We have a love/hate thing with our sidewalk. To most people it's
just a normal sidewalk, but to us it's a long skinny barrier the divides
two very different worlds.
This is an extremely
unique setting in many ways, but one way is how suddenly the world as
you knew it changes over to something unfamiliar and occasionally
overwhelming. When people normally enter cultures so opposite to their
own, a car ride plus a long flight (or flights) plus another long car
ride usually provide some much needed time to turn one switch off and
another switch on. We have about a 2 second hump to drive across and
our parallel universe switch is now forced on.
On
the south side of the sidewalk lies the America that we all know and
love. Trust me when I say, we love America. We love that we can still
eat all of our favorite foods, shop at the grocery stores we are
familiar with, get anything that we want or need, order something online
and it arrives a few days later, receive regular mail, drive on roads
that don't make us crazy (relatively speaking), communicate clearly,
worship freely, visit all of our friends and family with relative ease,
see baseball games, get babysitters... on and on. We love that we can
go to the bank, the grocery store, Target and stop for food all in one
afternoon. Ya know, America! Easy, familiar, convenient and extremely
efficient.
And then there's the north side. This
world, where we spend much of our time, is completely opposite. I wish
by reading words you could imagine the feel of life here, but there's
much that is lost without actually seeing it, walking it, and yes,
smelling it :). My family is visiting for Thanksgiving and when my
parents pulled in to the complex my mom said very slowly, "It's like a
completely different world" as the sea of children parted ways in the
street to let the car pass. My sister sat on our patio and asked
question after question for almost a full hour. It takes a lot of time
to process just how different the world is on this side of the sidewalk.
It's not a complex with refugees, it's a refugee
complex. It's literally like another country. But instead of one
culture and language, there are 15 totally different cultures and
languages. As in other countries, accomplishing the small tasks of life
is ssss-lllll-oooooo-wwwww here. To go do laundry takes a long, long
time. Many times walking to throw the clothes in turns into an
invitation to have some tea or fruit in someone's home, and a 10 minute
trip turns into an entire afternoon... and the laundry hasn't even been
switched yet. All of life is that way here, any task outside of this
apartment needs to be multiplied by 26 to correctly estimate when that
task will be complete. Okay, maybe by 4 or 8, but you get the point.
As
culturally sensitive as I think I am, nothing spells "American" more
than being yanked out of a white middle-class suburban neighborhood and
dropped in the midst of a life that is slow, relational above all else,
slow, all things in common, slow, neighbors = family, slow, and you
always must be ready for company... and I mean always. There's no
structure, little convenience, and things like problem solving or being
proactive are foreign concepts. This, for an American, is enough to buy
a one-way ticket on a slow boat to China. Well truthfully that's only
the case a small percentage of the time. More often than not, I find
myself longing to be home in the village when I'm out and about being a
productive American. I love the security, the unspoken love, the
ability to feel warmth down in my heart just by looking at people smile
at us, the fact that my babies are learning that people are more
important than time or a checklist. There are beautiful qualities that
I'm jealous for and comforted by on the north side of the sidewalk.
We
would both agree that the hardest part of our new lives is that we have
to transition so quickly between worlds, that we have to constantly
turn our switch on and off depending on which side of the sidewalk we
are on. We do not have the luxury of being thousands of miles away from
home to detach completely from the comforts and mindset of America, we
must learn to adapt and function successfully in both. This is a tough
feat.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
Monday, November 21, 2011
Thursday, November 17, 2011
We're not in Kansas anymore
Well... I've been staying away... purposefully. I guess the seemingly sudden transition from our exotic global village honeymoon to "what were we thinking??" reality took me by surprise and it's taken some weeks now to process and stand on some steady, reality-rooted ground. It comes and goes... but at least it's in sight now! Isn't God good to bring us to the end of ourselves so He can show us Himself??
This happened when I was in Kenya. The strange bugs were "interested and amazing!", the awful pollution made me feel "so sad that all of these nationals have to breathe this :(", the food was a fun cultural experience and a neat bridge of trust to build with my new African friends, the mosquito nets were like real and exciting 3rd world living, the constant (and I mean constant) bouts of illness made me feel honored that God would esteem me worthy to experience what so many in the world face constantly, the cold showers reminded me of how on the edge I was living and I loved it! Fast forward a few months and it aaaalllllllll changed.
