Get a Cut or Get Cut, Your Choice (Except Wednesdays)

I know that you have all been anxiously waiting for me to get my hair cut once again, and I’m sorry but it does tend take a good 3 weeks until that time rolls around again! But don’t you fret, the hair hit the usual awkward spot and I decided to venture to my usual spot for a trim, and I have an even better story than the first! So I’ll stop all this introduction mamble jamble and get to the goods.

Outside of the experiences from last time like the stares from the shop full of African men, the blaring hip hop music, the buckets of Vaseline, and of course the grease for your added enjoyment, you can add a near horrible experience to that list of goodies. I was right at the climax of my hair cutting experience, you know, as they are dusting off the loose hair and reaching for the grease. Maybe you don’t know actually, my bad. Regardless, it was right as this time that I noticed a discussion that was taking place right beside me. When I say discussion I think I really mean argument. I’ve been around arguments plenty of times before, usually it is centered around who the better basketball team is between my brothers and I (Clearly there is no argument this year.), or my mom and dad trying to determine who was snoring last night (It’s always dad, but he puts up a good fight). This was not like that. One, this was in another language. B, it was in two other languages so neither of the individuals fighting understood what the other was saying, and I understood neither. From the little Afrikaans that I do understand I was able to pick up from the mad individual that he wanted his phone back and that my barber had either taken it or something of the like. Cell phone theft is pretty common around the Manenberg area because you can make a quick R50 or more and that is good money for drugs. I am not sure how the plaintiff was able to track his stolen phone down, but I am judging from his posse that went with him that he didn’t use the nicest measures. I do not understand any Xhosa and so I was not sure what my barber was saying at all, but from his motions and pointing at me and other clients he was saying that he did have the phone but it was at his house and after he finished cutting our hair he would go get it. The other man was not satisfied with this and called one of his goons who began to reach for something. At this point I may have peed my pants just a little. Sorry for the graphic detail, but it is true! I was considering my next move if he pulled out a gun. One side of me would be the extra quick and suave hero and tackle the guy and save the day, but the real side of me was looking for a good place to hide in a trailer. Luckily, it was not a gun, but it was a whip that he had tied around his arm that he then wrapped around his knuckles. At this point I regretted not buying the Chuck Norris kickboxing package set for the low low price of $19.99. If I had then I could have given him a swift kick to the jugular and ended the entire problem, but I took the “rational” road and told myself that Chuck Norris was a joke and I didn’t need his teaching, lesson learned. The man began to get in the barber’s face and make threats in Afrikaans that I would assume weren’t in the uplifting manner that the Bible would recommend, but I did not see this as a time to tell him that. But, and if I have lost you in my random side notes I apologize, I tend to make jokes to cover up for things that make me look vulnerable. But, I saw out of the corner of my eye a gang member from the American’s gang that I have befriended come running towards the shop. I also know that this guy has killed a man so I assumed that he was just looking for some more fun, but quite the opposite. He broke up the fight and within a few minutes had everyone sorted out and was walking the upset man to get his phone back. As I was leaving he stopped me with this huge grin on his face and told me, “I knew you was in there Tobs, I got your back!” I played it off like I didn’t need him to get my back, but I remember the feeling I felt when I saw him running. A familiar face. A man who stood up for me when he didn’t have to. Not that I was in any serious danger or anything, but he came to my rescue. I gave him a hug and went on my way, but I’ll never forget that haircut.

Although, it wasn’t the best all-around service that I have ever received. I didn’t even get the grease, which is included in the price. I don’t think I will argue it though, I’ve made it 21 years without being whipped (Outside of the corporal punishment I received from my father); I think I could go a few more!

By the way, I realize that it may seem that I don’t do much over here because I only post about getting my hair cut and ridiculous things like that, but I assure you that I do other things! I just don’t write about the day-to-day things because I have these exciting things to write about!

Also, this might be one of my last posts. I am going on a safari next week. I know you’re jealous so don’t even try to act like you aren’t!

Duke's in the Championship!

