Adventures WorldRace SethBarnes Sponsorship Giving

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Who knew that you could fit 5 people, 6 backpacks, 2 tents, 4 sleeping bags, a blanket, and 5 grocery bags of Raman noodles, apples and peanut butter in a Toyota Tazz hatchback… and still have room for alatta love. Who knew…

I know that Part 2 of these ATL journals is a bit delayed… we were internet-less for quite a while, and my hopes to update you every step of the way were, um, dashed. However, lets just pretend like all this is happening in real time. The last you heard, we were heading out on the open road on sort of a Matthew 10 journey from South Africa to our next place of ministry, though we didn’t know where that was yet…

And…. Scene.
 
We started out in our little Tazz (affectionately named Tazz) headed northwest towards Botswana, and after staying the night in Gaborone, headed more northwest towards Maun on faith, trusting that if God didn’t want us to go there, then He would turn us around.

We were on the Maun-bound road for about an hour, and were right in the middle of a riveting game of “Would You Rather” when my phone rang. The woman on the other end told me, “Someone from your room has left their wallet. You need to come back.”

I heard a timid tone from the backseat, “Oh no… It must be our team money… its not here in my bag…”

 
Now, I’d like to say something about our team treasurer, Meredith. She does a fantabulous job at keeping track of our money and is an organized, responsible, trustworthy individual. Thus far, she has never let that money our of her sight… So the fact that she did this time was not without purpose…

We all extended our hakuna matatas, and I turned the car around. 10 minutes later, Matt slowly said, “…Guys, this won’t leave me, and I haven’t slept for the last 2 days: I think we’re supposed to go to Namibia, not further in Botswana…”

So we prayed. And got a yes. Consequently, Namibia just so happened to be in the opposite direction of Maun. We had to backtrack through the same road that our hostel was on to get back our money. Holding to the foundation that our only agenda was to do our best to follow God’s lead these next two weeks, we headed to Windhoek, Namibia.
We checked ourselves into a hostel called The Cardboard Box, had a team meeting of prayer, and began exploring the grounds… which is where we met Gracie.
22 years old with her head on straight, her feet grounded, and a faith that is firmly rooted, Gracie left the states and came to Namibia with the call on her life to begin an orphanage. The next couple of days were spent by some of the team helping her get some foundation details figured out. The government of Namibia gave her a house for the children, and free electricity and water. We feel pretty strongly that this is not the last we’ve seen of Gracie…. Perhaps a return trip to Namibia is in order someday, and if nothing else, Gracie has got 5 supporters who will help her ministry in whatever way they can. She said she was so encouraged by our presence and assistance, and that God used us in a powerful way to help spur her on to the next level.
 
 
After a few days we left the country of Namibia, and headed into Zambia, stopping to see Victoria Falls, and awing over God’s creativity. 
This waterfall is sheer power… and I felt so small… as I walked along the misty bridge (um, actually, when I say misty I mean rainy… we were drenched…) I couldn’t help but think that even in the midst of this beauty, these trees, these rainbows, this exotic-ness… this isn’t even the pinnacle of creation. God’s sons and daughters are.

It’s a little hard to put into words, and I run the risk of sounding slightly cheesy, but I really felt like Dad had set this up just for His kids to ooo and ahhh over, purposing its sheer power and exotic beauty to point beyond itself. Victoria Falls is not a product of some big old bang. Victoria Falls is the product of a skilled Artist who wastes no color on the pallet and no space on the canvas.

Victoria Falls, Zambia was a place where God did a lot of… father stuff with me. I walked along the waterfall, and felt He was walking with me as a proud Dad, sharing something unique with His daughter… one of those father-kid memories that goes deep in the memory banks and shapes you. It reminded me of the times my dad and I used to take hikes in Yosemite National Park when I was in pigtails and grade school. He used to take a lot of delight in watching me gawk at the big rocks and trees and lakes. He was proud of me for loving and appreciating beauty.

Then, the next day, I got word that one of my sisters on the squad had lost her father to a sudden heart attack. I knew all too well that initial shock and intensity, and my heart broke for her as she left Africa to go home to be with her family in the states. That day, I found myself reliving some of those emotions, though on the 24th of June it marked 7 years since my own dad’s sudden death. My sister didn’t get to say goodbye to her dad. Neither did I, and though I’ve made my peace with that, sometimes I still find myself wanting my dad’s approval… I wonder if he would be proud of me today… I wonder how he would react to the woman I’ve become. I wonder how our relationship would be… would we have coffee at Starbucks every week? Would I bring him lunch at work? Would we still have Tetris matches, and would I still beat the mess out of him? (Nintendo is one of my spiritual gifts…) Would he comment on my blogs? I’m glad that he has the better end of the stick… really, he’s dancing all around the throne room, and now probably actually has some good rhythm, something he never had on earth. Every once and a while, I miss him, and miss the role he can’t play. Which broke me for my sister. My process of healing was long and hard, and I remember that the most difficult parts came years later. I know this journey for her will be tough. But I also know that God provides spiritual fathers who are all about redemption and being Kingdom dads to the fatherless.

Later that day, two of my spiritual fathers spoke into me and my leadership in a way that both humbled and empowered me, and somehow, I found myself broken. I didn’t even understand why I was so effected by what they had said… Their grace in dealing with my journey of growth was nothing less than foreign to me. It took me off guard how they guided me with firm wisdom, and at the same time made me feel like I have what it takes. To have a father tell me, “We believe in you, so much so that we’re risking our lives on it”… it broke me. Their love makes me better. That day was pivotal for me, as they directed me further into my Kingdom identity, helping me to realize that part of what I’m doing here on earth is establish new expressions, and to break ground in places that haven’t been broken yet. I will always remember Victoria Falls as a place of my Dad, and my dad, and my spiritual dads.

That night, an opportunity arose to work with a new contact, Pastor Duncan, the director of an orphanage as well as a secondary school, and also the pastor of the local church in Malawi. And so, my team packed up Tazz and prepared to leave Zambia the next morning.

Who knew that the people we would meet and the things we would see would be intentional appointments purposed to deepen and expand the Kingdom of God…

And who knew that this was the beginning of the month when I would begin to come fully alive through brokenness and empowerment…
 
Abba did.
 
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