking for the No. 15 matatu as we were instructed. After 10 minutes and no matatu, we got a bit antsy and decided to ask an innocent-looking business woman in a pink, buttoned-down shirt (and standing behind us in line) if the No. 15 van would be rolling in soon. Sensing an opportunity to move up two spots in the matatu line during the busiest time of day, the woman informed us that the No. 15 did not pass this location and directed us to another bus stop.
So we walked another mile and waited at that location only to realize that the No. 15 matatu apparently does not pass by that location either. We wandered around for another hour and decided to return to our original bus stop. After another 10 minutes of waiting and no No. 15, Jogu and I began asking random matatus if they were headed to Langata (where we were staying).
One head nod later, we were cruising out of the city in the No. 56 matatu.
30 minutes later, we were cruising into the slums in the No. 56 matatu, and passengers began asking us where we were headed because we were obviously far from home.
Now nighttime in Nairobi is reminiscent of the movie "I am Legend," where Will Smith's character makes sure he is safe and secure in his home before sundown because that's when the zombies come out and bad things happen. While there are no zombies in Nairobi, we were told multiple times that it's unsafe to be out after dark, so it can be a race against the sun to get inside the church grounds before it sets for the evening.
As our matatu reached the end of the line in the slums, the sun had disappeared. Thankfully, our matatu driver and money collector didn't kick us out, and instead, huddled with other passengers to discuss the best thing to do with us. So we drove for another 20 minutes, and then the money collector jumped out at a stop and motioned for us to follow him. He sat us on another matatu, gave our fare to another money collector, and told us this new matatu would get us home.
Well this new matatu was pretty sweet. "Casino" was tattooed across the windshield, vinyl seat cushions adorned the ceiling, and the entire inside glowed purple from a black light. 10 minutes later, the money collector told us to get out and follow him, and he took us (and thankfully our fare) to another matatu. 10 minutes later, we were motioned to get out again and informed we would find the No. 15 matatu nearby.
Finally we found it. I hadn't been that excited to see No. 15 since Joffrey Lupul scored the game-winning goal for the Flyers in Game 7 of the first round of the NHL Stanley Cup playoffs in 2008 against the Washington Capitals. (Sorry, I probably lost 90 percent of the readers on that one, but I hope the hockey fans appreciated it).
So there we were, safe and sound on the No. 15 headed toward Langata. Jogu and I became a tad peeved when the money collector shortchanged us and refused to give us the rest back, but nonetheless, we were coming down the homestretch.
And then things got a little crazy. Our matatu was pulled over at a police checkpoint. I'm thinking it's a common occurrence, but then our money collector opens the door and is thrown up against the matatu by cops with large guns. One even backhands him across the face. They throw handcuffs on him and take him away. Jogu and I are clueless, but we're guessing he wasn't arrested for shortchanging us.
Then the passengers begin to file out of the matatu, so we think its a good idea to follow suit. As we step out, one policeman says "Mzungu!" and snickers break out. Mzungu is a term of endearment Africans use for white people, and apparently it's such a joyful moniker that it always induces laughter.
So the cops with large guns pat us down and search the matatu, and we get the OK to return to our seats. Then we see a familiar face handcuffed alongside our money collector.
"Isn't that our driver?" I ask Jogu.
"Yup," he replies.
Just as hopelessness begins to set in, some random dude jumps in the driver seat, and we resume our drive home. I don't know where the guy came from, but we're moving again so I'm not asking questions. And we're home in minutes.
So what's the moral of this story? Well, as this World Race year goes on, my faith in God is getting stronger. During our first month in Ireland, I was on my knees in the middle of the night praying my tent would survive monsoon winds and torrential downpours. In Israel, I got a little nervous when me and Colby accidentally drove into Palestinian territory. But that fear is diminishing.
So now I'm not even fazed when a matatu ride goes awry. I'm not nervous when I'm riding a boda boda (motorcycle taxi) with no headlights and my driver is weaving through dirt paths in the middle of nowhere.
I know God is taking care of me. That doesn't give me an excuse to be stupid, but I know my life is in His hands. What I should be afraid of is living my life outside of His will. I did that for years and never found satisfaction, but now I know I'm where He wants me.
My greatest fear before the Race was coming home and not knowing what my next step would be. When I arrive home in June, I have no clue what my future will hold. But I'm content because I know my future is in God's hands, and there is no better place.
Posted in General Posts by Don Brensinger on 12/18/2009
Out of the 11 countries on the August 2009 World Race route, Israel was the country I most wanted to visit. I longed to walk where Jesus walked, see what he saw, and have a mental image of the landscape when I read the Bible.