The bugs were freakishly large and "interesting" was at the bottom of the list as far as adjectives I thought of when being affronted by these little devils - surely God accidentally spoke these into existence... he must have coughed or sneezed in the middle of creating other bugs and these were the result. The pollution made me want to scream "Ever heard of a smog test???" during my morning prayer walks (yes, I know), the food.... oh the food... let's just say that God is faithful to answer prayers when you say, "Lord, if you don't keep this food down my throat I WILL throw it up all over their table and shame them to no end!". The mosquitos defied my nets and had a love affair with my feet, the cold showers made me go stinky and HEY that meant I was fitting in better!, and the illnesses that drove me to be alone for hours and days at a time were very difficult to see God in (but He was there!!). The sunshine, puppies and ice cream became gray skies, mangy Tijuana street dogs and Fear Factor food.
Life here has faded into reality also. The excitement of everyone being so communal is actually a problem... they need to assimilate to America, learn the language and get jobs. The different groups are each very set in their ways and mainly trust their own people, who do not know what it takes to make it in this country. The friendships by nature of their culture are all very easy to establish, but very shallow in depth. I can go on and on about the 47 mothers I've gained since being here and how none of them think my babies are ever dressed enough and might freeze to death if 2 more sweaters aren't heaped on them in 70 degree cloudy weather, how the kids decided knocking on the door is too much work and jumping our gate and opening the patio door to come in and play is much easier.
What has been constant through these scenarios are two things: Jesus and Jeff Jackson! Jeff is our Pastor and I met him when he trained myself along with 7 other missionaries getting ready to go into the mission field. He knows a lot about a lot, but cultural insight seems to be at the top of his gifts in my opinion. I was prepped going into Kenya and could senses my emotions shift so I could decipher things really well... but in this situation I was shocked at how sudden and sad it was! He brought us both back down to reality and reminded us that we aren't flung out here alone despite our feelings, our church body is still beside us, lifting us in prayer and loving on us, that all of our feelings are totally normal, that we are literally in the middle of the trenches completely submerged in a cross-cultural setting. I suppose the biggest comfort is knowing we aren't alone, that in the midst of the seemingly unattainable goals we are probably here so God can accomplish great things inside of us... not because of us or through us.
We truly are living in a global village, and all that separates us from the America you live in is a sidewalk. And that sidewalk makes all the difference in our world. More on that next time. Please pray for us :) I'm making dishes today and tomorrow to deliver to some of the families and begin more of this relationships via food thing.
This happened when I was in Kenya. The strange bugs were "interested and amazing!", the awful pollution made me feel "so sad that all of these nationals have to breathe this :(", the food was a fun cultural experience and a neat bridge of trust to build with my new African friends, the mosquito nets were like real and exciting 3rd world living, the constant (and I mean constant) bouts of illness made me feel honored that God would esteem me worthy to experience what so many in the world face constantly, the cold showers reminded me of how on the edge I was living and I loved it! Fast forward a few months and it aaaalllllllll changed.
The bugs were freakishly large and "interesting" was at the bottom of the list as far as adjectives I thought of when being affronted by these little devils - surely God accidentally spoke these into existence... he must have coughed or sneezed in the middle of creating other bugs and these were the result. The pollution made me want to scream "Ever heard of a smog test???" during my morning prayer walks (yes, I know), the food.... oh the food... let's just say that God is faithful to answer prayers when you say, "Lord, if you don't keep this food down my throat I WILL throw it up all over their table and shame them to no end!". The mosquitos defied my nets and had a love affair with my feet, the cold showers made me go stinky and HEY that meant I was fitting in better!, and the illnesses that drove me to be alone for hours and days at a time were very difficult to see God in (but He was there!!). The sunshine, puppies and ice cream became gray skies, mangy Tijuana street dogs and Fear Factor food.
Life here has faded into reality also. The excitement of everyone being so communal is actually a problem... they need to assimilate to America, learn the language and get jobs. The different groups are each very set in their ways and mainly trust their own people, who do not know what it takes to make it in this country. The friendships by nature of their culture are all very easy to establish, but very shallow in depth. I can go on and on about the 47 mothers I've gained since being here and how none of them think my babies are ever dressed enough and might freeze to death if 2 more sweaters aren't heaped on them in 70 degree cloudy weather, how the kids decided knocking on the door is too much work and jumping our gate and opening the patio door to come in and play is much easier.
What has been constant through these scenarios are two things: Jesus and Jeff Jackson! Jeff is our Pastor and I met him when he trained myself along with 7 other missionaries getting ready to go into the mission field. He knows a lot about a lot, but cultural insight seems to be at the top of his gifts in my opinion. I was prepped going into Kenya and could senses my emotions shift so I could decipher things really well... but in this situation I was shocked at how sudden and sad it was! He brought us both back down to reality and reminded us that we aren't flung out here alone despite our feelings, our church body is still beside us, lifting us in prayer and loving on us, that all of our feelings are totally normal, that we are literally in the middle of the trenches completely submerged in a cross-cultural setting. I suppose the biggest comfort is knowing we aren't alone, that in the midst of the seemingly unattainable goals we are probably here so God can accomplish great things inside of us... not because of us or through us.
