When the music fades,

And awe is stripped away (1. see below) from the excitement of existing and thriving in Egypt for a year, and I simply come, what will I have to say?

The next print we struck was the picture of a footprint in the sandy Nile banks. Perhaps that image may be a bit misleading, as was the name of our retreat grounds: Nile Country Club. As my ignorant bliss twinkles into cultural appreciation, a broken and foreign question conceptualizes within me. Where do I pursue reform in a culture and where do I accept with grace the inconsistencies? Much of our ebbing intention at this esteemed estate ended with everly earnest erring. I caught my cohorts, then convicted myself of a deadly, insidious, and seemingly ethnocentric crime. Okay, deadly is an exaggeration, however, it felt deadly when we were consistently presented with clean white ashtrays in lieu of hearty, mouth-watering chicken and rice. We assumed our white dominance would supercede the years of relaxed and rhythmic reasoning behind sweetly impractical service expectations.

Each day we faced new and exciting(?) challenges. Our inaugural night smoked out any quiet conversation due to the presence of a bass blasting wedding party. I've been to a wedding or two. Perhaps the crowds I run with just do not possess the rowdy fortitude to compete with the night life of Egyptians but this banquet endured until the wee small hour of 2 a.m. Even if you were able to overrule the rattling clasps of our bass brothers, we rose half-heartedly upon the chimes of 8 and a half a.m. eager and aching for a burly breakfast. Still I ponder our immediacy expectations, especially when recalling the jumbled and irritated face of the club staff as we sat anticipating our unmerited meal. Our emotionless and drudging faces only sagged deeper when the news of breakfast hours crashed in our eardrums. "10 o'clock. We serve you at 10 o'clock," rattled the Arabic accented English, vocalizing a miserable truth.

The query at hand stays tattooed on my fingertips, inking each stop we pause at to collect and reflect. Where do I impose change and where does embracing further the Kingdom walls?

Daddy, my need for your obvious displays of Glory gasps for more breath each day I remain. I desire your guidance, especially concerning the interaction I receive from your friendly Egyptian children. Show the walls that fortify this Heavenly Kingdom so that I may assist and glory in the wrangling of new sheep into the moted protection of a high and craggy fortress. Heighten and widen, sink deep and stretch long my faith in your love. Assure my gut with passion and persistence along a narrow paved, tattered path to back-breaking and burden-crushing existence in the companionship of a dangerously fearless Lord, Jesus the I pray for your faithfulness to fulfill this prayer. Amen.


Side notes
1. This is an intentional replacement of the word "all" to be used a pun. Not "all" has been stripped away. In fact, many (but not all) of the facilities our youth and team reserve are better equipped than similar ones we would have used in the States. Awe has been stripped away. The wide-eyed faces are returning to some semblance of weariness and overworkedness.