Yet another moment I don’t have a picture to share, but will
never forget. El Salvador. West side of a mountain. A street full of plastic
chairs, with just enough room on the east side of the street for one car to
creep by, if the strollers and children are moved out of the way. We’re sitting
facing a makeshift stage. Podium. Speakers. (Always speakers. Every country.
There are always speakers. I’ve stopped feeling guilty about praying for power
outages.) We – Salley, Garrett and I – are here with my team, Deep Waters for a
crusade service. Garrett has been volunteered to preach. Stephanie is about to
give her testimony. But for right now, we’re listening to songs in Spanish, as
the pastor’s wife accompanies on the electric guitar.

I glance over to my right. A valley below us. Mountains
beyond that. The sun is slowly heading towards the mountaintops, soon to
disappear. And then I start thinking. About who in the world is still seeing
the sun. What country is going to see the same sun set in the next hours.

 
Sunset over the Nile.

We’ve lived in many countries and time zones in the last 11
months. I’ve lived in one day, while my family in the States is still living in
the day before. I’ve woken up for many sunrises, while others somewhere else in
the world are watching the sun set. And then I’ve probably traveled to that
somewhere else.


Sunrise in Namulanda, Uganda over Lake Victoria.

So nearing the end of this trip, having experienced so many
sunsets in so many countries, I’m amazed at how small this earth truly is. How
now when I think about Africa, I think about people. I think about Africa and
wonder if Joseph and Mercy and Patience are watching the sunset in Kenya. I
think about Thailand and wonder if Yui ever found a job that would let her stay
near her son. I think about Ireland and remember a family who spent most of
their time giving – time, food, love – to gypsies, families who had left
their church, and foster children. I think about Eastern Europe and hope that
an orphan girl named Nastia is feeling loved and protected.


Sunrise in Phnom Penh, Cambodia.

All of
them have impacted my life. All of them have been part of my story. All of them
are people I pray for, think about. All of them will see this same sun set
tonight.