Turkish.....not-so-Delight

This weekend I had a Turkish adventure.

It's been approximately 2 months since I moved here this summer, and I had recently decided that it was time for a haircut, lest I eventually break the school's no-hair-covering-the-ears dress code policy. Now, I HAVE had one haircut in Turkey before at a local Turkish salon when I was here last spring, but at that time I had an interpreter to help me through the process.

When my roommate mentioned offhandedly last week that he was also wanting a haircut, I decided that it was time to go. Because of the fact that neither one of us really speaks much Turkish, we asked around for a Turkish speaker to accompany us, but no one was available (whom we trusted, at least) over the weekend. So finally, on Saturday afternoon, I just thought, "Whatever. I can figure this out." (an MK's famous last words) and headed for the salon. On my way my roommate called me and asked me what I was up to, and when he found out I was going to get my hair cut, he asked if he could join me. I explained that I didn't have a translator and I was planning on winging it. Knowing that if he didn't join me in winging it, he would be left to wing it on his own later, he readily agreed to join me at his own risk.

Before we went into the shop, we huddled up and I told him the game plan: we would go into the shop, sit down, point to our heads and say, "Bir santimetre burda," which roughly translates to, "1 centimeter here." It had taken me the whole walk to the shop to put together a comprehensible phrase in Turkish with my VERY limited vocabulary to get my message across, and so needless to say, by the time we stepped in the shop, I was practically brimming with pride at my own brilliance. I was well aware that the sentence was primitive at best, but it seemed foolproof, and that's all I cared about.

My roommate was the first in line, and so when a chair opened up, he sat down and followed my instructions. I was so proud of him. The barber nodded his head (with a grin) and confirmed, "Bir?" ("One?"), to which we unanimously replied, "Evet, bir." ("Yes, one."). The barber nodded again, and turned to attach the appropriate clip to the buzzer. Then, just like that, he turned back around and shaved the top of my roommate's head bald. And we're talking BALD, bald. Nowhere NEAR 1 centimeter.

By the time I was able to pick up my jaw off the floor, a new chair had opened up, and it was my turn. Frantically, I scrambled for a Plan B. The barber was now looking at me with a big question written across his face. Panicking, I tried Plan A, but when his response was simply to cock his head sideways like a parakeet, I knew I had to try something else - fast. Spinning around, I saw the 12 year old-ish boy they had working at the shop sweeping, etc., and noticed that his hair was about the length I wanted. Pointing at him excitedly and looking up at the barber with the buzzer poised above my head, I did my best to make him understand that I wanted my hair to look like the boy's. His gaze swung to follow my finger, and when he saw the boy, he almost doubled over laughing.

I was confused.

He proceeded to rattle off something to his fellow barbers, and when they had all had a good laugh, and he noticed my still confused face, he smiled and pointed at the boy and said something else in Turkish. Hearing him, the boy grinned shyly and turned around revealing the back of his head and probably the most hideous looking mullet that I've ever seen on a 12 year old boy in my life. I didn't need to understand what the still very amused barber tried to ask me next; my answer was an emphatic "Hayir, HAYIR!!" ("No, NO!"). This only produced another hearty laugh from him before he nodded that he understood and began trimming.

Although I still didn't get quite what I was looking for, my trim was a lot closer to what I wanted than my poor roommate. (On a side note, I DID think it would be somewhat humorous if we had both walked in to school with new haircuts on Monday morning to show off to our students - the Bible teacher as a skinhead and the English teacher as an 80's rock star). As for him, he has taken it all in stride like a champ.....although I am not expecting to have another haircutting buddy again when I go back for round 2 in two more months. :-)

Great is His Faithfulness!

Yesterday I finished my first week of full-time teaching. "Exhausting" is the main word that I can think of to describe the week, but even still, He has given me supernatural strength and abundant joy as I have needed it. And I am so thankful. School only started on Wednesday, but all week long I put in roughly 12 hours a day AT SCHOOL and then another 2-3 hours of work at home again after dinner. I am teaching 5 different preps (classes), grades 7-11, in two different languages, with about 70 students in total representing some 20-30 different nationalities. I have 3-5 students in almost every class who only speak a half a dozen phrases in English and about the same number who could skip a grade or two and still excel. Combine all that with the fact that our water got shut off for a few days in the mix and that it's been around 100 degrees every day for the past few weeks, and you can probably see how it hasn't been the easiest week.

