There and Back Again

This is the story of my adventures getting to and from Africa this summer and how God encouraged me to walk by faith not by sight.

There

OK, it all starts with a desire to do a missionary internship. I decide to go to Africa with a program at my school called Global Outreach. I am told I can go to Mozambique. I say, "Sure where is it?"

A team forms, dissolves, and forms again a couple months before we leave: Sam, Crystal, Michael, and Aaron. We have no clear idea about the internship: what we will do, where we will live, what we will eat. A leap of faith for us.

In the meetings, it seems as though we are the exception to the rules. We will not actually apply for visas until we get there. We have disconnected flight itineraries. Our entire team is not actually at Harding, so we barely know each other. We have only met altogether once or twice. The missionaries we will be staying with have never had interns before. We have to leave May 15th, right after school ends, and won't get back until late into the summer. "Of course, this is how it would have to be," I tell myself, "If I were to ever go on an internship in Africa, I would barely know what would happen from one day to the next."

Then things start to get interesting.

A couple weeks before we leave, we find out that we have to fly on the 14th instead of the 15th. Then a few days later it turns into the 13th. We're talking about leaving the country the day after graduation. Kinda tough on some of us with finals and the end of school and everything all packed in, but we just adjust our schedules as best as we can.

Let me pause and go back. A couple months before we leave, we talk to the missionaries about each of us taking a 50 pound bag of supplies and stuff to them. No big deal because we can have two fifty-pound bags and a carry-on. But that's alright because we can get by with 50 pounds of stuff for a summer.
A week before we leave, we are informed that we can only carry 66 pounds of luggage in total, after we have already accepted the missionaries luggage. Two days before we leave, as I am about to leave to get on a plane to Iowa, one of the administrators casually mentions that the weight limit is 44 pounds per person. Awesome. We each get negative 6 pounds of luggage.

For the journey, we are given $2500 in cash. Although this was very exciting to hear initially, it turned out to be not so good. We have to purchase plane tickets and visas while we are in Tanzania for a separate flight itinerary, in order to make it all the way to Mozambique. This wouldn't be so bad by itself. Unfortunately, we have to sleep overnight in a Tanzanian airport - because we have no visas to get into that country.
It's two in the morning. I am about to sleep for about 45 minutes - all the sleep I will get for the night. I pray for safety, since I have $2500 strapped to my body, in the middle of the night in an African airport terminal. In the morning, we are taken through customs, get our tickets, go onto Tanzanian soil without visas, all with no hassle after we pay one of the airport workers $20 because he's our 'friend'. About two days after we left the States, we finally arrive in Mozambique.


And Back Again

A week before we fly back to the States, one of the missionaries calls to confirm his flights to his family in Tanzania. The airline informs him that their flights are no longer running. They are all canceled. It just so happens that this is the same African airline that we plan(ned) on flying with. In a week. A few days later we are informed by Global Outreach that our flights out of Mozambique have been canceled. Thanks for the heads up.

All of us interns have different flights once we get to Zurich, one of our stop-overs. Aaron and Crystal really need to make their flights, because they are both flying to foreign countries with their families shortly after we are supposed to get back to the U.S. The rest of our itinerary stays the same, except for the crucial first flight, which means we would miss all the other ones if we don't make it to Tanzania on time. We frantically contact another airline who has flights on July 5th and 7th. We are supposed to leave on the 6th. A problem. Plus, we don't even know if we can get tickets yet. Meanwhile, we go to the beach, because there is nothing we can do.

We find out eventually that they have one ticket. We draw straws. OK, not really. We give it to Aaron because he has to leave the soonest after he gets back to the States. The rest of us will leave on the 7th and just try and deal with missed flights as best as we can. We escort him to the airport, all taking our luggage with the faint hope that we can go. We all get on the plane that day.

We land in Dar Es Salaam, Tanzania and ask to get on standby for the first flight to Zurich. Unfortunately, there is no such thing as standby in this airport without a fee. We have almost no more traveling money at this point. Instead we call the parents of one of the missionaries we stayed with in Mozambique, who just so happens to live in Dar. And they just so happen to be hosting another intern group from our school. We pay for visas to get into the country and stay with them. We leave the next day, but first we decide to go to a 4th of July party that will be held at the American Embassy on the 6th of July. Why was it on that day? I don't know.

