reconcilingtheblog

9 years Later- A Look at Ground Zero

2010-09-12T19:22:00.001-07:00

Every year for the past 7 years I have gone to Ground Zero on September 11th. This place has changed so much over the past 7 years. For a long time, it was a 16 acre hole in the ground blocked by chain-link fences and large walls.

6 months after September 11th, 2001, I had the privilege of traveling to a few firehouses in the area to bring some supplies and thank you notes we had gathered from our church. It was only February of 2002 and the site was still covered in rubble. Because of our NYPD escort we were allowed onto ground zero, our shoes covered in the dirt of the site as rescue workers worked tirelessly to sort through the rubble. You could see the exhaustion and pain in their faces as they tried to make sense of what was left.

For a few years there was a small memorial site along the eastern edge of the site that surrounded the temporary access point to the PATH trains that take commuters to NJ. There were pictures up, names printed and flowers and mementos left behind. Every year on September 11th it became a gathering point for people to come downtown after work and reflect. Strangers would talk to each other about where they had been when it happened, conspiracy theorists would try to convince you of the mysteries of that day and quiet mourners would spend time remembering a day that changed everything. One year Reverend Billy and his gang of protesters decked out in gospel choir outfits joined us to speak their minds. I am still not really sure what their point actually was, but it was interesting.

Two years ago when I went to ground zero on 9/11 I was shocked to find that this small memorial site was no longer there. The public square I had grown to appreciate over time was now blocked off as progress began on that side of the site. The PATH station had opened on the north side of the site and the tower adjacent to it that fell after the impact of the Twin Towers had been completely rebuilt. This building is outside of the official ground zero site and did not experience the same political delays in rebuilding as its neighbors did.

Now when you visit Ground Zero most people congregate to the south of the site, where a small Fire Department station has constructed a large memorial listing the names of the fire fighters who lost their lives. The adjacent street has very little traffic so visitors typically congregate there to peak through the fences and see what's going on.

I visited Ground Zero a few weeks ago when a friend was in town visiting and I have to say I was really surprised by how much progress had been made. The new tower is at least thirty stories high and growing everyday. For some reason this made me incredibly sad. I had been there at least 10 months prior and there was no where near that kind of progress. I know I should feel excited that the area will soon be restored and that those that lost their lives will have a permanent and real memorial site. But for some reason I just couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling that sometimes in life we need these physical sites to stay broken because when they get fixed it makes our broken hearts look out of place.

I stood there looking up at this massive structure that is only a fraction of what it will be one day and thought about healing. What did this say about my own faith in God, my own hope for healing- when I wanted the world around me to stay broken. For some reason I still really needed the brokenness of my own life to remain, to say that I wasn't crazy, to show that the scars I have received and learned to live with had really come from somewhere. In some ways our wounds define us, they grow and challenge us and they mature us. But when do we let God heal us?

I returned to Ground Zero on 9/11 and choked back tears for the 7th year in a row. We started on the south side where the firehouse memorial is and walked around the eastern perimeter ending at the northern edge where the new building is going up. I took a picture of this odd looking-half built structure excited that one day I would show my kids and grandkids what it looked like as it was being built. And that was the moment I realized what healing meant in the most practical of ways. It means being able to see yourself in the future, excited to show off the glory of what God has built in the midst of the rubble that once was.

Maybe healing isn't defined by the moments when the buildings are completed but by the moments when we can imagine the glory the Lord will bring when they are completed and the joy we will share with our loved ones in telling these stories of redemption.

Love in the Church

2010-08-20T11:21:00.000-07:00

For awhile I have been thinking about how we in the church fail to love each other well and how painful it can be to watch a spiritually exhausted body fall prey to defensive lists of how much they are doing. If only we could all realize that to love is not to fill our lives with lots of service responsibilities and be super active. The problem will not be solved by pledging to do better next time, but will only truly be solved when we express our utter humility and lean on the forgiveness and power of Christ.

Below is a link to a blog post in response to Anne Rice's commentary on the lack of love in the church and her ultimate decision to leave that reminds us that our response should come from the tears and pain of the cross in connection with others and not in the isolation or stoicism of the islands and rocks of Simon and Garfunkel.

http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/rayortlund/2010/08/20/a-rock-feels-no-pain-an-island-never-cries/

Track Changes

2010-04-29T09:56:00.000-07:00

The advent of the track changes feature in Microsoft Word has launched a new level of productivity in collaborative work processes that is really quite cool. My problem has always been that I am awful at seeing what the document would actual look, feel and sound like if with all of those red lines and crossed out sections. Typically, I have to accept all the changes in the document and then read it and see what I think. But given our company's propensity towards the track changes feature and collaborative proposal writing, I am forced to try to change. I faced with the challenge to work collaboratively without being able to fully see or predict what the final product will be. An element of trust is clearly in order as I expect my colleagues to navigate the red lines with an eye for proper formatting. Yet there remains another unique element of the problem. I need to start to adjust my view. I need to see that while red lines may prevail for the moment, they will lead to a beautiful final document that is edited and ready to print. I need to learn the nuances of the program and value the utility of each function. I need to weigh carefully which type of edits, comments and suggestions I make. I need to keep in mind who is ultimately compiling all of these collaborative changes and what would be most helpful to them in terms of how I structure my changes.

Ultimately, I need to loose my grip on the final product and start to have a mind for the present.

Oh how deep those words ring in a heart that longs for the final product to be realized in God's kingdom, in the Church and in my own life. While I may labor incessantly to edit, revise and improve my walk with God and the community around me, I must always keep in view that Christ is the only one with the power to "Accept all Changes". He knits together all of our work, all or our edits and we will surely stand in amazement of the final product- whenever it may come.

Sunsets

2010-03-19T07:33:00.000-07:00

I have a strangely fatalistic approach towards the events of my everyday life. This puts a strange pressure on the hours of my prayer life that pass on subway platforms and city streets. Often times I don't leave enough time to travel somewhere by subway on a Sunday evening, a detrimental mistake at a time when a fairly predictable transportation system goes haywire. I pray that God with his sovereign hand will assure me of his love with a promptly arriving train. Yes, I do pray for trains to come quickly and become frustrated when they are delayed. No, I don't actively test God by telling him I won't believe he loves me if the train doesn't come. But in some ways, I inactively associate the daily weight of my situations with the love of God as I wait for the the arrival of a train or the arrival of a solution to the situations that cause me great pain, loss and fear.

I think it is important to think about how we see God, to recognize that deep down we sometimes doubt that God loves us. It is important to come to the Lord in honesty, and recognize that sometimes its hard to believe God loves us when a nagging voice inside us questions why a loving God hasn't changed our painful circumstances.

The other day my plans fell through and I found myself with an over-fatalistic attitude to contend with. I wondered who I would run into on the street and what life-changing moments would occur. I walked through these New York streets doing my best not to look over my shoulder too much and finally made it to the Highline where I dug into Beth Moore's new book and watched the sunset over the Hudson. There is nothing better in the world to remind you to stop over-thinking and to start watching what the Lord is doing than a sunset. Turns out the Lord did have a very profound meeting planned for me that evening, one where I saw a savior lead me out of my plans merely to spend time with me.

I never cease to be amazed that the Lord can break through our overly analytical thought lives and find ways to show us how fully loved we are. As it turns out my fatalistic approach to the evening taught me an extremely important lesson- that while I crave the moments that will change my circumstances, the Lord knows better and pursues the moments that will change my heart.

Worth the fight

2010-02-11T12:23:00.000-08:00

Last night my roommates and I were discussing the new facebook phenomenon "Can this pickle get more fans than Nickleback?", which launched a rousing conversation on the random cheesy music preferences of our friends. At one point my roomies may have broken out in song, belting "what's worth the price is always worth the fight". For whatever reason this lead us to Miley Cyrus and my rendition of "It's the Climb", a clear crowd-pleaser for sure.

In the morning I tend to wake up with a song lyric in my head that doesn't leave for most of the day. Much to my chagrin, I woke up singing "what's worth the price is always worth the fight". To give you a hint of my awareness of pop culture I was convinced this was an Adam Lampert song until I started to write this blog and made the connection from last night's discussion to my morning melodies. But regardless of how it got there, I spent most of the morning tacitly exploring those words. What is worth the fight?

Lately, I have been thinking a lot about the fight we fight as Christians in our daily lives. As the hands and feet of Christ we are bringing in the Love and Reign of God's kingdom as we pray and love those around us. We fight a battle that Christ has already one, and yet we often times fall prey to some sophisticated battle tactics in Spiritual Warfare. One way we often experience Spiritual Warfare is the societal pressures that cause us to doubt the truth of what God says about us and to live in the knowledge that we are fully loved and fully secure in God's love. This is exceptionally difficult for me because of the nagging voice inside that demands a defense of God's love in my everyday life. If God loves me, than why am I in so much pain? Why are things so messed up? As a result, I am prone to jealousy, anger and despair as I struggle to understand why I am not loved and accepted by those around me.

