Being a Student Isn't Such a Bad Thing...

"The student is not above the teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for students to be like their teachers, and servants like their masters." - Matthew 10:24-25, NIV

" 'n Leerling is nie verhewe bo sy onderwyser nie. 'n Slaaf ook nie bo sy baas nie. 'n Leerling behoort tevrede daarmee te wees as dit met hom gaan soos met sy onderwyser, en die slaaf soos met sy baas." - Matteus 10:24-25, NLV

I love the line, "It is enough for students to be like their teachers."  As children, we didn't have a choice as to who our teachers were.  As adults, we do.  Choose carefully.

Thoughts on Working Cross-Culturally

"In Christian mission the goal is not that some people 'out there' are brought closer to God by our work, but rather that we are all brought closer to God... How many of us have learnt too late that our initial idea, that by serving the world we will help bring God to others, has eclipsed the wisdom that in serving the world we will find God there." - Peter Rollins, How (Not) to Speak of God

I am horribly ashamed to admit this, but when I first moved to South Africa I thought I knew exactly what to do.  That idea was crushed fairly quickly, and thus began my journey of becoming a student of the country.  It is humbling to forever be in the position of learner - the one who does not know (yet!) - and to constantly have to ask questions, study language, feel confused, make mistakes, etc. 

The good side of all of this is that I have gained infinitely more than if I had maintained my "expert" status upon arrival in South Africa.  Most importantly, I have learned much about God through the peoples of South Africa - things I never would have learned in my own country.  This is not due to any fault of my home country, but rather because I believe God puts something of Himself into each culture of the world - some aspect of His character that makes each people group so unique and beautiful.  I never would have realised this if I had maintained an arrogant stance... 

For the purpose of learning (and hopefully stumbling upon more delightful realisations!), I've made peace with being the perpetual student, the one who does not know (yet!).  Humility - which I admit is an emerging skill on my part - is a good thing after all...

Maybe We've Gotten it All Backwards...

For decades, I've been taught ways in which the Bible applies to my life, but never has anyone preached on how my life applies to the Bible. In other words, Western teaching places the focus on the individual rather than on the Grand Narrative.

If the point is not how this story applies to me but how my life fits into this story - God's story - as an additional chapter or subplot, would I act differently? Would I be less of a consumer and more of a contributor? Would I stop praying as though God is a magic genie, there to grant all my wishes, and pray more as a participant (or even as a teammate)?

My Winter Africa

The sun shines passionately this afternoon, a rarity in this cold winter. I remove my shoes and socks and let the sun warm the soles of my feet.  It is a gift, this warmth, this freedom my normally-bundled feet experience.

I decide to take a walk on the grass. It is winter's grass - dry and yellow - and sharp against my softened soles.  A hundred thousand nerve endings scream in joyful protest - "Stop! (But no...) Keep going!" - for even they know what a precious gift this afternoon is.  They soldier through the prickly grass and in a moment are desensitised and able to walk more firmly.

Pause. Notice. Breathe. Be fully present to the moment, let your senses soak in all the stimuli. I take several photos and try to capture the moment, knowing it is futile. Can you capture the sun dancing on the water's surface in a million pirouettes? Can you record the sound of nature's symphony, the various movements and story lines? Can you bottle up the smell of the afternoon breeze that stirs up fallen bird feathers -  ethereal, downy wisps that float by gracefully?

The sun will soon set, taking this gift of warmth with her. The ducks seem to know this and play frenetically in the water - diving here, chasing there, skimming the water's surface in choreographed artistry. Oh, to be able to understand it! - and yet, I need not understand to appreciate the beauty. Indeed, the fleetingness of the moment begs my attention and respect.

 I walk back slowly, listening to my bare feet which have joined in the music and added their rhythm with every step - "I'm alive. I'm alive. I'm alive!"

A Good Dose of Perspective

Ever have one of those moments when a good dose of perspective completely changes the situation?  I had one of those moments today...

