Tag: Lessons and Musings Page 9 of 21

Just In Case You Think I Have It All Together

I am terrible at this.

By ‘this’ I mean Everything.

Okay, so I make a mean chocolate cake.  But that’s about it.

It probably doesn’t help that learning Kiswahili has cut off my legs at the knees.  Trying to learn how to impact this culture has me feeling helpless.  I know nothing.  I am not cut out for this.  I am not good at this.

It probably doesn’t help that I just had the worst evening ever with one of my children.  The last words this child said to me as I left their room tonight were, “FINE!  I DON’T NEED YOUR HELP!”  and I didn’t even go back in and deal with it because the entirety of the last two hours had been filled with a screaming, ranting, hard-hearted child, various forms of discipline and one-way conversations which accomplished nothing, and a knot in my stomach that got worse with every passing minute.  (Gil is not home tonight!)

It probably doesn’t help that today one of my best friends has been undergoing brain surgery in the States.  Also today, a distraught Tanzanian friend told me about her sister who suddenly died.  Also today, another distraught Tanzanian friend told me about the serious health problems of his grandmother, who raised him.  He has no mother, no father, and she is all he has.

You know, one of those days.

Should I even be here?  Should I even be doing this?  And why on earth am I trying to adopt another child when I can’t even control the ones I have?

Inadequacy.

Helplessness.

I told this child tonight, God’s grace is there. It is so big and wide and deep.  But you must accept it.

Your great grace.  Oh, such grace!

The grace for the child is the same grace for me.  Your grace finds me.

Grace in a sleeping child.

In a new day tomorrow.

In the beauty of this place.

In the hope of the cross.

And maybe even chocolate cake.

On Piles of Sand and Eating Babies

There’s a story in missionary lore about a family who moved to a deep, dark jungle.  The natives were fascinated by the family’s food, which came in cans.  They soon figured out that the picture on the outside of the can showed what was inside it.  A picture of tomatoes meant there were tomatoes inside; a picture of corn meant there was corn inside.

Imagine the natives’ dismay when they saw cans with pictures of babies on them.

Culture influences everything, doesn’t it?

This week, this video has been showing up a lot on my Facebook feed.

Post by Linda Louise Futter.

It’s two African guys and a pile of sand.  They are shoveling the sand into a wheelbarrow, and then dumping it into another, smaller pile…..about six inches away.

It looks ridiculous.  It looks idiotic.  And the person who took the video, and offers a some narration, obviously thinks it’s one of the dumbest….and therefore, funniest, things she has ever seen. It’s labeled, “Only in Africa.”

It has 374,562 shares and over 13 million views.  So I guess a lot of other people think it is funny as well.

Then, two African friends of mine offered an explanation:

When mixing concrete, and you don’t have a cement mixer, you use the wheelbarrow to measure–this many loads of sand, this many loads of gravel, this much cement.

Oh.  So these guys are not idiots after all.  They are measuring.  OH.

Guess I’m the idiot now.

This realization hit me hard.  It cut to the heart.  It made me wonder, How many times have I done this without realizing it?  Complained, criticized, mocked, (written about!) something in another culture, when really I just needed to look at it with different eyes?

Why do we always assume the worst?  When people do something we don’t understand, why do we always assume that they are ignorant, lazy, or backwards, especially when they come from a culture we perceive as less civilized than our own?

We do this!  We do this!  I do this!

In America, we do this when our immigrant neighbors park their car on their lawn.  Or when they don’t cut their lawn.  Or when they paint their house an atrocious color.  Or when they drive too slow.  Or when their parties are too loud.  Or when they put their garbage cans out too early.  Don’t they know anything???

Okay, so I get that all cultures do this about other cultures.  Just like the natives who assume the missionaries are eating babies.

I’m quite certain that my house helper thinks I am nuts because I ask her to iron the girls’ simple cotton dresses and put them in the closet, whereas their fanciest, frilliest, laciest dresses are stuffed into a basket in the toy room and used for playing.

A friend once reprimanded me because I threw away the chicken neck and after all, that’s the best part.

But the difference is that I don’t feel condescended about these things.  And yet I do feel that often there is quite an air of condescension that comes from those of us who might be called civilized about the practices of those who are uncivilized.

Ugh.  Ouch.  Amy, we don’t use words like civilized and uncivilized anymore.  That was back in the days of imperialism.  This is the 21st Century and we are enlightened.

Except, when I see that 13 million people are laughing at two African guys who are shoveling sand, it does make me wonder how enlightened we really are.

