Jesus broke out of the box I put him in.

You may have noticed that I have been posting pictures of some pretty incredibly cute kids on all sorts of social medias over the past few months. A lot of people have been asking what those pictures are all about and I believe it is time for me to share some stories, leading up to today, which was one of the most incredible mornings of my life. 

To give you a little history, my friend Bailey met a family that lives in the Edgehill projects. (The whole story can be read here and here on her blog, because there is no way that I could tell it better than she did on her blog). We started visiting the community to play with the kids, meet their families, and to start building relationships. We had no money, no name, no mission statement, and no idea what we were doing. Our sole purpose was to love on a community that is broken, and to do our part to break some of the racial, economical and social boundaries that separate communities like Edgehill and those like Belmont University across the street.

Kids planting seeds of soft grass in their park

So much has happened since then. We began playing with the kids in the park every saturday, and brought some of our friends along too. After months of getting to know these families, we hosted a back-to-school cookout for the community, where over 100 kids and their families came out to share a meal, play games, and get ready for school with awesome little backpacks and school supplies donated by the Ethos Church congregation. This all started with three or four of us that would regularly go on a Saturday, but this last weekend we had 16 volunteers who gave up their saturday to love on the kids so well. We planted grass, taught the kids about tomatoes, and gave them all a chance to share something that they are grateful for. 

Fast forward to today, September 22nd. 

One of the girls from Edgehill has been coming to Church with bailey for the last few weeks because her parents needed a babysitter. This morning, when Bailey was picking her up, some of the kids that we know well from the area asked if they could come to church too, so they all piled in the car and came along. 

The family of the boys that came is Somalian, and are devout Muslims. We have known this from the day that we met them, and it has always been a debate to us when (if ever) it would be okay to tell them about Jesus and our faith. We didn’t want to be those white rich kids from some church who come in and bring them toys and a bible and make the community hate us. We try to be a light in the community, that is the light of Jesus in us, bringing some hope and love where we could, always praying that God would somehow give us some opportunity to share Jesus with these kids  in a way way that would not offend them or their rich cultural heritage handed down by their families. 

Anyway, back to this morning… 

Ethos Church at Marathon Music Works

We filled up a massive long row of chairs got ready for worship. It was so cool to see the church welcome the kids; smiling at them and introducing themselves while seriously struggling to pronounce their beautiful African names. 

Worship started and some of the kids stayed seated. One of the boys, who is probably the most intelligent, beautiful and kind young man I have ever met, said, “Jordan, I want to see the words on the screen”. I picked him up and continued to sing the song that I knew so well. Suddenly I hear this little voice. I look at the face which is right next to mine. He was grinning from ear to ear, looking straight at the screen and singing the words “oh you bring, hope to the hopeless and light to those in the darkness”. Immediately, I started tearing up. I cannot tell you how beautiful it was. The truth is, I don’t know if I ever really thought that these kids would hear about Jesus. I wasn’t sure if I was ever going to have a chance or the courage to tell them, but in that moment, he was singing about Jesus, and he was so happy.

After the sermon, it was time for Communion. I couldn’t stop thinking about what the theological protocol is for teaching young followers of Islam about the Holy Sacrament of Communion. If you have ever been to Ethos Church in Nashville, however, you’ll know that our communion time is a set around community and sharing a meal together, while being thankful for what Jesus did for us on the cross. We sat the kids around a big round table, and got the elements. We told them that we do this because we love God, and we love each other, and this is a symbol of community and love between us and God. We then held up the bread and shared what we are thankful for. “Candy, friends, bread, juice, Jesus-” wait, what? one of our kids said that he was thankful for JESUS. are you kidding me?! Granted, he probably has little idea what he even meant by that, but hearing the name of Jesus come out of his mouth made me so happy, I cannot even explain.

Group nap time at the park

We then bought Subway, went to the park, played games, and had a 3 minute group nap time under a tree. I could never have imagined how important these kids would become to me, and how much more of an impact they could have on my life than I could ever have on theirs. 

I am overwhelmed by how good God is. Even in my weakness, my disbelief and doubt, God can use me. Looking over at all these boys who I had been praying would one day come to church, and hearing them sing to and about Jesus was an unreal experience. God is so good, so alive, and working like crazy.

Please continue to pray for all of these families and our ‘ministry’ of loving the community. Pray that we don’t put God in a box, or hinder the plans that he has for our community that are way beyond what we could ever hope or imagine. 

God is good, friends... God is good.

taking denver home...

