The Four Minute Mile

I read something fascinating this weekend. In the mid 1950's there was a worldwide determination to run the world's first "four minute mile" (which is about 1.6km). Up until that point, it had never been done. In fact people had said that it was impossible to do. Anyone who ran a mile in less than four minutes was said to be likely to die. Then, in 1954, something very interesting happened. Roger Bannister ran four miles in a time of 3:59.4, and in the same year two other runners from two different continents also beat the four minute barrier. It seems like people were just waiting for the first person to reach the milestone before everyone realized it was possible.

I come from a very educated family. My extended family consists, mostly, of engineers, accountants, doctors, and teachers. I'm very proud to be a part of this calibre. I have been taught about life in a specific way, and I've seen how successful it can be through my family. However, deciding to go be a missionary out of this upbringing scares me, because it's something I've never seen or been taught. In fact, in my mind, it often seems like something impossible to do.

I've learnt, though, that the first time you try something is the hardest. After that, you've seen that it can be done and the whole impossible task suddenly seems so much less daunting. I remember the first walk I took into Windsor (an area filled with drug dealers and poverty). It seemed so scary, and I had to override my mind's resistance the whole way in. Every time since then, however, it's a natural and easy thing to do. The first time I spoke on stage at youth, I was so scared looking at all the people who were waiting to listen to me. Now, even though I still get very nervous before hand, I keep calm on stage, because I've done it before, and survived.

It does take courage to do something for the first time, but just because you've never done it before, doesn't mean that it can't be done. Sometimes we have to challenge our own mind, and beat our own thoughts if we want to grow. Most often we are our biggest opposition to growth. 2 Corinthians speaks about taking each thought captive, because often it is our own thoughts that restrict us. 

I hope I can be like Roger Bannister, strictly training myself and pushing through the psychological barriers to achieve the impossible. I find that I need to beat myself to believe that I can be a missionary to the street kids of Brazil.

Every month that passes by is a month closer to me leaving South Africa, and everything I've ever known. I don't know how it will work out, but I know that I'm going to do it. Again, having your support does make this impossible seem a lot less fatal.

Sing Out A World

"In the darkness something was happening at last. A voice had begun to sing.There were no words. There was hardly even a tune. But it was, beyond comparison, the most beautiful noise he had ever heard. It was so beautiful he could hardly bear it.

Then two wonders happened at the same moment. One was that the Voice was suddenly joined by other voices; more voices than you could possibly count. The second wonder was that the blackness overhead, all at once, was blazing with stars. The new stars and the new voices began at exactly the same time. If you had seen and heard it, you would have felt certain that it was the stars themselves which were singing, and that it was the First Voice, the deep one, which had made them appear and made them sing.

The eastern sky changed from white to pink and from pink to gold. The Voice rose and rose, till all the air was shaking with it. And just as it swelled to the mightiest and most glorious sound it had yet produced, the sun arose. The earth was of many colors; they were fresh, hot and vivid. They made you feel excited; until you saw the Singer himself, and then you forgot everything else.

It was a Lion. Huge, shaggy, and bright, it stood facing the risen sun. Its mouth was wide open in song and it was about three hundred yards away."

That scene by the brilliant C.S. Lewis in his book, "The Magician's Nephew", from the first in the Chronicles of Narnia, is one of my favourite passages in the series so far. It's Aslan pacing around an empty world and slowly creating Narnia using a song out of his mouth.

On Friday past, I e-mailed over to Sao Paulo my application to volunteer officially with ABBA. They offered six different options for the kind of volunteer work I could do when I'm there, the first being the option of serving at Casa Elohim with street kids brought in off the street into a safe home where they are introduced to family life, and two of the others that I applied for as secondary options are both prevention projects to keep families, and especially kids aware of the dangers of the street. I've had a lot of discussions with my friends over in Brazil, and been asking them everything I can about the worries, the dangers, and any helpful tips that they can give me as I keep preparing as thoroughly as I can for this new world adventure.

I have never visited South America, and know even less about Brazil, which makes it quite exciting as I feel very much like there really is this new world that has been empty in my knowledge and Aslan is walking about creating it, slowly, with every special addition of information to my imagination.

I hope we never reach a place in life where we settle for the environment that has been created around us. I hope that we always pursue new adventures, trying to create a stronger character within us, knowing that what is around us is a product of what we deem as acceptable. Let us reawaken our imaginations to help sing out a world that we want to be proud of, and one that is closer to the world intended by Aslan in His beginning of it all. Thanks for walking this road with me. :)

A Walk on the Streets

I can still smell the faint flavour of what I assume to be cigarette smoke emanating from my shirt. My hands are now washed, but were sticky and coarse just five minutes ago. My feet are still throbbing after a return from a walk up the road to a way of life that is dramatically different from my own life experience. An area filled with desperate people who are swimming in the fading hope that their lives would be better in South Africa than in their own country. The words of a new friend are still reverberating in my head from our brief conversation, finished not even twenty minutes ago, "Why am I here? Why am I Themba??? I'm a good guy. I'm not....saying I'm better than them. But I'm different."

