This is a short recap of our trip to Egypt in December. It first appeared in the BFC’s newsletter.
“What’s in here” the young guard asked as we passed through Egyptian customs.
“Skateboards.” I said as sheepishly as I possibly could.
“What for?” He said rather untrustingly.
“We are giving them away.”
“Give away?”
“Yes, to kids in Cairo.”
“Really, Why?” he asked warming to us with ever exchange.
“We just want to.”
A smile slid across his lips and disappeared just as fast. He cut open every box, quickly peered inside and then sent us on our way. We were in! No bribery, no being locked in a small room and interrogated. Nothing. We walked out of the airport and into Cairo. After planning, and praying we were finally here.
For the last month and a half we had been working without rest to put together our fist international outreach. A church in Cairo called Kasr El Dobara had called us and asked if we would be interested in helping out with a Christian festival in December. Unlike our demos in the states we would have to raise all the money to go, which was about $12,000. This was staggering given the economic conditions in the US right now. I quickly discovered that the recession had hit some of our largest donors. It was obvious this would be a trip covered by the small gifts of many rather than by large donations made by a few.
On top of needing $12,000 we decided to bring 100 skateboards to give away while in Egypt. Within a week of putting out the word about our need for 100 skateboards we had every single one. The money slowly but surely trickled in. We believed that this was something we needed to walk in faith about. We felt that if we commit, and move forward, God would provide. So we left the Sunday after Thanksgiving about $600 short of our goal. It wasn’t exactly how we wanted to leave but we had the tickets so we just took the next step.
Egypt was warm, and dusty. In many ways it felt like Southern California in winter, dry, temperate, and a little windy. We were driven through the streets of Cairo and out to Beit el Wadi, the Churches conference facility. The road was sporadically paved and alongside it were cement shacks no bigger than sheds. Women covered from head to toe walked along the street with baskets on their heads. The horizon was dotted with dirty palm trees and not much else. The farther we drove the more I was picturing the facilities I had stayed in on other missions trips. When I was 13 I went to Jamaica with Youth for Christ. I stayed in an old school house with only three standing walls. At night rainstorms would blow in sideways soaking everything I owned including the sleeping bag I slept in. In the Dominican Republic I stayed in another schoolhouse. This one had four walls but no windows. I had to sleep in a mosquito net to keep tarantulas the size of Chiwawas from crawling into bed with me. These images raced through my head as we passed brick shack after brick shack. We rounded a corner and the Beit El Wadi came into view. It resembled a resort more than a church camp. As we pulled up to the dorms, Meged who is the facility manager met us. He gave us a quick tour of the facility and all my fears were put to rest. The Beit El Wadi is by far the nicest church facility I have ever been to. The staff is very proud of what they have accomplished and you can tell with the amount of work they have put into the tiniest details.
There are a couple of people in my life that I know if I tell them about a need I have they will fill it without me asking. This is a blessing and a curse. My mother-in-law, for instance will go out of her way, sacrifice her own comfort, for mine. I learned early on I couldn’t share needs with her unless I was willing for her to fill those needs. If I said I was out of gas, she would give me a twenty-dollar bill to top it off. If I was hungry, she would whip up a three course meal. My grandma is like this too. When I was in high school I would use this to my benefit by nonchalantly mentioning that my jeans had a hole in them or my shoes were looking a bit shabby. She would throw me her credit card and tell me to take care of it. I became pretty good at disguising my wants in the forms of needs. I can now add Egypt to that list. From the moment we arrived we were served without hesitation. It is humbling to know that you are undeservedly being waited on. One day I needed to do some laundry so I asked Ehab, who was our host, where the laundry room was. He said, “Bring your clothes and follow me.” So with a bundle of my own laundry in my arms I followed him to the basement of the Dorm. He then took my laundry out of my hands and said “I’ll bring it up to your room in an hour.” I argued with him that I didn’t mean for him to do it, that I was capable of doing my own laundry, but he insisted. By the end I felt that if I didn’t allow him to clean my clothes that I would be insulting him more than if I just let him. That is humility. I was ashamed. Not that I didn’t do my own laundry but that I couldn’t think of one time I ever was that selfless for someone else. Our demos were in the Tennis courts on the property. They were fenced in but had new bleachers surrounding them on all sides. Around ten in the morning the buses would begin arriving with loads of Egyptian Christians and Muslims inside. It is illegal to talk with a Muslim about the gospel. The first day of the festival the police stopped 100 busses and pulled any Muslims going to the festival off the busses. This was the first time it set in that we weren’t in America any more. What I mean is internally I had to change the way I perceived the world. Externally, yes, it was obvious we weren’t in America any more but the reality of where we were didn’t require me to accept a new set of rules. The freedoms we have in the U.S. are ingrained in me. It is a law of nature that I can talk to whomever I want whenever I want. When I am approached with a new set of rights and laws it’s like trying to open up a Mac program on a PC, it just doesn’t compute.
Unfortunately our trucks for the skateboards got tied up in Cairo. So we had just boards and wheels to give away. There were surprisingly a lot of skateboarders at the festival. The first day of the festival whenever we saw one we would give them a board and wheels. The next day those kids brought their friends and we had more t hand out. By the final day we had a blossoming skate scene in the desert in Egypt. We had dozens of skateboarders gathering with the promise of free product just like at a demo in the states.
Another way Egypt is very similar to the states is that it is full of humans. Because of September 11th and the bombardment of images of Muslims burning American flags I had a skewed persona of the Middle east and of Muslims. I fought against these stereotypes but I would be lying if I told you I was impervious to the negative image they have gotten in the U.S. Teenagers and young adults would come up to us after our demos and ask for prayer. The majority of the prayers were similar to the prayers you would hear in any youth group in the states. “I want to be a better student.” “I want to care more about what God wants and less about what my friends think is cool.” “I want to be a better witness in my school.” “I want to quit partying.” I didn’t believe these issues existed outside the U.S. Here we are, in a Muslim controlled state, and Christians and Muslims are dealing with the same issues that kids in Idaho are dealing with. They want to know what it all means; Why God loves them and what they need to do because of that love.
They weren’t all that easy. I prayed for a young woman who had lost three members of her family and lived with her abusive dad now. She said that she had a picture of Jesus in her room that she tore up because she was so angry at God. What do you say to that? She had tears in her eyes. She was afraid and if I tried to cover all that pain with a blanket statement like “God loves you and has a beautiful plan for your life” I might send her farther down in her bitterness toward God. With tears in my eyes now I told her that I didn’t know why all that bad stuff happened to her. I said I was so, so sorry for her loss and I didn’t have any answers. I said that I know that God Cries when we cry. And he mourns when we mourn. I told her to not be afraid of asking God some hard questions. He is a big God and can handle the scrutiny. I said that her pain may never go away but God can restore your relationship with him. We prayed a feeble prayer and then she disappeared into the crowd. I went over behind one of the ramps and wrestled with God for a while. I believe the deeper the pain the longer the healing will take. It’s so hard seeing suffering in someone’s eyes and knowing that all you can do is pray for them. Many times that is all they need.
