Middle East Trip: Epilogue

Epilogue

I write this now some nineteen days after returning from Syria. Slowly but surely I have readjusted to life at home. Initially the first week or so was marked with extreme lethargy but I experienced no depression or emotional let down after the mission trip. Every once in a while a sight or smell will bring back strong memories. One morning as I ran the smell of diesel fumes mixed with the odor of sweat brought back strong images of walking the streets of Damascus in the heat. But by now life has returned to “normal” but it does cause me to reflect on how I might have changed because of this trip, or that it would be a shame to have gone through such an intense experience and be unaltered.

I can think of a couple of external behaviors that remain changed so far, and hopefully they are indicative of some internal modifications as well. One is an inability to watch TV. The time in Syria was a time of lessened distractions, of being more keenly tuned into the presence of God, and I am loath to give that up. In my life television tends to be the bow that Satan uses to deliver his flaming darts. When I left I was not a big fan of TV, but watched a lot of news and sports and the occasional movie or TV show, particularly the last hour or so before bed. In the almost three weeks since returning I have watched a little bit of two football games (one with friends where I probably annoyed everyone chatting constantly during the game), a bit of news in the morning and no shows in their entirely in the evening. Sheila loves to watch shows at night and I will sit for a little while and watch and talk but I so far I have not been drawn into the characters or the plot. For me this reduction has helped to keep my focus on how God in his love and mercy continues to bless all life on earth and have particular spiritual blessing for those He calls His children.

The other is a greater outward demonstration of the love I have for fellow believers. I am even more prone to hug and encourage or connect my touch and conversation and I seem to simply say “I love you” much more. God has continued to impress on me the importance of the witness we give when we just simply love one another. Sometimes that may include deeds that help the one you love; sometimes it just being willing to climb into their world for a little while and listen and simply sit with them in a particularly messy mud puddle.

As to what God does with our trip to the Middle East I am entrusting that to Him. After processing over four hundred images of my own, after spending maybe fifteen hours at least working through my journal, I feel ready to move on to what it is God has in store for me next. If that includes a return trip to the Middle East, fine; if that includes a career change, fine; if it means life stays relatively the same I am okay with that. The important thing for me is that I stay aware of God’s presence, that He has and continues to change me, and that whatever comes is okay as long as I am able to experience Him in that situation.

Middle East Trip: Day 10

Day 10: Home

The flight back was surprisingly tolerable given its length, something like thirteen hours. The jetliner was rather new, with video screens built in the seat in front of us. We were all grouped together, just in front of the rear attendant/restroom area. Our flight from Dubai was filled with ex-military who had been serving in Afghanistan working for private contractors. Although I took a Lunesta a few hours into the flight after dinner and watching a couple of documentaries the sleeping pill did not have much of an effect on me. I would sleep for ninety minutes, wake us, watch a bit of Ghostbusters, go back to sleep, watch a bit more. After the third time I just stayed up and watched Green Zone, which I had never seen. The film is of course set in Syria’s neighboring country of Iraq. As they showed the streets of Bagdad (I now know to be Morroco) and home interiors (actually Spain) in the movie, I wondered where it was actually filmed, but it did bring to mind the tight maze-like atmosphere of Damascus. As it worked out the credits for Green Zone were rolling as the wheels touched down in Atlanta where we had to process through customs before taking off for XNA later that morning.

We experience a couple of small hiccups getting through customs but nothing serious. I did get told to keep my hands down as I stretched my back and shoulder while standing in line at a security check. Kind of a Barney Fife moment. Once through all the security and once again in the US everyone connected via wi fi and cell phones. Technology is quite marvelous. For the first time in ten days I sent a text to Sheila saying that I was okay and we were on schedule to arrive about noon at XNA.

We spent our time getting snacks, and chatting, and expressing appreciation to the many GI’s in the airport. . On the flight from Atlanta I finished reading Blue Like Jazz and a lot of the team napped. Coming into XNA I could see ponds of brownish water in the landscape that had not seen rain for six weeks. Even so it seemed a bit strange to see standing water on the surface of the ground.

Upon landing a wonderful contingent of friends and family greeted us; since the flight was half full unloading the baggage did not take long. We had gotten in early and Sheila was running late because she needed to get gas so I had a short wait outside by the curb. It was enjoyable sitting there, feeling the breeze and listening to the birds. I was back home in Arkansas.

Middle East Trip: Day 9

Day 9: Leaving Syria

Our last morning was a full one as we completed packing, grabbed a few last photos off the balcony, ate breakfast (I had settled into creating a Middle East egg burrito using boiled eggs, pita bread and other ingredients) and had bags out front ready to go by nine. Not only were Mohammed and his brother Hussein there on time with the taxis but V and the two brothers, H and H, continued to bless us, showing up from the other monastery in order to escort us to the airport. H S gave Larry a traditional Arabic headpiece and, after many hugs and kisses, as we drove off in the mini-vans, people in one, luggage in the other, he shouted out loudly standing in the middle of the street “I love you”.

Our trip to the airport took place in the morning rush of Damascus. Once again we were so tight in traffic I could easily have reached out our open window (none of the taxis we used were air-conditioned) and touched the driver next to me. Occasionally one would look up at me and register surprise to see a van of Americans in the middle of Damascus; I loved to smile and wave hello. I turned to Marsha and commented on how I would miss being a celebrity. She quickly got me grounded it, reminding me I was more of a novelty than a celebrity. My fifteen minutes of fame didn’t even last fifteen seconds.

