Thoughts from Discipleship Group

In Donald Miller’s book Blue Like Jazz, there is a scene where Donald and several of his friends did something odd on their college campus in Seattle. The set up a “Christiany” booth on campus during a night known for debauchery and drunkenness. When other students heard about their project they thought it was the typical Christian “evangetable” where you can pick up a tract and some self-righteous judgement all in one stop, but their project was different. At their booth, someone from outside would come in and, instead of receiving judgement or condemnation inside, they would receive an apology from a Christian. An apology from someone they didn’t know for something that person didn’t do, but it was an apology for all the garbage (I have no other word for it) that Christians do while wearing the banner of Christ. I don’t mean just the crusades and witch hunts, but the present day garbage, and we have a lot of it. 

Something happened yesterday in my regular old school day that reminded me of this scene in Blue Like Jazz. Yesterday I met with my discipleship group which now consists of two girls who, quote frankly, don’t want to be discipled. They don’t call themselves Christians and don’t want anything to do with Christianity. They go to QCS, they sit in chapel, they do their bible class homework, but they don’t want more “Jesus” than they already have to sit through. 

And yesterday, I found out why.

Christians.

That word is so amorphous. So undefined. So blurry. 

When asked to describe what a Christian is, these girls gave responses like this….

Judgmental.

Two-faced.

Not fun.

One way at chapel, another behind your back.

Judgmental.

Can’t watch certain movies or listen to certain music.

Self-Righteous.

Boring.

Judgmental.

“I want to be closer to God, but I don’t want to be a Christian.”

What do you do with a statement like that? And I can’t completely disagree with her. When I think about some things Christians (myself included) do, some thing in the name of Jesus, I don’t want any part of that. I don’t mean the big things either, I mean the small and seemingly insignificant actions. 

The gossip and language.

The judgmental comments.

The self-righteous piety.

I read a post someone had shared on Facebook that communicated this sort of thing very well. Here it is. 

How can we as Christians reverse these ideas and these stereotypes of Christianity? I think we do that by just changing the direction we point our fingers. For so long we’ve pointed our fingers at others; the murderer, the druggie, the whore, the thief. I don’t think we just switch the direction and point them back at us; the gossip, the prideful, the pious, the judgmental. I think we point to Christ. We are all messed up beyond all reason. We are all so full of junk it’s unbearable. But that’s why he came. 

“It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners.” Mark 2:17

We are all sick. We are all sinners. We all need him. And I think that’s what I want my students to realize. 

As our time in discipleship group closed I challenged the girls this week, everywhere they heard about Jesus, to not shut down and close their ears. Instead, I asked them to shut out every Christian they had ever known before, good or bad. I asked them to focus on Christ, not Christians. We’ll see. 

“I like you Christ. I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

I pray today I can be more like Christ. 

America Sick

There are very few mornings where I wake up and long for America. I love my country and, like Lee Greenwood, I am proud to be an American, but it’s rare that I miss it. I miss my family and my friends. I miss chick-fil-a and driving a car, but overall, I don’t really miss living in the states too often. I don’t miss the hurried business that permeates everything. I don’t miss the entitlement and materialism that sits like a fog over Dallas. I don’t miss the television and commercials and stuff. 

However, for the last few days I have been really missing some of the American “comforts” that I took for granted. Never wondering if you will have electricity that night. Being able to walk out to a car and go wherever you want. Being able to flush a toilet...any toilet. Eating something without washing it several times. 

Normally these things don’t bother me too much. I’ve gotten used to the “different” style of life here (I don’t want to use the word “difficult” because my life is candy, puppies, and rainbows compared to most of the world). But this past week I’ve really missed the normalcy and predictability that comes with life in America. 

Last Friday I was walking with some friends on the street and fell and got a pretty gross scrape on my leg. No big deal really, I fall often. The scrape healed within the week, but I noticed a few days ago I had about 25-30 bumps on my leg that looked like bug bites and itched like crazy. We first thought it was bed bugs and that grossed me out completely. I wanted to throw away my mattress, sheets, blanket, and pillow all at once and just sleep on the floor. This day was after yet another night of no electricity in our apartment (there have been more nights without electricity than with this semester) which means lots of street noise and lots of bugs and not a lot of sleep.  

I didn’t completely freak out and throw all of my stuff into a fire to get rid of the bugs. After internet research and help from my friend Jill we determined it was an infection sort of like staph. I am now taking antibiotics and it is getting better, but the idea that there were bedbugs (along with mice, cockroaches, spiders, and the ever-present mosquitoes) freaked me out….a lot. 

Saying all this makes me really feel like a spoiled brat, but what else is a blog for but sharing your thoughts and feelings with the world. 

One Year Later

One year ago today I was on a plane that left Dallas, took a pit stop in Fort Lauderdale, and finally stopped in Port-au-Prince, Haiti. I was anxious over what I was leaving behind. As a first year teacher in the middle of the crazy season of preparing my students to take the dreaded state tests, I wasn’t sure if leaving for a week was such a good idea. I had a great sub and, thankfully, was able to leave that part of my world behind for the next 9 days. Good thing too because I had no idea what God had in store for me. 

At the Port-au-Prince airport, when you land, you deplane onto the tarmac (or whatever that is called) and then get on a shuttle to go to the building that houses customs and immigration and baggage claim. When I stepped out of the plane I felt the hot, steamy Caribbean air and saw the mountains that lie behind the airport. It was weird, but in that moment I knew that this short week in Haiti would not be my only experience in this country. I didn’t know how or in what way, but somehow Haiti would be a part of my life in some form or fashion. That may seem weird if you have never experienced it, but its the way I felt. But even then, knowing I would somehow be connected to Haiti, I didn’t know the specific how. Looking back a year from now, I remember those feelings. The excitement of the possibility of being involved here coupled with the uncertainty of knowing how. 