Well, thanks to erosion, decay, and urban development ... that is not possible.
However, Israel was still very cool. I stared out over the Sea of Galilee and imagined Jesus walking on top of the choppy water. I climbed up the windy streets of Nazareth. I waded through Hezekiah's Tunnel, a narrow, 533-meter maze beneath Jerusalem that was dug in 701 B.C. to provide the city with water in case of a siege from the Assyrians (Thanks Wikipedia!).
I surveyed the 2,500-year old remnants of Nehemiah's wall and floated in the sparkling Dead Sea. I wandered aimlessly through the Judean Wilderness and visited Capernaum, where a synagogue was built over a synagogue Jesus may or may not have preached at and a church was constructed over the former home of Simon Peter.
I wish I could have bought you all plane tickets to Israel so we could share these experiences, BUT I can't ... so here's the next best thing ... pictures. Enjoy.
Posted in General Posts by Don Brensinger on 12/2/2009
They said it shouldn't be done. Some even said it couldn't be done.
That only made us want to do it more.
So one morning, my brother Sam and I woke up at 4:45 a.m., stuffed our packs with water bottles and food, and ventured into the desert.
Our goal was to trek an estimated 14 miles through the Judean Wilderness until we reached the Dead Sea. We were equipped with maps, directions, a cell phone, and survival advice in case we got lost. Our guide also nonchalantly warned us about terrorists. I'm 72% sure he was joking.
For the first four hours, we stuck close to the trail markers, only slightly wandering off to explore some cool-looking caves or to navigate around a large yet seemingly deserted Bedouin village that we hoped was not hostile. I had my doubts when we came upon a poor mule whose front legs had been tied together. We discussed setting it free but quickly realized that might not go over well with the locals. But anyway, it turned out to be a friendly village, judging by the way a few children waved at us, and no shots were fired in our direction.
Then we came upon "the cave." It was far off the trail and high in the side of a mountain. But from where we stood, it looked like the mother of all desert caves ... which meant we had to be there.
Photo by Samuel Mongonia
Two-and-a-half hours later, we left the cave (turned out to be kind of a letdown) and hiked to the top of that mountain, which was easily one of the tallest in the desert. Being the optimists we are, we expected to see the sparkling blue water of the Dead Sea on the other side of the peak. The view wasn't exactly what we had anticipated. Oh we could see the Dead Sea alright, but the several miles of desert in front of it turned us off a little bit.
We contemplated whether to continue the journey or head back. I was tired, sweaty, sun-burned, and sore, but the thought of stepping onto that beach, pealing off my shirt and gear, and making a bee-line for the brisk water was too tempting.
Then we noticed two military helicopters flying toward us from the Dead Sea ... and we continued to contemplate. One flew directly over us and hovered over our mountain for a few minutes ... and we continued to contemplate. Then we noticed two more helicopters flying low in between the nearby valleys ... and we continued to contemplate. Then we watched the first two helicopters float side-by-side over the Dead Sea, staring directly at Jordan ... and we continued to contemplate. Then we heard a far-off, booming sound that we both swore could have been an explosion ... and we decided to head home.
Without the motivation of a cool dip in the Dead Sea, we wearily trudged back into the Judean Wilderness ... perhaps through the same area Jesus ventured into during his 40-day fast and temptation. Thank God the fate of humanity did not rest in my hands on this day because by our eighth hour in the desert, I can't guarantee what would have happened if the devil had tempted me with a strawberry lemonade Slurpee. If he would have told me I could turn a rock into a Chipwich, it would have been all over.
But thankfully, Jesus was a stronger man than I am. The devil attacked him at his weakest point - after 40 days of fasting and wandering through the desolate wilderness - and Jesus withstood it. It was on that day that Jesus told Satan we were more important than his own human needs and desires. Imagine how scared the devil must have been when his intended target turned down unlimited food, invincibility, and world domination ... in order to save the very people who were going to crucify Him.
We can't escape temptation. If the devil could find a way to tempt Jesus in the middle of the wilderness, he can easily find ways to tempt us daily. But temptation isn't a sin. The Bible clearly states Jesus was tempted (or at least the NIV does). The true character of a person is never more clearer than when they face temptation alone ... where no one else will ever know what happened. Jesus handled it like a champ. How are we handling it?
Posted in General Posts by Don Brensinger on 11/28/2009
Football, Food, Family.
Turns out, Thanksgiving in Israel actually wasn't much different than Thanksgiving back home. The day started off with a "friendly" football game amongst the J Squad guys. The boys of Olur (my team), Shekinah, and Unwritten laid a sound whooping on the dudes from Journey, Chrysalis, and Ninja in a game that wasn't nearly as close as the final score of 4-3.
