The Rabbi

Prolonged Silence

Many days and many hours I've committed my mind to writing this next blog post. But everytime i sit down and bang on these keys I am overwhelmed by the confusion.

I want these post to not just contain the facts of my latest journey, or what exotic animals I saw today, but to instead give clarity and logic of why the developed world and the third world are in 2 different dimensions. I want the post to contain thoughts of hope and visions of change.

I just can't do it though. I can't make sense of it all. I can't put the variables into the equation to get solution to the problem.

There are great stories of hope. They are the gift from God that help me survive to the next day. Most come from the Gospel-Embodying Edward Simiyu.

When I resort to writing though, things get so hard. Things get so complicated. I journal and journal hoping to come to somewhat of a conclusion, I hope that structuring sentences in Microsoft Word will revive the pressure of uncomfort my experiences cause, but it only seems to pump more uncertainty into me.

So this is the reason.
The reason I've left you subscribers with nothing to reader from this struggling 21 year old.

The rain doesn't always fall like it is now. I can't count the endless periods of sunshine. But when i enter into essay mode, I go to the wrestling mat with the great evils of this world. And it seems that my but always gets kicked.

So I just have to escape, and where better to do that than Simba Village(refer to the Simba Post for that sunny day I was referring to).

This is where you prayer participators and encouragement donors bring remedy.

I will do a better job of updating this thing though. I'm confident that the sun will rise and this sorrowful message will be followed by one of intense serenity.

The Kingdom is here. And the Kingdom is coming.
Love is here. But Love is coming. Help Bring those.

benya

On the Road Again (if you really want to give them the credit of that name)

And just when I thought I’d be a better blogger again and post more often. I’m heading out for Ngong/West Pokot/Kitale and actually head to a mission conference thing today,
so it will be another week and a half before I see Nairobi.

Monday I once again get to experience Heaven on Earth when I go back to Simba Village. That time should be nothing short of amazing. Then Thursday it’s back up to the Jamba Juice of Kenya and I’ll get to maybe have that Pokotian smoothie.

Today I leave to join the evangelism team on a “Soul Winning, Healing Performing Crusade.” Hmm. How’s that for a fall break? The guy who’s always a skeptic is of corse a bit skeptical, but I’m really hoping to see some beautiful things, even if they shake up this etch-a-sketch that have all my theological beliefs. If you’re into that prayer thing, have at it. This is Africa though, and this is the third world. I think this different world may spin a little differently, and maybe many of the rules that we think hold everything together don’t exists in this different world.

The past few weeks I’ve interviewed about 50 men and women who have HIV. That experience in and of itself is about a 5 page adventure so I’ll spare you all for the time being.

Get ready for some change though. So much change has happened in me, I’m sure that a bit of it resonates off of me. This is looking evil in the eye. This is breathing in poverty and evil. These are the stories that make atheists, atheists. At the same time though these are the stories that give you no other option, no other way to live than the way of Jesus, the way that truly changes the world.

The coffee hasn’t brewed on that one though yet. If you got past the first line of the last post, the fruit for this hasn’t yet ripened in me yet.

That one requires an intense heart breaking on the spot, and I have too much of a day to live with a bleeding heart.

May you Baylor champions fall break and break well.
-benjamiah

Thanks Carne Dawg For Righting Me to Write

You might want to skip this post if you’re looking for the latest Benya headlines and what’s going on in the outside world around me. Most of these thoughts come from the internal psychological safari that I’ve been on for as long as I can remember.

If for some odd reason you’ve been reading this blog and haven’t ventured onto the UBC website there provided by ←THAT link there, I grieve for you (an exaggeration of course, but I do hope that I can grieve because our world has TOO MANY links, i.e. we are oppressed by the immense number of decisions we have to make because there are TOO MANY choices…again in another post, not this one).

If you’ve neglected the left side of this page though you are truly missing out on an incredible benefit to this life of yours. If you click UBC and navigate through to the sermons page the book of your life can open to a whole new chapter. You can have the beautiful opportunity to hear all that is Josh Carney, the new teaching pastor at UBC.

I glorify that man right now because he is the reason I write right now. I just listened to the latest sermon at UBC (which is so creatively titled “Parents Weekend”, that is almost as creative as another UBC great, David Crowder Band). To expand on that, I’m quite disappointed in that title Benjamin Dudley. I thought it was quite a brilliant masterpiece, yet the Podcast title isn’t even grammatically correct.