I think it has been a while since the last time I posted something on here. Sorry about that, but it is hard to follow stories of shake downs and stare downs with anything. Sadly, this post is not much better, but because a few woman (And you know exactly who you are, so don’t play innocent) won’t get off my back about updating it then the rest of you will have to suffer through a lackluster post. These past couple of weeks have been challenging and rewarding, relaxing and stressful, typical and completely unexpected, and I can’t think of any other opposing adjectives to throw in. I will do my best to explain each of these in some form or another, but because I know myself, I probably won’t because I will go off on some erroneous (never thought I’d use that word…I like it, so I may continue to use it now) tangent and get confused on my original intention.

I say that it has been challenging for some obvious reasons and some not so apparent to the eye. Working with youth, no matter if they are wealthy, at-risk, high-risk, middle-class, etc. is always a challenge. It is no different with these guys. We set up appointments on Mondays to meet, and when their appointment comes they are nowhere to be found. I anticipated this early on, but for the past two weeks I have been chasing down guys all over Manenberg. This has placed me in awkward situations in people’s houses I don’t know or attempting to ask people on the side of the street, which is always a challenge. Mix this in with a stomach virus and you have yourself quite the recipe for a frustrating time. I quickly became very irritated and upset because I was so set on coming over here and meeting with these guys every week, but that just hasn’t happened. Now, if I meet with one of them a week then it was a good week. Now for those of you who are questioning if I even do anything because I am only meeting with one person a week, you are allowed your right to question, but there is still plenty of work for me to accomplish! It has been a rewarding couple of weeks because we have made pretty legitimate relationships with a new group of guys. They invited me to play street soccer with them this week, and whenever you get invited by a gang member to do anything then you know you’ve done something right! I am excited to see where this goes in the future!

I have had a relaxing past couple of weeks because on the weekends I have been able to go to the beach and just unwind. I have found that the hardest part of this whole trip for me is processing everything that I hear. Friday I may have had the best Good Friday ever. I drove to a beach and packed myself a picnic and then I sat and wrote in my journal and listened to music for a good 3 hours. It is times like these that I love being alone, but since I’ve been alone for a solid 3 months now, I am looking forward to seeing friends and family! I have been housesitting this past week for a World Cup referee and his wife (cool huh?) and in that they have allowed me to use their car (scary huh?). This has been one of the greatest blessings I could have asked for at this time. That car has given me a sense of freedom that I haven’t had since January! I have been able to go to the beach, Robben Island (Where Nelson Mandela spent a chunk of his life, I saw his cell too, pretty incredible experience), City Bowl, The Waterfront, etc. It has been an incredible weekend! But just as it has been a great weekend, it has also been a stressful one as well. I have been working to complete a few assignments that are proving to be more difficult than they should and that is weighing on me. Also, I found out two days ago that the family I am staying with got evicted from their house. Well, maybe not evicted, but have to move out by Tuesday! This would be fine if they had a house in mind, but they don’t! This may frighten some of you, but please don’t worry because this is typical of my life over here so I am rolling with it! We have had a few good laughs already about it!

Lately I have been thinking about the power of God. It has truly blown me away. Not that he has all power and never relinquishes any of it. Not that he doesn’t use that power against us, but for us. No, these principles floor me, but aren’t what I’m specifically dealing with now. The fact that he entrusts that power to us and that the same power that healed, the same power that caused the blind to see, the same power that caused the lame to walk, the same power that turned a sack lunch into a Ryan’s Buffet, the same power that walked on water, the same power that conquered the grave, that power lives in me! Christianity is often times made out to be boring. If you go to church and do your best to be good in the eyes of others then you are a Christian. If you are in a Sunday School class and serve in some leadership capacity then you are a good Christian. I am not writing that off by any means, but that is boring!! What if we lived like we had that power? It excites me, because I have seen that power from time to time in my life, and since I’ve been over here I have seen it more because I have had no other choice but rely on him, and because of that I have seen his glory.

This weekend I have been most blown away by one thing. It was this weekend that we saw God’s power and love meet. I can’t expound on that.

So I apologize that this post was not the typical satirical masterpiece that you are familiar with. It isn’t that fun things haven’t happened, it is just that I can’t write about them on here! Ha. Joke mom. Kinda. Well, if you don’t here from me for another couple of weeks I apologize. It’s not because I don’t want to post on here or anything, but because I am busy moving to another house!

