I hand-fed a wild nurse shark yesterday. The largest living reef in the world is just a 10 minute canoe ride from our front yard, so snorkeling and diving the sapphire waters of the Carribbean has quickly become my favorite free-time fun-tivity. My Aussie friend, Jakin, located the napping shark under a section of reef, and shouted to my other friend, Matt, and me, "Hey guys! Wanna see a shark?" The race was on to get to Jakin and the shark. On the way, I speared a little fish. When I got there, I fed the fish to the shark. It was awesome to see the shark's speed and feel his power as he snatched the fish off the spear, just a couple feet from my hand. Now, nurse sharks aren't particularly dangerous, but I did hear a story about a guy who got his lip bit off trying to kiss one. So, there's that. Afterwards, I got to thinking. What kind of sharks have I been feeding in my own life? Is there any vice/addiction/sin that I've been swimming too close to? Or willingly nurturing? If I feed it long enough will I end up as the main course in a feeding frenzy? I'm reminded of the proven adage, "What you feed grows, what you starve dies." Feed relationship with God. Feed the spiritual man. Feed the Spirit within. Starve the sharks.
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Yesterday we were presented with two countries, and told to choose the location of our outreach between the two options. So without further ado we are pleased to announce that our outreach location is... drumroll please... MONGOLIA! Three days ago neither Christina nor I would have ever thought that Mongolia would be our outreach destination. It was nowhere on the radar. But here we are! Indeed, the other option, Spanish-speaking Uruguay, might have seemed like the obvious choice given my Hispanic origins, but God had other plans... After a time of intentional prayer, God confirmed to both Christina and I that we would be going to Mongolia. As we prayed, I envisioned a gray-scale map of Mongolia next to a gray-scale map of Uruguay (the other option). As I processed the two options, the map of Mongolia seemed to jump out at me and it was highlighted in a bright orange. I told God Uruguay made more sense, that I could be a language asset to the team and reminded Him that Christina's and my heart is for S. America. Long story short, God confirmed Mongolia several times, I eventually go it thru my thick skull, and now we're pumped for an adventure that will surely stretch us in ways that Uruguay would not have. Click HERE for more awesome pics of Mongolia
(Stay tuned for more Mongolian blog entries) Hey Everybody! We are so glad the stars have finally aligned so we can sit down and write you! Christina and I are having an awesome time in San Pedro, Belize, and things are going very well here. We wanted to give a special update to those of you who have supported us financially and in prayer. We watched a tearjerker of a video clip today about a father who runs Ironman triathlons with his severely disabled son. The dad pushes his son in a specially-constructed wheelchair, rides with him on a custom bike, and pulls him in a raft for the swimming portions of the races. At one point, the dad says, "I do this because it brings my son joy. HE is the athlete, not me. I just loan him my legs and arms." I'm so amazed by the spirit of partnership that exists between this father and son, and I'm reminded of another similar partnership. You guys, and us. Christina and I may be the "foot-soldiers" in the field, but we can only be here and do what we're doing because people like you exist to support us, effectively loaning us your legs and arms. In short, we consider you part of the "A-Team" alongside us as we strive to accomplish Jesus' Great Commission and YWAM's mission: "to know God and make Him known."You are a HUGE part of our impact here. We love you and thank you for all you've done thus far. Can we all just take a minute and debrief Christina's and my flight to Belize together? Please know I WILL be treating this as a much-needed group therapy session... Hi. I'm Nathan. (Group response) I gotta admit, I'm a little nervous to do this publicly but I have a confession to make. I relapsed today, falling victim to a flying-related anxiety I haven't experienced since I was a wee lad. So there we were, my lovely wife, Christina and I, waiting to board United Airlines International Flight 1953 to Belize City, Belize. The standard pre-flight excitement fluttered about our insides like butterflies on high quality crack. So far so good. However, to borrow an infamous line from Michael Scott, "Well, well, well, how the turn-tables..." And turn those tables did... immediately. With a giddy smile still plastered across my dumb face, I turned around, as if in slow motion, and found myself face-to-bellybutton with the first living giant I've ever encountered: the illegitimate love-child of Frankenstein and the Hulk. He came complete with one eye completely glazed over, and the other eye ever-searching, like the Eye of Sauron. To be fair, I never did meet this man, and he was probably the nicest guy in the world, but my imagination rocket-launched into oblivion. My little brain quickly flooded with manufactured thoughts on how dangerous this man probably was. I replayed the entire Bourne series in my head trying to summon the best fighting moves and osmose them into my own abilities just in case the worst should happen. Now anxious, I boarded the plane with Christina and tried to put these misguided paranoia out of my mind with little success. To make matters more interesting, it turns out I was way more nervous than I thought about the flying part. White-knuckled and sweaty-palmed, I hyperventilated myself into exhaustion by the time we reached our 37000 ft cruising altitude. Cruising is a loose term though. Given the amount of turbulence, the flying was more epileptic in nature. I swear the airplane wings were flapping up and down with all the speed of a hummingbird's wings. And yet, Christina just sat there, calmly chatting with our Mexican seat-mate named "Yunior." (Which, when translated from Spanish to English word-for-word means, "Junior.") Out of options, I turned my attention to the in-flight TV monitor, desperate for some mind numbing . Now bear in mind, we were on our way to Belize, the snorkeling capital of the Carribbean, and I planned to get me some of that ASAP! As luck would have it, however, the only program available for the distraction I needed was the one channel I swore I wouldn't watch prior to snorkeling... Shark Week. I kiddeth thee not. In order to distract myself from the violently seizing turbulence, I was forced to watch 20-foot great white sharks come barreling out of the water from the dark depths and swallow me-sized lumps of bait flesh whole. Paralyzed, all I could do was stare in shocked horror. Looks like I'll be on dry land building sand castles for beach day instead! That is, if I can manage to unpretzel myself out of the fetal position. Yay... -_- The story ends well enough though, I promise. We got to Houston, TX in one piece and then made it safely to Ladyville, Belize. From there, we hitched a flight on a 12 passenger, single-engine island-hopper which the locals affectionately refer to as "The White-Knuckle Express." But that's a different story for a different day. We finally made it to San Pedro Island, and my anxiety is slowly giving way to the peaceful, casual island culture. "No shirt, no shoes, no problem." How about no shorts? All of mine are in the wash. Haha! Gross.... The End |
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