So About Those Romans…

I love the 4th of July!

I love the fact that we told England to go home and made our own country. I love our flag and our patriotic songs. I love America’s Americanness - I love the amber waves, small town parades, big city hurry, a million choices and goodwill of my fellow Americans. I love my country!

This 4th of July we invited over a bunch of Americans, had a grill-out and lit “fire balloons.” Fire Balloons are a Jensen family tradition. My grandfather owned a little shack by the Elkorn River and taught us how to take a piece of newspaper, fold it at the corners, pin it and light it. When the wind and the humidity are just right – these elegant balloons will soar into the air – brilliant with a thousand points of light - “fire lace” in the sky.

When you’re in South Africa and fireworks are nowhere to be found – you rely on the 50 year old tradition of your grandfather – and light some Fire Balloons. It didn’t quite work this year – but we had fun in the failure.

Video: The Fire Balloons NOT Working (4th of July this year in Cape Town)

Video: Just to prove they do work (4th of July a few years ago in Omaha)

We were graced by a few non-American friends willing to be a good sport about the whole event. When the room spontaneously broke out in the American national anthem - we pleaded with our expatriate friends to sing their nation's songs. Germany and Holland represented and it was very Fourth of Julyish in World-War-II-Allies-Axis-Global sort of way.

Surround by national pride, this 4th of July made me think about my Americaness, and I am reminded how much the first century disciples thought about their Jewishness.

Picture this…Jesus has just spent 3 years with his twelve best friends, God Himself teaching them personally and doing a bunch of miracles – you know – walking on water, healing the sick, raising the dead, all that. He is brutally tortured and killed for being God – then miraculously comes back from the dead. Just to be sure the disciples GET IT – He hangs out with them for another 40 days – walking through walls, eating with them, telling them cool stuff.

Jesus put all his eggs in one basket – the basket of a few random guys that frankly missed the point most of the time. Now he's about to leave and these 12 guys are IT.

Just as He’s literally minutes away from His ride in the sky – He gives them his final words – unveiling THE HISTORIC PLAN TO SAVE MANKIND : Them + Holy Spirit

Since Jesus was not going to be around, He sent them One better –THE GAME CHANGER. Before the Holy Spirit, the disciples just couldn’t get it together, BUT after the Holy Spirit invades their life – they change the world.

Once Jesus breaks down THE HISTORIC PLAN TO SAVE MANKIND …you know what they say?

“Yeah, Yeah, Yeah – so about those Romans. What we really want to know is when will our country be restored? These Romans are a big, fat pain and basically we just want OUR country back. We miss being in power and since it looks like you’re about to head out of here – if we could just get an ETA on Getting Our Kingdom Back – that would be fantastic.” (Acts 1:6 - roughly)

What??!!??

The God of the Universe is unveiling his plan to save mankind for all time and they just want their country back?

Even though the disciples would have driven me CRAZY and I would have NEVER included them in my grand plan to, literally, save the world, I learn much from them because we are sadly similiar.

Jesus’ response to them was so kind (Acts 1:7,8) – He said…

• “it is not for you to know the times or dates” (He didn’t squash their hope for their country, but said don’t worry about the ETA)

• “you will receive power when the Holy Spirit comes on you” (what they really wanted was power – power to be restored to the Jewish people – and here Jesus is telling them they’ll get an even better kind of power, the Holy Spirit)

• “and you will be my witnesses in Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the ends of the earth (reminds them that He has called them not just to their little Jewish world – but the ENDS OF THE EARTH).
  

The ENDS OF THE EARTH can be anywhere – your office, your neighborhood, your Kindermusik group, the Antesaka of Madagascar (one of the 30 unengaged, unreached peoples) – anywhere you are called.

Just when I wanted to say to God, "Yeah, yeah, yeah...so about those Romans..." God called us, The Ostrands (and all of our overflowing Americanness) to this little spot on the tip of Africa.

He has called you too. And it’s AMAZING!

The best part is that He has a calling ONLY YOU can fulfill. No one else.

Floyd McClung, the director here at All Nations, talks about a prestigious position he was once offered with an influential mission organization. He was honored and would have jumped at the chance - but when he prayed about it...God said, "I have many people that can do that job - there is something else I want you to do that ONLY YOU can do. If you don't do it - no one else will."

Embracing your calling is the best, most scary, exciting thing you will ever do. Ever.

