Monday, August 31, 2009
Some Dancin' and some Singin'
This is us praising on our own before the conference began. It was nice and fun. You've got to watch all the way to the end to see L. dancing. It's fun!
Wednesday, August 26, 2009
August 26th
I'm very sad this morning for 2 reasons:1)I'm SICK SICK SICK and very far away from home and 2)This is our last day here. I have a lot to think about and I have a lot to pray about. I'll never stop thanking Candler and WMEI for this opportunity as well as every person who believed that I should come here. I'll be writing a lot when I get home. I feel like I could write a book. Stay tuned. Let me know what you think. Keep Africa in your prayers. Keep us in your prayers today. My love is with you all.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
August 24th-25th
Anyone who is involved with Candler School of Theology knows that it has it's issues. It is a top 3 seminary. It houses world-reknown professors. It is completely divided racially.
It's obvious, Just walk around. People are aware of it but I still think the fact that it 'appears' how it does is completely subconscious. It you ever walk into our fellowship area you'll see it first thing. In class, when people sit together, it's obvious. People grouped together outside—it's obvious. Some of the organizations we have are intentionally divisive. It's amazing and wonderful how different some things (at least) are in Africa.
In a discussion last semester in my Systematic Theology class we set out to have a forum discussion about racism, sexism, ageism, and socio-economic divisiveness. During the class we never got past racism and only one particular race was able to speak—it greatly dominated the conversation and the professor didn't see otherwise. It was the most uncomfortable class I've ever sat in on. I had never been made to feel ashamed for the history of the people who share the color skin that I do. I'm not exactly sure what the professor was trying to achieve. I was hurt.
We are in South Africa now. We've been here about 10 days. The tensions that exist at Candler were felt and were obvious on day one or even the night before we left. It was brought up yesterday by a student at an entirely inappropriate time. We were meeting with the other delegates from our country and not all the delegates were from Candler so they were subjugated to the discussion. Our professors confirmed this student's observations. We were basically chastised blatantly for being racists. We were asked (by fellow student) how exactly we thought we were going to be pastors acting how we were. We had fingers pointed in our faces. I was appalled. I was appalled that anyone in our immediate group thought that they could justify, themselves, calling anyone else out. Especially this person. Especially this person who'd not said a word to me in 10 days.
Let me explain a few things. We naturally flock to the people we care about, the people we like, or the people we are most comfortable around. Now, that spans race for me. I've been sitting and communing with Africans, whites, blacks, Asians, Brazilians, etc. all week. I jump in the van to run from the center to our house depending upon, not who is in the van, but if the van has an open front seat so that I don't get sick.
It seems, sometimes, that the people who notice the problem the most are the ones causing the problem. I don't think, for a moment, that there is a complete divisiveness just because of race. I think we are taking personality problems and disguising them as racial issues (because it's so easy to play the race card). We're in Africa. I'm highly outnumbered here (I joke!). We are each different and sometimes we just clash. Personality issues we could sit down and address but if with disguise these issues as issues of race then there's no quick way we can fix the problem. It's a shame.
I went to church with Ashley on Sunday morning. In the afternoon we were talking about our experience there. She mentioned that we were the only white folks there. I stopped and thought for a moment. There were about 150 people there that morning and not for a moment had I realized that I was the only white person in the crowd (well, Ashley too). This explains why Ashley made a child cry. LOL. The child was afraid of her! The point is, I didn't even notice. I felt right at home. I may have felt different because I was an American but for no other reason at all.
I'm proud of my parents at times--well, almost always really. I have cool parents in comparison to some. My parents raised me to be outspoken, bold, and opinionated (which sometimes clashes with like personalities). They also raised me to be color-blind. I didn't realize the white/black tensions until I was in school learning the history. My best friend in middle-school was black. We never even thought about it. I remember that my brother's best friend for years was black too. We just didn't care. We were in most ways, the same.
Now all of the sudden we're different. Now, all of the sudden, every time we have a tiff we are racist (on both sides). I just do not get it. I don't agree that this is our problem. I do believe that at times we have to remember to be intentional about being inclusive of each other—but not because of race—because we are Christians who love each other and no one should feel as thought they are left out of that.
The other night, at the center, we had a cultural night where each culture had an opportunity to present something from their culture. It was kinda like a South African talent show. I was filming the show for the Institute so I didn't get to participate. When the American group got up to 'perform' they were introduced by one in the group with a disclaimer that they were going to worship like the Black Church in America did. Well, this obviously struck a chord. I watched some of the white folks look around confused. This was supposed to be showing the Africans the American Culture—not the Black Church culture from America. Intentional—Intentional Inclusivity.
I feel like we're about to tear each other a part. I feel like those pointing fingers aren't 'self-aware.' I feel like I've lost my voice again.
The Africans are amazing. We're American—they understand that we're far away from home and go out of their way to help us acclimate. If there is anything I stand out for, it is not because I'm white, it is because I'm a woman. There's not many of them here at the conference. At the same time, no one cares that I am. Or, possibly, I stand out because I'm young. I'm kinda used to that. I remember being the youngest person in our conference to ever be certified as a lay speaker.
I am young. I am a woman. I am white. First, though, I am God's. We all are. It keeps us together. It bind us. Everything else pulls us apart. I wish that we could first hold onto the ties that bind us. They bind us to each other in Africa. They bind us together at school or in class. They bind us with Africa, Brazil, Korea, Mexico, Britain, all of us.
Let us be colorblind.
It's obvious, Just walk around. People are aware of it but I still think the fact that it 'appears' how it does is completely subconscious. It you ever walk into our fellowship area you'll see it first thing. In class, when people sit together, it's obvious. People grouped together outside—it's obvious. Some of the organizations we have are intentionally divisive. It's amazing and wonderful how different some things (at least) are in Africa.
