Since we’re trapped inside time we get pretty impressed when we look back and see how God has sovereignly prepared us for ministry opportunities we have today. But since it’s all part of His eternal decree, it was all part of the plan since before time began. So for Him, it’s all in a days work…except, days didn’t exist yet.
Lately I’ve had some opportunities just like that. Christian, one of the elders at church, and I have been trying to find a time to get together for some guitar lessons. After six months we’ve determined it probably won’t happen, so we reverted to video lessons. He’s recording me playing some of the songs we frequently sing in church, then he’ll go back and play along. Despite the awkwardness, I think it’s great because it’s something that will outlast my time here. As long as he’s self-motivated, he can learn on his own schedule and won’t be dependant on me.
I’ve already gotten to use my volleyball skills a bit with the youth camp and the Mariental outreach, so naturally I was excited to hear that some of the kids in the J.G. Bible Study I’ve been going to are on the volleyball team. Willem, the team captain, has been frustrated that their faculty advisor isn’t very helpful when it comes to practices, so before their game today I offered them some tips during warm-ups. When the faculty advisor had to leave for an appointment, I was appointed the acting coach. Unfortunately they lost the game, but it was close, and it gave me an idea of some things we can work on before the big tournament on Saturday.
So needless to say, it’s pretty cool that when billions of people and thousands of years were still just a thought in God’s mind, amidst all that He chose me, prepared me, and continues to use me as a guitar player and a volleyball coach, all for His glory.
The Specialist
More question...still no answers
We were able to sit down yesterday with Sylvia Beukes, the National Director for Hope’s Promise Orphan Ministries (HPOM), and clarify some of our questions and concerns about what would happen if Social Services were to place the kids under Hope’s Promise and Jenny were to become an HPOM mommy. Some of us get the feeling that if she’s singled out to receive so much aid then she’ll have no connection to the surrounding community and therefore no support network apart from us. When asked about the cultural implications, Sylvia raised a very poignant question, “What has culture done for these kids?” . . . Well they’re still alive. They’re not eating out of dustbins. They have a roof over their head. They’re going to school. It may not be an ideal system from what we’re used to, but it’s what they have. They’re culture is based on survival, not accumulating wealth. If living conditions aren’t up to our standard, we must understand that’s not the point. So I think my ultimate question is beginning to take shape, Is there a way to work within their system rather than replace it with ours? Can we come alongside side them on their road, rather than dragging them down ours? I realize how messy and emotionally charged that question is, but I think it's one we must struggle with. I also realize, I must be ready for the answer to be No.
Thank you for your gracious responses and understanding the value of a question, whether or not I have an answer.
How can I understand unless someone instructs me
I felt like Philip speaking to the Ethiopian eunuch as the eyes around the table lit up with new understanding. This was my third week going to the Bible study at J.G., the other secondary school in Okahandja. They’ve been meeting on Thursday afternoons for a few years now, but I was just recently invited when I visited the school with the team from Palm Beach Atlantic a few weeks back. Today we were studying John 5. As usual, we read through the passage then discussed what stuck out to us or what questions people had. Once we got started the questions just kept pouring out as we ran the gambit from the paradox of the Trinity to the deity of Christ, praying to Mary, baptizing infants, the final judgment, and what does poor in spirit mean. It’s like they’re hungry for truth and can’t get enough of it. Just like the eunuch, they’ve had the Scriptures, but they need someone to come instruct them in it. As I was walking away with Willem, the student leader of the group, he kept saying, “I learned so much today!” How true does the prophet write, “How beautiful on the mountains are the feet of those who bring good news!” (Is 52:7)
Towards a solution
I thought I was as angered and heartbroken about entitlement as I could get, but that was before I heard Rosa’s side of the story. Rosa is Jenny’s next door neighbor and also one of Joan’s precious preschool teachers. Joan relayed the story like this…
Rosa came into their Thursday afternoon preschool teachers meeting fuming mad. She proceeded to unload, like pulling the stop out of a hole in a dike. She said her neighbor had a fire the other night, but none of the other neighbors came to help. Rosa was the only one. And as fast as she could pull things out of the house the onlookers were stealing them. They justified themselves by saying, “Well the Americans will replace it all for her anyway.” Those were their exact words. It makes me about as mad as Rosa probably was, but it forces me to analyze how much am I part of the problem, because I know they’re right.
The whole African tribal culture is built around the sharing of resources to help each other survive. When we step in with aid we interrupt the delicate balance of that culture that has survived for centuries without us. There were five white people at her place Wednesday morning helping clean up from the fire. But had we not been there others would’ve stepped in and helped out. Rosa would’ve gladly opened up her own home to let the children stay the night, but the white men took them out of their culture to sleep under his roof. We help replace clothes and mattresses, but truthfully, if we were never there, others would have shared and they would’ve gotten by. That’s the beauty in their culture that we’ll never fully understand.
America is not the savior of Africa. Africa doesn’t need to be saved from themselves. They need Jesus. I don’t know how to say in more forthrightly than that.