My last Sunset in Denver, CO

As I write this, I am 38, 000 feet in the air flying back to my home city; Nashville, TN. My time in Denver has ended. This truly is a sad thought. The good news, however, is that the impact of is far from over.

At the end of each week, I, as a CSM city host, ask groups “what are you going to take home from this experience? What one thing is going to be different when you go back to your city?” During my last week as a host, I asked myself this question a lot, knowing that my own time to go home was soon approaching. There were just so many experiences, conversations and learning curves, what one thing could I possibly take home from this experience to a city that is so different to the one that I was in?

The danger in going somewhere to do “Short Term Missions” is believing that the work that you did was only in that particular city or country or area. We have to realize that there is no place that we go to do missions- Nowhere further than where we already are.

I must admit that I have been so guilty of this mindset before. When leaving South Africa, I arrived in the US with a mindset that I would one day go back to do Mission work. I did not see the opportunity of a new country and city to serve and to love people for four years. It probably took me a year living in Nashville to realize that the city I was in is my home and my (at the risk of sounding like a cheesy missionary kid) ‘mission field’!  I selfishly spent my time in college, making friends, impressing people, and spending money on things that didn’t really matter, all the while trying to figure out what it meant to live for others. I think I knew, and over time I started taking small steps toward this goal of living my life for the least.

Sybian: My first friend in Denver

While living in Denver, I felt like every aspect of life was my ‘mission field’. Not only did I get to serve and love while I was around the city with my groups, but also on my weekends and during break times. I occasionally sacrificed going out for dinner because one of my homeless friends was drunk and needed to vent about how hard life is. I sat with men sleeping on my porch in the middle of the night, offering water and what food I had inside. I helped bandage my friend Sybian’s wounds when I would rather be exploring the city. A friend and I went to spent our break at a nearby public pool, and ended up entertaining kids from one of our ministry sites that recognized us and wanted to play.

Myself and James who slept on our porch

Please understand, this is not to “toot my own horn” or boast at all, because it had nothing to do with what I did, I had just finally discovered what it meant to love people at all times, even when it is inconvenient.

So what am I taking home from my experience with CSM in Denver?

Nashville is now my Denver. I will see the people on Broadway like I saw those on Colfax. I refuse to ignore, walk past, or turn a blind eye to those in the city that suffer just because it is inconvenient to me. I commit to clothing, feeding, loving, and sharing Jesus in any way possible, whether that be volunteering with organizations, hanging out with kids in Edgehill, or talking to a stranger on the bus. 

Why? Because I am called to Nashville, it is my mission field, and I am going to live like this is true. 

A story.

I would like to tell you a story about a friend I made here in Denver. For the sake of the story, I am going to call him Ralph.

I first met Ralph at a Motel on the infamous Colfax Avenue. Many people who are homeless in Denver end up staying in grungy Motels on Colfax as it is better than the street yet only require payment for one night at a time. Ralph was homeless, and he had come to the motel for a few nights rest. He wasn’t your stereotypical homeless man at all. When I met him, Ralph was sitting on a chair outside of his room reading a book. He was completely sober, carried great conversation, and was very educated. He was probably in his late 20’s and wore khaki pants and a button-up shirt. He told us a little bit about himself, and how he was trying so hard to find a job to get off the streets and out of the Motels. A job for him wasn't coming easy, and he seemed a little demoralized about it. He told me that most nights he slept and ate at the Denver Rescue Mission. We listened, empathized, and prayed with him, truly believing that God could find him a job. You could tell he was a little bit ashamed of his situation, and weary of what we were doing there, but still grateful for the prayer and burritos that we were able to offer him.

The next monday I went to volunteer at the Rescue Mission downtown. As I was handing out meals, I saw a man that looked strikingly familiar, but I just couldn’t figure out from where. We stared at each other awkwardly for a few seconds, and eventually he said, “hey, you’re the guy that I met on Colfax!” I suddenly realized that our paths had crossed again. For the next 6 or 7 weeks, I saw Ralph at the rescue mission every time I was there. Always looking clean and sober, quite happy to stand in line for a meal in one of the toughest parts of the city. 

Last thursday Ralph walked through the line to get breakfast as he always did. This time, however, he looked different. Ralph was wearing a suit! A really nice pinstriped grey suit, with a new shiny white shirt. He was cleanly shaven, with a sophisticated haircut and a new confidence about him. Slightly taken back, I asked him why he looked so spiffy that day. “I got a job!!” he exclaimed. "A great job working with clients of a steel manufacturing company." He was so happy, satisfied, and ready to take on the world, so different from the man who I had met just weeks before. 

