Early on I admitted to the ability of driving a stick shift. Since then I have been the registered driver of all teams into downtown Bucharest, the airport, local village streets, national highways, and ministry sites. I actually love it. It's a bit crazier than the states. My favorite part is coming to not-so-four-way-stops that turn into four-way-free-for-alls when eighteen wheelers compete against vespas and Daewoo's. Daewoo is fun to say. Daewoo.

I was driving the van doing 80kmp on highway with Tom Jones "It's Not Unusual" blaring on the radio in the background as Chad and I belted out the lyrics and images of Tim Burton's "Mars Attacks" flooded back to memory. It was surreal. It felt like a fantastic, irrational, unbelievable dream. If someone told me a year ago that I would be doing this I would have said no way and laughed 'til my side ached with glee.

We drove to a gypsy village not to far from where we are staying with no real plan in mind other than to play with the local kids. Within a few minutes I was able to find a stained out mattress and some broken pieces of metal to form what would make the goals for our new field. Granted the asphalt field we played on also had shards of glass, broken pieces of shingles, a tiny plastic bath tub, and a ripped in half suitcase all of which resided next to an abandoned house that I'm sure was the proud owner of at least three forms of asbestos and two forms of venereal disease. The whole experience again felt surreal and reeked of danger and potential. It was one of the most unorganized yet entertaining soccer games I have ever been a part of.

The next day followed by rounding up the local gypsy kids in a large van and setting them free on the playground of Casa Shalom where we are staying. Within seconds screams of joy rained down as the kids ran from slide to swing-set to ball to bike and back to swing-set. Two minutes with one and on to the next, tossing whatever toy they had found to the side in search of a new conquest. As Chad, Tom, and I drove the ten person van back to the village filled with twenty kids who rarely if ever had driven in a motorized vehicle chants in Romanian of "faster, faster" rang in my ears. They followed their chants with "Politia, Politia" as we passed the local police and my blood pressure rose slightly due to my lack of a local license coupled with the thought of a van packed full of twenty sweaty gypsy kids. After we passed I began chanting "Ali bomaye, Ali bomaye!" I don't think anyone got the joke but Chad and Tom. And again I felt a surreal moment.

The last day with the kids was an opportunity to wash feet. Literally. Me, Kyle, a bucket, some soap, and scrubbing brushes for their little fingernails and toes. I tried to talk in my best Asian nail parlor accent as I asked how their boyfends were. No I did not spell boyfends wrong. That's not a racist joke, its just funny. Thus another surreal moment in time for me. Never would I have imagined being where I am in life at the ripe age of twenty-five.

Anyways, when I had the opportunity to wash their feet I couldn't help but feel overwhelmingly blessed. So what do all these moments add up to for me? Call it what you will but in some form or another, ministry happens, and people are being loved.

My friend Sara Piazza who has a knack for encouraging others and speaking truth into situations recently wrote me that my "life is awesome." Its true. My life is awesome because I feel blessed. Blessed that God is letting me the opportunity to wash the feet of the poor and be a part of something outside of myself.

Thanks for reading my blogs.

Also I have a mini-mohawk and the girls on my team have lice.

You decide which one is worse.

Salley-Salleyjandro

The next day team leaders decided to have a day out in Bucharest. Mostly we just wandered the city catching up on each others month's experiences, highlights and lowlights. I needed to find a potty because of my young, overactive bladder. As we were walking down the street I saw an older women sitting on the side walk with a sign reading something to the effect of cancer slash procedure. As soon as we walked by her I felt like if I did not go back and pray for her I would be missing out on what the Lord was saying. We ducked into the next fast food joint and I still hadn't said anything to the group about going back. It wasn't until buying some water and pulling a few bills out of my pocket to take back to her that I told them we needed to go back and pray for her.

I also prefaced this with, "this is not my strong suit, hearing things from the Lord, and it might sound kinda cliché Christiany, but I feel like I would be disobedient right now if we did not go back and speak to her." As soon as I said that Syd the Kid Sample, said she felt the same way.

See what happens for me in these situations is I don't want to come out and say something that may sound weird unless it's already backed by someone else. It's kinda freaky to tell people that I might have just "heard" or felt led to act by God. 

