When traveling in some of the places I go where the gospel light is not very bright, I try to keep my posts light, funky, weird or whatever to give you a bit of the flavor for what I am experiencing. I tell you some of the things I experience without divulging the names of those with whom we interact, specifically what they do and most of the time not even telling you our specific location. That I try to have fun giving you updates does not mean that everything we are doing is light and airy. I leave it to you to read between the lines as best you can.

This cryptic type of writing is not because I or the people traveling with me are fearful of having something happen to us. Nor is it because of the people with whom we interact are fearful. Speaking for them, they knew what they were getting into when they signed up, locals or ex-pats. My concern is to do nothing that would hinder them from completing their mission or unnecessarily complicating things for them.

A few years ago I was asked to pray for a military unit upon their deployment. The chaplain that day said something that struck me. He said when people pray for them, they normally pray for their safety. The chaplain said they certainly appreciated that, but they knew what they signed up for and they are prepared not to come back. The real prayer requests are two. First, that they would complete their mission. Second, that they would do so with honor. This is the spirit in which I write these reports.

This morning we met briefly with the CPers adn they announced to us that our plans had once again changed a bit. As I said yesterday, this is par for the course. Things have changed even since we have been here. You are aware that tensions are elevated in this part of the world and, though we are in a relatively peaceful area, we are not exempt. Reprisals here do not come from the government but from others. The government gets involved when it seems that someone is adding to the tensions and divisions that already exist.

We loaded onto a small bus with a couple of the CPers and headed for a tour that would take us within sight of two borders. The idea was to be able to see a few areas where they are working and so that in the privacy of the bus they could give us an idea of what they do. It was not possible to even into into those areas, but it was a great time to be with them and hear their reports.

One of the Cpers had asked a couple of us to accompany him to meet with a VIP to give some clout to their efforts and to give assurances that we are doing work for the benefit of the entire community. A brief stop at a border town revealed that is we continued at the present pace we would be late for the date. So, the few of us involved in the meeting grabbed a taxi and headed back to the principal city. We believe that the meeting went well. Thanks to those of you who took action upon my prayer request tweet.

This evening, the newbies in the group are at a local assembly, an older established traditional work. There ARE a few assemblies in this area, but they are among the minority  groups, not the majority group. Our CPers are from these assemblies. None of them are members of the majority group because there are no believing leaders yet among the majority group. None.

In the morning we hit the road for 2 or 3 hours to the airport and our flight back to Istanbul. Hopefully I will have better internet access there. Thanks for your prayers.

I can finally tell you where we are. We are on the other side of Northern Iraq. That’s a lot of information, right? For the safety of those we visited, I did not divulge where we were previously and maintain that policy here. Most of the day was spent getting here traveling across northern Iraq by vans. Here are some highlights.

Our vans and drivers arrived this morning right on schedule after breakfast. I won’t tell you the route we took, but the drive to our current city took about five-and-a-half hours, not counting a lunch break in a major city at Texas Chicken run by a Lebanese guy. People always chuckle when they travel to other countries and see restaurants or other businesses that are obviously a rip off of some part of Americana, but I have to tell you that Texas Chicken was pretty tasty. I had the Mexican combo. Go figure. The two Mexicans turned up their noses at the thought of such a thing and played safe with chicken tenders. I can’t blame them. That’s like an American passing on a “genuine American hamburger” in Botswana or something like that. One of you who has actually eaten such a thing in Botswana will probably write me that it was great, but you know what I’m trying to say here.

Right after that we patronized another Lebanese establishment called Bakery and More for some sweets and coffee for dessert. Score two for Lebanon!

Does it seem like I talk about food too much on this blog. Stop! Don’t answer! That’s like a guy trying to answer his wife who says, “Does this dress make me look too fat?” There is no answer for that question. Just come down with a coughing fit, or knock something off the table to divert attention. Do ANYTHING to not answer that question.

Off across Iraq in TWO very nice, fairly new 12 passenger vans. We learned our lesson the first time and now we had room for both our luggage and ourselves. Man! We are really smart! We divided ourselves into an English speaking van and a Spanish speaking van. Made no difference to our drivers who spoke neither English or Spanish.

What was fun was for our van to get waved through military checkpoints since all of us in the Spanish speaking van looked like we belong here. The van with all the white faces got their passports checked more than we did.

Only one slight problem. Our van had two large containers of diesel fuel in case we ran out. That’s good. The bad part is that they were on the inside with us and smelled like, well … diesel fuel. Ugh! That meant we had to run with the windows open and the air conditioning off. Not the way you want to cross the desert. Arriving in Duhok we were tired, headachey, covered with dust and hot. But, let it be known that we didn’t run out of gas.

Stayed at this hotel last time. Nice enough joint and conveniently located for our purposes. Our CPers were waiting in the lobby. Wow! It was great to see them! There are the guys we work with directly through our alliance of churches.

There has been a slight change of plans.

That’s a phrase you hear frequently on any trip like this. No problem. Everyone else was staying at the hotel until diner at 1900 hours and Pastor Bill from Texas and I would just drop our bags in the room and go with the CPers to another location so we could talk freely with them and do a little training.

What a great group of guys. They shared some of the challenges they are facing recently and I reviewed with them the chapter contents of my book Searching for Truth that they were working on translating. The interaction was good natured, very interactive and conversational. I loved it! I also loved the amazing, probing questions they asked about scripture. Later with all the group we enjoyed dinner together and just hanging out.