But all the busyness has caused me to fall hard on the One who does not grow tired or weary and whose right hand is never too weak. Yesterday as I was walking home from school around 8pm (on a Friday night), I just felt drained and overwhelmed with how much more work I still have waiting for me this weekend, so I started to pray. And as I prayed, I was just inexplicably overwhelmed with thanksgiving. I was reminded that this is what I came here for. I came here looking for a desert - to be stretched, to feel weak and inadequate, to be humbled - so that I would be forced every day to look outside of myself and my circumstances for my strength. Because I know that when I am doing that, I will live through Him and He will live through me, and that is the building blocks of the Kingdom.

And that is what we want to see here - the Kingdom. Invading. Expanding. Prevailing. My prayer for Ankara is for the Miracle of Nineveh - for the Spirit of the Father to pour down on this broken place because of the obedient witness of a few cracked, clay jars.

He can do it. And so much more.

My Two Bible Heroes

I have been so encouraged after reading out of Luke 2 this morning. It's hard for me to read about the Christmas story because it's a story that I'm so familiar with that I usually find myself skimming through the chapter to get to "the good stuff" after it - you know....the stuff about Jesus.

But this morning I forced myself to slow down and I am so glad that I did. I think this is the first time that I've ever read through this story and actually paused after each thought and tried to visualize the characters and put myself in their positions, behind their eyes, and in their heads. And these people came to life for the first time ever for me.

As a result of my careful reading this morning, I've developed a whole new level of respect for Mary and Joseph as people, but what compelled me to journal today was not what I discovered about Mary and Joseph, but what I discovered about Simeon and Anna. They are my heroes. In fact, after today, I think that of all the people mentioned in the Bible, they could be my favorites.

Simeon is described as "a righteous man" who was "filled with the Holy Spirit" and who "eagerly expected the Messiah to come and rescue Israel." Wow....what a way to be remembered.. I would ask that someone write a note for me that this is what I want recorded on my grave one day: "He was a righteous man who was filled with the Holy Spirit who eagerly expected the Messiah to come and take away His Bride," but already it is not true of me because a man who is eagerly expecting the Messiah to come never thinks about his grave. But I pray to God that He would make me like that.

But it gets better - Luke says that one day the Spirit led Simeon to the Temple; this is the verse that smoked me:

"...so when Mary and Joseph came to present the baby Jesus to the Lord as the law required, Simeon was there."

That's what verse 28 says: "Simeon was there."

Waiting. Expecting. Eagerly.

He was already there. He wasn't about to miss it. The groom appeared like a thief in the night - as an 8 day old baby among thousands of people in the Temple that day - but Simeon was there waiting and his lantern was filled with oil and he wasn't about to be left behind.

That's the Kingdom. Wow.

But it still gets better. Because then Anna walks into the room. Except that I picture her running into the room - well, at least as fast as an 84 year old woman can run. And she has the biggest smile on her face that anyone has ever seen, and like an excited grandma arriving at the hospital to see her first grandson ever, she's hobbling as fast as she can down the hall looking in every room she passes, absolutely elated and continually repeating, "Where is he?? Where is he?? Where's my grandson??"

Expecting. Eagerly. Ready.

I can't read her story without crying:

"Anna, a prophet, was also there in the Temple. ...She was a widow, for her husband had died when they had been married only 7 years. She was now 84 years old. She never left the Temple, but stayed there day and night, worshiping God with fasting and prayer. She came along just as Simeon was talking with Mary and Joseph, and she began praising God."

But the next part is my favorite of all:

"She talked about Jesus to everyone."

Can you see it? Close your eyes and picture it. Picture her hobbling into that room, out of breath, desperately scanning the crowd for the One she knows is there - so hopeful - yet afraid she's already missed it - and then she sees the baby.....and she knows. She just knows. Her lantern is filled with oil and she knows. Her heart jumps into her throat and her stomach twists and she knows. Picture that woman's face. Her eyes. Her hands covering her mouth. Tears. Picture her walking over, ignoring Simeon in the middle of his blessing. She and that baby are the only two in the room. And then she gets to that spot and she sees Mary for the first time and her eyes are full of tears and all she can do is look into her face and hold out her hands to ask for the baby. Mary looks to her husband and then Simeon and then back to the woman, but then she understands....and she slowly hands over her son.