In a discussion last semester in my Systematic Theology class we set out to have a forum discussion about racism, sexism, ageism, and socio-economic divisiveness. During the class we never got past racism and only one particular race was able to speak—it greatly dominated the conversation and the professor didn't see otherwise. It was the most uncomfortable class I've ever sat in on. I had never been made to feel ashamed for the history of the people who share the color skin that I do. I'm not exactly sure what the professor was trying to achieve. I was hurt.
We are in South Africa now. We've been here about 10 days. The tensions that exist at Candler were felt and were obvious on day one or even the night before we left. It was brought up yesterday by a student at an entirely inappropriate time. We were meeting with the other delegates from our country and not all the delegates were from Candler so they were subjugated to the discussion. Our professors confirmed this student's observations. We were basically chastised blatantly for being racists. We were asked (by fellow student) how exactly we thought we were going to be pastors acting how we were. We had fingers pointed in our faces. I was appalled. I was appalled that anyone in our immediate group thought that they could justify, themselves, calling anyone else out. Especially this person. Especially this person who'd not said a word to me in 10 days.
Let me explain a few things. We naturally flock to the people we care about, the people we like, or the people we are most comfortable around. Now, that spans race for me. I've been sitting and communing with Africans, whites, blacks, Asians, Brazilians, etc. all week. I jump in the van to run from the center to our house depending upon, not who is in the van, but if the van has an open front seat so that I don't get sick.
It seems, sometimes, that the people who notice the problem the most are the ones causing the problem. I don't think, for a moment, that there is a complete divisiveness just because of race. I think we are taking personality problems and disguising them as racial issues (because it's so easy to play the race card). We're in Africa. I'm highly outnumbered here (I joke!). We are each different and sometimes we just clash. Personality issues we could sit down and address but if with disguise these issues as issues of race then there's no quick way we can fix the problem. It's a shame.
I went to church with Ashley on Sunday morning. In the afternoon we were talking about our experience there. She mentioned that we were the only white folks there. I stopped and thought for a moment. There were about 150 people there that morning and not for a moment had I realized that I was the only white person in the crowd (well, Ashley too). This explains why Ashley made a child cry. LOL. The child was afraid of her! The point is, I didn't even notice. I felt right at home. I may have felt different because I was an American but for no other reason at all.
I'm proud of my parents at times--well, almost always really. I have cool parents in comparison to some. My parents raised me to be outspoken, bold, and opinionated (which sometimes clashes with like personalities). They also raised me to be color-blind. I didn't realize the white/black tensions until I was in school learning the history. My best friend in middle-school was black. We never even thought about it. I remember that my brother's best friend for years was black too. We just didn't care. We were in most ways, the same.
Now all of the sudden we're different. Now, all of the sudden, every time we have a tiff we are racist (on both sides). I just do not get it. I don't agree that this is our problem. I do believe that at times we have to remember to be intentional about being inclusive of each other—but not because of race—because we are Christians who love each other and no one should feel as thought they are left out of that.
The other night, at the center, we had a cultural night where each culture had an opportunity to present something from their culture. It was kinda like a South African talent show. I was filming the show for the Institute so I didn't get to participate. When the American group got up to 'perform' they were introduced by one in the group with a disclaimer that they were going to worship like the Black Church in America did. Well, this obviously struck a chord. I watched some of the white folks look around confused. This was supposed to be showing the Africans the American Culture—not the Black Church culture from America. Intentional—Intentional Inclusivity.
I feel like we're about to tear each other a part. I feel like those pointing fingers aren't 'self-aware.' I feel like I've lost my voice again.
The Africans are amazing. We're American—they understand that we're far away from home and go out of their way to help us acclimate. If there is anything I stand out for, it is not because I'm white, it is because I'm a woman. There's not many of them here at the conference. At the same time, no one cares that I am. Or, possibly, I stand out because I'm young. I'm kinda used to that. I remember being the youngest person in our conference to ever be certified as a lay speaker.
I am young. I am a woman. I am white. First, though, I am God's. We all are. It keeps us together. It bind us. Everything else pulls us apart. I wish that we could first hold onto the ties that bind us. They bind us to each other in Africa. They bind us together at school or in class. They bind us with Africa, Brazil, Korea, Mexico, Britain, all of us.
Let us be colorblind.
August 24th
As Methodists we are so methodical at times that we always want things to be the same.
I can remember where my grandparents sat in church: 3rd pew on the right side facing the pulpit at the isle end—every Sunday. Heaven forbid anyone be in that seat, or the seat behind them where the so-and-so's sat, or the seat next to them where Mr. and Mrs. you-know-who sat. Methodical. Traditional. The same. Nothing ever changed for them and so it was ok (comfortable).
Winston is lecturing right now. He spent the first bit of his lecture talking about being invitational. Invitational doens't mean standing by the door on Sunday morning saying 'hi' to those who come in—that's greeting. Being invitational is for the entire congregation—not just the greeters with their various name-tags. I can't remember Jesus being a greeter. Being invitational isn't approaching a person with the intentions of telling them about all the programs the church has to offer. There's a problem with invitation disguised as advertising—we're not trying to 'win' folks. Winston asked us when was the last time we got up from our pews and sat next to a visitor. When was the last time we helped a new person navigate our bulletin or a hymnal—the only place in the world we gather to sing and use a book to do it is church—if someone has never been to church, they may honestly not know how to navigate a hymnal. When have we taken the time to walk someone new around the building—not as a tour guide—but in hopes they'd open up to us so that they'll know it's safe and so that we will honestly know who they are? When was the last time the pastor did it? When was the last time I did it? You? We cannot wonder why the church is dying and at the same time we cannot care as much about losing the institution. Our work as pastors is not about committees, seats on pews, or advertising programs—it is about souls. It is not about what our Bishop instructs us to do, making sure all of our paper-work is turned in to our District Superintendents (Lord, don't strike me down)--it is about furthering the Kingdom. When was the last time we dropped all the other nets and evaluated our Kingdom building?
