OK, I didn’t know what else to call this. I did spend most of the day by a river. Oh, and I DID dance.

I’m sure those of you who know me well don’t believe what I just said. This is not a matter of having anything against dance. To the contrary. I just can’t do it. I’ve tried; I can’t. … At least until today. More on that later. Back to the beginning.

The group celebrating outside my window last night was long gone when I crawled out of bed this morning. The day had dawned beautifully over the mountains. Our local contact arrived with fresh bread from the bakery and one of our team members had the amazing foresight to bring alone some packets of instant Starbuck’s.

Yeah, I know. That’s another contradiction, right? I don’t care that much for Starbuck’s, and instant coffee is against my religion. But today, it was brown gold!!! Sin against my religion never tasted better. There IS pleasure in sin. See? (just kidding)

We cleaned up as best as possible. Our rooms offered a choice between a western commode and a Middle Eastern squatty potty. I’m all for cultural identification but, just for the record, I opted for the commode on this one. Just in case you were wondering. Then, we straightened one of our three rooms to receive our expected guests.

Soon, they arrived. Our very special guest from last nightwas bringing some of his key leaders. Our guest is a very important and strategic CP’er. Sorry to be cryptic, but you can ask someone. He has the most amazing story. A couple of his people even arrived from a neighboring country that is not far from where we are. More would have come, but the tension is a bit elevated in the area due to the recent happenings in this part of the world.

(Even though I posted I KNEW that was going to happen just a few minutes ago, I couldn’t put it up yesterday because of no internet. So, with this I’m caught up. Sort of).

What a pleasure to sit together and share stories and introductions. Every one was special and inspiring. Those of you at KCBT need to know that your prayers, giving and even hard work are a part of what God is doing through these people and in this part of the world. My Latino brothers were especially moved by what they experienced and also contributed greatly to the meeting with their own stories and wisdom.

Our local contact and translator had to leave to catch a plane to India. Our K friends wanted very much for us to stay and share a picnic with them. Even though we had no translator, we knew this was a very special opportunity. Because of who these people are, they have been carefully protected from Western influences. Few Western believers have had the pleasure to just hang out with them. We did and we are so grateful.

The setting was a beautiful river right below our rooms. The bank is divided into little pavilion type structures that families or groups can rent. We were certainly not the only group on the river today.

First, let me say that the K’s dress to the 9′s for picnics. My! Were we ever under-dressed! Many of the men wore the unique K dress and others had jackets, some with ties. The ladies dressed in elegant, sequined dresses that were just fabulous. The kids were styling, too! They grill beef, chicken and lamb. Lots of lamb! Their flat breads are delicious. You scoop up the meats along with some veggies if desired. My Mexican brothers said all it lacked was salsa. They called it K-Mex food! K Tacos! The folks who came with the leaders we met with were both family and friends, probably about 60 or so, some believers, some not. Few spoke any English, but two or three knew a few words and were eager to learn some more.

Soon, a bus load of university English students arrived. Now that was a hoot! We were the celebrities of the day. Especially when they would speak to us in English and half of us could answer back in Spanish!

Now, you can’t have a K picnic without dancing. Against the law! The music cranked up and there we were. No way out. Unless you are married to the lady, guys dance with guys and gals with gals. This is somewhat of a stretch for Westerners, especially here where the common greeting, coming and going, between men is a warm kiss on the cheeks – both of them. I’m not talking “air kisses” here! Holding hands with a guy while dancing takes some getting used to. No, I’m not trying to confess anything! I’m just trying to be transparent.

There is no escape. You can tell that peace in the Middle East depends upon what is happening during this time. All eyes are upon us, and these are NOT the eyes of Texas, though a couple in our group happen to be from Texas.

What do you do? This is kind of like joining the Polar Bear Club. You know, where morons drill holes in the ice and jump into the freezing water on New Year’s Day. You just do it. You just jump in. There is no escape.