We get stuck in traffic coming back from the party as we try to get to the airport. I believe you should check-in two hours before the flight leaves on international flights. We come racing into the gate maybe 30 minutes before take-off.

Finally, we are all on the plane, back on track. We're going home . . . almost.

That is everyone but myself is back on track.

Unfortunately, there was a mix-up back when the African airline canceled their flights. For some reason, my ticket got scheduled to leave from Zurich on two different days by someone (I still haven't found out who), and neither day was confirmed. So as I hand the airline agent my itinerary, they hand it back with a smile and say, " I'm sorry, you can't go. Someone messed up just your ticket. You can't leave until the 11th." We got into Zurich on 07-07-07. Seven is my lucky number.

So I stay in Zurich. Not too bad. Two other interns planned to be there for a few days, so they'll be with me. Unfortunately, we get there right in the middle of Zurich Fest (aka Beer Fest). Hundreds of outdoor pubs, concerts, restaurants, you name it. Thousands of people cramming into the streets of Old Zurich, a small part of the city where everything is concentrated. And we can't find a single room, except for one small hotel above a bar right in the middle of Zurich Fest.Rock music and throngs of people surround permeate our street until 4 am. By the way, it only happens every 4 years for 3 days in the summer. And we just so happen to get there in the middle of it. Just our luck. ( By the way, the hotel manager looked and sounded exactly liked the landlord from SpiderMan 2 & 3, for all you fans out there)

We decide to head out to find a church for the next day, after a full day of obtaining a place to sleep and food. We start at about 11 pm, finding all the crosses depicted on our map, which represent churches. After an hour and a half of going to these place on various buses and trams and rails in a city none of us have ever been in before, we give up on trying to find an English-speaking one. As we wait at a bus stop to go back to the hotel, I ask a random old couple, I'm talking 70's or 80's who just so happen to be out at 12:30 am, if they know of any churches. They do. The one English speaking church. And they can show us on our map. We thank them and board the bus to finally go back to the room for some much needed sleep. It is now 1 in the morning.

But wait. Public transportation is now shut down along the border of Zurich Fest. Where our hotel is smack dab in the middle of. We have to go, on foot, several blocks, through hundreds of thousands of people, all packed into tiny cobblestone streets, drinking like all the alcohol in the world will magically disappear in the morning, with bands on every corner blasting music. On our first day ever in Zurich. With only a map in German. And mad riots in the streets. And dodging bullets. Ok, I exaggerated a little bit. About the map being in German. But seriously, we were so thankful to finally get to our room that night.

We go to church the next morning and find we have connections with some of the people at this church in Zurich, and they offer us a free room for later.


I finally get on a plane and go home, with only a 3 hour delay and 5 gate changes in Dallas due to thunderstorms. A mere 6 or 7 days after I left Mozambique, I make it back to Iowa.

Looking back on my travel experience, I don't see a disaster, even though it might be interpreted as one. Instead of seeing where things got screwed up and how unreliable people and flights and weather were, I see where God was the only thing I could count on. Going to Africa, I had no clue what I would be doing. But I knew that God would let everything work out and take care of me. Even in an African airport in the middle of the night. And everything went wrong trying to get back home, it wasn't by chance that we all just so happened to get on a flight that would get us to Tanzania, or that we just so happened to know of someone in Tanzania who would take care of us, or that we just so happened to meet a couple at a bus stop in the middle of the night who knew of the one English-speaking church in Zurich where we would encounter Christian hospitality, or that nothing bad happened to us while we were in Zurich during the biggest partying it would see in four years.

Honestly, I am not bitter about anything that went wrong during the trip. Of course things would go wrong and we wouldn't know what to expect from one day to the next. I would highly encourage people to do internships even like the one I went on, because part of the experience is just trusting God. When we decided to take a leap of faith at the start of the internship, we placed ourselves in God's hands. And He didn't betray the trust we put in Him.

