Tag: Lessons and Musings

Yesterday (Saturday) I needed to go grocery shopping. Gil said he would watch Grace, so I took off on my own.

There is one two-lane road that leads into town (we are sort of in the suburbs). One two-lane road for a city of 4 million people. As you can imagine, there are times when it gets quite congested. Well, yesterday morning, “congested” was an understatement. After 45 minutes, I had only gotten a mile from home. Now, that kind of traffic is bad enough, but you know when you are stuck in traffic on the freeway in California, and there’s always some renegade who drives on the shoulder? You mutter curses under your breath and pray that an officer catches him. Well, imagine you are stuck in traffic, but dozens and dozens of people are driving on the shoulder. Not only that, but as soon as there’s a break in on-coming traffic, they drive straight down that lane as well. Sometimes they even drive on the shoulder on the other side of the road. (See post below). For those of us who continue to wait patiently in our own lane, you can imagine that this is quite frustrating.

So, frustrated, irritated, and still very determined to get to the store, I turned around, drove back past our house and took off down what is affectionately called “The Back Way.” The Back Way is an all-dirt, very bumpy road. But given that this is rainy season, it’s actually a mud road. And the bumps turn into enormous lakes. And given the fact that we do not have a 4-wheel-drive car, going down this road was not the smartest thing I have ever done.

All I can say is that I am very, very thankful that our car did not stall in the middle of one these lakes of mud. Some of them were 3 or 4 feet deep. The worst point came when I was driving through one of these “puddles” and the mud came up over the hood of the car and onto my windshield. You could say that got my adrenalin going.

Like I said, not the smartest thing I have ever done. But I was determined. And indeed, there was much less traffic on The Back Way.

An hour and a half after I left home, I finally did make the 10 miles to my destination. The grocery store I was headed towards is at Dar es Salaam’s very own mall. Yep, we finally have a mall. And it does indeed look like a mall (albeit a very small one) by American standards. It has about 30 stores and is fully enclosed and air-conditioned. But the stores are not quite what you would expect at a mall: a grocery store, a pharmacy, a dry cleaners, 5 banks, and a photocopy store are some of the more unusual merchants. Much to our delight, there is also a movie theater with three screens. (It’s getting “Juno” this week—sounds like a date night!).

Yesterday, however, before I went grocery shopping, I headed to the newest store, the one all our students were talking about last week, called “Mr. Price.” Upon entering, though, I went through somewhat of a culture shock.

Half of the store looks exactly a smaller version of Bed, Bath, and Beyond. The other half looks like the clothes section of Target. It is a beautiful store. I was in shock. After driving through the mud lake and fighting the mayhem outside, to suddenly be transported back to America sent my senses into overload. I walked around in much of a daze—kind of like how I felt a year ago when the mall first opened.

But perhaps what was most disturbing to me about Mr. Price was the prices. They were actually quite reasonable. Why would I be disturbed about that? Well, because there are a few other stores in the mall which sell imported clothes and housewares, but they are so absurdly priced that I don’t even give them the time of day. But the prices in this store were affordable—kind of like Target prices.

And at least half of the customers were Tanzanian. That’s what disturbed me. There is a growing middle class in Tanzania—which is a good thing! But just because there are people in Tanzania who are moving out of poverty, does that mean their houses have to look American? Does that mean their clothes have to look American? The decorating styles in Mr. Price were most definitely western (it’s a South African chain). The majority of the clothes do not meet African modesty standards (which considers the legs as the most important part to cover up). Yet this Tanzanian middle class can now afford these things.

And that makes me sad. Even for myself—yes, I was attracted to the things in that store. But I don’t want my house to look American. No, it doesn’t look totally Tanzanian either. But my goal isn’t to re-create the kind of life I would have had in the States. Part of the reason I love living in Africa is because I get to escape the materialism of the west. I have always liked finding local products to substitute for things I need.

But the west is coming to Africa. And with each store, a little bit of the African culture dies. I do most earnestly hope and pray that the roads will improve! But I wish there was a way to allow progress to happen to Africa while still remaining distinctly African.

I appreciated the comments that many of you left on my post about Esta. I thank you for your reassurance that you don’t think less of me because I have full-time house help. But I have continued to think through this issue and ask myself, “Do I feel guilty? Why am I reluctant to tell my American friends about the perks of living in Africa?”

