Hilton or Motel 6

Today I find myself back in Okahandja. It’s been about 2 months since I’ve been here and I could catch a ride out with Richard Beukes, Sylvia’s husband who’s been working on the Hope’s Promise school, so I decided to make a weekend of it. In a few hours I’ll visit the Bible study at the secondary school then go hang out at the Ark for the afternoon. Tomorrow I’m going to head into Windhoek to spend some time with Toivo and hopefully work on some college applications. So I hope it’ll be a relaxing, yet productive weekend.

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Buddy and Julia are house-sitting for some missionaries who are out of town so they’re letting me stay with them. This house has got me thinking about luxury’s place in missions. Not only is the house huge and immaculate, but they have a pool, unlimited wireless internet, an indoor braai and the list goes on. Now the first thought is that’s only natural since the dollar is so strong here Westerners can easily afford luxury accommodations. And why not? It makes for a good place to relax, refresh, and restore the soul after a long, hard day of ministry. And the culture shock isn’t so bad when you can still enjoy many of the comforts of home. Is it bad, or wrong? No, I don’t think so. But I’m more concerned about what is most effective and best.

Depending on your particular ministry (ie, hosting missionaries, working with the poor, etc), your living conditions can have quite an impact. I recognize this in little things as simple as when people ask me how much my camera costs or my plane ticket to get here. I realize they could eat for months on that much money. Luxuries like that create a separation between the ministers and the people we’re ministering to. But of course we must recognize there is automatically a separation because of things like my native language, my food preferences, my skin or hair color, or any number of other things. But I think the more we can narrow the separation, the more influence we can have in people’s lives.

At some level I think it effects the gospel we preach. This morning I wrote in my journal, “How can we teach them to be content with little when we have much? How can we teach them about the vice of materialism when we idolize our materials? How can we teach them to live by faith when we don’t need to trust God for anything ourselves?”

But probably most importantly, God is far more concerned with the internal attitude of our hearts which is reflected in our external actions. Perhaps I have extra money to spend on myself because I’m more concerned with my needs than with ministry needs. In my reading just this week the author used the phrase “disposable income.” What is that? Does that really exist? The reason we say that is because charitable giving has been allotted a small segment of our budget. What would it look like if ministry became our budget and we used what was left for our needs? What if we really looked “not only to our own interests, but also to the interests of others” where our finances are concerned?

Well I’m sure this’ll raise a little controversy, so leave it in the comments.

A parable

There was a king over a beautiful kingdom. His people loved him and he loved them. But when the king was off to war, his enemy came and took over his kingdom. He deceived the people into thinking the king would never return. He convinced them that whatever their hearts desire, they could take, with no regard for anyone else. Medicines were used up and forgotten so sickness and disease became epidemic. The food supplies were used up and people started going hungry. Soon anarchy reigned and people completely forgot about their king and the peaceful lives they lived under his rule.

Eventually, word came to the king on the battlefront about the state of his kingdom. He knew that if he sent a detachment of troops from his army that the people would fight for their newfound 'freedom' to fulfill their every desire and there would be many casualties. So he decided to send his son, the prince, to start a subversive movement among the people to remember their love for him.

So under the cover of darkness the price returned to the kingdom disguising himself as a peasant. He brought with him many medicines that had been forgotten under the current regime and healed many sick people. He re-taught them how to plant seed and tend gardens so the hungry were fed. And all the while he reminded the people how much better life used to be with the king, inviting them to return to that life, and promising that the king would return from war and restore things to how they should be.

Soon the prince began to gather quite a following for the king. When the evil tyrant heard of this subversive movement he had the prince arrested and brought to the castle for trial. He was declared a traitor and according to the laws of the land the only sentence for treason was death. Once again, word came to the king about the plight of his son. When he heard this the king’s face fell and he said, “My people have betrayed their king. And it is for their act of treason my son must die."