So … I did. Yeah. Me. I D-A-N-C-E-D. At least it felt like I was dancing. Sort of. I’m sure no one else thought it was much of a dance. They just come and grab you by the hand and you’re off. As in off my rocker! But I did. Dance.

Fortunately, K picnic dancing is not very elaborate or complicated. It mainly involves stepping forward and then backward while shrugging your shoulders up and down and stuff like that. Sometimes someone on the end is waving a hankie up and down, and sometimes someone cuts loose and does a little solo jig while everyone else laughs. Or, two or three guys break off from the conga line to kick their legs back and forth together.

I signed up to follow Jesus. I wasn’t aware this came in the package. I did survive, though. Yes, I can prove I did this. There are pictures and videos. And I thank God that the sensitivity of protecting my K friends prohibits me from posting any of them in any electronic media or any public forum – ever. Thank you, Sweet Jesus!

As I silently contemplated what my life has come to, we rented two taxis to go along with our rented 12-passenger bus (see yesterday) and drove back across the mountains to another location I cannot divulge to you.

We are not in a hotel tonight, but in a facility belonging to a company working in this area. It is quite nice and the people who live here are very accommodating. We enjoyed a wonderful dinner sitting on the floor Middle Eastern style and then heard some more amazing stories. One in particular blew us away, as a gentleman told how he came to be a follower of Jesus in this area where there are so very, very few. I would love to share where he came from and how this all came about, but sadly cannot. I can tell you that your prayers for this people are being answered in a powerful, dynamic and unmistakable way. Thank you!

By the second morning my ears are growing accustomed to the morning call to prayer. I’ve been in this part of the world before, of course, but I don’t think I have ever had the mosque’s loudspeaker attached to my ear as though it were BOSE headphones. I will say this – the singer at this particular mosque had a great voice and clear diction. Not that I could understand anything! The wakeup was welcomed this morning, as the hotel opened the breakfast room a bit early for us since we were leaving for the airport.

Flying east from Istanbul toward the neighboring country is an astounding trip! First, the snow-covered mountains of Turkey are spectacular! OK, I confess. My first thoughts are carnal, selfish and totally egocentric. Looking at those mountains I was thinking that this is the third year in a row that for one reason or another I have not been able to go skiing even once! I wonder if the Apostle Paul ever had thoughts like that. Well, at least not about alpine skiing. On a deeper layer of thought, I mulled over the record of human history that has been played out on the real estate passing 35,000 feet below me. Deeper stuff than the snow.

Mid-afternoon we landed in Erbil, or Irbil or Arbil. In case you did the Google earth thing I thought I’d help you out with some of the alternate spellings. Actually, the Kurdish name is Hewler or close to that if written in Latin script. Beyond that, I am not at liberty to tell you where we headed.

The airport here is new, very nice and up-to-date, as are many things in this boom city where construction cranes almost seem to outnumber the satellite dishes. I can’t believe the changes since I was here last a couple of years ago. Our rented bus couldn’t clear security to get to the pickup lanes by the airport, so we had to take the shuttle bus to the parking lot where it was waiting for us.

Let’s see … there are ten in our group and we ordered a 12 passenger bus.

Is that really our bus?

Several of us said that. Several times.

It was a very nice and clean bus. And it DID have 12 seats if you include the driver and places for three small children or any adults under three and half feet tall. Some of us are pretty good size boys. Oh, and did we forget to mention we might have luggage? That’s right NO luggage space in the bus, that is, if you want to use the seats.

There was a luggage rack on top. Hmmmm. Not much choice here because we’ll be driving for two or three hours. Tony climbed up on top and our driver came up with some – no, not rope, not really cord. To tell you the truth I’m not sure what it was. Kind of reminded me of that material that you weave on lawn chairs. I’m not sure I’d want to trust my fat butt to that material, let alone my luggage life-line for two weeks! We not only had luggage for ourselves but were bringing stuff for friends.

Once the bags had been stacked and looped and threaded and tied down as best as possible, we all stood back and contemplated that cute little doubt flirting around at gut level. We ARE people of faith after all, so we climbed about in order of age and size. There were some hints of grousing in the air, until the Latino delegation reminded everyone that if we were in Latin America there would still be room for another good ten or twelve people still!

