Lost in Faith

My fondest memory of Napa was a tour conducted by a gentlemen with a slight British accent dressed in safari garb. His insight into grapes, the growing process, and wine making kept us memsmerzed for 90 minutes. He worked at Mondavi’s main Winery.

So when I hear the name Mondavi, I always think fondly of Robert Mondavi, his work and his lore.

God rest his soul!

As I watched Roy on stage Sunday morning, an interesting thought occurred to me.
“My God, this is how I’m going to die.”
Roy stood there—bathed in a red glow that reminded me of the depictions of Hell I had seen from old Looney Tunes shorts—and I would have sworn that he had a maniacal glimmer in his eye.
“This is how I’m going to die—that madman up there is going to burn the whole church down and I’m going to die in this building—having never seen the Pacific Ocean, still a virgin, and having left a load of wet jeans in the washing machine.”
I suppose you could say that I had shot off a few flares of my own at that moment. I sat there, listening to the slow-burning ambient noise of the flare. To me, the sound of long, drawn-out “sssssshhhhhhh” of the flare was kind of hypnotizing. It was interesting to listen and to look at this small, rather simple object, probably no bigger than a rolled up newspaper—and to wonder about how much damage that simple, little object could cause if it were mishandled or misplaced.
I had trouble taking my eyes off of it. So I sat there as Roy kept speaking and I just stared at this simple little thing sitting in a metal tub on top of a table on top of a stage.
Now anybody that knows me, might correctly be under the assumption that I bottle things up. I like to take the more frustrating aspects of life and sweep them under a little rug inside my head. I store them there until they either eat a bigger hole into the floor or they coming bursting out of the sides of the rug.
But to my credit, sometimes, things are just hard to talk about. Not necessarily because you don’t think people will care (I am lucky enough to have friends that do). Not because you don’t think people will understand (I am lucky enough to have friends that often will). Not even because you don’t want to talk about things (I usually feel the greatest pain when I refuse to release a secret or a hurt that is desperately trying to claw it’s way out).
No, sometimes, things are hard to talk about just because—well—the words are hard to find.
I feel like a maniac a lot of times because I simply can’t find the right words to express what’s going on inside of me. Maybe it feels like I can’t think of the right time to say something or maybe the time is right, but my tongue feels like it’s been inflated like a balloon and I stutter and stammer over my words. Sometimes I’ll release a flood of words that in my head sounded like a confession or an apology or a plea, but actually came out sounding like I had caught my tongue in a hand mixer.
And that’s why I do exactly what Roy did—I take that feeling or thought and (just like a flare) I turn it upside down and stick it in the ground. I figure that if I can’t see fire and I can’t see smoke, then it’s dealt with. No worries.
And that probably works most of the time. Turn it over and jam it into the ground once and all the smoke and all the fire just disappears. But there’s still fuel there. There are still bits of leftover kindling just waiting for the next flame to come give it a kiss.

Now at about the same time every year, I see stories all over the news about how California’s being ravaged with wildfires. And unless it’s arson, it’s pretty much for the same reason every time.
The ground was too dry. Leaves, dried twigs, and dead grass made perfect kindling. Oh, and people built too close to the trees, so guess what? Those homes are in danger of getting roasted like Lincoln Logs in an Easy-Bake Oven.
It never fails. You leave that much flammable stuff just lying around and eventually, it can come back to get you.
Granted, nobody’s going to rake the entire Pacific Northwest.
Nobody’s going to go through California with a hose and water the grass.
Just like nobody’s going to pick up your dead flares for you. Nobody notices a flare on the side of the road if it’s not blaring red. Nobody remembers a used flare. A cold flare just doesn’t seem dangerous.
But there’s still fuel. There’s still something to burn. So the next time a burning flare get jammed into the ground—but doesn’t quite go out—it could start a forest fire. And anybody’s who’s built their home to close to your forest might get burned.

I wonder…
…What if I had a set of special glasses? Glasses that allowed me to see the flares people carried. Imagine I could only see the flares when I wore these glasses.
In a single day, how many people would I see, at a standstill, arms raised up high, burning a flare for all to see?
In a single day, how many people would I see, sitting alone on the ground, holding a flare behind their back and pretending it isn’t really there?
And in a single day, how many people would I see standing in their own personal fields, miles and miles of spent flares planted upside down into the ground, on their knees begging for no more?
Take the glasses off, and it probably all looks like business as usual.