I understand that my image of myself is lower and more troubled than what those around me are likely to think. The fact remains that I struggle, as I am sure many of you do. Coincidentally, I am not the only one thinking about these things and will join some friends and family in reading Beth Moore's new book along with over 6,000 women across the country who will participate in the study and discussion group attached to her blog. Together we will fight to claim the victory and love of Christ in our everyday lives as we learn the ways in which our insecurities have eroded our belief in God's all-consuming and justifying love.

This bible study will be a fight, a fight to sort through the lies I tell myself and to surround myself with the truth of God's word. But I am sure that "what's worth the price is always worth the fight". Christ has paid the price for me. For my life. For His love. It is worth the fight, because it took the ultimate price.

True Life: I'm a single Christian Female (Part III)

2009-09-26T12:05:00.000-07:00

Awhile back I wrote a blog about the movie Jerry Macguire. In it I criticized Renee Zellwegger's character for her line, "You had me at hello". She seemed to be settling for Jerry's return without seeing what he had to say first. I still think that post was an important look into gender dynamics in the church. Yet, as I watched Jerry Macguire on TV again this afternoon I think we need to take a look at that particular scene again.

First of all, the thing I didn't remember on my last exposition is that Jerry actually has a whole heart-touching monologue before she responds with, "You had me at hello". He walks in to the room, looks around and can't find her. To the aghast gaggle of women he says, "I am looking for my wife" and when he finally sees her he explains how the most exciting day of his career wasn't complete without she who completes him. Thus she knew what he was there for before she said her famous line. The more I think about it the more it seems that this scene fits better into an exposition on the biblical relationship between man and woman in marriage than it does in terms of gender in the church.

Lately, I have been listening to John Piper sermons online. Surprising statement coming from me, I know. But it has been helpful for me to investigate complementarian gender roles from the heart of a pastor and not the thesis of a book. It has been provoking for me to think about the importance of living out a marriage that is based in submission and headship for the simple reason that it demonstrates the profundity of Christ's relational love for the church. I am struck by the notion that there really is something at stake if we don’t commit to this model. One of the interesting applications that John Piper gives for male headship in marriage is the need to keep relationships with wife and children from allowing sin and brokenness to pervade the walls as the sun sets on their anger (Ephesians 4:26). Piper urges men to take Christ-like initiative in seeking reconciliation in the family, being the first to apologize even if the majority of wrong was committed by the other person.

I find myself standing in wonder at the type of love that would fuel this type of Christ honoring relationship. It’s the kind of love that requires such an intimacy of mind, body and spirit that two really do become one flesh. “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and they will become one flesh” (Genesis 2:24). It’s the type of love that binds two hearts together, the kind of love that can only exist if it starts with a gospel based knowledge that “we love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19).

If we can go back to Jerry Macguire for a second we will see the separation that had prompted Jerry’s return in the first place. In the scene where they decide to take a break Dorothy finds the strength to confront the growing distance in their relationship and says that she had previously “was on some wild ride” where she thought that she had “enough love for the both of [them]”. But she didn’t want to “go the next 10 years just being polite” because she couldn’t live without truly being loved. Jerry sarcastically asks what else she could possibly want from him, his soul perhaps. Dorothy gives the profound response of saying yes that she does want his soul because she deserves to be loved like that. She deserves to be loved with the kind of life-changing love that makes two people become one. It's obvious in the film that Jerry's character can't handle this type of love as they both reflect on Jerry’s problems with intimacy. In an earlier video clip made for Jerry’s bachelor party, friends and ex-lovers reflect the curse that plagues Jerry’s character, that he is “great at relationships and bad at intimacy”.

The reason that Jerry’s return is so touching is that he comes from a place of fearing intimacy to tell his wife that she “completes him” as a person. And while we may want chuckle at the women whose hearts flutter with this Chick Flick line, I think we should avoid that temptation and hold onto this one. Mostly because its biblical. Two people coming together complete each other in marriage in a way that brings glory to Christ and reflects his love for the church. This is also reflected theologically in creation where Adam is not complete without the Woman as a companion who completes him (and humanity). This is of course not to say that single people are incomplete, which we need to fight against as a common and unbiblical undercurrent of Christian culture because we are fully complete in the love of Christ.

I don’t know if John Piper has seen this movie, Jerry Macguire. Lately I have been thinking about calling and telling him about it, but that might be weird. Marriage is not for the faint of heart nor for the timid of intimacy. We need to take this whole “one flesh” thing seriously enough to know that it’s a big deal. A friend and mentor once commented to me that the first year of marriage is like a "sin-mirror" where you see all the ways that you are prideful, angry and hurtful from the proximity of life together. I am growing more and more convinced that the messiness of relationships actually does call for some kind of guidelines to manage the process of such a profound union. We have been given these guidelines in the Bible and as much as I have been averse to their literal application before, I think that now more than ever we need the protection and wisdom found in scripture. In my opinion our only hope is to cling to God’s word and do our best not to distance ourselves from its messages.

10 points of discernment

2009-08-23T19:30:00.000-07:00

I've spent a lot of time baffled by how I'm supposed to weigh the fullness and theological depth of scripture when making a decision and seeking Godly discernment. It helps me to think through a process that will help me to weed out my prideful and overly-analytical mind. I started listing out some questions to ask myself in order to discern if a decision or thought process is of God. It's really just a compilation of things, I'm sure it's not that original. But let me know what you think and what processes you go through when seeking wisdom, guidance and discernment.

10 points of Discernment

Does this decision or though process reflect the fullness of the gospel?
Does it glorify God and the principles God has given us for life in His Word?
Does it allow me to live a healthy, fruitful life in God's provision (is God providing for this)?
Will this produce fruit?
Does this allow me to express the fullness of how God created me?
What are my motivations for this decision?
What do voices of mentorship & accountability say about this?
Does this keep me in the freedom of Christ OR chain me to something that is not of God?
Am I expressing submission to Christ and the authorities God has laid in front of me?
Am I pursuing this out of love or fear?

Searching for Guidance

2009-08-23T13:29:00.000-07:00

I'm going to take a break from gender to try and think about how we as Christian seek God's guidance. I'm going to try and avoid sounding bitter but you should know I am in a self-proclaimed "Guidance Vacuum" right now and I'm being sucked dry. Hopefully some of you can relate. I know that God has brought many of us to a place to challenge the ways that we seek him and prevent me from equating God with a specific spiritual experience. I am convicted that we cannot fully be willing to seek God if we always approach God expecting a specific response or answer. God is not a vending machine. Seeking God means pursuing God's word to see who he tells us he is.

I'm not always the best at seeking God's character in scripture and wind up only looking for an immediate spiritual answer to my question of the moment. I need to work on this, especially as I didn't grow up in a Christian home and didn't get all my Sunday School bible stories. There is much of the old testament that I don't really understand. Despite what I missed, I am thankful for the way that God pursued me as an individual- which often times included Christian music. I really felt the spirit of God and felt connected to Christ through these songs and would hear lyrics roll through my head at the exact moment I needed those messages of strength.

One of my favorite cheesy christian music artists is of course, the classic Third Day. There's so much truth in their lyrics and I have always been encouraged by their music. I'm awful at scripture memorization and need to be more intentional to have the word of God fill my mind when I'm in trouble. Nevertheless, I think Third Day will work for now. In the song "Blind", Third Day talks about how we are often "blind" to what God is doing because we are looking in the wrong place. The chorus lyrics are:

My heart I could not trust

'Cause it lies to me too much

And my mind just couldn't

Understand it all

These words very accurately describe my situation right now. I feel like I've spent a lot of time tring to understand God's direction through the way that I "felt" the spirit leading me. But at this point I've come to think that I have to be incredibly careful not to confuse my emotions with the Holy Spirit. My heart and my emotions equally lead me in opposing directions sometimes and I know they can't be God's direction. God is not a God of confusion, but man, my heart is definitely is. I also spend a lot of time trying to analyze situations from every possible angle to understand where God is leading, but its clear that my mind cannot fully understand the mind of God and I am just as baffled as I was when I started my over-analytical processes.

I constantly want answers to things, and I want to "do" something about my problems. But right now I am convinced that all I can do is wait on the Lord. I am in a place of incredible humility and brokenness. After over a year of feeling like I was following God in certain ministry initiatives I am angry and confused about why nothing has worked out and feel like I have failed to listen from the beginning. It's a really humble place to be because I know that right now my broken-heart would lead me out of the Chuch and away from God. But that's not physically possible right now because I can't take care of myself and need God so badly. These are the moments when I am utterly convinced that the Gospel is true and that I need Christ's mercy to save me. Because, at the end of the day I am the prodigal daughter who would have run away long ago if Christ weren't holding my coat-tails pulling me back.

