Well, here is Podcast #3 - way overdue. It’s been a busy, hectic and somewhat difficult Spring. But Spring AND language School are over! This podcast contains a preview of our Summer and a few updates on ministry and partnership opportunities.
I also mention in the podcast a couple of upcoming giving opportunities. You may do this online or you may designate giving through your local C&MA Church.
You can subscribe to the RememberMongolia podcast on iTunes by searching for “Remember Mongolia” in the iTunes store. Then just hit “subscribe” and you will not miss an episode.
Hope you enjoy the podcast and thank you for your continued partnership with us for the Name and renown of Jesus in Mongolia.
RememberMongolia Podcast #3 [15:28m]:
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June 29th, 2008
Most of my close friends know that my least favorite chore is laundry. When we get to heaven, I really have a bone to pick with Eve. Pain in childbirth and laundry – I’m not sure which consequence of the fall is worse. The childbirth pain is rough, but it doesn’t last more than a couple of days at the most…and it results in more laundry.
Doing laundry is such a long process and the further you get into the process the worse it gets. I don’t really mind the sorting part – that’s kind of like a game. Then the machine part isn’t so bad. But when you get to the folding and putting away, that’s just no fun at all. Probably the worst of all is the socks. I might enjoy the matching part if there was always a match. It seems like ever since I left home as a college student I have had a “sock bag.” The sock bag is the place where the socks with no mates go. Sooner or later some of them turn up. On the other hand, I’m pretty sure there are socks in my bag that has been waiting for a mate since those college days.
I’ve learned something since moving here. The explanation I have always heard is that the socks actually go missing in the dryer. Like there is some kind of black hole there or a mysterious suction device that snags them up never to be seen again. Perhaps they are hanging out with all the emails that have ended up in cyberspace somewhere instead of the intended mailbox. I have proved that is not true. How do I know? Well, primarily because we don’t have a dryer. We hang our clothes on racks to dry. Yet in the last two years, socks have been disappearing at an exponential rate. So maybe the washing machine has actually been absorbing the socks, but shifting the blame to the dryer. We have one of those, so it could be a possibility. Of course, just because I find socks between the couch cushions and under the shoe rack doesn’t mean anyone should take personal responsibility. But to be fair, I must share the conclusion that the dryer definitely has gotten a bum rap.
(This is our current dryer. The photo above is the dryer we wish we had…)
June 28th, 2008
Well, it wasn’t our Jonathan (as you can see). This Jonathan is a tad younger. Our Jonathan is still in the States with Cori having a great time with Grandparents and other friends.
We have had an enormous and unprecedented amount of rain over the past two weeks. Yesterday, while our friends Doggi and Erka were in the city, we had another big rain storm and the road going out to their home (outside of the city) had become impassibly flooded. So they ended up spending the night with us. We enjoyed chatting with them, and were entertained by one-year-old Jonathan (his Mongolian name is yuroolu - which means ‘blessing’).
It was fun to have a one-year old hanging around as a house guest. But we do miss our own two teenagers.
This week marks the end of language school and the beginning of a busy summer. Stay tuned for a soon to be released podcast that will give all the details!
June 27th, 2008
I received the email on Tuesday. It came to me and to the others who are either formerly or currently a part of the Empty Hands Fellowship in Franklin, TN. It came with a simple subject line.
“Denny Denson is with Jesus”
I am way too far away to participate in the visitation and memorial service that is taking place as I type this blog. I will just throw in my own memories, and salute to his life from half a world away.
It was sometime in the mid-90’s when I first met Denny. Our church at the time was in a very affluent and white downtown Franklin, TN. It’s not that affluent and white is bad … I just remember at that time feeling that God might have more for our church. So, I crossed the proverbial tracks (well, it wasn’t literally across the tracks … but it was on definitely on the other side of town) and began prayerwalking in a neighborhood that was really quite the opposite of the neighborhood our church was located at the time: poor, not-white (mostly black and hispanic), typical inner-city problems of drugs and alcohol abuse. It was the beginning of a journey for me. At that time I wanted to meet people not like me. It was during one of these walks that I was passing by the “First Missionary Baptist Church” and really felt that I was to go inside and meet the minister. I went into the building and was greeted in the sanctuary with a rather friendly “Can I help you?”. When I explained to the man that I was a pastor of an all white church with a desire to understand integration issues, and how we can work together for God’s Kingdom across racial lines, the man’s face lit up like the fourth of July and he invited me to sit and talk. And talk we did. For two hours. That was a true Divine appointment, and my first introduction to Denny Denson. I remember walking away from that meeting thinking that this was one of the most God-centered men I had ever personally met in my life. Indeed, he still is.