The title has no relevance to anything in the post, but I just thought it should be noted!

Parental Guidance Advised: I Get a Bit 'Frisky' Here

I feel like a little bit of honesty is always appreciated in life right? Well, I am writing this message as I fight off a battle going on in my stomach with whatever that was that I just ate for dinner. Food is made to go down the stomach, not the other way, and I feel that the ‘other way’ is fast approaching. I have found that taking my mind off of it helps. Yes, I have had enough experience with this issue over here that I have come up with my own home remedies! In all honesty the food is great, I just struggle with some particular meals maybe! Anyways, I mentioned a little bit of honesty and that was quite a bit. I apologize for those of you running to the bathroom now! If only you could see what I ate and then would you really be running! Wow, I need to get to the point or I am going to lose all my faithful blog followers!

I wrote a few weeks back about Mondays and the battle therein. Most of you might remember that excerpt better from the haircut with a nice topping of grease, but it ultimately pointed to how God continues to deliver me from Monday mornings. I don’t want to limit Him to Mondays, actually, when He does far beyond that, but for my stories sake just go with it. Thanks. Well yesterday made for yet another interesting story to tell on here (Which is what I am always after mind you, a good story for the blog…in those three dots right there please pick up that sarcasm in that last clause, you may place it in the garbage bin on your way out.)

Well, this Monday started off very similar to most other Mondays. It actually ended fairly normally as well with me watching Days of our Lives and Oprah as usual, dinner at 7ish, and then soccer at 10. Oprah was in rare form yesterday talking about some woman who got her face mauled off by a chimp, but I still only see dollar bills whenever I see that woman so I have a hard time hearing her sympathy for others. Not sure where that came from. How do I go on tangents when I’m writing? Anywho, it was in my afternoon in Manenberg that the excitement took place. I usually go on Mondays to remind the guys when we are meeting during the week because chances are they have forgotten over the weekends. I am fine with this as it gives me more opportunities to be with them in their home environment and I also just enjoy being in Manenberg. I was talking with one of the guys on the corner and he skated away and left me with his buddy that I did not know. Well, I was content to chat with this guy and he and I began to have a conversation about his life. He has a pretty typical story it seems. He was married but then divorced because he couldn’t hold a job, now lives with his mom; it wasn’t his fault that he lost his job, etc. I was enjoying our conversation because he had these great pictures of what America was like. He assumed that Texas and Tennessee were the same place and I pretty much just went with it because trying to explain otherwise is way to difficult and it really doesn’t matter. He assumed that I must be a cowboy and know how to rope and spit and stuff. Role-playing is a social work intervention technique so I just assumed the role. Around this time about 5 cop cars swing down Storm’s River road and start pulling off the road. One truck stops right beside us and the officers storm out of the car and tell everyone to get against the wall. I sort of look around in confusion as my new friend kinda laughs, but in a still serious tone says to get against the wall. I saw this as an incredible cultural experience so I did. If someone could have taken a photo of this I would have paid big bucks for it! 5 or 6 coloured gang members or drug dealers and my new friend and I against the wall! The officer begins to pat me down (slightly enjoyed this, only because I am tickalish) and asks me what I am doing here. I told here that I was a missionary (somewhat true, but once again, I just went with the easy answer. I felt that if I tried to explain that I was a social work student working with High Risk Youth she might just pistol-whip me). And by the way I keep saying she…it was a she, yes, but one of those women whose husbands stay at home and haven’t uttered a word in years out of fear of being smacked. I mean she was like 3 of me, 4 if I just left the restroom. Regardless, after I told her I was a missionary she responded by saying, “I don’t care.” And this is where Smart Alec Tobey almost made an unwelcome appearance and responded to her statement by saying, “Then why’d ya ask, Sharlene?” (Her name wasn’t Sharlene, but it fit her…her personality?) Well, she continued to pat me down and I continued to fight back laughter because she was touching my bum. (I imagine she enjoyed it. I had done my daily squats just minutes before her arrival.) Then we she realized that I was not packing anything (outside of my huge muscles of course) or storing any drugs ‘she’ went on her way. As all this was going on my supervisor was down the road in his car watching all of this. He found it appropriate to honk his horn as frequently as possible to provoke laughter. Totally unprofessional.