Statistically, if a person makes a genuine relationship, first thing, their very first day, with 7 others in church, they will be back. And in that we've not 'won' a member—we've not boosted our roster--we don't simply have another apportionment payer (pastors...). We have opened the door for another person in this life to come to know Christ—we have strived to fulfill our call in the Great Commission. Wow. The beautiful thing is, that it's not that hard and in the end, you have a new friend who will change your life and who's life you will change as well.
We get lost in the method, in the tradition, in the high church meetings where we listen to the choir and the preacher. We socialize with each other but our faith-voices are not heard. Things are so systematic. No one thinks about the problem with saying that we need to “advertise” that program. When did being invitational become advertising or information sharing? We cannot wonder what the problem is—it's staring us in the face!
When was the last time we focussed on helping our congregation to face outward? As a pastor we spend a lot of time taking care of the folks that are already there in hopes that we don't step on toes and they won't leave. There is an entire community outside the walls. When was the last time we invited a congregant to report on what's going on in the community? When was the last time we invited a congregant to share what God has done for them or someone else they know this week—and not just in the life of some program in the church? When was the last time we actually shared? Is this not a way of witnessing to what God has done? Is this not a way of getting away from what the CHURCH has done? It is not, not, not, not, not, not, not about the institution. It cannot be—not if we're going to fulfill our call to be missional, apostolic, people of God.
We're afraid to take risks. Jesus said, “drop your nets,” did he not? We don't take risks if it means losing someone who pays the apportionments. We don't take risks if that one, highly-influential member won't like it. We don't take risks if it involves challenging our members to be more than a social club or more than an academic establishment. We're not asking anything of Christians. When we commit our lives to Christ, though, we take up a cross. With that cross comes a responsibility. As pastors we take up a cross that involves challenging others to remain faithful. If we do none of this, as a Christian and as a pastor then we are simply being irresponsible concerning our commitment.
Are we culturally relevant? We've spent a lot of time asking that but not acting on that. This cultural relevance isn't JUST for the youth. Without cultural relevance how do we expect congregants to leave and for anything we've said to be applicable? Youth are SCREAMING for it today. We can't just feed them in their youth meetings. We want to effect them in “Big Church.” A HUGE focus of our ministry needs to be about reaching them because when we lose them, we lose the church and we lose the Kingdom.
Winston amazes me. He's passionate beyond belief and for him excuses aren't necessary or acceptable. I wonder what it would be like in our churches if excuses weren't necessary or acceptable. I wonder what church would be like if we had faith that God makes God's plans work, therefore we need not dispute every suggestion because lack of funds (volunteers, space, etc.). What would really happen if we honestly let go in our ministry trusting that it being ordained by God in it's creation will indeed happen and will indeed be beautiful. Let go. Really. Just—Let—Go.
I can remember where my grandparents sat in church: 3rd pew on the right side facing the pulpit at the isle end—every Sunday. Heaven forbid anyone be in that seat, or the seat behind them where the so-and-so's sat, or the seat next to them where Mr. and Mrs. you-know-who sat. Methodical. Traditional. The same. Nothing ever changed for them and so it was ok (comfortable).
Winston is lecturing right now. He spent the first bit of his lecture talking about being invitational. Invitational doens't mean standing by the door on Sunday morning saying 'hi' to those who come in—that's greeting. Being invitational is for the entire congregation—not just the greeters with their various name-tags. I can't remember Jesus being a greeter. Being invitational isn't approaching a person with the intentions of telling them about all the programs the church has to offer. There's a problem with invitation disguised as advertising—we're not trying to 'win' folks. Winston asked us when was the last time we got up from our pews and sat next to a visitor. When was the last time we helped a new person navigate our bulletin or a hymnal—the only place in the world we gather to sing and use a book to do it is church—if someone has never been to church, they may honestly not know how to navigate a hymnal. When have we taken the time to walk someone new around the building—not as a tour guide—but in hopes they'd open up to us so that they'll know it's safe and so that we will honestly know who they are? When was the last time the pastor did it? When was the last time I did it? You? We cannot wonder why the church is dying and at the same time we cannot care as much about losing the institution. Our work as pastors is not about committees, seats on pews, or advertising programs—it is about souls. It is not about what our Bishop instructs us to do, making sure all of our paper-work is turned in to our District Superintendents (Lord, don't strike me down)--it is about furthering the Kingdom. When was the last time we dropped all the other nets and evaluated our Kingdom building?
Statistically, if a person makes a genuine relationship, first thing, their very first day, with 7 others in church, they will be back. And in that we've not 'won' a member—we've not boosted our roster--we don't simply have another apportionment payer (pastors...). We have opened the door for another person in this life to come to know Christ—we have strived to fulfill our call in the Great Commission. Wow. The beautiful thing is, that it's not that hard and in the end, you have a new friend who will change your life and who's life you will change as well.
We get lost in the method, in the tradition, in the high church meetings where we listen to the choir and the preacher. We socialize with each other but our faith-voices are not heard. Things are so systematic. No one thinks about the problem with saying that we need to “advertise” that program. When did being invitational become advertising or information sharing? We cannot wonder what the problem is—it's staring us in the face!
When was the last time we focussed on helping our congregation to face outward? As a pastor we spend a lot of time taking care of the folks that are already there in hopes that we don't step on toes and they won't leave. There is an entire community outside the walls. When was the last time we invited a congregant to report on what's going on in the community? When was the last time we invited a congregant to share what God has done for them or someone else they know this week—and not just in the life of some program in the church? When was the last time we actually shared? Is this not a way of witnessing to what God has done? Is this not a way of getting away from what the CHURCH has done? It is not, not, not, not, not, not, not about the institution. It cannot be—not if we're going to fulfill our call to be missional, apostolic, people of God.