Edward, Edward

In AP English towards the end of my senior year, we started in on a poetry unit. At first I thought it would be terrible because I never really liked poems. Until I came to this one. This poem probably had more influence on me becoming an English major than any teacher I had. Not because it is deep and insightful. Not because it made me a better person or revealed some hidden truth. Not because I entirely understood it. Only because I got to read it out loud in class with a Scottish accent. For me, it was a shining ray of light in a dark gloomy classroom. For the first time since the beginning of school, no one was asleep, which is a big deal during a poetry unit in high school English.

I saw it again in a book for one of my English classes this year, and thought I should share it. It is titled Edward, Edward and must be read in a Scottish accent for the full effect.

'Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude,
       Edward, Edward?
Why does your brand sae drop wi' blude,
   And why sae sad gang ye, O?'
'O I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude,
       Mither, mither;
O I hae kill'd my hawk sae gude,
   And I had nae mair but he, O.'

'Your hawk's blude was never sae red,
       Edward, Edward;
Your hawk's blude was never sae red,
   My dear son, I tell thee, O.'
'O I hae kill'd my red-roan steed,
       Mither, mither;
O I hae kill'd my red-roan steed,
   That erst was sae fair and free, O.'

'Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,
       Edward, Edward;
Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair;
   Some other dule ye dree, O.'
'O I hae kill'd my father dear,
       Mither, mither;
O I hae kill'd my father dear,
   Alas, and wae is me, O!'

'And whatten penance will ye dree for that,
       Edward, Edward?
Whatten penance will ye dree for that?
   My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
       Mither, mither;
I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
   And I'll fare over the sea, O.'

'And what will ye do wi' your tow'rs and your ha',
       Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do wi' your tow'rs and your ha',
   That were sae fair to see, O?'
'I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
       Mither, mither;
I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
   For here never mair maun I be, O.'

'And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
       Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife,
   When ye gang owre the sea, O?'
'The warld's room: let them beg through life,
       Mither, mither;
The warld's room: let them beg through life;
   For them never mair will I see, O.'

'And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
       Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear,
   My dear son, now tell me, O?'

'The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear,
       Mither, mither;
The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear:
   Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!'

Keep Going

I have a hard time being the person I want to be. I don't know if anyone else struggles with not living up to what they hope to be, but I seem to struggle with it most of the time. As a Christian, I want to love people like Jesus loved them and to love and seek after God with all my heart. Of course, whenever the distractions of my life come in, this seems like a silly thing. I don't want to stop what I'm doing and help someone; I don't want to talk to someone who is sitting alone at lunch when I have a table full of friends waiting for me; I don't want to give up my weekend to serve people; I don't want to stick up for someone who is being put down, especially if they might "deserve" it; and I definitely don't have the time to sit still once a day and pray and read the Bible. Of course that is besides the lies I might tell, the hurtful words I say, the impure thoughts I think, and all the other ways I go wrong in my day. Every mess-up feels like a slap in the face whenever I make an effort to not be carried away by my day, and after a time I just don't really care. I guess I lose my motivation to keep making an effort to get up after each fall.

After days like that, I don't want to even think about God because I don't want to deal with my own failures. The shame of not doing what I should keeps me from seeking Him, even though God wants a relationship with me 24/7 no matter what I do. As stupid as it sounds, I just want to go away from God for a while until I feel like the residue of my last failure is gone.

I watched Elizabethtown over the break with my family. Orlando Bloom is this shoe designer who lost his company a billion dollars. I liked one part in it where he is kind of moping in self-pity and his girlfriend Kirsten Dunst says to him: "So you failed. Alright. You really failed. You failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed, you failed . . .Wah, wah, wah. You want to be really great? Then have the courage to fail big and stick around. Make 'em wonder why you're still smiling. That's true greatness to me."

C.S. Lewis puts it another way, "What God does for us, He does in us. The process of doing it will appear to me to be the daily or hourly repeated exercises of my own will in renouncing this attitude . . . We may never, this side of death, drive the invader out of our territory, but we must be in the Resistance." In essence, I have to begin again daily, even hourly in living my life as a disciple of Christ. And true greatness is found in not running away after each failure, but getting back up and dealing with life head-on.

