It is not a secret that I am a big reader of all blogs concerning leadership in ministry since my desire points in that general direction.

A not-so-recent posting from one of my favorite pastors, Perry Noble (mentioned previously here) entitled “You’re Not Deep Enough” speaks about those Christians who criticize pastors not being deep enough with their sermons.

By the term “those Christians”, I really mean, “me”. I used to refer pastors like that who never did more than “serve up food, buffet style” to those of us who are hungry. He hits the note exactly:

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“I’ve heard it…you have too…”Christians” saying, “I just want to be fed!” It blows my mind! This would be equal to you and I going to an all you can eat restaurant and crying because no one would bring us any food. Food is all around in this environment…but if the person is lazy and self centered, wanting to be waited on hand and foot, then they could possibly starve to death when food is merely a few feet away.”

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I used to let this very selfish way of thinking keep me from the very fellowship that my heart wanted and desire. It was this thinking that kept me from actually worshiping my God. I thought I could keep using this excuse in hopes to finding the “perfect” church where I could be served “steak and wine”. I was given this taste of the good life when my former pastor led leadership classes on Tuesday nights. The thought dropped into my mind, “Why can’t he preach like this on Sunday mornings?”.

Truth be told, it wasn’t just the selfish idea of wanting to be fed better. What those classes really did, among many things, is plant the seed of a desire to get my discipleship in order. Sure it took ten years to do so but it worked. God needed me changed and He has been doing a work in me that has taken a long, long time. I am just glad I am now running to Him rather than crawling.

I have about three days left in the beautiful country of South Africa and with the very beautiful people who live here.  I am beyond all kinds of fortunate to get to know the cities of Durban, Pietermaritzburg (PMB or ‘Maritzburg for short) and all the points in-between on the N3 highway in the providence of KwaZulu-Natal (or KZN for short).  I am extremely lucky to spend one month here, living in a flat, driving a car on the left side of road and figuring out my way around both cities.

Some of the things about South Africa:

I love it when strangers come to me and say, "I notice by your accent that you are an American… might I ask you some questions?".

I love debating with these same strangers who is tougher: American football players or rugby players.  (No question: rugby players are much tougher.)

I love getting caught up in the excitement of the South Africa Springboks in the Rugby Cup Finals in France.  (Go ‘Boks!)

I notice that when Americans don’t understand what somebody else says, we say "huh?".   We should say, "Pardon?".

I am trying to be quicker with the metric conversations in my head.  (I stand at 1.95 metres weighing in at 118kg).

Church services at Durban Christian Centre are absolutely fantastic.  Now I have  a church to go to if I am anywhere in KZN.

Even better: since they asked for visitors outside of the country to stand, everybody at church got to see me and my boss.  Five hours later that same day as we went shopping across town, one churchgoer recognized me and came up to see if we were doing okay.

I have started to study isiZulu (language of Zulu).  I am always practicing my "click" consonants of c (sucking through your teeth), q (popping the roof of your mouth) and x (clicking with the sides of your tongue).

I love when you start sharing your testimonies with others, people start gathering around you.  When I look at their faces, I can see so much joy and hope that it simply overwhelms my heart.

It was so easy to make friends here.  I had and have so many standing home dinner invites that I easily forget that I am not back home.

Same as in America, when you pass strangers on the street and you give a smile and a "hello", you get the warmest responses right back at you. 

Even better still:  walking the streets of Durban for the first time, I smiled and waved at a group of older women passing by.  One lady said something to me in Zulu which my friend had to translate.  She smiled and said, "That man looks like Jesus."

I thank God that I have only seen one McDonald’s since being here.  (Because of that, I call South Africa "Bastion of Hope".)

Nando’s and Machacho’s are better chicken places than anything we have back in the States.  There isn’t even a close 2nd place.

Somehow, numerous people have taken it upon themselves to look for a South African wife for me.  (Note: if I wanted to marry a Zulu woman, I have to come up with a certain number of heads of cattle as dowry to her father.  For some reason, with me being a Texan, this didn’t sound all that strange.)

I love the people of South Africa.

All of that said, I miss the people back home.  I miss my family.  I miss my friends.  I miss my church.  Most of all, I miss my son.  I cannot wait to hold him in my arms again.

Most of all, I thank God for all that he is given me.  Only He could have me in South Africa seven weeks after losing my job.

For some reason, I know in my heart that I will be back and not just for a simple visitation.

