More Than Fine…

Beautiful Noise

// October 18th, 2009 // 8719 Comments »http://www.chrissulli.com/beautiful-noise/Beautiful+Noise2009-10-18+13%3A10%3A58chrissulli // Uncategorized

Ever notice something but not sure what to learn from it? As I sit here on the roof at the mission house trying to find some white space and do some reading and journaling, I’m amazed by how many inputs we have. I flipped the light switch on as I walked up the stairs to the roof and watched as the light instantly faded the stars from my vision. I flipped the switch back and forth a couple times just to internalize and process the stark contrast. I didn’t really know what to make of the observation and as I sit here writing stream of conscious, maybe I’m still not.

When I sat down to write, I put in my headphones but as I got comfortable, one fell out. With one headphone dangling and the other resting snuggly in my ear, one filled with crickets and the other with Matt Redman, I was struck again by the contrast. The easy lesson lesson is we have too much “noise” in our lives, but right now I feel like the lesson is that we have choices. There is nothing wrong with the light and the ipod, nor the stars and crickets. Each is beautiful. Each is very different. Each has its time and place.

Maybe we just need to learn the things that are right for us, the things that bring us closest to God, makes us aware of his presence and put us in a position of worship but we also have to be wise enough to remember the beauty we’ve drowned out or turned off and know when to change things up and how to appreciate things other than the familiar.

Just some thoughts.

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Things Aren’t Always As They Appear

// October 2nd, 2009 // 8411 Comment »http://www.chrissulli.com/things-arent-always-as-they-appear/Things+Aren%26rsquo%3Bt+Always+As+They+Appear2009-10-02+18%3A34%3A51chrissulli // Uncategorized

One of the things I noticed when I first arrived in the Dominican was the players hear just didn’t seem to work that hard. A lot of young men here push the chips all in on baseball at very early age. You would think that would make them hungrier, but that didn’t seem to be the case. I was expecting them to be working every bit as hard as I worked as an athlete in the States if not harder. I had a fall back when I was playing. I was playing for fun. They are playing to make a living, to find a way out. So it bothered me that they often seemed nonchalant. Then I realized they were… hungry. Not hungry to become baseball players but hungry for the basic nutrition that we take for granted back in the States. Of course they weren’t working that hard, they hadn’t eaten. That broke my heart and provided me a large amount of guilt for judging their effort without fully understanding.

What experiences do you have with things not being as they appear at first glance? What complications did that cause or how did you remedy the situation?

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Baseball? Nah, I’ll Preach

// September 29th, 2009 // 8316 Comments »http://www.chrissulli.com/baseball-nah-ill-preach/Baseball%3F+Nah%2C+I%26rsquo%3Bll+Preach2009-09-29+13%3A00%3A00chrissulli // Uncategorized

Guest post by Sarah M. Salter www.sarahsalter.com. This is the perspective I want for our players in I Love Baseball.

Cheesy was one of our translators on my second short term medical mission to the Dominican Republic.  His real name is Isai (pronounced EE-SY by the correct, EE-ZEE by the lazy and that’s where they got Cheesy from).  When Isai stepped on our bus with the other translators at the airport, we all sort of laughed and stared for two reasons.  First, he had the biggest, cheesiest grin that we’d ever seen.  And second, he was tall.  WAY tall.  In a country where most men are below average for height, Isai is 6′7". 

All week, I worked on the other side of the clinic from Isai.  He translated for the children’s ministry station.  I was the pharmacist and translated for the pharmacy.  And on the rare occasion that I would get a chance to look up from the pharmacy table, I would look around and see Isai standing head and shoulders above everyone else with a huge cheesy grin on his face.  Even in a 100+ degree room, with hundreds of sweating and irritable people, his smile just sort of lifted the burden.  What a blessing!

Wednesday afternoon when we were on the hour bus ride home from the clinic, I heard the host missionary say to her sixteen-year-old son, "I’m so sorry about Isai." 

I snapped to attention.  "What about Isai?"

"He was being scouted by three different US professional baseball teams, but he injured his shoulder.  He’s not going to be able to play."

My heart broke a little and I turned in the seat so that I could turn around and see Cheesy where he sat in the back of the bus with our teenagers.  He caught my eyes and smiled and waved.  I smiled and waved back, then turned back around to sit and look out the window.

"Lord, I know he must hurt over this.  How can he be so happy when his dreams are gone?"

God didn’t answer me really.  But seeing the joy that Cheesy had, I couldn’t really be sad for him.  His smile went all the way to his eyes and to his soul.  I could tell that he wasn’t faking it or putting on a front.  So, that gave me peace that he wasn’t crushed over his situation.  And if he wasn’t crushed, I wasn’t going to mourn the loss for him.

For the rest of the week, I looked for a chance to talk to Isai.  To see how he had coped with the death of his dreams.  He was so popular and outgoing and surrounded by people that I had trouble getting to him.  But finally on Friday at the end of our short lunch break, I saw him sitting with only the missionary’s son.