If I’m ever driving at night, I rarely ever see road flares. But if I do, it’s probably because something very bad has happened. Usually it’s a car wreck where somebody has gotten badly hurt or worse. It just seems like common sense on the highway not to use a flare if you are low on gas or if you are lost or if you just can’t stand the idiot you’re driving with. We only use them when it’s life or death.
But you can’t do that in your heart and your mind. Because even though you don’t lie out your flares for all the passerby’s to see and you don’t signal for help that often, you still light them. It’s as involuntary as your heartbeat. You get hurt. You light a flare. You get ignored. You light a flare. You get upset. Light a flare. Lighting a flare is an involuntary action.
The voluntary action—the part where you get to participate—is in deciding what to do with that flare.

38 years ago while visting Paris with her parents, Candy had a portrait drawn of her and her brother in Monmarte. Monmarte is a famous artist colony in northern Paris adjacent to the Sacre Coeur Church. Hundreds of artist gather each day and offer their talents tothe public. I took a few photos!

http://www.kyte.tv/channels/rss.html?uri=channels/49199

For those who love the pics, check out my picasa web site for all the pictures so far http://picasaweb.google.com/royemoran.

Checking the hotel accomodations Candy discovered that she didn’t book the night of the 22nd. Sitting in the Ferry Terminal she picked the Solley House Farm in Worth. We road the train and sat next to a angel of a man who showed us the footpath to walk to the farm house. Upon arrival Candy died and went to England.

You’d swear that if you walked into the wardrobe you’d end up in Narnia. www.solleyfarmhouse.co.uk for a peek.

All of my life I’ve been told by the media in various manner and even in person that the French people are rude and down right mean to Americans. Various ideas have been put forth the explain their anti-American bias but none of it has stood the test of my experience.

President Sarkozy has instituted a campaign to get Parisoners to SMILE and be friendly. I experienced it working. I had a Parisoner pay for my cab from the ferry to the Train station in exchange for a kiss from my wife. Who wouldn’t want my wife to kiss them!

This morning we say good bye to Paris. 4 wonderful days of Mona Lisa, Eiffel Tower, the Left Bank, Monet, Van Gogh, sidewalk restaurants and long walks along the Seine.

Paris, I may never be back, but I will never forget!

Thanks Sarkozy, your campaign to make your countrymen friendlier is working!

Monday
arrived at noon in London took the Underground to Victoria Station and ate a delightful Spanish Tapas Restaurant. Took a bus to Gatwick Airport and flew out at 7 pm. Arrive in Warsaw at 1O:30 pm and in bed by 12!

Tuesday
Travel to Zakosciele to meet with Proem staff.

We spent the morning in a Q & A session about Shoal Creek, leadership development, volunteer recruitment, spiritual formation. After lunch we toured the Tomy Center where ProEm has started a preschool which has taken off. They have 44 kids in the preschool with a waiting list of 26. It is funded partially by the city government and the parents. The preschool shares a building with the language school which starts as the preschool ends.

Next stop the new Tomy Christian Fellowship Center which is a renovated theater in downtown Tomaszow 85% complete and need about $150,000 to finish. It is going to be a great place for them if they can get in it.

Eufuria was the next resbit. A quaint little coffee house in Tomaszow complete with free internet wireless. We spent an hour and a half with Rafal and Agneiska Piekarski. Rafal leads the Tomy church and Agneiska was 9 months pregnant. She delivered a 9 pound baby in an hour and half less that 24 hours later. We had a delightful time discussing the future of ProEm’s church planting strategy.

Dinner at Michael and Karolina’s, yes of Shoal Creek fame. The entire staff of the Tomy church joined us and the evening was an energetic discussion of why Shoal Creek does ministry the way they do. Adam is on staff at the Tomy church and he works mainly in schools. He is a former alcoholic and drug addict so he runs an anti drug program for several different public school as a church staff member! Robert is Rafal’s right hand. He administrates all the just about everything about Tomy from preschool, language school, outreach events, etc. It was fascinating to listen to Michael and Karolina explain Shoal Creek to their fellow staff members.

Wednesday

After breakfast we jumped into the car and toured several sites that ProEm is considering for their next church plant cities like Opoczno, Lodz (pronounced wooge) and several other unpronounceable cities. We talked and drove exploring each cities benefits and liabilities. These cities ranged from 30,000 to 800,000 and not one of them had more than 4 churches while most didn’t have one.

Ending up at the apartment of Przemek and Agata Dwulat. We had dinner with Przemek, Agata, Michael, Karolina and JOLA! It was a delightful connecting with them and especially Jola. After dinner we walked into the Old Town of Warsaw. Much like Kansas Citian would walk the Plaza only instead of being built in 1957 it was built in 1457. Old World, really, old world!

Listening to them talk about dreams of ministry in their country is enough to make this old heart come out of my chest. Imagine, they live in a country of 40 million with only 40,000 Christians. A country in the grip of exploding capitalism and still held captive by the legalism of old world religion.