~An excerpt from Sunday's message on the gospel

Evangelism and African Culture

Other than the guy who just shouted from his couch and never opened the door, we were usually welcomed into homes or at least given time to say our piece. As we’ve been visiting people in their homes this week to share the gospel, they have been much more accommodating than you’d find in the States, I think partly because house visits are much more common here. In America you don’t just drop by someone’s house to visit them. You usually make an appointment or meet over lunch or something. But the only people knocking on your door in the States are salesmen, Jehovah’s Witnesses, and kids in Halloween costumes.

People are also much more respectful to their guests, especially concerning religious conversation. They graciously listened as we shared and explained a few verses from Romans that briefly summarize God’s redemptive plan. This is less surprising when one considers the polytheistic spiritual history of the continent, the increased number of regular church goers, that almost every house has a Bible, and how clergy are often held in high regard (regardless of what they actually teach). Even if they didn’t give us the time to share, they would always let us pray for them. It’s interesting how everyone wants a blessing on their own terms.

And in the end the response was quite overwhelming, almost too much in fact. As some of our hosts have shared with us in the past, when we share the gospel here and proceed to ask if anyone would like to ‘receive Jesus’ or ‘become born again’ then many people will say yes not because they understand but simply to be polite. But we would always pray with them nonetheless, because we don’t know their hearts and this may actually be the time God is moving their hearts to believe.

At youth group tonight we shared about our experiences from the week and many of our youth were greatly touched and encouraged. They were excited by the boldness and passion in the team members from Windhoek. By going along in the different small groups they gained valuable experience on how to explain the gospel and what kinds of things they can say. And they were quite fired up to keep doing it even now that the team has gone. So even if that’s the only lasting effect (which it’s not), I think it’s been a productive week.

Adventures in Door-to-Door Evangelism

When he first came to the door in a long t-shirt and his underwear, we offered an embarrassed chuckle, but when I realized it was my friend Immanuel from the library, I began to look for a place to hide. I was with two girls from Windhoek who came with a team from their church to do an outreach with our youth group in Arandis. Their primary evangelistic tool, door-to-door evangelism.

If you’ve known me for any length of time you know what a huge fan I am of door-to-door evangelism (said very sarcastically for those who don’t). But all this week in the mornings and afternoons we go out in small groups to visit people’s homes, unashamedly share the gospel, then invite them to the evening program we hold every night.

Aside from feeling like a Jehovah’s Witness, I think it puts people on the defensive and they’re far less interested in talking about deep personal matters with a complete stranger than a friend. That said, I have discovered many benefits thus far. At first I was slightly anxious whenever we came to the house of someone I knew. But then I got to thinking, it gave me the perfect opportunity to introduce Jesus into our ongoing conversations. True, this team from Windhoek doesn’t know this person or where they’re at, but their boldness has forced me to be upfront about my faith. For those I don’t know, it gives me the chance to explain why I’m here and let them know I’m available if they ever have questions. In addition, it’s helped me refine my ability to succinctly, clearly share what I believe and helped me get a better understanding of some questions people face regarding the gospel.

I still don't know exactly where Immanuel is on his spiritual journey, but now when the questions and issues come up, he knows he has a friend with whom he can discuss them. I'm also looking forward to an intriguing follow-up conversation the next time I see him in the library. And I’m still no closer to taking up door-to-door on my free weekends, but it has been an interesting exercise in openness and boldness.

Elizabeth

I’d heard about Elizabeth long before I got to meet her last week. Everyone had told me how happy she was and such a joy to be around. They set my expectations high, but when the day came I found she totally is that cool.

Elizabeth was born with spina bifida. But from lack of proper care at the Ark in Rehoboth, she ended up dragging her legs to get around. Had she received the care she needed she may have been walking by now, but from all the dragging, one of her feet got an infection down to the bone and had to be amputated. Praise God, she now has a proper wheelchair and people who love and look after her. And despite all that she’s gone through, that contagious smile never leaves her face.