Women in New York

2009-08-14T21:05:00.000-07:00

Last night I walked the 2.5 miles home down the sundry trail of 8^th ave. I thought a lot about womanhood and its many representations in this city. I walked past the charming families of the upper west side, through the power-suited women of midtown and past the “live fantasy girls” of adult novelty stores that surround Port Authority. This last category seemed oxymoronic to me. If girls, women, are real live people than they cannot by nature be a fantasy. Real live women have emotions, problems, mouths to feed and wounds to tend to. Those stores make me exceptionally angry, on so many levels.

I just kept thinking that our city has a very interesting perspective on womanhood and by extension, a very interesting perspective on community. We have a transient community and a lifestyle, which poses significant logistical challenges to raising small children. These questions of life and lifestyle have an interesting influence on New York women as we seek to understand our balance between work and family, staying in the city and moving away. Single Christian women face overwhelmingly female church communities and an overwhelmingly sexualized secular community. It's a unique context and I think it’s also important to think through the ways in which our context has affected us as women as we explore how our experiences and dreams fit in with different ideas of womanhood.

On that walk I sat for awhile on the steps of the post office across from Penn Station. I had the New York experience of an “overheard” conversation whose context seemed to stand out but whose content was all too familiar. A happy couple took a lovely bike ride to the post office on a warm summer evening, a strange concept considering the grueling image of biking in New York. The wife ran up to the post office at 10:05 pm only to find that the windows had closed and she had to either put her envelope in the slot or wait until tomorrow. She returned to her husband frustrated and dejected pleading with him to go back in there and yell about it and get them to take the letter ny hand. Her request may not have made any sense but her motives clearly did. No matter how hard we as women try to cling our own self-sufficiencies we still want someone to take care of us. We still long for men to “step up” and take more leadership. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard you all say that, yes my small group of blog readers, I’ve heard you use that phrase so don’t deny it.

I am here to say that I have no idea where my future will take me and am quite confused about what womanhood really means. But I’m going to try and work through it in freedom and intentionality. I’m going to post my thoughts as I go. Comment as you see fit and we’ll see how it goes in the world of womanhood. But seriously, comment, please. It’s the only way my technologically challenged self knows that people are reading. Men too, post your thoughts.

I'm going to be listening to the podcast series below to explore ideas of biblical womanhood. Join me-http://www.truewoman.com/?id=317

Committment

2009-08-07T21:13:00.000-07:00

It occurs to me that in the past five months not only have I failed to post anything at all, I've failed to continue a blog series on the book of Daniel and failed to complete another series on gender roles. In an odd, melodramatic kind of a way I feel as though I've lost out on on something. There's so much these days that I feel I've lost. But this time I know that I'm the one who has walked away. I think what's more accurate is that it's me over-committing to something I cannot provide. I committ to something like a blog series or an over-zealous project and then feel lost when I cannot complete it. I often complain that I lack guidance and a clear sense of calling. But maybe I self-indulgently through myself into an ocean with the lofty dream to calm it, only to climb out of a kiddie pool ladder and realize its wasn't my pool.

This morning I read a few chapters in 2 Peter and was crestfallenly convicted that I'm missing the boat. "His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given is very great and precious promises, so that through them you may participate in the divine nature and escape the corruption in the world caused by evil desires". (2 Peter 1:3-4). There's a simple and albeit over-used story about a man who sits on the roof of his house during an awful flood, begging for God to resue him. When the rescue boats come, he refuses help saying that God will save him, the same with the helicopter and the other forms of rescue. Well, I am here to say that I think I am missing my boat.

I still think that it is incredibly important to fall at the feet of the Lord and beg for guidance for the troubles that bring us down. But in the moments when we can't hear him calling out an answer, I think we need to pursue the answers he has already given us through his word. Our response simply cannot be that we do not have the committment to get up a bit earlier in the morning and actually seek His guidance the old-fashioned way.

Daniel: God is my Judge, Part I

2009-02-26T07:52:00.000-08:00

When I was in high school we had an art project that involved looking up the meaning of our names and using those meanings to construct some kind of visual representation of ourselves. This was a fairly inconsequential event for me, mostly because I felt like the meaning of my name was inconsequential and had no bearing on who I really was. But I have recently been challenged to further explore the meaning of names and the way that God gives names in scripture.

If you look up the name Daniel you will find that it means, "God is my Judge", which seems to echo the faithful life of Daniel in serving God as a Jew in a Babylonian kingdom. Daniel seems to intuitively understand that even though his citizenship may have shifted to Babylonian rule, his heart remains fixed to the rule of God. Daniel pleads with his Babylonian masters to permit him and his Hebrew brothers to not defile themselves by eating the king's food, but to keep the Lord's standard for their bodies. Later, the Hebrew men refuse to bow before the king's gold image, risking their lives to only bow in worship to the one true God.

This is a powerful testimony of what it means to be faithful to God as the one true judge of our actions, even if its easier or safer to bow down to the standards of our earthly citizenship. Its easy for us to praise this kind of faith. Everyone loves a rebel. Everyone loves a rebel for God's cause. But our tendency to read into these acts of civil disobedience with any kind of flippant tone is sorely misplaced. It's easy to read the name of Daniel, "God is my judge" with a flippant air of disregard to authority. "God is my judge, not you, not your authority, not your administration". But if we cop an attitude and claim "he's not my president", I think we are missing the beauty of the story of Daniel and we are missing the point of the long tradition of Civil Disobedience.

Daniel pleads with his masters to allow him to eat to a different standard of food, fully recognizing that it is their choice to allow him this change in diet. He does not stage a hunger strike to achieve his demands, he pleads his case and respects the authority of those placed over him. When the Hebrews refuse to bow before the king's golden image, they do so fully accepting their punishment and being thrown into a pit of flames. They do not angrily cry "you're not my judge" and demand a jury of their Hebrew peers be brought in on a provisional basis. They accept the authority of their rulers and know that they have remained faithful to their true Judge. [It should be noted that a similar interpretation can be made of the Classic story of Antigone who is willing to accept her punishment for securing a proper burial for her brother, considered a traitor to the kingdom.]

I guess it just strikes me that Daniel can perfectly hold in tension the concept of his dual citizenship. He completely understands that "God is [his] judge" and lives his life in utter submission to God's standard. But he and the other Hebrew men do so in compete respect for the authorities that God has placed over them. So it seems as though he have much to learn from the faith and name of Daniel. I'm sure there is still much more for us to learn from this ole Danny, but I will save those thoughts for another post...

Walking in the Gospel: Part II

2009-01-25T21:04:00.000-08:00

We spend a lot of time in our lives wondering if God is listening and trying to interpret what He may be saying to us. Especially college seniors and recent grads, who spend a lot of time thinking about what God is “calling” them to do, fervently praying and seeking God’s will for their lives. This is great. We should always seek the face of God and pursue His will. But all too often I am blindingly disappointed by the lack of a clear call in my life to pursue a specific course of action. I fall on my knees and ask God what I should “do”. And what do I hear? That I should “act justly, love mercy and walk humbly with my God” (Micah 6:8). The last time I checked this did not answer my question about whether I should move to Africa and serve in Global missions or pursue a job in the US.

I have sat down to right this sequel to “Walking in the Gospel” too many times, with little result. These failed attempts, and the events of recent times, have shown me that I actually know very little about what it means to “Walk in the Gospel”. We experience the conversions of our lives to the ways of Christ without ever really realizing it. We wake up one day to find ourselves overcome with prayers for those who have hurt us and completely content with our seeming lack of stability.

Walking in the gospel, walking with Christ, is ultimately a series of decisions to be made. Often times God asks us to make the big, risky decision to sell everything and move to a distant country to use our skills to build His kingdom; or to evade our parent’s desires to seek a high-paying job to become a campus minister. Over the years we as Christians have followed “God’s Call” to the ends of the earth and back.

For many of us we await our “calling” and humbly plead with God to show us a little bit more of His plan for us. But I think we may overuse this word, “calling” in a way that over-spiritualizes our decision making processes and denies the work of gospel conversion in our lives. Because as we are stressing about which path to choose, we forget that the Gospel decisions have already been made. We have already chosen how we will treat the people that cross our paths while fitfully debate the complexities of where that path will go.

The Gospel in our lives changes our perspective on the world, the way we interact with others and the decisions we make on a daily basis. It enables us to make those risky decisions with faith and to have faith that even our smallest decisions are the bricks which build His kingdom.

Walking in the Gospel: Part I

2008-11-21T17:22:00.000-08:00

We often talk about conversion to Christ as a moment. The exact moment when we turn from our sins and recognize the forgiveness and love of Christ. I was on a mission trip at the tender age of 16 in Mexico City when one of the youth participants asked me when I became a Christian. I told him of my experiences in youth group, but he kept pressing, trying to find the exact moment. He strongly implied that if I couldn’t point to a dramatic life changing moment, then I wasn’t really a Christian. Looking back on my conversion story I can identify the moment when I said the prayer inviting Jesus into my heart (I think I was 14) but it wasn't until years later that I really understood the gospel of grace and salvation.

