I am pleased to announce that the flight from Kenya to the USA progressed well and quite complete in fashion, despite its own idiosyncrasies.   Upon departing from Kenya I was threatened with arrest due to a small issue with my visa extension.   As it turned out, my visa was extended but not until my departure as promised.   Instead I overstayed my legal presence for some ten days and was amidst infraction of bylaws regarding "visitors."   Whatever the case, the small situation was remedied with me purchasing another visa for ten days and getting on the plane to come home.

Before the near incarceration I checked in with British Air and requested an aisle seat as is my favorite.   Something about being pinned between people I don't know for such a great amount of time without the freedom to walk around without great commotion causes a slight sense of claustrophobia.   Ergo, I make it a point to sit upon the aisle to counteract these unnecessary fetters of airplane seats.   For a moment I thought I was to have the seat next to me empty, but by great misfortune I was seated next to an overly chatty woman who began drinking upon her entrance to the plane.  

Over the next eight hours of flight she continued to consume more alcohol and climbed over me more times than I could count.   Her drunken antics began to get old as well as her many "accidental" slips in sitting on my lap while I was trying to sleep.   Up to the time of landing in London she continued to slur her words, fall upon my shoulder in a drunken stupor and asking me the same questions over and over.   I was certainly glad to see the Heathrow airport.

The flight from London was far more pleasant as I not only had an aisle seat but two empty seats next to me.   I had a pleasant trans-Atlantic transit to the sunny and beautiful city of Miami.   Upon exiting the plane I met the record breaking hot and humid heat of America that I had heard so much about through the news.   However, it was a pleasant encounter and I spent my time in the airport sleeping and dreaming about running barefooted over things that had no dangers of worms or broken glass.  

As the sun set over the western horizon, I could see the slight curve of the earth from the airplane window.   The world seemed so terribly large from such a vantage point when I realized I was a mere spec afloat amidst the sea of humanity.   Yet it was a strange thought to think that only hours before, I was in another land entirely foreign and different.   The arrival into the Greensboro airport was an easy one and the walk off that ramp seemed as surreal and dreamlike as my earlier slumber.   However, it took only moments and I was greeted by my delightful parents, embraced and welcomed back to the land of North Carolina.   It is good to be home and I look forward to sharing about the journey that was Kenya!

Permit me to recount one of the most tragic and horrific tales of this new 21^st century.   If one is weak in stomach or low in tolerance of the macabre then I would suggest saving this story for another; if not, proceed with caution and guarded heart, knowing this could very well be disturbing.  

The meeting ended and I found no small commotion outside our gate, immediately understanding it was voices of great excitement coming from many of the children that commonly hang around our cul de sac.   Upon further inspection, they had possession of the slain pigeon and produced it as they saw me approaching.   The pigeon really stood no chance against the machine that gave it a swift flight to eternity.   Its head hung limply to its right side, gaping open to display whatever is found in the neck of a bird.   Moreover, the tire did a fine job of splitting it right down the middle with what appeared to be a large sized piece of meat.

No time was wasted and one of the fellows had started a fire, another found a knife, even another produced some salt and all together they began to roast the bird just outside our gate.   I must admit that they did a fine job in the speed and accuracy of their project, shortly producing a gourmet meal of roasted pigeon.   Thoroughly impressed with their culinary skill, I thought it only wise to add something to their light afternoon snack and brought them some salt and vinegar chips, certainly the best side item for pigeon.   

The boys down the small bird morsels and made quick work of the chips.   As they completed their meal they asked if I would run over another or at least buy them one some day that they may eat one again.   I laughed to myself knowing that either are possible scenarios as you never can quite know what a day in Kibera will hold!

This past weekend signaled another trip into the far reaches of Kenya with the Adult team.   Just prior to the weekend we drove into part of the interior to a place by the name of Ewaso.   It is a charming little Masai village where we have been several times previously.   As always, the journey there took us on winding roads dividing herds of zebra, gazelle and more cattle than one could count.   Unlike last time, the weather was far cooler and the dust far greater due to the peculiar weather patterns currently underway in Kenya.