The past few school breaks she’s been coming from Rehoboth to stay with Nan. That’s where I met her. She wanted to keep playing Uno over and over. At first she got upset when I would drop a Draw 2, but then she started thanking me because it helped her get more cards she could use for revenge. :)

Getting to know Elizabeth has made me think how easily we get bitter and upset when things don’t go the way we want them to. But by doing that we’re basically telling God He’s not doing a good enough job. He obviously messed up because something didn’t go according to our plans. In the allegory Hinds Feet on High Places, Much-Afraid is traveling from the Valley of Humiliation to the High Places. She is heartbroken when the path the Shepherd marked out for her leads her through the desert in the opposite direction of the High Places, but it’s in the desert where she learns to call herself “Acceptance-with-Joy”. Elizabeth reminds me that whatever path the Shepherd has marked out for me, I too must humbly say, “I am your servant, Acceptance-with-Joy.”

Moving On

On Sunday, Don, a repeat visitor, and his niece Kat came to visit Okahandja on the back end of their trip. We spent some time at the Ark, they visit the preschools with Joan, then we spent some downtime at the Okapuka Game Lodge. Though not as big as Etosha, they have thousands of hectors where the animals roam freely. We got up close and personal with rhinos, crocodiles, and giraffe and saw some other game antelope that you can’t find in Etosha. After the game drive we watched the lions get fed, from so close that if I stuck my hand through the wall it would’ve been bitten off. Check out more pics on Flickr.

After I dropped Don and Kat at the airport I spent some last time with the Canadian team over dinner at Joe’s. Then it was time to pack, clean up, and head out to Arandis. Grace and Victoria from the Ark are spending their school break with their mother out in Swakop so I had some company for the ride out. I arrived in Arandis after dark and made my way to Mike Dunne’s house which will be my new home for the next 2 and a half months.

It's only been one night but I’m still convinced that living with other people is a positive thing. At Dieter’s place I was quite secluded and independent. Here I have neighbors quite close and share a living space. Living in community creates tension and the bumps and rubs along the way remind me that I’m not the center of my own universe. But for now I’m still just settling in and excited to be here and start getting involved in ministry.

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.

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.

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.

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?"

No wonder this man was excommunicated, labeled a heretic and condemned under penalty of death!

Epupa Falls (Opuwo Part 3)

With the following Monday being a national holiday, all the hostel kids would be going home for the weekend. Since school visits were our main ministry focus, that left us without much to do over the weekend. Japie suggested the option of driving 2-3 hours north to Epupa Falls on the Kunene River, the northern border between Namibia and Angola. We could help clean up the area since most locals bathe and do laundry there but leave lots of rubbish around. There was also a possibility for another school visit on the way.

To figure out whether to go or stay, Japie asked us to pray and ask God to reveal what He would have us do. Thursday night, the day before we would go, we sat down as a group to chat about what we’d heard from God. Quite naturally, this decision was cause for much debate amongst the team. Some felt we’d already done too much touristy stuff already and should stay for more ministry opportunities. Others felt we’d have more opportunities if we went. But Japie reminded us that this team was not a democracy, so a majority vote wouldn’t win. Our team was under God’s authority, so if we didn’t have a unanimous peace about going then we couldn’t go. We went to bed that night with no decision, no peace, and a team that was beginning to polarize.

The next morning we arose early for our last school assembly. Back at camp we spent half an hour individually praying and reading the Bible asking God for a word. When we got back together everyone shared what they’d heard. I had read Ezekiel and his vision of the four cherubim with wheels underneath them that moved with them. He wrote that the wheels went wherever the cherubim went “because they had the spirit of the cherubim in them.” In the same way, we should go where God goes because we have the Spirit of God in us. I really wanted to go to the Falls and masked it in sound reasoning, but at the root, my motivations were selfish. Deep down I knew that it would be best for the team to stay and get involved in the community in Opuwo. After everyone shared there was still no unanimous peace about going, so we stayed.