We truly are living in a global village, and all that separates us from the America you live in is a sidewalk. And that sidewalk makes all the difference in our world. More on that next time. Please pray for us :) I'm making dishes today and tomorrow to deliver to some of the families and begin more of this relationships via food thing.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Where God says Follow, He also says Swallow
Well I haven't written in awhile... mostly because I'm in a quiet, sober place right now. More on that later... but to pave the way for more writing I thought a funny story would do me well. Well, funny a bit... gross a lot... and anger-inducing for my special someone. Intrigued?
FOOD. One of the most important extensions of friendship in cross-cultural ministry... if not the most important. If we are invited to someones home, or happen to be walking around and they lead us ever so lightly (ha!) by the hand into their apartment and begin sharing food with us... there is just no question about it. You eat the food, you eat it happily, and if they give you more... you eat that too. So far I've had some funny run-in's with the delicate balance of honoring them and trusting the by receiving this gift of friendship VERSUS keeping it down and not losing it all over the plate, thus shaming them for a lifetime! So far I have succeeded... but that almost came to an end yesterday.
It all started the first week we lived here. I delivered some fresh baked cookies to a family (I will leave details out, heaven forbid they ever read this!). As is customary in these cultures, I fully expected them to return my plate with another treat. Well weeks went by and finally they came back with some of their own cookies plus an entire pot of dinner for us. This particular dish we've had before and neither one of us desired to willfully partake inside the privacy of our own home so we just let it sit there while we ate our own yummy American food. The next day (yesterday) I was coming home from the gym and the wife/cook sees me hauling both my sleepy kids to my door and in true community fashion, she picks up a kid and starts trailing behind me to come into the house and help. NOW... if I thought she might just drop him at the door and consider her help over I wouldn't have panicked... but they NEVER stop at the door. How American would that be? They come in, pick up toys, close my open cabinets, put extra sweaters on my kids because apparently they are never warm enough.
So there I was, pretending not to find the right key to get into the house, sorting out how I could hide the dish without her knowing. My success in this moment determined the fate of our friendship with this family and if I would shame her beyond our American comprehension. So I rush in and take the lid off and dump the whole dish down the sink and stick the empty pot over the drain. She walks in behind me, after about 3 seconds sees the empty pot, smiles, I smile back... pat my tummy and say "Excellent!!" in her language. She lit up and was so happy that we ate all of her dish and thought it was amazing. She left and the second wave of panic set in. How on earth can I get this out of the sink? I knew it wouldn't clear the pipes... and I made one large mess... and the topper was that I had to work in the office an hour later. So I got around, my husband came home and I left him with two babies and a clogged sink full of food he had no desire to eat let alone sift through with nasty additions that have been sitting in the drain pipes.
Long story short, they had to snake the pipe (eeeek!!) and the water (if you can call it that) slushed out all over the tile and was quite the scene. The second I walked in two hours later my husband said, "TAG" and walked out. He needed some alone time.
Moral of the story? Use the trash next time... and do it the night before. What a mess.
FOOD. One of the most important extensions of friendship in cross-cultural ministry... if not the most important. If we are invited to someones home, or happen to be walking around and they lead us ever so lightly (ha!) by the hand into their apartment and begin sharing food with us... there is just no question about it. You eat the food, you eat it happily, and if they give you more... you eat that too. So far I've had some funny run-in's with the delicate balance of honoring them and trusting the by receiving this gift of friendship VERSUS keeping it down and not losing it all over the plate, thus shaming them for a lifetime! So far I have succeeded... but that almost came to an end yesterday.
It all started the first week we lived here. I delivered some fresh baked cookies to a family (I will leave details out, heaven forbid they ever read this!). As is customary in these cultures, I fully expected them to return my plate with another treat. Well weeks went by and finally they came back with some of their own cookies plus an entire pot of dinner for us. This particular dish we've had before and neither one of us desired to willfully partake inside the privacy of our own home so we just let it sit there while we ate our own yummy American food. The next day (yesterday) I was coming home from the gym and the wife/cook sees me hauling both my sleepy kids to my door and in true community fashion, she picks up a kid and starts trailing behind me to come into the house and help. NOW... if I thought she might just drop him at the door and consider her help over I wouldn't have panicked... but they NEVER stop at the door. How American would that be? They come in, pick up toys, close my open cabinets, put extra sweaters on my kids because apparently they are never warm enough.