On Sunday afternoon, we wound around that serpentine road stirring up boiling clouds of dust as we made our way back to Nairobi.   The Adult team saw their last full day on Sunday and most will depart on Monday.   However, they had a delightful time and were privileged to see a great deal of Kenya for no longer than they were here.   At this moment in time we have only one team remaining, the Real Life two month team, who is to arrive back from Eburru one week from today.  

The summer work in Kenya is heading towards and end but praise the Lord, His work is not.   This week I continue with our new course in the Bible College regarding the Personal Spiritual Life.   As time matures, so do the believers here who are called to do the work of the Lord during His last days.   Kenya will be left in good hands.

A tale of epic proportions has occurred over the last week. Let me begin as of one week ago when I joined the Ambassador team for an afternoon a few streets down from the slums. They were nearing their departure date and as is customary, they went to the local market to buy some goods for people back home. On the journey back to our place here in Kibera, a fine fellow from the team and myself were discussing lofty and world changing sort of concepts. In the midst of the conversation, the gaze happened to land upon a pair of boots hanging on the side of a tree.

These boots were perhaps the foulest and worst looking boots one could ever imagine. Their approximate age could easily equal twenty hard years and they appeared to have been dragged through the mud and dust with no reprieve. However, something in the boots called for us. They were not the proper size for the fellow who saw them but by great fortune were the perfect size for me. Without delay I bought them at the full asking price of 150 shillings or around two American dollars. Just to find them was worth this weighty amount.

The hours following were filled with awe and wonder regarding this rare but divine find. The leather was completely faded and looked as if it once hung upon the carcass of a deceased cow. If the leather was not bad enough, the soles made up for the matter as they were completely useless. One sole was about half detached from the boot itself, while the other had a hole completely through it at the location of the big toe. They looked as if they had seen their last…however, they had not yet met the shoe repair guy.

Without delay I carried this pair of boots to the friendly corner repair guy and asked if it was possible for them to live again. He said he thought so and to come back the next day to receive them. A sleepless night ensued in grand anticipation of these repaired masterpieces. With great joy I marched to the locale of the shoe guy and there glistening in the afternoon sun sat the finest pair of boots one could have ever bought. They looked brand new, actually better than brand new. Their deep brown tones radiated throughout the entire atmosphere and they carried with them great authority.

The days following I have worn them for short intervals of time so as not to spoil the power of their presence. These will no doubt follow me the rest of my life due to their impeccable condition since that glorious unveiling.

It has been some months since we have seen any manner of rodent here at our place in Kibera.   However, this moratorium was broken on Friday as we saw the resurgence of the rat populous.   In the process of cleaning up our compound, I was pouring some water down a large drain.   Shortly after the pouring began, I saw a flash of fur over my right foot produced by a very large and severely soaked rat.   I subsequently gave him chase.

He darted behind a great deal of rubble (for the lack of a better word) and sought refuge therein.   I quickly grabbed a large metal rod, a rod of iron as it were, in order to usher him into the land of death.   Prodding around the rubble pile, I was able to extract him but flushed him into another pile of wood and buckets.   Like a madman I threw the objects from their place in order to reach the inner chambers of his escape route.   Succeeding he again flew past me before I could strike him.   The heavy footed security guard gave very little assistance as he was more in the way than not.

The rat returned to his former place of hiding until he decided, very much on his own, that it was not sufficient and began to climb a partially vertical pole leaning on the house.   This was his fatal error.   I stood there, blinded by rage and blood thirst, swinging wildly at the air and his clambering silhouette.   With great luck I struck him in the middle of the back, thus breaking his spine and sending him into a collapsed and lifeless heap.   A quick strike once more sent him with the eternal boatman over the river Styx.   He will not see another day in this world.

This afternoon I was still reeling from the days prior when I learned that another rat had been spotted, this time a young offspring.   He was large to be a youngster, especially for one that had not yet opened his eyes.   Nevertheless, his fate had to be that of all the others for it would not be right to show partiality.   With a swift drop of the foot he joined his ancestors.  

I am unsure what to blame for this resurgence of rats, other than the fact that they could have been stirred up by the ins and outs of various visiting teams.   Whatever the case, they are always met with a single fate…a free one way trip to the underworld.