I write right now, even though I’m to wake up in 2 hours to go feed street children addicted to a drug with Boniface, followed by a full day where I go for a evangelism conference and am to preach tomorrow afternoon, because I was just inspired by my community. Through his fast paced, engaging, heart-wrenching, inspiring, table turning Zion song of a sermon he preached, I decided to sing a song right now, even though I probably won’t sleep until another 24 hours.

I think that through his sermon, I got to know myself a little bit better. I think that through his sermon, I learned more about the song that I sing that brings me to my Creator. I think that through his sermon, and I learned that I was different, I learned that I do things differently, but that’s ok and that I can make it following this Teacher of ours(by doing things differently, run on sentences is included).

I’m writing this right now because I think I’m a 150%-50% person. I waste a whole lot of time. A lot of times, I only run at 50%. I don’t know if it’s a lack of discipline or if its just another few good months and years of maturing that I have to do. I think that sometimes that I just kind of kick back and take the trolley of life until the next big adventure comes up. And if there’s work to be done, I’ll wait until my spirit is adventurous enough to do it.
But the other half of my time (making this description numerically equal) of the time I’m 150%. I’m extremely efficient, productive and in my element. I can work no matter the hour, for example now, its 2:30 a.m. and I’ve been up 20 hours. Of course this writing could all be rambling rubbish, but I think I’m getting something out of pounding these keys.

So many times I compare myself to others and get down on myself because I just don’t feel productive. I just don’t feel like I’m making good use of my time and don’t feel like I’m squeezing all the juice out my fruitful life. Maybe though, I don’t produce through a slow moving juicer that’s slowly squeezing a multitude of fruits. But maybe I release my nectar all at once, after I’m fully ripened, like the handheld juicers.

I’m sure there are many more dimensions to my situation. I just found shalom though this moment where Holy Zion resounds off these lips.

So that is why, if you’ve made it this far in this latest long-windedness, these blogs probably come sporadically and always exceed 1000 words. The time in between I’m just trying to get a big breath in again because I’ve already breathed the rest out. I do hope though that my lungs learn to fill a little faster. My spells of idle productivity can be a bit depressing.

We could probably pull out our Africa card at this point. It’s about time to start applying these ideas to the giant continent of mystery I currently reside on. Perhaps when we come to Africa to “fix” things we should learn that cultures are different. And we should embrace the fact that their way of doing things is just as beautiful as our way of doing things. They make take longer to do a certain task, but that doesn’t mean the juice they’re producing isn’t as sweet. What if we started to embrace cultures that a different than ours, instead of trying to replace it with our own conquering culture. Maybe our culture and out system of beliefs isn’t any more right than theirs is. I see the negative effects of where this mentality was present many times in the spectrum of Church.
HIV is engulfing this nation as well as this continent. Poverty is unbelievable. For every one person that I meet that makes more than 4 or 5 dollars a day I meet 30 people who make less than a dollar a day. But where is the church in all of this? The church addresses personal sin and personal redemption which is great, but what about these social issues. What about this: Woe to you teachers of the law and Pharisees, you hypocrites! You give a tenth of your spices—mint, dill, and cumin. But you have neglected the more important matters of the law—justice, mercy, and faithfulness. You should have practiced the latter, without neglecting the former. You blind guides! You strain out a gnat but swallow a camel (Matthew 23:23). (If the Carne Dawg has really inspired you to sermonize check out Rob Bell from Mars Hill Bible Church’s latest sermon Gnats and Camels. He’ll explain it all for ya.)
Now remember, I’m a searching wrestling 21 year old so really, I don’t know that much; i.e. don’t take this with just a grain of salt, but a whole tin of it. When I look at how some of the traditional African customs are lived out I see something that closely correlates with teachings of Jesus. There are no orphans or widows who are left to fend for themselves. Sure many of the violent traditions are evil, but so many of their traditions are so good. Social issues are on the forefront in African culture, but now I see in many churches they aren’t even talked about at all. City Harvest is surely an exception. But I’ve interviewed about 50 men and women who are HIV+ and maybe 3 or 4 have told their church bodies. Something is seriously wrong here. Where did such teachings come from?


