Sailing the Indian Ocean en route to Ibo Island

New Video Footage

There are three new videos to the right. One was created by James, a mission school student from England. He shared this story one afternoon under the tent, about how we are like the street kids in Pemba. We were well into mission school and had been bombarded by so many kids, all begging, following us and calling our names outside the gate to our compound. No one really wanted to admit frustration, after all, these were poor children. Yet, James found a parallel in us and them. One type of kid begs constantly, but doesn't even know your name. He doesn't spend time with you, he just comes up to you and begs. The other holds your hand awhile, hugs on you, sits in your lap and then asks for your watch. When you tell him no, he leaves. Then there is the child who waits on you. He is outside every morning anticipating just walking with you from the gate to the tent. He is there to walk with you to the beach and sits right beside you, holds your hand and never begs. We as Christians can often become these kids in our treatment of God, we beg, we don't know Him, but we just constantly ask Him for stuff. Then there are those of us, who try to "warm up" to Him, tell Him we love Him, and then ask for the stuff. And then there are those who just want to spend time with Him, hold His hand, wait on Him, and be in His presence.

A Prayer from Terra- my dear friend in Kenya

TB's Prayer- Oct. 8 Oh sweet Jesus... Where do I even begin to think through all that you have laid on my little heart. Sometimes I wonder if you realize that my heart is not as big as your is. I can't handle all of the pain, confusion and heartache that you can, but then I'm reminded that I asked for your heart to be inside of me, and then I smile through my tears. I saw you yesterday Jesus. It was just a glimpse into your eyes, and it filled everything inside of me with delight. I spent the day feeding your children; your lying, dirty, angry, deceptive, beautiful children.Ha-I see myself in them every time I go there. It was 'holy chaos' as Heidi Baker likes to call it. Ok- maybe it was just chaos, but still... I sat on the curb trying to stay out of the way, out of the pushing, shoving, yelling and grabbing. I held one of my friend Mary's twin sons. His name is Shadrach: Jesus, will you let him live up to his strong name? He and his brother are probably 2 years old, tiny and frail. Most of the time he doesn't have paints on, today he had on little dirty undies. He can walk but most of the time is carried by his mother Mary or one of the street boys, they all take turns playing the role of older brother. This day Salmon played the older brother role. As I was holding Shadrach, this older brother walked up and wiped the snot off of his face with a piece of trash he had found on the ground. I was frozen for a moment by the sight that i had just seen. Jesus my heart hurt, that trash was rubbed on Shadrach's beautiful frail face, but then it burned inside with such love watching Salmon tend to the needs of this little one. They are all family, we are all family. I want to run away with this little brother of mine. To give him everything he deserves. So that his dirty, frail little face would be cleaned with wet ones, or Kleenex with aloe. So that his little feet would have baby Nike's on them the way mine did; so that he would be laid down in a clean crib with clean blankets the way that i was. So that he would go to school when this 5th birthday came and grow up taking packed lunches to school and getting on a school bus with his friends, I don't know maybe even playing on a little soccer team after school. But instead I had this moment with him, this moment to hold him and surrender my ability to do anything at all but love him with your love Jesus and get him and help get some milk and bread into his little hungry belly. My heart is restless inside of me Jesus. I need you to come and bring your blessed presence and wash over me. What do I do? How can I be so selfish as to complain over missing the comforts of home when these beloveds of yours have never even known what a home might feel. I can't hardly even speak Swahili and I'm desperate to let the ones you love let them know that you are with them in their desperation. But maybe in a loving smile, a gentle touch, and or a big hug you will tell them that. Oh Holy Spirit, I am desperate that you flow out of me onto them. Father, you took my breath away today. You showed me the face of your Son. When it finally came time to leave and we had said goodbye to all of our street friends, we turned the corner and walked away. Just about 20 ft. down the side walk we ran into some more of the boys though (this is not an unusual occurrence). They came running up to us with smiles on their faces, but one was preoccupied by peeing on the sidewalk. He was wearing an oversized tee-shirt and cut off pants with a pair of high-heal zip up women's boats that his feet clunk around in. What a funny sight he was and as soon as he finished his business he immediately ran over to walk next to me, putting his pee-hands in my hair. Jesus this is for you I said out loud, and when I looked down into this little boys face I saw you. He had this huge goofy smile on his face, so big that he couldn't keep his mouth shut and he was covered with some unexplainable joy that instantly came into me to. I saw you in him Jesus, and I was captivated. What an unexpected place to see you, what a perfect place to see your loving eyes, in the smiling face of this little funny looking boy who was rubbing his pee-hands all in my relatively clean hair. Yes, you are in this place, and you are pursuing my heart right in the middle of all of it. Oh how i love you Jesus.