Picture Anna taking that 8 day old baby and looking into his face. And she knows. She has been waiting for 80 years - how could she not know what His face would look like?

And just like that, she looks up and grabs the shoulder of the nearest person she can find and spins him around and says, "Look! This is the One - this is Emmanuel." And then she moves on to the next person. And the next. And the next. This is Emmanuel. She doesn't care what people think; she simply can't contain her joy. I couldn't help but think after reading this that I am totally content with where I am right now, but that if I should ever think about marrying someone one day, I hope I don't even consider it unless she has a heart like Anna's.

Hebrews says that "All these faithful ones died without ever receiving what God had promised them..." But Simeon and Anna saw - one ordinary, hard-working, righteous man who lived expecting to see the Messiah every day, and one overlooked, lonely 84 year old widow who was far more in love and alive than anyone else in the world has ever been or ever will be.

How awesome is God?

And so I encourage you: Be ready. Be eagerly expectant. Don't let your lamps run out of oil.......don't risk missing the Groom. He is coming!

The World Cup from Madrid

So many people have been asking me what it was like to watch from downtown Madrid as Spain won the World Cup this year that I thought I would record my experience just for kicks (no pun was initially intended, but then I thought, "Ha! How clever! That would be a pretty corny pun; I'll leave it in there!").

I know this is a long post, but if you don't read anything else, read Chapter 1 and Chapter 5!

CHAPTER 1 - THE PRE-GAME WARMUP

The game here didn't start until 8:30pm, but my journey into Madrid began at 4, mostly because I knew that everyone and their moms would be there and the public transportation would be very crowded and unpleasant if I waited much longer. I was headed into town with a friend, and our first sign that we were getting closer was when a group of about 10 guys (mid 20s) got on the train. None of them had shirts on, they were all quite drunk (already), and all of them were decked out in Spain paraphernalia. They burst into the train blowing vuvuzelas (which are nothing new here - they have been used at soccer games in Spain since as long as anyone can remember), waving flags, and chanting something akin to "DOWN WITH THE F#@$*ING DUTCH!"

They never once settled down for the rest of the 30 min ride into Madrid, and only stopped to take a breath to pour and drink a round of whiskey every few minutes. At every stop more joined their number. When the train conductor came over the loudspeaker and said, "We remind you that the consumption of alcohol is prohibited on Madrid train transportation," they ERUPTED into cheers and vuvuzela screams and banged on the windows and ceiling and floor and jumped on all the chairs and waved their flags and poured another round of drinks.

CHAPTER 2 - PICKING A PRIME SPOT

We finally made it into Madrid, hopped on the subway (different from the train), and headed north. The big outdoor setup with the screens was in the middle of Madrid, and they were expecting 500,000 people to show up - basically twice the size of Grand Rapids for all you GR people reading this. We originally were going to join them there, but it was around 100 degrees (it doesn't get dark here until 10:30pm) and we would be packed shoulder to shoulder with people for 3 hours until the game started and then another 2 hours during the game, all the while standing and being unable to move. And plus, it's often hard to see the screens outside since it's light so late. So we decided to head a little farther north and go to a bar (a sports restaurant equivalent in the U.S.) where we knew there would be a good atmosphere, chairs, air conditioning, good TVs, and cold drinks.

CHAPTER 3 - THE GAME

Many people have commented that the 3rd and 4th place game was more entertaining to watch than the Spain Netherlands game. I agree and disagree. It's usually like that. The 3rd and 4th place teams can play relaxed and take risks since there's nothing really at stake, but the finalists usually play much more reserved in order to lower the risks of making big mistakes. HOWEVER, good soccer aside, I don't think anyone would argue that the Germany Uruguay game was WAAAY less intense than the Spain Netherlands game. Which, of course, made the game very entertaining, just in a different way. So, yes and no. As for me, my whole body was shaking during the game. I couldn't sit still. As another Spaniard said later, "We've suffered a lot this World Cup (with Spain's close games); I'm just glad that I can sleep tonight." It was one of the most thrilling games I've ever watched despite the at-times-lacking quality of play. I don't know how anyone could watch that game and then say that soccer is boring - whether you cared about either of the teams or not.

CHAPTER 4 - THE GOAL

Spain erupted - for 6 minutes straight, until the game ended. People went streaking. Fireworks went off. Lots of people cried. Even though I was about 2 miles from the downtown area with the screens, I could hear the crowds from there yelling - for you GR people, it was about like being at Cornerstone and hearing people yell from Calvin.