It may seem like a small decision in hindsight, but the tension provided a great learning opportunity. As Americans we’re used to our independence. We make decisions by listing the pros and cons of each side and ultimately choosing what seems best to us. Seeking God and waiting for His peace is a strange concept to us. I mean, sure, many of us offer the token prayer to say we asked for God’s direction, but really we end up making the decision ourselves. But I was struck by how Japie never asked us to decide; he asked us to pray. Rather than making the decision, we were seeking the decision God had already made. We were asking Him to bring our hearts and wills in line with His own. That kinda made me think that Epupa was never really the point in the first place, but this whole learning process was.

Later that morning Japie sent us out in pairs into town to pray and ask God what ministry opportunities He had for us. Looking back, this time of walking around town proved to be some of the best memories for many on the team. I set out with Caryn, a photo journalist major from Texas who’s here for 2 months with OM and joined as the team’s photographer. Rather than hit the main street we walked across the road to where people lived in mud or thatched huts. We slowly made our way to an open air market where all the locals hung out. We stuck out like a Yankees fan in Fenway, but they were very friendly and welcoming. The town is quite used to seeing tourists passing through on their way to Epupa hoping for a glimpse of some traditional Himbas. What they’re not used to is whites visiting their homes, praying for the sick, and mingling at the market. We scattered lots more seed that morning. How it will grow we may never know, but had we gone to Epupa it never would’ve been scattered in the first place.

Surviving without (Opuwo Part 1)

It’s hard to even know where to start since the last two weeks tend to blur together. And once again, I’m sure it’ll take multiple posts to describe. When I first agreed to join the OM outreach with a team of 11 students from Palm Beach Atlantic University as an extra driver I figured it’d be a good opportunity to see more of Namibia and hang out with some fellow Americans. I should have known God would turn it into so much more than that.

Saturday we drove up to Outjo where we stayed with some full-time South African missionaries involved with Kunene for Christ (Kunene is the name of the northwest region). The next morning we taught two Sunday school classes at their church. Drew was the teams only musician and he’s a drummer, so I got drafted to play guitar, which worked out well because then I didn’t have to do all the silly motions for “Making Melodies”. :)

After church we left straight for an overnight in Etosha. I missed the part where we weren’t going back to the guesthouse before leaving, so I left behind my camera and the shorts I was going to change into. I tried going back for them but the place was locked up and the missionaries had left for a bush church. Needless to say, I was quite upset.

You all know how much I’ve enjoyed photography this trip, and now I would be heading to Etosha, the wildlife capitol of Namibia, without my camera. I spent the whole hours ride from Outjo to Etosha arguing with God about it, but like the Patriots in the Super Bowl, I knew there was nothing I could do to go back and change it now. If I really believe in the sovereignty of God in all things then I must believe that He allowed me to leave my camera behind, therefore my anger was really rebellion against God. That hour also gave me a long time to think about why I take pictures, if I’m really putting God’s glory on display or if I’m simply raping the experience for my own pleasure. I didn’t voice much during the drive, but by the time we got to the Etosha gate I had come to some peace with it.

Over the next 24 hours I saw some awesome wildlife that would’ve made for some great pics, and I was still torn inside wanting to capture that perfect shot, but I was reminded not to lose the joy of the experience in the distance of my focal length.

Revival

I think I’ve caught Revival fever. Everyone who spends much time with this girl seems to fall for her. Sure, she can be a handful at times because she’s partially deaf so she can’t speak well either. She gets easily distracted and is so curious about everything, but her huge, loving smile is so contagious. When I visited their house on Thursday and she took my hand and pointed to the picture of me and her that was on their shelf…you can’t beat that.

Monday morning at day camp we went hiking up the small mountain outside Arandis. On the way back down, Revival clung to my hand with the utmost trust. If she were to slip or misstep, she had no doubt that I would hold her up. That afternoon when Karrie found a chameleon, I let her hold it a little bit. As it crawled up her arm she was thrilled, not a hint of fear. Sometimes I wonder if she doesn’t understand that she’s ‘suppose’ to be afraid of some things, or if she really does just trust that people won’t let her get hurt. For her, maybe it’s a bit of both. Sometimes I wonder if Christians are just too ignorant and foolish to know better, or if we really do trust God to know what’s best for us.