It is an incredible thing to see prayers answered. As far as I know, Ralph isn’t even a Christian.

I can only continue to pray for Ralph, and hope that the friendship, prayer and love that I have been able to show him over the last few months will somehow speak of the love that Christ has for him. I hope and pray that after I leave Denver in a few weeks, someone else may enter his life; someone who continually tells him about Jesus and prays for him. Someone that will have the joy of hearing him talk about that time that God provided him with a job, and a strange guy with dreads befriended him at a Motel on Colfax Avenue.

reconcile.

Looking down Colfax.
Denver, CO

I have been in this city for a little over a month now. I really can’t believe how quickly it has gone by. I feel at home walking down Colfax, the “Boulevard of broken dreams”, I’ve driven the prayer tour countless times, and have enjoyed more meals at ethnic restaurants than my growing waste line would care to remember. I have had my hand (quite literally) in thousands of meals given to Denver's homeless. I've had the opportunity to sort text books being shipped off to Africa, and even help plant fields of vegetables that, when harvested, will go to people who don’t have access healthy produce.  

All of these things are wonderful, and I am so blessed to continue to have these experiences with CSM. However, when I am asked what the favorite part of my job is, none of these things seem to make the list. So what is the best part of the job for this City Host?

Watching reconciliation happen.

Let me explain… 

Being born and raised in South Africa, reconciliation is a word that has been close to my heart my whole life.  I was born just two years before the democracy of my country was, and I grew up with the first generation of people born free and equal by the law. Since 1994, my country has been working tirelessly to break fresh stereotypes of anger and hurt left behind from Apartheid. It has not been easy for the country’s leaders. So much seems to rest on their shoulders, but the place I see reconciliation most in South Africa is not in large-scale government attempts or in politics, it is in the people. This is not a South African reality, but a universal reality. In Denver, not only is there a great need for racial reconciliation, but also reconciliation between the rich and the poor, the young and the old, the marginalized and the included. 

Reconciliation doesn't happen when the rich feed the poor, it happens when we all get on the same level, sit on the ground against a tree stump and talk about life's joys and hardships. That is why Jesus sat at the well with the Samaritan woman and went to dinner with tax collectors. Jesus set this example of reconciliation for us as something that we must all play a part in.

Being with CSM, I have been able to watch those walls of separation break down. I get to see the story being changed;

When a 15 year old girl calls a homeless person ‘my friend’. When a young student quietly sits and listens to the entire life story of a 68 year old man living on the street. When a group of teenagers stand in a circle in a McDonalds, hold hands, and pray with a man that most would simply ignore.

I have seen students hearts changed by these experiences, and I have seen my homeless friends with joy on their faces because of the mere fact that somebody listened.

These are the moments that impact lives and bring reconciliation. These are the stories that will change the future of our churches, our countries, and our world.

I want to leave you with a quote from one of my heroes, Desmond Tutu. When speaking of the role of Christians in reconciling our world, he says:

"We are made for goodness. We are made for love. We are made for friendliness. We are made for togetherness. We are made for all of the beautiful things that you and I know. We are made to tell the world that there are no outsiders. All are welcome: black, white, red, yellow, rich, poor, educated, not educated, male, female, gay, straight, all, all, all. We all belong to this family, this human family, God's family."

And that, friends, is the best part of my job.

thanks hey durbs...

I think I’ve expressed how I feel about the word ‘home’. I’ve also expressed my love for the continent of Africa, Durban, my family, and my life there. But this December holiday was different. The old saying of 'you don't know what you got til its gone' has never been so real to me. Coming back was even better than I ever expected. Everything about the last 3 weeks was perfect, and I hope to capture a bit of my time here in this blog.

The excitement of arriving home came to one ginormous climax as I looked through the glass arrival doors of King Shaka International Airport to see signs and faces. The best signs I've ever seen at an airport welcome... ever, and people that I love the most. people I missed and voices I had not heard. It was all too much. There is no feeling quite like it. it was the best welcome home I could've asked for. thanks guys!

Once all the hugs went around and the hello’s were exchanged, we settled down and headed for the beach. There really is no better thing to do on a Durban December day. Did I burn? yes. Was it worth it? uh, of course. The beach was packed with friends and strangers (vaalies). I was carted off to a friends house and hung out there for a bit. The lack of sleep was starting to kick in, and my body was tired. it was 7pm and I decide that I was way too tired to do anything, and jet lag was attacking my system. The plan: go home and sleep. The four friends that were with me invited themselves over for dinner… I stumble into my house extremely tired and see this. Yup, I have the best friends in the world.