CHAPTER 5 - THE AFTER PARTY (THE BEST PART)

I got back on the train to head back to my town without much incident. While I was waiting for the train, though, the boarding area around me was packed with crazy, chanting fans (it was the last train out of Madrid - at midnight). At one point a security guard tried to get people to back away from the tracks as the train neared, but someone yelled, "WE'RE THE CHAMPIONS OF THE WORLD - LEAVE US ALONE!!!" To which everyone cheered and ignored the guy. He just quietly backed away.

When I got on the train, I discovered, to my amused surprise, that I had gotten back on the same car with the same guys as before the game - along with another 100 people or so. There was standing room only. The chanting and vuvuzelas were nonstop and it was all amplified now that we were in an enclosed space. For some reason the air conditioning had been turned off, so felt like a million degrees in there with all those people. People were complaining at first until someone yelled, "WHO WANTS WATER!???!" Everyone erupted into cheers again and people started taking out their water bottles and flinging water all over the car! I thought that was crazy enough until someone else yelled, "AND NOW WITH THE BEER!!!" And so then water and beer was being flung all over everyone.

At least half of the people in the car were smoking as well, all within the vicinity of 4 NO SMOKING signs. The funny thing was, when a old wino got on the train at one stop and needed a place to sit, one crazy 20s something decked-out fan got up to give him his seat and said, "Here, sit down! We're the champions of the world!" The guy sat down, but then pulled out a bong and tried to light up some weed. Everyone got all quiet around the guy when they saw and then someone politely tapped him on the shoulder and said, "Hey dude, sorry, but you can't do that here. That's illegal. You're not allowed to do that. If you're going to do that, you're going to have to get off the train." The old guy looked up and said, "Well, can I just smoke then?" And the Spaniard answered, "Oh, yeah, sure! Smoking's totally cool! Just don't do any of that stuff." And with that the wino pulled out a cigarette and the partying resumed.

Well, by this time there was 1/8 inch of water and beer covering the floor, not to mention dripping from the ceiling and windows. AND it was a million degrees in there. So now it was hot AND sweaty AND humid. Drunk people are not the brightest. So people were complaining even more (between chants, of course), until one drunk guy started his own chant, "WE'RE ON A SAUNA TRAIN!! THAT'S F#@&$ING AWESOME!!!" And the people took up the chant with great enthusiasm. Which was nice....because I'd much rather be in a hot, sweaty, crowded, smoky, humid train car with 100 happy drunk people than in a hot, sweaty, crowded, smoky, humid train car with 100 angry drunk people.

I finally arrived at my stop, got a ride home, took a shower, and watched the after-party still happening in Madrid on TV for the next hour until I went to bed.

It was still going on when I turned on the TV the next morning.

THE END

Home

It feels so good to be home. It's been 2 and a half years since I was last here in Spain, and I am so grateful to be back. I was just sitting on the couch at my family's house this morning thanking God for allowing me to be back and to be refreshed in this way. I'm home alone for a few days until my parents and sister get back from visiting my aunt and uncle in France, but even just being inside the house itself feels so good. When I stepped through the front door yesterday (after spending a half hour looking under all the flower pots in the front yard to find the keys) it was like a load fell off my shoulders and I could finally relax.

Even though I saw my family just last spring, I've spent the last 4 years living in dorms, grandparent's houses, friend's houses, and an apartment with roommates. And even though all of those places were "home" to some extent for a long time, they weren't "home, home". And even though that seems obvious, it didn't really hit me until this morning.

After realizing that, I couldn't help but wonder what it's going to be like to "walk in the front door" of New Jerusalem.

And we won't even have to look for the keys under the flowerpots outside. ;-)

How amazing is that day going to be? That's something that I don't think the church talks about enough anymore. How often do we encourage each other (like Paul did) with the promises of heaven? When was the last time that you heard your pastor talk about how great that day is going to be? When was the last time that you pictured it in your mind? Colossians 3:2 says to "let heaven fill your thoughts."

I think that sometimes we don't do that because we don't know what it's going to be like. But we know what coming home feels like. And I find that whenever I think about that and how great it's going to be to be able to finally drop my baggage at the door for good and walk inside without worrying about having to leave, and when I see Dad look up and drop what He's doing to come running over and give me a hug and tell everyone, "My son is home!", I can't help but get teary eyed.