More thoughts on missions (Mariental Part 4)

When all was said and done they had gathered salvation cards from about 4% of the 13,000 people who live in Mariental. Then on top of that were the multitude of people who were prayed for or preached to in their homes. In one weekend, hundreds of seeds were sown for the gospel, but what now? A “Jesus Film” team will be spending the next two weeks there, but is that sufficient?

This always seems to be the looming question when it comes to short-term missions. It’s easy enough to descend on a place for a weekend or a 2 week missions trip, collect hundreds of professions of faith, and leave with promises to pray for the new believers. But making disciples has never been a short-term commitment. Jesus shared his life for 3 years with his disciples before they were released to unleash the gospel on the world. Paul stayed in one place for months or even years at a time if he could before moving on to the next city. Making disciples means walking a road with people. It’s not just about “baptizing them in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” but also includes “teaching them to obey all that I have commanded you.” (Matt 28:19-20) This has always been my issue with short-term missions.

But on the other hand, Jesus, Paul, the disciples, they all left. They equipped new believers to carry on the mission in their own community. Missions isn’t meant to be a long-term commitment either. How often do missionaries today settle in a particular community rather than equipping the local believers to fulfill the mission that God has called them to? Maybe we have a sovereignty complex thinking that we’re the ones that make people into good little Christians. But it is “He who began a good work in you [who] is faithful to complete it.” (Phil 1:6) This is my issue with long-term missions.

So do we abandon missions all together? By no means! Part of that mission was to make disciples of “all nations.” We absolutely must take the gospel to those who have never heard. But we must also release new believers to take part in that mission. If short-term missions releases them without equipping them, and long-term missions never releases them, then we must find somewhere in between that equips local believers and releases them in their own communities. In other words, missionaries should be working themselves out of a job by training and equipping local believers to make disciples.

By release I do not mean abandon. Jesus returned to the Father, but sent the Holy Spirit. Paul sent letters back to the churches he had planted to rebuke and correct them as well as encourage them. He also returned to many of those places reconnecting with old friends. In this age of technology and transportation it makes such connections even simpler. Making disciples of all nations has never seemed more plausible. But we may need a major paradigm shift in the way we think about missions. What do you think?

African teenagers (Mariental Part 3)

Sunday morning we held our last big session joined by several local churches. Afterward, our leadership team gathered with all the local pastors and had a very encouraging time together. Then we moved out like the circus leaving town. The tents came down, the stage and sound system disassembled, and just like that you’d have never known we were there except for the work God had done in people’s hearts.

The train wouldn’t arrive until midnight so we had the whole afternoon and evening to rest and spend some last free time together before I would leave my new friends for possibly the last time. It amazed even me how much I came to care for them after only one week. One of my goals in coming for the year was to learn more about teenagers in Africa. Being the only white guy amidst all these black kids allowed me to approach them on their turf. I was able to experience a whole variety of personalities and conversations that may typically be covered over with cordiality. They were extremely open and accepting and never seemed to mind all my inquisitive questions, probably because I never seemed to mind theirs either.

Three things this weekend were very affirming in my quest for cultural significance: 1) People start talking to me in Afrikaans. That means I don’t look too American. :) 2) At meal times, people tend to group with those they’re most comfortable. All the white Afrikaaners from Emmanuel Church ate together, while I was the only white face amongst the sea of black teenagers. Not that that makes me better than them, but it just struck me who I found myself more comfortable with. 3) In a conversation with Valery, one of the youth leaders, she told me, “I’m not afraid of anybody. If I have a problem with you, I will tell you to your face. If you weren’t so down to earth, I would tell you to come down to earth.”