Our bus driver speaks not of word of English, is a gentleman on the far side of 60 something and dresses in the traditional Kurdish baggy pants. He’s very nice, but we are trying to figure out what hand motions mean “Stop at the next 7-Evelen so we can get something to drink” in Kurdish. Somehow we got the message across and Mike and I am bopping into a little roadside store. Have I told you yet that Kurdish people are among the most hospitable and genuinely friendly people on the planet? Well, they are. We are going through both aisles of the little store snatching up snacks and armloads of soda cans – some recognizable, some not so much.

By this time neighbors are coming by to see the freak show and get their picture taken with us. We have no local currency, of course and don’t mention that until we have the equivalent of a day’s worth of trade in front of the register. Slapping down a $20, Mike steps back to let culture run its course. Neighboring store owners, assorted taxi drivers and a potential customer or two are all speaking at the same time to the shop owner, whipping out calculators and coming up with an acceptable currency exchange rate. Our second step of faith today. We got roughly $10 back and called it a very good day.

Off we went climbing into the hills. What stunning scenery! This is what Abraham might have seen when he took Sarah for a ride when they were teenagers.

Suddenly, scratch, slide, bump, bump, thud! I KNEW that was going to happen!

Beto’s suitcase is bouncing up and down on the asphalt. The driver quickly slows, I throw open the side door and jump out as he comes to a pause and begins to turn around. I am running down the highway trying to beat cars and especially trucks to the suitcase. Fortunately, they are all managing to dodge it. Arriving by the side of the accident victim, I found that the best part of this story is that the contents of suitcase were not strewn all over Ur of the Chaldees! The bad part is that with one more roll they would have been. Ur is still a ways south of here, but you get the idea.

Ever the nice guy, Beto said that he didn’t really want to take that suitcase anyway but his wife insisted. He thinks she might have prayed for something like this so he would buy her a new one. Not to worry! Beto has a cloth fold-up inside that he pulls out and piles everything right in. Others have been redoing the whatever-it-is long, skinny stuff that is supposed to hold the remaining cases in place.

We did make it the rest of the way without further incident. Winding down mountain road switchbacks, we pulled into the small, isolated city of our destination. The setting is beautiful, but Western tourism has yet to arrive. You’ve heard of Motel 6? Well, this was about a Motel 2. Not bad; we lugged the luggage into the lobby. Mike was trying to communicate with the manager on duty, or owner, or maybe just some guy who was in the lobby to ask where the ice machine was or change a bill for coins for the Coke Machine. Unfortunately, the guy spoke only two words in English – “Ten minutes.” From that we concluded that something would happen in ten minutes, but we weren’t sure what that would be. We were hoping that he didn’t really mean 50 minutes but could only count to ten in English.

Turns out that in ten minutes our local contact arrived, the one who made the reservation, to tell us that the bus dropped us off at the wrong hotel. OUR hotel was about 100, no make that about 500 yards back up the road. No problem! Roll ‘em!! Glad my little case has wheels!

Let’s see, make this about a Motel -3. Clean, spacious room, no towels, tp or drinking water. No, it’s not that they forgot to put them out. … That’s fine. I’ve been here before in a former life in Latin America. I add these details for those of you who think I live this glamorous life of waiting limousines whisking me off to Four Seasons Hotels in exotic spots on the world’s beaches.

You may have guessed – no wifi. That’s fine, but some of us were about to have a mental meltdown not being able to charge cell phones. Cell phone service is great, by the way. And, they did turn on the electricity for us. Yes, you read that right. The problem is that they use a funky plug in this area, and I forgot to carry my James Bond, one-size-fits-all plug kit. The crisis was averted, however, when I figured out how to hack the receptacle with a Q-tip and a Continental plug.