Arriving at the airport V handled our baggage check in and almost without any effort on our part we were at the first security check where we once again said our good-byes. After passing through we laughed that we half-expected V to turn up yet again, maybe wearing a security uniform to further escort us to our plane. I did lose the tongs to my hooka as I passed through screening of my bag.

After a wait we were bused out of an older Jordanian airliner for a cramped uncomfortable two hour flight to Dubai. Sitting next to a Syrian exporter we engaged in a friendly conversation, with him offering to help us in Dubai if we needed it. With only a six hour lay-over I suspected we would be okay although I was so grateful for the offer.

Arriving in Dubai Rodney and I stayed at the airport while the rest of the group took a brief bus tour of the town. After the last couple of days of riding in buses and taxis the last thing I wanted to do was sit yet again in another vehicle. I spent some time just walking around the airport terminal, stretching my legs, and browsed the duty free shop which, as far as electronics and such, was much more expensive than back home. Since the others had left the airport they had to go through customs which presented a wrinkle or two in us getting back together, but it worked out fine in the end. After a hamburger from Braum’s at the airport we went through tight security checks, myself being frisked twice, and then boarded a wide-bodied jetliner. By midnight we were airborne and began the 13 hour flight back to the United States.

Middle East Trip: Day 8 Part 2

Day 8 Part 2

Mohammed did a wonderful job getting us back to Damascus in time. On the way we discussed with he and Victor how we all had misconceptions about each others culture, that Victor thought all Americans were stuck up and Mohammed thought all American women were promiscuous. Of course I had misgivings about security, believing I would not be able to leave the group while in Syria for fear of being kidnapped. As we head back in Mohammed points out a shepherd with his donkey tending sheep just a few hundred yards off the road, a scene that might not have changed for centuries; but then again, he might have a cell phone and laptop under his blankets for all I know.

We also make arrangements for Mohammed and his brother to take us to the airport at nine the next morning and he drops us off by one of the old city gates near to St Ananias’ house. We get there just before 7 and pay our 25 S.P. and the attendants graciously keep it open a bit late to give us time. There is a small church in the basement. Ananias apparently became the head of the Christians in Damascus, a position which eventually cost him his life. But somewhere back in time his home became a church and it has been restored and rebuilt several times over the years. It is situated right on Straight Street. It was humbling to think that Paul and other early believers moved in that area although undoubtedly the street is much changed over time. Touring the site did not take long but Rodney, Carol, Marsha and Angela began singing in the chapel, which is actually underground, and we all gravitated into the room with them. Other believers wandered in as well, and we sang a couple of hymns, including Amazing Grace, in English, and then V, H and the others sang a couple of hymns in Arabic. It was a sweet time of worship. Afterwards we chatted briefly with some missionaries from Jordan and their Lebanese helper. It was her first time to visit Syria and she remarked how she had overcome her prejudice of Syria, born of political intrigue. This was becoming a common theme of the trip.

Victor and the two brothers left us afterwards and we headed back to the monastery with H; just a couple of blocks away I spotted a hooka shop but found no shop-keeper. The man next door spoke excellent English and said he would be back shortly, that he stayed open until 3 a.m., so I planned to return to get a pipe for Neil and Zahra. At the monastery we had a brief time of debriefing concerning our trip where our love and gratitude for each other was most evident. Then Rodney, Carol, Amanda, Jonathan, Marsha and I walked back down towards Ananias’ house to eat dinner at Casa Blanca. On the way I made contact with the hooka shop owner and after a little bargaining on my own, settled on a price to pay when I came back from dinner, about $11 US.

Even our dinner that night was special. I ate light, just onion soup, to keep my fragile stomach happy but still it was excellent. The restaurant was almost empty but for us; nearby was a Syrian couple. But they had live entertainment; a quite gifted musician/singer was playing an ode. We had a great time kidding with him and restaurant staff and the lady sitting near us with her husband almost collapsed with laughter. The restaurant staff brought us a tray of fresh fruit as a gift after dinner. We left happy and full.

I picked up my hooka on the way back and after depositing it in my room, I headed out for one last shopping expedition. I wanted to get some sandals for Eric and myself. I knew it was late but didn’t realize just how late it was: well after midnight. A lot of shops were already closing since we were in the Christian sector but I saw some lights on about a block away. I headed towards them, walking actually in the street with traffic, as is the custom. Down one alley a folk dancing party was in full swing. Lots of young people were out and about. At no time did I feel unsafe or uncomfortable. The shops I came to sold food and clothes but no footwear. Looking to my right I saw some more lights a half a block away and thought I would give them a try before giving up. I did not want to wander too far from the monastery because the streets in Damascus are more like a maze than anything else. Sure enough, there was a leather shop. The shop owner was just closing up but he spoke a little English. He only wanted 300 S.P. per sandal which is less than $7 US. I thought briefly about bargaining for two for 500, but thought of all the modest surroundings I had seen and the fact I was in the Christian sector and way off the beaten shopping path, and it just seemed like it would be insulting. So with a hand shake and a smile we sealed the deal and I left one pair on my feet for the walk back to the monastery, happy to finally have on a different pair of shoes from the trail shoes I had been wearing for eight days. A quick shower and brief chat with Jonathan who had also gone exploring and we called an end to one of the most extraordinary days I have ever lived.