The past few days I have felt burdened with the gospel and a desire to fight through its different presentations. The centrality of the gospel in our lives and communities is of the utmost importance. But what gospel? Whose Gospel? There's Paul's gospel of individual repentance and redemption. The Gospel of John focuses on individual and inward aspects of spirituality and eternal life. But the gospels of Matthew, Mark and Luke talk about the social and behavioral change that the gospel brings. And yet they are all the same gospel, each a different perspectives of the same story. But when we focus on one perspective of the gospel we loose the fullness of the story of Jesus.

Looking back at the story of my conversion I am now more convinced than ever before that it’s the story of a lifetime. That as I continually walk with Christ I turn more and more towards His love and desires for my life. I think this is also true in the stories of the disciples. In a moment’s decision they left what they were doing and became followers of Christ. But they spent years walking with him, daily learning from their Rabbi. Along the road they had various bouts with selfishness, pride and disbelief, abandoning Christ at the Cross. But through his grace and strength they went on to serve the name of Christ and become the builders of his Church and the bearers of the gospel.

When I read the gospels I see the story of Christ. I see a story of Christ walking with his disciples on the road to the cross. When I look at our lives today I see us walking with Christ and the people around us to serve Christ. But what are we walking towards? The disciples walked with Christ, unsure of where their road would lead them and unaware of how redemption would flow from the Cross. As we walk with Christ we walk towards the ultimate redemption and restoration of the World, completely unsure of how it will come. It is my guess that our wait for the ultimate redemption of the world isn't one of standing still. It is my guess that our wait is a wait of walking, that we have to walk toward the redemption of the world, unsure of how God will complete it. We walk toward redemption by living out a life committed to the gospel, letting the gospel radically change our perspective on the world, our relationships and the decisions we make. We walk toward redemption by following the commands that Jesus taught us about how to care for his sheep and build his kingdom.

true life: I'm a single christian female (Part II)

2008-08-29T14:42:00.000-07:00

One of my first encounters with the Christian community and the language of Christianese was at the tender age of 13. One of the funnier things that I remember from my christian camp experience were the formal and discrete forms of education we received on sex and dating. We participated in the familiar activity where an oreo (or some other item) is passed around and each girl takes a bite of it until what remains is so full of germs that no one really wants anymore of it. This was sex ed and apparently having sex makes you a germy oreo. I also remember having some really interesting conversations about some of the counselors. They had spent their adolescences praying for their ideal husband (appearance, personality, profession, etc). only to receive this ideal mate years later ushered in with the profound realization of God's faithfulness.

This happens. That's wonderful. God speaks in many ways to different people to communicate his faithfulness and we should stand in awe. But there are many things that erk me about this mindset. As a young teen I used to try and pray for my ideal mate, only to be met with much overly-analytical frustration. Eventually I gave up and realized I was too indecisive to pick these qualities and that God would ultimately be a better judge of what I needed. These dreadfully indecisive moments remain, but I think deeper conflictions within my all too analytical mind have arisen about what some may call the most plaguing prosperity gospel of the single christian female mind (probably male too, but I'm going to keep the generalizing to my own gender for now).

On my short visit to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, the country director asked me if I had a boyfriend. My quick reply was, "I'm sure when I'm ready for that, God will let me know". He promptly confronted me with one of the most complexingly convicting arguments that I've heard in awhile. That if we thought God gave us things when we were ready for them, or had achieved some kind of spiritual understanding than we believed in a propserity gospel. His words were extremely poignant in an area of intense suffering, where to believe that God gives in accordance with what we deserve means that the millions of people suffering in the Congo, just didn't understand all the spiritual things that we affluent Americans do.

Many months later a few friends and I were walking down the street, I can remember the exact corner we were approaching. We were discussing the impending marriage of some friends of ours. Someone (who will remain nameless) mentioned that despite some of the more humoristic downsides of the bride-to-be, that she had to be "worth something, because she was engaged". Meaning she was worth something because someone thought she was worth marrying. Because apparently God decided she was ready for the gift of marriage and the rest of us weren't, aren't.

I've been thinking a lot lately about how women are valued in our Christian communities. There are many ways that the beauty of a woman's heart is valued, across these communities. And I'm sure there are ways we as women receive value based on our identities in Christ. I haven't really worked out how to receive that positive value, but I'm sure that there are many negative ways we look for value and many negative messages we receive in our search. There are many troubling, discrete message we ingest and start to believe after awhile. That we aren't ready for marriage, that we're missing something and need to figure it out. That our strength and success is something that should make us just as uncomfortable as it makes the men around us. Because recently I've been told to my face that my strengh, leadership and success makes me undesirable. But now I don't have to wonder anymore I'm assured of my lack of value and marriageability. I'm just left to wonder what to do with the gifts God's given me if I'm not supposed to use them.

***please weigh in, share your thoughts and disagree***

true life: I'm a single christian female (Part I)

2008-08-03T15:01:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about the Movie Jerry McGuire, strange as I haven't seen it in a very long time. But I've been thinking a lot lately about the part in the movie where Jerry comes back and Renee Zellweger says, "You had me at hello". They had separated and Jerry's return to her was enough for her to be swept off her feet. It's strange cause I always wondered why hello was enough. For all she knew he might have just come back to ask for his stuff. I think I would have wanted to hear his intentions first.

It reminds me of a strange behavioral pattern which I would be remiss to over-apply to any broader categorization outside of my own experiences. As a single christian female living in NYC it seems like a daily fight to believe in your God-given value. There are so many more women than men in most of the christian circles I have been a part of. The attention and participation of the men seems to hold more value than just any another female. There were a few times I wanted to say, "I'm sorry I'm just another girl, but I can add something to this group too". Even as a leader of a christian group I discussed ways we could increase our male numbers and would get really excited if a new guy came. Later on I felt incredibly convicted, because I should be just as excited at the entrance of a woman.

It just makes me think that too often we side with Renee Zellweger on this one (sorry Renee, but I forget the name of your character in that movie). We get so excited that men just show up that we forget that maybe hello isn't enough, maybe just coming back isn't enough. And maybe we also forget that there were women around us all along that needed to know how much value they have. I just think we get so excited about men showing up that we don't realize what this communicates. Because it discreetly communicates that men have more value and that it takes a lot more for a women to be seen before anyone will make an effort to get to know the beautiful person God created her to be.

*Disclaimer: I'm not really sure what I'm applying these comments to. They're a bit harsh, and I apologize for that. Please know that there are so many groups I'm a part of that do an amazing job at balancing this. But I did want to shed light on a discreet problem that has some profound effects on the spiritual lives of women.

More to come on this topic in this series. Just wanted to break it up to avoid one large post.

the fall of hope

2008-07-22T10:24:00.000-07:00

This sunday Justin preached about hope and Romans 8. It really got me thinking about how we talk about hope and what that means for people who are suffering. Justin said that our hope is not in the power of positive thinking but is grounded in God and boldly faces the reality of our painful experiences. It is not the hope of optimistically knowing that "it could be worse" or assuring someone that it will "get better". Things may not actually get any better, and it certainly doesn't comfort me to know that theres still further to fall into the depths of possibilities of how it "could be worse". Because if it "could be worse", then it may just be headed that way.

Every time I turn around it seems as though God is asking me to give up something else, taking something else away from me and causing me to deal with the pain and anger lingering in the dark corners of my heart. I didn't think I had anything left in the attics my ole heart to hold onto. But again I am surprised and again I surrender with arms and legs kicking and screaming. One of the strange and menial examples which I recognize isn't a significantly meaningful source of pain or trauma- was realizing and letting go of my own vanity when the doctor told me that I need glasses after a lifetime of perfect vision and a wire-free face. The funny thing is its not my vision thats wrong by my lenses. My connective tissue disorder has left the lenses of my eyes slightly displaced and glasses will serve as a protective shield against blinding blows to my eye. I was strangely extremely mad about this and realized how much the physical representation of the images of ourselves affect our identity. And so, I let go- of that vanity and that image of myself.

The upside is that when you let go of things that hold you down, you are free. The down side is that it becomes all too easy to let go of the parts of you that cared in the first place. Not so much cared about not wearing glasses but cared about people and purposes. And what's left? Someone who has let go of the last branch holding her to the rockface of a cliff, free floating downward, hoping to find some solid ground and finally stand up. But in the meantime its too hard to care and too hard to grab hold of the roots and branches that I pass while falling and floating by. But maybe that's a good thing, maybe those roots and branches are the cliche answers to our suffering, the commonplace hope that in a few weeks, months or years it will get a little better and that I'll realize it wasn't so bad in the first place.