The Oxford dictionary defines 'just' (as in 'justice') as "Based on or behaving according to what is morally right and fair". (Ok, it wasn't the Oxford dictionary. It was my phone's definition. Don't hate.) This past weekend I spent some time on the streets in the closest poverty hit area in walking distance from my house. It really opened my eyes to a whole new side of justice that I'd only ever been told about before. The people that I met on the street (prostitutes, teens, drug dealers) were aware of the injustice in their lives, and all they seemed to want from me was someone to talk to about the purpose of this injustice. It was humbling to see that the people on the street have strikingly similar quests to make their lives meaningful as the people on the other end of the financial spectrum. They feel like their choice in this pursuit has been taken away from them, like there is no other way to live at the moment than to go from one day to the next, just living. However, I know many middle class people who could say just the same thing.

I don't think I am in any better a situation, philosophically speaking, as any of the people I met on Saturday. I just think that there have been times where I've busied my life so much so that I can avoid the question of purpose. There have been times where I've learnt to kill that voice of my conscience that cries out asking "Why??", but just because I ignore it, doesn't mean it isn't a very real challenge.

Speaking to Themba on the street:

T: "Why am I here? Why am I Themba??"

Moment of silence

G: (pulling out my remote) "If you found this on the ground and didn't know why it was created, you'd look for whoever created it so that you could ask them. The same thing works with us. If we want to know why we were created, we need to find out who created us."

T: "God?"

G: "We need to find out who He is."

For an update on my move to Brazil: I've received the forms to apply as a volunteer at the ABBA organization there. There are pretty hardcore questions in there. My Portuguese DVD's arrived early, so I've done a couple of those lessons. I've also begun the process of enrolling at Mackenzie University in Sao Paulo. So the ball is definitely rolling.

Every week seems different to the last. One week I feel confident in this vision to wrecklessly serve the helpless and needy, and the next week I feel like I am making a huge mistake. Your support definitely makes up the difference.

Statistics

Marcos hasn't seen his parents for the last five years. He's been sniffing glue everyday on the streets of Sao Paulo for the last four years. But this escape from reality doesn't come cheap. In order to get this glue, that he puts in a bag and inhales for hallucenogenic highs, he needs to come up with money. He's seen some of his friends sell drugs. He's also seen some of his friends, mostly girls, offer their bodies to tourists and even each other, just to earn some extra cash. Alot of his friends are involved in gangs and they protect businesses and get paid some good money by bussinessmen. But not Marcos. He has his own deal. He has an agreement with military policemen, who give him drugs and then tell him to sell the drugs to tourists. So Marcos does so. He approaches the english speaking foreigners in his land offering them a little bit of extra excitement on their holiday. Most of these tourists are quite excited about the idea, and after the deal is complete, Marcos' "employers" appear and aggressively threaten to arrest the unsuspecting tourists. After a bribe is then completed between the tourists and the military policemen, Marcos gets his small share and makes it through the emptiness of another day.

Marcos is 12 years old.

His chances of making it past the age of 18 are getting smaller everyday. 

UNICEF estimated the amount of kids living off the street in Brazil at 12 million. Estimates like these, however, differ vastly between organizations. But the reality is that there are large amounts of kids who are constantly fighting each other and the government, trying to survive day to day. Their options aren't exactly desirable, and even just trying to put myself into their shoes, and really actually imagine what they have to go through... makes me feel like a skinny guy (which I guess I am) in a cage match with Goliath (which would suck - that oke was hayooge.)

At the Passion conference in Atlanta this year, pioneered by Louis Giglio, they did a huge campaign to raise awareness for human slavery. At the end of one of their videos there was a slogan that read, "It's time to stop reading statistics and time to start changing them." The statistics that I've come across from Brazil really hit home with me. I do know that there are equally scary and horrific stats from places closer to home (we're in Africa, after all). But every child that is a slave to the street life has a heart longing for love. So it shouldn't matter where it is that we make a difference, as long as lives are being treated equal to their true value.

So what did I do this week to get closer to my dream? Well, I was kinda overwhelmed and intimidated at the attention my first blog post received, so I spent some time regretting how weak it was. I also pursued my visa a couple further steps with my friends at the ABBA house in Sao Paulo, and attempted joining organizations that help support missions like this.

Next, I'm going to take to the streets of Joburg. I've decided to give away the majority of my possessions rather than sell them. I figure this will get me face to face with the poor, and increase my capacity to love them. If not, I at least hope I can make a few beggars on the streets of Joburg smile, and get them clothed. It's easy to give and walk away, but to engage a conversation with someone undesirable could change my whole life. Or so I'm told.

*Shoves hand in the air* To the streets!

//edit: so there are problems with the e-mail button, and it's not sending to anyone who's subscribing. If you want the blog for now, send me a mail, and I'll add you to my list. :)