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Why Are You Going Back? Part 1

I think it really begins with Benny Hinn.

If you don’t know who he is, then consider yourself privileged.  Honestly, you don’t need to spend one second of your time looking up this heretical, self-serving sham of a television preacher.

Unfortunately, he is also world-famous.  And during our first term in Tanzania, way back in 2001, we came to the horrifying realization that many Tanzanian church leaders were being trained in how to preach by watching his TV program.  



Gil knew, from that first term, that one day he wanted to train church leaders in Africa.  But he also knew, at the tender age of 24, that it wasn’t the right time for him.  Instead, God called us to Haven of Peace Academy, where we spent 10 wonderful years working with teenagers from all over the world.  It was the World’s Best Job and really, really hard to leave.

But for many years, as we thought ahead to the time when we would leave HOPAC and join a pastoral training ministry, we figured at that point, we would need to leave Tanzania.

We thought we would need to move to Kenya, or Uganda, or somewhere else where there are established seminaries and training programs.  Because for the most part, they simply did not exist in Dar es Salaam.

Yes, it’s a city of 5 million people.  But pastoral training courses are extremely few and far between.  Hence the reason many people found their training in Benny Hinn.

We knew of the need in Tanzania, but Gil knew that he wasn’t the person to start something brand new.  So we always thought that once we left HOPAC, we would be leaving Tanzania as well.

That all changed with one dinner conversation.

Stay tuned for Part 2.

Toxic Charity

A friend recently asked me to describe our house in Dar, and I was telling her that we have a three-bedroom house, but are surrounded by families who live in one room.  Not one-bedroom houses, one room houses with no plumbing.

She said something like, “Wow, it must be a struggle to be surrounded by so much poverty.”

Oh yeah.

Then she said, “And you never really get used to it, do you?”

You have no idea.

If you’ve read this blog for any length of time, you know that it’s on my mind all the time.  All The Time.  

Being back in the States hasn’t changed that.  But it has been interesting to observe the “other side”–the side of the giversthe churches, the people, the children who empty their piggy banks, who donate clothes and food, who fill up shoeboxes and send them to children all over the world.

And I see their hearts and how they long to help.  And I see how they deeply desire to impart a spirit of giving and compassion in their children.  It’s wonderful and inspiring to see from this side.

But I struggle.  I struggle, my friends.  Because I see the hearts of the folks here, and then I see some of the results of their kindness there, and it’s just not producing the results that they would anticipate.

“In the last fifty years, [Africa] has received $1 trillion in benevolent aid…..Country by country, Africans are far worse off than they were a half century ago.”

I struggle because I don’t want to sound judgmental.  These are lessons that I have learned, that I have been forced to learn.  To learn the hard way.  And these lessons have so completely changed my life, my perspective, that I desperately want more of the American Church to get it too.

Consider this, my friends:

“[A]s compassionate people, we have been evaluating our charity by the rewards we receive through service, rather than the benefits received by the served.”

Read it again.  Please, my friends, go back and read it again.

I resisted this statement the first time I read it. My heart got defensive.  When I want to help the poor, when I give money or stuff or time, it’s not about me; of course it’s not about me!  And maybe it’s not entirely.  But how often do we really sit down and contemplate or discuss or ask questions about how our programs or food or donations really are benefiting the poor?  Or is it more about what lesson it is teaching our children about compassion?  Or how satisfied it makes us feel?

This is what I am going to ask you today.  The purpose of this post was actually to give you a book review of this book, because he says it much, much better than I ever could.

My favorite book on this subject is still When Helping Hurts, which I have reviewed previously.  That book changed my perspective entirely, and I recommend it first.  But Toxic Charity is shorter, a quicker read, and more practical, so if you want a place to start, this is a great one.

“Yes, many of our motives are noble.  We want to invest in the lives of others.  We want to expose youth and adults to the needs of a hurting world.  We want to engage people in life-changing experiences.  Some of us are motivated by the teachings of Jesus–to clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and show compassion to the oppressed.  