The rest of the day went pretty normally. I had lunch with 3 gang members and drug dealers. One of them looked me dead in the eyes and told me if he had to he would kill me. I told him he’d have to catch me first because I am extra quick. He laughed. It was a good day. And I’m not lying about anything here, I mean I know I can embellish a story with the best of ‘em, but seriously do you think anyone can make up that type of stuff? Didn’t think so. Enjoy your day. Take advantage of each moment.

By the way...I spent more time thinking of a clever title than I did the rest of this deal so please find that funny.

If you are having a bad day imagine me slapping 'Sharlene' on her bum after I was finished with the pat down and telling her, "Good work out there Tiger. Keep up the good sweat." Not sure where that came from, but that kept going through my head as she patted me down!

I kept this one short!

Psalm 46:10

Be still and know that I am God;

I will be exalted among the nations,

I will be exalted in the earth.

A well-known verse from scripture, I realize this, but in the same regard, often overlooked. I know for me that I often reflect on the ‘be still’ section and often times I fail to recognize the importance of the rest. It did not take me coming to Africa to realize that the nations exalt the Lord, but it definitely gave me insight into this incredible truth. As you prepare your hearts for worship with other believers tomorrow morning I want you to think on this truth and be very happy. By the time you make it to church tomorrow morning the believers in China will have started off this day of world exaltation to the Lord…twice, if they are Southern Baptist Chinese. Soon after them the believers in the Middle East and others will continue what was already started from those to their east. After that I will be joining in on this world worship session with the rest of Africa and other parts of England. Then if there are any believers in the Atlantic at the moment they may join in on this celebration. And then it is America’s turn to praise the Lord. Rest easy knowing that you are just joining in on the song that has been sung all day. You aren’t just making noise in the Lord’s ear, but you are fulfilling His very words. That excites me. And it happens every week. Sometimes twice a week. And if West Jackson had a say into all this it would be 3 times a week, because we all know that G.R.O.W. counts as well. If only Brother Lonnie could get a hold of those numbers. Okay, now I am just ruining any point I was attempting to make before.

Challenge to those of you in the Americas…finish the celebration well!

So this one I rambled more that usual. Sorry?

I have been challenged by plagues of doubt and a lack of confidence my entire life. I know you ask yourself how this is so with my incredible body, harmonic and melodious voice, and of course my immense amount of friends. I just checked on facebook and it appears that I now have 1,345 friends and I am positive that anyone of those individuals would come to me at any moment of distress. Now, before those of you who are not familiar with my sarcasm let me stop before you cast your judgment on me! (I apologize for always having these ridiculous rambling sessions on here by the way. I write like I think, which doesn’t necessarily conform to what your typical blog holds!) Anyways, back to the initial statement. I have lived the bulk of my life attempting to please everyone around me and gain validation by doing things that I know will be acceptable to them. Because of this I have gained an incredible ability to know what is expected of me from people before I have a relationship with them, but on the opposite side of the spectrum, I now have no confidence as to who I am. I have become who everyone has wanted me to be and I used the passage of scripture in 1 Corinthians 9 to rationalize this.

Before you comment on my ignorance let me beat you to the punch…I’m partially an idiot. I often reflect on how my confidence should be placed in God. I daily realize that my every need can be met in God. I know that God is faithful. I know that I should not be concerned with the thoughts of others. I know all of this. But knowing and believing are two vastly different principles. I have come to a point in my life where I have had to admit that I do not believe. And before you all start booking flights to South Africa with your holy water to drown out all my unbelief let me finish! I don’t want to step on any toes here, but I imagine I am not the only one here either who struggles with not believing. It is simple. If we did believe what we know then we wouldn’t be concerned our different standards of measurement in the Church or our spiritual lives, but we would be blown away by the faithfulness of God. So often we write off the sections of scripture that speak about God ‘moving mountains’ or we see how Jesus performed miracles and we leave it there. The same God who moved those mountains and raised the dead is the same God we sing to on Sunday mornings and often forget by Monday morning. I know I am not the only one who doesn’t fully believe. If I was then I would be hearing story after story of the faithfulness of the One we serve. I want to be so crazy and foolish as to believe that God is capable of physically moving a mountain. I want to be so dumb as to believe that God can change the district of Manenberg from the drug and gang infested land to a place of love. God how I desire that stupidity associated with the truth that you could raise my grandmother or grandfather or high school friend from the grave and restore them if it were to be in accordance with your will.