To bed much later than 50 year olds should but walking with these young folks sharing visions of the expansion of Jesus’ kingdom in a barren land makes the adrenalin flow.

Thursday

Long breakfast discussion with Maui and Eva about the church planting strategy for ProEm and then off to Zakosciele for a pastors conference with Alliance for Saturation Church Planting in Poland. We had lunch with pastors and missionaries and discussions about the state of the church in Poland and the success of church planting in Poland. It was a depressing time. The existing church in Poland is not in very good shape and church planting efforts around Poland are not achieving much success.

A brief break from Poland for a conference call with South African folks. Fence has started in Seleni and Michael Hale informs us that the Dolphins are running of Coast of Port St. Johns.

The late afternoon was spent with John and Jaba Crozier. John is an American who met and married Jaba a Pole and now the run a language school and preschool. Visiting with Jaba is like taking a happy pill. She keeps you in stitches. They are making series inroads into Tomascov thru these two organizations.

Ate dinner with pastors and drove back to Warsaw with Maui and Eva to catch a 6:30 am plane to London. Maui and I continued our discussion about personnel and planting strategies. We are the same age and the opportunity to provide a sounding board to a colleague is invigorating.

Tomorrow starts at 4 am for an adventure across the English Channel, White Cliffs of Dover and all.

Formerly (little) known as Pondoland for Christ has now become Mercy Alliance International.

Mercy Alliance International is comprised of Shoal Creek Community Church, Westside Family Church, Indian Creek Community Church, HuntSA, Oceans of Mercy, Luvoyo Bible School and leaning on University of Ft. Hare, C3 Missions, ThriveAfrica and Doctors for Life Int’l. Truly an ALLIANCE!

Our first project is an Orphan Care Center in Seleni, South Africa. This Care Center will be the central place for the care of orphans, agricultural educational, HIV/AIDS training, spiritual formation, teaching Leadership Summit material in public schools and legal aid for accessing the social service system in South Africa.

Each Center will cost about $40,000 to build and about $2000 a month to maintain. Seleni is a model for the 1000 other villages in the Transkei. Once we get this model fully operational, we will be ready to secure churches and organizations to join the alliance and pop up these little redemptive places called Orphan Care Centers all over the Transkei.
The fence is being built around the OCC in Seleni. We hope to have the structure up by July and operational by September.

This July we are planning on returning with two physicians from the US to build a coalition with South African Doctors and nurses. Ron Haffey a member of the last trip over is busy locating a mobile medical unit that we can use to deliver quality medical care including cataract surgery. We have a line on several possibilities. The cost of these vehicles may approach $250,000!

If you are interested in going, the next trip available is September 10-21. Two teams will be focused on construction and community education.

We opened the mail yesterday, $40,000 from C3 Missions for the Orphan Care Center in Selini, South Africa, next envelope please! Well at least next email from Schaun (my partner in crime) Colin tells me he received an $18,000 grant for the repair of the school in Bhukwini. And yet another envelop with $2250 for personal support for Rufus and Almarie Luttig. Quit a week!

The only thing KU did right on Sunday afternoon was keep the ball out of Step Curry’s hands on Davidson’s last possession. Otherwise Davidson had their way with the #1 seeded Jayhawks.
Memphis played their game not only running with Texas but running by Texas. UCLA took punch after punch from upstart Xavier and threw knock out punches back. UNC showed the nation that you can score 5 seconds after your opponents regularly, but KU was handled by Davidson.
Davidson set the pace, turning KU’s pace from torrid to tepid. Unlike Memphis, UCLA or UNC, KU’s claws were removed from that fierce paced always in your face ball up the court offense. Rarely has a #10 seed come out and taken control of the game like Davidson did. 5 kids passed over by the big schools put on a show of guts and determination showing the nation that you can play defense 94 feet for forty minutes and become a part of the “shinning moment” forever.
Don’t get me wrong, I really like Bill Self. I thought he was a smart choice for KU after Roy went south. But why does a coach not move his offense toward his hot hand. Mario, oh Mario you were hot while you compadre Rush still had to prove that off the dribble he was, well, less than capable. It almost cost them the game. Where were six players that can score 20 points a game!
The only place KU won was on the scoreboard. Yes, and that is the only place that counts, I know. But now it is not a #10 Cinderella, it is the best of the best. An unfortunately for KU they are the worst of the best.
What is really going to make HawkNation miserable on Saturday is being beat down by Tyler and his buddies and further deepen the hate of Roy Williams in Lawrence. But once again there will be some way to explain why KU loses to UNC.