But what if there was a different kind of hope. One that didn't belittle my experiences, pain and apparent pessimism, but stood with me in saying that this really isn't ok. That I don't have to think that my perspective of the multifaceted levels of pain and brokenness of this world can change if I squint hard enough through a rose colored lens. Maybe this irresistible hope is the one that is formed from the compassion of a savior who doesn't sweep our pain under the swells of euphemisms but stands in our suffering and helps us fight our way out. Sacrificial death would seem strangely unnecessary if it wasn't all that bad down here. So maybe we should give up on telling people that its "all gonna be ok" and that it "could be so much worse" and just start acknowledging that some things in life really do suck. Maybe that's all we needed to hear in the first place, that its not the color of the lenses of our lives that need to change. Ultimately there is something wrong with my eyes' lenses, physically and spiritually. But its not the hue they cast on the world that needs to change but what they seem to see. Looking towards the commonplace hope has left us blind to the beauty of the full redemption of creation that Christ begins in our hearts today.

mountaintops and band-aids

2008-05-27T16:55:00.000-07:00

I recently returned from one of those spiritually intense Christian retreats where you marvel at the work of God and wonder how much spiritual atrophy will return once you descend the physical and spiritual mountaintop. But for some reason this retreat was different for me and the people around me. I think it can best be summed up by the look on our faces the last morning at breakfast. The devotion leader called us to not give up in the last few hours of our experience but to expect God to keep working. Our faces fell with looks of worry. The things God was showing all of us were full demonstrations of his love and his glory, but they were battles of the heart that are no fun at all. In a lot of ways God was breaking us down to show us the ways our hearts needed to be healed and taking us through the process of healing them.

For me God was cutting things out of my life in abundance. There were many strange prophetic visions of my hands being cut-off. And now I have no spiritual hands left. I have been left to worship God raising arms without hands, just two stubbed and meager limbs unable to truly glorify or serve. It's very unsettling because I know the work of God isn't done. I know that God will continue to bring me healing from past wounds in unprecedented ways- but who knows when or how. In the meantime I'm learning to trust God and have patience, two things I am terrible at. I know that the healing of Christ is true and real and on this retreat experienced healing of past spiritual wounds in profound ways. In God's strange sense of humor I had to learn this lesson fast enough to lead other people to the healing of Christ with only a 10 minute turn around time.

I thoroughly believe in the power of healing prayer but also know that the healing process takes time. Healing prayer may be the part where God re-opens our wounds and scrubs them clean, but we still need to watch faithfully as God forms new and healthy skin around us. This is what I'm doing now, impatiently pealing off the band-aid to get a look at that new skin- pink and tender.

a grief obstained

2008-04-27T17:13:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot lately about what it means to have grace with our communities. Some argue that we should just have "healthy expectations" about what our communities can provide for us, so that we don't get hurt by our own expectations. To me this sounds a lot more like detachment and a lot less like grace. Because when Christ shows us grace he never expects less of us, never detaches himself from us. I think its a lot easier to expect less of people, because then they can hurt us less. To love something is to open yourself to be fully known by that something and pour yourself out for that something so that whether that something chooses to accept your love, or utterly reject it you are rendered useless to defend yourself against the vulnerability of grace. God consistently loves us in a way that reveals himself to us and allows us the choice of what to do with the love that is offered. I can only imagine how many times I've chosen to walk away from that and the utter pain it causes God to watch me go. But the truth of God's love is that despite the utter pain of rejection he chooses to make room for us yet again. I look at how I've been hurt by people and see mere scrapes to his wounds and ask how I have any other choice but to love again, pour out again and leave myself open to be hurt again.

This is not to say that the anguish of our hearts goes unnoticed in the Kingdom of God. Instead all people are held accountable for the way we treat each other and simultaneously called to pour ourselves out again to the communities that disappoint us. There are many circumstances where we can and should love and give grace from a distance. I just think we over apply distance to our pain when what we really need is to understand the meaning of grace.

But the most interesting part of what I've learned lately is that the peace of Christ is not an absence of pain but an absence of fear. Amidst our awkward and disappointing interactions with the body of Christ, we have nothing to fear. Yet amidst these disappointments and pains we are fully expected to truly grieve our pains and losses but never to fear what might happen. So for now I wonder what it would be like for the body of Christ to walk away from a life of avoiding grief and grace and into a life that abandons fear and anger. To truly have grace and love in our communities we need to be willing to really feel the ache of extending grace.

Answers

2008-03-11T20:41:00.000-07:00

Every week I lead a discussion group called Jesus, Justice and Poverty. The title is totally stolen from Intervarsity's Bay Area conference, but I'm pretty sure they won't mind. The beauty of these informal conversations is the unabated honesty with which people approach these tender questions. Today we read through Matthew 25 and came to terms with our own cultural tendencies to create systemic answers to the problem of poverty only to notice that we have missed the relational point of the passage. There is always a turning point in these conversations where we have gotten past the formality of politeness and delve deeper into the echoes of our hearts. The places where that pestering voice inside of us won't let us give up on hope, the place that yearns to see the glory of God's love in this world and the place that is deathly afraid of how much our own hearts must be changed to be able to even see that glory. This is the place where God's word messes with our flesh and our hearts are must wrestle with the beauty of His holy spirit.

"The Matter is quite simple. The Bible is very easy to understand. But we Christians are a bunch of scheming swindlers. We pretend to be unable to understand it because we know the minute we understand we are obliged to act accordingly. Take any words in the New Testament and forget everything except pledging yourself to act accordingly. My God, you will say, if I do that my whole life will be ruined. How would I ever get on in the world? Herein lies the real place of Christian scholarship. Christian scholarship is the Church’s prodigious invention to defend itself against the Bible, to ensure that we can continue to be good Christians without the Bible coming too close. Oh, priceless scholarship, what would we do without you? Dreadful it is to fall into the hands of the living God. Yes, it is even dreadful to be alone with the New Testament". -Soren Kierkegaard.

Return to Sender

2008-03-06T14:52:00.001-08:00

My heart aches a little bit when I think about Rwanda, mostly because I feel like I have disappointed everyone there. Two children have died since I have been home. One in the fall and one last week. The children really aren't any better off now than they were before. They're probably worse off- because they were given so much hope that the Mzungu would help them and she failed. We've sent down money and "raised awareness". But people here don't change, awareness doesn't do all that much and the little amount we send isn't enough. I think the worst part of it all is that when I got the email that a little boy died last week, I was barely affected. I've just been so consumed with all the work that we're doing here that I don't have the capacity to handle anything else.

I just feel so useless when the work we do abroad and the work we do right here fails because of the failures of our own hearts. The work here has also failed and I assume its for the same reason. There's a five letter word that hardens our hearts, blinds us to the suffering of others and cuts off our ability to love. Nestled among those five letters is the darkness of our own hearts that decapitates our efforts to bring light to the Heart of Darkness (see Joseph Conrad). Who are we to seek light for those that are suffering when the pride of our own hearts blinds us to the one sitting right next to us.

To some extent I think I sit on both sides of the aisle on this issue. The failures of my own heart damage the people around me and the work that I do. At the same time I also feel so alone. In some ways I stick my neck out as a leader and fight for things, only to return back to my corner of the boxing ring without anyone standing there. I think deep in our hearts we are all longing to be loved and to be recognized. But what do we do with our striving when we have grace, or our pride when we recognize the magnitude of our own heart failures? What do we do when reconciling doesn't bring healing? And what to we do when there's just no more fight left in the dog?

the end of things

2007-08-07T00:53:00.000-07:00

So the end of things here in Rwanda has been pretty overwhelming, had I been I crier I think I would have balled at a few points. On Saturday the kids did a goodbye performance for me, complete with skits and songs. They even did a skit about a turkey because I have been trying to get them to think about raising turkeys so they think I like them quite a bit. In Africa a hug is more of an embrace of the arms. When I gave these kids all hugs before they each got their pictures taken, they were quite surprised when I pulled them into me for a real affectionate hug. After awhile they got the idea and started to melt into me. These kids are so awesome, and if for a brief moment they can feel loved and laugh a little, than I guess that's pretty good.

On Sunday we went to a Rwandan wedding, quite the production. It starts at 8:30 in the morning with a traditional ceremony and continues with the modern one at a church, which was supposed to start at 11 but actually began at 1:30. The ceremony was fairly standard except two couples were getting married at the same time, apparently however many people want to get married in one church on a particular day, all have their weddings together. Another reason these things last so long. Then we went to the reception, which looked a lot more like another ceremony with chairs facing the front and more performers singing and what not. After the wedding I went to meet Thierry and Jean Dieu for the Confirmation party of one of Jean Dieu's nephews. It was pretty much like any family party would look like, everyone hanging out in the living room, drinking fanta and eating a lot of food. There were a few solo pictures of me the mzungu, which was awkward but I did my best to pose for it. I learned a lot more about Jean Dieu and Thierry that night and the way they live. I honestly can't say as I understand how they have survived as long as they have and how they find the strength to keep going. But it gives me great joy knowing I have them as brothers in Christ.