Middle East Trip: Day 8 Part 1

Day 8: Rich Blessings (Fri, August 27) Part 1

Friday morning began after a good night’s sleep; I woke earlier than just about anyone and took a short walk around the monastery, visiting the well-tended graveyard/gardens and enjoying the morning. My mind and senses have been so overwhelmed by a week in Syria. In Damascus, even early in the morning, it is already warm and everyone just oozes a slow sweat. I have been constantly thirsty for a week in spite of constantly drinking for 1.5 l water bottles which cost only about 50 cents. By the time I get home I will have lost 5 pounds and all of it is due to water loss. Either the food or the spices or some unknown bacteria has been tampering with my GI tract but this morning my stomach feels more settled and everything is under control. Poor Luanne is quite ill and would end up spending the day in bed. The population density is so different than Arkansas, and you see nothing but small shops, be it a car mechanic or clothes or food or you name it. I have seen nothing remotely resembling a big box store. Some of the shops, like in the open market, are quite small, probably only ten by ten. I find it unimaginable working all day in such a small space, and then probably going home to an apartment crowded with your family. What would you do if you just wanted to get away from people for a while? I have seen nothing resembling a park. I guess there is some solitude in the mosques. I guess you could walk out into the desert. People growing up there probably have no other frame of reference and do not even give it any thought.

At breakfast a pastor from Kuwait City shared some stories of how various denominational leaders had been gathering together to study the Bible. Quite encouraging. He shared how they introduce the Bible to Muslim, talking about themes, like the need for blood for cleansing from sin, that thread through the Bible even though written by at least 39 different authors in three different languages. At ten o’clock V and H showed up with H and his brother to take us on a day’s tour. We grab a couple of cabs out front of the monastery to go to the larger cab/bus area in the heart of the Christian quarter where we hire Mohammed for the day, a Muslim who is fasting for Ramadan but drives a mini-bus for a Christian cab company. We drive north out of Damascus, into the countryside, past a prison and up to Sednaya, a predominantly Christian area in the mountains closer to the Lebanese border.

Our first stop in Sednaya s the Patriarchal Monastery of Our Lady of Sednaya on the highest point in town, founded by the Byzantine emperor Justine on the sight of an appearance of Mary, the mother of Jesus. In the Sacristy of the Church is purportedly an original painting by Luke of Mary and the infant Jesus, one of four painting the gospel writer is reported to have painted. V translates as we are given a tour of the sanctuary and as we are leaving by way of the baptistery, we come upon a family who are having their six month old baby, Jamie, christened. The family invites us to witness and we gather and watch the priest baptizing little Jamie and then the family even invited some of women to participate towards the end. This was an amazing moment that seemed so right in that culture and we feel so privileged to have been allowed to be part of it.

We visited another church in the town, visited a couple of shops (including a candy shop, or course) and then went outside the town of visit St Elias Shrine, where tradition says Elijah was taken up to heaven. I have to confess I still possess a cynical streak that God has yet to completely root out and I am fearful at times we were somewhat disrespectful of our Christian brothers and their respect for tradition. Fortunately love covers a multitude of sins and we headed further up into the hills to visit a monastery on the site of some caves where Christians used to hide from persecution.

On the way up to this monastery we stopped for lunch at an outdoor restaurant overlooking the valley and enjoyed a wonderful meal. I was glad my stomach felt better for I had the first fish I had eaten in Syria and it was wonderful. But better than that was the fact that Jamie and his family showed up and where now accompanied by extended family from around the area, including Lebanon. They brought Jamie to our table, even gave the women some decorations off the christening cake, and a bit later traditional music was accompanied by dancing and many of our team joined in after getting quick lessons on the fundamental dance moves. It was truly a magical time.

We spend the rest of the afternoon at the monastery, enjoying the cooler breezes in the higher mountains, and saw a few small clouds along the peaks just west of us at the Lebanese border. They were the first clouds we had seen since arriving in Syria a week before We took many group photos as we knew this was probably one of the last times we would be together with our new brothers in Christ.. About six we loaded up the mini-van and headed back down the hill, asking Mohammed to try and get us to St Ananias’ house in Damascus by seven.

Middle East Trip: Day 7

Day 7: Leaving Bloudan (Fri August 27)