We all agree to go back. I go ahead of the group and kneel down to talk to her. I start by saying "this might be weird and I doubt that you understand everything I am saying, but I am going to pray for you right now." Within the first two sentences of me talking to this woman, whose name is Mariana, she began to cry. I don't think she understood all of what I was telling her but she understood that eight random strangers loved her because God loved her. I wanted her to know that the Lord takes notice of her and her cry does not fall on deaf ears. That even though she is suffering right now, God sees his child and has not passed over her. She told me that she was so glad that we didn't pass over her like so many had that day. We prayed healing over her. We listened to her as Dan translated the broken Spanish. We heard her story and then we told her what God thought of her.

That she was His beloved.

That even if she was not healed physically, that God would be her Protector.

Mariana felt like she had sat out much of her life; she missed the beauty of what God had for her; she missed a chance to live at times and is now realizing it with little time left. We too could have missed the beauty in that moment if our group didn't go back.

I could have missed God telling me to Rise Up.

Home of Nadia Comaneci, Transylvania's Dracula, the Carpathian Mountains, and Gypsy tears (said in a Borat voice...but HBO Borat, not movie Borat. Movie Borat was excessive.)

I've mentioned before that I want to write a great story with my life. My story begins to have character development when I begin to listen better. Let me try to explain.

Two nights ago we were having a squad worship session. I was distracted and upset. Upset that I was made to sit in on worship that I didn't want to be a part of; upset the World Cup final was going on and I have missed every game this year except the first two because I was in post communist village in Ukraine; upset that I feel like I have a harder time entering into a place of worship than the masses; and upset that sometimes I feel like I fake it.

There are fifty plus people worshiping in this room and I am in the back sitting on the couch journaling that this is stupid. Not that the World Race is stupid, or that being in Romania is stupid, just that its stupid that I ask God that I want to hear from Him and don't feel like I do, that I want him to pour out his Spirit over me like he does others.

So I get bored in worship. I get tired of the same scene I've seen in church all my life because it doesn't affect me. And then I become cynical and skeptical of my faith.

I think part of me went on this thing so that I could see miracles so that I wouldn't have so much doubt about my own faith sometimes. I mean let's be honest. Sometimes Christianity sounds a little crazy. Adam and Eve talking to a snake, eating some pomegranate thing, which leads to us having a sin nature for doing so. What I am trying to say is that it takes a bit of faith to believe in anything right. If you are an atheist you have to have a great deal of faith to believe in chance, fate, or simply nothing at all.

So then it comes back to me just wanting to see a miracle. To hear God's voice clearly. That's it then. That's what I want. Why shouldn't I pray for miracles?

Maybe it's selfish to want it just to prove my faith, but even the strongest of Christians need a little reinforcement that what they believe is true and changes people's lives. This is getting long. So here are the cliff notes before the character development comes.

A girl on our squad who I feel like is very adapt to hearing God's voice came up to me after worship and told me she had something to tell me. I told her I didn't want to hear it.  I wish I could give you a Jonathan Safran Foer description of Brittany Priest but I'll just tell you she carries a tambourine with her because God wanted her to do it as a sign of joy. The girl has a spirit about her.

This is what she tells me. "God told me when we were singing 'Rain Down' that God is going to pour out his Spirit over Nathan Salley on this race."

I have a prayer journal that I rarely write in. Every now and again I look back in it to see how requests have been answered. I found one dated 1/29/09. It's a disjointed thought that states, "where I am in life. wanting to go and do. but feeling stuck and complacent." More than a year and a half ago I wanted to go. I put a check mark next to that note today feeling that my petition had been answered. I decided to add a note to it which simply says, "6/29/2010. I'm in Ukraine!"

I love that we can make appeals and be heard by God. That he gives us the desires of our hearts.

I stinkin love that verse. I love that Job writes it in present tense. That miracles and wonders are happening today. That the cries of injustice do not fall on deaf ears. I feel sorry for the Christian that no longer believes our God does miracles and would prefer to reason away an act of the Lord as happen-chance or circumstance. I think it's a miracle I didn't pass the medical part of the Peace Corp process. I think it's a miracle that I have the chance to do the World Race.

I have a list of all of you that are supporting me financially and through prayer. I want you to know that I look at that list often and try to take time to appeal for you as well. Maybe I don't know all of your specific requests but please know you are being lifted up and that God answers prayers.

Right now I still have about $4,800 to raise in support. If even five more people decided to give $20 monthly that would be a huge help.

I would write to my sister and tell her thank you for loving me the way you do and for finding the World Race for me. I would tell my dad thank you for showing me what it looks like to be a servant and a close friend. I would tell my mom sorry for when I haven't loved you as well as I should have at times and to thank you for taking care of me all those years when I know it couldn't have been easy.