I guess my simple prayer tonight is this: that I will have the courage to get up after each fall, and the desire to begin anew again each day.

Into The Unknown

This is an old post that I never published. It was from when I first came to college, just for a time reference.

There is a beautiful scene in Prince Caspian where Lucy is talking with Aslan after having just found him after returning to Narnia. Unfortunately I can't quote it from memory, but I can tell the basics of it. Aslan tells Lucy to wake her sleeping brothers and sister and follow him. None of the others are able to see him yet, but she is supposed to just tell them to follow her. She has no assurance that her siblings will listen to her, the youngest of four. All she is told is to follow Aslan.

God doesn't always give me the answers to the questions I ask Him. ie: who should I date? what should I be involved in? I thought if I came to Harding and got into college, God would show me the person I am supposed to date and stuff. I thought if I tried out for Theatron (a skit group here at Harding), God would put me in that ministry. Instead He says, "I am not going to tell you where you are going or who you will meet. All I will say is follow me." So that's what I am going to do, as best as I can.

Sometimes, I wish God would tell me about my future. Just show me where I am going and what my goal is here on earth. Not the churchy, idealistic, "Go and make disciples all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit." I mean I want to know things like, "This is the girl you are going to marry, or this is what she is like." or "This is what you should do while you are in such and such place." But I don't know if God micromanages my life like that. I wonder if He leaves certain things up to me that could still be a part of His plan. Maybe it is just a matter of following where He leads, and keeping my eyes focused on Him, and then everything else will just fall into place.

Thank goodness that God gives us examples to follow after. The author of Hebrews talks about all kinds of situations in which people followed God's leading, even though the destinaiton was not known.

11:32(ff) And what more shall I say? I do not have time to tell about Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, David, Samuel and the prophets, who through faith conquered kingdoms, administered justice, and gained what was promised; who shut the mouths of lions, quenched the fury of the flames, and escaped the edge of the sword; whose weakness was turned to strength; and who became powerful in battle and routed foreign armies. Women received back their dead, raised to life again. Others were tortured and refused to be released, so that they might gain a better resurrection. Some faced jeers and flogging, while still others were chained and put in prison. They were stoned; they were sawed in two; they were put to death by the sword. They went about in sheepskins and goatskins, destitute, persecuted and mistreated— the world was not worthy of them. They wandered in deserts and mountains, and in caves and holes in the ground. These were all commended for their faith, yet none of them received what had been promised.

People in the book of Hebrews who followed God and never saw their goal. God said go and do this, and they responded. I find that it's easy to follow God when you like where He is leading you, but what if it seems like He is leading you by hand into the dark, into caves and holes in the ground, and He just says trust me and hold tight? What does that look like? It's Indiana Jones stepping off a ledge to save his father. It's Eustace and Jill cutting the cords off a stark raving madman, who is their prince. It's the Nait Saint, Jim Elliot and the other missionaries who took the Gospel to savages in Ecuador; it's their wives returning to the savages after they speared and hacked their husbands. It's Naomi saying wherever you go I will follow. It's Abraham going up the mountain to sacrifice Isaac.

I find that it is not so important that I know where I am going, or what I need to be doing in life. What is truly important is that I am following God as he leads me through. I have to trust that if I keep my eyes on him, all these other things will fall into place. As frightening as it might be, sometimes seeking after God is following him into the dark, into the unknown where you have only your faith in him. God doesn't always tell what will happen in life if we do what he wants. He just asks us to follow him.

Me: "Where are we going God?"
God: "Just wait a while, you will see in time."
Me: "But I need to know."
God: "Why? You don't have to know the destination if you just follow the road."

"O LORD Almighty, blessed is the man who trusts in you."