What they say about company and fish seems to hold true at our hotel. The entire fifth floor has a peculiar odor which seems to emanate from the sewer connections. Sitting on the balcony grants a reprieve but as I finish packing that morning I know I will not miss that smell.
The morning service was special. After bilingual worship Carol gave her testimony and then Rodney taught the final lesson. As we prayed near the conclusion I suddenly and unexpectedly began to weep. I was confused what I was experiencing. I prayed to the Lord, telling him I was not sure we had done what He wanted. A great peace and calm welled up inside of me as I felt the comfort of the Lord, as He simply asked me to rest in His love, that, sure, at times we stepped on cultural toes and at times I put my foot in my mouth, but that we had had done exactly what He asked of us and that the rest was in His hands. Marsha and other team members passed out rocks to all the attendees and they were asked to take some burden or hurt that God has shown them and bring it to the foot of the cross. And so began an extended period of prayer, reflection and cleansing as many came forward. I was so thankful for auto focus because tears constantly blurred my vision. I held onto my small rock as a reminder to pray for E and the evangelical church in Syria.
Afterwards many heart-felt good-byes were shared, email addresses were confirmed and partings were sealed with hugs and kisses on both cheeks, men as well as women. The conference had been a special time of fellowship and I would sorely miss them, All too soon we were on a bus, headed for Damascus, but still attended by quite a few of our new friends who would be staying in Damascus as well, waiting for their flights to depart over the weekend. On the bus ride I had a final opportunity to talk with C from Pakistan. He is quite a remarkable man, speaking five languages and very committed to the Lord and to his family.
Our destination in Damascus is a couple of monasteries in the Christian quarter which have a hostel-like area in which people can stay. We are splitting our group between the two monasteries for security reasons: the tension between Egypt and Algeria preclude them being housed together. But initially we are dropped off once again at the open air market since we have a couple of hours before we are to show up at the monasteries, although our team is dragging after all we have been through the past week. We did a little shopping but spent a lot of time at an open air café right outside the Umayyad mosque. We ended up missing the bus because it was getting into rush hour and the police would not let the bus stop in the taxi zone where they had dropped us off. So a group of us ended up having to take taxis to catch up with everyone at the first monastery.
I will never forget that taxi ride. There are no traffic laws in Damascus, very few traffic lights, and the taxi drivers could hold their own on a Nascar circuit. We are whipping through traffic, narrow missing pedestrians and cyclists. At least three time I suck in my breath as we just miss a collision; at least one there is a pop as the side view mirror hits something. We get lost and are whizzing down narrow streets with children just feet away. Amazing sights, like a bike which has the front wheel replaced with a rear one with disc brake pad on it. I see a horse drawn cart with traditional fringe barreling down the narrow street towards us with the horse at near full speed. The taxi driver futilely attempts a U turn into one way traffic and after a few minutes, bales on that idea and does another U turn across the traffic. All the while the two teenage girls with me and W, R and R, are calmly chewing gum and texting their friends. They say this is nothing compared to Cairo where they drive. I resolve to pray for them.
Arriving at the first monastery there is much confusion as bags are unloaded and sorted for those staying and reloaded for those of us heading to the other monastery. Unknown to me my suitcase is left hidden behind the monastery wall. Because of the narrowness of the street the bus has to back up several hundred yards to be able to leave. As they are working to clear traffic behind the bus, H climbs on the bus holding my vitamin dispenser and ask if it belongs to anyone because the bag it came from is not on the bus. As H and I retrieve my suitcase the bus is backing up. There is this scene of a huge bus backing down the street, people shouting and horns blaring, and me and H walking down the middle of the street, pulling my suitcase and trying to keep up with the bus. I look up at the bus driver and am amazed at his calmness. Just another day at the office for him apparently. After the bus backs out, the doors open and I happily climb back on board and we are off to our monastery.
Our monastery rooms are clean, simple and have air-conditioning. We are so thankful. Damascus is considerably warmer than Bloudan; I don’t believe I could have slept well without the AC. H is a guardian angel again, retrieving Jonathan's iphone and Carol's Bible that were left on the bus. We have dinner with our friends at Casa Blanca restaurant which is in the old part of Damascus, maybe a ten minute walk from the monastery, and just a hundred yards or so off of Straight Street and Ananias’ house. After a wonderful meal and time of fellowship it was hit the showers and then the bed for a good night of rest.

