On the way to Kenya, I watched “Ocean’s 13″ during one of the flights. If you’ve seen any of the “Ocean’s” movies, then you can guess the plot. Danny Ocean was at it again trying to break into a casino with his team to steal millions of dollars. The added bonus in this sequel was that they were also trying to steal very precious and extremely valuable diamonds. But getting those jewels was no easy task. The entire two-hour plot of the movie is centered around the dilemma of breaking through the impossible, one-of-a-kind, state-of-the-art security system to access the really valuable stuff.
As I arrived in the village, ready for my game of hide-and-seek with God, I soon found that movie plot to be an adequate metaphor for my first five days in Kenya. While everyone else was singing Africa’s praises (how could you not, really? Have you EVER met anyone who hated Africa?), I was trying to stand still and see straight. Somehow, when we landed, I started feeling dizzy. I mean really dizzy. Non-stop dizzy. Can’t focus on anyone-or-anything dizzy. For five days straight, Kenya was the spinning place. By the third day, the dizziness had stepped it up a notch and included nausea, a pounding headache, and vomiting. I was so weak on Sunday that I literally had to hold onto the table to avoid falling down while I was presenting in Sunday School. But by 9:30 am I had a break down and went to sleep. I didn’t wake up until 6:00 pm that night.
I’m still not sure if it was the altitude (we were above 7,000 feet), dehydration, a bug, or my malaria medicine. All I know if that I switched my malaria meds Sunday and my Tuesday I was feeling back to my normal self.
What I am sure about is that my sickness made my first five days in Kenya miserable and, well, to be honest, I hated Africa. I was separated from the team, unable to really see where we were or meet any of the wonderful people. I was unable to participate or give in any way. Had I really traveled across the world for God to lock me in my room for a few days and humble me? Beyond this, I was literally exhausting myself with paranoia about mosquitos, and frustration with the toilets and showers, or lack thereof (see the picture I’ve posted). Being sick is hard enough….imagine having to throw up in THAT toilet! As you can imagine, I opted for a trashcan. But I’ll spare you that picture. 
Still, in the midst of my misery, God was with me. I still sensed his presence even in my bed under my mosquito net. But I struggled with him. I had come ready to seek him and find him, and there I was lying in bed, exhausted and dizzy, and a little confused as to how to seek him like that. I felt more like I needed him to seek me out…to find me lying there and encourage my spirit and heal me.
But he brought to mind Ocean’s 13 (see, God likes the movies!). In a weird, and admittedly cheesy, way, I was having to push past the obstacles to God’s precious presence like Ocean’s men had to push past the casino’s security system. God was indeed hiding among the people of Kipkaren, but to access him took a little perseverance. I had to push past the sickness and the bathrooms, and the little mosquito guards to get to him.
God truly humbled me in my first few days in Kenya. I couldn’t give. I couldn’t feel valuable by what I did. I couldn’t even feel secure in God’s love by how well I was “seeking” him. All I could do was lie in bed, the room spinning around me, and call out to the God who promised to hear me, to guide me, and to be found. I often heard the praises of the others, in loud and vibrant African song, ringing through the training center like a soundtrack to my sickness. I wanted more than anything to be among the crowds, singing his praises with energy and joy. But in the midst of my isolation, God reminded me that he is the shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep to seek out the lost one. Before I could seek for God afresh, I needed him to come find me first. In my weakness, dizziness, inadequacies, confusion, and lonliness I needed not only to find where God was hiding…I needed to be found by Him too.
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