It didn’t take long to write, but it expressed my heart perfectly.

Recently, as part of an exercise, I was asked to write out a prayer. The facilitator wanted us to be thoughtful…writing our prayers as did the psalmists and ancient believers. Here was my entry:

The road is barely visible
Covered by the dust of frantic inactivity
The remnant of miles traveled hopefully
Long ago.

What of great import drew me away?
Why was the road inadequate -
the destination re-routed?

The lure of significance?
The beauty of a throne?
The nobility of sacrifice or the promise of reward?

The road to joy remains unexplored.
Its destinations plural…its source, singular.

I need a Map.

It’s interesting what pours out of my heart when I take a few moments to examine it.  The noise in my life often drowns out what is actually important.

I’m grateful for the Map.

I just have to read it.

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“I’m sorry, sir, there is no flight.” “Has it been cancelled?” “No sir, there is no flight from Nairobi to Bamako today. You must wait until tomorrow.” “But I have a ticket for a flight today, 13th March.” “Yes sir. I can see your ticket. But there is no flight today. You must wait until tomorrow.”

So started today’s adventure. I got up at 3:45 am. The bus to Nairobi picked us up at 4:45 am as planned. So far, so good.

We got to the airport about 5:45 am. My flight is scheduled for 9 am. The checkin line is nice and short. Only one person ahead of me. Things are going well.

Then I had the conversation with the airline checkin attendant. Things are not going so good, now. She continued, “But I can see it is not your fault. So I will check you in for your flight tomorrow. I will give you a hotel voucher and meals. You can come back tomorrow.”

So, I’m in a nice 5-star hotel in downtown Nairobi.

I have meal vouchers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. I have internet. It’s a nice place.

But I’m supposed to...

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Sam had no idea that a bomb-filled car had just entered the church parking lot. After the explosion, he stumbled outside and shook the dust and debris from his clothes.

I asked Sam how he felt after surviving the bomb blast.

Sam is part of the staff of Campus Crusade for Christ in Nigeria. He lives in the city of Jos, where Kay and Iived for many years during our time in Nigeria.

Sam was attending church when a car bomb exploded. This is the church where Kay and I attended for almost 10 years. The church where Kay played the piano. The church where I preached on several occasions. The church where we trained people in the basics of the Christian life, how to share their faith with others, how to follow Jesus closely. This is the church where the pastor cancelled the service one Sunday and the congregation walked 2 miles to the main market and shared Christ with vendors and customers.

I viewed photos of the wreckage. Broken glass, twisted metal, parts of the car that housed the bomb. But the photo that wren...

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This morning, I read Matthew 10. Whoever loves father or mother more than me is not worthy of me. Whoever does not take his cross and follow me is not worthy of me. Whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.

I reflected on the life I have found by losing my own ambitions and plans.

I am a 5th generation native-born Texan. My great-great grandfather was born in the Wylie area of Collin County, Texas in 1853. His father had moved from Tennessee.

I am a 4th generation product of Mesquite, Texas. My great-grandfather Sam Seabourn moved to Mesquite. I graduated from the same Mesquite High School that my mother and father did. I married my high school sweetheart, also a 4th generation product of Mesquite, whose parents also graduated from Mesquite High School.

Until leaving for college, I had only lived in two houses and both were on the same piece of land. Kay had lived in one house on two pieces of land (her dad jacked up their house and moved it when their land was turned into a shopping center).

To say...

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Imagine being a 13 year-old boy in the 70’s. Divorce was not yet the norm, and it was unusual for you to have a different last name than your parents. You haven’t seen your “real dad” since you were 8, and you REALLY identify with your step-dad.

You get it, right?

Junior high isn’t the most forgiving sub-culture in the world, and constantly explaining who you are and where you came from can be both exhausting and humiliating.

Wouldn’t you want to change your name? Wouldn’t you want to remove the obstacles that keep you from your mission? (Which, in junior high, is survival with the minimum amount of humiliation and pain.)

This week our organization announced a name change…from “Campus Crusade for Christ” to “Cru”. For 29 years I have been a part of this amazing group. Our DNA has always been to take the gospel, the love of Jesus, to EVERY person on the globe – giving every person the opportunity to say “yes” to Jesus!

In recent years, however, our name has become an...

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