It is fairly quiet as compared to Istanbul, except that right outside my window is, not a mosque, but the spot where everyone converges to sit and smoke those water pipe thingys with the long hose-like pipes. Know what I mean? No? Geeze! When was the last time you walked around Westport! Anyway, they sit and talk and laugh and make a bunch of noise. They do this while the band takes a break and those who have been pounding on the drums rest their hands. Supposedly, this serves all kinds of social functions and needs in those parts of the world where one can’t watch Oprah. It really was fun to watch and listen – for a while.

After dinner we had gathered in one of the spacious rooms (really) and were joined by a very special visitor. He is the reason we are here. I had met him previously in circumstances I cannot relate to you. I was so anxious for those who had not met him to be able to just be in his presence and be blessed. Through a translator, he began to share his heart and tell the story of his journey and some of the incredible things that God is doing through his life in this part of the world. Despite being tired, a hush fell over the room and we all knew we were in the presence of a very, very special individual. Eyes were moistening up and lumps formed in throats.

I KNEW that was going to happen.

“Hey, Tony! What time should I set the alarm?”

That’s what I remember saying sometime last night before losing consciousness. I slipped off into jet-lagged-induced slumber, not even really noticing the occasional barking dog or noise on the cobblestones street below.

What was I thinking!!! I should have known better. We don’t need no stinkin’ alarm! We are in a country with a national built-in alarm system.

It was 0545 when the wakeup call went out … I did. Wake up, that is. Not much choice. Anyone have an image of basic training? Then, at precisely 0600 both the voice and volume are ratcheted up several notches as the strong male voice warbles out the call to prayer. I mean this with all due respect, but to a Westerner not accustomed to the culture it sounds somewhat like a combination of an opera singer and a hound dog with scurvy.  Not really sure what that might sound like, but I’m thinking that has to be similar. Whatever it sounds like, it is magnified to level of the adolescent urban land yacht that often drives down my street at home with the bass cranked up so loud it rattles dishes in a thunderstorm.

So what did I do? I laid there and prayed! Very effective.

When it started, I kept thinking I was actually inside the mosque. No, I really did. It was kind of like having a tornado warning siren go off right into my hearing aid turned up full. Then, I could hear the echo from a thousand other mosques within ear shot (the ear is now shot!) in this country with more mosques than schools or hospitals.

The sun coming up, I looked out the open window to discover the reason. The mosque is right across the cobblestone street from our second story room window, a cobblestone street so narrow only one small vehicle can pass at a time and I can almost reach across the street to touch the loudspeaker aimed directly at our window.  No, in answer to your question we did not have to pay extra for this amenity. Pretty cool, huh?

Needless to say, Tony and I were the first to report for breakfast on the wonderful rooftop terrace. Good food, better view. We looked out across the water and watched the early morning boat and ship traffic pass by. Other team members straggled in and we soon had a quorum and also a majority in the breakfast area. Very quaint, fascinating little boutique hotel in the Medieval part of this city of somewhere over 12 million, give or take a few.

This day was given to contacts with friends. As we were finishing up breakfast, our buddy Jake arrived. So good to see him! Many of you in KC will remember him and Ersin from our conference the year before last. We moved to the outside part of the terrace and had a super time of just chatting about anything and everything, plus a little orientation for the newbies to the region.

Afterward it was a short walk down from the hotel to the amazing Blue Mosque and the even more amazing Hagia Sophia across the way. Alberto and a couple of others  ran across to take some pics inside the Hagia Sophia for his art history professor sister. She really needs to see this for herself! I had never been inside the Blue Mosque and that’s what Jacob, Tony, I and some others did. Coming out and just having put my shoes back on, a guy comes up from behind me and begins to hassle me. I turn around and it’s Ersin!!! I wasn’t expecting that and was afraid I might not get to see him this trip. Wow! He has a K brother with him, and that was an added blessing.

The Gringos were going to hang out with Jacob for some touristy stuff while our Latino delegation hurried down to the water to catch a ferry across to the Asian side to meet our Central American Guate Bro who has been working here for 15 years. As an added bonus, his wife was with him waiting for us on the other side. I had not been able to meet her the last time I was here and it was good to get to know her.