We're afraid to take risks. Jesus said, “drop your nets,” did he not? We don't take risks if it means losing someone who pays the apportionments. We don't take risks if that one, highly-influential member won't like it. We don't take risks if it involves challenging our members to be more than a social club or more than an academic establishment. We're not asking anything of Christians. When we commit our lives to Christ, though, we take up a cross. With that cross comes a responsibility. As pastors we take up a cross that involves challenging others to remain faithful. If we do none of this, as a Christian and as a pastor then we are simply being irresponsible concerning our commitment.
Are we culturally relevant? We've spent a lot of time asking that but not acting on that. This cultural relevance isn't JUST for the youth. Without cultural relevance how do we expect congregants to leave and for anything we've said to be applicable? Youth are SCREAMING for it today. We can't just feed them in their youth meetings. We want to effect them in “Big Church.” A HUGE focus of our ministry needs to be about reaching them because when we lose them, we lose the church and we lose the Kingdom.
Winston amazes me. He's passionate beyond belief and for him excuses aren't necessary or acceptable. I wonder what it would be like in our churches if excuses weren't necessary or acceptable. I wonder what church would be like if we had faith that God makes God's plans work, therefore we need not dispute every suggestion because lack of funds (volunteers, space, etc.). What would really happen if we honestly let go in our ministry trusting that it being ordained by God in it's creation will indeed happen and will indeed be beautiful. Let go. Really. Just—Let—Go.
Life-Changing?
I have so much on my mind tonight. I don't know if I'll ever be able to sleep. AM and AF have been asleep since before I got back tonight. I had some long discussions today. I cried today. Then, I cried again. I'm still not 100% sure where it came from but it came and as much as I want to ignore it, I can't.
J. is new on the scene. I met him a few days ago. He's a missionary of sorts. He has a beautiful wife and two gorgeous children and amazing stories. J. has been everywhere—he's met so many people—he has so many beautiful and perfect stories. They empower me. They stick dangerous ideas in my head.
It's no secret that I'm not even a pastor yet and I battle so much with my convictions and my call. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be able to proclaim open-minded, all-inclusive, Christ-love in the midst of an institution that so often doesn't see that it's doing harm. Church is such a dangerous idea sometimes. Why, if I feel this way, was I called to it?
J. wanted to start churches and was very good at it. He wanted to plant churches in multi-ethnic parts of his conference that didn't have any. His conference wouldn't back him up. It was more a part of their plan to simply grow the churches they already had (never giving those areas without a church the chance to be reached). So, J. left. He's a Free Methodist now. He explained to me tonight exactly what that was. I knew the history of the FM's but wasn't sure about their polity.
So, J. started churches. He did work all over the world. He married his wife in China. He teaches others about evangelism. He also teaches some seminary classes (including homiletics). There's been this part of me for two days now that has thought, “I could do that. I even want to do that. I even feel empowered to do that!”
So, in my last year of seminary, marriage on the horizon, Craig still has 2 years of school left, and a conference that (I hope) will be anxiously awaiting to appoint me next year, what exactly does that mean for me? For 10 years now I've been preparing for this, praying for this, battling this, studying for this, asking for guidance of others.....and here I am—wanting to traipse all over the place to reach the 2 billion that still haven't even heard his name.
I took a walk tonight before a few of us went out to dinner. I walked over by the lake that is behind the conference center as the sun was setting behind the lake. I sat on a bench—the first time I'd really been alone for days. I sang to myself, “Down to the River to Pray.” I just started crying. So many here have these amazing stories of their call experience and their conversion experience. They saw God so clearly of heard God's voice so definitively. I did at one point—but not like they did. I had no miraculous experience. I prayed to God tonight asking why I couldn't have that—why didn't I get to have a miraculous experience. I said, “Why can't you show me Jesus walking on that lake in front of me!?” Then, 2 native birds, that I'd been watching for days, flew down and landed on the lake. It was beautiful.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this. My heart is actually hurting. I don't think I can spend my life wrapped up in one committee meeting or conference after another—but I don't know. There are times I love that too. I want to be missional as Dr. Worrell has said. I want so badly to be the church in and of myself—the one that reaches people and changes lives—the one fulfilling the Great Commission. What on earth do I do?
J. is new on the scene. I met him a few days ago. He's a missionary of sorts. He has a beautiful wife and two gorgeous children and amazing stories. J. has been everywhere—he's met so many people—he has so many beautiful and perfect stories. They empower me. They stick dangerous ideas in my head.
It's no secret that I'm not even a pastor yet and I battle so much with my convictions and my call. Sometimes I feel like I'll never be able to proclaim open-minded, all-inclusive, Christ-love in the midst of an institution that so often doesn't see that it's doing harm. Church is such a dangerous idea sometimes. Why, if I feel this way, was I called to it?
J. wanted to start churches and was very good at it. He wanted to plant churches in multi-ethnic parts of his conference that didn't have any. His conference wouldn't back him up. It was more a part of their plan to simply grow the churches they already had (never giving those areas without a church the chance to be reached). So, J. left. He's a Free Methodist now. He explained to me tonight exactly what that was. I knew the history of the FM's but wasn't sure about their polity.
So, J. started churches. He did work all over the world. He married his wife in China. He teaches others about evangelism. He also teaches some seminary classes (including homiletics). There's been this part of me for two days now that has thought, “I could do that. I even want to do that. I even feel empowered to do that!”
So, in my last year of seminary, marriage on the horizon, Craig still has 2 years of school left, and a conference that (I hope) will be anxiously awaiting to appoint me next year, what exactly does that mean for me? For 10 years now I've been preparing for this, praying for this, battling this, studying for this, asking for guidance of others.....and here I am—wanting to traipse all over the place to reach the 2 billion that still haven't even heard his name.