There is so much I would love to tell you. You already know that I cannot use this forum to do that. I want to tell you their stories and all that is happening in their lives right now. For you at KCBT, I’ll be able to do a limited amount of download in the next couple of weeks after my return. I can just tell you that you would be thrilled to see how God is answering your prayers for the K people in this is area. The news is not all positive, but even the negative is indication that God is at work.

Due to an unexpected schedule change, we had a day somewhat open and much appreciated. We have been going very fast and heard up to this point.

Las night we arrived at a facility belonging to a company that does a great deal of good for people. We are being treated like kings! I can tell you that we are in a rather isolated spot in an area that K’s would perhaps call the wild, wild West. Now, imagine this! In this remote place I have discovered that I know the father of our host, and that his sister is married to a Venezuelan who arrived today in Costa Rica and is a very good friend of the one we call our Costa Rican daughter, not the other Costa Rican daughter who works for me. Got that?

We got a bit of a late start this morning with a wonderful breakfast followed by a tour of the facility here. It is truly incredible. So much potential! After that, we drove to an ancient citadel in the neighboring city that is one of several claiming to be the oldest continuously inhabited city on earth. Anyway, you can bet it’s old! From the top of the citadel there is a great view of the city and also of the hills from where the armies of the previous regime bombarded this city continually for over ten years. These people spent over a decade in Hell. Sadly, there are maybe 4 or 5 known Jesus followers in the entire city, leaving most to have nothing more to hope for than what they have now – not much. We spent some time praying over the city, literally, in three languages.

Having an afternoon free, I knew what I wanted to do if at all possible. Thankfully it was! The office director of the facility drove us to Salaimaniya, cultural center of the K’s. I was so excited! Most of my K friends back home in Kansas City are from this city. I can hardly wait to tell them that I was there.

Our driver and guide is himself a K and from this city. On the trip he shared his story of how he came to faith and was transformed. Very cool stuff! On my previous visit to this country I met the man who was able to lead him to faith.

We loved the city! Only the Latin American delegation made this trip along with Marty from Atlanta who was brave enough to think he could handle us. He could, and he did, and we were very happy to have him with us. We stopped for the very special tea that our driver said he can hardly ever find anywhere else in the country. Then, we walked down to the main square where a demonstration was going on and Pesh Merga soldiers were a heavy presence. All of us who have lived in Latin America felt right at home! It really is amazing how much the two cultures have in common, despite obvious differences.

We went to the market that could also be set in any Latin America country. There our Mexicans and the Peruvian purchased K head dress. The shop owner and another K man showed them how to wind it around their heads. It was very neat to see the finished product. Not quite as ridiculous as me dancing, but close.

The really funny thing is that they got the head dresses to go. They didn’t take them off. So we go walking through a sea of K people with the Mexi-Peruvian dudes  in their blue jeans, sneakers, polo shirts and K head dress. They drew quite a bit of attention from startled onlookers. Real K men would never think of wearing this unless they also had on the traditional baggy pants and matching jacket. Our guys kept telling themselves that they were setting a style and couldn’t wait to come back in a couple of years to see many others doing the same.

In the square, many turned their attention from the protesters to the visitors in the Mexi-K wrapped heads. We stopped for some pictures. Me – I wanted a picture for my K friends back home to prove I was here. That didn’t take long. Then, the guys with the cloth crowns wanted their picture taken. As we lined up with them, other K men started joining the huddle. One older man pulled up alongside and interlocked arms with one of our guys and posed for the cameras. Next, some of them were wanting their picture taken with us using their own cell phone cameras. OK, time to go before we start signing autographs!

From there we drove to the top of a large mountain that overlooks the city. Along the way it is impossible to see the myriad constructions projects, new, nice cars and other signs of a booming economy in an areas that was once almost wiped clean not that many years ago.

Today was Friday – Middle Eastern Sunday. That meant that all along the way to the top of the mountain, families and groups were enjoying a picnic. EVERYWHERE! The sun was bright and the reflection from the thousands of glitter and sequin covered dresses was stunning. Google K dress and see what I’m talking about. NO, Silly! Don’t type in K dress and then email me asking why it didn’t work. Type in the whole word that K represents. People really do stuff like that and write me.

At the top, we again stopped for a brief prayer meeting in the same three languages. The view is breath-taking; the need is great.

Back at the ranch, our hosts had prepared our very own picnic with a cook out on the grill. Yummy!!! It was fun to be outside and to meet some other workers from nearby places. God has special people in special places for sure! All day, in spite of being an “off day,” all sorts of kingdom conversations took place and we interacted with the cast of key players assembled here.

The reason for brining our brothers from Latin America was for them to be exposed to an area unfamiliar to them so they can lead their churches in moving forward in the project to reflect God’s glory among the K people. They have been deeply moved and their heads are awash with creative ideas. We could leave now and say mission accomplished.

We wanted to watch the movie Turtles Can Fly, and our hostess had started downloading it from the Internet. However, a slow connection changed our plans. By the way, if you would really like to get a better feel for this place and the soul of its people and the suffering they have endured, get the flick. Turtles Can Fly. It is a great movie and completely an Iraq/Iran production. It was filmed on location where we will be tomorrow. All the actors are K amateurs.

A very special K friend in Kansas City actually lived the scene that forms the backdrop for the story. She assures me that this is truly the way it was, except for the satellite dish that plays a key role and is the namesake of the star. It is in K language with subtitles in English. You will both laugh and cry and it will take you by surprise. Very engaging!

It’s late and we get up early tomorrow to head to the other side of the country. I’ll check in later as I can.

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.