So there I was, pretending not to find the right key to get into the house, sorting out how I could hide the dish without her knowing. My success in this moment determined the fate of our friendship with this family and if I would shame her beyond our American comprehension. So I rush in and take the lid off and dump the whole dish down the sink and stick the empty pot over the drain. She walks in behind me, after about 3 seconds sees the empty pot, smiles, I smile back... pat my tummy and say "Excellent!!" in her language. She lit up and was so happy that we ate all of her dish and thought it was amazing. She left and the second wave of panic set in. How on earth can I get this out of the sink? I knew it wouldn't clear the pipes... and I made one large mess... and the topper was that I had to work in the office an hour later. So I got around, my husband came home and I left him with two babies and a clogged sink full of food he had no desire to eat let alone sift through with nasty additions that have been sitting in the drain pipes.
Long story short, they had to snake the pipe (eeeek!!) and the water (if you can call it that) slushed out all over the tile and was quite the scene. The second I walked in two hours later my husband said, "TAG" and walked out. He needed some alone time.
Moral of the story? Use the trash next time... and do it the night before. What a mess.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
One stinky heart
Today is day three of no hot water and I'm getting stinky. I realized this morning as I was reading my bible that more than my outside body feeling the stink of no shower for 3 days... my heart was the one that seemed dirtier. I sit here amazed at how far gone my perspective on life has become. This attitude of entitlement is all-consuming, and when I don't get what I think I am due... my heart gets real stinky. It's interesting that the things that I have had all my life (showers, shelter, clothes... nice, cute, appropriately sized clothes) somehow seem mandatory and flat-out deserved. It is ugly, and He took my water to show me just how dirty my heart really is.
God has been stretching us in ways we have never known... and I'm thankful on this morning that He has pulled back another layer of my heart by taking away a simple luxury like hot water. When I was in Kenya, all the believers in our church came from the slum directly behind the church building. They all bathed out of buckets with soap and cold water outside of their 12'x12' homes made out of concrete slabs and corrugated metal walls. To this day I have never seen a clearer, more inspiring picture of hearts so in love with God and so confident in His sufficiency. So many people here came from camp-life and had to be taught how a shower works... and I bet on this morning they are not griping about being unable to bathe. They are adjusting and they are just getting on with the show. I am writing a blog about it. Oh Lord... clean my stinky, stinky heart.
God has been stretching us in ways we have never known... and I'm thankful on this morning that He has pulled back another layer of my heart by taking away a simple luxury like hot water. When I was in Kenya, all the believers in our church came from the slum directly behind the church building. They all bathed out of buckets with soap and cold water outside of their 12'x12' homes made out of concrete slabs and corrugated metal walls. To this day I have never seen a clearer, more inspiring picture of hearts so in love with God and so confident in His sufficiency. So many people here came from camp-life and had to be taught how a shower works... and I bet on this morning they are not griping about being unable to bathe. They are adjusting and they are just getting on with the show. I am writing a blog about it. Oh Lord... clean my stinky, stinky heart.
Thursday, October 27, 2011
Community... a novel idea
I am amidst a revolutionary idea... I hope you are sitting down for this one. Neighbors!! I mean the kind you (dare I say it)... TALK TO! Like.... every day!! I knew it was a lot, I hope you are okay!
The moment I drive up, whether I have groceries or just my normal load of two babies... I'm greeted nine times out of ten with eager helpers of all ages and ethnic groups. When someone sees Levi struggling in his walk to the apartment, he just gets scooped up and taken into my house. If we wander around the complex I can only get as far as one unit away before an hour has passed and it's time to eat dinner. I'm thinking of driving to the opposite side of the buildings and then walking around so I can visit with the other half of the residents here! It is a joke of course but only to illustrate how refreshingly un-American life is here. People make people the priority. I've never seen this in action, and it is a beautiful, infectious habit.
This idea just came to me so I hope it makes sense... living here makes me feel like I'm at a giant family reunion where I don't know anyone but somehow I know instinctively that we have a connection and a certain level of trust that wasn't really earned. What is that? Ahhhh... community. Selflessness. Looking out for the group. Ya know... how the rest of the world does life. I like it. I like it a lot.
The moment I drive up, whether I have groceries or just my normal load of two babies... I'm greeted nine times out of ten with eager helpers of all ages and ethnic groups. When someone sees Levi struggling in his walk to the apartment, he just gets scooped up and taken into my house. If we wander around the complex I can only get as far as one unit away before an hour has passed and it's time to eat dinner. I'm thinking of driving to the opposite side of the buildings and then walking around so I can visit with the other half of the residents here! It is a joke of course but only to illustrate how refreshingly un-American life is here. People make people the priority. I've never seen this in action, and it is a beautiful, infectious habit.
