Author: Amy Medina Page 76 of 233

Am I White Savior Barbie?

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On May 12, 2016

In Thoughts on Missions

Ummm.  Uh oh.

Okay, so I chose that picture for my last post because it was the most cliched missionary picture I could find.   I suppose I could have picked a picture of myself with random African Orphans.  I’ve got lots of those too.

Shoot.  I even wear headbands made of local fabric. 

In case you have no idea what I am talking about, White Savior Barbie has been going viral on social media.  I’m not sure if she’s only popular in my part of the world, or if you have seen her too.  

“Just taking a selfie amidst this dire poverty and need.  Feeling so blessed!”

“Although children with flies swarming their faces are relatively rare here, it’s important to portray this as the norm.”  

“Who needs a formal education to teach in Africa?  Not me!  All I need is some chalk and a dose of optimism.”  

Thankfully, my total lack of fashion sense (and ownership of zero high heels) will never allow me to be confused with Barbie.  But even as I am highly amused by the creativity of this account, it still makes me squirm.  


And so it should, along with every other non-African visitor on this continent.  

Am I White Savior Barbie?  

Am I here just to feel good about myself?  

Do I see myself as better than Tanzanian citizens, as having the answers that they don’t have?  

Do I pity the local people?  Do I see my life as so much better than theirs?

Is living in Tanzania all about creating a unique identity for myself?

As a 7th grader growing up in west Africa, I wrote in my journal, Liberia is me.  I belong here.  I loved the uniqueness of my life.  My heart was torn by the poverty I saw around me.  And I did want to grow up and make a difference.

So perhaps there is a bit of White Savior Barbie in me after all.

Or rather, perhaps there was.  After living on this continent for half of my life, my idealism has been shredded by the reality of life.  I’ve witnessed the damage done by those who went before me.  I’ve come face to face with the complexity of poverty.  I’ve experienced how brokenness breeds more brokenness.  I have been beaten down by my own weakness, by my inability to live for a week without electricity, my lack of endurance in the suffocating heat, my discontented heart with the roads or the water or the bugs.  

I’m quite certain I don’t have the answers.  In fact, I’m no longer sure that I have any answers.  I no longer worry about idealism clouding my thinking; instead I worry about cynicism preventing me from persevering.  Am I even supposed to be here?  Wouldn’t it be better if I just left?

But maybe that’s why I need to stay.  Because I’m in that place of knowing I have nothing; I am nothing.  I look up from the dust and I see that there is a specific need that Gil and I can fill, and that God has uniquely placed us to fill it at this time and in this way.  So I stay.  For now.


When I came to you, I did not come with eloquence or human wisdom as I proclaimed to you the testimony about God.  For I resolved to know nothing while I was with you except Jesus Christ and him crucified.  I came to you in weakness with great fear and trembling….so that your faith might not rest on human wisdom, but on God’s power. (I Corinthians 2)

So we limp on.  And that would be my advice to all the other White Savior Barbies out there:  Allow yourself to be broken and to be emptied.  It will take a whole lot longer than weeks or months or even years.  Sticking it out long term, with an attitude of humility, is how God just might be able to use you.  And your pictures will never be able to tell that story.  

American Christians, You Might Need to Start Living Like Missionaries

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On May 5, 2016

In American Worldview, Living Like a Missionary in America, Thoughts on Missions

“I’m moving to Canada.”

Personally, Canada would be way too cold for me, but I get the sentiment.  However, instead of fleeing for the hills, maybe it’s time for American Christians to start living like missionaries in their own country.

Before you get offended, let me assure you that I am in no way belittling the millions of American Christians who are already living out gospel-centered lives in their communities.  As you learned in Sunday School when you were five, we all are missionaries.

But I’m not talking about living as a proclaimer of the gospel, I’m talking about living as if America is not your country.  As outsiders.  Exiles.  As if you are living in a country that is not your own.  

This is my life.

I live in a country that is not mine.  But I am living in Tanzania as a long-term resident, so I care about what happens here.  I prayed during the election.  I follow the news.  I rejoice with their successes and hurt for their losses.  But this is not my country.   I don’t expect that my political opinion matters much.  I am not surprised if I experience animosity.  I don’t expect to have many rights.  I do expect to feel like an outsider.  

It means that if I see things happening in Tanzania that I don’t like, I’m not going to be angry that my rights have been violated.  This country has never existed for my sake.  I might be sad, or frustrated, or I might be angry at the injustice others are experiencing.  But this country doesn’t owe me anything.