Don’t know where you’re called (and I say WHERE not IF)? Just ask God.

He longs to tell you! He is waiting – on the edge of His seat - to tell you!

Crawling By Inches

If I can avoid public weeping – I do.

No one wants to see a grown woman cry– rebellious mascara, hair bedraggled, words unintelligible. It’s just awkward for everyone.

Last week I was discouraged, emotional and just plain broken-hearted. Have you ever been so sad you can barely talk without a scene – a Titanic size meltdown, complete with heaving sobs and the fetal position on the floor?

I’d rather skip the Oprah drama – ideal guest on the Dr. Phil show, if at all possible.

So I was praying and got nothing. A big fat ZERO. I begged God for a word from Him. Something. Anything.

Silence.

I rarely feel God speak to me something specific and direct. The last time it happened was when Emme arrived a little over two years ago. I was sitting in the NICU – next to my sweet daughter, born with Down syndrome, barely a few hours old. I was in shock and weeping.

As I sat and watched her breathe in the little incubator – I felt Jesus slip into the chair beside me – and with the biggest, most expectant smile He said, “How do you like my Gift?”

How could I not like my Gift after that? From that point forward, I could only see Emme as the best, most wonderful present.

So, back to last week.

I was broken – misunderstanding, accusation, pain.

I asked again for a word from the Lord. I felt He said to me, “Is a Word from me enough?”

I thought long and hard about that one.

Was it enough?

The answer was “No” - a Word from God was NOT enough.

Although it was what I was asking for and deeply, desperately wanted – I wanted a Word plus a few other things.

I wanted apologies… I wanted affirmation…I wanted understanding – all from other people.

He asked again, “Is a Word from ME enough?”

But it still wasn’t. I wanted it to be. I SO desperately wanted it to be. Afterall, this is what I had been telling my friends in Ocean View for a month now - to trust his Word - despite horrific circumstances. Did I really believe it for myself?

I said to Him, “It’s not enough…but I want it to be.”

Again He asked.

I was crawling toward Him by inches…the smallest increments of movement possible. I finally said, “It is enough...if you sustain me.”

There.

I said it.

It was all I had. I meant it, but still…nothing.

Perhaps a verse from the Bible? Nadda. A revelation? Zip. A visual in my mind from Him? Zilch.

It was 6 am – dark and quiet in our bedroom.

I hoped against hope that the Word would come later that day.

At that moment - Karl sat up in bed and said 9 words he has never spoken in the 10 years we’ve been together.

Karl said, “I have a Word of the Lord for you.”

I was astounded. I suppose I should not have been surprised, but I really was.

He said, “God wants you to know…your identity is in Him and no one else. He loves you, he’s proud of you and He’s smiling on you.”

Wow.

May I always find my identity only in Him – not in my husband, my girls, my projects, my friends, my plans, my work, my dreams, my successes, my failures. My, my, my…

Only in Him.

Most issues I have in life are a question of identity.

Do we KNOW that we are His? That we are loved? Truly loved? When the floor crumbles around us, the war wages against us, the nights are dark, and we can only crawl by inches – is He enough?

He MUST be!

He is all I have.

He IS enough.

4 Clicks Out

As my father would say…sometimes “you’re a few clicks out.”

For example...the women in Ocean View and me – I’m 4 clicks out (a click is how far removed you are from a situation).

1st Click: I am from America.

Not only am I not from Cape Town, South Africa or even the continent of Africa – I’m from America. This means I cannot help but think like an American. For example...

• American Football – Give me Football over soccer any day– sorry about that, husband and World Cup! Gotta love a 45 – 64 point game over a “nail biter 1-0” soccer match– someone DO SOMETHING ALREADY! And what’s more fascinating at the moment than College Football Conference drama?
• I like ice in my Coke - With 5 free refills please. What is this midget Coke can you’re bringing me yet again? What can I possibly do with 5 ounces of Coke (US standard can is 12 ounces)?
• Home design that includes more than one plug in a room - I know I’ve mentioned this one before and really should just let it die– but I can’t come to terms with the morality of only one outlet per room. I think I finally said too much on the topic to my South African team mate. He said “Julie – why don’t you just go to a hotel?” I said “Why? It’s still a South African room with only ONE plug!!??!” I know I should let some Americaness go – but for crying out loud!
• Converting money into US dollars – 100 R still doesn’t mean a whole lot to me, and I feel like I’m using Monopoly money for all of my transactions (I don’t think in Rand yet and convert everything to dollars in my head by dividing by 7.5)
• June will always be a summer month to me - Here in the southern hemisphere the seasons are swapped and my daughter's June 29 summer birthday is now a winter birthday. Thanksgiving in the spring and Christmas is in the summer. What??!?

