My brother Mark holding David Henry.
The most interesting question I was asked this week was this: “What is the state of your spiritual life since you have been in Burundi?” The interlocutor was my brother Mark, who lives with his family in North Carolina but visited us last week in Baltimore for Thanksgiving. I will come back to this later.
The week began with a trip to Hyattesville Maryland where I was invited to preach at a Mennonite Church. I went alone as it was logistically complicated to get Oren and David there and have them sit quietly while Rebecca and I preached. The trip was challenging in an American way (as opposed to Burundian) namely—sleet and rain. It was a long trip to boot, down by Washington DC. The most challenging part was the GPS in the borrowed car. I had mapped out a root that the talking GPS system opposed adamantly right up to the last mile. It constantly insisted that I turn when I wanted to go straight and to continue on when I wanted to turn. (For any pastors reading this, I think the GPS persistently trying to lead me astray would make a great sermon illustration, feel free to use it!)
I did get there eventually, and felt that I had overcome a test. I felt the worst was behind me…until I found out the mother of the MCC Director of International Programs (my boss) was a member of the congregation. Seriously though, it went very well and the Ezekiel sermon I shared (and transcribed on a previous blog) was well received. It has meant a lot to be able to share our experience with different churches.
After the service many people expressed their appreciation, but I was particularly moved by one man who came up afterward and told me I had really hit the nail on the head. He was obviously African. He identified himself as a Congolese tutsi. He quoted back to me the passage in the sermon where I said:
“Development needs to go hand in hand with a transformative ideology. A gospel that offers hope for the future, stands against injustice and offers to individuals and society, healing of malformed, divisive identities. Identities like tutsi, hutu, slave, free, white, black, even Catholic, and Protestant. By malformed identities, I mean identities that uphold the lie (the lie that underlies all other lies): that some people are more valuable than others.”
He completely upheld this proposition: that development must be preceeded by a gospel that heals and transforms individuals, NOT first and foremost material aid. He confessed to me that ethnic prejudice ran so deep in his community that a Hutu would not even be let into a compound or household of a Tutsi--certainly never for a meal. He said they were regarded as worthless and ignorant. I was surprised by his candor and his willingness to share this with me. I wish I could have come to know him better, and maybe I will see him again. He is living in DC now, I believe, but much of his family is still in Congo.
Other people I talked to afterwards shared their own experiences and several were planning trips to Rwanda for various reasons.
Monday through Wednesday Rebecca and I made heroic efforts to try to catch up on work. Many of our partners sent us progress reports this past month and we needed to enter them in a database. Since most are in French we set up a system where I would read and translate them out loud to Rebecca so she could enter them into the database while editing and making the English sound sensible. The system worked fairly well, allowing for feedings for David, taking Oren to nursery school, and numerous other interruptions.
We continued to have visitors throughout the week, wanting to say a last hello and goodbye, and the schedule for this last month is daunting. Cleveland, Poughkeepsie, Winnepeg, back to Baltimore and a stop to the Maryland shore for New Years. We really do want to see everyone, and realize the next leaving is far more significant than the last. The earliest we would be back is 2 and a half years from now, and that would be for a short furlough. I think I feel most sad about Oren and David not being with Grandparents. It has been good to have them giving them so much attention.
Cousins would also be a real loss. I am including pictures of David and Oren here with several of their cousins. Gabriel loves little David and here is lying on top of him. Oren and Fletcher are about the same age and have been having a ball with each other as well at my parents’ house.
Oren is in what I would call a ‘contrarion’ phase of 3. Basically if you say yes, he says no, and vice versa. In order to get him to do something I literally have to tell him he cannot do it, and he does it immediately. (Oren, don’t put on your coat, you may NOT eat your broccoli, etc, etc.) The extreme case came when we had to go to the Travel Clinic to get some vaccinations for Burundi. As it turned out I needed to get a shot, but Oren did not. When I told him he would not have to get one, he threw a screaming tantrum insisting that he wanted a shot too, as I dragged him out the door. I am told this too will pass.
On a doctor visit the following day, Oren was somewhat better and we took him to see the giant statue of Jesus in the Johns Hopkins Hospital original entrance. It was probably most meaningful to me because I remember being a 3 year old in Baltimore when my father was a resident at the hospital. We would come and visit him and I would marvel at the statue, it is huge to a 3 year old (especially the toes!) Oren was duly impressed and said it looked like a giant monster Jesus.
Last night Rebecca and I actually had a ‘date night’—which means going out with only one child, not two at this time. We went out contra-dancing—something we loved to do when we had the chance in Poughkeepsie. It is a type of folk dancing which gave rise to American square dancing. It is challenging, and frequented by delightfully eccentric people. I am taking advantage of our American high speed internet connection to post a brief video. (Sorry folks reading in Burundi!) Rebecca is in the maroon shirt. Oh, by the way, David was with us, and did not care to be left observing in the carseat, so I strapped onto my chest with the Baby Bjorn and he danced along with us. He seemed to like the motion and usually cried when we stopped.
So coming back to the original question: How is your spiritual life? The reason I found this question so interesting, I suppose, is because of the question Mark did not ask me about Burundi, that everyone else does— Is it safe there? But interestingly enough I feel like I could answer both questions the same way. As I look back on our work there, and what we are going to be returning to, I am aware that there is a tremendous temptation to do our work ‘in our own strength’, and put God on the sidelines. There are many secular NGO’s and many dedicated non-Christians who go to work in these countries. For me, the real danger is not physical, but spiritual. I think in the face of overwhelming suffering, it is easy to turn away from, rather than toward God. …to want to dig in with both hands, throw yourself into your job, and not be growing closer to the Lord, but rather spending less and less time in prayer, and seeking his will. That is what I fear could happen. For anyone who thinks that missionaries are super-spiritual, don’t be fooled, walking with the Lord is a daily challenge and it is just as easy in a mission situation, to stray away, into ego, defensiveness, spiritual sloth, and pride as it is here in the land of plenty.