Middle East Trip: Day 6 Part 2

Day 6: Off to Damascus

During the morning service the worship time was sweet. As the week as progressed more and more of the service is in Arabic and sometime I am clueless what is going on around me. Apparently earlier some reconciliation took place between Algerian and Egyptian attendees whose countries had been at odds over World Cup Soccer qualification games last November, but I pretty much missed the significance of it. The music today reminded me of my early morning walk as we sang how the mountains will one day bow down to the Lord. Some of the Algerian attendees gave a presentation about how God is working in Algeria, with 32 registered churches and many more house churches and large number of Muslims coming to faith in Christ even as they keep their Muslim names.
At times there were long periods of what I assumed was housekeeping business in Arabic and my mind started to wander. I had felt the first pangs of homesickness that morning. While the streets are clean as far as garbage and such, there is an enormous amount of litter and as I headed back to the hotel I longed for the rural highways I cycle and the comparatively small amount of litter. I also reflected how God had gotten my attention, how I was experience numerous blessings, albeit some small and silly, but how back at home I probably experience the same thing but miss nearly all of them as I get wound up in my own agenda with emails, text messages and communicating constantly electronically and verbally and visually. I prayed I might stay as sensitive to God’s presence when I get home.
I missed Monica giving her testimony because we headed off with the young adults for our last session with just them. The concluding choice was to be taught to the combined group tomorrow morning. I have grown so fond of these young men and women. Most of them have such sweet tender spirits; a far cry to the anger and cynicism I demonstrated as a young man. In a way I wonder if our western culture isn’t in a way going to destroy something unique and special, that mass communication and mobility might weaken their love of tradition. I have to remind myself that I am probably in a bubble of sorts, being with Christian leaders, and that the culture they live in might present a surface peace but the people in the Middle East have the same sin nature as the rest of us and that perhaps hidden and not spoken of could be many deep and lingering hurts. At any rate I will not soon forget the soft gentleness of these lovely young men and women.
After lunch everyone at the conference loaded a couple of buses and we headed into Damascus, stopping briefly to snack on prickly pear cactus fruit (not a favorite with me). In Damascus the prime objective for everyone was shopping and I was fortunate to be escorted by C and E, the two Pakistanis. They helped me negotiate a good price for an outfit for my wife. I enjoyed watching them negotiate and tried to pick up some pointers. For all the emotion and gestures, the negotiation seems as much sport as seriousness, a game of social interaction with its own rules of engagement. When a bargain is struck everyone is all smiles and shaking hands. I am not sure I would enjoy the process every time I wanted to make a significant purchase.
From the Christian section we moved to the open market which was a scene out of a Hollywood blockbuster, just an overwhelming stream of sight, sound and smells. At time I am overwhelmed by the sheer number of people and how densely all the shops are positioned.
We also visited the Umayyad mosque, the largest in Syria which reportedly contains a sarcophagus that hold the head of John the Baptist. I found myself praying a lot for the men and women going into the mosque, that they might take a look at what John the Baptist said about Jesus, that God might reveal to them who Jesus truly is.
As Americans we have a certain notoriety. When people learn where we are from they are initially surprised; Americans have been few and far between in Damascus for the last 24 years. Our embassy had just reopened this spring for the first time since 1984, and still getting a visa for coming into Syria is not an easy process. But once they get over their initial surprise we are overwhelmed by their warmth and hospitality. An amazing number speak some English and to me it appears that the more educated on is the more English they tend to know.
We visited a church and walked a long distance and that many of us ended up at a coffee shop for snack and to rest. I don’t think I will ever forget my brief conversation with S. She was in our young adult group but I had not had any one on one time with her. At the coffee shop she told me about the work she did helping young women in Cairo. Then suddenly she stopped and looked right in my eyes. She said simply and purely “I love you.” To me it could have been the voice of God is was so sweet and pure and unpretentious. I told her I loved her too and marveled at a God who could allow them to so openly and innocently express their emotions.
Returning late to Bloudan I was surprised both by my hunger and by our meal: very close to chicken fried steak (sans the cream gravy), Cole slaw and French fries. Was this just another small blessing in response to my homesickness? I stayed up late, way past 1 a.m. knowing this was my last chance to visit with my new friends, that by tomorrow afternoon we would all be on our separate ways.

Middle East Trip: Day 6 Part 1

Day 6: Blessed Morning (Wed, 8/25)

As the week as progressed I have slowly adapted to the rhythm of life in Bloudan. Between Ramadan and the heat, most people get active sometime after sunset and stay up late. I actually went to bed earlier than I anticipated after the trip to Moses’ cave. I had planned to walk up to the internet café to send messages home but the young people warned me that all public computers are infected with programs that will steal you passwords and info. It seemed too much bother to create bogus accounts and not have access to my address book so I gave up the idea, but nonetheless it was well after mid-night before I got to sleep.

My sleep pattern had been to wake up early in the morning when the temps started to cool to quickly use the bathroom and finally pull a cover over me before going back to sleep. This morning was the same, but as I lay back down in the pre-dawn darkness the power suddenly went off and our ceiling fan slowly came to a halt. I got up and went on the porch and looked out over the valley which was without lights except for a small cluster on the far side. The sky was just beginning to brighten as the sun nudged toward the horizon. Jonathan woke up, and thinking I had turned the fan off because of the coolness, asked if we could at least put it on low. After filling him in on the situation I remembered my prayer of the night before, thought about it and said, okay Lord. After drinking a strawberry-banana drink and eating a cereal bar I had brought from home, I slipped into my clothes, grabbed my camera and headed out on to the deserted streets of Bloudan.

While making images right in front of the hotel I ran into a couple of the waiters from the restaurant coming to work. They put in very long days; some would still be at work when we got back from Damascus that night. Walking a block or so from the hotel I ran into a group of four young men who had just got off work from an adjoining hotel. Initially I hung back from them, not knowing what to expect, but when they spotted me they quickly doubled back and approached me and asked me where I was from. After a brief friendly exchange they waved good-bye and said they needed to get some sleep.

For the next hour I wandered to the outskirts of Bloudan, creating images and interrupted only occasionally by a car speeding to some unknown destination. As I left the town I was rewarded with some incredible vistas of the mountains and valleys, and as I walked I prayed and sang hymns out loud. I was overcoming by a sense of timeliness, that some of the first believers, perhaps some that heard Jesus preach in person or been healed by him, might have walked these very hills. After all, the Sea of Galilee is but a couple days walk away. As I praised the Lord for bring me here and revealing Himself at work in Syria I was reminded of Luke 19, when the Pharisees tried to get Jesus to silence his followers and He told them even the stones would cry out if they were to keep quiet

Much humbled by the whole experience I headed back to the hotel, running into a group of Iraqi street sweepers as I neared my destination. The oldest one said he was headed to Texas in four months time to visit a friend and hopefully find work. What a small world we live in at times. Back at the hotel I joined the team for morning devotional and ate breakfast and bought a kilo of almonds. I was ready for another day of watching the Lord at work.

