I haven't blogged in quite a while. After the first half of my fall tour I had four days at home to spend with my family which I wanted to do in a largely Internet-less way. When I started the second part of my tour, this time in North Carolina, I got sick the day before I left.
That was exciting. It's interesting when you have to pop Advil before a speaking engagement because you have fever induced shakes. And so, coughing, sneezing and feverish, I plodded through the first several days of tour. I don't know how you handle being sick, but I handle it by hunkering down, laying in bed when possible, and reading plain old fiction from old fashioned paper books. I definitely don't spend it blogging.
By today, however, I'm fat and happy and about to move from one city to the next. Visiting this particular city stirred up various ponderings I occasionally have about God, his calling and destiny.
While in this town I ran across a guy I knew from college. In college he was passionate about missions. In fact, he was far more passionate that I ever was. He was involved in prayer bands (prayer groups for specific people groups), he was on a team that did performances in churches to raise awareness of world missions. It seemed like he was involved in every missionary aspect of our school. He also had a great call to reach the Native Americans. I had none of that.
When we did our senior missions research and writing projects I think he cranked out a work on reaching an Indian tribe out West. I had no idea what to write about so I located a spot in on the globe with a nice climate and found an unreached people group fortunate enough to live there.
Now, sixteen years later, he is the assistant-manager of a discount store in this small town. I am a missionary in Kosovo.
What is up with that? I really don't get it. Why, in the sovereignty of God, am I missionary watching God do great things why this brother is living in a small town, his college dreams apparently forgotten?
I don't believe it's because I am anything special. In fact, this guy had heart for missions in college while I was messing around in student government. I don't think it's because I'm more spiritual than him, or more gifted or anything else. Did he make some mistake that disqualified him? Haven't I? Did he lose the vision for some reason; haven't I, only to regain it and press on?
So this is an odd post whith which to recommence blogging, but I wonder about my brother and the strange divergence of our paths. I don't understand it all, but I'm grateful that, for whatever reason, I'm working among the people of Kosovo with the Christian & Missionary Alliance.