Writers' Block

It has now been a few days since we last met, dear friends, and for that I apologize. It seems that there are times when people seem to get tired in the evening when the sun goes down. Though this is not the case if you grew up Egyptian or have recently been a student at any university, living with a family solicits my recollection of submission.

With the madness that silhouettes the radiant life of a Maadi Community Church youth intern, we still have remnants of our past lives that pay alms on occasion. For instance, this past Sunday I lay down for a nap at 6:30 p.m. just before dinner only to rise again at to a darkened room and a tap tick tock of a silent clock whispering the midnight warning. Midnight? Indeed. Though not expecting to start my day by the renewal of a clock, the counting sheep were now asleep and their snoring kept me boring.

With little more to do than squirm in bed, I resolved to video games and instant messenger, rotting my brain with one, and satiating my social appetite with the other. Both like candy. But I didn't need candy. I needed NyQuil and a back rub. Alas, neither came despite my prayers.

There were a few moments, however, when one tactfully chosen individual sneaked through my impervious fortress of a soul and tricked me like a wooden horse, into rendering said soul into the satin hands of said friend. So don't jab too hard in days to come, for the tender soreness that comes from such an event lasts longer than I agree to. Not only is that so, but the same event occurred the following Wednesday night only a few hours later, with a small hand chopping at the 3. Neither solicited but both direly due.



Just as any normal week in Egypt, desperate rededication to the Lord found its form this time in the frame of a frightening car ride to the newest installment of fast food service. (That's right, we got a Burger King). Upon arriving at a restaurant where I can have it my way, it dropped to my knees and hugged myself and nearly kissed the ground but stopped when I remember how that would as likely die instantly of disease-saturated dirt if the car ride hadn't done it first. Elated to be alive, we ordered our food in this two table gas station restaurant. Conversation began and I like any true Israelite forgot what my God had just saved me from. In our defense, our conversation fell into a trance of learning how to more aptly identify the Gospel understanding to a misled and thirsty people, mostly Egyptian Muslims.

Our adviser was a 25 year old Egyptian man, Sanke, who had been working for a "worker" fund raising company. He had spent a good part of his life taking the Truth of Jesus Christ to Muslim companions. He could have taken a collection at the end of dinner and the other 3 of us would have paid for his trip to London in a few months; his words possessed inspiring power. He had these things to say to our intrusive curiosity: 1. Do not be like the Egyptian Christians, for they act like they are better than everyone else; 2. Do not be like the American Christians, for they act like they are better than everyone else. "So what do we do, Sanke? Be like Jesus? [scoffing chuckle, sarcastic nudge]" 3. Be like Jesus. "Oh."

We heard stories of Sanke's witnessing to Muslim taxi drivers withdrawing responses such as "Why don't they teach us these things?" (in regard to a loving, compassionate God). We asked of persecution and heard small tales of (il)legally restrained drivers' licenses by fasting and frustrated officers of the law (not as big of deal here as in the States). All with great adoration poured out to God the Father and Jesus Christ our Lord.



This week has multiple conversion experiences involving taxi rides you would have thought stunt movie worthy. I was taught how to make an omelet with the least amount of clean up. I even stumbled upon a fantastic idea for a satirical narrative, I want to call it Seussian Theology. It sounds great but I have very little inspiration. Perhaps, it is not appropriate to make fun of other religions, but it would be fun. For now, Muslims and Greek Orthodox can rest in peace for it will be many moons before or even if this endearing novella reaches Gutenberg.

This weekend we had 5 days off for the end of Ramadan. As I left Kevin's villa, the guard on duty didn't even allow me to utter a full good night before he exclaimed with every once of emitting exuberance, "We eat tomorrow!" We rejoice together for a moment and I traveled home. Also within this extended exemption from the week, my host family departed for a night of desert camping. They returned with petrified coral, shells, as well as a petrified sand dollar. I have seen the pictures of this place known for its remnants of whale bones. That's right, whales... in the desert. It is known as Valley of Whales near Fayoum. Incredible.

Finally finding the time and words, I have now chiseled out a block of what latest adventure we cross in the constantly whisking Egyptian winds. I offer you this writer's block.