Then our squad gathered together for an awesome Thanksgiving dinner at the edge of the Judean Desert. We filled up on turkey, stuffing, gravy, mashed potatoes, candied yams, green bean casserole, corn, carrots, brownies, apple crisp, and no-bake cookies before the sun went down, then watched a little Thanksgiving-day football via the Internet. Great day.
We spent Friday night in the Tel Aviv airport lobby, woke up at 3:15 a.m. to go through security and check our bags, then hopped a plane to Istanbul, Turkey, for a six-day debrief. So, we're here safe and sound, and we head out December 3rd to our ministry locations in Turkey for this month.
I'm gonna try to pump out two blogs while we're in Istanbul, but until then, check out this Thanksgiving video Ashlee Hillis made for our team. Take care.
On Saturday, November 7, 2009, Matt Patch, Kendra Baird, Marissa Villa, and myself embarked on an hour-plus walk from our current home in Israel to the nearest McDonald's in search of culinary bliss. We began our journey with a craving for cheeseburgers and french fries. But what we eventually found was even more satisfying.
While Marissa and Kendra wandered into a clothing store, an unexplainable force pulled the guys into a bag store, and 15 minutes later, we were the proud owners of man purses (a.k.a. murses). I still don't know how it happened ... but I'm glad it did. It just makes sense.
Of course, we were skeptical, maybe even a little scared. So we asked the saleswoman all the important questions:
"Do a lot of people wear these?"
"Yes!"
" ... men?"
"Yes!"
"Does this look masculine on me?"
"Yes!"
"190 shekels (roughly 51 dollars) seems like a lot. Can you go lower?"
"For you, I give five-percent discount."
"Can you do 10 percent?"
"For you, I will call my boss, but know I never do this. It very rare."
(After phone call to boss) "I can only do seven percent, so 180 shekels (roughly 49 dollars)."
"Deal."
As I reveled in our bartering skills, the saleswoman informed us that our dual-murse purchase qualified us for a free gift: a leather wallet worth 100 shekels (roughly 37 dollars). So we decided to share the wallet on a month-to-month basis. Matt has it first since she stuck it in his murse.
And then an awkward exchange happened. As we were wrapping up the sale, the woman was trying to tell us a phrase they use in Israel whenever a happy customer leaves the store with a quality purchase. It didn't translate well, but what we understood was, "Get new."
"Do you mean enjoy?"
"No ... get new."
"Congratulations?"
"No ... get new."
"Thank you?"
"No ... get new."
" ... OK, bye."
I have no clue what "get new" refers to, but it just makes a lot of sense when I think about the past 12 days. At the end of October, my entire 42-person squad reunited in Istanbul for five days of fellowship, worship, and rest. Oh yeah, and we also made a few changes to the squad's six teams. With Caroline and Aaron scheduled to complete their duties as squad leaders at the end of November, Dan Snyder and Brandy Chaffer were promoted to fill these roles for the remainder of our World Race. So, three new team leaders were raised up in the squad: Holland Cox, Colby Long, and myself.
Proclaim I61 is still fairly intact, but we obviously lost Brandy as well as my brother Anthony, and I gained a new brother in Ken Virzi. So with a new team dynamic, we decided a name change was necessary. Team Olur (Turkish for "possible") is Kendra Baird, Shannon Morgan, Ashlee Hillis, Katie McFaddin, Ken Virzi, and Don Brensinger.
I'm not going to lie, the first 12 days haven't gone as I envisioned. With few responsibilities for the first three months, I'll admit my mind was on cruise control. No stress, no decisions, all I had to worry about was building my relationship with God and serving our contacts. I hate complaining, so let's just say I have a few more responsibilities now, and by the end of Week 1, I was mentally exhausted.
Then our Sunday night church service came along. I wasn't in the mindset I should have been. I was grumpy, annoyed, tired, and stressed that our 15-minute presentation in front of the church was going to bomb. As we engaged in praise and worship time, I prayed for a renewed mindset, and just then a picture of Jesus holding a lamb flashed across the projection screen. In that moment, I "got new." I'm that lamb, and I'm in good hands. I'm protected, loved, guided, nurtured, and rescued. God didn't put me in this new role to be defeated. He appointed me to this position because it's part of His plan for me, whether I like it or not. I can't tell you how comforting it is to know that I am exactly where He wants me to be right now.
"So do not fear for I am with you. Do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you. I will uphold you with my righteous right hand."