One of the truly neat things about technology is being able to text someone from a ferry in Instanbul to text something like, “Yes, we r really on this ferry docking. OMG! Is that u to the right? LOL! C u soon.” Actually that came in handy on both ferry rides we took today.

With our friends, we walked around a couple of corners to meet up with a couple who are natives to this beautiful city and are now working with our Latino folks. Off to a lunch spot where we sat and talked for a couple of wonderful hours about all that is going on with them.

The Gringos did not do the tourist thing after all. They were really OK with that. Jacob had just lost a friend to cancer and the burial was this afternoon. They decided to accompany Jacob to the funeral and get a first row seat for some cultural lessons. Mission accomplished!

Meanwhile, at 15:00 hours our group was to meet a Spaniard who has been here for 27 years and has the first and only officially recognized and approved assembly in the entire country. Tony and I know him from several connections and have been in their building before.

Then, we got a text that he wouldn’t be able to make to our pre-arranged meeting until 16:30 or 17:00 because a friend of his had died and he was participating in the burial. Yep! You guessed it. Same guy. This is a city of over 12 millions. You do the odds. So, we were forced to sit down for some coffee and more good conversation.

Just when we could wait no longer, our Spanish friend arrived! We exchanged greetings and took a very quick tour of their facility before we had to head back toward the dock and a ferry to a different destination where we would meet up with Jake and everyone else for dinner. As we sailed down the water, night was falling and the sight was beautiful. It was very interesting, because on the way the two naval warships this nation had just approved to help deal with the crisis in Libya sailed by in the opposite direction, troops at attention on deck. Amazing!

By the time we finished dinner and commandeered taxis for all, a small contingency of four of us stayed behind to make sure that a local Starbuck’s was measuring up to quality control standards. Finding no obvious problems, we proceeded to try to upload a couple of videos on the wifi that we could never do on the slow hotel network. Then we spent the next hour in a taxi trying to find our hotel.

I am saying that to let you know that it is late and my alarm is already set for early tomorrow morning. We leave the hotel at 0730 to head to the neighboring country to the east. I’ll let you know how it goes, but first we are headed to a remote area for a retreat time where I’ll have a chance to do some teaching on leadership to a group of leaders. I won’t say all that much, because I really think I will have more to learn from them than them from me.

I’m not counting on being connected to world.wide.web or even the little.local.link. I’ll give you more when I can. Yawn! 0545 will come quickly.

Istanbul Express

We pulled the big switcheroo Sunday in third service. One song and I preached. Have always thought it would be fun to do that to catch those who never make it in time for the worship. We weren’t trying to be cute; it’s just that I had catch a flight to Istanbul and the only way to make it to the airport in time was to do what we did. That was kind of fun. I also appreciate the corporate prayer for me just before I ran out the door. Thanks!

For those who like to do this stuff vicariously through yours truly, I offer to you the Diary of the Istanbul Express – someday to be made into a YouTube video hoping for 37 hits. I will use creative language as I go along and would ask you to do the same in any comments or FB posting. Please! We don’t mind a bit of suffering, but there’s no sense in harming someone’s effectiveness when you don’t have to do so.

I had no problem making my flight, but I sure didn’t have any margin. The flight to Houston lifted up into the air on schedule. Yes, Houston. For the geographically challenged, this was not necessarily a straight line flight to say the least!

As I was still waddling down the gangplank getting off in Houston, I pullout my Android to check the KU score. Suddenly, I was cured of self-pity that I didn’t get to watch the game since I was flying. Got over that real quick!

In Houston I was meeting two Mexican buddies, both members of our little alliance to be friends of the K people. One of them arrived a couple of hours ahead of me and the other was still an hour away. I went to the terminal where our next flight was scheduled to see if I could find him waiting in the gate area. Actually, he had stationed himself to spot me. Very smart.  I didn’t even see him until he shouted at me. Great! Now Ricardo the Chilango  and I were together. He had traveled with me to north Africa and Europe a couple of years ago and was excited to be going again on a Jeff adventure again.