2nd Click: I’m not poor.

While I have never considered myself rich, I have absolutely no idea what it’s like to literally not have enough food to eat, not know what’s going to happen if my boyfriend’s cranky granny kicks me out of the dilapidated shack in her yard, and not be able to provide for the basic needs of my kids.

The kids here sometimes cry to their mom because they’re hungry and the moms will hit their children and say, “What do you want me to do about it? I have no money for food.”

3rd Click: I’m white.

I have no idea what it feels like to walk into a room of white people and be black. I try to imagine it and picture it in my mind – but the truth is I don’t know what it’s like.

4th Click: I only speak English.

Some words are just better in Afrikaans…especially when the women in Ocean View want to share something very personal from the heart.

For instance “lekker” – it means “good” – “nice” – “the best” – but more so. Outlets on every wall are lekker!!

Then there’s “bekeerd.” The women often get tripped on this one. If they are speaking to me in English and stop - I can see they are mentally trying to come up the equivalent of this…it means “to turn and around and be different.” Churchy people say “converted” or “saved” – but “bekeerd” is so much better.

So…as they say in the Princess Bride “Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up.”

CPx is nearing the end…I’ve learned a little bit about clicks:

It can be great to be a few clicks out. People sometimes respect the fact that you have a whole new perspective on life.

Sometimes a few clicks out is a few clicks too many. Thelma, an amazing colored woman from Ocean View came to our Bible study and was able to say exactly what was needed – having been from the exact place many of these women are.

She told them, “God is all you need. He will take care of you. You think you need a house? Trust God. You think you need a job? Trust God. He has provided for me – he WILL provide for you.”

Somehow it just would not have been the same hearing it from a girl 4 clicks out.

Suretha, Allison, Claudine, Thelma, Julie

I love this God of ours – “a million clicks out” from where I sit – who chooses to be “no clicks out” just for me… just for you . A God who uses our clicks – made our clicks – loves our clicks.

The creator of our sameness and differentness invites us to be fully ourselves (so very different and much the same) while fully His.

Picture that…fully His. Totally and fully His – as He made you – who He made you to be….clicks and all.

Taken Over By Vuvuzelas

The World Cup is HERE!

Vuvuzelas have taken Cape Town by storm!

"What is a Vuvuzela?" you ask?

It's a VERY loud, uniquely South African horn (powered by several air horns attached at the mouth piece). It sounds a bit like a renegade goat boldly protesting his sacrificial slaughter on the side of a mountain.

All that to say, they blow them EVERYWHERE - at the games, in the mall, on the streets.

Video: FIFA almost bans Vuvuzelas: http://g.sports.yahoo.com/soccer/world-cup/video/ssworldcup-19013964/what-is-that-buzz-at-the-world-cup-20287329

Opening Day Recap

On Friday, the opening day, I woke up at 6 am to the sound of the vuvuzelas.

Clearly I had forgotten to put in my "vuvu-stopper" earplugs (that's really what the call them, being that vuvuzelas louder than a chainsaw and comparable to plane taking off.)

The louder-than-a-chain-saw horns blared all day long for the home team Bafana Bafana! (Zula for “The Boys, The Boys!”). Just to make sure you don’t forget it – it’s not just The Boys – it’s The Boys! THE BOYS! You get the distinct impression the team is made up of boys.

In effect, South Africa shut down, with most businesses closing their doors so that workers could watch Bafana Bafana play. In fact, schools and universities are closed for the entire month of the tournament.

I must say I did throw a mini American tantrum when I realized they were CLOSING stores, not opening them, for the influx of tourists. I'm not sure the shop security guard appreciated my dissertation advocating for a serious reconsideration of this business model.

As for the opening game, South Africa (ranked #83) held her own against Mexico (ranked #17).

Tied 1 to 1 against the odds. Not bad, not bad at all.

Stadium built for the World Cup in Cape Town

I remember the first time I noticed the World Cup.