Isaiah 41:10
I may not know how to "get new" when I buy a murse, but I do know how to "get new" when I'm weak or disheartened. Everything we need to navigate life is in The Bible. I've heard many pastors call it an instruction manual. When I'm discouraged, I can't drown myself in apathy and self-pity. I need to remember that a renewed mindset is just a verse or a prayer away.
(By the way, God helped us to knock our church presentation out of the park. We introduced our group, shared our testimonies with brief phrases written in Arabic on pieces of cardboard, and Shannon made the congregation burst into tears as she explained what God has done in her life since the Race began. Like I said, we're in good hands.)
Posted in General Posts by Don Brensinger on 10/27/2009
With a few hours remaining before we leave Bulgaria on a 10-hour bus ride to Istanbul, I wanted to post some pictures I took throughout October to show you the vast beauty of this country. I didn't know what to expect before the month started, but the Balkan Mountains make Bulgaria gorgeous with villages nestled at the base of colossal peaks that extend the skyline higher than I've ever seen. Some towns like Veliko Tarnovo are carved into the sides of mountains and offer breathtaking views of the surrounding landscapes. I think God might have been showing off a bit when He made Bulgaria, and I couldn't be more thankful.
Disclaimer: The only times I really pull out my camera are when we get a day off, which happens once a week. So my photos are usually recreational and don't often show the ministries we've been involved in throughout the month. If you'd like to check out photos or videos of the work we've been doing in Bulgaria, head over to my teammates' blogs: Ashlee and Brandy. They do a spectacular job of capturing our ministries, so drop in and tell them I sent you so I get my commission.
Posted in General Posts by Don Brensinger on 10/12/2009
I am a sports nerd.
I blame it on my fifth-grade gym teacher, who gave us assignments like go watch a football game and write a two-page essay on the skills, strategies, and statistics you see. Next thing I know, I'm conversing about Michael Jordan and "three-peats," battling an addiction to NHL '94 on the Super Nintendo, and crying when Joe Carter crushes the Phillies' championship dreams with a walk-off home run in Game 6 of the 1993 World Series.
Like any respectable fan from the rabid, blue-collared city of Philadelphia, I'm a "four-for-four guy." Translation: I root for the four major sports teams in town (Eagles, Flyers, Phillies, and 76ers).
Before the Phillies won the World Series last year, Philadelphia had been mired in a 25-year championship drought. And since I probably didn't truly appreciate the Sixers' NBA Title in 1983 when I was one year old, I was deprived of experiencing the feeling of sports supremacy. Needless to say, the Phillies' 2008 championship was one of the greatest moments of my life. I went to the Broad Street Parade, bought the hat, two t-shirts, a sweatshirt, the DVD, and renewed my Sports Illustrated subscription through 2012 to get the special limited edition book and baseball.
When the Flyers blow a late two-goal lead, I'm livid. If the Eagles lose, I'm depressed for a week. A three-game losing streak is the end of the world for a Phillie fan. And if the Sixers are stunned at the buzzer ... I'm actually not too upset because they stink anyway.
Sports has been my life.
So naturally, I woke up at 5 a.m. on Monday to watch Game 3 of the Phillies-Rockies playoff series, since we have wireless Internet at our current location. It was my first chance to watch the Phillies since leaving home on August 11, and I wasn't going to miss it. Or so I thought ...
With the game tied 5-5 in the top of the eighth inning, the Phillies had two men on with two outs and the legendary Matt Stairs at the plate. If the previous sentence makes no sense to you, it means this was a crucial moment in the game. If Stairs blasts a home run like he's famous for doing, my Phillies are cruising to victory. But then something strange happened. God spoke to my heart ... with Matt Stairs at bat ... in the eighth inning ... with the score tied. Here is a transcription of the ensuing exchange:
God: So you'll wake up at 5 a.m. to watch the Phillies, but when was the last time you got up that early to spend time with me?
Me: Um ... tomorrow?
God: I thought you came on The World Race to put me first in your life ... even above sports.
Me: OK God, you got me. Lesson learned. Tell you what ... how 'bout we wait another 15 minutes for the game to end, and then we'll hang out as long as you want.
God: Hmmmm ... why wait? I want to hang out with you now.
Me: Yeah, um, I really appreciate your eagerness, but I've been watching this game for almost four hours now. I know you know this, but we're kinda at a pivotal point here. ... So 15 minutes?
God: ...
Me: OK, you're right. Now's a perfect time.
God: Let's go Phillies! (just kidding, He didn't really say that)
So with my beloved Phillies tied 5-5 in the eighth inning with two men on, two outs, and Matt Stairs at the plate, I closed my laptop, grabbed my Bible, and went outside to hang out with God. This might not sound like a huge sacrifice to some people, but I have always wondered if I would be able to choose God over my sports teams if they were playing in a crucial situation. It's easy to walk out on a regular season game, but the playoffs ... when emotions are at their highest and the entire season is on the line? I mean c'mon, I'm just a man, right?
