Reflections Series [2]...

If you haven't read the first of these posts... read at least the beginning part to know what's going on. I've enjoyed this little unveiling of sorts of people that read and don't normally comment as well... so, if you're still one of those people... now is your time!

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Go and Make _____?
October 31, 2007

A lot of what I have been processing through lately has led me to some interesting conclusions.

Perhaps they aren’t conclusions at all… Maybe they are just more questions.

But, since I’ve been here, I’ve had to come to grips with the fact that there are a ton of people here doing development work. A TON!

Just about every single organization that I have talked with has a different take on development. What works best? What does a Christian development/mission agency look like? How can we make what we’re doing here sustainable after we leave?

Those are all very hard questions, with answers that are rarely black and white.

With all of the organizations and approaches that I have seen over the last few months, I have seen ones that are working great and ones that are doing a really crappy job.

So… I’m trying to figure out what I think about all this. More importantly, what God thinks about this? What does the Bible say regarding missions and development? So… trek with me on this little process of my thoughts.

Jesus gives us two clear commandments: GO and MAKE (Matthew 28:19)

Now… the question becomes… Where are we supposed to go? What are we supposed to make? Those are very important questions to have to right answers to, right?

It seems like we are pretty clear on the GO part of the commandment. We are all pretty sure that Jesus meant for us (the Body of Christ) to go to all nations. It seems like most churches have a pretty good grasp on that. Some are doing much better with it than others, but most Bible-believing churches feel that it is important to at least set aside some money to send people around the world.

However, things start getting really fuzzy when we get to the second part of the commandment. MAKE. What are we commanded to make?

Make money? … No.

Make babies? … No … although not a bad idea!

Make people happy? … No … although widely popular.

Make people not die as fast, and their bellies not stick out so far? … No … although it is a sad tragedy that this is the case in a world full of affluence like we live in.

Make converts to Christianity? … No … although many would disagree with me on that one.

We are commanded to do one thing...

MAKE DISCIPLES.

A disciple is not a convert. A disciple is not just a “Christian” like we have come to understand Christianity today.

A disciple looks a lot like Jesus… not just with their words, but with their entire life.

The reality is… the church has historically done a horrible job of making disciples.

There is a saying that says: “Christianity in Africa is a mile wide, but only an inch deep."

Although, I would have to say that I have met some really amazing followers of Jesus here in Malawi, there are thousands of people that claim to be “Christians”, but know nothing about it. That is of very little fault of their own. I believe that is because the Christianity that we have presented to people places very little value on discipleship. The Disciple-er will be accountable for that one.

OK… So, here is where I want you to follow my thought process. See, the more and more I follow after Jesus and try my hardest to live out His Word, the more I see how much it really is truth. For years, I accepted the Bible as “God’s Word”, but in reality, I really didn’t think it was all that applicable to our culture today. My thoughts always trumped the Bible. My culture always trumped the Bible. But, through experience, I am learning over and over again that as goofy as things in Scripture may seem when you read them, they really are truth… and they really do work!

Back to Malawi…

The reality is, there are problems on so many levels. It’s not just in this country… it’s that way in many developing countries.

There are problems like HIV/AIDS that affect a person and a family at the micro level… but, behind most of the individual problems, you will find a structural problem. These are at the macro level. The government. The cultural norms. Stuff like that.

So, as a missionary that is focusing most of your time on social issues, like helping people with AIDS, or trying to eradicate poverty, you spend your time trying to build things up from the bottom. You work with an individual to empower them, ect.

But, as a foreigner, I’m not allowed to vote. I shouldn’t be making structural changes in a society that is not my own… that needs to come from people within. So, in a way, my hands are tied. Yeah, I can bandage a wound and tell people that Jesus loves them, but I can’t do much that is lasting.

But, if we return to Scripture and heed Jesus’ call to make disciples, a lot of that will be taken care of from within.

A disciple will have a servant’s heart. A disciple will want to fight injustices in their society. A disciple will care for those around them that are suffering. A disciple will fight corruption.

You see where I’m going with this.