Everyone asks me about the differences between kids in America and kids in Africa, but I’m more intrigued by the similarities. Teenagers are teenagers. They all deal with the same issues of insecurity and how to find acceptance. Sure, some of the real life problems are different than kids in suburban New Hampshire, but the root issues are often the same. And most of all, kids love to be loved, and to be known. There’s no substitute for greeting someone by name, and nothing more priceless than the smirk when you attempt it in their native language.

I think we’re often afraid of things we don’t understand, that includes people who are different than us. Sometimes that means different age, income, skin complexion, or differently-abled (a redemptive term for our word disabled). Living here has helped me learn not to be afraid, but instead to ask honest questions. Behind every face is a soul in need of God’s love, so I choose to trade intimidation for understanding, fear for friendship, and prejudice for love.

100

I used to think of Orion as a decent sized constellation, but not that big compared to Taurus or the Scorpion. But that was before I saw the flashing light of a plane flying through the middle of "The Hunter”. I’ve stood next to planes. I know how big they are. But this one, as it inched across the constellation, was no bigger than one of the stars making up his shape. Now I look up at the western sky and Orion looks enormous.

It is the Lord who created the stars, the Pleiades and Orion. It is he who turns blackness into dawn and darkens day into night; who draws up water from the oceans and pours it down as rain on the land. The Lord is his name! ~Amos 5:8

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Guinea fowl are usually pretty timid, but making it’s home in the Windhoek Botanical Gardens, this one probably sees it’s fair share of inquisitive tourists. It was quite a peaceful walk through the hills enjoying the quiver trees and the bottle trees and the Windhoek Aloe in full bloom. It’s these little things that you don’t have the chance to appreciate when you’re in and out in two short weeks.

I’m pretty excited about the Judea Harvest youth camp next week. Like I said, I’ll be teaching a volleyball clinic in the late morning, but I also volunteered to be a part of the worship team. There will be over 100 kids from churches all around Windhoek. They’ll spend Sunday night through Thursday here at the plot learning evangelism training and other life skills. Then over the weekend I’ll join them down in Mariental (an hour and a half south of Rehoboth) for an outreach to put their training into practice. It should be a great week…although it does mean I’ll miss the bazaar in Arandis which I’m kinda disappointed about.

Other random updates: The animal adventures continue…I’ve killed 4 mice in my house within the last week. For those animal rights people, there are still plenty around even without those who desire to reside in my home. I also skidded out pretty hard core on a bike the other day and scraped up my knee pretty badly. It looks rough, but it’s already on the mend. And as surprising as it may sound, I found a juice I think I like better than Juicy Fruit’s Mango Orange. Fruitree’s Clear Apple juice is phenomenal! With every cup it’s as though I’d forgotten how good it was!

Liars make more friends

I noticed a girl blatantly lie today telling someone she was in sixth grade when she’s really in fourth. I noticed it because she’s lied to me before for the same reason. She doesn’t feel like she’s adequate or good enough for people to like her so she ‘improves’ on the truth to make herself look better. It got me thinking, how often do we do the same thing to each other? How often do we put our ‘best foot forward’ or pretty ourselves up before we walk out the door in efforts to cover up what we see as inadequacies. I know I’ve been guilty of not sharing ‘the whole story’ when it might make me look bad. So in trying to get to the bottom of this phenomenon I asked myself, ‘how does it feel when this girl lies to me to make herself seem better in my eyes?’ That’s when I realized, what she’s really saying is, ‘I don’t trust you enough to love me just the way I am.’ She feels she somehow needs to embellish her image to make sure I don't decide she's no longer worthy of my love. She’s not protecting her image. She’s doubting my love.