We must ask ourselves, Why do we assume these guys don’t have a reason for what they are doing?  Why do we assume they are just being idiots?

“People usually don’t act randomly or stupidly.  Those from other cultures may think it random or stupid, but from the local person’s perspective, they’re thinking or acting out of a larger framework that makes sense to them….Too often we assume others are foolish or illogical simply because their reasoning is not self-evident to us.” (Duane Elmer, Cross-Cultural Servanthood)

I

am

ashamed.

And I am forced to look deep into my soul and examine what I really think about people who do things differently than me.

Since I am in Africa, determined to help and not hurt, determined not to repeat the mistakes of those who went before me, I must

examine

my

heart.

Root out ethno-centrism.  Put condescension to death.  Look for the good.  Assume the best.  Choose humility.

Of course, sin is there.  Some people really are idiots–in any culture.  I was driving with a Tanzanian friend the other day, and a guy was yelling in the middle of the street.  Yeye ni lewa, my friend muttered.  He is drunk.  And many times, there is inefficiency and ugliness or just plain evil.

But can I first realize that sin is in my heart, and will be coloring my view of how I see things?  Can I stop assuming that my way is the best way, that different does not equal wrong (or stupid, or lazy)?

In humility, consider others better than yourselves.

Even if it means giving the benefit of the doubt to two guys shoveling sand.

Africa Needs a Whole Lot Less of Joel and a Whole Lot More of Rick

Two very different people who call themselves Christians have gotten a lot of media time recently.

One is Victoria Osteen, wife of Joel, who recently told her audience, “when we obey God, we’re not doing it for God…we’re doing it for ourselves.  Do good for your own self.  Do it because God wants you to be happy.  When you come to church, when you worship Him, you’re not doing it for God, really–you’re doing it for yourself, because that’s what makes God happy.”

And then there’s Rick Sacra.

I’ve known Rick and Debbie Sacra since the 80’s, while I was growing up on the ELWA compound in Liberia.  Debbie Sacra was my sixth grade English and History teacher.

They’ve been committed to Liberia ever since then, even through 15 years of devastating civil war and the war-torn country that limped back to life afterwards.

Dr. Sacra had planned to return to Liberia at the end of August. When he found out that Dr. Brantly had contracted Ebola, he did not cancel his trip.

He did not even postpone his trip.

He actually moved up his departure date to get to Liberia sooner.

He knowingly and consciously made the decision to walk into a situation where well over 50% of people are dying from a horrible virus.

So Victoria Osteen, what do you have to say about that?

That Dr. Sacra is obeying God for himself?  That contracting a deadly disease and possibly leaving his wife a widow and his children fatherless would make him happy?  That he literally and completely chose to lay down his very life….for himself???

As Bill Cosby says, That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard in my life!  Totally agree.

Of course, when you go home to a 10 million dollar mansion, instead of a war-torn, poverty stricken country with a deadly epidemic raging through it, it’s difficult to understand what “obedience” she is even talking about.

The experts say that this epidemic is getting worse, not better, and that over 20,000 people will probably be infected before it’s over.  All of Africa is on high alert.  ReachGlobal’s All-Africa conference in Tanzania was recently cancelled–even though there’s no Ebola here…..yet.  This is serious stuff, folks.

And we are forced to ask ourselves The Question.  What do we do if it comes here?

I don’t know the answer to that question.  But I do know that I want to follow Rick Sacra’s example, not Victoria Osteen’s.  God has called me to deny myself, pick up my cross, and follow Him.

Deny myself.  Not “do it for myself.”

Does God want me to be happy?  He wants me to be holy.  And He knows, and has taught me, that happiness is found at the very moment when I put myself aside, and fix my eyes on Him.

Unfortunately, the Osteen’s toxic brand of “Christianity” has been exported to Africa, where it is found everywhere.

We need a whole lot less of them out here, and a whole lot more Rick Sacras.

More Than Tears and Facebook Posts

So I don’t know about you, but these days, I’m afraid to read the news.

Talk about a downer.

If you’ve read this blog for very long, you know that I grew up in Liberia.  A few weeks ago, you might have never heard of the place.  Now, everybody knows about it.

In fact, I grew up on the ELWA compound, home of ELWA Hospital–where Dr. Brantly and Nancy Writebol were serving when they contracted Ebola.  My dad, in fact, was chief pharmacist and then hospital administrator at the very same hospital in the 80’s.

So you could say that this whole Ebola tragedy–even before the doctors got sick–has been hitting me straight in the heart.