Middle East Trip: Day 5

Day 5: Housecleaning Choice

Today proved to be an amazing day. The day started with some conferees joining us for our morning devotional. In closing they prayed the Lord’s Prayer in Arabic which was a very cool experience. Our schedule at the conference is revised daily and since Rodney was scheduled to teach three consecutive sessions to the adults, he asked me to teach one of them, the fourth choice, the housecleaning choice, where we make an honest inventory of those who have hurt us and those we have hurt and share that inventory with another human being. So in the morning session I gave my testimony, which I had pared down quite a bit but should have edited even more. For me it seemed to drag with the interpreter. Afterwards a lady approached me and said: You know, for many of these people you are the first person they have ever met who has been restored from drug use. Apparently in their culture with its emphasis on protecting family honor, if you were to engage in the behavior I did as a young man: being heavily involved with drugs and ignoring my family for several years, you would be written off permanently. So the concept of sharing shameful secrets with another person raised more than a few questions in the minds of the conferees as I gave the details of the housecleaning lesson. Initially there were statements how this could not work in their culture and questions about whether the one you share with could be your wife or your priest. I did my best to answer as the Lord led me, emphasizing how unresolved hurts and resentments were eating away at me before I shared them, how God had healed me of that, and that these principles were being applied in other cultures besides America.
I kept trying to move us into the small group environment where I thought we could answer questions more one on one, but W____ kept the Q & A open. In his wisdom he knew his community better than I, that as a group they needed to air their opinions and questions, and at the end he spoke eloquently how God had to address his heart concerning how God might work in these principles and asked the conferees to keep an open mind. Afterwards everyone was warm and friendly, lots of group photos were made and by the end of the day I felt certain that God was at work. That said I was more than happy to return to my comfort zone working with the young adults that afternoon.
That evening was a great one for fellowship. We horsed around a bit with the owner of the hotel, an 83 year old gentleman who loved to shake your hand and then squeeze it hard at the knuckles, and of course, you were to try and get the best of him as well. We also gained even more favor with the wait staff when we gave out some of the extra T-shirts we had brought to use with the young adults as prizes. On my way to the WC Mohammed, one of the waiters with whom I was connecting, showed me the hooka pipes (although they have different name for them) they had there at the hotel. 200 Syrian pounds (a little less than $5 US) buys you a cube of flavor soaked tobacco to smoke. I begged off but he insisted I take a taste, which I did. As the cube glowed as I inhaled I thought this was not too good of an idea: a bit of a trigger for me. Yet smoking is a big pastime in Syria, for both men and women; the idea of a smoke free environment has no standing there. And I had already priced the cost of a pipe as a present for my older son: about 1500 S.P. in the shops in Bloudan, though that is the pre-bargaining price You bargain for everything.
Another example of the generosity of the people at the conference is one of the attendees paid the way for a large crowd of us, our team included, to go to “Moses’ Cave”, which was actually the excavation created when they mined certain rock to build the Grand Hotel in Bloudan back in the 1930’s. A man with an artistic bend had put in sculptures and pools and furnishing and named it after his grandfather. We had a wonderful time horsing around but I sometimes wonder how I behavior is perceived by people outside our party. On the way back down the hill our small bus took us through a lot of back streets and I commented how nice it would be to go for a walk in them and make photographs. My fear of the unknown and being away from the team and conference was beginning to subside and I silently asked the Lord to give me an opportunity to walk these streets. I was soon to be amazed by how quickly he answered that prayer.

Middle East Trip: Day 4

Day 4: Cultural Education

Jonathan and I got our wires crossed and overslept and missed morning devotional. Sure did sleep extremely well Sunday night. Jonathan allowed my to play his Taylor guitar a bit before bed. Maybe that is what did it. It was the fulfillment of a life long dream of sitting on balcony overlooking Syria and playing bluegrass music and hymns. Hah! I could not even dream such a scenario.

At any rate since I showed up early for breakfast, the wait staff insisted I sit at the table set aside for our team and when I begged off to sit and visit with I_____ and C______ from Pakistan, I could not get anything to eat or drink. Apparently I was messing with their system but when everyone else showed up after devotional I moved and all was okay. At the end of breakfast I bargained with the street vender just below us to buy a half kilo of almonds. Paid a bit too much in my first transaction but it was Marsha’s money anyhow and so began my addiction to Syrian nuts of all kinds, but particularly almonds.

During the morning session Larry gave his testimony and many in attendance were deeply moved. After his testimony the whole assembly prayed for Larry and Monica; many tears were shed.

In session with the young adults I taught the house-cleaning choice, where we inventory our stuff and share it with at least one other person with whom we have build a relationship of mutual trust. I believe it was almost too much information at one time but afterward in the small groups I could sense the young men opening up a bit more and examining and testing the process. At our lunch break J_____ and I walked up the street to buy some water. As we crossed the busy street, he took my arm and guided me. I was very much touched by his caring. J______ even insisted on paying for my water (about 50 cents US for 1.5 litre) and a can of pineapple juice. J_____ is very indicative the generous spirit of the people attending the conference. And the fruit juice was incredible! I bought several more to enjoy first thing in the morning.

Also during our afternoon break E_____ and I talked at some length about ministry in Syria, and the complexity of law and religion in the Middle East. For the last few months there has been pressure on evangelical churches. His church of 350 have had to change location several times because non-orthodox churches can not get security clearances to meet off church property. Some of the pressure is coming from the hierarchy of the Orthodox church who fear loss of members to the evangelical churches. Yet on the local level there is often support from Orthodox priests. E_____ explains that relationships supercede laws in the Middle East which allows them to meet in apartments until someone blows the whistle on them.

