Balance

I’ve hit a stretch where it is hard to write. I don’t think it’s writers block, at least not in the oppressive mind numbing sense, I just don’t feel like I have that much to say. Great way to start a blog right?
What’s even better is I’m preaching on Sunday and I have no idea what to talk about… the upside is that I know I’m preaching several days in advance rather than being told Sunday morning, so… Yippee, at least I get to pray about it?
The funny thing is, I’m looking forward to preaching. I’ve found that preaching is kinda like praying for people, having an idea and a plan for what “I” want to do or accomplish usually falls flat, regardless of the quality or competence of the effort. Likewise, when I don’t have anything to pray, or even feel like praying, as long as I stick with it long enough I remember that the value comes from what God does or wants to do. I think the trick is to remember from the start, and think, pray, and work down that path with the expectation that God can give you a message before you are standing in front of a bunch of people with your butt hanging out… not that that isn’t fun sometimes.
I guess there is a life lesson in there somewhere. Trying to figure out when and how to work and plan and when to just go for it and trust the net/rope/wings/God opens your life up to a bunch of… well… life. Life that you wouldn’t have had access to if you only operated within the comfort of your plans and abilities or in the passivity of waiting for the moment before doing anything.

In Gulu

I feel like I should post, but the truth is I don't really have anything to say. A lot is going on, but for whatever reason it hasn't effected me yet.
So I'm up in Gulu in the northern part of Uganda (heart of the LRA, Invisible Children, issued-up gov't stuff). I spent the last two days interviewing child soldiers and people who had been abducted by the LRA. For some of them it was easy to talk about for others not. Some of them escaped after a few days and "just" went through the normal African conflict stuff, while others spent years as children forced into war. Some have physical scars, some have nightmares, some have babies, all of them went through shit.
At some point I realized that to me their lives were just words, some of them I felt for, but I couldn't identify with any of them. It was really strange, I think it was the first time I was in such a personal situation with people and their stories where it wasn't ministry related. At a few points I almost asked if I could pray with them, but I didn't. I was there to get their stories and to figure out if there is stuff CHF can do to help them out of the extreme poverty that they are dealing with. There weren't any rules against praying or loving them, it's just that there was other stuff to do, other people to talk to... There is a lot of I don't know right now.