But here is is, one year later and I know I am right where I need to be. I’ve said that probably 754 times, but its so true. Yesterday I met my friend from Dallas at the airport here in Haiti. She is co-leading a team from Watermark (my church in Dallas) for a week here, partnering with Mission of Hope. It was weird to think back to me being in that place this time last year. I wonder what this week will bring for their team. What they think about Haiti and what God is going to do in their hearts this week. I am meeting another group from that same church this Thursday evening and riding with them out to Mission of Hope to spend Thursday night and Friday night. How fitting that my first visit out there since my first trip to Haiti falls right around the one-year later mark. 

I’m filled with joy when I think about what God has done in my heart and in my life in the last 365 days. One lesson of many that I have learned is to really trust God with his plan for me. He knows best, I just need to get out of the way most times. 

The Power of Hello

Ok, let’s just get this out there now. I am white. I am also American; and I’m not just “born in America” American, I am born, bred, raised (trained) American. When I walk I either look down or look people straight in the eye. I don’t make a conscious effort to smile at someone when I walk by. It’s not that I am mad or closed off or trying to appear tough, I just usually go about my business and don’t think about the people I’m passing by. 

When I go to the grocery store in America I will sometimes say “Hi” to the person at the checkout line, and I will always return the obligatory “How are you?” with the equally obligatory response, “Fine, thanks. And you?” But that response comes more out of 24 years of training than it does from a deep seated place of caring about that person. I wouldn’t describe myself as cold or rude, and I don’t think those that know me would either, I’m just American. Busy, in a hurry, American.

Now, I’m an American living in Haiti and I’ve learned some valuable lessons. Don’t drink the water. Always wash your vegetables twice. Ants can infiltrate the microwave to eat your food. But I think the most important lesson I have learned is the power of hello, or bonjou if you will. This is a lesson I didn’t learn until mid-November, 3 1/2 months after I had arrived. In our Creole lessons our instructor doesn’t just teach us Creole, he also teaches us about the nuances of Haitian culture. One of the things he told us was the importance of saying hello and greeting people before you ever ask for anything. It is an extreme sign of rudeness to just walk up and ask for what you want without saying “hello” first. Not “how are you,” you must say “hello.” Simple right? And I bet you’re judging me for a)thinking it took me three and a half months to figure this out and b) for being a heartless person who never says hello. However, before you judge me, think about how many times you are at a restaurant or a store and you just ask for what you want without a smile and a “hello.” Now think about having to buy that thing or order that item in a different language. Trying to translate what you want in English into Creole all while counting out your money and converting the money from gourdes to dollars in your head to see how much it costs! It is easy to forget the “hello.”

This revelation has done so much to change my outlook. Before I walked down the street and got hard, cold stares and felt intimidated and unwelcome. I felt like the marchans (ladies selling produce on the sidewalks) were annoyed with me purchasing items from them. Now, as I walk down the street I throw a small smile and a bonjou (or bonswa, depending on the time of day. Bonswa = good afternoon/evening, bonjou = good morning) and without fail I receive in return a warm, friendly smile and a similar greeting. Where I once felt unwelcome, I now feel like I belong in a culture I don’t quite fully understand and one that doesn’t fully know what to do with me. But, with a little smile and a small greeting, I feel more at home. 

It’s amazing the power one can find in “hello.”

Obligatory “Long-Term “Missionary” posting about Short Term Missions” Post

First, notice the word missionary in quotations. I don’t know the full meaning of this word or what makes you qualified to own this title. I typically don’t refer to myself as a missionary; not because I think it is a negative thing or has any negative connotations, I just don’t know what I think a missionary is or what kind of person typifies that word. I’m a teacher at a Christian school. I teach middle school history, technology, and P.E. I just happen to do so in a different country. Anyway, thats not what this post is about. 

With a shortage of movie theaters, restaurants, coffee shops, bowling alleys, and cars to get to those kind of places, the group of teachers and friends I roll with (yeah, roll with) end up spending quite a few evenings sitting around talking. Every once in a while the topic will turn to short term missions. Most of us here are the product of a short-term mission trip; we wouldn’t be at this school if we hadn’t visited Haiti on a trip, fallen in love with the country, and felt called to return. But, just because our position here is the result of a short-term trip, we aren’t at all times in full, gung-ho favor of them. 

I’m not going to post my exact thoughts in this blog, mostly because I don’t really know what they are. I am still desperately searching literature, minds of smarter people, and the scriptures to try and figure out where I stand (not that it really matters all that much except that I really want to figure out what I think and feel about them). In this post I just wanted to share a blog I had found in my search that has helped me begin to form my thoughts. 

The title of the blog is “jamietheveryworstmissionary”. How can you not find gold in a blog with that title? A while back she wrote a satirical, and rather snarky, story about a fictional mission trip of people from “super duper rich church” to a middle class neighborhood. The post generated a lot of slap fighting arguments discussion that actually led to her writing a few follow-up posts which I think are really great. 

I just wanted to share this for anyone reading who is thinking about short-term missions, is going or has been on a short term mission trip, or who is bored at work and needs more to read to pass the time. 

In the link below is the initial snarky post (“Are we calling this a “win-win”?) and the 4 follow up posts addressing specific things raised in the discussion. 

http://www.theveryworstmissionary.com/2011/12/whole-can-of-worms-at-glance.html