About a couple of years ago, one of my best friends (and somebody who keeps me accountable) told me something about marriage that has been burned into my heart since the moment I heard it.

As he counsels couples (especially young couples), they will inevitably ask, "How do you and your wife do ‘it’?" (whatever ‘it’ may be for lack of a better term).

He responds with, "Throughout your marriage you are going to be hurt by your spouse or you are going to hurt your spouse.  Being inconsiderate, rude, hurtful, prideful, destroyer… whatever, pick your poison.  If you were hurt by your spouse, you have to have the heart and the mind not only to forgive that person but to uplift that person.  In turn, your spouse, knowing full well that they have hurt you but seeing that you have forgave and uplift them, they in turn have to encourage and uplift you.  Back and forth, so on and so forth.  You have to be in this pattern of continuing to pull each other upwards."

That might sound idealistic at first but think of what happens when we don’t uplift each other in the marriage:  I hurt you in some way and that begins the pulling down.  You hold onto that hurt and you do something in retaliation and pull us down yet again.  So on and so forth into a pattern of a spiral downwards.

In the end, you are speaking to each other as always being on the offensive looking for the opening to hurt each other.  If you think that sounds incredibly painful, try living it.  Ask me about it and I will show you the scars.

I knew all about analogy going into that Thursday therapy session.  What does not come as shock is that the counselor spoke about the very same idea.  (Thus proving my friend to be a very wise man indeed.) 

My ex-wife told the counselor in the very end that she had several revelations in that 3 hour session.  In my heart, I don’t care if she got anything else but I hope that she embraces and fully acknowledges the idea of continually uplift and encourage versus spiraling towards destruction and doom. 

In all, I wanted her to embrace it because it was one of, if not the, harshest lesson that I have ever learned in my life.  Essentially by the time I was given that nugget of wisdom, I have already lost my wife, lost my marriage and thus, losing sight of the image and likeness of God here on earth.

I was speaking to a fellow blogger today and while our conversation was on another topic, I told her something that I think applies here: "I don’t mind going through the pains, heartaches and hardships of what I went so so long as nobody else has to go through them.  I want to be the example.  I don’t want anybody else feeling that hurt and pain that I did in my life."  If there is somehow I can eloquently convey my marriage experience to another in order to save their marriage, then surely I can rest and rest well.

For those who know me or has read my blog since the beginning, I have a extensive music collection.  Naturally, for a month long trip out of the country, I armed myself with a loaded 160GB iPod and crank up some tuneage… err, so to speak.

So the guys I am working with found out about my music collection.  One likes Classic Rock (which I do) and one likes R&B and Hip-Hop (which I do as well). So, you would think that it would be easy to play DJ.

Not so much.  Especially one guy doesn’t like the other guy’s music.

I said, screw it, threw on some headphones and cranked up some worship.

I got called into a separate office, here in Africa (not my own), on machine repair.  I walked in and start flipping my head around because I swore I heard "Hosanna" by Hillsong United.  The guys asked if something wrong and I said, "Oh nothing, I think I am going crazy because I am hearing a song I love."

I wasn’t crazy.  These guys were listening to worship.  To them, solid praise and worship was a part of their work environment just like ringing phones and after hours sessions of "Call of Duty".

To me, I felt overjoyed.  To them, it was nothing.

Halfway around the world and I feel like I am at home.  Now pardon me while I go score another double macchiato from Wimpy’s.

I would suck if I didn’t share the following chat session that I had with my ex-wife.  (The times are 5:30PM South Africa time which is 10AM Central Time):

5:29 PM Nichole: good lawd the boy just stopped crying

5:30 PM but only because i’m making him have a knap

 by the way, he’s clutching that picture of you

 me: probably sleepy

 Nichole: very emotional

5:32 PM me: apparently

5:36 PM obviously you are not in church

 Nichole: i had actually thought about going, but where to go?

5:37 PM me: either or

5:38 PM Nichole: yusef is missing the routine of going to church and then seeing mims

 me: you could always go to Gateway but I don’t need the boy’s mom pondering various ways of ending her life

 ah

 well

 he loves going to Gateway

 other churches, not so much

 next week

 if you go

5:39 PM check him in using the last four digits of my cell number

 2174

 Yusef will tell you how to get to his classroom

Translation: my ex-wife wanted to go to church because she knows that my son wants to go to church every single weekend.

God doesn’t change our hearts.  Rather He lets the people impact our lives in such a way that we desire to change our heart.