Here are the problems that I am seeing…

All of this aid money is flowing into developing countries from the West. However, when it crosses that big ocean, much of it gets filtered through a huge funnel of corruption and selfishness. There are stories all the time of high level officials that are caught using international aid funding for their personal gain. These officials get bigger houses and better cars, and there are still millions that are left starving and dying of preventable diseases in their countries. The problem there is lack of morals. Selfishness. The opposite of Jesus.

Many of the wealthy Malawians that I have met have come from a background of extreme poverty. They have worked their tails off to get out of that position. They have a nice place to live now, and their family is taken care of. But, somewhere in that jump from poverty to comfort, many people have lost their compassion for the poor. I think that many of us would do the exact same thing. Just like in the West, they have had the taste of money, and can't get enough.

I see it a lot even in the churches. Many churches are presenting this half-gospel that tells people that God wants everyone to become rich and “serve no man”. Why should we be surprised that that message is rampant in Africa, when it was born in the West. We have forgotten that the call of Christ is to become lowly. To serve. To sacrifice.

So… here’s my vision.

To see a group of Malawians catch the true heart of Christ.

Don’t get me wrong… there are Malawians that have a greater faith than I can imagine, and are serving their communities in powerful ways.

But, as I sit with a group of youth, who have just finished secondary school and are stepping up to become the new face of Malawi… I just desperately want them to catch the heart of Christ.

I would love to see them take their education… take their talents and gifts… and do things that foreign developmental agencies would never think of doing.

There is so much potential!

So… I think that Jesus was on to something when he just said for us to just “go and makes some disciples”.

Not… go cure all the world’s ills.

Just go and change the way people see the world around them. I mean… that’s basically what the gospel does when it truly penetrates our hearts right? It completely changes the way we think and the way we see.

So… what do you think? I want some thoughts about this. Help me process through this one… Am I being “narrow-minded”? … Where should Christians draw a line?

Reflections Series [1]...

Well... in just a few days, I'll load my American sized* allotment of luggage into the car and head to the airport. This week has more or less been designated to packing and taking care of all the loose ends around here. I think that in order to avoid really accomplishing anything (such as organizing my luggage), I have just sat around on my computer finding funny new websites that take my mind off of things, as well as reading back over some older stuff I wrote on here.

You would think that with all this extra time to kill, I would be throwing tons of new posts up here for you guys to read about what's going on. But, honestly, I'm just kinda not feeling all that creative, and uninspired to write.

However, as I read through some of the things that I wrote early on in my time here, it was really cool to remember what I was thinking then. Some of those things had already entered that part of my long-term memory that doesn't allow things to resurface for another few years. I also know that since posting some things, I have new and different people that now visit my blog.**

So, I figured that for the next few days before I leave, I am going to feature an older post that I really liked for everyone to read again (or for the first time). This allows me to continue to be seemingly uncreative, but still feel like I'm doing something!

Enjoy...

*Americans get considerably larger luggage allotments than any other country in the entire world. I'm convinced that this is one of the primary reasons why so many people hate us.

**If you read my blog, I want to know who you are! It's OK to be a creepy blog stalker for a few weeks or even months... but eventually you must come out and reveal yourself. So, leave some comments and let me know who you are!

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Tomatoes In Spaghetti

Friday, October 5, 2007

Tonight I sit. I sit and wonder where to begin. The depths of this culture, and the weight of its problems have just been splattered in my face like a child sneaking up behind me and squirting me in the eyes with a water pistol. No warning. Completely caught off guard. I find myself blinded by the very thing I'm attempting to wrap my head around.

Disillusioned. I feel a bit disillusioned about what is really happening around me. I guess when it all comes at you at once, you just kind of throw up both fists and close your eyes. I read all these books and do my best to be an activist when I'm in the US, but when I get here and those words on the pages are suddenly selling me tomatoes in the market, I find it hard to transfer. How do I get from ink on a page to real skin and bones with blood flowing through their veins?