That's what waits for us. Be encouraged. Encourage others. Let that thought give you joy as you go back to work, as you sit in class, as you mow the lawn, as you help your neighbor move, as you worry about your budget next month... Keep life in perspective. One day we'll be home. :-)

God hates straight lines.

"If you are truly seeking the will of God, there is no decision that you can make that will 'screw up' God's plan for your life."

Thoughts?

Maybe it's just because I'm at the point in life when many of my friends are graduating and trying to figure out what's next, but it seems that lately I've had about 4 or 5 conversations with good friends of mine about discerning what God's plan is for their lives. It's a hard subject, and one that I think all believers are faced with at some point in their lives. I was just there a few months ago. We are all familiar with crossroads. But I think that over the last few months I've been given an understanding of or perspective on the central question that I never had before.

So many believers honestly struggle and wrestle with what God wants them to do, afraid that they will make a wrong choice if they do not "discern" His will correctly. And let me just say that I think that it's good to wrestle with God; I think that true faith demands that we wrestle with God at certain points in our lives, and I think that God loves it when we do - but sometimes I wonder if Satan rejoices when God's people just keep wrestling and wrestling and wrestling and never actually get beyond that.

How often do our puny excuses get in the way of our action for the Kingdom? How often do we put things off "until God opens a door"? Don't we hear that so often as Christians? But doesn't it seem more true that the way of Jesus is most often through closed doors than open ones? What if the body of Christ were a people who were characterized by first moving into action until God closed a door instead of waiting for Him to open one? What would the world look like? What if we were a people who were characterized as fearing missing opportunities more than we do failure? And what if we were a people who truly believed that the Almighty God we serve cannot - will not - be derailed from achieving His original good and perfect plan because of a few of our human mistakes? Are we really that arrogant?

The way that I see it now, God has established His Kingdom on earth, and we, His church, have been given the task of working to expand that Kingdom. So have we not already each been called? He has already told us what He wants us to be about - loving God, loving our neighbors, preaching the Good News, and discipling our brothers and sisters.

But the rest He has left up to us!

Did Jesus tell His 72 disciples specifically where to go when He sent them out in Matthew 10? Did he tell them that they all had to serve in the same way when he sent the 12 out in Matthew 24? Look how much freedom He gave them! His intention was to open up the world to them so that they would go quickly so that they wouldn't have to spend time wrestling with figuring out the hows and whens and whats.

See, we've grown up being taught that the shortest distance from point A to point B is a straight line. And any slight deviation from that line demands recalculation, adjustment, and is therefore inefficient. Lost time. Wasted effort. But the problem with straight lines is that it always takes us a half an hour to find a ruler.

I think that so often we see point A (Me) and point B (Where God wants me tomorrow/next month/next fall), and it seems most obvious to us that God would want us to get there using a straight line.

But I don't think that God likes straight lines. God didn't lead Abraham in a straight line to reach the Promised Land. God didn't lead Jacob in a straight line to becoming a righteous man. God didn't lead the Israelites in a straight line to reach Canaan. Jesus didn't move in a straight line to the cross. And Paul didn't move in a straight line to preaching to the Gentiles.

It seems to me that God is all about the 180 degree turns. He's not interested in point B. He's interested in YOU. And he's interested in the 1 lost sheep.

Does God want you to serve overseas? Does God want you to marry that girl? Does He want you to go to that school? Write Christian music or wash dishes in an orphanage? Teach or be taught? Go or stay?

I think that God wants you to use your gifts to feed His sheep.

All that you have to worry about is finding hungry sheep....and feeding them.

We make things far too complicated.

Light at the end of the tunnel...

5 days left...I can't believe it.

It's been an amazing experience being here, and I'm SO excited that he has called me back next fall! It has been a true joy teaching at Oasis, even though it's been hard missing out on the last part of my senior year with friends. I know that this is what I have been called to for now, though, and that is such a satisfying feeling.

Even though I taught my last day on Friday, I have a MOUNTAIN of grading to do before mid-term grades are due on Monday, and I also have a huge final portfolio to put together for my graduation requirement. That's what I'll be slaving over for the next few days... Then I get back on Thursday night, up early for graduation rehearsal on Friday, pack up, graduate on Saturday, wrap things up in GR, head down south for my cousin's wedding, and then.....who knows? Ha. I'm still working out the details.. No job yet, but I need to raise some finances, attend pre-field orientation for 2 weeks, watch the World Cup, do a BUNCH of paperwork for visas and such, and then make it back to Turkey by early August.