A night of Pizza and cooldrink (pop/soda) made with real sugar and not high fructose corn syrup with a group of my greatest friends. what’s better?

Three weeks later, on my last day in Durban, I look back and have a hilights package of the best weeks I can remember. Here is just a taste of some of those hilights along with some photo’s (instagrams)…

 

 Drinking tea outside on a couch while starring at the view of the ocean in front of me. 

Finally getting to be with the Livesy’s and visiting Mike’s memorial. love and miss you bro- so much!

 local SA soccer match - Ama-zulu vs Kaizer Chiefs in the worlds most amazing stadiums. Nothing quite like it

Christmas down time with my parents and a perfect Collins-tradition styled Christmas dinner. relaxed, lounged and enjoyed Durban summertime.

South Africa vs Sri Lanka Cricket match!

 Boxing day traditions with my cool ballies. (the coolest)

Enjoying good music with the indie kids at Unit 11’s last gig. these are local heroes: Gangs of Ballet.

Eating the best indian food at House of Curries. with cool friends, of course.

beach!!

Making another t-shirt with our trusty old sewing machine

African Sky Sunsets

New Years party in westville with old friends.

On that note, an incredible home-made firework display, where one misfired firework nearly killed me.

Jumping off the pier during the first sunrise of 2012 into a beautiful and glassy indian ocean.

Lunch with friends at my house, followed by good old bronze beach and a Dear Reader gig in true indie-durban fashion.

Maaaaates

Hanging with the biggest gangster I know. (not really, but its fine.)

Farewell on the roof of The Royal Hotel

Durban Durban Durban. Even with all your flaws, messy roads, terrible internet speeds and buckets of sweat that you draw from my body, I still cannot think of a reason not to love you. Thank you city, old friends and new friends for the most incredible December Holiday of my life. I really pray that the memories I made in these 3 weeks will last me until next December when we see each other again.

Cheers for now.


Jordan

Blessed - A crash course of my first semester

I have a friend who explains everything good that happens as a blessing. for example, “I had such a good conversation with _______ today. it was such a blessing!”. This was a little confusing to me at first, but now I’m starting to enjoy it. I think all of us (particularly me) don’t see every good thing that happens as a blessing from God. Instead we just see it as life. Something good happened, and that’s it. So upon reflect on this first 6 months in the US, I can’t help but say that I have so many blessings. Ridiculous amounts. In fact, I’d say I’m over blessed, which is a blessing in itself. So I want to attempt to share some of what’s been happening in my life from the eyes of someone who sees life as a blessing.

Firstly- so blessed to be at Belmont and blessed with an accent that helped me meet people quickly.

A few weeks into being at College, I realized that I was going to have to start making a whole new group of solid friends. A new support group, and new accountability group. The beginning was a struggle because I didn’t have much community. There was a really hard week or two during this time, where I had probably the first mini-meltdown in my life. Yup, I was homesick to the max- There’s a whole blog about it. To add to this, things often reminded me of Mike, who had died a month or two prior while I was away in the States. I was dealing with all of this alone, and my friends thousands of miles away. it was a struggle to say the least.

enter Pembroke Hall…

Pembroke is a dorm (res) at Belmont. They’re known for their community. Pembroke has a tradition where the whole hall dresses up ridiculously and goes to support the women’s volleyball team (which isn’t a hugely watched sport). I started going to these games and slipping in. I made a few friends from the group and decided that I wanted to move there at some point. Enter Sam, Jesse, Asher and Brook: Four oddly different guys with odd names. The first time hung out with these guys, we played racquetball (the american version of Squash). In typical Jordan fashion, I over-competitively went for an impossible shot and ended up diving into the wall head first and being semi-concussed. first impressions right?

Starting friendships with pembro’s was easy. They convinced me to go camping with them over a break. I went along somewhat reluctantly. Little did I know that building friendships would be so easy with these new friends who were as obsessed with Lord of the Rings as I was. 9 of us were on a man-weekend of epic proportions and each took a name of one of the Fellowship from Lord of the Rings. I was given Gandalf (naturally) and we were the fellowship. I realized that this was the community and brotherhood that I needed.

Since then, I have taught them as much South African slang as their minds can take, and everyone now says my name how I say it (with an accent) so that it’s different to other Jordans on campus. Riley says 'kiff, bru' more than I do and every day I am reminded how blessed I am to have these friends. It was God’s plan and God made it happen. He turned that difficult week into something great.