I guess it's human nature. When you encounter things of such extreme magnitude, the human mind must just slip on its magical glasses that allows you to look directly at someone and not have a clue about what they live like each day. For some extremely odd reason, it is easier for me to ignore poverty over here. Did I just write that? Even in my head, it makes absolutely no sense! I don't know how I can live on the same piece of property as a man, his wife, two children and flock of chickens, and never pause to think about what he must be thinking about. What does poverty feel like? What does your stomach feel like, in the depths of you, when you are malnourished?

Terms. We love terms. We like it even more to just put a term on someone.

Orphan... A child with no parents. That's easy enough. I can sleep comfortably at night with that term. How does it feel to watch and attempt to process through your parents dieing in front of your very eyes at the age of four? It's completely out of my realm of thought. What does it feel like now, five years later, when the people taking care of you have lost interest in you? You feel like you're not human? "Do I deserve this?", you must think. "Maybe I do deserve this. Maybe I am second class."

Poverty. Apparently this term puts you under some imaginary line that we've formulated. When someone is "below the poverty line" we can easily wash out their face and chunk them in the pile with the rest of the faceless numbers that we like to strategize about. What does it feel like? What goes through your head when you know these few bites of nsima aren't going to keep your child from waking up half-way through the night screaming for more to eat? Does it seem harder to breathe when you feel the weight of all your problems stacking up on your head like water basin after water basin? Do you live in fear that at any second, you'll step on a rock, loose balance, and the water will plummet to the ground?

Poverty. We just love that word! We love to slap it on the covers of trendy magazines. Toss it around over a cup of coffee with friends. Say it oh so strategically in a campaign speech. It's just become one of those "all-American words" these days. We love that word! But, I hate what that word has done in me! Like a dusty wind, it has dried all the tears from my eyes. If it's too hard to grasp what it feels like, then I guess I just shouldn't even bother reaching.

So, I find myself at the market, starring into the eyes of a person... not a word on a page in a book on my shelf in my air-conditioned house. This is real. This person has kids, probably playing around behind the market, waiting for their mom to sell just a few more tomatoes and maybe tonight they will be able to have a nibble of chicken with their nsima. So, I look at this person. What do I see? I see a blur. They are talking, but I simply hear words. I'm thinking about two things... tomatoes and kwacha (money). Surely 15 cents is entirely too much for four tomatoes, I must get her down to 12 cents. So... I do. And I walk home with my bags full of vegetables and my pockets full of kwacha... and I make spaghetti.

What did tomato lady do tonight? You think that even passed through my mind? She lives over in that distant place called "poverty". At some point I will devise a cure-all program for her and all the rest of her faceless friends. But, for tonight... there's spaghetti... and it tastes good!! When I'm done with that, I'll make some tea, grab a book and read a little... write in my journal about that place called "poverty" and then mosey on to bed. Of course, not before a nice bath at just the right temperature.

Man... that spaghetti sure was good!

Pastors' Book Set Conference

This afternoon I found myself sitting on the back row of a large church filled with pastors from around the area with this cool feeling deep down inside me.

Today we launched the first of four major conferences called the Pastors' Book Set in Malawi.

Basically, SIM found a way to get together a collection of over 60 books that would be helpful for pastors and buy them at cost or less. Then, we raised some money for this massive project and have asked pastors to contribute $75 to attend this 5 day conference and walk away at the end of the week with this amazing collection of books valued at several hundred dollars.

As I arrived at the venue early this morning to help with registration, the line of pastors was already getting long. There was excitement among each one of them. As I hung out there all day and was able to mingle around a bit, I realized for the first time how great this thing that we had been planning for months and months really is.

Just before leaving to come back to Blantyre this afternoon, as I was sitting on the back row of the church, looking over row after row of heads eagerly soaking up all that the speaker was saying about developing a passion about proclaiming the Word of God, I just felt this cool rush come over me.

One of the things that has been on my heart most while living here in Malawi and experiencing life here is that there is a huge need for good discipleship. There are a ton of "Christians", but few people that truly know what it means to follow Christ fully... that even goes for "pastors".

But, I was able to sit there on that back row, confident that for the next five days, this room full of leaders would hear truth... and they were soaking it up. Even more encouraging than that was the fact that the majority of the speakers were from within Malawi... and what little I heard thoroughly impressed me.