I didn’t know how if he would appreciate me putting my nose in his business, so I was a bit timid.  "Hey, Cheesy, I heard about your shoulder.  About how you hurt it and the doctors said you couldn’t play baseball anymore…" 

I kind of trailed off.  I didn’t know where to go from there…  How to ask my question…  But he picked up where I stopped.

"Sarita, Jesus heal my shoulder.  I work hard.  He heal my shoulder.  I can play again."  He touched his shoulder and smiled, then went back to eating.

"You can play?"

He looked up at me and smiled.  "Yes.  I can play.  I work hard.  Jesus heal me.  I can play."  He turned back to his chicken and rice, and then he turned back around to face me with a serious look.  "But I don’t know if I going to play.  I think I become pastor for my people."

"You want to preach, Cheesy?"

His smile got huge again.  "YES!  I LOVE to preach!" 

This time when he turned back to his chicken and rice, I let him.  A growing boy needs to eat.  Especially if he’s gonna have the energy to preach.

Sarah M. Salter

www.sarahsalter.com

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Two Months In Review

// September 28th, 2009 // 8373 Comments »http://www.chrissulli.com/two-months-in-review/Two+Months+In+Review2009-09-28+13%3A00%3A00chrissulli // Uncategorized

This was written for The Buzz (the monthly newsletter at South Tampa Fellowship). It may or may not have been published yet but wanted to share it with everyone following along on the blog.

As I’m closing in on two months in the Dominican Republic, it is difficult to try to put my trip thus far into perspective. It has been both exciting and boring. It has been rewarding and frustrating. It has taught me patience but that patience turns quickly into apathy. I’ve learned to appreciate cultural differences but also that sometimes we can’t accept certain aspects of a culture. Sometimes we have to say change. I’ve learned a lot of Spanish. I learned how to play baseball. I learned how to dance bachata. I’ve played a lot of different roles here. I’m a consultant. I’m an English teacher. I’m a blogger. I’m a first basemen. I’m a videographer. I’m a teammate, a friend, a brother, a sponsor.

I Love Baseball truly is an amazing program. I love our coaches. I love our kids. The longer I’m here and the more people I talk to, the more I realize how unique our program is. For those of you who don’t know, we work with young men whose dream is to play professional baseball. Most, if not all, of them will fail. You probably will never see any of them on a major league roster, although I pray a couple them will roam a minor league field near you someday. Our goal, while helping them pursue their dream, is to build up Godly men who will transform their communities. Normally, many of these young men would leave home at 13 or 14 (or earlier), abandon their education, move to Santo Domingo and pursue their dream of becoming a professional baseball player. When 99.9% of them fail, they return home with no education and no real options. Most of them have neglected their studies for to long for returning to school to be viable. I Love Baseball keeps these young men at home in Barahona and provides them the same training and opportunity to be signed that they would have in Santo Domingo. But while they are training, we are  holding them accountable in school, they attend a devotional every morning before practice and are being mentored and discipled by our coaches.

The Holy Spirit has really been working on me since I’ve been here. Life in the DR is slow. I’m so accustomed to every minute of life being busy that I’ve struggled to be a good steward of my time. Lost minutes became lost hours and the Holy Spirit has been teaching me that I don’t always need to be doing something for God but that I need to fill the those wasted minutes with Him and just spend time with Him. At the same time, he has been teaching me that there is a time for action and that when God says go nothing can stop us and the victory is already ours.

I guess the best way to summarize my trip is to say that I’ve learned a lot and I’m happy I’m not coming home yet. I’m looking forward to the slow times, when I get to just stop and enjoy God’s presence but I’m also looking forward to when God says go and I get the privilege of being part of the amazing work that God is doing in the lives of these young men.

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Disconnected…

// September 27th, 2009 // 8323 Comments »http://www.chrissulli.com/disconnected/Disconnected%26hellip%3B2009-09-27+13%3A00%3A00chrissulli // Uncategorized

Back in the States I’m plugged in all the time. If I’m not in front of a computer, I have email and internet on my Blackberry. Going days without internet or having internet for half an hour a day is weird. It is different and I feel like I’m missing out. I’m feel like I’m missing out on opportunities to influence and share with others. I’m missing out on opportunities to develop relationships. It is in the engagement with others that we learn and grow. It is in the conversations, critiques and insights we receive from others that we learn. While all that is going on, we are building relationships. So for me just throwing up blog posts so you guys have the opportunity to read my brilliance and know what is going on over here is unfulfilling because I can’t really engage and I don’t like it.

I’ve learned a lot from being disconnected for the last two months and in many ways it has been healthy and educational. But I’m ready for it to be over. I’m ready to share everything I’m learning over here in real time, tell the amazing stories that are going on over here, but most importantly be able to interact, to have conversations that will spark ideas that will become reality.

I need internet. I’m ready.

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