A tip o' th' hat to Bobby

I'd like to share my testimony: I wouldn't be here if it weren't for Bobby the blogangelist (p. b. u. h.). What a mentor he is for me in this brave new world where all are empowered to let their foolishness stream forth. I've got some foolishness of my own to add to the hobo stew; if you don't like the way it tastes, I guess Bobby is to blame. But then again, he's to blame for Bob and Greg too.

By the way, I mean that bit about campfires and bridges. Two things dear to my heart. From my childhood in Africa surface cherished memories of the starlit southern hemisphere, a majestic midnight blue canvas enveloping a world of adventure, danger, and peace. The night air alive with the sounds of insects, jackals, lions, owls. The nearby bushes concealing who knows what. And the light of the campfire radiating on the faces of those who love God's creation. I learned to listen to God there. I still long for those times. Grad school just isn't quite the same.

And bridges. Connections. I'm constantly pondering how to make new connections. How to connect people with Christ. (Ever read Bridges of God by Donald McGavran? I'm checking it out right now.) How to maintain bridges among Churches of Christ, left right and center. How to build bridges between Churches of Christ and other denominations. What types of bridges need to be built between America and Africa. How to build bridges of African Christians from other countries into Angola. How development may serve as integral parts of bridges among Angolan Christians. How seminary students like me can bridge the gap to normal life, normal people.

Campfires and bridges. My prayer is that both will be an honor to God. It is Him for whom I exist. I hope that's true for you too.