June 14 - 30/18, Lodwar, Kenya

Abrupt sermon given to Christian Union students at secondary school on June 28

“For we do not wrestle against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the cosmic powers of this present darkness, against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly places.” – Ephesians 6:12.

The sport of wrestling has had a dramatic impact on my life. I continually find myself looking back on the four years I spent in high school competing in the sport and I’m beginning to fully realize just how much it has shaped my life. It challenged me in ways I couldn’t expect. It taught me lessons I still value to this day. It was the most physically and mentally demanding experience of my life. I used to imagine that my life would become incredibly easier once I finished wrestling.

That is true in at least one aspect of my life. Morning physical training with Army ROTC at the University of Montana doesn't come close to training in a wrestling room for 2.5 hours 5 days a week and then wrestling in tournaments on the weekends. The daily abuse of being slammed, smacked and choked would end. I would never again have the pressure of a hundred eyes watching me fight someone one on one in a match that could have a very humiliating outcome.

What I didn’t foresee was the tougher arena I would be fighting in. In wrestling, I studied my opponent and I knew exactly how I needed to train to overcome him. Now I live without an opponent I can physically bring to the ground. I had to learn a new way to wrestle.

I went to Kenya as part of a group of about 25 college students with Global Program run by Intervarsity. The goal of our group was to spread the love of Jesus in Kenya and grow more in love with Him in our own lives as well. We were split into two-person teams after our second week in Kenya. Each team was sent to separate parts of Kenya challenged with different assignments. My partner, Jordan, and I were sent to the most northern county in Kenya: Turkana. Specifically, we were living in Lodwar the capital of Turkana county.

Turkana is one giant desert filled with hills, covered with thousands of prickly thorn bushes and scorched by the blazing heat of the sun from sunrise to sunset. It took us 13 hours to drive from Nairobi (the capital of Kenya) to Lodwar in a cramped shuttle van where personal space is not a God-given right. Motion sickness accompanied my partner and I about halfway through the drive, but the salesmen banging on the van windows didn't seem to care too much. We arrived at the home of our host at 3:00 in the morning and were quickly escorted to our room. The first night my partner and I slept cautiously without the protection of mosquito nets. We killed more crickets than we could count, a handful of cockroaches, a praying mantis riding on my back and a couple spiders taking naps on our beds. We had a large metal door with two locks that seemed like the gate of a castle shutting out all the terrors of the outside world. Once it was shut our room took on the occupation of an oven. Jordan and I climbed into our separate beds drenched in sweat wondering how we were ever going to fall asleep in this extremely uncomfortable state. To give you a more accurate picture of our situation, try to imagine yourself running outside in the heat of the day in the middle of summer, jumping in a hot tub then hopping out and crawling into bed. I laid awake with my eyes wide open, rolled onto my knees and prayed that God would enable me to fall asleep. Once I laid back down, the sweat didn't seem to bother me as much. I took my focus off my level of comfort and just closed my eyes. That was a lesson I took from wrestling. During a match you're dripping with sweat, you're exhausted beyond belief, you might feel like vomiting a little, but you learn to take your focus off how you feel and switch it onto the task at hand. In a wrestling match that task could be how are you going to bring your opponent down to the mat or how you might escape, but for this situation, the task was as simple as falling asleep.

I took the next day as a day of rest while my partner went to a youth service and preached the first sermon of what would be the longest stream of back to back sermons neither of us was expecting. We both endured the oven heated room for one more night, but Jordan still wasn't very at ease with the thought that a cricket could leap onto him at any moment. The following day we were immensely blessed by our host with an electric fan and two mosquito nets. The nets were more of a blessing to Jordan than me.