Am I suggesting we abandon people to their poverty? By no means! I’m suggesting we work within their cultural framework to help in a way that doesn’t ostracize them from their families and communities. I’m suggesting we point people to Christ, leading them toward a dependency on God, not on white aid. Trials help produce perseverance and faith. When we remove them from their trials, there’s no reason to trust in God. We must walk a road with them, not just give them a car and directions on how to bypass the road altogether. But as frustrated as I get (can you tell??) I must remember I have no perfect solution. And in my efforts towards one, I’m sure I leave my own pile of wreckage in the wake. It forces me to the very same place, total reliance on the Source of all wisdom, which in the end may be the whole point in the first place.
Hope in the Ashes
Most of the morning was spent at Jenny’s pulling zinc panels off charred wooden poles and cleaning up what was left after the fire burnt itself out last night. We managed to fill a good sized bowl full of salvaged beads that weren’t melted together, but that’s about all that was left. Everything else, clothes, food, money, Miriam’s textbooks and school uniform, birth certificates, blankets, photo albums, Jenny’s Bible, all reduced to soot and ashes.
Apparently one of the young girls had knocked over a candle and ran out, but never told anyone about it. Jenny’s room was separated from the main brick house which they started to empty of belongings in case it too caught on fire. None of the onlookers wanted to use their precious prepaid water cards to help put it out, so all they could do was watch everything they had be consumed by the flames.
At twenty-three years old Jenny is the single mother of two small children and taking care of her four younger siblings with virtually no help from their father except for this small plot they live on. This tragedy comes right on the heels of Jenny returning from her cousin’s funeral, the only cousin that helped financially support her and her siblings. Not only that, but the family she helped clean house for moved away last week, so now her sole source of income is from her woodcarving shop. It reminds me of Job, when the next servant came with tragic news before the previous one even finished speaking. All one can do is sit in stunned silence. Does it ever let up?
But as usual, God raises hope from amidst the ashes. We’ve been talking with Jenny for a while about moving on to her own plot to free her from the authority of her father (since it’s his plot, abusive relatives wander in and she has no authority to kick them out). There’s also talk of Hope’s Promise helping support her as a foster parent for her siblings. These all sound like very good options, but we must be very careful wading through the muddy waters of dependency and entitlement hoping to find a better solution on the other side. Whenever whites “swoop in” to “rescue” the Africans things can quickly become very dangerous. So please pray for much wisdom for all involved. Pray that we would follow God’s leading and not force our agenda on to Jenny and her family. Pray that God would continue to provide, and for us all to trust that He ultimately knows what’s best. Pray that Jenny wouldn’t be ostracized from her family by getting Social Services involved. And pray for unity in the body where philosophies of ministry heavily collide.
Toivo Time
I got to spend some time with Toivo yesterday. He finished with his exams last week so now he’s on winter break. He told me he thought he did well overall except maybe math and science. He’ll get his marks on August 10th so then he’ll know for sure. Now that he’s done with 11th grade, next year he’ll go on to a two year “college prep” course. During break he’ll be working at the Okahandja hospital (since he wants to be a doctor). He said he’ll probably just be cleaning floors taking orders from somebody, but at least it’s a start. But he can’t wait to take a couple weeks off and join our team when they come in July.
Photo of the Day
Caught the sunset tonight with some rare June clouds.
Off Days
I love fall in New England. I love fall in Namibia too. The nights have been quite cool lately. We even dipped down to freezing a few nights which was good because it killed off most of the pesky mosquitoes. With cool mornings and evenings it makes the warm daytime temperatures delightful. I open up my house to let the warm fresh air in. I’ve even seen some trees dropping yellow leaves. Almost like home!
Being here in Okahandja, far from the nearest Christian bookstore, I’ve been forced to pick up some of the books I brought off of my to-be-read shelf. Since there’s always a great recommendation or new release, some of these books have been sitting on that shelf for almost 5 years! But now that I have the time and opportunity to read them I wonder why I’ve waited so long. I just finished The Gospel According to Moses by Athol Dickson, reflections on how his participation in Chever Torah (a Jewish Torah study) has enriched his Christian faith. It’s been quite timely and helpful as I’m preparing an Old Testament Survey curriculum for future use. Now I have the tough decision of what to pick up next. I’m leaning towards Jesus Among Other Gods by Ravi Zacharias, though I may whip through the short Attributes of God by A.W. Pink first.
So that’s how I enjoyed my lovely solitary fall afternoon: reading, writing, and doing laundry.
Prayer Updates
I was catching up with Jenny yesterday, who had just returned from her cousin’s funeral, when she told me some sad news. After the funeral she had sent her baby daughter Queen to live with a relative in South Africa because she couldn’t afford to keep her. The cousin that died had helped support Jenny and her siblings financially, so without that extra income things will only get harder. Also the family Jenny was cleaning for has moved so she’ll be totally relying on her unpredictable income from the woodcarving shop. Continue to pray for Jenny, that this testing time would increase her faith and reliance upon God rather than man, that God would continue to provide for their daily needs, and that perhaps that provision would come through their father who would man up and take responsibility for his own kids.