The details can get stressful when I dwell on them, but I'm reminded again and again that THIS is why I'm here. This place where need and blindness and overwhelming odds and impossible obstacles meet humble bloody hands and feet......this is where deliverance happens. Why would I ever want to be anywhere else?

To the Rescue

So I was in the middle of teaching my 11th grade American Lit class today, when I heard a knock at the door. Glancing behind me, I noticed my cooperating teacher standing in the doorway (she had gone down to the office to run an errand) holding the hand of the cutest little girl I've ever seen and mouthing the word "HELP!". Confused, I looked down at the girl and noticed streaks down her cheeks where she had been crying. She was holding back sobs bravely, but I think the classroom full of high schoolers had also helped to put her into a little bit of a shock.

I walked over to the doorway and Beth (my CT) whispered, "We need a Spanish speaker. This is one of our pre-schoolers, and she's been crying uncontrollably in class repeating something about her sister in Spanish, but no one can understand what she's saying. Can you help?"

My heart broke. I wondered how serious it was.

Squatting down, I smiled and asked her what her name was, but she couldn't take her eyes off all of the big kids in the room staring at her, and she flushed and the tears came again. Duh. I should have known. But I took her by the hand and we moved into the hallway where I sat down and asked her again. This time I got "Maria" out of her between sobs. I told her that her teacher was worried about her and asked what was wrong. I was expecting the worst, but I wasn't anywhere near prepared for what came next (in the cutest, timid Spanish voice you've ever heard):

"My...(sob).....sister....(sob)....took my.....(sob).....hamster this morning....(sob).....and now we don't know where he is! (WAIL)"

Now, my first reaction was to die laughing because I so totally was NOT expecting that, but luckily I was able to choke it back and simply bite my lip. When I had composed myself, I said that I was so sorry, and that I was sure that he was ok. I told her that when school was over we would help her find her sister and get her hamster back. I asked her if she could go back to class for now, and she said she could.

Beth said she skipped all the way back downstairs.

Crisis averted. :-)

The Halfway Mark: Spring Break

Can you believe it? I've been here 3 1/2 weeks now, and I have 4 left to go. Folks, this is the halfway mark!

I am planning to send out a newsletter with an overall update around the end of this week, but I have to tell you about my week THIS week. :-) It started with Good Friday. School let out last Thursday and we have off for spring break all of this week. I had originally thought of taking a short trip to Istanbul with some teacher friends, but alas, the flesh is willing, but the pocketbook is weak....or wait....something like that. Anyway, even if I had the money, when we return next week I will be taking over the senior British Lit class as well as the junior American Lit class in addition to the 8th grade grammar class I am currently teaching....and I have never read A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court nor Frankenstein before, so I have my work cut out for me. I have to read both of those books, do an in-depth (albeit somewhat frantically hurried) study of them so that I feel confident enough to teach them, and then plan 1 week worth of lessons for all 3 classes. And of course all of that is on top of the several hundred page portfolio that I have to put together this week for my graduation requirement.

And I also have to find time to finish season 1 of Heroes, tour Ankara (this IS spring break, after all), watch the Champion's League semi-finals as well as El Clasico, write a newsletter, find a summer job, and finish The Legend of Luke from the Redwall book series that I (perhaps foolishly) started last week.

But I did not post on here to complain. Life is wonderful. :-)

Thursday night I went downtown to sit in on a TESOL class for Iranian refugees. The classes are offered for free via a Christian service that works with these refugees pouring into Turkey. God is moving among those people and they are amazing. I fell in love with them and the ministry there and I contacted the organizer to see if there was a possibility of teaching a class if I were to return in the future. "Absolutely!" :-)

Friday I rested.

Saturday I went with a group of teachers and families to a HUGE park on the outskirts of town. I had a great time barbecuing a picnic lunch, playing frisbee golf with the kids, and getting to know some of the families and teachers better outside the school setting. They have some incredible stories.

Sunday I went with my cooperating teacher and another teacher friend to the U.S. ambassador's personal residence for an Easter celebration. They opened up their house and the local church put on a cantada that they had been rehearsing for the last few months. It was a gorgeous day, and the cantada was held in the ballroom (yes, the ballroom) of the massive villa that sits on top of a hill overlooking the whole city. One whole wall of the ballroom was a series of glass doors leading out to a patio that overlooked Ankara. After the cantada the ambassador provided a HUGE American breakfast/brunch for the guests complete with sausage and bacon (rarities in a Muslim country!). It was one of the most memorable Easter Sundays I've ever had.