Well, it turns out I do have that kind of willpower. I have it because God freely gives it to me. He gives us everything we need to follow and obey Him. We just need to reach out and take it.
By the time I had finished reading and praying, the game was over. Turns out the Phillies won. I'm not saying they won simply because I put God first, but I felt blessed anyway. Personal time with God and a win for the Phils ... mornings don't get much better than that.
Posted in General Posts by Don Brensinger on 10/9/2009
When I was in the 10th grade, I embarked on a five-day canoeing trip down the Delaware River as part of an Adventure Week initiative at my high school.
We did the things normal teenagers do under such circumstances ... like tipping each other's canoes, waiting for friends to take a bathroom break and then floating their parked canoe down the river (not as funny as it sounds if you're the one stranded), competing in late-night tent wrestling matches, stockpiling frogs in your friends' tent, and stealing clothes/towels while people were in the shower (also not as funny if the naked victim gives chase and tries to tackle you).
So after four grueling days of paddling, swimming, camping, and the aforementioned hi-jinks, we reached our final destination a day early, eagerly anticipating a triumphant return to our comfortable beds back home.
Instead, we got a mountain.
The ensuing climb scarred me for nearly a decade. I was tired, weak, sun-burned, and in a negative frame of mind. The climb was long and hard. Never mind the breathtaking view of the Delaware Water Gap from the top of the mountain. I wanted to go home and rest, not exert the last of my energy exploring an incredibly large mound of dirt and rock. Not my idea of fun.
So I avoided any form of hiking for years until a friend from my church invited me on an excursion to check out some waterfalls. And then it all clicked. I enjoyed the challenge of scaling the rocky terrain. I reveled in the sights and sounds of God's creation. I felt a sense of accomplishment at the top, and the stunning, landscape scene at the peak was a satisfying reward.
Climbing a mountain really can be fun.
Fast forward to last month at The World Race's Awakening conference in Brasov, Romania. Our camp was set up at the base of towering mountains that loom over the city. So one afternoon (a day after being challenged to pursue our personal mountains or kingdom dreams), a small group of adventurers decided to go get their mountain.
We hiked a steep and slippery incline for 15 minutes before arriving at a clearing that provided a gorgeous view of the small town outside Brasov. It was a near-perfect scene. A reward worthy our short yet difficult trudge up 1/4 of the mountain.
We could have been satisfied with that blessing, but we wanted more.
So after a brief rest, we set our sights on the next slope ... and then the next ... and then the next. The top of each hill held a view more rewarding and more expanded than the one before it. The intense burning in our legs was numbed by the anticipation of another picturesque scene. We could have returned to camp at any stopping point with a feeling of accomplishment and worth ... but we wanted more. We wanted the entire mountain and everything it had to offer.
After nearly two hours of climbing, we reached the top. I can't describe in words how awesome that scene was. A picture does not do it justice. You could see for miles and miles ... the town, the city, the fields and roads beyond the city, the mountains surrounding the fields beyond the city. Everything. We conquered it. We spent a lot of time and an incredible amount of energy to get to the top, and it was even more amazing than we had imagined.
We each have a personal mountain or dream that seems too daunting to attempt. So unfortunately, many never even reach the base. However, some begin the climb, and a special, determined few even reach the peak.
Maybe you dream of making a movie, or teaching the English language in China, or starting your own business, or publishing your own comic book. God has placed crazier ideas on peoples' hearts, and they've succeeded with lesser resources than we have. They attacked their mountain head-on. The ascent may be treacherous, but God rewards us along the way. And the higher we reach, the greater our blessing.
Go get your mountain.
"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already been made perfect, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead. I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus." Philippians 3:12-14
But this
short exert from J.I. Packer's book "Knowing God" is what really turned my
month around:
The most intriguing form of local transportation that I have
encountered during my first six months of The World Race is easily the Kenyan matatu.
They said it shouldn't be done. Some even said it couldn't be done. 
well with the locals. But anyway, it turned out to be a friendly village, judging by the way a few children waved at us, and no shots were fired in our direction. 
Proclaim I61 is still fairly intact, but we obviously lost Brandy as well as my brother Anthony, and I gained a new brother in 
I am a sports nerd.
When I was in the 10th grade, I embarked on a five-day canoeing trip down the Delaware River as part of an Adventure Week initiative at my high school.
It was a near-perfect scene. A reward worthy our short yet difficult trudge up 1/4 of the mountain.