I also got to catch up with Sylvia this morning at our woodcarvers Bible Study. She’s doing well, no physical ailments lately. Her two sons have been sponsored to stay at the school hostel which has its pros and cons. They will be well fed and forced to study more, which is important for Clinton who is in grade 10 (If students don’t pass their grade 10 exams then they can’t go on to grade 11). But it also means Sylvia will only get to see them at church and on long weekends when the hostel sends them home. It also means Carina has to stay home with Deborah, the youngest sister, until Sylvia gets home from the market, so she can’t come to our school Bible Study. So they’re continuing to trust in the Lord and He’s continuing to provide. Thanks so much for your prayers on their behalf.
Luther
On October 31st 1517, Martin Luther nailed his 95 Theses to the door of the Castle Church in Wittenberg, Germany effectually starting the Protestant Reformation. I knew the gist of it, that Luther listed all the things wrong with Catholic doctrine and especially denounced the sale of indulgences (or pardons) which were an effort by the Catholic Church endorsed by the pope to raise money for the building of St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. But I never really understood the depths of it until I recently read through some of his statements as part of a study on confession. I found myself laughing out loud at his sarcasm of the pope and sitting in awe at the courage of this man of God bringing such heavy indictments against the powerful Church. Let me list some of my favorites here:
45. Christians are to be taught that he who sees a man in need, and passes him by, and gives [his money] for pardons, purchases not the indulgences of the pope, but the indignation of God.No wonder this man was excommunicated, labeled a heretic and condemned under penalty of death!
50. Christians are to be taught that if the pope knew the exactions of the pardon-preachers, he would rather that St. Peter's church should go to ashes, than that it should be built up with the skin, flesh and bones of his sheep.
51. Christians are to be taught that it would be the pope's wish, as it is his duty, to give of his own money to very many of those from whom certain hawkers of pardons cajole money, even though the church of St. Peter might have to be sold.
52. The assurance of salvation by letters of pardon is vain, even though the commissary, nay, even though the pope himself, were to stake his soul upon it.
86. [In reference to questions from the laity] -- "Why does not the pope, whose wealth is today greater than the riches of the richest, build just this one church of St. Peter with his own money, rather than with the money of poor believers?"
Cultural Adaptations
I’ve never felt more comfortable being the only white person in the room, but looking around the auditorium last night I was reminded how much our differences go beyond our shade of melanin. Pastor Marius’ church in Katutura was putting on a gospel concert involving many of my friends who attended the youth camp here at the plot about a month back. It was my first time to see them all since we parted ways at the train station after the Mariental outreach so I forgot my fair share of names, but it was great to see them again.
Sitting in my chair between Gordon and !yoko!yoko (a Damara/Nama name; the !’s are clicks) I found myself marveling at the many cultural differences these friends have taught me. Black African culture tends to be rather emotional and touchy-feely, which those of you who know me well may recognize is not me. But lately I’ve found myself quite at home seated in a sanctuary where everyone’s singing and clapping and dancing in the aisles. We’re all celebrating and worshiping the same God, we just express it differently. And lately it’s not so awkward when a friend shakes my hand and doesn’t let go or puts his arm around my shoulder. It's more than just getting used to it; it's a deeper understanding that I don't really know how to explain.
I’m still getting used to the whole idea of sharing resources. American culture trains us to be financially independent, except with parents who are always available to ask for money. ;) Here asking friends or family members for money is a regular practice. It’s almost as if the resources of those in your personal network are all at your disposal if you simply ask (or sometimes without asking!). On top of that, I get requests frequently simply because I’m white and they assume all white people have infinite resources. So I’m still wading through if, how, when and to whom I should give. Fortunately I have learned enough to know to accept a gift, even if (especially if!) it seems I should be the one giving to them. I don’t know to what extent they went to give and it would be an insult not to accept it, as if to inadvertently say, 'I'm too good for your gift'. But perhaps that's a topic for another post.
As the evening was coming to a close, Pastor Marius came up to me and expressed his appreciation for me coming all the way down from Okahandja to show my support. Then he said the most encouraging words of the night, “You’re a real African missionary now.” It seems I'm getting there. :)
Six months
It’s hard to believe that I’ve already been here for six months. Looking back it seems like I’ve come such a long way, but it still feels like I have so much to learn. (How to deal with these stinkin mice in my ceiling for instance!) Being on the “foreign” mission field has given me an entirely different perspective on what it means to be a missionary at home and also helped me understand how to be a more effective foreign missionary. It’s grown my appreciation for and sensitivity to other cultures as well as revealed the arrogance of my own. And most of all it’s forced me to rely on God in a practical, not just theoretical, way.
But there’s still so much to learn. I’m looking forward to the team coming in July so I’ll get to experience our short-term missions trip from the other side. What is it like having a team come interrupt my regular schedule? How is it they add to my ministry while they’re here? What’s the impact they leave behind after they go? These were some of my main questions when I first came, so I am quite looking forward to the learning opportunity.