Monday I worked.

Today I made a friend. One of my friends in the U.S. put me in contact with one of her good friends here in Ankara. His name is Berkay. He's a Turkish student at a local university here (he's a few years older than myself), and he has been to the U.S. several times. His English is excellent. Anyway, we met today for the first time and he gave me a tour of Ankara, introduced me to several of his friends, and treated me to the best Turkish meal I have had yet. I had a great time. We talked about everything from history to politics (he's a poli-science major) to soccer to families to religion. He was an amazing tour guide, and I am SO happy that I have been blessed with such a great Turkish friend!

The rest of the week will consist of finishing my newsletter, lesson planning, Settlers game night with some teachers, lesson planning, reading, reading, reading, watching El Clasico, visiting the ruins of an ancient Hittite city with some friends, lesson planning, reading, reading, and hopefully playing some soccer on Saturday with some of my students. It will be a good week. :-)

21st Century Explorer

I've always been jealous of people like Christopher Columbus. Or Marco Polo or Magellan or Lewis and Clark for that matter. I've always thought that if I lived back in Medieval times and I were a serf, I wouldn't submit to the feudal system. I mean, come on - seriously?? Who wants a life like that? I would sell my cow and my land and my hut and my goat and set off to explore the world. Maybe I'd go down to the port and get a job sailing on a merchant ship, or maybe I'd set off for the hills and join a band of brigands, or maybe just head straight in one direction until I crossed the edge of civilization and found a beautiful paradise to settle in and call my own.

Serfs were dumb...

I remember when my family used to go to Pedriza national park in Spain. It was a place designed for little kids with huge imaginations. It was a small lush valley nestled back in the mountains of Navacerrada, covered with pine forests, divided by clear mountain streams, and spotted with monstrous round boulders that seemed to have fallen there as giant hail stones thousands of years ago and then petrified over time. In the spring it was covered with wild flowers. It was a place of dreams for a kid.

I could never wait to get out of the car and explore. My brother and sisters and I would arm ourselves with stick swords and pine cone hand grenades and climb every boulder we saw, hop every creek we found, and pretend that savage indians, armed robbers, and wild beasts lurked behind every tree. I found myself addicted to the thrill of exploring.

It wasn't until some time after this realization, however, that I became depressed because it hit me that I had been born several centuries too late to be an explorer when I grew up. Satellites had ruined everything.

When I attended Urbana this December, though, Father opened my eyes to something exciting. I was talking with a recruiter for an organization that works with unreached people groups when he used a word that made my heart jump and my brain unable to focus on anything else he was saying. He described their work as work in uncharted regions of the Kingdom.

And just like that, something clicked, and all of a sudden Christopher Columbus didn't seem that far away anymore, and I could just see Father grinning at me in the throne room, with his hands on my shoulders, looking me in the face and saying, "I need some more men like you. Will you go for me? Will you take My standard to the uncharted places? Will you go to expand the boundaries of My Kingdom - to make known the name of the King where they have not heard?"

It felt like my heart would explode. The thought of the opportunity of being a scout on the front lines of the advancing Kingdom - the very place where light meets darkness - is one of the most exciting thoughts that has ever gripped my heart. Because that's where the action is.

I want to be where deliverance happens.

I have very little experience being in such a place so far. Everything that I have heard about it says that it is hard. It is dangerous. It is a place that swallows people whole. Some deep part of me is scared that I don't know what I'm asking for. But some other deep part of me remembers the words of the King: "Be strong and courageous! Do not be afraid. I am with you wherever you go." Your rod and your staff, they comfort me. You prepare a table for me in the presence of my enemies....my cup overflows. A cloud of smoke by day, and a pillar of fire by night... You hem me in, behind and before - you have laid your hand upon me. Where can I go from your spirit? Have you not seen? Have you not heard? I am with you always, to the very end of the age.

This is where deliverance happens. Why would I ever choose to spend my life anywhere else?

I don't know what He has for me next, but I know now why He chose to make me an explorer in the 21st century.

Pictures! :-)

Here are the promised pictures of my first few days (although I just realized that I don't have any pictures of the school itself...I'll work on that):

Welcome to my massive room...

