A Dancer Descended Mt. Kenya

Prayerful Introductions In June of 2010, I was sitting in the back pews at Trinity Baptist Church in New York. Walking to the front of the congregation was Jamie Spann, deacon of the Rwanda Missions. She asked for our support for their upcoming September trip to Rwanda. She spoke of several ways the congregation could support the effort, and the first step was signing up to become a team member. Anxiety overtook me. My attention zeroed in on Jamie and her presentation. When something or someone piques your interest, suddenly, nothing else matters. This mission to Rwanda sounded so fascinating that I knew I wanted to be a part of it. I can’t explain why, but I felt I was floating above the congregation. I had experienced life-changing services before, but that one took me to a different level. I was curious about Africa, a place I’d seen only in movies, on TV, and in photos. I used to pore over world maps in school. The continent offered so much scenery, history, and wildlife that kept my daydreaming skills flowing. How and when can I go? I thought while Jamie explained the different ways to support the effort. She encouraged her listeners to find her after the service and inquire more if Rwanda piques your interest. I realized I needed to hush my racing thoughts of African safaris and let what she was speaking soak into my heart. As Jamie returned to her seat, I wanted to introduce myself, but all I could do was daydream about my participation in that ministry because I was sure there was more to it than just getting on a plane. I worried about learning something about the ministry that would bring me back to reality; I wanted to stay in the clouds with my thoughts. I don’t even remember what the sermon was about that day. The idea of going to Africa on a mission trip to assist a community in desperate need and meet new people in the church was just what I was looking for. My excitement in the pew led me to imagine building a house and playing with children in the Third World country. I could have gone up and told Jamie I was going, but I reflected on a prayer I had learned the week before this out-of-body introduction to Rwanda. Answers to this prayer were staring me in the face. That specific prayer happened to come earlier that week while I was on the beach in later May of 2010 on Hilton Head Island, South Carolina. It was nearly 4:00 a.m., and I was awake in my bedroom, frustrated because I had no idea what I was going to do when I returned to New York. My contract with Arts Center of Costal Carolina was ending within the week, and I had a busy schedule of unemployment creeping up on me. I tossed and turned, feeling trapped in my unpredictable life. I’m a guy who prefers to get as much sleep as possible, but I knew I wasn’t going to get any that night. I hated this zombie-like status; there was nothing on TV or even on porn sites that wouldn’t fatigue my eyes. My unsatisfied and shameful acts led me to pace about my room, and I suddenly spied my Bible collecting dust on the nightstand. Reading that would surely put me to sleep, I thought, but I felt guilty and unworthy to read the Word, especially after indulging in some 2-D lust. The sight of the unopened Bible weighed on me. My anger was reaching the boiling point. My inconsistent reading of the Word had me uneasy. I knew I needed to pray because I’d been distracted by my inappropriate behaviors. I felt trapped inside my room. I wanted to get out of the house for some air and time to think. I grabbed my iPhone, headphones, and sandals and headed to the beach. On the shore, I saw the horizon begin to lighten up. I sat on a rock and prayed about my return to the Big Apple. I breathed in the coastal air as I stared at the horizon. I didn’t normally go out early to watch the sunrise, but my loneliness and the unpredictability of the life waiting for me back in New York was depressing. At that time, I was not praying or reading the Word. I struggled to get my prayer out. I even wondered if He would even hear me. Something told me that my brokenness and my willingness to seek His help had put me right where He could start repairing me. I knew God just wanted me to talk to Him, so I said it as I saw it. I prayed from my heart, asking for His forgiveness. Even though I didn’t have a mature idea of what I was asking forgiveness for, I could articulate a few relevant problems. Out loud, I expressed my uncertainty about my upcoming days in New York. Which auditions should I attend? What was I going to do about my living situation? What will my next job be? I had an endless list of questions, but I was in desperate need for some peace and comfort, and I thought the Lord could provide that. Being simply human, I was expecting an immediate response from God. But the stars above and my hopes for a quick fix for my problems began to fade with the morning light. God’s patience, however, is remarkable; He clearly will win every stare contest. Could practicing patience be the best quick-fix lesson? I wondered. I thought about my needs. I needed friends I could trust, learn from, and admire, but I had no one to cling to or derive spiritual “food” from. I needed to get involved in something meaningful not only for me but also for others. I cannot magically control the sun, but I have faith it will always rise. Perhaps I needed some time in the dark to reflect, be patient, and be still in spite of my anxiety. At times, I would interrupt my prayer and just listen to the waves. I started throwing rocks into the ocean after having named each one after one of the burdens and sins weighing me down. I spent a bunch of time naming and throwing those rocks, and blowing off some steam made me feel better. I thought it ironic that no answers came until the sun rose. Maybe God wasn’t going to answer my prayers in an audible voice that morning, but I knew from the Old and New Testaments that God uses nature in all forms to get through to us, to break us down, and unite us. Just then, as I stepped into the Atlantic ankle deep, I could hear God through the waves and feel Him in the sand washing my feet as he did with His disciples’ feet. I immediately sensed He wanted me to calm down, to be still. The morning light was my awakening. By that time, I saw others taking advantage of the serene beach. They were mainly dog walkers and joggers, but we were all there for a purpose. They were exercising their legs or their dogs’ legs while I was exercising my relationship with God. It was like joining a gym. I realized my first few visits with God in this way were going to be tough, but I was sure it could become easier, routine, if I kept practicing. Warmth filled my chest, and a huge amount of weight lifted from my shoulders. It provided a sense of relief and excited me enough to run and play as if I were weightless and could take flight like Superman. I heard no voice giving me concrete answers, but nature’s sweetness was replacing my anxiety. Being in the presence of the Lord was something I could relax with and rely on. I ran up and down the beach with the other early birds, their pets, and I felt free to fly with the hundreds of seagulls busy eating breakfast. After my Superman flight with the seagulls, I succumbed to my need for adequate rest to prepare me for my day at the theater. Lifting up my praise and thanks for the pedicure along the shore, I strolled back to the house I’d been in for the past seven weeks and thought maybe I should pray more often because the weight of a hardened heart could not be healthy. I began to appreciate how much easier it was to walk in light rather than in darkness...