It gave me great hope. A renewed hope that God is still working powerfully in Malawi. His work here has very little to do with me or my contributions. He is at work in bringing every person to glorify His name... and there is a room full of people right now that are extremely eager to do that.

Please pray for these conferences. From now until the end of June, we will have four different conferences in different parts of Malawi, with the potential for 2000 pastors to attend. Pray that these Pastors would hear truth and apply it to their lives. Pray against schemes of the enemy to stop these from happening. Pray that these would be more than simply "conferences" where people leave with a bag full of books. Pray for discipleship in Malawi.

Saying Goodbye to Chapananga...

The beginning of the end has officially begun for me. In a week and a half I'll be bidding farewell to the beautiful Malawi. So, this week I had my last visit to one of our Home-Based Care sites in the rural areas.

Chapananga is one of my favorite sites. It's not really because it's pretty or the accommodation is nice... it's quite the opposite. We rent out a little house there for 400MK ($2.85) a month for us to stay in when we go down. On this trip, I decided that I would just go all out and travel like a Malawian. Basically, I just packed a shirt to change in to for the next day and a pillow. I slept on a reed mat on the floor with just a sheet. I even decided to forgo the mosquito net (I can say those things now, because I'm about to leave and can't really get in trouble)!

But, the reason I love Chapananga so much is the people there. I don't know what it is about them, but I just really click with them. I love to try out my Chichewa skills when I go down there. I love to joke with the older guys about things. I love to see the hope and vision of the younger ones. They're just a cool group!

One of the perks of the sleep over was being able to watch a group do a drama based on one of the peer education sessions that a friend and myself wrote. It was really great too! They did such an awesome job. It gave me such hope and excitement that there was such talent and motivation in such a rural setting. I believe they really will be able to make a difference.

I left there feeling really good about my time in Malawi. It was a really awesome thing to listen to them praying as we were leaving and catching a few lines in Chichewa about asking God to be with "Lioni" (me) on my journey back to America.

It is definitely a weird feeling to know that most likely, I will never see those people again. But, God is developing a really cool peace in my heart about all of it.

Chapananga Home-Based Care Volunteers...

(sporting their band new t-shirts!)

Home-Based Care visit in Chapananga

Mulanje or Bust...

"I lift my eyes to the hills, where does my help come from?
My helps comes from the Lord, the Maker of Heaven and Earth.
He will not let your foot slip,
He who watches over you will not slumber;
Indeed, he who watches over Israel
will neither slumber nor sleep.
The Lord watches over you, the Lord is your shade at your right hand;
The sun will not harm you by day nor the moon by night.
The Lord will keep you from all harm,
He will watch over your life;
The Lord will watch over your coming and going
both now and forevermore."
~Psalm 121

This passage was cycled on repeat in my head last week over and over again as I found myself scaling up the side of the third tallest mountain in Africa.

Mount Mulanje is a mountain full of surprises. For instance, the standard picture that everyone sees of the mountain is this...

It looks big and all, but you tend to think... "I can handle that... no biggie."

Well... I found this to be a very misleading ideal. This picture in fact is no where near the height of the mountain, but merely the first level that veils the true summit hidden within.

We spent our first full day in staircase mode. It was absolutely grueling! The group of eight of us was constantly stopping, because each of our bodies were screaming to us at different times. The only consolation for the agony was the fact that it was an absolutely beautiful day. There are always clouds hovering atop the mountain... but for some reason, it was crystal clear on this day. So, we were able to take in some spectacular views.

Despite the gorgeous scenery, day 1 would not be a day that I will look back fondly on. Once we climbed uphill for a few hours, we reached a plateau of sorts. The rest of the day would be relatively flat. Praise God! However, my legs were still a little bitter about what I had previously exposed them to, and they weren't going to let me off the hook just because I fed them some boiled eggs and a tangerine!