To add to all this, I've been so blessed to have my boet Josh and his wife Heidi so close to me. So close that I was able to be at the hospital the night that their son Jonah entered the world. I’ve selfishly wanted a nephew since the day they got married, and I was there the night that he arrived. crazy! Spending time with the 3 of them has been a massive blessing and even better than I thought.
Thanksgiving came around and my entire family came to Nashville! It was the reunion of all reunions- our first thanksgiving altogether since 1999. Having family to give advice and to love on me for a week was the exactly what I needed.

Right now (as I write this) I am in the air heading home for the first time in 6 months.  what a blessing! The anticipation has been building for weeks. I started counting down the days 2 months ago, and its finally here.

So there’s that… My year of blessing. count them, because there may be more blessings than you realize.

A letter to Home...

The time has come. Yes, I've been living almost 4 months in the United States, and I have finally started feeling homesick. I was mostly in denial, thinking I’m just not a ‘homesick person’, but alas, the sensation has hit me lately and there isn’t much I can do about it. This so-called 'sickness' isn’t necessarily sadness. For me, its a thought process.

I guess the first time I noticed it was when the Springboks were getting their big sendoff to the world cup in New Zealand. I was in class, thinking about the tweets I’d read and the video’s I’d seen with all the thousands of people cheering for the boys. Memories from 2007, and last years World cup flooded back to me and I started to miss my country. I told the person next to me that I missed home. she said, “yes I know. I can tell by the flag you drew and the lyrics of your national anthem that you just wrote out on your notepad”. I looked down. there it was: the SA flag with the worlds of the anthem, Nkosi Sikalel’ iAfrika. I even added in a little bit of ‘Shosholoza’. Caught redhanded.

I think the rugby has made me miss home more than anything. Sometimes I tell my roommates or people around me in-depth team news about the Springboks just because I NEED to tell someone that Patrick Lambie is starting, or that Australia lost to Ireland. They just nod and pretend to be interested (which I appreciate). I guess its just not the same. not the same as hearing it on the street, on the radio and from our pastor on stage at church on a sunday!

Watching the boks play and singing the national anthem cheers me up a little, even though I usually watch alone from a dodgey online stream on a small pixelated screen. People say I wear South Africa shirts like every day. I also have my flag on my wall, and my scarf either around my neck, or on the side of my bed. (thanks to Siya and Damien for that one!) But this missing rugby has made me realise the small things that I miss about home. 

First and foremost, I miss my family. I miss my friends. my little carpet-dogs. I miss walking into a home. that is mine. that I can lounge around wherever I want, eat whatever is there, and watch as much South African and European sport as I’d like. I miss braai’s with family and braai’s with friends. I miss the smell of that boerewors cooking with the sound of Hugh Bladen screaming “STEFAN TERBLANCHE” in the background. I miss home-made meals. (no, “home-made” meals in a box don’t count). chutney, and its flavor of Simba chips. Meat that tastes like real meat, Coke and fanta orange -made with real sugar, BILTONG, milo cereal, R5 bunny chow.

I miss hearing different languages and that wonderfully bland thick durban accent. I miss being able to talk to car guards, security guards and petrol attendants. I miss seeing the ocean anytime I drive home or to church. I miss driving on the left-hand side of the road in a manual car. having said that, I miss driving. I miss Grace and playing in that awesome band. I miss saying ‘howzit bru’ and ‘cheers’. I miss the South Africa handshake (trust me, there is one).  I miss paying for things in Rands. I miss beautiful South African children. 

The list goes on and on. I know some of the mentioned ones are random, but I think it explains my point… 

I miss home.

I guess the old cliche, “home is where the heart is” is totally true, and I've finally come to understand it now.

I hope this blog doesn’t sound depressing, that was not the idea. I want you to know that I am loving life, my university and I love being here. God is so good, and every day I remember how blessed I am to be here. Even in all the joy reflected through facebook status’s about my great life, I miss you all. a lot. This is reflected in the fact that I have started counting down to the day I come home Christmas. Under 3 months now! also, I watched Invictus tonight. I had chills for most of the movie. I am glad I have been taught how important home is- It will make my 3 week visits mean so much more.

Lastly, I'm pretty sure facebook has rejected me as a South African. I never see anyone in my news feeds and I'm pretty sure you don't see me. I do love hearing South African voices on Skype calls though, so feel free to call anytime!

I love and miss you all. Don’t forget about me! 

Jordan