Category: How Americans Think

We Americans Are Far Too Easily Pleased

On May 10, 2017

I am a cheating American. I don’t deserve your sympathy.

When we’re in the States, Gil and I often comment at how much easier it is to live the Christian life when we are overseas. There’s something about being outside of our own culture that takes away much of the temptation to acquire more, to be more, and to over-indulge. You have no idea
what a blessed relief it is to be free from the constant barrage of television commercials, billboards, and the incessant push to buy more, more, more. There is something incredibly humbling in forging deep friendships with people who (materially) have so much less than we do, yet have relentless faith. And the times when we do go without electricity or safety or convenience have taught us much about contentment and perseverance. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.

But even if I have had the benefit of living a good portion of my life in a different country, at the end of the day, I still am American. Sure, I can reap the advantages of learning and growing from other cultures, but I still have my blue passport and my health insurance and my 18 pieces of luggage that I will lug back to Tanzania. Yep, 18 pieces, people. Sure, I can tell you that a lot of it is for HOPAC and other ministry purposes, but that’s still 900 pounds of Americanism that I will carry over the ocean. No, don’t elevate me for what I have given up. I am a cheater. I get the best of both worlds.

packing at the end of our home assignment in 2014

I have a love-hate relationship with America. I love all that’s good—all that I see that
sets America apart from so many countries in the world—but yet I hate what it
breeds. I love Costco, but then I read
that America has over 3 million self-storage units at 58,000 facilities. I love Target, but then I
remember that the markets of Dar es Salaam are bursting with hundreds of tons
of America’s cast-off clothes. Americans have 44 billion dollars sitting around in unused gift cards. (The entire GDP of Tanzania is $45 billion). But what do we buy
our friends who have everything? Gift
cards.

American cast-offs

Why is it that we Americans can have so much—and yet so
often take all those gifts and throw them down the toilet?

Freedom leads to debauchery.

Prosperity morphs into greed.

Beauty turns into idolatry.

Convenience feeds laziness.

Opportunity transforms into pride.

Abundance becomes addiction.

Gil and I keep having the same conversation these days: How does an American truly live the Christian life? What should that look like? When the temptation of excess is not only close by, but encouraged and celebrated?

When even good things, like food and sports and entertainment are so
close to our fingertips at every hour of the day that it becomes practically
impossible to turn them down? When binging is no longer only associated with just food or alcohol, but also entertainment? How do we enjoy the good
gifts God has given us, like prosperity, opportunity, and beauty, yet keep
those things from turning into greed and idolatry? The line is so incredibly thin and so difficult to determine. Sure, it’s easy to say, “American Christians are too materialistic,” but then when it comes down to deciding how much is too much, who knows the answer?

There’s got to be a way, isn’t there? Can we find a way to take advantage of our prosperity, of our abundance and comfort and convenience, and yet use it for the glory of God? Can we enjoy the gifts God has given us, and yet still live a life of self-denial? Can we allow the beauty of America to sink into our souls and make us better people, yet steadfastly refuse to be satisfied in anything but Jesus?

I don’t know the answer, but I know it starts by asking the questions. Every single day. And not allowing ourselves to be truly dazzled by anything except the cross of Christ.

It would seem that Our Lord finds our desires not too strong, but too weak. We are half-hearted creatures, fooling about with drink and sex and ambition when infinite joy is offered us, like an ignorant child who wants to go on making mud pies in a slum because he cannot imagine what is meant by the offer of a holiday at the sea. We are far too easily pleased. (C.S. Lewis)

God Doesn’t Owe Me the American Dream

By Amy Medina

On June 24, 2016

In How Americans Think

I may have spent half my life on the African continent, but I still have the American dream.

It usually comes to me when I am most frustrated with my life here; when I’ve just about had it with the heat or the bugs or the roads. That’s when my imagination activates, and I picture myself in a quiet American neighborhood, lined with big trees that change with the seasons. I own my own house; everyone speaks my language; my children ride bikes in the street without fear; I can go to the store and actually find what I need. And life is peaceful, and safe, and predictable.

The images flit around my consciousness; I rarely stopped to really think about it. But I recently realized that deep down, I have always assumed that would be my life someday. That somehow, that sort of life should always be the goal.

I may have lived in Africa for 18 years, but I am still very American.

I was astonished to realize that unconsciously, I believed that the American dream is owed to me. That God wants it for me. That because he loves me, therefore I will someday receive the Good Life. Almost as if it’s a given. An assumption.

What a lie.

Sometimes I think it’s easy for American Christians to see everything tragic that is happening Out There, and make the assumption that God could never let that happen to us. That happens to other people, to other nations. Not to Americans. Not to American Christians. As if we are somehow set apart, special, blessed.

I spent my childhood in Liberia, so I still read updates about Liberia and Ebola. The media has mostly moved on, but Liberia has not. Today I read, “The poverty that made the 2014 epidemic possible appears to have deepened. Although the country has fallen out of the headlines….another outbreak is likely.” And this on top of crushing poverty, farms destroyed, and very little way forward. “Come down to the ground and ask the survivors themselves whether they are getting the relief,” said [an Ebola survivor], “Life after Ebola is worse than the Ebola virus itself.”

I read recently about Venezuela, with country-wide food shortages; thousands of stores with empty shelves, and families waiting in line for hours for rations. And then there’s Syria. And Iraq. And North Korea. And countless others.