And from there stems my lack of confidence in myself. I have spent my life searching for something to put my confidence in and I have come up empty. To put my confidence in God seems foolish, even in the church today. And because of this it has begun to permeate into the smaller areas of my life. I have this overwhelming sense of inadequacy everyday. I am aware that a bit of this feeling is healthy to keep one from becoming prideful, but I have far surpassed this healthy spirit of meekness. I doubt every ability that God has blessed me with. But it’s those moments that I latch on to what God has called me to and it is in those moments that I am confident of one truth only. I am loved by the Father.

I fear that my thoughts and rants may seem like rubbish and disorienting to you, but this is flowing perfectly to me. I want to make the disclaimer that I am not writing off the church by any means! I realize that I am making generalizations here. I am also not writing from some spiritual ‘high’ because I am in another country. It didn’t take me traveling to Africa to realize my lack of confidence in God. Enough with the apologetics. I am reminded of the verses you see written above on the header. I have prayed these verses for some time now, but I am constantly drawn to the first verse. …his praise will always be on my lips…I may doubt my own ability, (good!), but when I realize what my God is capable of then the natural result is unending praise! The week before I came over here we sang a hymn that I was not familiar with. This could be a result of my charismatic lifestyle of worship that has almost gotten me disowned by my parents because I like a nice drumbeat and the words on the screen, not a book! Okay, another line of sarcasm there, I apologize! Anyways, the hymn is called There is a Fountain. I won’t try and add my thoughts to this declaration of hope, but I want to point out a few things. I want you to notice the succession of hope strung through each stanza, and the last two stanzas are what have encouraged me. And this is beside any point that I am trying to convey, (you are probably used to that by now!), but the first verse is disturbing! Has anyone ever stopped to think about what we are singing? I don’t know many other genres that sing of fountains filled with blood, yet we sing it so loudly and sometimes a little off-pitch (Carroll Griffin) as if it were our life theme. Maybe that’s because we know it should be…deep down.

There is a fountain filled with blood,

Drawn from Immanuel’s veins,

And sinners plunged beneath that flood


Lose all their guilty stains.

The dying thief rejoiced to see


That fountain in His day;

And there have I, though vile as he,

Washed all my sins away.

Dear dying Lamb, Thy precious blood


Shall never lose its pow’r,

Till all the ransomed church of God


Are safe, to sin no more.

E’er since by faith I saw the stream


Thy flowing wounds supply,

Redeeming love has been my theme,

And shall be till I die.

When this poor, lisping, stamm’ring tongue


Lies silent in the grave,

Then in a nobler, sweeter song,

I’ll sing Thy pow’r to save.

God,

I may never fill the pages of a book with deep insights, I may never coin a song with eloquent words, I may never be able to paint pictures of your love, but I will never cease to let your praise be on my lips.

Redeeming love has been my theme, and shall be till I die. And shall be till I die. I’m not confident of much, but you can take that to the bank.

Well, maybe not the bank. They seem to be struggling as of late. Maybe just put it in a jar and bury it. That last line was unnecessary. I don’t know why I am leaving it. Sometimes I dislike myself…this is one of those times!

Sorry for the long post! This always serves as a good outlet for the things I am thinking about. There is so much more, but this has been on my heart for a while. Maybe one day soon I will give you a typical blog post informing you of what I am doing each day like I am probably supposed to be doing!

Gideon's Battle Before the Battle

I was a part of a Bible Study today with 3 of the guys from M'Berg. A question that I had been thinking about and dealing with a great deal recently was brought up to the guys. I now pose that same question to you.

What do you think of yourself?

Now what does God think of you?

The main reason I put this up here is because I am reflecting on the second question. I have reflected far too often on the first and allowed the enemy to answer that question for me. No wonder I live in a world of insecurities. He is the father of lies, but it is amazing how I have seen walls crumble down in my life and others when I speak the Truth into those areas. If you don't know the answer to the second question ask God. Ask and then listen. He answers. Simple as that. Don't count Him out.