Including a walk-in closet.....aka, the back of my door.

Our beautiful living room, where I lesson plan and do homework while listening to one of the 6 Turkish soccer TV channels playing in the background. ;-)

Ours is the far pink one. Yes, the giant pink one.

Part of the view from our balcony...a poorer part of the city. You can't tell very well, but those "houses" are nothing more than shacks. Lots of them are patched up with tin siding, and hardly any of them have a full roof without huge holes in it.

This is looking to the left out of our living room window. Part of downtown Ankara is in the distance.

And this is looking to the right out of our living room window. The dirt area in the middle of the picture is part of a park. The green on top of that hill is actually a fenced in public turf soccer field. I could live here. :-)

Since it took me the better part of 2 hours to post these pictures since our wireless is going slow for some reason, I'll be back later with an update. Although it's not spelled this way, in Turkish the way to say "See you later" is Gurooshoorooz! ;-)

First Impressions

Whew! It's been a long time! Let's see if I remember how to do this... :-)

Turkey.

What an interesting place! I got in late last night, so I wasn't able to see too much of the city as it was dark on the way from the airport to my apartment, but my initial impressions of the place this morning have been like a cross between an eastern European country and what you would think of as a typical, Middle Eastern Islamic country. Really, the city and the countryside itself appear to be more eastern European (pretty green country with rolling hills and lots of trees, and then old, breaking-down apartment complexes and neighborhoods - it certainly has the feel of a more impoverished city than the main cities in western Europe, but then again, we're on the outskirts out town), but the abundant towering mosques and the people themselves give the place more of a Middle Eastern feel. And I guess those two things make sense considering the location of Turkey; I think I was just expecting something a little more Middle Eastern looking. Hmm.

But my adjustment has gone great so far. My flights over here were uneventful except for the fact that we flew out of Chicago in the middle of a storm, and I have never flown through so much turbulence in my life! If it weren't for some fear the the plane was going to snap in half, it was actually pretty fun - like a 40 minute long Six Flags ride. It seriously felt like a giant baby had a hold of our plane and was shaking us like a rattle or like what I imagine it must have been like for WWII pilots to fly through anti-aircraft flak on bombing missions (I know - pretty much the same thing, huh? Haha). But other than that I made it here safely, met and chatted with my 2 roommates - J.J. and Mitch, also teachers at the school - got settled in the apartment, and had a shower before bed around midnight.

I decided I'd see how I felt in the morning before committing to church, but I slept great all night and woke up at my alarm at 8 feeling like a champ, so I went for it. Church was an interesting experience as well. The building itself is a few minutes walk from the apartment, and is an unmarked, transformed 2 story store front. Other than a military base church about an hour away (that is only open to American citizens for security reasons), it is apparently the only Evangelical church in all of Ankara - a city of 4.7 million people. There were about 50 people there this morning. There are 3 services on Sundays - the first in English, the second in Turkish and translated into English, and the third in Farsi, for a local Iranian minority group. I only went to the first service today because I got invited out to lunch afterwards, but I'm planning on going to the second service regularly too. I really want to get involved with more of the local community. Oh, and I forgot to mention that there are security personnel at the front door who screen you with a handheld metal detector before you first walk inside. A LITTLE different from what the greeter does at Crossroads Bible Church! ;-)

Anyway, after church I had lunch with the principal at Oasis as well as his family and we had a great time. They have one 4 year old - excuse me: 4 and a HALF year old - daughter who wears her hair in 2 pig tails and is probably one of the cutest kids I've ever seen. After lunch my roommate JJ gave me a tour of the school and showed me around town. Tomorrow I get to try my hand at shopping! Haha. Oh boy - not only am I on my own for food for the first time in my life, but I have to deal with buying completely foreign products, and not only that, but all labeled and priced in Turkish - and then I have to experiment with how to prepare them. And also not starve. It will be an adventure. ;-)

Well I don't have a ton yet, but I promise that pictures will come soon! :-) I just wanted to let everybody know that I'm here, safe, and off to a good start. Thanks so much for all your prayers!

-Aaron

P.S. - I forgot to mention the coolest thing of all! I'm literally RIGHT across the street from a park with an outdoor TURF soccer field that was in use all afternoon today by a bunch of local high school Turkish boys. I know where I'll be spending my Sunday afternoons!! :-)