As we began walking again after lunch, I began to get some slight cramps in my legs. "Slight" quickly turned in to "extreme"! At one point, I felt the cramps coming on and began shedding my gear.... by the time my backpack hit the ground, my legs had both completely locked up with cramps up and down them, and I simply fell like a tree to the ground and squirmed for a while. It was sheer agony! I thought I was just gonna have to jump off the mountain and call it a day. Despite the fact that I felt like someone was digging into my body with a machete, everyone around me found amusement in my sufferings! In attempts to alleviate the pain, I was doing some pretty bizarre things with my body. We ended up calling it the "white-boy tribal dance". I will never forget the look on the face of one of our porters while he was watching me. He probably thought I had just loaded up on heroine or something.

Needless to say, by the time we reached our destination the first night, we were forced to have a little "come to Jesus" meeting and rethink our plans for reaching the summit.

It was rather quickly decided that we would go with the Malawian cultural practice in regard to the summit and stay away! The very name of it, Sepitwa, translated means "never go there".

Although my pride was a little dented, I knew that it would be better to come home with both legs than to come home with extra pride. So, I didn't mind all that much that we had to change the plan.

After that first day though, my legs forgave me and we moved on. The next two days of hiking were hard, but I didn't really have any troubles. When you are in such an amazing environment, you just can't think about how bad everything hurts for too long.

I think that one of the other highlights of the trip was that it was basically like a three day crash course in Winter for me. You see, I've pretty much skipped a whole season in my life. When I left the States, it was hot. When I got to Malawi it was hot. Pretty much the entire time I've been here it's been hot... and when I return it will be even hotter! But, three days on top of a mountain will do the trick. Nights were bitter cold. We took turns waking up at night to keep the fire ablaze as we were buried beneath layers of clothes and heavy sleeping bags. So, with my long-sleeves and new scarf on, I was understandably giddy!

As we began our decent on the last day, there was only one thing on everyone's mind... pizza! As soon as we hit the bottom, we loaded up in the cars and headed to this little Italian restaurant in the middle of nowhere and had amazing brick oven pizzas. I just don't think pizza will ever taste the same again.

All in all, climbing Mulanje was an incredible experience. I learned more about myself, about God and about the amazingness of His creation.

Enjoy a few pictures...

This is the crew (minus the photographer, Candy)

Chombe Peak... This is basically a mountain on top of a mountain!

These are just different peaks that are all considered part of Mulanje...

This is me in my poofy pants looking like a lumberjack!

The last day was wet and cold!

A cool tree on the side of a cliff...

See a slideshow of all my photos from Mulanje

Gladys' Story...

A little over a month ago, my neighbor returned from a short trip down to her home village with an extra piece of luggage.

That's when my neighbor's niece, Gladys, showed up in our lives.

When Agnes arrived at her family's home, she realized that they had no money and 4 children. The family had been surviving on very little, and it was beginning to show in the small children.

Without any other real options, Agnes did what any other loving aunt would do... she brought one of the children home to live with her family for a while.

I remember the first day that Gladys showed up at our place. She was sitting on the ground about to tip over because it looked like someone had completely sucked every bit of life out from her. She was severely malnourished and in need of some desperate help.

For weeks, she would simply sit in the middle of the back yard full of energetic children running past her left and right, nearly knocking her head off with the soccer ball, and she just wouldn't even flinch.

As her diet began to stabilize, her energy and health followed suit. It's been more than a month now, and she is still by far the quietest and most energy hunger child that plays around in our backyard... but there is that glimmer of hope.

I see that hope when I walk up to her among all the other children and extend my hands toward her... she smiles really big and bashfully and extends her hands out towards mine. I proceed to pick her up and whirl her through the air like an airplane and listen to her scream with excitement.

Her short life thus far has been difficult... no doubt. But, all we have is hope right?

All I have is hope that when she returns back home to her mother and father this weekend, she will not end up the way she was just one month prior. I have hope that she will remember how it felt to be special. That she will remember how it felt to be picked up and thrown into the air.

I hope she dreams...

I hope she smiles...

I hope she survives in this dark, cold world...

This is my prayer for Gladys.