It was good to be asked about this, and to feel a need to be accountable.
I did get there eventually, and felt that I had overcome a test. I felt the worst was behind me…until I found out the mother of the MCC Director of International Programs (my boss) was a member of the congregation. Seriously though, it went very well and the Ezekiel sermon I shared (and transcribed on a previous blog) was well received. It has meant a lot to be able to share our experience with different churches.
After the service many people expressed their appreciation, but I was particularly moved by one man who came up afterward and told me I had really hit the nail on the head. He was obviously African. He identified himself as a Congolese tutsi. He quoted back to me the passage in the sermon where I said:
“Development needs to go hand in hand with a transformative ideology. A gospel that offers hope for the future, stands against injustice and offers to individuals and society, healing of malformed, divisive identities. Identities like tutsi, hutu, slave, free, white, black, even Catholic, and Protestant. By malformed identities, I mean identities that uphold the lie (the lie that underlies all other lies): that some people are more valuable than others.”
He completely upheld this proposition: that development must be preceeded by a gospel that heals and transforms individuals, NOT first and foremost material aid. He confessed to me that ethnic prejudice ran so deep in his community that a Hutu would not even be let into a compound or household of a Tutsi--certainly never for a meal. He said they were regarded as worthless and ignorant. I was surprised by his candor and his willingness to share this with me. I wish I could have come to know him better, and maybe I will see him again. He is living in DC now, I believe, but much of his family is still in Congo.
Other people I talked to afterwards shared their own experiences and several were planning trips to Rwanda for various reasons.
Monday through Wednesday Rebecca and I made heroic efforts to try to catch up on work. Many of our partners sent us progress reports this past month and we needed to enter them in a database. Since most are in French we set up a system where I would read and translate them out loud to Rebecca so she could enter them into the database while editing and making the English sound sensible. The system worked fairly well, allowing for feedings for David, taking Oren to nursery school, and numerous other interruptions.We continued to have visitors throughout the week, wanting to say a last hello and goodbye, and the schedule for this last month is daunting. Cleveland, Poughkeepsie, Winnepeg, back to Baltimore and a stop to the Maryland shore for New Years. We really do want to see everyone, and realize the next leaving is far more significant than the last. The earliest we would be back is 2 and a half years from now, and that would be for a short furlough. I think I feel most sad about Oren and David not being with Grandparents. It has been good to have them giving them so much attention.
Cousins would also be a real loss. I am including pictures of David and Oren here with several of their cousins. Gabriel loves little David and here is lying on top of him. Oren and Fletcher are about the same age and have been having a ball with each other as well at my parents’ house.Oren is in what I would call a ‘contrarion’ phase of 3. Basically if you say yes, he says no, and vice versa. In order to get him to do something I literally have to tell him he cannot do it, and he does it immediately. (Oren, don’t put on your coat, you may NOT eat your broccoli, etc, etc.) The extreme case came when we had to go to the Travel Clinic to get some vaccinations for Burundi. As it turned out I needed to get a shot, but Oren did not. When I told him he would not have to get one, he threw a screaming tantrum insisting that he wanted a shot too, as I dragged him out the door. I am told this too will pass.
On a doctor visit the following day, Oren was somewhat better and we took him to see the giant statue of Jesus in the Johns Hopkins Hospital original entrance. It was probably most meaningful to me because I remember being a 3 year old in Baltimore when my father was a resident at the hospital. We would come and visit him and I would marvel at the statue, it is huge to a 3 year old (especially the toes!) Oren was duly impressed and said it looked like a giant monster Jesus.Last night Rebecca and I actually had a ‘date night’—which means going out with only one child, not two at this time. We went out contra-dancing—something we loved to do when we had the chance in Poughkeepsie. It is a type of folk dancing which gave rise to American square dancing. It is challenging, and frequented by delightfully eccentric people. I am taking advantage of our American high speed internet connection to post a brief video. (Sorry folks reading in Burundi!) Rebecca is in the maroon shirt. Oh, by the way, David was with us, and did not care to be left observing in the carseat, so I strapped onto my chest with the Baby Bjorn and he danced along with us. He seemed to like the motion and usually cried when we stopped.
So coming back to the original question: How is your spiritual life? The reason I found this question so interesting, I suppose, is because of the question Mark did not ask me about Burundi, that everyone else does— Is it safe there? But interestingly enough I feel like I could answer both questions the same way. As I look back on our work there, and what we are going to be returning to, I am aware that there is a tremendous temptation to do our work ‘in our own strength’, and put God on the sidelines. There are many secular NGO’s and many dedicated non-Christians who go to work in these countries. For me, the real danger is not physical, but spiritual. I think in the face of overwhelming suffering, it is easy to turn away from, rather than toward God. …to want to dig in with both hands, throw yourself into your job, and not be growing closer to the Lord, but rather spending less and less time in prayer, and seeking his will. That is what I fear could happen. For anyone who thinks that missionaries are super-spiritual, don’t be fooled, walking with the Lord is a daily challenge and it is just as easy in a mission situation, to stray away, into ego, defensiveness, spiritual sloth, and pride as it is here in the land of plenty.It was good to be asked about this, and to feel a need to be accountable.
Here is the contradance video if you have the bandwidth to watch it.
No comments:
Post a Comment