I also write right now, because I just simply have a great desire to. I knew a few sentences of a few paragraphs, but when I sat down and typed, much wiser wisdom (except for the wisdom of better word choice obviously) filled all the holes in between my thoughts. Something was created in this practice of writing. Sure the crop may not be that enriched, but I’m at least starting to practice the farming of written ideas. This inspiration came from the knowledge and wisdom that Parents Weekend was packed with. These brilliant ideas and theories presented and I just had to be a part of that process. Sure none of the ideas on this page are at all very revolutionary or are anything new, but I just wanted to participate in something like that. The scholars mentioned didn’t just learn A then learn B and AB came out. These scholars studied and studied, but creation didn’t take place until they processed their learning, deconstructed and constructed the puzzle pieces of different ideas, and C was a result of idea A and idea B.

So I’m going to sing this Zion song with hopes that it fits a somewhat adequate model of worship. I’m going embrace the talents I’ve been given, but not compare and desire other people’s talents or how they do things.

Thanks Carne Dawg, for picking up your music pick, and guiding me and directing me to sing this song.

Finalionly

That has got to be the worst blog entry title ever. But it works because I have been the worst blogger ever these past 2 weeks. I apologize to all my fans, so sorry Mom, Dad, Mimi and Poppi.

These past 2 weeks have been all over the place there have been great top ten all Kenyan days and there have been days where I’ve felt like a worthless piece of slum garbage. Which I think is good. I’m living life and not on vacation anymore. I’m experiencing everyday struggles and joys. I’m no longer seeing Kenya through the O MY GUI (gui is the Kukuyu word for god) I’m in Kenya!!! I’ve take those lenses out of my eyes that caust the giddiness. This is a good thing. A really good thing in fact. I’m living here now and not just staying here. I think I’m understand how small world is. I think I’m finding out that you can find home just about anywhere on earth (I say this with a cell phone and internet access.

I think though, that since I’m living here and not just here to see the animals (a blogpost soon to come) these experiences are becoming a part of who I am. This life has started to molecularly attach itself to me. It’s more than having a memory or and experience; its much like having a brother or sister (since I know EXACTLY what that’s like). But when you grow older and maybe separate from that sibling, I’m sure there is a deep feeling that part of you is missing. You have more than just childhood memories, but you are physically, emortionally and spiritually a part of you (ok the physically is where you have to stretch it a bit, unless of course you’re Siamese.) So…here’s to you Kenya, brother…or sister.
Here’s a better analogy where I actually know what I’m talking about. Think about a close friend, which for me are my siblings. In college, the group of friends that you make becomes a part of you. They live in you. You have more than memories of throwing tortillas off the Suspension bridge into the Brazos, or watching a lightning storm at the highest point in Waco in Cameron Park, or when you were one time dancing with a friend in San Antonio and pulled a neck muscle; but instead these people become a part of your soul.
I feel a bit of emptiness being separated from my family and friends because they are engrained in me. The same relationship is being developed though with this country and its people. Its becoming more than just memories of blood drinking warriors or mothers of 5 that are HIV+, but Kenya is starting to intertwine with my DNA.
I don’t know if there is a formula or time period for this complex to take place. Maybe if I was as intune with humanity as I was created to be I this connection would develop with every human I came in contact with and every place I traveled to. Maybe these things should become a part of our souls.

But what do I know. I’m just a crazy 21-year-old (as of Tuesday) who took 3 months and a semester off to go see what this Africa/land full of beauty/land full of oppression is all about.

But now,
Onto Simba…(The Simba Village Orphanage for those out of the loop)
2 weeks after I’ve gotten back. It was the thesis behind the lame blog title.

That place is love. Simple as that. I’m determined that Heaven will be very much like that (another preview of an upcoming blog)(whoa, can you even do back to back parenthesizes, this kid must have not been in school for the past 6 months; for all the brains behind this upcoming blog and concept, check out Wine and Heaven, a sermon by Rob Bell…google it or buy it at marshill.org.)
Anyways, back from the ridiculous ride on the mechanics of my brain pattern…Simba was refreshing. Many of the previous posts were a bit somber just because of the sights I was seeing. But Simba was the boost of simple love and simple joy.

UBC, I’m madly in love with you. Thank you for introducing me to Simba, thank you for discovering Simba. Thanks for discovering Heaven on Earth.

I can’t do this. I can’t articulate the feeling of love I felt that radiated off of the kids. I think and many of my experiences of God’s love have come through people. God did bless humans so he could bless others. God did pick humans to be his source of change in the world. But how do kids who have no parents receive this blessing of love? How do they experience the source for life with only 15 staff members for 150 children.
I think these kids maybe feel this great thing called Love with no middleman. They’re tapped into the Source.
And I think that the reasons that the kids absolutely love for people to come visit is so they can share this Love.