On our first Saturday in Lodwar, I spoke on the power of God's love at a local men's fellowship. I did my best to imitate a Kenyan accent but failed miserably. It was my first time preaching through a translator and I struggled to find a rhythm in the sermon. The core of the message still made it across as far as I know, but I could tell by a few dozing eyes in the small crowd that my audience was being patient with me. I couldn't understand the cause of what in my mind was a total disaster. I had the whole day before to write and think through the sermon. It should have come out spectacular, after all, what could be a better topic to preach on than how God's love empowers us? Our preaching team traveled back home and took a walk up a nearby hill to pray for church service the next day. We prayed that God would speak through us and would do a work in the church. I was still bummed about the poorly given message I had spoken early since I struggle with letting little mistakes go. I was going over it in my mind and wondered what I could have changed. Should I have spoken louder? Should I have used alternate verses? Was it the right message to begin with? During my self- doubt God reminded of a verse I know, so well, but so often overlook. 1 Corinthians 13:1 says, "If I speak the languages of men and of angels, but do not have love, I am a sounding gong or a clanging cymbal." If I walk into a wrestling match without any prior practice that week and simply rely on my own natural ability to win the match chances are it will not go very well for me, but if I spend the whole week preparing myself mentally and physically I will be able to go into the match with confidence knowing with full assurance that the real work has already been accomplished. Preaching works the same way. If I walk up to the pulpit relying on my natural talent to speak my words will simply come out as empty thoughts. Instead, if I walk up to preach knowing that the Holy Spirit is with me and it's God giving the word through me, I have nothing to worry about because I know that when God speaks, love falls down from heaven. Through this, God taught me how essential prayer is for preparation in ministry. My prayers turned from quick whispers two minutes before sermons to begging God to show up and proclaim His faithful love to the people.

We woke up early the next morning and started out on a 2-hour motorbike ride through miles of loose desert sand to reach Turkwell church for our first Sunday service in Turkana. The moment we arrived I was rushed to the Sunday school class to teach a lesson on Jesus calming the storm in Mark 6. I said Jesus was like a superhero and attempted to ask the children who were their favorite superheroes. They all claimed they had one, but not one of them could tell me who their favorite was. Despite the incredible confusion, the children were suffering from I went along with the story finishing it in about 10 minutes and then was dragged into the church to introduce Jordan to the church before he preached. Jordan began his sermon by telling the people to hug their neighbors which would become a common and joyous trend in all his sermons. It also made for a great time killer. The title of his sermon was “Faith Moves” about the woman with the issue of blood in Luke 8:43-48. Jordan preached with passion and in love. He consistently preached this way for the next two weeks. After that initial sermon, I always looked forward to hearing him preach. He not only greatly encouraged the people in the churches, but me as well.

During four years of wrestling, I had to frequently deal with defeat. I had to learn to stand back up after every loss and move on. Someone who was always there to pick me up after every defeat was my father. He was always ready to speak an encouraging word and never once did he tell me I should quit. His loving words are what gave me the courage to walk into every match. Listening to Jordan preach was like hearing my dad telling me to shake off the loss and wrestle the next match. I knew that Jordan was normally tired or not in the best mood before he preached. He didn't ever have much of any notes written down, but every time he stepped in front of the pulpit he completely relied on the power of the Holy Spirit to preach. It encouraged me to preach the same way. I still wrote more notes than he did, but from that point on I expected God to show up in every sermon. He not only boosted my faith with his preaching but he did so in everyday conversation. Jordan always spoke life and gave me a confidence that I don't believe anyone else could have stirred up in me. We all have potential to go far in the abilities God has given us. All we need sometimes to go the extra mile is a few words from a caring friend.

The most irritating days for me when I wrestled were the weekend tournaments that literally lasted all day. I would normally only wrestle five matches at most in a single day, but in between those matches you sit on the bleachers for hours and try not to fall asleep. The first day of house to house evangelism we conducted ran a bit like that. Our host did most of the conversing while my partner and I wandered from home to home praying for whoever we were told to pray for. The majority of our prayers were for healing and the rest ranged from God strengthening family relationships to the structure of the people's mud hut homes. When we weren’t introducing ourselves or praying, I fought the temptation of letting my mind wander while my host and the individual I was supposed to be intently focused on went back and forth in Swahili for a half an hour. A good portion of the people we encountered during evangelism days were born-again Christians that just needed prayers. The entire first day we had only encountered one young man who wasn't a Christian who walked out of the room as I attempted to explain the gospel to him. After three hours of evangelizing, my body and mind were ready to quit. Our team was already going past our set end time, which added to the frustration I struggled to keep under control. Our host decided to go to one last house, which I wasn’t sure at the time would be the last house since the home we visited prior was originally supposed to be the last home of the day. With an irked attitude, I followed my host through the property and came upon a group of about 10 people. My host whispered in my ear that these people were not born-again Christians and I needed to preach the gospel to them. I took a seat on a bench and opened up with John 3:16. For about 10 minutes I stumbled through different parts of the Bible and hoped that they wouldn't burst out laughing as I closed up my brief talk. I closed my Bible, put my head down and my host asked if anyone wanted to receive Jesus into their hearts. Three men raised their hands and in utter amazement, my eyes shot right open. With a new found enthusiasm I led them in the sinner's prayer and our ministry team walked away after we connected them to the local church. I felt like Jonah who had a simple message, yet God was able to use it to lead the entire city of Nineveh to repentance. The result wasn't as grand as it was for Jonah, but I imagine the core feeling of being stunned was similar. All Jonah did was open his mouth and spoke what God told him to speak. It wasn't Jonah's message that led people to repentance. It was the mercy of God. For me, it took me about 20 minutes to fully realize what had just happened. It was similar to waking up five minutes before a match then pinning your opponent before you realize you’re in a wrestling match. I’ve always heard that it is the Holy Spirit that draws people to Christ, but in that moment that truth became real to me. God had won a wrestling match and I was just then realizing it.