And then there’s the Iraqi Christians.  

Whew.  Talk about breaking our collective American Christian hearts.  Right?  Right?  Totally.

I’ve felt a dark cloud over my head the past few days.  I had a nightmare about being stabbed and I’m sure it’s because I’ve spent so much timing thinking about this.  

And we pray.  And pray and pray and beg God to intervene.  Praying is good and necessary and I firmly believe it is the best work we can do on behalf of these people.  

But today I went to this link, which gives examples of organizations who are working in Iraq and need funds. 

I’ve been thinking about how God has called us Americans to other work besides only prayer:  the work of sacrificial giving.  

After all, we are, in fact, the richest people in the world.  And by “we,” I mean anyone reading this.  If you are rich enough to own a computer, and you read English, you qualify.  

As in, we’re princes and princesses.  Aristocracy of the world.  If you don’t believe me, click hereand enter your salary.  Please–it will give you the shock of your day.

Hey, I know that America is in some difficult financial times.  I get that.  Even this week, we came to the hard realization that we most likely will need a new transmission in our car.  Ugh.  I “get” difficult financial times.

But really?  Do I get “difficult” as in “run for your life to the mountains with only the clothes on your back, leaving behind the body of your daughter?”  Do I get “contracting a disease that gives you a 90% chance of dying a slow, painful death where your insides turn to mush?”  

I’ll take the “problem” of a bad transmission, thank you very much.

This is the truth of it, friends.  It’s easy to post the Nazarene symbol on Facebook.  It’s easy to share news articles, and it’s even easy to pray because it doesn’t cost us much.  

But what I am asking myself today:  Do I care enough that it will affect my checking account?  Am I willing to sacrifice?  

Yes, it all makes me really sad and angry.  But do I really, truly care?  

I knew by writing this post that I would be required to include myself in this same category.  I was kind of afraid to write it, for that reason.  

But we must, must, must consider this question.  Did God make us rich because He loves us more?  Did He make us rich because we deserve happy lives?  Or did He give us what we have so that we can use it for His kingdom?  

What will I say when I stand before Him, accountable for everything He entrusted to me?   “Well, God, I posted the Nazarene symbol on Facebook.  I even shed a few tears on their behalf.”  

Remember those who are in prison, as though in prison with them, and those who are mistreated, since you also are in the body.

To whom much has been given, much will be required.

This the linkof Iraqi organizations, and this is one place where you can donate to help Ebola prevention and its victims.

Muscle Memory

It’s the same, but not the same.

In many ways, nothing has changed.  My brain has made the switch to Tanzania.  Habits and routines that I completely forgot about have come back to me.  A few weeks ago, I couldn’t even fathom living in Tanzania again.  Now, it is effortless.  Well, as much as living in a third-world country can be effortless.

It’s like muscle memory, my friend Alyssa said to me.

Yes.  I know what to do here.  And it helps that I am in the same house in the same neighborhood in the same city.

Yet.

Everything has changed.

I am still living less than half a mile away from HOPAC.  My children will be attending there in less than two weeks.

But it is not my life anymore.

My muscle memory sees the new teachers arriving and I start thinking about when I should have them over.  By instinct, I start making plans for the new school year.  Shouldn’t we be creating the theme for the year right now?  Shouldn’t we be getting Gil’s classroom ready?  Shouldn’t we be attending the in-services?

But no.  No, I tell myself.  That is not your life anymore.

Oh, I will still be around.  I’m going to be on the board and I will join the parent association and I will volunteer in my kids’ classes.

But I will be a parent.  Not a staff member.  Not involved in the intricate details.  It won’t be my life.

And that’s hard for me; hard to give it up because it was my life for 10 years.  And I loved that life.  And I love that school.

Truthfully, I’m excited about my new life, too.  Instead of reading books and discussing Christian school culture, Gil and I are reading books and discussing Tanzanian culture.  Soon, he will be setting up a new office and preparing a new classroom in a completely different kind of school.  It’s a complete shift in mindset.  My daily routines will look very different from before.

But I don’t have muscle memory for it.  It feels awkward and uncomfortable and new and I have no idea what I am doing.

I think back to those first years at HOPAC when I felt the same way.  So I know that the same thing will happen this time around, that my new life and ministry will settle in and become the new normal.

And in this period of in between, I will remind myself that He is good and faithful and He has called us to this new thing.  And that He delights in weakness because He is strong.  This–these truths–have become the real muscle memory for me.  They will not change.

Page 9 of 21

Powered by WordPress & Theme by Anders Norén