I took a walk tonight before a few of us went out to dinner. I walked over by the lake that is behind the conference center as the sun was setting behind the lake. I sat on a bench—the first time I'd really been alone for days. I sang to myself, “Down to the River to Pray.” I just started crying. So many here have these amazing stories of their call experience and their conversion experience. They saw God so clearly of heard God's voice so definitively. I did at one point—but not like they did. I had no miraculous experience. I prayed to God tonight asking why I couldn't have that—why didn't I get to have a miraculous experience. I said, “Why can't you show me Jesus walking on that lake in front of me!?” Then, 2 native birds, that I'd been watching for days, flew down and landed on the lake. It was beautiful.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to do with this. My heart is actually hurting. I don't think I can spend my life wrapped up in one committee meeting or conference after another—but I don't know. There are times I love that too. I want to be missional as Dr. Worrell has said. I want so badly to be the church in and of myself—the one that reaches people and changes lives—the one fulfilling the Great Commission. What on earth do I do?
Saturday, August 22, 2009
Naked Frolics in the Bathroom (August 21st Evening)
I need to explain that another delegate to the conference supplied the title of this blog.
So, I have to share a Classic Sara Story. For those of you who know how my stories go and are disturbed by them either hang on for the ride or, well, skip to the next blog.
I'm going to use initials for names in this. I think you'll understand why.
This story takes a tad bit of background information. I have two fabulous roommates. AM, I've known for two years now. AF I just got to know. Both are very honest and authentic people who aren't afraid to be themselves and have fun; both are smart and vibrant people—I have grown to love, love, love them on this trip. HL is our psuedo-roommate and TA for this class. Basically, he never leaves. He's a very good listener and good intercessory for any, well, problem situations—he's become a good friend of mine this summer. We joke that we are HL's harem. He stays down the hall with Dr. D. and D. These are my good friends on this trip.
Our room has been difficult. It's very cold here right now since they're just coming out of winter. There are two panels on the wall that are supposed to heat our room. Um, not so much. At one point AM reached up to flip the 'on'-switch on (in the corner of the panel) and it broke off. So we've really only had one working panel for the majority of the trip. We've been putting water in our coffee pot to heat it up and pour in the bath-water, wash our faces, and help heat up the room a little. The bathwater is only warm for the first person in it. The lights go out every single night—I've spent a lot of time at the breaker-box (Americans and their crazy-voltage appliances).
Ok, there's the background information.
We got in last night and as usual I ran to the room to start the bath (before everyone else at the complex got the bright idea). AF had to get in and out of the bathroom before I grabbed my 5 minute bath. Well, on her way out of the bathroom, the door got jammed. We got it open and attributed it to the fact that I'd left a towel-wrap on the top of the door and she has closed the door on it. No big deal.
So, I got in the bath. It's the best part of the day because it's the only time I'm warm. Right when I got in the lights went out. This is a nightly occurrence by now so I griped for a minute, let my eyes somewhat adjust, and got on with my pitch-dark bath (fumbling around for my shampoo. I think everyone, at least once in their life, needs to try to shave their legs in the dark). When I got out, I wrapped a towel around me (even though I had clothes in the bathroom to put on) and reached for the handle (I was going to go ahead and dress in the room because it was warmer—the coffee pot was on!). Jammed. I looked up and the towel was still over the top of the door. I beat myself us for a minute having just repeated the same mistake AF had made. BUT the handle wouldn't even turn, so it obviously wasn't the towel that was the problem. I jiggled. Nothing. I pulled and pushed and kicked—nothing. The lock was stuck out (not in) so it wasn't as if the door was stuck in lock-mode. The door-knob was broken.
I yelled for my roomies, standing in the dark with a towel around me and beginning to feel the anxiety. Anyone who knows me, knows that my biggest downfall as a human being is that I absolutely cannot manage small spaces—elevators, airplanes, locked, dark bathrooms......AF ran to flip the breaker switch. AM went to get help.
The next thing I know, a very worried D. (a fantastic father figure on this trip) is on the other side of the door telling me not to worry (as I begin to cry). I said, “D! I don't have clothes on!” His response was, “Sara! I'm not gonna look!” (I cried harder). I quickly put the clothes on that were in the bathroom. By now I've really warmed up.
About 5 minutes later, I'm sitting on the toilet (no longer crying) anticipating sleeping in the bathroom. By now 3 men are on the other side of the door—Dr. D. (our professor), B. (the home owner who comes to our room at all times by now carrying a screw-driver), and D. who's still trying to calm me down a bit. I hear all sorts of jiggling, banging, scraping. Things sound intense at the door.
All the sudden I get this brilliant idea! I'll just climb out the window. I'm small enough that I can get through! So, I open the window only to find bars on the other side welded to the frame. Ugh. It's cool outside and because I'm hot from freaking out it feels good. I climbed up on the counter and sat at the open window singing “Nobody knows the trouble I've seen.” K. and L. (other girls on the trip) stick their heads out their backdoor laughing and me and asking me what's going on. I tell them I am locked in the bathroom and they geta good laugh. AF walks around to the window to keep me company. HL stuicks his head out his window next door to talk. By now B. has gone us to his house to get a drill. About 20 minutes have passed in the dark, wet, cold bathroom when Dr. D. and D., complete with Superman theme, bust through the door with a bent and broken knife in hand that has rescued me from my prison cell. I hug them both, remind Dr. D. that he has a daughter too, and ask D. if I can use his phone to call my mom whom I immediately call to tell this story. She didn't sound a bit surprised. Trouble seems to follow me and although I've not elaborated, this is not the first trouble of the trip for me.
One would hope that the story ends there. Not-so-much.
Things have calmed down. Dr. D. and D. have gone to bed. HL is hanging out with us watching Alias and snacking (we've been very hungry at night). AF grabs a quick bath. AM gets ready for hers. It's best to grab them while there's hot water. I tell AM before she goes in the bathroom, “Don't close the door!” The door still has what B. refers to as a “Buggard” door-knob. I won't venture to explain the English-equivalent of “Buggard” here.