Often, though, we miss the big picture because we view aid through the narrow lens of the needs of our organization or church–focusing on what will benefit our team the most–and neglecting the best interests of those we would serve.”

Please, my friends.  I plead with you to read this book, to consider these issues.  If you are a church leader, it’s extremely important.  But really, this book is for anyone who has ever engaged in charity work–whether it be serving at a homeless shelter, donating items to a food pantry, or filling a Christmas shoebox.

Once you’ve read it, let me know.  I’ll love to discuss it with you.  Because I’m still learning too.

(all of the above quotes are from Toxic Charity)

P.S.  In the next couple of days, I am going to post some ideas I have about helping to develop a heart of compassion for the poor in our children.  I know this is heavy on a lot of mama’s minds, so I’ll let you know some of the insights I have gleaned by living in two worlds.

Everything is different.

On Sunday night, a friend invited me to watch Downton Abbey.  I zipped over to her house in 15 minutes.

And I realized, as I was driving the approximately 9 miles to her house, that in Dar es Salaam, I have a friend who also lives about 9 miles away:  My friend Kathy.  And I also realized, that in the entire 10 years we have lived together in Dar, that I have never–not even once–zipped over to her house at 8:00 at night to watch a show together.

Because to get to Kathy’s apartment takes a minimum of an hour, and usually around an hour and a half, even though it’s about 10 miles.  So….we don’t get to see each other very often.

The population density of our current city is 1,300 people per square km.  The population density of Dar es Salaam is 3,100 people per square km.  With a fraction of the amount of roads.

I thought about how in Dar, I hardly drive anywhere at night by myself.  It is stressful enough driving in the daytime.  But here, I can go to Target or the grocery store or a friend’s house after dark.  It feels so….free.  I’m still not used to it.

People ask me sometimes about what is different from my life in Tanzania and my life in the States.  I struggle so much with where to begin.

Everything is different.  Everything.  Driving, I tell them.  Shopping.  The weather.  My schedule.  Language. Color.  I am different there.

But those are such broad categories.  They don’t really describe how different it is.  So here’s something specific:

I would never be able to watch Downton Abbey at my friend Kathy’s house, who lives only 10 miles away.  (Of course, we’d have to wait for someone to send it to us on DVD first anyway.)  But maybe, just maybe, if the traffic doesn’t happen to be too horrendous, we can meet in the middle at an Indian restaurant.

And that’s fun too.  Just different.

Eight

She’s halfway to 16.

But how is that possible, since it can’t have been eight years since this?

She’s my good-natured, easy-going, happy, friendly, sweetheart.  She’s a peacemaker, a hard worker, and she leads by enthusiasm.

We celebrated with miniature golf and rock climbing with her friend Kylie.  Later we celebrated with family and a chocolate-peanut-butter cake that she was thrilled to make herself.

She’s God’s Grace to me.

She’s a fragrance of Grace to everyone she meets.

Here’s to the next eight years.

This Happy Morning

Christmas–Take Two

Seventeen of us (and four dogs) crammed into my brother and sister-in-law’s house for three days.  People slept everywhere.  But there was light and laughter and games and cousins and singing and a baby dressed as Santa and a whole lot of tamales.  Oh yes–there were a whole lot of  tamales.

A couple days later, Gil, his brother Brandon, and his sister Tabby had their first soccer league game of the season.  Brandon and Tabby have agreed to drive over an hour each way, each Saturday, for the next few months so that they can play soccer with Gil.  They must know Gil’s love language.

 Tamale making:  Getting in touch with our Hispanic side.

We all decided that we really do believe in Santa, after all.

There are so few truly perfect times in our lives, aren’t there?  When no one is sick, when everything goes as planned, when everyone is happy and enjoying each other.

God gave us that perfect time these weeks–full of memories and joy and family and rest.  It was a beautiful gift.

Yea, Lord we greet thee

Born this happy morning!

Jesus to thee be all glory given.

Word of the Father

Now in flesh appearing

Oh Come Let Us Adore Him!

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