This means that I am here as a learner.  It doesn’t mean that I am going to agree with everything I see in this culture, but it does mean that I am going to do everything I can do understand it.  I want to understand the worldview.  I’m going to filter what I see in this culture through the lens of Scripture.  I’m not going to assume that my way of doing things, or my way of thinking about something, is the best.  If something bothers me, I will wait to make a judgment until I have considered what the Bible says about it.  

I’m not going to hole up in a little community that believes everything the same way I do.  I don’t sequester my children from people with different values or religions.  My children might end up exposed to things that distress me, but I must trust God’s sovereignty with that.  The alternative is to lose our ability to be light in our community.

I’m not looking for what I can get out of this country; I am looking for what I can give.  I don’t expect businesses and government agencies to value the same things I do.  I might be limited in the kind of work I can do here because my values are different.  But that’s okay, because my goal isn’t to get rich, or to be safe, or to build my career.  My goal is to further the gospel.

I expect that I am not going to be comfortable all the time.  I will have to make sacrifices of comfort and convenience for the sake of God’s work.  I realize that I will never be able to own a house here, and I know that there’s always a possibility that I will have to leave with the shirt on my back.  I try hard to loosen my grip on my possessions, knowing that my stay here is temporary.

Above all else, I am going to do my best to love the people around me.  That doesn’t mean that I unconditionally accept, or approve of, everything they are doing.  Love and acceptance are not always synonymous.  However, love is patient, kind, humble, generous, and long-suffering.  I can love people in the way I spend my time, in the way I spend my money, in the way I engage discussion, and in the attitude I take towards culture.  Even if people disagree with what I think, I want my reputation to always be as someone who loves.

All these people were still living by faith when they died.  They did not receive the things promised; they only saw them and welcomed them from a distance, admitting that they were foreigners and strangers on earth…..Instead, they were longing for a better country–a heavenly one.  Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared a city for them.  (Hebrews 11)

When Johnny’s Eye Started Bleeding

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On May 2, 2016

In Other

Yesterday evening, our friend Mark and his daughter were over to watch the big game (Leicester vs. Manchester United, for those of you who appreciate these things).  Gil was trying to get the internet to work, and the kids were horsing around in the projector light.

Johnny had on a pair of plastic sunglasses, and he was pretending to rap the way his brother had in a class assembly last week.  Suddenly, we heard him scream.

Kids get hurt and cry all the time, but in those few moments, we realized quickly that this was not just a whiny cry.  And blood was trickling out of Johnny’s eye.  He had jabbed himself with the sunglasses.

Gil and I quickly rushed him to the bathroom.  His eye was bloodshot, and the blood was coming out of the corner.  Seconds later, his eyeball filled with blood.

I snatched my phone and called the emergency number for the medical clinic where we are members.  The doctor asked a few questions and then told us to bring him in.  Mark offered to take our other kids to his house, so we grabbed their toothbrushes and sent them in his car.  I was wearing shorts, which I have never worn out in public in this culture, so in a frenzy I found a wrap and my purse.  Five minutes after the accident, we were out the door.

I held Johnny’s head on my lap in the car while Gil frantically tried to push the car through the ever-present traffic.  About 20 minutes into the 45 minute trip, Johnny stopped crying.  I checked his eye, and it had stopped bleeding.  It was bloodshot and red, but the Darth Maul look was gone.

The doctor confirmed that he would be okay.  The accident had burst a blood vessel, and the blood had come out through his tear ducts, making it look a whole lot worse than it actually was.  We have to watch for infection, but he should be fine.

Though I don’t think about it too often, I’ve always had those what if moments thumping around in the back of my consciousness.  Last night, I wondered if one of those moments was actually happening.  Johnny’s adoption is not yet finalized.  Which means that he is not on our health insurance.  Which means that he doesn’t have a passport, so we would not be able to evacuate him in an emergency.

Though it is improving significantly, high quality healthcare is really limited here.  We are members of a great clinic, which allows us to use their 24-hour emergency number.  This is important because there is no 911, and if you want an ambulance service, you have to pay a hefty monthly fee.  Plus, we’ve never been convinced that an ambulance can get through Dar’s legendary traffic much faster than anyone else.  Anyone who can afford it gets evacuated to Kenya or South Africa in an emergency.

So even with my other children, who are on our insurance and do have passports, I’ve always wondered what exactly we would do in an emergency.  What if there were only minutes to spare?  What if even medical evacuation wasn’t fast enough?

Our kids have always been remarkably healthy, and this was our first semi-emergency for any of them.  In fact, the only other time we’ve used that emergency number in 12 years was for Gil.  But what if.  There’s a family serving in Mongolia–friends of friends–who are dealing with that reality right now with their sweet baby.  It happens.  It could happen to us.