This idea just came to me so I hope it makes sense... living here makes me feel like I'm at a giant family reunion where I don't know anyone but somehow I know instinctively that we have a connection and a certain level of trust that wasn't really earned. What is that? Ahhhh... community. Selflessness. Looking out for the group. Ya know... how the rest of the world does life. I like it. I like it a lot.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
This land was made for you and me
Ever wonder what it would be like to be torn from your home and forced to retreat to a border country in order to remain alive?? Your house and all of your possessions have been burned to the ground... family members and friends have been killed. Not only is your home no longer an option, but your very country is now a hostile place to you and it is with great urgency that you get off of it's ground. It's so far from reality for us that it seems more fitting in a movie. Yet this is life for millions. (Hey, on the movie note... watch Rambo (the one made in 2008). Strong language, but a very real picture of the true story happening TODAY in Burma).
Tonight at midnight we will be receiving a family that fled Burma and has been living in a refugee camp on the Burma/Thailand border. After they land, Ledi, a Congolese case worker will greet them and bring them to their new home at Serrano Village. She will show them how the showers work, how to use the dish soap, how to use the toilet... that they each have a bed to sleep in. Then, around 2 or 3 a.m., she will leave and they will be left alone in this strange place to begin picking up the pieces of their shattered lives.
If you have ever been overseas and plopped right in the middle of a foreign land, you know the unnerving feeling of having all of your comforts and abilities to navigate stripped away. In many cases, English is spoken in most airports and large cities in the world. Sadly for our new neighbors, they have no English skills. Imagine the shock -- liken it to being dropped into Beijing. You cannot read the signs, ask anyone for help... you don't even know how to buy groceries!! The result is a group of people that are accustomed to community and using their hands to make a living now trapped by fear inside of an apartment week in and week out. The mental and emotional impact in the days, weeks and months ahead in the lives of each new arrival will bring them just short of insane. I'm not exaggerating... many refugees struggle with alcoholism and suicide as a numbing alternative to their new reality.
So what does all of this mean for us? I suppose one thing we can all do is search our hearts regarding our feelings toward "immigrants" or people who now call America home for whatever reason. It is true that many come in search for a better life... but some come in search of keeping life. "This land is your land, this land is my land... this land was made for you and me" -- can you say in your heart that you would have a smile on your face that stretched down to your heart if you sang this to an Asian person who didn't speak a word of English? And as far as you could tell didn't have any drive to learn it?
The truth is that at some point all of our families came here to improve the future for the generations to come. Yet because many of us feel so American, we can quickly look at people from other nations and feel a sense of selfishness and dominion that clouds our ability to feel compassion and simple kindness. Have you ever pondered that you could have been born into a war-torn village in the middle of Iraq? Or even more controversial... in the middle of a crime-ridden, disease-infested, gang-dominated colonia in Mexico? As a mother, I would be lying if I said I wouldn't do anything in my power, including breaking the law, to move my family to a place with safe neighborhoods where my kids could walk to school without fear of being killed. We can forget that in the middle of these political arguments lie people. People. People with hopes and dreams. Not of a nice retirement or good colleges for their kids, but survival. Just survival. Let us search our hearts when we see these "intruders" in our country... and remember it isn't our country, it's God's, and He gives and takes away. Let us be thankful that He has chosen at this time to allow us to share this land with whomever He allows to enter in... and maybe, just maybe... He brought them here so they might know of the One who has preserved their lives and desires to give them life and give it more abundantly through faith in Him.
Tonight at midnight we will be receiving a family that fled Burma and has been living in a refugee camp on the Burma/Thailand border. After they land, Ledi, a Congolese case worker will greet them and bring them to their new home at Serrano Village. She will show them how the showers work, how to use the dish soap, how to use the toilet... that they each have a bed to sleep in. Then, around 2 or 3 a.m., she will leave and they will be left alone in this strange place to begin picking up the pieces of their shattered lives.
If you have ever been overseas and plopped right in the middle of a foreign land, you know the unnerving feeling of having all of your comforts and abilities to navigate stripped away. In many cases, English is spoken in most airports and large cities in the world. Sadly for our new neighbors, they have no English skills. Imagine the shock -- liken it to being dropped into Beijing. You cannot read the signs, ask anyone for help... you don't even know how to buy groceries!! The result is a group of people that are accustomed to community and using their hands to make a living now trapped by fear inside of an apartment week in and week out. The mental and emotional impact in the days, weeks and months ahead in the lives of each new arrival will bring them just short of insane. I'm not exaggerating... many refugees struggle with alcoholism and suicide as a numbing alternative to their new reality.