Third Day - "Mountain of God"
Thought that I was all alone
Broken and afraid
But You were there with me
Yes, You were there with me

And I didn't even know
That I had lost my way
But You were there with me
Yes, You were there with me

'Til You opened up my eyes
I never knew
That I couldn't ever make it
Without You

Even though the journey's long
And I know the road is hard
Well, the One who's gone before me
He will help me carry on
After all that I've been through
Now I realize the truth
That I must go through the valley
To stand upon the mountain of God

As I travel on the road
That You have lead me down
You are here with me
Yes, You are here with me
I have need for nothing more
Oh, now that I have found
That You are here with me
Yes, You are here with me

I confess from time to time
I lose my way
But You are always there
To bring me back again

Sometimes I think of where it is I've come from
And the things I've left behind
But of all I've had, what I possessed
Nothing can quite compare
With what's in front of me
With what's in front of me

(After final Chorus)
I thought that I was all alone
Broken and afraid
But, You are here with me
Yes, You are here with me.

Sex Trafficking

One of my strongest beliefs, and you might call it a strength, is my concern for those who are being mistreated and abused and who are powerless to stop it. It has been something that has influenced my life, and played a large part in my decisions about the future. I recently had to do a speech in one of my classes for a major grade, and it had to be about something in the news. I decided at the time, that it would be a good idea to talk about sex trafficking, because it is something that few people know enough about and I am very passionately against it.

As I thought about it over the following weeks, I desired to give this speech less and less. It would have to be a very grave speech, and I really did not look forward to exposing such dark secrets to my class because it would make me feel uncomfortable. Several times I thought about switching topics to something a little less weighty and serious, something that would be easier to write a speech about, where I could slack off and not feel so bad. But then, I stopped to think about it. The stories I would tell and the hidden crimes I would reveal to my classmates are already terrible enough. In each story, someone was helpless against the atrocities committed against them, and in many cases it was because no one spoke out. And I wondered why it was that sex trafficking isn't in the news so much and why I barely knew anything about it before I researched it and why I felt a strong desire to cop out and not talk about it. And in all honesty, I think that it is because there are spiritual forces in this world, powers that influence what evil things go on and what lies hidden behind closed doors. For some of you, this may be too weird and a little cheesy, that I would attribute my desire to wimp out of a speech to Satan and not to laziness. But I think that these feelings and others are part of a spiritual and physical war against Adam's race, God's children.

It was the hardest speech for me to research and write, because I knew the stories of so many victims of sex trafficking and could not help but feel sorrowful pain for them. If you are brave enough to feel the grief of reading these women's and childrens' stories, please feel free to do your own research. I am no expert on this topic, and so you wouldprobably gain a better knowledge of it by teaching yourself. Here are some links you can follow:

http://abcnews.go.com/Primetime/story?id=1596778&page=1
http://www.captivedaughters.org/
http://www3.baylor.edu/~Charles_Kemp/sex_trafficking_details.htm
http://www.ijm.org/NETCOMMUNITY/Page.aspx?&pid=178&srcid=-2

Sex Trafficking. An unsightly blight that thrives in our society. It is something that we would rather not talk about, and a shameful sin that we do not know enough about, especially here in America. Now I am not just talking about prostitution or pornography, I am talking about human slavery, the selling of young men and women, even girls and boys, to brothels and their subsequent abuse, mistreatment and in many cases murder.

As I first began to hear about this and learn more, I was shocked to discover the Western worlds influence in the perpetuation of this global problem. Particularly America’s part in it. As one US Embassy official states, “Mexican officials see sex trafficking as a U.S. problem. If there wasn't such a large demand, then people -- trafficking victims and migrants alike -- wouldn't be going up there.”

According to the FBI, there are over 100,000 children and young women being trafficked in America today. The ages range anywhere from 9-19, with the average age being 11. The CIA estimates that there are 18,000 – 20,000 people trafficked into the US each year. MY thesis is: the sex trade in America is a terrible cancer that is taking the lives and hopes of many young men and women

Many of the stories of these forced sex slaves are similar: women from all over the world are either persuaded with lies or outright kidnapped and forced to leave their home. Others are sold by poor parents to pimps who are willing to pay lots of money for children. At home, these children are not worth a cent to their family. In the sex trade, they become worth thousands. After this, pimps will smuggle them into a foreign country, like America, where these children are considered illegal immigrants. Most often, pimps sneak them in through Mexico, where authorities usually just check the ID’s of those who look Hispanic trying to get into the country.