Later on that same day, I gave my first message in a church service. There were only about 10 people in the service, but I knew for God to trust me with much I had to be faithful with few. The sermon title was "If You Are Willing" on Mark 1:40-42. It was on how Jesus is more than willing to heal our disease and brokenness through the forgiveness of sins. At the end of the service, our ministry team had the opportunity to pray for healing for the whole church. The people were impacted by the message, but the message was not only for the people. Since my freshman year of wrestling, I’ve had severe acne breakouts on my back and more recently my chest. It has created insecurity in my heart and has caused me to ask God the question, "are you willing to heal?" The sermon was a strong reminder of the truth that God is more than willing to heal. It was a sermon that spoke to me.

For the next two weeks, I felt like a rock star traveling from church to church on a daily- basis preaching sermons. Jordan and I alternated each day. If it was his turn to preach, I would introduce him to the church and vice versa. Whoever wasn’t preaching was also responsible for teaching Sunday school and leading the majority of prayers after the service. By the end of our stay in Lodwar, Jordan and I had both preached nine sermons. Each of which we had on average about 10 minutes in preparation time to write. I thank God for the few minutes we received to write each sermon because it was another point that proved it was God speaking through us. Sermons I had more than an hour to write would come out as though I had written them a few minutes before and sermons that had taken me 10 minutes to write the night before God would use to touch the hearts of people. I preached a message titled "God in the Brokenness" that God used in just that way. The night before the sermon I was reading through Judges chapters 14-16. I hadn’t planned on preaching on Samson, but when the Bible described how Samson fled to a cave to escape the brokenness from a lost relationship I couldn’t help but relate to it in a small way. It seems to be such a minuscule part of his story, but it was not so for Samson. His brokenness drove him to a place of hiding and of anger. It urged him to seek out vengeance and another empty relationship that ultimately lead to a deeper place of loneliness. On his final day, he prayed to God to strengthen him one last time. In my brokenness, I wondered where a good God might be hiding. I questioned the love that God promises is unfailing and the wrestling match began in the depths of my heart. I cry out, "God, if your love is so great, will you strengthen me one more time!" Then the devil would remind me of the crumbling pieces of my heart that I have failed to put together for, so long and he takes me down to the wrestling mat. I started to carry the heavy weight of a shattered heart like some sort of badge of pride that kept me from being flipped on my back but also stopped any chance for me to escape from my opponent. The match comes up to the point where victory is a distant thought and the possibility of escaping is minimal. Escape from the brokenness and hurt that has been accumulating in my heart seemed like an unreal dream.