First of all, it should be known that the weather has grown frightfully cold, meriting all manner of warm clothing.   This would come as a surprise to any red-blooded American who is currently under the scourge of scorching temperatures, as I have heard continued reports of the heat wave.   However, know that here in Kenya it has been cloudy and mostly in the 70's during the day, dipping into the 60's at night.   I was found in Eburru just last week with the Real Life, two month, short term team and found the temperatures there much colder as we were in the mountains.  They are shivering through their ministry at 9,000 feet above sea level and with temperatures easily falling into the 50's.

Over the past few weeks I have been with these short term teams in their various locations, both in the bush and here in Kibera.   They have been seeing the Lord perform wondrous work in their midst and truly have experienced the ministries that Kenya has to offer.   The needy are being saved, healed and encouraged by the powerful Word of God.   It is my prayer that they maintain that passion and desire as they return home, not only in their sharing of the true Gospel, but also in their remembering of the nations still in need of a touch from the Almighty.

Classes have been going quite well at the African Bible College.   We are just completing course number six and currently are discussing eschatology.   Nothing quite excites me as much as this very topic, regarding "future things."   We have discussed the rapture, the tribulation, the second coming of the Lord, the millennial reign of Christ and eternity.   What a privilege and blessing to not only be able to teach and reason on these things but also to be living in the greatest time of humanity.   No time before has seen more avenues in which to reach the nations, more people in which to carry the Gospel and more events that are occurring, fulfilling and leading up to the return of Jesus Christ for His church.   Praise the Lord for His faithfulness and call, as well as that nearing glorious appearing that will carry all believers into the very presence of God.   Blessings!

After arriving back to our place on Sunday evening, I was rather tired from the day's full schedule and the wearying return, in tow with the drunken Masai.   I entered our compound and unpacked my things, finishing a few matters of business before I embraced the comfort of the bedchambers.   Just as I was to go to bed I heard a knock at the door produced from the efforts of Moses, one of our delightful guards at night.   He informed me that the weekend night guard wanted to be saved.  A spark leapt within my soul and I went out to talk to him.

I discovered that they had been discussing some wonderful issues when I arrived and the other guard realized that although he had lived properly, he could not recall when he decided to make Jesus Christ his Savior and Lord.   He shared a few words revealing his need and proper understanding and prayed the sinner's prayer then and there.  

It really was a delightful end to a busy weekend as new life was found in our own compound.   How great are the ways of the Lord and the work He allows us humans to participate in!   May He be praised!

Service technically began at 10:00 and was said to last until 1:00.   Jackson, my traveling companion shared a few words regarding the Prayer of Jabez after about an hour of singing.   Fortunately the Prayer of Jabez has not become so commercialized here in Kenya, being displayed upon paper weights, t-shirts, letter openers, coffee mugs, pens, socks, tattoos, belts and the sort as one may find in the USA.   This being the case allowed those people to have never heard the concept and they accepted it with open arms.

It was my turn after some more singing to bring the preaching although it was after 12:00 at that point.   It seems to me that if the main service doesn't start until after the noon hour that it should really be considered an afternoon meeting.   Nevertheless, not wanted to get caught up in the technical, I brought a message about the all surpassing glory of the Spirit dwelling inside earthen vessels.   It was received well, although with a few less 'amens' than the previous crowd.    

Service ended for the 'morning' session and we were told the elders and pastors wanted a meeting before the afternoon session.   We met with them in which they presented their requests and desires for the church, things like new instruments (the Kenyan term involving anything to do with the sound system or keyboard) and so forth.   I must say that the small meeting place they had merited no need for a sound system as the human voice was strong enough.   Nevertheless, the one they had seemed to do the trick and I am sure it will last for some time.   Also they wanted some guidance for the sake of evangelism and reaching the community as they knew nothing of the matter.   This was certainly an area that will be focused on and after I am gone Jackson will continue to be assisting them in that area.

The afternoon hours passed on and although we desired to leave by 3:30 pm to head back to Nairobi, the church tied us to another session that began abruptly at the 3:30 hour.   Due to our need to reach Nairobi before the late hours we moved quickly and I preached a very short sermon on the imminent return of Jesus Christ.   The torrential rains subsided just as we finished and by 5:00 we were on our way by the return matatu to Nairobi.   As we were boarding our chariot to be carried back home, we noticed a very drunk Masai man who was in the vehicle.   He was not just a bit tipsy but terribly drunk and I knew that would make the ride all the more interesting.