So what does all of this mean for us? I suppose one thing we can all do is search our hearts regarding our feelings toward "immigrants" or people who now call America home for whatever reason. It is true that many come in search for a better life... but some come in search of keeping life. "This land is your land, this land is my land... this land was made for you and me" -- can you say in your heart that you would have a smile on your face that stretched down to your heart if you sang this to an Asian person who didn't speak a word of English? And as far as you could tell didn't have any drive to learn it?
The truth is that at some point all of our families came here to improve the future for the generations to come. Yet because many of us feel so American, we can quickly look at people from other nations and feel a sense of selfishness and dominion that clouds our ability to feel compassion and simple kindness. Have you ever pondered that you could have been born into a war-torn village in the middle of Iraq? Or even more controversial... in the middle of a crime-ridden, disease-infested, gang-dominated colonia in Mexico? As a mother, I would be lying if I said I wouldn't do anything in my power, including breaking the law, to move my family to a place with safe neighborhoods where my kids could walk to school without fear of being killed. We can forget that in the middle of these political arguments lie people. People. People with hopes and dreams. Not of a nice retirement or good colleges for their kids, but survival. Just survival. Let us search our hearts when we see these "intruders" in our country... and remember it isn't our country, it's God's, and He gives and takes away. Let us be thankful that He has chosen at this time to allow us to share this land with whomever He allows to enter in... and maybe, just maybe... He brought them here so they might know of the One who has preserved their lives and desires to give them life and give it more abundantly through faith in Him.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
WE TAKE TEAMS!
Want to come experience third-world missions in the states?? Come stay at Serrano Village!!!
Visit the FAQ section of this website for more info... it is an AMAZING week-long trip and your life along with a refugee's life will forever be changed!
www.phx1040interface.org
Or email me and we can chat :-)
Visit the FAQ section of this website for more info... it is an AMAZING week-long trip and your life along with a refugee's life will forever be changed!
www.phx1040interface.org
Or email me and we can chat :-)
Come see the pandas!!
So this story is funny... and a good picture of just how much we feel like the "Where's Waldo" books.
A few days after moving in I put the kids out on the patio of our apartment to have some play time. I was out there with them for a few minutes, then went inside to put a few things away in the kitchen. I could see them from my view but not much else beyond the patio. About 5 minutes later I went back out there to sit with them and I was so amused at what I found. About 20 feet away from my patio sat about 8 adults and 4 or 5 children. Just sitting and watching the whities. They were squatting and staring directly at the kids. I called my mom and said, "It's like they are a zoo exhibit!!" And not only any exhibit... panda-type exhibits worthy of calling your family and friends to come look!
This true story is a great visual because it shows how bewildered these refugees are at our presence. I've had several conversations that go something like this:
"So where are you from?"
"The Congo. And what about you?"
"Oh I'm from here" (with a nice Jesus-y smile)
"No I mean before here"
"Yes I know.. I am American!"
"No no... (looking frustrated for not communicating well enough in English)... I mean where were you born?"
"Yes I understand. Here... I lived in California and then I came here to Arizona".
"But this is a place for refugees"
"Yes I know! We love refugees! We want to live here and share your food and your culture and teach you about America" (insert another Jesus-y smile)
At this point they stare for a few of the longest seconds I've ever sat through, and they smile and still feel misunderstood.
"Ok then you come to my house for some food!"
Our moving here has certainly been the talk of the village. A friend was lost in the complex as she came to visit and she just asked the first stranger and he knew exactly where to point her. The apartment of the Americans is not a mystery here.
We have a tremendous opportunity to use this bewilderment as a parallel for the gospel. Their heads spin as you see them try to really understand what we are doing here... and in every persons heart who knows the story of the gospel, our heads ought to spin at how bizarre and unthinkable it is that the creator of the universe, the knitter of our souls, perfect in every way and divinely complete would become a man and come dwell with lost and dying sinners. That should make our heads spin. Does it?
Imagine the bridge that this incarnational ministry has! "You think it's crazy that we moved in here... let me tell you what Jesus did!!". These people come from story-telling cultures... we are learning Jesus stories and look for opportunities to just talk about who He is and what He has done... surely there will be more to follow on this topic!
A few days after moving in I put the kids out on the patio of our apartment to have some play time. I was out there with them for a few minutes, then went inside to put a few things away in the kitchen. I could see them from my view but not much else beyond the patio. About 5 minutes later I went back out there to sit with them and I was so amused at what I found. About 20 feet away from my patio sat about 8 adults and 4 or 5 children. Just sitting and watching the whities. They were squatting and staring directly at the kids. I called my mom and said, "It's like they are a zoo exhibit!!" And not only any exhibit... panda-type exhibits worthy of calling your family and friends to come look!