I would tell Patrick Shanks and Kurt Roberts thanks for being complete idiots and I look forward to watching the World Cup together when we are 40. I would tell Tyler Boyd that you are not as sexy as everyone thinks you are, but you have made the end of my college years worth while and have spoken life into me and for that I thank you. I would tell Mackenzie and Nattiel thank you for being gems that brighten up the room when they enter. I would tell Sam Payne that I hate him, but love him more than he knows, and thank him for putting up with me. I would tell Jonah thanks for being a good friend when I needed one and that we will make it to the March Madness Final Four someday. I would tell the Meekers thank you for Girls Group (Hot Ladies Group)...because its one of the best ministries going in Fort Collins by pouring out of your lives on so many women. I would tell Tim thanks for candid conversations while filling the lungs with hookah and that someday we will travel together and surf on beaches and on couches.

And I would tell so many more people so much more of what God was saying about them, which is that they are loved and beautiful.

I wish someone someday would find my journals and read my stories of trials, accomplishments, failures and while laugh and cry. I hope that they would see me as someone who loved others well, persevered under trials, and acted on compassion instead of pity. I wish that at my funeral someday that they would throw a huge party with "5 Years Time" by Noah and the Whale playing in the background and not mourn me leaving. That people would bring New Belgium beer and dance and laugh. And people would hula-hoop and ride bikes.

Camp Dream Lugansk, Ukraine.

No one here can pronounce Nathan well in Russian. Instead, my name here has become Ba'-ra'-da.' This means Beard. My name is Beard. I guess No-Prune-June is coming in handy. I am afraid to shave now, fearing I will loose my name.

My team is literally on the border of Russia and Ukraine. If you swam across the river you'd be in Russia. Our ministry is running camps for orphans and local kids that have had a rough upbringing. Another part of our ministry is to the translators that are mostly non-Christians. Its kinda sneaky getting atheist to translate God's Word back into English for you, but mostly its just cool. It leads to questions.

Ivan is my translator. He is roughly 17. He likes Metallica, climbing buildings, lemon eating contest, and smoking. He does not like organized religion, sports, or any current heavy metal bands.

So remember these things in your prayers as I remember you in mine. Pray for Unity in my team. Pray for Abandonment that leads to Brokenness, which leads to a more Malleable Spirit.

Thank you for supporting me, I can feel your prayers from afar and believe that the prayers of the righteous are powerful and effective.

Day 6 Training Camp

I thought I was going to get sent home.

The staff decided they wanted to play a symbolic-missionary game. The rules were slightly vague. Find your family, missionary, pastor, and church. Don't go to jail and that was about it. This is what the game looked like to me. Get yelled at, go to jail, have your shoes and head lamp taken from you. Next, get hosed down in the sand, while doing push-ups and having ketchup, eggs, and some form of flour poured all over you.

At one point they were making fun of my friend's alma matter so I started to sing the Ram's fight song hoping it would produce some laughs. One of the staff that I am friends with wanted to make sure I was getting the point of this game so made it a point to harass me. At one point I was pushed on the grass and he began dragging me to jail. Now I am not really into hazing so I thought that this would be a good time to assert myself.

So you know what I did? I kicked him in the...

I thought I was going to get sent home.

Like they had fill in leaders they would drive in from outside Atlanta for cases just like this when people lose their cool by doing Chuch Norris moves on the staff during missionary-game-day. I had to apologize to my friend afterward. He said he thought it was funny. I think he said that mostly because he didn't want me to do it again and kill any hope of future kids. He still covers when I see him. If you are reading this I am sorry.

Anywho. I got the point. While it was not my favorite exercise I think they were trying to show us to the smallest degree what persecution might look like to see how we would respond. I don't tell you this stuff for you to think that Adventures in Missions is some crazy cult playing reindeer games in the forest so they can take out their anger for having had to eat ugali for the past year. I tell you this because I trust my squad leaders. I trust I can say that I am frustrated when I am frustrated and struggling when I am struggling and I won't be judged for it.

Ending Note

Please pray for my team to have unity through peace. Pray for me to have boldness, courage, health, wisdom, patience, and larger biceps.

 

I'm not positive that I will be a team leader for sure yet. I tell God to have his way in my life, but really I don't want that to happen most of the time. I'm trying to give up control of my own life.

It's a process.

I'll keep you posted.