Not more than thirty minutes into our journey he began yelling and complaining loudly in Swahili.   I learned that he was complaining of having a full bladder.   The shouting probably continued for another hour until the driver finally stopped to provide a reprieve to the full bladdered man as well as the passengers affected by his vocal protests.   He warned him strongly to keep it down and he did for the next hour or so until his bladder again grew full.   He began repeating himself but to no avail, the driver refused to stop.  

We were almost in town when the matatu blew a tire and we were forced to stop.   The inebriated passenger was convinced the driver stopped on his behalf and after taking care of business told the driver it was time to go.   However, at this point the driver was addressing the needs of the tire and within thirty minutes we were back in transit.   We reached town and hopped another matatu to bring us back here to Kibera.   By 9:00 we were back in our places of domicile, reeling from the wild journeys of the weekend!

Not long ago our neighbor and friend, Jackson Atsango, asked if I would like to go to Nakuru with him to minister at a church he knew of.   I checked the schedule and longing for a chance to get away, gladly accepted the invitation.   This past Saturday we departed to spend the afternoon there and the first portion of Sunday.   The last time I was in Nakuru was in 2005 when I was here with AIM's ambassador one month team.   Although our time there was not entirely the best experience of the city, I thought I would give it another go.   I knew the journey would take about four hours but wanted to put the notion to a test.   Gross underestimations seem to be rather prevalent here and I was told shortly before leaving that I could be in Nakuru in thirty minutes, a far cry from four hours.   Nevertheless, we left at 9:00 Saturday morning and indeed arrived in Nakuru shortly after 1:00 pm.

As we were passing through the town of Nakuru, I saw no small crowd of people walking near us carrying signs, each one progressing in like step.   At first I was sure it was some sort of political sort of protest as they have been increasing in number with the soon arriving elections this winter.   Nevertheless, they neared and I noticed they were a peculiar looking people, wearing potato sacks and some looked as if they had gotten into a fight with a large mound of talcum powder.   I read the sign and then realized the nature of their march.   They were advertising a national day of repentance to take place this coming weekend.   I think they were calling for the entire nation of Kenya to come to their knees and repent for the various moral ails the country has fallen into.   More to come on this.

Upon our arrival in the city itself, I was told we were to go to a slum on the outskirts of town called Ronda.   Thinking this name was a bit peculiar for an African slum, I inquired of its origin.   It was not at all in any Kenyan dialect but named for some settlers who previously owned the area.   In its glory day it was a large garden, providing food and delights for its Western owners.   These days it is one of the largest slums in Nakuru.   In either case, that solved the origin of the name.

We found our way to the pastor's house and sat there talking for some time, eventually moseying over to the church to begin our afternoon session.   Upon arrival at the church I saw that we were not going to have any problem with crowd control.   The church was filled with around nine people, five of whom were pastors and three of those five were from other churches.   I could tell it was probably best to go into a home church sort of atmosphere to keep things simple.   Moreover, realizing that we were in an area steeped in syncretism, mixing traditional beliefs with the Word of God, I spoke about Jesus being the only way, truth and life.   I learned later that at its beginning stages the church was led by a woman who used charms and spells to assist the members of the congregation, a bit of a no-no according to the Word.

The afternoon session ended near the hour of six o'clock and we went back to the house of the pastor for some supper.   Since they had very little I felt as if we were taking the very food from their mouths but ate as we were commanded.   Despite their low financial position, they did have electricity and a television in their small one roomed dwelling.   I have not watched TV in some time and got caught up on all the news around the country.   After the news was a Kenyan favorite, Walker Texas Ranger.   Everyone here seems to know Chuck Norris and delight greatly in him as the Texas Ranger.   Sometimes we get requests asking if we know him.   After Chuck Norris came another Kenyan favorite, Dance 360.   It is some sort of program from the Western world where people randomly dance for cash prizes and iPods and the sort.

The entertainment faded on the television as did our energy levels.   We walked some distance to a small motel sort of place where we were to spend the night.   The place we stayed was right over a bar which played loud music until the wee hours of the morning.   Nevertheless, we did get some good sleep and rose the next day to embrace whatever it would bring.