Later that night we take a “Tuff Tuff” ride up to an overlook of Bloudan. The Tuff Tuff is a colorful three car shuttle that takes people on a fun ride. Ours was not in the best of shape: the high tech one had a lap top in the cab and nice stereo. Ours had broken benches and doors that tend to fly open on sharp curves. As Dick has said earlier: “This is why we have trip insurance.” What a sight we must have been as we careened by shops and cafes, traditional Arabic music blaring so loudly it was to the point of distortion and we American laughing and shouting “Baloza” in honor of the ice cream we had just eaten and the fact it was the only Arabic word we had learned. At times might cheeks started to hurt from laughing so much,

Middle East Trip: Day 3

Day 3: The Reality Choice

Our first day at the conference was Sunday morning. The two hotels where the conference attendees were staying sits on the corner of the intersection of a couple of main streets in Bloudan. Immediately behind the hotels sits a beautiful Syrian Orthodox Church. After the Islamic calls for prayer had faded away the church bells rang out calling believers to morning mass. I later wandered up the church during mass and heard the sounds of chants being sung that probably date back centuries. I felt an admiration for a more liturgical worship style that was foreign to me, having grown up largely unchurched and what exposure I had was almost exclusively in the Protestant tradition. The liturgical style seemed to blend seamlessly with the traditional culture that still dominates the Middle East.
We had breakfast at the outdoor restaurant; the food is good but such a different taste to my palette. There are a few items I am so-so about. Yet so far all of us have remained healthy. We quickly began to enjoy the warm hospitality of the Kurdish wait staff. They genuinely seem to like Americans; later in the morning they would invite me to join a card game which I would have to reluctantly decline since I was scheduled to teach. We held our morning devotional in the lobby downstairs. I am impressed with what I have seen so far of the buildings. The facilities are kept reasonably clean, especially in high traffic areas. The interiors are amazing, complete with tile and marble floors, high ceilings, wood paneling and carvings, elaborate chandeliers and engraved ceilings. But money seems to be lacking for maintenance and incidentals. An electric hand dryer or a soap dispenser may be on the wall but neither will work. Paper towels and tissues are not to be found lying around. I quickly developed the habit of stuffing tissues (used for napkins at mealtime) into my pockets for when I have to visit a public restroom because toilet paper will not be supplied. From the look of the exteriors and the streets, building permits, zoning laws and safety standards are either lax or non-existent. Home construction seems to be an ongoing multi-generational project, which makes sense in the fact of the fact that people have lived in this area for thousands of years.

The conference began about noon. Initially less than 100 people showed up but many were resting after getting up in the wee hours to travel in from Egypt and other locations in the Middle East. Many more showed up after lunch, which was at 3 in the afternoon. Not only is the schedule in the Middle East later that in the west, but it resembles Latin culture in its approach to punctuality. I taught the Reality Choice to the young adults (ages 16-25): Realize I am not God. I admit that I am powerless to control my tendency to do the wrong thing and that my life is unmanageable. This was the first time in my life I have ever taught using an interpreter, which was L____. The lesson went reasonably well, and Angela saved the day by sitting next to the computer operator to keep the proper slides in Arabic up as we went through the lesson. We broke into our small discussion groups and W____ and L___’s son, S___, was the interpreter for our men’s group. I do not know if this was their first exposure to open and transparent sharing or not, but it was interesting. J_____, who worked nearby at one of the hotels and was probably Muslim, sat in on our first session. I liked him. He was a small young men who later showed me scars on his arm he got when he was 13 year old while hunting wild dogs in the hills surrounding Bloudan. He would love to come to American: his hero was Michael Jackson and he later showed me his moonwalk which would have made the “King of Pop” proud

The pattern for the conference’s day schedule was already being set that first day. We would take a late afternoon break when a short nap was wise if not mandatory. People would begin to filter back into the rooms shortly after the scheduled start time and we would begin somewhere about 30 -30 minutes “late”, i.e. off the designated time. We would have a lesson and small group time, and then meet again for dinner sometime after dark. Since it was Ramadan and also to avoid the heat, shops would open only after sunset. Those who had the energy would then stay out past midnight socializing and shopping. It would take me a day or two adjust to the schedule but I would eventually adopt it in my own way.
That first night E____ walked me down a half a block from the hotel to a small shop where I could exchange dollars of Syrian pounds. The shop keeper’s daughter was manning the front door and after E______ explained my need she called her dad on the cell phone she held and he was there within a matter of a couple of minutes. I exchanged $200 and received 9200 Syrian pounds. I felt flushed with cash.
We all retired pretty early. A shower was a necessity before lying down to be comfortable as the temperatures slowly fell. I loved the view from our balcony, with the lights glittering in the valley below. Early in the day before dinner I had sat on the balcony and listened to the evening call for prayer from two different mosques. That evening Jonathan let me borrow his guitar and for 15 or 20 minutes before bed I got to play music on the porch. I really like his Taylor guitar. As we fell asleep the voices of the people moving about enjoying the relative coolness of the evening kept rising up on breeze and it reminded me of the reality that I was in a whole different world and culture.

Middle East Trip: Day 2

Day 2: Arrival

After layovers in Atlanta and Prague we touched down in Damascus close to 23 hours after taking off from XNA. The flight in from Prague was only half full: Syria is not a prime travel destination I’m thinking. I would later learn that the American Embassy has only reopened this past spring for the first time since 1984. As Americans traveling in Syria we were going to appear a bit of a novelty. Almost immediately my senses were overwhelmed with sights and sounds that were new and novel. At the airport many men and women wore traditional clothing including burqas.