The year was 1998, and I couldn’t get away from it. If you’re not interested in soccer, it’s best to avoid any African, Asian, European or South American countries as a rule – but especially during the World Cup. In fact if you're waving your anti-soccer flag– you should pretty much steer clear of 194 out of 195 countries in the world.

I was backpacking around Viet Nam at the time and made the mistake of taking public transportation to the coast during a World Cup Game. The bus stopped in every small town along the way and all the passengers would pile out and gather around a shack to watch the game on a tiny TV (everyone but me, that is– I was protesting such an inefficient transportation practice).

When France won that year I was annoyed. Shouldn’t they just have surrendered or something?

Back to the current World Cup - here are some facts of note…

So only European and South American countries have won
the World Cup since it's inception in 1930? Hmmm...

And the World Cup 2010 song...

Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh! (kinda catchy – I can’t get it out of my head)...

Video: Official FIFA World Cup Anthem “Wavin Flag” performance at the opening ceremony
(with the official World Cup dance - like the Macarena, but not really)

The 2010 World Cup stories I find interesting…

1. NORTH KOREA IS NAUGHTY: The North Korean coach “accidentally” listed one of his strikers (main guy to kick the ball in the goal) as a goalie. Once your position has been officially submitted to FIFA, it’s locked and loaded. So the striker is now a goalie – but since he’s not really a goalie he won’t play at all and the team has lost a good goal scoring player.

I sincerely hope that North Korean coach doesn’t get wacked when he gets back to Commie Town.

2. MEXCIAN FATHER QUITS JOB: I’m not a big fan of Chivas (the Mexican team), but was impressed when one of the player’s dads quit his hard-to-come-by job to watch his son play in the World Cup (his employer, a soccer club, wouldn’t give him the time off). Come on, Mexico!

3. SOUTH AFRICA BLAMES THE FANS: Despite the fact that if you’re at a game without the "vuvu-stopper" ear plugs, the vuvuzelas will give you ear damage within 15 minutes, the South African goalie said the horns weren’t loud enough during the opening game (to explain why they didn’t win...huh...).

The vibe here in South Africa is that the World Cup will make a difference.

People have hope for a brighter tomorrow because the Great Game is played here and the eyes of the world are turned to this southern most tip of Africa.

So I have to ask myself – does it matter in the least to the women of Ocean View?

Here is what a few of my friends have said:

Video: Admidst the vuvuzelas, Ocean View women speak about the World Cup http://vimeo.com/12511782

And of course…here is what Jensen has to say about the World Cup:

Video: Jensen's Profound Thoughts on the World Cup http://vimeo.com/12513087

So there you have it...bust out your vuvuzela!

Shame and Pleasure Sorted

You have to give it to South Africans for reducing long, overused statements into one word. Why waste all that time, energy and valuable lung capacity on unnecessary verbiage? Frankly, I’m surprised Americans, of all people, didn’t come up with these time-savers themselves– being that we’re in a hurry and all.

Here are the top 3 “reduced statements” words:

Shame!
Short for, “Aww, that’s a shame!”

This one word takes care of…
• Oh, too bad.
• Wow, that’s awful!
• I’m so sorry to hear that!

Examples…
There isn’t a simple packet of white socks, ranch salad dressing or rubber bands to be found in a single store in all of Cape Town? – “Shame!”

Your world cup tickets are counterfeit? – “Shame!”

A baboon stole your sandwich? – “Shame!”

The baboon that REALLY did steal my sandwich 2 feet away from me today. He looked so cute when we were taking the picture. NOT CUTE eating my sandwich. Bitter!

Video of this baboon jumping into someone's car right
before the crime against my sandwich: http://vimeo.com/12317124

Pleasure
This handy little word takes the place of "It's my pleasure!”

Other ways to put it...
• It’s no problem!
• I’m happy to do that for you.
• Thanks for stopping in and spending your American cash in my store!

Examples…
When you buy your house electricity at the corner gas station –“Pleasure!”

When you thank someone for doing the dishes (being that there isn’t one dishwasher within a 3,000 mile radius) –“Pleasure!”

When you ask someone to pass you the “cool drink” (aka Soda Pop) –“Pleasure!”

This cool drink (Cream Soda) really is BRIGHT green here -
tastes basically the same -
but feels like you're drinking martian blood

Sorted!
This convenient word takes the place of…“Everything has been sorted out for you.”

