Kenya dig it?

It seems as though most of my posts could just begin with the same thing; “I know it has been a while since my last entry, and I have been really busy having fun in *insert country name here*.” Well, the same is true for this post. It certainly has been a while since I reconnected to the blogosphere, and a lot has happened.
I used to think that one had to be rich in order to have a second home in Africa. I also used to think that one had to have scandalous affairs in order to have a second family in another country. I just so happen to have both, and I am most definitely not a rich playboy. Being here at Tumaini is like visiting relatives on summer vacation. I can honestly say that I did nothing to prepare for this trip, but who prepares and hyper-schedules a family vacation?

I was particularly excited to visit the older boys of Tumaini. However, when I arrived I was surprised that the boys were not here anymore. Somebody replaced them with young men. Voices deeper, inches taller, and baby fat lost, I felt like a 2nd cousin “x” times removed-“Oh my, last time I saw you, you were only this tall!” The thoughts going through their head probably mirrored the ones that I used to have during those awkward moments, “Jee really?! I am taller? I thought puberty made people shrink, not grow!” I know, I was a smart a____ (fill in the blank with either the sound that a snake makes, or “leck”).

Hangin’ out at Tumaini always helps me recalibrate my compass (helping me find the magnetic North of my spiritual life), and this time is no exception. But oddly enough, it isn’t because of the extended time in church or the exaggerated Jesus language. The time in church has made me question the motives of such types of organized religion. The caging legalism, the rules of how to be perfect, and the crushing guilt that is quickly provided when those rules are broken, the “sin management”, the shame that takes the place of forgiveness, and the judgment that takes the place of mercy are things that drive me away from The Church. The farther I run from religion, the closer I get to God. I know that this sounds backwards, but maybe these man-made institutions have some things backwards also. Here is a perfect example…

One of my brothers here at Tumaini, OT, was told by the church elders that he couldn’t enter the church unless he shaved his dreadlocks, because-as we ALL know-Christians don’t have dreadlocks. This is HAIResy!!! (Oh, Levi you are so punny…) So, in the spirit of keeping The Rules, The Church turned away a former orphan who is hungry for God. I was reminded about the story in the Bible where Jesus didn’t heal the sick woman because he didn’t like the way she parted her hair. I bet John the Baptist had dreadlocks. Can you imagine a man out in the desert dressed in camel hair, eating locusts, and then taking the time to sit down in front of his mirror to comb his hair? Samson never even cut his hair. I wonder what his looked like.

I remember some elders from a church in the Dominican Republic trying to turn away several young women on the basis that their pants were too tight (I thought they looked great, just don’t ask me what the sermon was about). It is in this dangerous existence that, “come as you are” gets turned into, “come as you should be”. When we morph the openness of Jesus with the closed-mindedness of humanity we never fully understand what the image of God looks like.
I know that most of you just wanted a quick read on “My Summer In Kenya”, and didn’t anticipate a critical analysis of The Church, so I will give you what you want, and as always my attention span has run out so you will be left with the bullet point version. Sorry, but it is tea time and I am jonesin’ for some chai.
-fed a blind chameleon to a pig (it was an accident)
-laughed for extended amounts of time with the kids about the various tones and pitches of goat farts. Yes, I turn 19 in two weeks
-got in a water fight
-made a baby cry. On purpose. (don’t judge me)
-created a new french fry sauce that can only be described as an adventure for your taste buds
-taught the young men of Tumaini some kung fu moves and ended up bleeding. That backfired.
-got stuffed from liver, ostrich, and chocolate ice cream
-saw a woman wearing MC Hammer pants
-watched a rugby tourney and I still have no clue about how they play
-walked around the slums in flip flops and stepped in human excrement
-had a slumber party with the boys. We watched pirated movies and had French fries and s’mores for breakfast. Regardless of your opinions on pirated movies, I enjoy them. Plus, it takes about two generations for movies to come out in theatres here. I think Rocky II comes out next week.
-I have been improving my soccer skills. I can’t bend it like Beckham yet.
-I have been enjoying the Michael Jackson tributes on the radio. I still can’t do the “Smooth Criminal” lean though
-forgot to take my malaria medicine…since I have arrived. Sorry Mom.
-helped plant 400 trees at the new property that Tumaini has