Monday morning I went to work to say goodbye to the girls I teach English to, and the two people I work with, only to find that it was in fact an entire Rwandan style goodbye for Karen. It would have been pretty embarrassing having people talk and look at me so much, but since it was translated into English I decided to pretend the kinyarwanda part wasn't actually about me. A lot of the girls brought me gifts and a few made me African outfits, again more attention and pictures for the mzungu. It was really awesome to be able to take some time sharing scripture to carry with us as we went our separate ways. It's a lot harder to leave this place then I thought it was going to be. I don't know how to explain why, because normally I'm just like.. ok see ya. But I think I have a much better idea of what it means to love, to welcome a child on behalf of Christ, and to seek and build God's kingdom. And by that I mean I have seen some amazing examples of it and can only imagine if people like me could follow their examples.

to die of joy

2007-08-01T12:47:00.000-07:00

So, we bought a farm on Monday. Nestled deep in the hills of Rwanda lays a piece of land that now belongs to the Nsanganira AIDS Orphans association. With the help of many committed friends and family in America we raised about $1500 and were able to buy a 3 hectare plot of land and all the things necessary to make it operational and sustainable. After weeks of planning and detailing budgets we set out on our adventure early Monday morning with many surprises in store for us. It took three bank trips to find one to withdraw that much money from, one flat tire and me almost fainting of dehydration- but we made it. We hiked all the way around our very steep plot of land, measured it out with a tree one of the men had cut down and hand wrote a purchasing agreement for all parties and witnesses to sign. We needed a second copy of the agreement so he just wrote out another one. The woman we bought the land from is a widow with four children who couldn’t manage the land and desperately needed money. She asked us not to give her the money right away, but to drive her to the bank to deposit it. She was not familiar with the young men who helped us measure the land and was afraid they would try and take the money for her. It made for a bittersweet moment- knowing that the sale must have been so hard for her. But in the end she looked relieved and a bit happier, ready to take care of her kids and buy a more manageable plot of land for herself.

It was really hard for me to manage all the competing emotions- the widow’s sadness and the utter joy of the people I have worked with this summer and have come to know and love. That mixed with my overwhelming dizziness and dehydration made it hard to process everything at once. After I had a fanta maracuja (passion fruit soda) I felt much better and began to see just how excited everyone really was. All parties and the witnesses signed the piece of paper, and we took the woman to the bank to give her the money. The farm cost about $900 and the largest Rwandan bill is about $10, so we handed her a very large stack of money. I felt like such a baller carrying it around all day. The purchasing agreement needed to be taken to the local government to register the change of ownership, but it couldn’t be completed that day. In Rwanda, land and property doesn’t belong just to the Man and Wife but to their children as well, so they have to be involved in the decision and agree to it because it is their future, their investments and their right to be involved.

It’s really hard to describe how excited and full of joy everyone was on Monday. When I first told Thierry and Jean de Dieu that we raised money to buy a farm they said, “Oh, I have nothing to say, only to die because I am so happy”. I tried to reason with him that if he died no one would be there to take care of the children, but he was insistent saying “I have only to die of joy”. Thierry started the Association being trained by the Peace-building, Healing and Reconciliation Programme (PHARP), which is the group I work with. In 2005 he started the association to take care of the children affected and orphaned by AIDS in his community. Thierry and Jean de Dieu have small jobs on the side but work full time to support the children completely voluntarily. Everything extra they have goes back to the kids: time, money, food. Seeing them smile is such an amazing thing. I spend 2 to 3 days a week with them walking through these rural communities and visiting the children and it has been an incredible blessing to come to know them as friends and as brothers. They deserve so much, but the thing that makes them the most excited is knowing that the children will be taken care of. We still have so much to do to help these kids, but we’re making some good steps.

Storm troopers

2007-07-26T04:25:00.000-07:00

We flew from Kigali to Kamembe (western Rwanda) and then drove across the border to the Congo. It was fairly clear to begin with that FHI in the Congo is very different from Rwanda because the car that picked us up was adorned with stickers demonstrating that no guns were allowed on board. When crossing the border we first had to fill out forms for leaving Rwanda, our passports were scanned and our info entered into the computer. Entering the Congo, we sat in a small room with a guard who wrote our passport info into a notebook and put our visa money into his front pocket. Driving down what would be called streets also showed how warfare and little government regulation affect daily life. Bukavu is a city that was once large and thriving. It is still large but the roads and buildings have clearly not been repaired in ten years and things are falling apart. Short drives to the FHI office became an adventure in trying to stay in your seat, which never really worked as we bounced along. I’ve been in places without paved roads before,

Rwanda

has a ton, but there’s a difference between roads that have never been developed and roads that have fallen apart.

Considering we were only there for five days I learned a lot about FHI’s programs and life in the Congo in general. All the program officers happened to be in Bukavu for staff trainings so we had access to people who manage projects across a country the size of western Europe. We also got to sit in on orientation for the new gap-year volunteer, which was really productive and made me really want to be a part of the refugee resettlement projects happening in a region called Katanga. On Saturday we went to a feeding center for children orphaned by AIDS and the war, as well as children whose parents can’t afford to feed them. All the kids are under the age of 5 and were previously receiving three meals per week from this center. But with the help of funding from a US church, they now receive 6 meals a weak. It was really great to get out of the city and see how people are living, an appreciated glimpse of an all too serious reality.

We spent a lot of time enjoying Lake Kivu. Though admittedly we did get a bit too ambitious about how far we could swim, it started to get dark as we were headed back, which was pretty freaky in a lot of ways (large lake, dark water, war-torn country). The next day we went to a soccer game and were seated on the bench next to the teams. We were seated among crowd control guards that looked like storm troopers. The game and the crowd were a ton of fun to watch and thankfully the storm troopers didn't need to quell any incidents.

It was a really great trip, informative, provocative and in a weird way relaxing. All that is left to do now is figure out what to do with the offer the country director made for me to come back after I graduate. I am torn between the offer to come back to Rwanda and work with a small group or go to Congo to work for one of the main aid actors in the Eastern Congo. So many ups and downs to weigh, but thankfully I don't have to decide yet. The only thing I need to decide is whether or not to extend my time in Africa to spend more time in the Congo before school starts, which is another tempting offer that has been put on the table.

travelling

2007-07-22T05:15:00.000-07:00

This past week has meant a lot of traveling for me. On Monday I went to Kibuye for a training with one of the women’s associations. A woman in the US had created these quilts and did an art therapy type workshop with the women, teaching them how to use visual and creative expression in their support groups. It was sponsored by World Relief so I got to spend some time with one of the other major Christian development agencies. We stayed at a really beautiful guest house where I shared a room with my Rwandan boss. I think I dispelled quite a few cultural perceptions of Americans while on that trip and began to understand a few more Rwandan ones. For example, she was surprised that I do not shower everyday (I do every other day, so I’m still clean don’t worry).

I on the other hand was starting to realize that the things I was getting frustrated with come from specific cultural attitudes and not from her taking advantage of me. There have been a few instances where she has let me pay for things, one specific example where we paid the $30 cab ride to this seminar (crazy expensive for Rwandans and our budget alike) and on the way home had us wait for her to do her grocery shopping to drive her home, then we picked up her daughter and drove her to church- all before taking us home. Yes, I do need to say something but no her attitude isn’t as presumptuous as it sounds. Much of African culture is communal, and most things are shared. If you have extra, you share. So, assuming that Americans have the resources to fund these things I would be expected to share the vehicular resources and help her out. I need to explain to her that interns don’t really have resources, especially ones that have fundraised budgets.

Another story of the same cultural perception was told to me while driving home from Kibuye in which the Aid worker tried to talk to her guard about saving some of his money to put towards the computer classes he was irregularly attending.

Aid Worker: I know you are working to go to school and I wanted to talk to you about starting to save your salary to pay the fees for your computer classes in the future. Have you ever thought about saving the money?
Guard: I cannot save, it does not work.
Aid Worker: Why not?
Guard: Last time I saved money for school and then my brother needed it because he didn’t have money to go to school so I had to give it to him.
Aid Worker: Ok, well could you tell him that this time you are saving for your own schooling?
Guard: But someone else will need it then.
Aid Worker: But when does it get to be your turn, your turn to use the money you’ve been making and go to school?
Guard: Sometimes in Africa it is never your turn.

Africa is a place of community, where everything is shared. If you have extra and your family is in need, you help them. In Africa- families are often big and need is often great, so resources are stretched farther than we can imagine.