This true story is a great visual because it shows how bewildered these refugees are at our presence. I've had several conversations that go something like this:
"So where are you from?"
"The Congo. And what about you?"
"Oh I'm from here" (with a nice Jesus-y smile)
"No I mean before here"
"Yes I know.. I am American!"
"No no... (looking frustrated for not communicating well enough in English)... I mean where were you born?"
"Yes I understand. Here... I lived in California and then I came here to Arizona".
"But this is a place for refugees"
"Yes I know! We love refugees! We want to live here and share your food and your culture and teach you about America" (insert another Jesus-y smile)
At this point they stare for a few of the longest seconds I've ever sat through, and they smile and still feel misunderstood.
"Ok then you come to my house for some food!"
Our moving here has certainly been the talk of the village. A friend was lost in the complex as she came to visit and she just asked the first stranger and he knew exactly where to point her. The apartment of the Americans is not a mystery here.
We have a tremendous opportunity to use this bewilderment as a parallel for the gospel. Their heads spin as you see them try to really understand what we are doing here... and in every persons heart who knows the story of the gospel, our heads ought to spin at how bizarre and unthinkable it is that the creator of the universe, the knitter of our souls, perfect in every way and divinely complete would become a man and come dwell with lost and dying sinners. That should make our heads spin. Does it?
Imagine the bridge that this incarnational ministry has! "You think it's crazy that we moved in here... let me tell you what Jesus did!!". These people come from story-telling cultures... we are learning Jesus stories and look for opportunities to just talk about who He is and what He has done... surely there will be more to follow on this topic!
I used to be a pigeon!!!
You know how the fall leaves get swooshed around by the fall winds and you get this beautiful circular movement of flowing leaves all around the streets and sidewalks? Doesn't it just make your insides warm and light? Well we have that same thing here... only the beautiful orange and red leaves are pigeon feathers.
There's a lot to get accustomed to here... from the A/C unit that sounds like a freight train (hey built in white noise for the babies!) to the freezing cold turned scalding hot showers (114 apartments operating off of 2 water heaters!!)... and most of it is funny if not mildly irritating. It's like real mission field living sometimes!!
However, there is one aspect of this mission field living that my flesh does not find funny... and that is the pigeons. I don't know why but they bring out the worst in me! When my baby is picking up pigeon feathers that blow in from outside or when they are stuck to her little hands from just being on the patio and she tries to eat them... that is just gross!!
I was sitting out on the patio the other morning before the kids got up and all the while these pigeons are flocking left and right... and walking joyfully all around me. OH! The sudden flesh that those pigeons bring to the surface!! I was reading Esther and marveling at someone so willing to risk her very life for the sake of her people, and in the same breath of "Lord may I have the heart of Esther! To count your people so dear that my own life would be laid down!!" came "Those cursed rats with wings!" Same sentence... true testimony! So I caught my bipolar ways and began praying, "Ok Lord, give me love for the pigeons!" And as I sat there staring at these pigeons, the sun began hitting the building next to me... little by little the warm rays began resting on more and more of the roof. Each pigeon began moving into the sunlight, but there wasn't room for all of them. Those stuck in the shade kept pushing and nudging to be in the warmth of the light.
It may seem silly, but I took that picture and praised God for redeeming my dirty and diseased soul. He has indeed rescued me from darkness and delivered me into His marvelous light. The feelings I now have toward the pigeons are praises to my God, that He would look on me... a sick and troubled spirit, unclean and used up, no real good to anybody in the state I was in... YET still he saw value. He set my feet upon a rock and gave me a new song. I got pieces of Psalm 40 tattooed on my back when He became my God... and declared never to turn on Him again. Oh the grace that has been shown to me... the goodness and forgiveness I could never earn. Lord may I NEVER forget that I was a pigeon.
There's a lot to get accustomed to here... from the A/C unit that sounds like a freight train (hey built in white noise for the babies!) to the freezing cold turned scalding hot showers (114 apartments operating off of 2 water heaters!!)... and most of it is funny if not mildly irritating. It's like real mission field living sometimes!!
However, there is one aspect of this mission field living that my flesh does not find funny... and that is the pigeons. I don't know why but they bring out the worst in me! When my baby is picking up pigeon feathers that blow in from outside or when they are stuck to her little hands from just being on the patio and she tries to eat them... that is just gross!!