So, everything is just a big love exchange at Simba. You go because you thing you’re bringing love but end up experiencing a Love greater than the love that you though you were bringing through the kid’s Love. Don’t get me wrong here, the kids love you coming to love them, and you’ll love loving them, while they love you, and a the same time you’re all Loved. It’s quite a Lovely experience.

So what is this Simba Village place?

Simba Village: where you can kick a soccer ball for 4 hours with the equatorial sun beating down on you with flys and mosquitos swarming all around here, yet you still say, “there is no other place I’d rather be that right here.”

Simba Village: Where you can have a conversation with a four-year-old about how 2 gallons of soap is good for a bug, then 1 minute later have conversation discussing deep theological issues and how creation happened.

Simba Village: where its Africa, THAT’S NOT NAIROBI. No Smog, No sleezy
politicians, No crazy Mutatus. You’ll never understand the beauty of that.

But what exactly is this organism called Simba Village?
Its an orphanage for about 150 kids, however I only got to see a third of the kids because the rest are at boarding school, the cheapest and most orphan negotiable boarding schools. The majority of their funds come from sponsors and support. They seek to be independent and more self-sustaining, so the kids can have a better life and so that there will be more of that Love thing going on for more kids.
The biggest project: the farm
They have cabbage, bananas, green grounds, zucchini, tomatoes, cows, sheep, goats, and pigs as well as many other fruits and vegetables growing on about 5 acres. This farming has some great multidimensional blessings radiating off of it.

Radiation One: The farm provides food. 150 kids is a lot of mouths to feed and can be quite expensive if they’re eating 2-3 meals a day. So the farm feeds the kids, and the dinero is used for school fees instead of food.
Radiation Two: The farm provides jobs. Local familes who are barely making it have oppourtunity to send the man of the household to come work the land. Not to mention the Love experiences they get to encounter through the kids, a luxury no on would pass up if they ever stepped foot on this holy ground.
Radiation Three: The kids also get to work the land. Instead of just sitting around or getting bored with the same games and few toys, they get the opportunity to Do Something (just like UBC!) And not just something, they get to be a part of a whole system that’s gone out for thousands and perhaps millions of years, the process of agriculture. Planting, harvesting, growing, learning, soil, wind, rain, vinyard; go read the prophets of the OT and see what language they use to describe heaven
Not to mention the self entitlement knowledge they gain. They learn the beauty and necessity of working; and they better understand scripture and Jesus’ parables.
The scriptures say if you don’t work, you don’t eat. I think there is more to those words than just the literal meaning. I think work is not only a physical thing, but also a communal, emotional, spiritual thing (if you don’t already see those four words as synonyms for spiritual). If you don’t work, you don’t get to eat the bread that is life, you don’t get to grow and lean and experience process, you don’t get to learn what it means to eat of the spirit.

This catalog of radiation could go on and on.

Another project they’re working on is a biogas project. To put it simply, they drain or scrape all the people/cow poo into a big drum, and the methane gases that are emitted over time as decomposition happens are converted into electricity. Lower electricity bills, again, means more opportunities for the kids and schooling, and less western dependence.
A new boys dorm is also almost finished. You can check out some pictures at the flickr sight that’s linked to the left
←----------------there.
They also just finished a new multistall outhouse unit. And the waste runs strait to the biogas. Not to mention the piglets that are popping out of the sows faster than you can fry bacon.

The place…its good.

The joy you receive grows exponetially when you hear the stories of some of these children. One example is of a 17-year-old Masaai girl. Her parents died when she was 12 and her uncle sold her off as a wife to an old man to be one of his many wives in exchange for a few heads of cattle. She ran away to the police, who brought her to Simba. She made it before they could do anything to her. The police brought her to simba, where she has truly fould new life, where she has found resurrection.

More on Simba is to come, but I couldn’t give it all to you now. Desperate Housewives, Grey’s Anatomy, and The Office are all in full swing from what itunes tells me. The cliffhangers are pleantiful, and Benya in Kenya is no different. More accounts from this heaven are coming.

If this thing was 1800 words long this time I can’t imagine what it will be after I spend a week out at Simba.

So stay tuned for a special 2 hour episode next time.

And next week…Karen come backs to Scranton…AND SHE’S PREGNANT.

Yea, the drama will be that good

-bc