AM starts the water and gets ready for her bath. AF, HL, and I are hanging out when all of the sudden we hear a choice expletive from the bathroom. AM has closed the “Buggard-knobbed” door. Dr. D. and D. are already in bed. We grab the knife and start at it. AM is just as frustrated but a bit more embarrassed than I was on the other side of the door. We have no luck with the door.
HL. runs to wake up Dr. D. (who by the way, actually gives us grades for this trip!) to come to, once again, jiggle the door. Dr. D., in all of 2 minutes, breaks AM out of the bathroom. He then asks us to come and get him when AM is finished with her bath so he can come back and put a breath-right nasal strip over the knob so that we CANNOT POSSIBLY get locked in the bathroom again. (The whole time I'm thinking, “I'm not so sure that's going to work.”) So, AM goes back in the bathroom to take her bath with the door open about 2 feet. HL has strict instructions to stay away from the bathroom because AM is bathing with the door open.
About 4 minutes later we hear a light tap on the door (not at all a knock). None of us can figure out if someone has actually knocked on the door. So, I go and put an ear to the door. I listen for a second and hear in a very quiet voice, “HL?” (Dr. D. is on the other side of the door again). HL traipses over, without thinking about the fact that the bathroom is right behind him, and opens the door. Dr. D. comes in and all we hear is a muffled scream from the bathroom. (remember the door is open and all of the sudden our professor and TA for the class are both standing there—AM is bathing in the bathroom). Dr. D. quickly comes further into the room. AM is still somewhat screaming from the bathroom. HL is rolling in the floor blushing. I'm screaming into a pillow with laughter and embarrassment for AM, AF is doing the same, and Dr. D. is standing in the middle of the room imploring, “I didn't see anything! I didn't see anything!”
Oh what a night.
Dr. D. and HL, later, rigged our “Buggared” doorknob so that we wouldn't lock ourselves in the bathroom again (and consequently, have to come wake him up again).
This morning has been full of embarrassed giggles all around. Anyone think we'll get an A for this class? I'm starting to doubt it! LOL!!!
Off to the market in a bit and to a fun dinner tonight with our new professor of Homiletics friend from Oklahoma. I'm sure this day will be filled with blessings and positive, with my luck, more Classic Sara Stories.
So, I have to share a Classic Sara Story. For those of you who know how my stories go and are disturbed by them either hang on for the ride or, well, skip to the next blog.
I'm going to use initials for names in this. I think you'll understand why.
This story takes a tad bit of background information. I have two fabulous roommates. AM, I've known for two years now. AF I just got to know. Both are very honest and authentic people who aren't afraid to be themselves and have fun; both are smart and vibrant people—I have grown to love, love, love them on this trip. HL is our psuedo-roommate and TA for this class. Basically, he never leaves. He's a very good listener and good intercessory for any, well, problem situations—he's become a good friend of mine this summer. We joke that we are HL's harem. He stays down the hall with Dr. D. and D. These are my good friends on this trip.
Our room has been difficult. It's very cold here right now since they're just coming out of winter. There are two panels on the wall that are supposed to heat our room. Um, not so much. At one point AM reached up to flip the 'on'-switch on (in the corner of the panel) and it broke off. So we've really only had one working panel for the majority of the trip. We've been putting water in our coffee pot to heat it up and pour in the bath-water, wash our faces, and help heat up the room a little. The bathwater is only warm for the first person in it. The lights go out every single night—I've spent a lot of time at the breaker-box (Americans and their crazy-voltage appliances).
Ok, there's the background information.
We got in last night and as usual I ran to the room to start the bath (before everyone else at the complex got the bright idea). AF had to get in and out of the bathroom before I grabbed my 5 minute bath. Well, on her way out of the bathroom, the door got jammed. We got it open and attributed it to the fact that I'd left a towel-wrap on the top of the door and she has closed the door on it. No big deal.
So, I got in the bath. It's the best part of the day because it's the only time I'm warm. Right when I got in the lights went out. This is a nightly occurrence by now so I griped for a minute, let my eyes somewhat adjust, and got on with my pitch-dark bath (fumbling around for my shampoo. I think everyone, at least once in their life, needs to try to shave their legs in the dark). When I got out, I wrapped a towel around me (even though I had clothes in the bathroom to put on) and reached for the handle (I was going to go ahead and dress in the room because it was warmer—the coffee pot was on!). Jammed. I looked up and the towel was still over the top of the door. I beat myself us for a minute having just repeated the same mistake AF had made. BUT the handle wouldn't even turn, so it obviously wasn't the towel that was the problem. I jiggled. Nothing. I pulled and pushed and kicked—nothing. The lock was stuck out (not in) so it wasn't as if the door was stuck in lock-mode. The door-knob was broken.
I yelled for my roomies, standing in the dark with a towel around me and beginning to feel the anxiety. Anyone who knows me, knows that my biggest downfall as a human being is that I absolutely cannot manage small spaces—elevators, airplanes, locked, dark bathrooms......AF ran to flip the breaker switch. AM went to get help.
The next thing I know, a very worried D. (a fantastic father figure on this trip) is on the other side of the door telling me not to worry (as I begin to cry). I said, “D! I don't have clothes on!” His response was, “Sara! I'm not gonna look!” (I cried harder). I quickly put the clothes on that were in the bathroom. By now I've really warmed up.
About 5 minutes later, I'm sitting on the toilet (no longer crying) anticipating sleeping in the bathroom. By now 3 men are on the other side of the door—Dr. D. (our professor), B. (the home owner who comes to our room at all times by now carrying a screw-driver), and D. who's still trying to calm me down a bit. I hear all sorts of jiggling, banging, scraping. Things sound intense at the door.