Some kids were playing outside this afternoon.  Normally I love the sound of children playing, but one of the boys was standing outside of my house and screaming.  Happy screaming, but screaming nonetheless.  This went on for quite some time to the point where I was beginning to feel irritated. 

I debated whether or not I should say something.  I certainly don't want to be known as the grumpy neighbour, or the "mean" neighbour... but I was really beginning to lose my mind after an hour of screaming.  I decided to open the door and politely ask the boy if he could stop screaming for a few minutes.  And that's when I got a much-needed dose of perspective.

The boy standing outside of my house is a boy with Down's Syndrome.  He lives two doors down and normally he isn't allowed outside.  He is kept "hidden" by his family.  But today, here he was, happily playing in the street and screaming with joy.  How could I possibly feel irritated?  I was actually so glad that he got a taste of "freedom" that I suddenly didn't mind the screaming.  In fact, I feel a bit guilty for ever feeling frustrated.

 All of this makes me wonder... what if there is "a good dose of perspective" to all of the other things that cause me frustration in life?  I'm actually feeling a bit ashamed, wondering if I've been the "grumpy neighbour" more than I know, simply because I didn't know the whole story. 

I think I need to pause the next time I feel frustrated and try to see things from a different angle...

The Lesson of the Red Mittens

I am wearing a pair of red mittens.  They are warm and cosy and bright.  They are also highly impractical, as I have to take them off in order to use my hands for anything requiring more than holding a cup of coffee!

These mittens are old - at least 15 years - and they were a Christmas gift from a former colleague of mine.  I rarely wear them, and I am not sure why I kept them (let alone brought them to Africa) except that they remind me of the gift-giver.

Dondi was the receptionist at the church where I used to work.  She was the one who answered the phones and helped people who walked into the office.  She was, in other words, the point of entry for anyone contacting the church.  And she was the bravest woman I ever met.

Dondi battled cancer for many years.  This is not so unusual in and of itself, but Dondi battled a vicious cancer - one that infiltrated nearly every cell of her body.  How she managed to gather the resolve to come into work every day I'll never know.  It was obvious that Dondi battled with pain - her body gave that away - but her face and her spirit were bubbling with life.

"It's a beautiful day at Big Valley Grace Church! How may I help you?" was Dondi's way of answering telephone calls.  When the phones weren't ringing she was busy sewing puppet costumes or planning lessons for children's church.  If a staff member walked through the office hurriedly, feeling overwhelmed by the challenges of the day, Dondi would stop them, cause them to pause, and simply dance with them for a few minutes.  Dancing with a woman who is fighting for her life tends to put things in perspective.

Dondi finally succumbed to cancer after a seven-year-battle, passing away on Resurrection Sunday (how fitting) fourteen years ago.  The first place I ever took my newborn daughter was to Dondi's funeral.  And now - 15 years later - I am sitting at a computer wearing these warm, cosy (and highly impractical) mittens, wondering "What's this all about?"

You may not be the point of entry for a church, or even an office, but you may be the point of entry to something else.  Indeed, may I suggest that all of us are points of entry in one form or another - to Hope, perhaps.  Healing.  Faith.  Reconciliation. 

May I also suggest that - no matter what challenges or circumstances cross our paths - we pause and take the time to dance for a few minutes, because despite all that ails us and threatens to rob us of joy, "It's [still] a beautiful day"... wherever you are in the world.

Dear South Africa...

May I join in your song, your dance, your beauty? I know I am not indigenous but I promise to be respectful of all that is. I desire to see you reach your potential and to contribute in whatever way I can toward helping you achieve greatness - both as a nation and as individual people.

I humbly commit to learn your cultures, your languages (at least a few of them!), your values and your philosophies. I will rejoice in and celebrate your uniqueness, and hold dear all that you have to offer, to teach, and to share.  I will honour and respect you, and work for your benefit.

I offer myself to you; would you allow me to learn how to become a grace note to you?