Our relationship grew over the years. Our church eventually changed locations and moved into a building that was on that side of town, and not too far away from his church. Denny was never threatened by that. In fact, he was excited and helpful. He took me with him several times visiting homes in the “neighborhood”. I would just watch and listen as he would masterfully deal with a wide range of people - from young drug addicts and dope dealers to little old grandmothers who would insist we come in for chittlins and cornbread. I was always encouraged when we would do this. I remember him telling me once, after dealing with some teenage boys heading down a wrong path, “I’m going to make a ghetto pastor out of you, yet.” I smile today - because, although I still don’t consider myself a ghetto pastor (I’m not that good), I learned so much from this man of God.
Denny was a spiritually sensitive man. Which could be considered a strange thing, considering that back in the 60’s he was a “Black Panther” quite literally raising hell on Chicago’s south side. Once, while he was sharing his testimony with me, he looked me straight in the eyes and said, “Bernie, there was a day when I would have just as soon have shot you as looked at you.” That makes for an uncomfortable moment, actually. But then he’d break into his smile and say, “But I love you now, brother. Jesus has made me a new man.”.
It was his past experiences as a Black Panther that enabled him to deal so beautifully with the troubled people of his parish. We were prayer walking together one evening and came across a man with bicycle coming out of Strahl Park (a park located between our two churches). The man said something quite unintelligible, and Denny waved his hand at him and said to him quite harshly, “I don’t want to talk to you.”
Okay, I thought. That’s an interesting response.
We walked closer and the man stopped, and said something else that I couldn’t understand.
“You get outta here, I don’t want to talk you.”
I was thinking that maybe Denny was being a tad harsh. It was pretty clear at this point that the man with the bike was quite intoxicated.
The man then said something else, and Denny immediately softened. “Floyd, there you are. You know that I am here for you, and I’m waiting. I’m waiting for you”. Denny gave Floyd a hug, and we went on our way. Denny saw and understood that we live in a spiritual world, with spiritual entities - and that is what was really controlling Floyd. He brushed it away and talked to the person. That was the epitome of Denny to me.
I had the privilege of praying with Denny almost every week. A small group of Franklin pastors would always meet for prayer and fellowship on Thursdays. I loved hearing Denny pray to his “Master and King”. The few times I was able to join him (and others) for fried chicken afterwards, was always a blessing. (Denny loved his chicken!) My only regret is that I wasn’t able to join him more often. He was a man at whose feet I should have sat a lot more while he was on this lonely planet. I still sit at his feet today.
I told Renee’ this morning, that Denny really had a lot of influence in my life. He probably never knew it. Shame on me for not taking the time to tell him. Shortly after our first meeting, Denny invited me to the Franklin Ministerial Association (an African American fellowship of pastors), and there I realized for the first time in my life that I am a white guy. A very white guy. As I sat in the meeting (the ONLY white person there), I realized that this is what minority culture faces every day. All the time. For the first time in my life I really began thinking differently about cross-cultural and cross-racial relationships. I remember discussing this numerous times with Denny. His insights were always forward, timely and helpful. Here I sit today, in a place where once again I am a ‘white guy’ (i.e., not Asian). Denny’s influence spreads from Franklin, TN to Central Asia.
I never knew Denny to be afraid of talking about death. He was always making comments about the inevitability of eternity. I always appreciated that, as well. His comfort with eternity seems fitting today. He’s finally home.
Well, now you’re there, brother. I know your homecoming was even better than expected. I am so happy that you are with the Master. I look forward to the day I’ll be home and can join you, as well.
I seriously hope there’s fried chicken.
Media:
Williamson Herald
Tennessean
In the Studio With Michael Card (Interview with Denny)(MP3)
June 20th, 2008
Today we officially graduated from language school. Sort of. Our school took us all to a place little way outside of UB and had a little “Ceremony of Certificates”. Afterwards we cooked shish-kabobs and had a small Mongolian bow-and-arrow demonstration. Renee’ brought a couple of awesome tasting salads. Bernie has decided that archery is an activity he would like to explore a little more.
I say we are “sort of” graduated, because we still have to go to class for one more week. Go figure.
Here are some photos of the day’s activities.
Bernie’s final exam was translating Mongolian into English for the new students.
Finished! (After next Thursday…)
Bow and Arrows … I want one
June 19th, 2008