In other words...
• It’s all been organized.
• Everything is taken care of.
• All the details have been worked out.

Examples…
Are we having pap for dinner? (pap is every South African’s favorite staple – a traditional porridge made from ground maize – kinda like mashed potatoes, but not really at all) – “Sorted!”

We’ve moved about 10 times in the past year and are just curious – do you know if our new living arrangements have been handled? – “Sorted!”

My take on it? I still haven’t sorted why...

- ALL the locks here require a key FROM THE INSIDE (Fire hazard? Hello, Backdraft!),

- there are NO light switches INSIDE the bathrooms (they are opposed to the fancy little reset switch in American bathrooms that handle any moisture issues)

- every room has ONE outlet ONLY (do you really need a lamp AND a cell phone charger AND a clock? – all in ONE room – you CRAZY Americans should be saving power)

-why most sinks have separate cold/hot faucets (missing what they call the “mixer” – to “mix” the hot and cold water – apparently there is no valid use for warm water from the “tap”– sorry about that, Jensen - just wash your hands in the scalding hot water).

Still trying to get sorted on all that...

I guess the idea is that you should fill up the sink with a
mix of hot and cold water to get warm - Holy 1950's!

Shame! Sorted! Pleasure!

A Lot or a Little?

I remember my first job at twelve years old.

Shocked, I couldn’t believe that this seemingly professional, sane woman would hire me to watch her two darling boys – two and five years old – by myself!

I was still ordering off the kids menu at restaurants, for crying out loud, could I really be trusted with other people’s KIDS – THEIR VERY LIVES?


When she returned home that afternoon and the two boys didn’t appear to need major reconstructive surgery and still possessed their original eight limbs, I took my $6 and thought - “Huh…I guess we’re all still alive. This work stuff isn’t so bad.”

My parents were both teachers and although able to spend invaluable time with us, didn’t have piles of money lying around the house. They taught me that you can have almost anything in life – if you worked hard.

When I made the cheerleading squad, I worked to pay the annual fees. I believe the first payment was around $200. Looking back, I think the fees were high due to all the extra material needed for our skirts – we barely looked like cheerleaders in our Amish length, Christian school, so-called cheerleading skirts. We’d secretly roll them up at the waste during competitions to try to appear like we were from the twentieth century and accustomed to running water and electricity.

To pay for cheerleading, I got a job at Burger King for the current 1989 minimum wage of $3.35 an hour. Horrified at actual customers, I ran behind the French fry machine whenever someone I knew came in. Somehow the BK polo shirt and visor cap just wasn’t my best look. To make matters worse, after taxes I had to work about 75 hours to make that $200. Let me just say, $200 was a LOT of Welcome-to-Burger-King-how-may-I-help-you’s.

For college, I went to a local state school in our home town. I lived at home, worked part-time and paid for half of my tuition. I think my books that first year were around $200. Although shocked books didn’t “come with” the tuition – it was a painful but doable amount of money.

When we got married my parents gave us the money they had set aside for the wedding, and we paid for the rest. The best part of our reception was the five tiered cake – around $200. After a few bites, it didn’t seem like so much money.

Our sweet little Jensen came along and we didn’t bat an eye at spending $200 on her pink polka-dot Land of Nod bedding (I was overdosing on pink at the time and am still a recovering pink-aholic). We received many wonderful gifts and skimped on other things – but good bedding was a show-stopper for me. She still talks about her "pink bed in America." I didn’t even feel that $200.


Sometimes $200 is a whole lot of money…and sometimes it’s not.

Here in South Africa – the average income for a colored South African is about $200 a month. That might seem like a great wage living in some African jungle – but here in Cape Town the cost of living is similar to our home town in Nebraska. Groceries are about the same, housing is slightly less, and vehicles are twice as much.

Of course living in a township you can get by with a very little.

A government subsidized flat is $50 a month, you may have one nice meal a week (maybe on Sunday, if you are lucky) and in a good month you can pay for your publics school fees and diapers.

Public school is not free here and there are no “food stamps.” Single moms do get about $33 a month per child and public health care is at a very small fee (if you can bare the extremely long lines and chance of catching TB while you’re there).