How often do we do the very same thing to God? We put all our best, most noble deeds on the altar as if that would somehow improve our standing in His omniscient eyes. We come to church dressed to impress, showing off how spiritual we’ve become. We convince everyone else by serving in every possible ministry in the church. And all the while we’re lying to ourselves thinking God must be happy with me because I do so much for Him. What we’re really saying is, ‘God, I don’t trust you enough to love me as the wretched sinner I know I really am.’ But He is God, not a man. He is the One who can truly love unconditionally because He defines love. (1 Jn 4:8) It was while we were sinners that Christ died for us. (Rom 5:8) He came not to save those who thought they were righteous, but those who knew they were sinners. (Matt 9:13; Luk 19:10) The references abound, shall I continue? His history with Jacob, Moses, the whole nation of Israel, David, Peter, Paul, as well as other less notorious sinners speaks for itself. What is there left to doubt?

Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Snide remarks?

A long walk home

Late yesterday afternoon, I opted for a little cultural experience of my own. After hanging out at the Ark, I had a little grocery shopping to do in town, then I decided rather than catch a taxi I would just walk home. I figured people in Vyf Rand do it all the time and I wanted to see what it was like. It’s probably a good 7-10km or more from the Spar to the plot, but I had the time and the daylight (or so I thought) so I gave it a go. You definitely meet more people by walking, other people walking, or people you pass. Two times people asked me for money or some bread (that’s not unusual, it happens all the time). And I couldn’t help feeling the strange looks as if to say, “Why is a white guy walking?” Afterall, it’s not something they see everyday. I finally strolled up to the gate well after sunset, my grocery bags weighing far more than usual. As educational as it was, I think next time I may stick with the taxi.

I realized the other day how acclimated I’m becoming when a new volunteer walked through the sitting room at the Ark and my first questions after the intros were, “Where are you from, and how long are you here?” Seriously, those are the first questions everybody asks here. I always thought that was just a normal way to start conversation when people used to ask me those questions. Now I realize (at least for me) I want to know if this is a fellow American I may have something in common with, and how much should I bother investing in this relationship if they’re just going to leave. I know it sounds bad, but that’s the reality of it. So many people come and go that if they’re only here for 2 weeks or a month than you only invest enough to get by. Why bother becoming best friends if you know they’re just going to leave? But if someone’s here for 3 months, 6 months, a year, then you’re willing to invest a little more, because you know they’ll be around for a while. It’s really a curious phenomenon, not a conscious thing, just simply a reflection of the reality of the situation. I just didn’t really realize it until I heard the words coming out of my own mouth.

Sweet Sorrow

With the time change in the States, I’m now only 6 hours ahead of EST. After the first weekend of April when we change our clocks, it will only be 5 hours. For those trying to do the math and not adding up, it’s because we’re in 2 different hemispheres so we change in opposite directions. In the north it’s “spring ahead, fall back”. Down here, it’s “fall forward, spring back”.

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Today’s my last full day with Don & Jackie. I take them to the airport at about noon tomorrow to send them back to life in the States. It’s been great spending some time with them. They definitely bring an American sense of humor which has been fun to share. They also brought some tastes from home (Nutty Bars, Reeses Pieces, M&Ms, and such). But more importantly, they brought my first experience with hosting short-termers from home. They’ve helped restore my faith in short-term missions because there definitely is some value.

Short-termers bring an encouragement to long-termers by simply listening and getting excited with us about what we’re doing. Nothing increases ones joy more than sharing the thing that you love. Like recommending a good book, their love for the ministry brings a revitalizing joy. They also bring a renewed energy to the ministry. Where it often becomes everyday life for us, they realize they only have so much time and want to pack it full of opportunity. Just for now, I’ve associated myself with the long-termers only because I’m here longer than my visiting friends. However, I more than recognize even my year is very short term. The long-termers I’ve come to respect and love are those who’re committed to 10yrs, 20yrs, or a lifetime of service.