In one situation a girl we’ll call Debbie was abducted from her driveway in a middle class neighborhood here in America, when an acquaintance pushed her in a car and drove off. Not all stories are like Debbie’s; other victims are lured by offers of jobs from a charismatic and friendly person. Once they meet up with this person, things go downhill quickly. They are often held against their will in squalid conditions during their “breaking in” period. During this time, they are raped repeatedly and beaten by the pimps who captured them, before being exposed to other men. This “breaking in” serves as training grounds for what will become a way of life for these women and children.

When she wasn’t being raped, Debbie was forced into a small dog cage until her entire body was numb. Her captors fed her dog biscuits and degraded her until she had almost no hope left. She was one of the rare fortunate ones to break out of this gruesome nightmare of abuse and degradation. Police received a tip one day to an apartment, where they found her stuffed in a drawer under a bed. After 40 days of sexual abuse she was finally set free. She was 15, the age most children are freshmen in high school.

This would not be possible if there weren’t such a demand for this kind of trade among Americans. Many of the men who raped Debbie had wives and children. Another girl we’ll call Annie would have Bible Scriptures read to her before and after she was raped. She was 7 at the time. The scary thing about this crime is that the perpetrators who demand these acts often look like your next door neighbor.

For others not so fortunate as Debbie, pimps will put ads for sex and take these girls on tours across the US, where they will be raped again and again, sometimes being forced to have sex with 15 men a day, seven days a week. Rarely do these men wear a condom and sometimes will pay extra to beat their victims. They do this to maximize profits – $10,000-30,000 a week. All the while, their captors use psychological tactics to keep them from running away. They are controlled mainly through fear and thus kept from feeling to the authorities. Those who were brought into the country can’t speak English and wouldn’t know where to turn even if they could escape. Debbie was told that if she ran, her family would be killed and her baby niece, 19 months old, would have battery acid thrown on her. So she stayed out of love to keep her family alive.

Part of the solution to this problem lies in the very nature of sex trafficking. In order for pimps to carry out business, they have to advertise, either by putting girls in visible places or posting on the internet. Gary Haugen, the president of International Justice Mission says, “It's the easiest kind of crime in the world to spot. Men look for it all day, every day.'' It is one of the few human rights violations that require public exposure to continue. Many of the times when victims are freed, it is due to a tip from a third party, such in Debbie’s case. These girls are out in public, and so it is up to all people to be aware of the people they interact with on a daily basis. In one story, a cab driver giving a ride to a victim found out what was going on and was able to help her escape. One way that pimps exchange sex slaves who are children is color coded shirts in "Disneyland"(here I confess I don't know if the author of the article literally meant Disneyland). The main thing is that if the pimps are advertising their victims, someone has to be able to see them. Every single person can make a difference by being involved with the people in their lives. By talking to those who seem like they might be the victims of abuse or telling someone when things don’t seem right you could be making a huge difference in these people’s lives. Keep in mind that many victims are held captive in middle class neighborhoods. Annie, the 7-year-old, actually stayed in a middle class home with a family for a while. Instead of telling authorities, the family just sat around her watching TV, either because they didn’t care or because they were being paid too well by her captors to not help the 7-year-old child prostitute.

Another part of the solution would be to monitor the Internet, specifically escort services that are used as ads for sex. Pimps will often take pictures of their victims to post online, and within hours men come knocking at their doors demanding sex. If the perpetrators can find them so easily, then can’t government agencies find them as well?

In addition to these, a change is required in law enforcement, particularly when deporting immigrants. Whenever police find these victims, they lump them into a group with all the other prostitutes and illegal immigrants they pick up. They assume that these women are selling their bodies out of choice, and that undocumented foreign prostitutes are committing an additional crime by sneaking into the country. Therefore it is imperative that officers are trained to look for prostitutes who are subject to abuse and get help for victims of sex trafficking. Programs should be established to aid those who are forced to prostitute their bodies. Foreigners should be allowed to live here if they want rather than be deported. Additional border security and special attention paid to children would also help to decrease the flow of sex trafficking into America.