The women I am working with in Ocean View want a chance. One woman told me last week she would like to start her own candy business.
She found a candy-wholesaler and wants to sell the “sweet treats” to people in Ocean View. Perhaps in time, with her own business, and hard work - she could get a Wendy house, diapers (the ones her ex-boyfriend has promised, as his sole contribution to fatherhood, but never seem to appear) and pay her children’s school fees. Size of the average micro-loan? $200 – the price of a Big Dream in a South African township.

Is that a lot or a little?

Clomp, Clomp, Clomp

Shoes definitely make my “top 5 things in life" list (besides the obvious God, family and friends).

That list, in no particular order…

1. A good appetizer
2. An interesting conversation that leaves both parties feeling hilarious and heard
3. Checking it off my list (completion is like air to me)
4. Dishwashers and clothes driers (the two best things about the average American household)
5. Shoes

I love, love, love shoes!

Since I’ve come to Africa, my high-heels have been on hold and I am existing on a footwear diet of flip-flops and flats.

I miss my BOOTS – little did I know people actually wear boots here - now that it’s a freezing 13 degrees (13 degrees Celsius, that is – which is about 55 degrees Fahrenheit) – or I would have brought mine with me.

At the moment, I mostly wear my dress flats – and people say they know it’s me coming – with my notorious “clomp, clomp, clomp” (I can’t help this brisk walk-like-I-have-a-million-things-to-do clomp – I know it’s a bit freaky and out of place in this slower-paced ocean town – but I feel compelled to GET SOMETHING DONE and walking fast is the first step to getting there, I say).

Growing up my brother always walked about 20 yards behind me and now my husband walks about 10 yards behind me. I don’t get this – it’s a consistent 10 yards – which means he’s walking at the exact same pace as I am– but when I wait for him to catch up so we can walk together (clearly to reflect our perfectly united marriage), we end up walking SO SLOWLY. I know in some cultures wives are supposed to walk a few yards behind their husbands and I can honestly say I don’t think that would have worked out well for me.

So back to shoes - Jensen is fascinated that some people don’t wear shoes in restaurants, malls, and most stores. She will often say in the grocery store, “Look at THAT girl, mom! She doesn’t have on any SHOES! WHY not? Can I take mine off too?” (the germaphobia in me insists on shoes in the traditional “no shirt, no shoes, no service” establishments – of which there are no such signs or corresponding regulations).

Even Emme, tired of her fabulous toys, takes great delight in her “shoe box” and carefully examines each shoe daily.



And on this topic – the one teacher who attended our adventure camp only brought one pair of dress shoes with him (incidentally, no one seems to know what “dress shoes” are – they call them “formal shoes” – I guess dresses are for girls?).

He ran the entire INSANELY long and grueling obstacle course in his imported leather formal shoes. I was impressed and felt guilty I would not have sacrificed my leather boots for team building!

Which brings me to my thought today…

One of my friends in Ocean View life has been CHANGED by God. She stopped doing crystal meth (called “tik” here) cold turkey about a year ago – which is nearly impossible without rehab. Every day I’m inspired with how her life reflects God in such a dark, depressing place like Ocean View.

Yesterday she told me that her daughter’s 2 year old birthday was that day and how she almost sold her body for money to buy birthday cake a few minutes ago. For cake?! A few minutes ago?

She was smack dab in the middle of this temptation when she realized “Oh - I need to get to Bible study to meet Julie.” So she left the shady character (aka Pimp Daddy Cake Provider) and came to our Bible study. Thank God!

I told her we’d love to bring her some birthday cake and that Jensen would insist on a present. When I asked her what her daughter would like she said “Really? Can I say what I want? Please no toys – just a pair of shoes for her.”

Did someone say shoes?!

Today we brought her some birthday cake…and two pairs of shoes.





I see clearly that there is a battle in Ocean View – a serious battle for the very minds, hearts and lives of these precious daughters of the Living God.

How do we fight this battle?

Therefore take up the whole armor of God, that you may be able to withstand in the evil day, and having done all, to stand firm. Stand therefore, having fastened on the belt of truth, and having put on the breastplate of righteousness, and, as shoes for your feet, having put on the readiness given by the gospel of peace. (Ephesians 6:14, 15)

Those are the shoes I want to wear every day…every second…every moment…bringing the gospel of peace.

Gospel literally means “good news” and it is GOOD NEWS that there is a peace that the darkness cannot prevail against…even in the crack flats of a South African township.

Clomp, clomp, clomp!

Here is the "Happy Birthday to Charlize" video: http://vimeo.com/11961827