Today, after realizing she would be leaving soon, I went over and picked her up and started talking to her. I asked her what my name was... coming from the mouth of a tiny girl that never mumbles anything even to other children, she spoke a single word that I could barely hear: "Lioni"

I have hope.

:::::UPDATE:::::

Today, we brought Gladys to the hospital to get her checked out before returning back to her village. Turns out, she has an extremely severe case of malaria that she has been living with for quite some time. On top of that, she is severely anemic and is infested with worms. It is really a miracle that she was able to get to the clinic and find this out before she went back home. So, they have given her some super powerful anti-malarials, and we'll pray that she is able to recover quickly.

The fact that she has even survived this long with such strong malaria is quite amazing! If I was to have that bad of a case of malaria, I would be near death. Tolerance is an amazing thing.

So, please pray for her. Pray that treatment is effective. Pray that her nutrition doesn't plummet when she returns back home.

[re]conditioned...

The bad thing about deciding to move somewhere for 9 months is that it is just enough time to get used to things in one place, and forget how things worked in another.

Here I stand... in that position.

I started noticing weird things a few months back.

One of the first things I noticed was that I no longer thought the car looked or felt weird.

Everything on a car here is opposite of the way it is in America. It's quite funny to watch people who come over for just a few weeks try to get used to this. You always walk to the wrong side of the car to get in. And as was the case when my parents got in the car to leave the airport, they started screaming at me to "get on your side of the road... we're gonna die!!!!" (no lie, that was as I was pulling out of the parking lot).

But, I've found myself trying to imagine driving in a car like I did at home, and I just can't recall what that was like. It's extremely odd. It all feels so natural here now.

I also have become accustomed to riding in a car without an air conditioner. Most of our vehicles actually have A/C, but I just can't handle it! I much prefer to just roll down the window. Maybe I have become dependent on some chemical that is released from the massive pillars of exhaust that billows from other cars or something... nonetheless, when I'm riding with someone that thinks it's cool to use the A/C, it just about pushes me over the edge! Yesterday, I was wearing long-sleeves in a car and the person driving had on the A/C, and I felt like crying.

It has also happened with the little, insignificant things. For instance, the first time I tasted milk here, I nearly upchucked! It tasted horrible. So, as a result, I decided that I was only going to use milk to cook with and put in my coffee and tea. Then, a few weeks ago, I came across a box of Cocoa-Krispies... even though I knew I would be going home soon and didn't need these kinds of luxuries at this point in my life, I just had to get a box! When I took my first milk-filled bite, I was pleasantly surprised. It tasted great! Apparently, my disgust for Malawian milk has passed.

Then there's the whole issue of sleeping. Just a few months before I came here, Sara and I had a conversation about temperature while sleeping (just random conversation...not as in - while sleeping in bed). I was very adamant about the fact that I have to have the A/C down low and the fan on high while bundled up in a big fluffy down comforter. She tried explaining to me how expensive it is to keep a place freezing cold like that in the summer... but I would hear none of it... I said that I would just have to make extra money, because that was non-negotiable! Now... I sleep with a sheet and the window open... not even a fan! I'm not sure I can go back to the other way.

I'm really interested in seeing how things are going to look when I set foot back in the big USA. Will I be the one freaking out about driving down the road now? Will American milk make me want to barf?

Unexpected uncertainties...

The other thing I will have to ask you to bear with me on is the fact that aside from Sara, my mom and dad, sister and brother, and my pastor Butch and Matt Chandler from sermon downloads, I haven't heard anyone else's voice! I never really thought about this being weird... but, I just can't seem to remember what some of you sound like. I also am not around a large quantity of Americans. I am getting much more used to the UK or Australian English accent now. The other day, I was out at a cafe by myself, and at the table right next to me was this big group of people from America. I sat there for an hour or so fiddling around on my computer and eaves-dropping because it was just fascinating to listen to their accents.

So, if I'm sitting in your living room in a month and you notice my eyes glazed over and a big smirk on my face... know that it's because I think you sound funny and am trying not to bust out laughing! And I will do the same favor you when you notice my conglomeration of many different accents that don't seem to resemble Texan in the least.