All the sudden I get this brilliant idea! I'll just climb out the window. I'm small enough that I can get through! So, I open the window only to find bars on the other side welded to the frame. Ugh. It's cool outside and because I'm hot from freaking out it feels good. I climbed up on the counter and sat at the open window singing “Nobody knows the trouble I've seen.” K. and L. (other girls on the trip) stick their heads out their backdoor laughing and me and asking me what's going on. I tell them I am locked in the bathroom and they geta good laugh. AF walks around to the window to keep me company. HL stuicks his head out his window next door to talk. By now B. has gone us to his house to get a drill. About 20 minutes have passed in the dark, wet, cold bathroom when Dr. D. and D., complete with Superman theme, bust through the door with a bent and broken knife in hand that has rescued me from my prison cell. I hug them both, remind Dr. D. that he has a daughter too, and ask D. if I can use his phone to call my mom whom I immediately call to tell this story. She didn't sound a bit surprised. Trouble seems to follow me and although I've not elaborated, this is not the first trouble of the trip for me.
One would hope that the story ends there. Not-so-much.
Things have calmed down. Dr. D. and D. have gone to bed. HL is hanging out with us watching Alias and snacking (we've been very hungry at night). AF grabs a quick bath. AM gets ready for hers. It's best to grab them while there's hot water. I tell AM before she goes in the bathroom, “Don't close the door!” The door still has what B. refers to as a “Buggard” door-knob. I won't venture to explain the English-equivalent of “Buggard” here.
AM starts the water and gets ready for her bath. AF, HL, and I are hanging out when all of the sudden we hear a choice expletive from the bathroom. AM has closed the “Buggard-knobbed” door. Dr. D. and D. are already in bed. We grab the knife and start at it. AM is just as frustrated but a bit more embarrassed than I was on the other side of the door. We have no luck with the door.
HL. runs to wake up Dr. D. (who by the way, actually gives us grades for this trip!) to come to, once again, jiggle the door. Dr. D., in all of 2 minutes, breaks AM out of the bathroom. He then asks us to come and get him when AM is finished with her bath so he can come back and put a breath-right nasal strip over the knob so that we CANNOT POSSIBLY get locked in the bathroom again. (The whole time I'm thinking, “I'm not so sure that's going to work.”) So, AM goes back in the bathroom to take her bath with the door open about 2 feet. HL has strict instructions to stay away from the bathroom because AM is bathing with the door open.
About 4 minutes later we hear a light tap on the door (not at all a knock). None of us can figure out if someone has actually knocked on the door. So, I go and put an ear to the door. I listen for a second and hear in a very quiet voice, “HL?” (Dr. D. is on the other side of the door again). HL traipses over, without thinking about the fact that the bathroom is right behind him, and opens the door. Dr. D. comes in and all we hear is a muffled scream from the bathroom. (remember the door is open and all of the sudden our professor and TA for the class are both standing there—AM is bathing in the bathroom). Dr. D. quickly comes further into the room. AM is still somewhat screaming from the bathroom. HL is rolling in the floor blushing. I'm screaming into a pillow with laughter and embarrassment for AM, AF is doing the same, and Dr. D. is standing in the middle of the room imploring, “I didn't see anything! I didn't see anything!”
Oh what a night.
Dr. D. and HL, later, rigged our “Buggared” doorknob so that we wouldn't lock ourselves in the bathroom again (and consequently, have to come wake him up again).
This morning has been full of embarrassed giggles all around. Anyone think we'll get an A for this class? I'm starting to doubt it! LOL!!!
Off to the market in a bit and to a fun dinner tonight with our new professor of Homiletics friend from Oklahoma. I'm sure this day will be filled with blessings and positive, with my luck, more Classic Sara Stories.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Random Photos August 21st
Just until I have time to place them appropriately here are some random pictures!
August 20th no. 2
Getting up early this morning was the hardest it's been yet. It is absolutely freezing in Johannesburg. We discovered that if you put water in the coffee maker in the room and just let it boil (replenishing the water when it runs out) after an hour of so the room gets a tiny bit warmer. This is pretty miserable.
I had to walk to the back of the conference room this morning during our first plenary because I was having trouble staying awake—not at ALL because the plenaries were boring though. Read my other August 20th blog. I knew in the back of the room I could stand up if I needed to and that was helpful. I relocated next to Haemin who always sits in the back.
I attended a Discovery Session on Reaching Youth in a Post-Modern Age. It was given by a woman from Durbin. She spoke much to the South African context so it wasn't helpful in equiping me per se but it did let me see how youth ministry is in Africa. Where in America our concerns with youth are sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll, in Africa it's sex—because of AIDS; it's crime—because often it is a learned way of life; and survival in a child-headed-house. Wow, right!? It was a good session.
We ate lunch and and headed back to the guest house for a little free time. I blogged a little during free time today. We are so, so, so tired. I fell asleep for about an hour. I'm really grateful for that time.
We headed back to the conference center around 4:30 for our Wesley Group time. Wesley Groups are like small groups. We have guided discussion in an attempt to better know each other. Today we shared our faith/call stories. It was really helpful to hear these miraculous stories! Some people have seen a light and heard the actual voice of God! Some were dead and raised again! So, so many tell stories of losing children and through that coming to faith. My story seemed so mediocre in the midst. But it wasn't. It was accepted. I am a young person. I have not lived as much life but I realized today that I indeed HAVE lived a life and that my story does not fall on deaf ears. Someone, someone out there, 'needs' your story. I was reminded that today and reminded all the many times God's grace has been right there. Wow. It was so affirming. My new friends from all over the world were so affirming—District Superintendents, Bishops, Conference Secretaries, Pastors, all of them.
We ate dinner. I ate heartily. We're fasting in the way of John Wesley tomorrow. If the last week is to tell me anything it is that I will be hungry at 6:30 when we wake up. Tomorrow is to be a very, very long day. But, also, if the last week is to tell me anything, it is that tomorrow will be wonderful too.