I was sitting out on the patio the other morning before the kids got up and all the while these pigeons are flocking left and right... and walking joyfully all around me. OH! The sudden flesh that those pigeons bring to the surface!! I was reading Esther and marveling at someone so willing to risk her very life for the sake of her people, and in the same breath of "Lord may I have the heart of Esther! To count your people so dear that my own life would be laid down!!" came "Those cursed rats with wings!" Same sentence... true testimony! So I caught my bipolar ways and began praying, "Ok Lord, give me love for the pigeons!" And as I sat there staring at these pigeons, the sun began hitting the building next to me... little by little the warm rays began resting on more and more of the roof. Each pigeon began moving into the sunlight, but there wasn't room for all of them. Those stuck in the shade kept pushing and nudging to be in the warmth of the light.
It may seem silly, but I took that picture and praised God for redeeming my dirty and diseased soul. He has indeed rescued me from darkness and delivered me into His marvelous light. The feelings I now have toward the pigeons are praises to my God, that He would look on me... a sick and troubled spirit, unclean and used up, no real good to anybody in the state I was in... YET still he saw value. He set my feet upon a rock and gave me a new song. I got pieces of Psalm 40 tattooed on my back when He became my God... and declared never to turn on Him again. Oh the grace that has been shown to me... the goodness and forgiveness I could never earn. Lord may I NEVER forget that I was a pigeon.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Those who are well have no need of a physician...
Jesus said that those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. This is a sick, sick community.
I am working in the office a few hours each week and just a few days ago I got to hear the stories of different families as we separated leases that needed to be flagged for renewal.
This Cuban woman hears voices and is deeply troubled, this Iraqi man suffers greatly from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after being in combat in Iraq, this Karen woman is beginning the divorce proceedings and her alcoholic husband may turn violent, this Kareni family is entirely illiterate and the father died 2 months ago and the husband died last month. They can't pay their rent and have no idea how to get out of this hole. This family .... the stories continued.... I got numb and stopped taking notes. The need is overwhelming. The need is pressing. The need can only be met by my God.
I have a greater love for the Jesus of the Gospels now than ever before. I have greater confidence in His presence than ever before. I always heard people say "God is with you, He will never leave you nor forsake you" as a comforting word in times of need. But more and more I am seeing that verse not as how it can benefit me... but as the power and divinity that is crucial to tackling this monstrous task ahead. It is a simple realization, but astounding in this season.
Desperate and passionate prayers are needed for the people here. There are over 100 families living in this complex, all from war-torn countries, and all with pasts that few of us can fathom. God knows, He has been there with them, and He is waiting on the other side to be their Physician. Oh Lord let it be.
I am working in the office a few hours each week and just a few days ago I got to hear the stories of different families as we separated leases that needed to be flagged for renewal.
This Cuban woman hears voices and is deeply troubled, this Iraqi man suffers greatly from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after being in combat in Iraq, this Karen woman is beginning the divorce proceedings and her alcoholic husband may turn violent, this Kareni family is entirely illiterate and the father died 2 months ago and the husband died last month. They can't pay their rent and have no idea how to get out of this hole. This family .... the stories continued.... I got numb and stopped taking notes. The need is overwhelming. The need is pressing. The need can only be met by my God.
I have a greater love for the Jesus of the Gospels now than ever before. I have greater confidence in His presence than ever before. I always heard people say "God is with you, He will never leave you nor forsake you" as a comforting word in times of need. But more and more I am seeing that verse not as how it can benefit me... but as the power and divinity that is crucial to tackling this monstrous task ahead. It is a simple realization, but astounding in this season.
Desperate and passionate prayers are needed for the people here. There are over 100 families living in this complex, all from war-torn countries, and all with pasts that few of us can fathom. God knows, He has been there with them, and He is waiting on the other side to be their Physician. Oh Lord let it be.
TRL
TRL - That's Refugee Life!
After moving into Serrano Village to live among the refugees we discovered a need very early on... say, around day 2... for a saying that would express our sentiments when no amount of words really could. We spun the classic TIA (This is Africa) into our own little world and came up with TRL.
When we join together at the end of the day, we share our classic TRL moments. "Babe... I had such an awesome TRL moment today!! I saw a goat being slaughtered on the patio of an apartment!!". Yes... this is a true story... it happened just yesterday.
Life's highlights will be much more colorful from now on... and I do hope you'll continue following!
After moving into Serrano Village to live among the refugees we discovered a need very early on... say, around day 2... for a saying that would express our sentiments when no amount of words really could. We spun the classic TIA (This is Africa) into our own little world and came up with TRL.
When we join together at the end of the day, we share our classic TRL moments. "Babe... I had such an awesome TRL moment today!! I saw a goat being slaughtered on the patio of an apartment!!". Yes... this is a true story... it happened just yesterday.
Life's highlights will be much more colorful from now on... and I do hope you'll continue following!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)