The story of Gideon in Judges 6 may be helpful.

Or Moses.

Or Noah.

Or Jonah.

Or Paul.

Or ________

I tamed that Lion

Monday mornings, I have decided, are a thing of the devil himself. He smiles in joyful glee as he watches me strain to roll out of bed. He finds an even bigger delight in giving me excuse upon excuse as to why I shouldn’t go to work each morning and laughs as I consider each one as if it were truth. But the beautiful thing about Monday mornings is that the afternoon is following swiftly behind! And it isn’t that God isn’t present in those mornings, because He is actually more present than the devil, but in that moment of weakness my foolish mind chooses to listen to the lies of the devil. The reason I give you this ridiculously unneeded introduction is to illustrate how my Monday would have been ruined had I listened to said ‘liar’ and not risen from my slumber!

I hate waking up. For some reason I thought that would miraculously change in Africa. I’m incredibly foolish, yes, I am well aware of this. This past Monday morning, or yesterday, was not different. Waking up was the last thing on my mind as my dreams of wrestling the lions (and winning I may add) came to a resounding end as that awful alarm rang its hideous melody. Despite my best efforts I woke up and did my best to take a shower, which usually results in more soap left in my hair and on my body then should be the case for a young adult. I dreaded the day ahead instead of embracing this incredible opportunity coming my way. It’s the way I handle mornings, I am not proud of it. But on this Monday I was unconsciously setting God up to show out in an incredible way. (I don’t know that this logic of “setting God up” is theologically sound, actually, it is probably far from sound and I don’t suggest it on any level.) This day, you see, gave me something to put in this blog! Ha.

My first experience was an experience at best! My hair had been getting quite long and doing this awkward thing in the back where it seemed to stand at attention and wave at those behind me. I decided that I needed a trim, and then it occurred to me that I could not just get out my clippers as I usually do. I thought long and hard about this, much longer and much harder than was needed for a haircut, but decided that I would make a trip out of this and do it in Manenberg. I’ve had good ideas in the past, like attempting to break the sweet tea drinking record at Lambert’s Café or “roughing it” by setting up a tent inside because it was far too chilly outside, but this trumped them all. This seemed revolutionary to me. To the best of my knowledge no white man has ever undertaken such a task as this, and I was going to show how courageous I was and just do it. So I did just that. I went to one of the local barbers, waited in the que, line, and sat there…awkwardly. There were about 10 men waiting to get their hair cut and all 10 immediately stopped talking when I sat down. Staring would be an understatement. Twice I went to get in the chair and twice I quickly sat back down because I was jumping the line. They were kind enough to give me a glare to let me know. When my turn finally arrived I tried at least 5 times to tell him I wanted the same haircut he had given to the previous 10 guys but there seemed to be some trouble in translation. Finally, after using hand signals the actual cutting began to take place. It went as one would expect it to go until the very end when my man reached for the grease. I thought about stopping him, but decided that this may be pretty interesting so I gave it a go. As he attempted to put the grease through my hair you could see the look of confusion on his face. I think he tried to stop it, but he couldn’t keep from smiling sheepishly! All in all, I claimed my spot as the first white man to get his haircut in Manenberg, most likely.

The second thing that made my Monday great was the evening. I won’t go into some long drawn out story as before because I don’t think my words can describe this. I had the opportunity to climb Lion’s Head Mountain. One side of this mountain overlooks Camp’s Bay and the Atlantic Ocean and the other overlooks Cape Town. It is tradition to climb it on a full moon here so I decided to join in. I watched the sun set over the ocean and the moonrise over the city. It was incredible! Hopefully these pictures will do some justice for the experience I had!

My mindset of Monday was changed in these moments. I anxiously anticipate how God will ruin the devil's schemes in Mondays to come...and any other day for that matter!

I love you all…well actually I don’t know if I can honestly write that. I don’t know who all comes across this and I might not love you. I think it is safe to assume that I would most likely get along with you, but to take it to the next level and drop the ‘L-word’ may be moving a little to fast. Okay let’s try again. I most likely like you all and I appreciate you putting up with these absurd postings!

Sien jou gou. Totsiens!