I know with much certainly that Christians exist in all these countries. Those chosen and loved and saved by God, who desperately seek after him. Yet he allows a pastor to lose his wife and children to Ebola. He allows the Syrian Christian family to be forced to leave their home, their business, their country and become refugees at the complete mercy of others. He allows the North Korean Christian to be turned over to the torture camps by the betrayal of his own son.

And I think: Why do I assume this won’t happen to me, to my country? Sure, I know I am not immune from cancer, from accidents, from tragedy. But do I really think that God holds America in a special category; that he won’t allow it’s destruction, that he won’t allow my financial ruin, that he will always ensure my country’s safety?

Why do I think that? Why do I assume that he owes me a peaceful American dream-life, when he doesn’t grant it to almost any other Christian anywhere in the world?

Americans are optimistic people, and we are goal-oriented. Everything always works out for us, right? We highly value personal peace and prosperity, and we will do almost anything to gain it or keep it. But sometimes, American Christians have taken that American mentality and mixed it in with our Christianity. I absorbed this even though I spent half my life overseas. Yet how can it be true for Americans, and not true for the Christians in Liberia, or Venezuela, or Syria?

I’ve forced my American dream into my consciousness, cut it apart, and analyzed it with Scripture. God does not owe American Christians anything. He does not owe me a savings account or health insurance. He does not guarantee that my children will have the opportunity to go to college and become prosperous citizens. He does not promise religious freedom, or pleasant vacations, or safety on American streets. He doesn’t even promise that America will continue to exist as we know it.

Hey, if God has allowed you a beautiful house on a tree-lined street, 2.5 children, and religious freedom, fantastic. Use it all to his glory. Maybe that will be my life someday too. But it’s not an expectation. I’m not going to assume that America, or the government, or God will make my dreams come true. Everything I have already been given (which is a lot), I want to hold with an open hand. My hope is in Christ, my destination is heaven, and nothing in this life is guaranteed. Today I have it; tomorrow I might not. He gives and takes away.

Does that scare you? It scares me. But it shouldn’t. If Christians all over the world have put their trust in God when running for their lives, or suffering under an oppressive government, or a disease is ravaging their community, then we can too. Maybe we need to pay better attention to how they do it.

American Christians, You Might Need to Start Living Like Missionaries

By Amy Medina

On May 5, 2016

In How Americans Think, Living Like a Missionary, 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)

Finding Truth

By Amy Medina

On May 17, 2015

In Book Recommendations, How Americans Think

Millenials Leaving Church in Droves, Study Finds. This is the big news circulating this week. In reality, it’s not that concerning since it’s really just a decline in cultural Christians, not committed followers of Christ.

However, the inability of Christians to pass on their faith to their children is a concern. Increasingly, university students are not taught critical thinking in their classes, they are indoctrinated into a religion of secularism in the name of “tolerance.” Yet our churches, and often even our Christian high schools, are simply not preparing students for the real-world onslaught of secular ideas.

The article above states: “Christianity in the United States hasn’t done a good job of engaging serious Christian reflection with young people, in ways that would be relevant to their lives.” After spending 13 years in ministry with high school and college students, I absolutely agree. True, disturbing, and yet inspiring. Let’s change that.

So I’m writing today with a plea to every Christian parent. If you want your child to take their faith past high school and college, if you want them to really be able to impact culture, if you want them to not just know and love the gospel, but have a confidence in the gospel, then you must train them in worldview analysis.

If I was talking to you right now, I would probably be getting way too loud and way too passionate, and Gil would gently remind me that I’m sitting right next to you and I can talk in a normal voice.

Oh, my friends. I have sat with so many college students in my living room, who are attending some of the best universities in America, and had long talks with them about the intellectual challenges they are facing in their classrooms. The war is on in our culture, and the pawns are our children. Yes, the gospel is what saves them. But they must have the tools–they must have the confidence–to know why it is true. Why Christianity is superior any other philosophy. Why they don’t need to be ashamed of what they believe. How they can learn to ask the right questions which will disarm any secular philosophy–even in their college classrooms.

My point today is to make a passionate plea for every Christian parent to read this book.

Finding Truth: 5 Principles for Unmasking Atheism, Secularism, and Other God Substitutes

Nancy Pearcey is my all-time favorite author. Her first book, Total Truth, is by far the most influential book I have ever read. It’s still my favorite, but Finding Truth is shorter and more practical, so it’s a really good place to start.

This book is not an easy read, but it is utterly fascinating. Nancy Pearcey has an amazing way of taking complex topics and bringing them down to a level that even a non-academic person can understand. Worldview and philosophy are not light subjects. However, understanding them is absolutely essential to giving our kids teeth to their faith and giving them the chance to really impact our culture.

This is not an apologetics book for Christianity. This is a book that trains the reader how to think–how to analyze any concept, take it back to its origins, and determine its truthfulness.

If you do not start with God, you must start somewhere else. You must propose something else as the ultimate, eternal, uncreated reality that is the cause and source of everything else. The important question is not which starting points are religious or secular, but which claims stand up to testing. (Nancy Pearcey)

I would love for every young person to read and digest this book before college. But if that’s just not going to happen, then every parent needs to read it and teach these things to their kids. The concepts in this book, once learned, apply to everyday life–movies, books, newspaper headlines, cultural trends. The possibilities are endless for teaching kids to learn to think both philosophically and biblically–which really go hand-in-hand.

Will you join with me in this quest? Read it and tell me what you think!