I don’t have much choice, do I?  I can fret over all the things I will never be able to control, or I can trust the God who brought me to Tanzania, who gave me these children, and who knows every time a sparrow dies.  I know that he doesn’t guarantee that my children will always be healthy and safe.  But he does guarantee his presence and his goodness.

So today, I am thankful.  Thankful that we can afford the best clinic in town, that Johnny will be okay, and that my God is good.  All the time.  Even if the ending hadn’t been happy.

Read These Books

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On April 29, 2016

In Book Recommendations

My favorites from the last six months or so….

Elijah of Buxton by Christopher Paul Curtis

Elijah is a boy living in a Canadian colony of escaped American slaves.  This is a book for young people, but is so well written, highly entertaining, and deeply moving that I recommend it for adults as well.  Parts of it are emotionally intense (as a book on slavery should be), so we’re going to wait a year or so before letting Grace read it.  (She is ten but pretty sensitive.)  

Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows

If you like historical fiction, you will enjoy this post-World War II novel.  It’s full of fascinating historical detail, but also absolutely delightful storytelling.

What’s Your Worldview? by James Anderson

Anything with “worldview” in the title always captures my interest.  This one is particularly useful, as it reads like a “Choose Your Own Adventure” book, helping the reader to understand his own worldview.  This would be an especially good book for older teens and college students.  

Prayerby Timothy Keller

I read this one slowly, over about four months, because every time I would read a few pages, I would want to stop, digest, and remember what I just read.  I wanted to cling to every word; it was that good.  I highlighted about half the book.

Joy:  Poet, Seeker, and the Woman who Captivated CS Lewis by Abigail Santamaria

This book was fascinating!  The author digs deep into Joy’s story, bringing out detail not found in the sugar-coated Shadowlands.  Joy was a brilliant writer, but also an ex-communist, brash, somewhat rude and selfish woman who fell in love with (and pursued) C.S. Lewis while still married to her first husband.  How God used their relationship and her cancer to bring out the best in them both is a wonderful story of redemption.

The Pastor’s Kid by Barnabus Piper

John Piper’s son wrote a book about being a pastor’s kid.  This was a quick read, but useful for any parents who are involved in full-time ministry.  

Dreams of My Mothers by Joel L.A. Peterson

I read this one during our recent Zanzibar trip, and it’s the kind of book you don’t want to start unless you have a good chunk of time available–because you won’t be able to put it down.  This is a semi-autobiographical story of a Korean child adopted by American parents.  But instead of pretending that the child’s story began with his adoption (as happens often), the story gives equal time to his years living in Korea with his first mother.  The book is brutally heart-breaking but ultimately redemptive.  

*Please note:  This book contains strong language that may disturb sensitive readers.

In Defense of the Fatherless:  Redeeming International Adoption and Orphan Care by Sara Brinton and Amanda Bennett

So I know that I already plugged this book in my series on corruption in international adoption, but I just can’t shut up about how good it is.  If you, or any Christian you know, is involved in international adoption or orphan care (even in a small way), this is an absolute must-read.  No other book on adoption (and I’ve read dozens) even comes close to the importance of this one.

Jackson Got Married

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On April 24, 2016

In Other

Jackson is a student in our theological training program.

He and a few others have a ministry where they go to high schools all over Tanzania and teach about God’s plan for sex and marriage.  It’s pretty awesome, especially considering that adultery is pretty much expected around here, even in the church.

So we think Jackson is pretty great.  And when he got engaged to Jehovah, he asked our partners, Mark and Alyssa, to stand in as his surrogate parents for the wedding.  

Which then led to the wedding itself being held at our training center.  

Since in Tanzania, the groom’s friends and family plan the wedding, and Alyssa was the surrogate mother of the groom, she found herself thrust into the middle of wedding planning.  And I got to help her a little bit–in fact, I even had a title:  Secretary to the Mother of the Groom.  It’s a real thing over here, and it meant that I got to give the prayer at the reception.

As the secretary to the mother of the groom, I learned all sorts of important things about weddings in Tanzania, like you must have toothpicks to serve the wedding cake (which led to a mad scramble to find toothpicks), and the parents of the groom are supposed to give a gift to the parents of the bride (which led to a mad scramble to find a gift), and that we better have a pen ready because the marriage certificate is signed during the ceremony.

It was one of those really happy days.

(Gil is not in any of these pictures because he was behind the camera.  Didn’t he do a great job?)

The secretary and the “mother” of the groom
The best dressed guys at the wedding.  (Just don’t mind the shoes.)

His “Aunt” Lauren
Photobomb #1
Photobomb #2 (Johnny ended up in a LOT of pictures)
After the ceremony, pretty much everything is about the dancing.  The bride and groom danced out of the car, the guests danced their way up to present their gifts, and everything in between.

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