We all stayed close together as we passed through customs. In one line a middle aged Syrian in contemporary clothes turned around, looked me over from head to toe, looked back my eyes, smiled and said: “Hello”. I immediately felt a bit more at ease. Wahid and Laila soon found us after we cleared customs with warm greetings. We were all touched when we saw the mother of an Iraqi family that traveled with us on the plane run up to her father joyously, even falling to his feet and hugging them as they greeted. For me it was an untold story. I wondered if the trouble in Iraq had played a role in splitting up their family, or of keeping them separated for some time.

Wahid got us loaded in a mini-bus. I was cautioned not to take pictures at the airport; it might be deemed sensitive for security reasons. Soon we were rolling through the streets of Damascus, the luggage piled precariously in back and Carol at times propping herself again the pile to keep it from descending on top of all of us.

Bloudon is a resort town in the mountains west of Damascus, about an hour away by bus. The town is warm but breezy when we arrive, and we are quickly taken in and led to our rooms, which are clean if modest. We are without air-conditioning, just a large ceiling fan, but we have a porch and windows to help ventilate. The staff deliver two towels, four 1.5 litre water bottles and a roll of toilet paper to the room I share with Jonathan Holder. Dick Nelson is on the one side of us, Rodney and Carol Holmstorm on the other side.

We have dinner at the outdoor restaurant downstairs which is all unfamiliar but tasty food to me. Tired from the traveling (I only slept a total of maybe 4 ½ hours on the plane) and wanting to be fresh for the morning start of teaching, we headed off for bed. Not that good of an idea. Because of Ramadan, the heat and the resort atmosphere, Bloudon only starts to really come a live at sunset. Our first night was probably my worst as far as sleep. I was repeatedly awaken by loud motorcycles racing through the streets in front of the hotel. I was later told that was probably Saudi’s who like to vacation in Bloudon. I was also awaken by some sort of firework/sparkler that sounded like wood burning. I woke up wondering where I was, then thinking the hotel was on fire and panicking a bit when I remembered they had not returned our passports. I had visions of me running out in the streets in the middle of the night dressed in nothing but my athletic shorts and without my passport and knowing no Arabic. I quickly realized it couldn’t be a fire because there is no wood in the hotel to burn: all stone, concrete and tile.Although it was at time light and fitful sleep, I went back to sleep and it felt good.

Middle East Trip: Day 1

Prologue: Friday August 20

The Friday of our departure was yet another warm morning in a string of hot days. The Lord had certainly acclimated us to the Middle Eastern heat with weeks of heat advisories and near 100 degree temperatures About mid-morning I double checked my bags, put an away message on my work cell phone and turned off my personal phone and left for the airport, occasionally double-checking my neck holder for my passport, money and plane ticket.

As my younger son Eric drove me to XNA I marveled at how God had brought me to this point. How was it that a very ordinary man from northwest Arkansas, who four months ago did not even have a passport, who for decades had struggled with substance abuse, who came into Celebrate Recovery six years ago as a depressed insomniac, how was it he would be flying to Syria to teach lessons to Christian leaders who grew up literally in Jesus’ backyard? Simple concerns ran through my mind as well. How would my body react to confinement in an airplane for up to 12 hours at a time? Had I spent enough time in preparing the lessons to teach? How would I respond to the eight hour time difference?

As we cruised through the Arkansas countryside I was so grateful for the many prayers that were covering this trip. A week earlier when out team had our final meeting we discussed how spiritual warfare had been intense that preceding week. For some it was external challenges, for others the attacks came through close personal relationships with unexpected arguments, but some, like me, the struggle was largely internal. Self-doubt was an old and familiar companion of mine. Who are you, doubt would whisper, to go and teach these people anything? You know little to nothing about their culture, you know hardly a word of Arabic, you are 30 years or more older than these young adults you are supposed to be with so how can you relate to their lives? And just look how messed up your life has been! Who do you think you are?

Of course the answer I am nobody. But God reminded me through scripture and other believers, that is just the point. If I go full of what I can do with my own agenda, there would little room for God to use me. God delights in using the ordinary in extraordinary ways so that He might be glorified. And if God can use Balaam’s donkey to speak, there is hope he can use me too. The good aspect of the spiritual warfare was it drove me deeper into the arms of Christ. I refocused, and sought out as many prayer partners as I could. And I spent additional time myself in Bible reading and prayer. During those times God encouraged me to leave all methods of electronic communication behind, that for the ten days of the trip my focus was on what He might be doing, how He might ask me to join him in a specific way and perhaps might “speak” a personal word or two to me as well. During last week of preparation a certain peace reigned until the night before we left. Then I believe everyone on the team experienced this same thought: “Oh, my, am I crazy? What am I doing?” By morning calm had returned and a ready or not here I go attitude settled in.

At the airport a few good friends took time off from their day to see us off and after bags were checked we prayed and took pictures and hugged and said our good-byes. In what seemed like a blink of an eye we were buckled into our seats and airborne. As the plane banked almost directly over my house and climbed into the summer sky above the Ozark Mountains we all looked at each other and said: This is it! We really are going to Syria!