On June 11 in a place called Mathare Valley, God filled every crack in my heart with His joy and comfort in the most beautiful and unexpected way. Mathare Valley is a slum that the entire Global Program team visited before our assignments, but it wasn't till the end of our trip that day after we walked through the slum did God do a miracle in my life. A few other students and I walked into a daycare that was, in essence, a hole in the ground with a roof and walls. It was crowded with little children who were curious about our presence. We stood in the daycare for a bit and sang children's songs like "Jesus Loves Me" and "This Little Light of Mine." As we sang one of the GP members, Savannah, handed me a child to hold that couldn't have been any older than 2 years old. I continued to sing "Jesus Loves Me" and the child clung on to my shirt and fell asleep. In that moment God spoke. I didn't hear an audible voice, but it was like I heard God gently whisper, “this is how I have held you in the middle of every night you felt alone.” Then I thought of Psalms 23:2 – “He lets me lie down in green pastures; He leads me beside quiet waters.” For the first time I could see how God was present in every moment I cried out to him. On the nights when I had no hope of falling asleep I could see Jesus standing by my bedside carefully listening to my prayers catching every tear with His hands. I saw the love our Heavenly Father has for us and my brokenness was exchanged for the joy of God. For the past year I have doubted the love of God. I questioned how David describes God’s love in the Psalms as unfailing. I thought if God’s love is so faithful how come I feel as though God is against me? Instead of God dismissing my doubt, He did the same for me as He did for Thomas in John chapter 20. He let me see the marks on His hands and how much He really does love us. Through the grace of God, I escaped the pit of despair that kept me in bondage for too long. Now it was my opportunity to complete a takedown.

Friday night on June 22 I stood in front of a crowd of about 30 young men and women and preached on how God is present in every moment of sorrow. I taught remembering how it feels to be stuck in a broken place, but I preached from the restoration in my heart. When I preached, I wrestled.

On my partners and my second to last day in Lodwar, our host decided it would be a good idea to surprise us. He wanted both of us to give one last sermon without any preparation whatsoever. Both of our sermons would be given to high school students. Jordan preached sometime in the afternoon to about 300 students. He told a couple personal stories and explained what Jesus went through on the cross. After his message and a quick tour of the school we attended a Bible study for a short period of time, so I had some time to at least think of what verse in the Bible I wanted to open up with. I decided on Hosea 14:4, which beautifully says, “The Lord says, ‘Then I will heal you of your faithlessness; my love will know no bounds, for my anger will be gone forever.” I thought since I lacked any sort of notes the easiest thing I could go on was a Christian rant about God’s grace, so that is what I talked about for 30 minutes to approximately 500 Christian Union high school students. It was simply the gospel. It is the power of the cross that breaks the weight of every sin and draws people to Christ. The sermon randomly jumped from Hosea to Jeremiah then ended in Romans chapter 6 on the freedom found in Christ through his grace. I understand what it means to wrestle with sin, so I was eager for the students to understand the greatness of the love of Jesus. I hoped for them to grasp the truth that God is incomparably better than the emptiness found in worldly pleasures. True freedom can only be found in the forgiveness and love of Jesus Christ and with that message, I offered an opportunity to respond to the gospel message. From what I could tell about 50 students raised their hands to receive Jesus. I was again astonished at the power in the simple message of the gospel. I didn't need to write down any elegant thought-provoking lines to blurt out. All that was needed was for the loving truth of what Jesus did on the cross to be spoken because it is the truth that sets captives free. The wrestling match in all those students lives with sin was now won by the power of the cross.

For so long I have felt as though I’ve been stuck in a losing match against an opponent I know too well. Wrestling with thoughts in my own head was a daily occurrence. Does God really hear my prayers? Did I make the right decision? Did I do enough? Every question either doubted God’s character or it put too much reliance on myself. I started to convince myself that losing was simply another one of my character traits. Whether every negative thought I had was planted by the devil or coming out of my own head I’m not totally sure. All I’m sure of is that my mind was in a habit of defeat. I’m at the end of the 3rd period and I come up just a few points short trying to earn God’s favor by my own works. I began walking into every match with the posture of a defeated Christian. Every match started with a question, “Does God really love me?” I used to walk up to preach wondering if God would show up; if God could look past my sin for just a moment and use my voice to speak to His people. God is so beautiful that even the little thoughts that keep pestering your mind day and night He wipes away. God reminded me of one simple verse that would pop up in all the sermons I preached in Lodwar. Romans 5:8 - “But God shows His love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” Oh, what great love is this that the creator of heaven and Earth would choose to lay down his life for a wretched sinner like me. God's love is constantly fighting for us and Jesus is in heaven pleading on our behalf. 2 Corinthians 5:2 - "He made Him who knew no sin to be sin on our behalf, so that we might become the righteousness of God in Him." Life is full of wrestling matches. The question is who is wrestling your match, you or God?