I returned from Kibuye on Tuesday evening and on Wednesday morning had a conversation with a Food for the Hungry Staff that lead me to the Democratic Republic of the Congo, which is where I sit writing to you now. She explained to me that she was going to help the country director with recruiting stuff and would love help for the 5 days she would be there. I didn’t really expect to be able to go because I had to work out permission from supervisors, a flight and medical evacuation insurance. Thankfully, my supervisors supported me going and I found cheap insurance. But it wasn’t until about an hour before the flight that I was able to find a ticket. It is very clear that God wanted me to go to the Congo this weekend I just haven’t figured out what He wants to show me here. And now I find myself in a country suffering the results of long term civil conflict, a country where warfare continues in certain regions and a country that has been on my heart for over a year.

expecting

2007-07-16T01:51:00.000-07:00

The only thing typical about an average day here for me is that my expectations and plans are normally far off. On thursday we were going to go to a hospital to visit two kids from the AIDS orphan association I work with and take one child home from the hospital with us. I was really excited for this and told that I would make it home by 2pm for another meeting. Two hours later we arrived in the city of Ruhengeri and I settled into the understanding that time estimations don't mean too much. It was about then that we got a call saying that the child had already gone home the day before, which left me expecting to get right back on a bus to Kigali. But to my relief we took a walk to the school where some of the kids go and talked to the principal for awhile, which meant the trip wasn't wasted despite our change in plans.

On friday I expected to spend some time at the local marketing researching possible goods and services we could train people to do for income generating projects. But we wound up at a Gacaca prison (where killers during the genocide are imprisoned) in order to look at the skills training and goods they produce. It was a little intimidating seeing everyone dressed in their pink outfits, which mark their participation in the genocide. I had the chance to speak with a few artists about their work, their education and their hopes for being released from prison. I have to admit that part of me was angry that they get training and opportunities for future jobs that many of the families I work with will never know. I think in that moment I learned a lot about the meaning of Grace and the judgment I carried with me for people in pink suits. The stigma associated with the pink suit works to signal a break from the past and intolerance towards those types of violence, but it also works to establish a clear sinner and victim in a history of abuse that isn't that simple.

The following day we went to a reconciliation group in a rural section of Kigali, expecting to spend time with perpetrators and victims of the genocide. It wound up being a group for children and youth to learn about reconciliation, peacebuilding and deal with the trauma many of them have suffered. We participated in their devotional and watched them sing and dance. We also had a chance to talk to three of them about their experiences, the anger they felt and the way that forgiveness has allowed them to be able to restore relationships with their parents' killers. One girl's parents were killed during the genocide, another's were killed during retaliation killings directly following the genocide and the young boy's parents were both killed by AIDS. These kids were chosen to represent three types of experiences the children face and show complexity of victimization and suffering in Rwanda. When asked what their hopes for the future were, all of them answered in ways that showed their desire to serve God and lead their communities toward peacebuilding and right relationships. The boy, Jack, is desperate to find school fees so that he can continue his education with the goal and hope of becoming a lawyer to fight for justice for people that can't fight for themselves. He asked our advice on his situation and finding school fees, the only answer we could find is to pray and know that God will be faithful to his desire to serve and love his community. This child wasn't asking for money, new shoes or a better life- all he wants is the chance to serve God. One expectation I can be sure of is that God knows Jack's heart, hears his cries and will be faithful in equipping him with everything he needs to grow as the leader he already is.

seek refuge

2007-07-10T07:59:00.001-07:00

This past weekend we traveled to Kibuye, a town in Western Rwanda along Lake Kivu. Our hotel was right on the lake and we spent time swimming, relaxing and enjoying the beauty of our surroundings. We also took a small boat to an island that is home to thousands of bats. One of our drivers was kind enough to awaken these nocturnal animals so we could see just how impressive, beautiful and stirring thousands of bats flying around can be. We went to a small church on sunday, the home church of my boss, so it was exciting to see where he grew up. During the church service a little girl came and sat on my lap and before I knew it she fell fast asleep. She was definitely one of the poorer children and probably hadn't bathed in awhile, nor had the comforts of a good breakfast or a comfortable bed. It still strikes me that she was so comfortable with a complete stranger, but maybe she just needed a warm rest and refuge from the hungers of her daily life. I have to say that watching this little girl fold into my arms completely melted away some of the anger I had been feeling earlier that day and made me realize that nothing could matter more at that moment than that child.

Lately I have been realizing that while I love it here in Rwanda, I still have a strong heart for the issues going on in the neighboring country of the Democratic Republic of the Congo. It's hard for me to understand why, because I really love it here and have an awesome opportunity to come back. I'm just wondering if it would be wise to spend some time in the Congo to make sense of the heart I have been given for these issues and the decisions I need to make in the near future.

Earlier today we went to visit a few genocide memorials in the neighboring province, which still leaves me a little unsettled. It's so difficult for me to wrap my head around the mass numbers of people that were slaughtered at one time in these churches. People sought refuge from the violence in their local churches, which during previous attacks ensured their safety, but for some reason this time was different. It's impossible to describe what it was like to walk into these buildings, former sanctuaries, and see what was left when utter destruction passed through. The only things left to tell the story of the more than 5,000 people that died in one church were the small items families brought with them when they sought refuge, the blood-stained clothes they wore on their backs and the bones they left behind when their lives were taken from them.

In a few of these memorials, pastors and priests ushered their members to safety in their sanctuaries only to inform killers of their where-abouts and sometimes lead the killings themselves. Knowing that most of the churches in Africa are plants of congregations in the western world I often wonder what would be different if we as Christians we lived our lives in a way that showed the importance of identifying in Christ before economic, ethnic or political identities. Then maybe the churches that have formed from our leadership would have known that their identity in Christ was stronger than anything else. Thankfully, many churches and Christians did get the message. The stories of heroism that emerged when people refused to be separated by their ethnic identity are incredible. At one memorial we went to, students of both ethnicities were all killed when they refused to separate after being ordered to by soldiers. Students explained that the blood of these heroes, their friends- formed the seeds of peace in their community and would continue to do so.

Processing all these stories and experiences is incredibly difficult to package into this blog so I apologize for oversimplifying some difficult things. Please give me some feedback as to what you want to hear about and your reactions, I really do love comments. In fact in our house we may or may not use it as a system for demonstrating how much people at home care about us.

discrete grace

2007-07-03T07:05:00.000-07:00

Oddly enough, the Fourth of July is one of the biggest holidays in Rwanda as it is the day they celebrate liberation from the genocide. It felt quite festive to spend the holiday with 40,000 of our closest Kigali friends packed into the soccer stadium watching military parades and stage combat demonstrations that were awesome. I also got pick-pocketed twice at the stadium, once on the way in and once on the way out. The first time a child got his finger around a bill and knocked it to the ground, I was wondering what he was standing on but once the other kids drew attention to it I yelled at him and he gave it back. The second time I caught the guy with his hand in my front pocket, though all he would have gotten was a candy wrapper. So, my first two experiences with pick-pockets I had nothing stolen. It's really interesting being in Rwanda because people and even kids really do follow some social rules. Yes, the kid did pick-pocket me but he could have taken off when I caught him, instead he just gave it back to me. It's a really fascinating place.

The other night we had dinner at a local restaurant and another Mzungu came up and asked if he could join us, we proceeded to have one of the most interesting conversations since I have been here. I guess I just didn't realize that all Mzungus here don't necessarily work on NGO row with World Vision, World Relief, Food for the Hungry or the other NGOs that live on our street. But I would still expect the other half to have some contact with Rwandan society after being here for a month. He proceeded to comment about how well people lived here and asked us if we had picked up any swahili. Funny that the strip between his apartment and his work is pretty nice so he may not have ran into any of the families living on well under a dollar a day, but not that funny that he hasn't realized they speak kinyarwanda here and not swahili.

Rwanda is a much more discrete place than you would imagine. Kigali is a well manicured and clean city (for the developing world), yet if you scratch the surface a little bit more you will definitely see a significant amount of the socio-economic issues that you read about in books. The other day I had a long chat with the people I work with about the details of the things trainings and associations. I was surprised to learn of a cultural practice which iss increasing the rate of HIV/AIDS infection in which young men proceed to have unprotected sex with potential wives to see if they can satisfy him, which is believed to be dependent on the young woman's participation in a process of elongating the minola labia. Oddly enough, the organization I work with is one of the only ones doing trainings with youth to explain the biology of sexual satisfaction and HIV/AIDS prevention in the context of this cultural practice. The pressure put on girls to participate in order to find a husband is one of those discreet issues that you wouldn't stumble across unless you are as blessed as I am to have some of the most open and courageous bosses who aren't afraid to take on some seriously socially taboo issues. I was also surprised that talking about these issues with an older male pastor wasn't awkward at all.

One of the other issues we talked about during our chat was the need for the organization to increase their capacity and maybe take on some more staff. They mentioned that they have been praying for someone from the US to come and work for them to improve their connection with supporters and facilitate the new research center that is opening up. They were really excited when I told them I was thinking of coming back and offered me the job and many prayers of guidance along the decision making process. It's a really amazing opportunity to get involved in a really incredible ministry doing so much of what I am passionate about. I am also surprised that I have an overwhelming peace about it. Normally I would be totally stressed about a decision like this but I'm content to wait for God to reveal His will for my life in the near future. I am actively soliciting prayers for guidance and for God to continue to reveal more of his grace in the discreetly consuming country.

giggles and bare feet

2007-06-29T06:22:00.001-07:00

Have you ever been simultaneously amazed and overwhelmed by God's faithfulness? Well, that's me right now. I was starting to get frustrated with my job and not being able to get involved with the planning and implementation of projects. I had resolved myself to be satisfied with what I had been given. But all in God's timing a really awesome opportunity to get my hands dirty came up when my boss asked me to find a market for some small handcrafts some of the women make. I am now facilitating a small income generation project for the organizations I work with and trying to implement some credit and finance training. In English that means activities for people to make money and learn about budgeting and saving. But from there it turned into helping the organizations develop a plan to create and fund sustainable projects for the organizations.