I think that a lot of it comes from the preconceived notions that American Christians have about being a missionary. Like I said below, people think that missionaries are supposed to suffer….and therefore, that makes us more spiritual than other people. How do I know that people think this? From comments we get. Countless people have said to us, “Oh, I could never do what you do.” (Really? Even if God asked you to?) We get special prayers and special attention and special pulpit time. And every single time people come out here on short-term mission trips, they expect—and want—to suffer. “No, don’t give me a bed to sleep on! We want to sleep on the floor!” “I know I’m going to lose weight in Africa!” One team that was out here a number of years ago even refused to take showers—I guess because missionaries are supposed to be dirty.

There’s also this mentality that the more spiritual you are, the more you will want to suffer. If you are spiritual you will be a pastor or work in full time ministry in the States (making less money than “normal” people). If you are really spiritual, you will be an overseas missionary somewhere. If you are really, REALLY spiritual, you will live in mud hut with no electricity.

So if you are just an ordinary Christian in America, well then, I guess you have to settle for just “sort-of” spiritual.

Is this really how God has called us to live as Christians? I think not.

People often speak of missionaries as being “called.” Does that mean that other Christians are not called? Does God call some people to do His work and not others?

We do believe we are called to be missionaries in Tanzania. But we never heard a voice, we never saw writing on the wall, and we never opened the Bible and read, “Go ye to Africa.” How did we know? We started with a whole-hearted desire to serve God wherever, whenever. Then we simply thought about our desires, our talents, our resources, our gifts, our vision and our passions and then looked for a place with a great need and a great strategy that matched up with what we could offer. Simple as that.

But isn’t that how every Christian should live? With God’s call on our lives, living purposefully and intentionally—no matter in what circumstances that might be?

So that means, that if I am called to live in Tanzania and get the perk of house help, then that’s an added blessing. If you are called to reach out to upper-class Valencia or Palo Alto, then you get the added blessing of living in a beautiful house. Or if God has called you to live in a dingy apartment in Newhall, or on Farm Drive in San Jose, then you get the wonderful sense of community that accompanies neighborhoods like that. But mostly, you are blessed if you are living your life “on purpose” –intentionally–and are right where God wants you to be. The point is to live your life with calling.

Do we suffer in Tanzania? Just a little. Right now I am writing this in the dark because the power has once again gone off, as it does a few times every week for a few hours. Cultural and language differences are often exhausting. We often miss the conveniences of the States. We desperately miss our families and friends. But there are a million things we love about living in Africa. And we definitely don’t miss the materialism and fast-pace and commercialism of the States. But most significantly, we are hugely blessed to be exactly where God wants us to be, living our lives “on purpose” and finding great joy in our ministry. So do we deserve your sympathy? Not at all. Do we deserve to be put on a pedestal? Definitely not. Do we covet your prayers? Absolutely.

I would say the same thing if God calls us to live in a mud hut someday. Or even if He calls us to minister in Beverly Hills. Honestly, Beverly Hills would scare me more. There definitely are different types of suffering!

There are two other things about missionary life that force us to live intentionally: 1. The financial accountability of knowing that our money comes directly from God and 2. The spiritual accountability of knowing that we have to report to the 4 churches and 75 families who financially support us and the many more who pray for us.

But shouldn’t this be the attitude of every Christian? I remember once a speaker saying, “If you had to write a prayer letter each month that was sent out to your friends and family reporting what you are doing for God, would you have anything to write about?”

How true. And if every American Christian lived their life with that mentality, how much more would be accomplished for God’s kingdom! And how differently we would view missionaries. Not as people to put on a pedestal, but as fellow laborers in God’s kingdom.

Don’t get me wrong. I definitely believe that way too often, we as Christians are afraid to suffer—myself very much included. We choose comfort over pain whenever possible. As Christians we need to have the attitude of denying ourselves and giving over our reputations, comfort, and lives for the sake of the gospel, and that does often bring suffering. And I do believe that the harvest is plentiful and the workers are few—and that many Christians are living in disobedience by not heeding God’s call on their lives. But the point is that “suffering” (as we would define it) is not necessarily a mark of spirituality. Obedience and living life “on purpose” is what God desires.