To shoot or not to shoot

As promised, I thought I’d share a few thoughts about photography and ministry in Africa. This is only from my experience so I’m sure others will have differing opinions. You may have noticed that thus far I haven’t posted many pictures of people or ministry. It’s all been sunsets or insects or doors or random other things that caught my eye. The trouble is tourism is the number one industry in Namibia. People come from all over the world to snap photos of animals at Etosha or one of the many other wildlife reserves. They’re coming to an intriguing culture so they shoot photos of things that are quite normal here but are new and different to them, sort of like the Japanese tourists who take pictures of squirrels. One American saw a man thatching a roof and stopped for a photo of what was this man’s ordinary, everyday job. But that mentality has transferred over to poverty. Squatter’s camps and people in poverty become a tourist attraction. They take pictures of the ‘poor’ Africans just like they’re animals in Etosha. Some have even promised to send back the money they make from the photos, but the people never see those benefits. It’s become an industry based on exploitation and it’s saddening.

As a result, I’m very careful when and where I pull out my camera. As one here to immerse himself in the culture the easiest way to ruin that is to come across as just another tourist. Tourists come for their own interests, not the interests of others. Tourists don’t build relationships. They keep the people at a distance through the lens of their camera. The irony is that photos are more than welcome within the framework of relationship. It’s natural to take pictures of and with your friends. The photographer in me cringes every time I have to pass by a beautiful photo op, but I understand that’s not my purpose. I’m here to share God’s love with people, not just shoot cool photos. Some may say, ‘But you could share these photos with the first world to communicate the truth and make a difference,’ but sometimes the best way to make a difference is to put the camera away and share your heart instead.

Christmas in Africa

Apparently Christmas isn’t quite as big a deal here as it is in America, so Toivo didn’t quite understand my enthusiasm and countdown until midnight on Christmas Eve. We had a lovely Christmas Eve service at Nan’s house. I was expecting to play guitar for the children to sing a few songs since that’s what we had practiced together on Saturday, but here you can’t hold too tightly to your expectations. Instead Tresford gave a lovely reading of the Christmas story interspersed with a few songs, then we all shared refreshments afterward.

The next morning all the Hope’s Promise families and friends were caravanned out to the pool at the old Rossing Country Club. We swam, played soccer, and had a brai (an African barbeque or cookout), then I joined Brenda and Co. back at her place to exchange gifts. It was cool getting to know some of the Hope’s Promise kids that I didn’t know really well.

With so many American volunteers coming and going I wonder how attached these kids really get, knowing that we’ll leave again in a week. Probably not nearly as attached as we get to them. That’s why I think consistency and long-term relationship are so important to ministry. That’s why we don’t just support missionaries at Christ’s Church, we support partners. That’s why we’ve been back to Namibia summer after summer with many team members returning multiple times. That’s why I’m hoping to stay for a whole year. And that’s why being in Arandis for this week almost makes me want to stay here rather than return to Okahandja next week.

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I’ve been thinking about career missions and ministry in the States. Listening to Ron Gardner, pastor at Emmanuel Church in Windhoek, Dieter and Joan’s sending church, he puts a major emphasis on being called to Namibia because that’s their home. And I recognize that the people I best understand and can relate to are New Englanders, especially those who have grown up in church, mostly because that’s who I am. There’s so many more cultural barriers I have to work through to minister elsewhere, whereas my environment has already shaped me perfectly to minister in a church in New England.

Then I watch a film about Mother Theresa who lived with and ministered to the poorest of the poor on the streets of Calcutta, India. No one will convince me that the poorest of the poor live in Amherst, NH, not after what I’ve seen here, and what Mother Theresa dealt with in India. I recognize that over 95% of the world’s youth leaders work with only 5% of the worlds youth population in the United States, leaving only 5% of the world’s youth leaders to work with 95% of the world’s youth. I know that 50% of the Namibian population is under 15 years old. The parents of this generation are dying off because of AIDS leaving thousands of orphans and grandparents or relatives that remain raise 10-12 kids at a time. And Namibia’s not the only place in such rough shape.

But I’m also fully aware that it was Mother Theresa who said, “Calcutta’s are everywhere. You just have to find yours.” There is suffering and spiritual poverty in the rich world as well; you just have to open your eyes to it. So I continue pondering career missions or ministry in the States. Penny for your thoughts?