Right now, in one of the organizations, 8 people work to serve over 100 children orphaned by HIV/AIDS without salaries and only $1000 with which they bought a farm and some animals to feed the children. The small jobs they hold outside the association fund their bills, transportation and communication for the association. They're dedication is incredible. They visit these children twice a week throughout a spread-out rural district; teach them dancing, drama and other activities every saturday; and help out with food, school fees and transportation costs whenever they can. I go with them to visit kids and am amazed by the situation I usually find myself in. Mostly I feel useless because besides showing up I don't do much. I also get really frustrated because we sit in these small dark mud huts that smell so damp and I just want to pick these kids up and hold them for awhile and tell them that it's going to be ok. But deep down inside I know that eve if I did know how to say that in Kinyarwanda, it might not get better and it's certainly not ok that these beautiful kids live like this. I think the hardest thing is that I have yet to find a way to show them any part of the love that I have for them, as cheesy as it sounds I am constantly surprised by the simultaneous love and frustration I feel walking through these small villages trailed by giggles and bare feet.

Our last visit to the community we talked about how the association can find a way to feed the children, pay schools fees and find salaries for the staff. It's awesome to see how excited they get about the possibility of expanding their project. Yesterday I was talking through some options with Thierry and Jean de Dieu and they started choking up they were so happy. It made me feel really terrible, because I can't promise that anything I do will make a difference. But these amazingly faithful people know that God will take care of them and they are praying, oddly enough, for me and that God would use me to help them. I'm starting to realize the amazing amount of love God has for these people and that His incredible faithfulness will provide for them and probably teach me a few lessons about love along the way.

farming

2007-06-24T23:06:00.000-07:00

Another weekend has come and gone and we have officially been here for over two weeks. At the end of last week I went to an agriculture training seminar for the association of families affected by HIV/AIDS that I work with. The first day was just a classroom setting, where we learned all about diseases that affect cabbage and how to treat them. All of this was translated to me, and while people learning to better their own food security is exciting to me, cabbage diseases aren't my thing. So, I mostly sat there and did my best to look interested. Which is why I was so surprised when they insisted that I be in the picture when the seminar was over. Again I was surprised when I realized it was not a group photo they wanted, but a series of photos where each person there stood with the mzungu. I felt like mickey mouse at Disney World and had to laugh and the sheer awkwardness of the situation. The next day we got to go to the farm and see the animals, which was much more fun. Getting there was intense though, really bumpy dirt roads adjacent to very steep drops are a bit nerve racking. But we finally got there and saw the cows, the goats and the crops. This was very exciting for a city girl like me, and I did my best to pose for the photos when they discreetly made sure I was in them.

But for the children living in the area, the farm life wasn't the big attraction, seeing a white person for the first time was. I don't know who tells these kids that white people are going to eat them, but I now understand why my presence makes them so uneasy. I think I am exaggerating the awkwardness of my mzungu status a little, so try not to take this too seriously, though all of these events are in fact true. It was really interesting to see how meat, eggs and vegetables would improve the health and life conditions of the children fighting infections in a world that all too often forgets how easy it is to make things better.

The rest of the weekend we explored Kigali with many cultural, directional and quite humorous adventures along the way. After verifying that the market we were so interested in finding, in fact only sold lumber and furniture, we traveled to the other side of town to the market with cloth, food, etc. We spent much time negotiating and picking out the perfect fabrics and I'm pretty sure our indecisiveness drove the vendors absolutely nuts. That afternoon some college students from the local university joined us for some soccer and dinner. It was really awesome to chat with people our age and hopefully we will be able to get to know them better throughout the summer. The next day we went to church service in Kinyarwanda (the same one we went to the first sunday) where they were having a special service for the children. It was awesome, and thankfully someone translated for us. But after four hours of sitting on hard benches we couldn't take it any more and had to leave. Funny that the children had a longer attention span than we did.

After church we headed back to the house and met one of our cooks on the street who invited us to her house. We met the family and later traveled into town to find lunch and groceries. I really wish our french or kinyarwanda skills were better because we would have avoided getting ripped off. Thankfully, we are a very resilient group and were back to laughing hysterically very shortly, admittedly without enough money for groceries to make dinner and get back to the house. So we aborted the groceries and settled for ice cream and a ride home.

Kigali Express

2007-06-20T05:28:00.000-07:00

This past weekend we traveled to Gitarama, a more rural city about 45 minutes from Kigali, to visit the other interns who are living there. In order to give you a better picture of our journey, I would like you to picture a 15 passenger van with about 22 people stuffed into it for about an hour and 15 minutes (vans that full can't go as fast), driving through the beautiful hills of Rwanda's countryside. It was quite funny, but its even funnier that on the way back we neglected to notice the difference between the Kigali express and the regular Kigali bus, and wound up stopping every few miles for people to get on and off.

Once we made it to Gitarama, we decided to take a hike to this one tree we saw in the distance (random I know, but it seemed like a good idea). We had no idea how long it would take us to weave through the hills so we planned to hike for about 4 to 5 hours. 45 minutes later we had achieved our goal and reached the tree, accompanied by about 30 children from the villages along the way. At one point we decided to stop in a school yard to play with them and wound up playing duck duck goose (or guck guck juice for the children trying to say it). I don't think I've ever had so much fun playing duck duck goose ever.

Living at the guest house in Kigali has been fun too. There are always different people staying here, coming and going, from very different walks of life. One guest, who has asked not to be named in blogging, had some amazing stories from his travels all over the world. Right now we have a big group of people, who for some reason think that us interns work at the guest house as staff. Probably because we entertain their worrisome questions and help out the cooks and stuff. It's kinda funny, but I really do have another job...

The internship is going well. The women are working really hard with learning English and I am actually picking up Kinyarwanda pretty fast. It's been really great to see how big fancy terms like reconciliation and development work on the ground. Mostly as people helping others, improving their lives and learning to trust in the gravity of the forgiveness and healing of Christ. Sometimes I wonder what I really have to contribute, because besides being white and showing up I don't really do all that much. Computer skills and English come with the territory of most Americans my age and all I have done to support victims of trauma is sit there. I guess I take for granted how much a ministry depends upon supporters and communication to do its work, and facilitating that has the potential to really help their work. But now, as I sit and watch my grateful computer student make new folders and drag files into them for over an hour, I am amazed by how many simple things I haven't been able to and how patient God is to let me try again.

Rwanda really is a beautiful country, the land of a thousand hills. And every day I am surprised by the things that God is doing here, in reconciling his body back together and in this awkward little servant who is doing her best to follow along.

life thus far....

2007-06-13T10:49:00.000-07:00

We have been in Kigali (Rwanda) for 5 days so far and it seems almost impossible to describe it all, so I think I will start with what I am doing for my internship. I am working with the Peace, Healing and Reconciliation Program in Kigali with the two other full time staff and some really awesome young women, most of whom were orphaned during the genocide in 1994. Every morning we get together and do devotions, thankfully someone translates for me. Listening to their perspective on biblical passages has been incredible, never would I have applied the story of Rebekah welcoming the man at the well for how we should treat people from other tribes and backgrounds, nor would it have had such a profound meaning to their personal experiences.

After bible studies I teach the women english- as cliche as that sounds whatever they learn will get them a job and a way to sustain themselves. I'll also spend time visiting HIV/AIDS orphans and going to the Gacaca courts (a time where the community comes together to testify against murders in the genocide), sitting in on reconciliation groups and trainings, designing a newsletter for the organization and connecting them to funders and partners in the US. But the part I am the most excited about is the research center which they are starting to bring scholars and others to Rwanda to learn about the specific challenges to development, security, environment, etc that this area experiences (meaning the people group that spans the borders of Rwanda, Congo, Burundi and Tanzania).

We live in Food for the Hungry's guest house in Kigali, which has an awesome view of the rolling hills of Kigali and it has internet too. And if that isn't enough we also have about 30 neighborhood children come play with us every afternoon after school. They find the mozungus (white people) quite entertaining and we enjoy the attention, as well as the linguistic awkwardness of our exchanges. There are 6 other interns down here for the summer living in Kigali and Gitarama, we are learning to be flexible though we have no idea what's going on in our lives. More on that, and the characters of this adventure of mine can be found in a video series we have been putting together. Yes we probably have better things to do, but it's pretty hysterical... the first one is an introduction while we were still in Phoenix for orientation, more to come soon