We pulled in so I could grab a nourishing lunch of cheese and crackers and then headed toward the gate to see if we could find Alberto from Monterrey. There he was! filling up at the pizza joint by our gate. Our flight loaded and took off for Frankfurt right on time. Great! But, why does the big guy with a 60 inch chest have to sit in the middle seat next to me? My body feels like a toothpaste tube that someone is smashing to get the last little bit of toothpaste out. Oh well! It’s only a little less than ten hours to go to Frankfurt! I choose to be cool and happy and get some sleep anyway.

I’m still wondering about Beto, my economist friend from Lima who left the day before. I was being copied on emails by all sorts of our team people who said that the guy who was to pick him up in Istanbul reported he wasn’t on the flight. He was standing by for the next flight to see what would happen.

All cuddled-up with the Teddy Bear in 16B, I closed my eyes, titled my body to the right and fell asleep. I really did! After speaking at three services, I had not had my normal nap, so this was good. When I came to semi-consciousness, we were just about to head into European airspace. Touching down on schedule in Frankfort around 11:30am, we didn’t have much layover time to get to our next gate for the Lufthansa flight to Istanbul.

Checking my mail as we got off, I learned that Beto had appeared. He had flown Lima-Miami and his Miami flight was delayed – that caused him to miss his New York to London flight. But they got him on a flight an hour and a half later – that caused him to miss his London to Istanbul flight – but they got him on a … travel is great! Right? My long-time Salvadoran buddy Tony was to arrive from DC to Istanbul just about 25 minutes before us. Mike, our team facilitator and a few other Gringo type guys had arrived (we hoped) early in the morning. Ya know, if we all get together at one point, this will really be good. And, if all our bags all make it we will for sure know that there is a God in Heaven!

We’re walking through the corridor in Frankfurt and Ricardo says to me (he cracks me up!), “I thought Germans were supposed to be sort of grumpy, direct and demanding, but so far they’ve all been very nice.”

Dude! You’ve been in Germany for all of 15 minutes and had an interaction with maybe three Germans for less than 30 seconds each and you’re already an expert on German culture??

Isn’t that what we all do, though? We meet a couple of people for a brief time and already start to form stereotypes in our minds. Ricardo is really cool. Chalk in up to jet lag insanity. Well, the German Lufthansa crew continued to be nice all the way to Istanbul, served us up a pretty decent little meal and we were there – only about two-and-a-half hours later.

Just clearing the jetway I get a text from Mike. “Turn right leaving customs and I’m at Gloria Jean’s on your right.”

Prayer lives verified by arrived luggage, we collect ourselves and head out to Gloria Jean’s. There are Tony and Mike right according to script. Beto was picked up by Brian, a Jacob team member and taken to a home to rest up a bit.

The shuttle bus ride to the hotel is about 20 minutes in normal traffic. Looking out the window I am reminded how gorgeous and exotic this city is! Mind-boggling! Then, I enjoy watching Alberto and Ricardo smashed up against the windows taking every picture they can. Our home tonight is nestled in a very cool little historic area within walking distance of the Blue Mosque (Google it). By this time the entire team has come together in one spot in the hotel lobby. Thank you, Jesus!

We drop our stuff and head a couple of blocks down the narrow cobble stone paths to a quaint little restaurant for some Mediterranean food. Good stuff! We sit around the table forever solving all the problems in the world. Well, most of them. If we missed yours, we’ll try to pick it up tomorrow.

So, here we are back at the hotel and ready for some sleep. Up early in the morning for breakfast. Beto and Jacob are coming over, we’ll do a bit of orientation and probably walk down to check out the Blue Mosque for those who have not seen. Then, the Gringos go their way for a city tour and those of us in the Latino constituency take a ferry across the river to the Asian side to meet a Central American friend who has lived here many years. Yes, I said the Asian side. In Kansas City we complain about being divided by a state line. Istanbul is a city that straddles two continents. Very interesting!

I’ll get back with you when I can, but now you know where in the world I am.