What we simply cannot do is that which is easiest to do: nothing. To go on with our lives and not give these helpless victims aid. Their world is one of darkness, where abuse and rape are the order of every day, and their only value is how much pleasure perverts derive from them. Although voiceless, their scarred bodies and broken hearts cry out for help. They need someone to step in and be an advocate for them. And we must answer this call.

Landesman, Peter. “The Girls Next Door”. New York Times. Jan. 25, 2004. Dec. 2, 2006. <http://www3.baylor.edu/~Charles_Kemp/sex_trafficking_details.htm>

“Teen Girls’ Stories of Sex Trafficking in U.S.” ABC News. Feb. 9, 2006. Dec. 4, 2006.

“What is Human Trafficking.” Sex Trafficking. Salvation Army. 2006. Dec. 4, 2006.

<http://www.salvationarmyusa.org/usn/www_usn.nsf/ce952dea4507ee7780256cf4005d2254/8203847f6ba996e585256f25005d5274?OpenDocument#Sample%20Cases>

Dependent

Tonight I was reading Psalm 63 for a bible study I go to. In the whole psalm, David is talking about how he yearns for God and praises him. Part of it says "Because your love is better than life, my lips will glorify you." David knew in his heart that God's love was more important than anything else in his life, so much that he desired it like water in a desert. I think David knew in his heart that something is needed there, something outside of himself.

I know in my heart, that I am not complete without something outside of myself. I feel like a person gasping for air and trying to make it through life like that. I have started to come to realize that the air I need so desperately for life is God's love. So often I feel like I seek God whenever I have time, or whenever I am feeling especially down. I think that I can fill my life with other things besides him and still be ok. That's the same mentality as a drowning person needing a cool glass of lemonade for everything to be alright. Other times I just get distracted by everything going on around me, which seems to be especially easy at college. I can lose sight of God in the midst of trying to make friends, keep up my grades, decide my future (ha), or even going to chapels and devos. God doesn't want sacrifices and lip service. He wants my heart, he wants me to need him because as CS Lewis says, "God designed the human machine to run on himself . . . There is no other."

I am coming to realize that it doesn't matter what else you have going on in your life, no matter how great and noble they may be, you need God like you need air to live. Truly, something as great and noble as a ministry, bible study, and possibly even frisbee cannot compare to my desperate need for God's love. Some might consider it somewhat weak to be dependent on someone other than yourself for true life. Sometimes our society feeds us the delusion that to be a real man or to find contentment, you have to look within yourself. Well, I never was very good at finding things on my own. So, I am ready to confess: I am wholly dependent on God's love for my life to function. Without it, I am an incomplete wreck who struggles to eke out a pitiful existence. Sorry, not even wonderful friends, family, success, popularity, girlfriends, money, social clubs, frisbee, or anything life has to offer can fill this need in my heart.

Oh Lord, your love is better than life.

Pledging

So, I pledged Chi Sig's this past week and it was insanely busy. I had to do all the club stuff and still go to school. It was so bad, I missed frisbee all week long. But there are a lot of really awesome Christian men in the club (and amazing Queens), which is why I joined in the first place, so it was definitely worth it. I am really looking forward to all the things we will do together as a club (including a camping retreat coming up). I got know the guys I was pledging with pretty well, but not as well as I thought I would. Everyone I know talks about how the guys they pledged with are their best friends and stuff, but I don't really feel the same way. Maybe that will come later.

One thing I will say about clubs is that the rivalries and such are stupid. At times, it almost seems like junior high the way people do childish things to other clubs and make chants about other clubs. Other than that, I think clubs are great, if you are in the right club that will bring you into a closer relationship with God. Also, I think it is kinda dumb the way people can be so gung-ho about their clubs, especially on a Christian campus. It's like they don't associate with people from a certain club or think they are better than others because of a club they are in, even though we are all brothers and sisters in Christ. Sometimes they let their membership in a club blind them from their membership in Christ's body. I think it is great to have a close relationship with those in your club and to think highly of them. But for the people out there who honestly think that your specific club is better than the rest just because you joined it, you are wrong.

Unless you just pledged Chi Sigma Alpha because that is the club Jesus would have pledged if he had gone to Harding.