I had to walk to the back of the conference room this morning during our first plenary because I was having trouble staying awake—not at ALL because the plenaries were boring though. Read my other August 20th blog. I knew in the back of the room I could stand up if I needed to and that was helpful. I relocated next to Haemin who always sits in the back.
I attended a Discovery Session on Reaching Youth in a Post-Modern Age. It was given by a woman from Durbin. She spoke much to the South African context so it wasn't helpful in equiping me per se but it did let me see how youth ministry is in Africa. Where in America our concerns with youth are sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll, in Africa it's sex—because of AIDS; it's crime—because often it is a learned way of life; and survival in a child-headed-house. Wow, right!? It was a good session.
We ate lunch and and headed back to the guest house for a little free time. I blogged a little during free time today. We are so, so, so tired. I fell asleep for about an hour. I'm really grateful for that time.
We headed back to the conference center around 4:30 for our Wesley Group time. Wesley Groups are like small groups. We have guided discussion in an attempt to better know each other. Today we shared our faith/call stories. It was really helpful to hear these miraculous stories! Some people have seen a light and heard the actual voice of God! Some were dead and raised again! So, so many tell stories of losing children and through that coming to faith. My story seemed so mediocre in the midst. But it wasn't. It was accepted. I am a young person. I have not lived as much life but I realized today that I indeed HAVE lived a life and that my story does not fall on deaf ears. Someone, someone out there, 'needs' your story. I was reminded that today and reminded all the many times God's grace has been right there. Wow. It was so affirming. My new friends from all over the world were so affirming—District Superintendents, Bishops, Conference Secretaries, Pastors, all of them.
We ate dinner. I ate heartily. We're fasting in the way of John Wesley tomorrow. If the last week is to tell me anything it is that I will be hungry at 6:30 when we wake up. Tomorrow is to be a very, very long day. But, also, if the last week is to tell me anything, it is that tomorrow will be wonderful too.
August 20th no. 1
Africa August 20th
I've fallen in love with Eddie Fox. I read his book “Faith-Sharing” before I came here and already knew I loved him but for hearing him teach twice now, my love is only intensified. His words are so simple. He systematizes Evangelism. He is passionate. He is thoughtful. He's classically United Methodist, in his 70's, and still dances! I want to be that. What I want to be, to begin with though, like Eddie, is a good evangelist.
At home it seems like we make it SO VERY COMPLICATED. We sit around and gripe about funds at Annual Conference every single year. We sing the SAME OLD HYMS (there are a lot of hymns out there! I don't know half of them because we sing the same ones over and over again! LOL). We bring architects into our churches to design these great new buildings—and praise God for them! Is that it? It this church?
I'm sitting in a seminar listening to the director of the World Methodist Evangelism Institute, Dr. Winston Worrell, absolutely bring the truth. Here's what I just took in my notes. It is just about verbatim these honest and authentic words. Our meetings talk about property and finance and we argue about what color we want to paint the walls instead of talking about the one who is 'out' that needs to be reached for Christ. As we meet people, are we concerned that they are out of the kingdom and are we doing something about it!?
Check out these numbers. 2 million of the 6 million people in the world are Christian: half of them are Roman Catholic. 2 million of the 6 million people in the world have heard the Gospel and not accepted Christ as Lord. 2 million of the 6 million people in the world have NEVER HEARD THE NAME OF CHRIST. Finances. Paint colors. What to wear and where to sit on Sunday morning. 2 million people who have never even heard the name of Christ.
When did church become about what happens inside our buildings? From Dr. Worrell: Many church buildings are seen by the unchurched as private buildings. Exactly how many of those people do you think will enter the church building without being invited? When was the last time you ventured into a mosque without someone extending an invitation?
More than 77% of Christians came to Christ because of the deeds and testimonies of the people they made relationships with and came to trust. Yet, many members of mainline churches never approach a new person to share their story of faith or invite their neighbor to church. What has happened? I'm getting emotional writing it. I have such a passion for the Church that Jesus Christ established (if you can even call it church!). I have such a passion for THIS mission.
And I could easily ask, “Where is evangelism; where is mission in the church, in my church?” It would be easy for anyone to respond. “Well, the youth went on a mission trip. Well, we're involved in that program that buys those nets in Africa. Well.....well....well....” Well, Mission , Evangelism, and Church—these are not programs. These are not institutions. This 'mission,' this 'evangelism' is the body of Christ. The body moves. The body moved into the world. But we build multi-million dollar buildings that we come to to hide in and worship. I'm not even sure we're even that concerned with pulling others in anymore unless it's a concern about numbers, apportionments, or the preservation of the institution. Can we really wonder why we're dying? Negligence? Ignorance? Really, there is no excuse.
Dr. Worrell: If a church is not a mission it is not a church. It is a group of good-timers. It is a club. Think about it. Really. Take a moment. Think.
We, as Christians, not as clergy or lay people, but as Christians are called to word, deed, and sign. How is your life this morning? What kind of Christian are you. Is your life only one, or two, or three, or, well, none? Jesus was constantly missional in reaching new persons. Jesus was not afraid to be rejected—can you see your church re-thinking that? Jesus had a sincere passion for people and every person he met, other than his close inner group, was a new person.
Dr. Worrell just said this and I love it. Thank God I am not Jesus—if I was Jesus I would've said “Peter, you talk a lot so I'm going to send you to do the word.” “Bartholomew, you dont speak much so I'm going to send you to do the deeds. Judas, you like things to happen. You like stuff. I'm going to send you to do the sign.” But when I read the NT, I do not see that. Jesus sends them to a holistic ministry of word, of deed, and of sign.
Each Christisn, with 'encouragement' of the church, ought to put on a missionary lifestyle adopting the posture, the thinking, the behaviors, and the practices of a missionary. Missionary, despite popular belief, doen't mean flying 8,000 miles like I did 6 days ago to speak to a people who haven't heard. These people have heard! These people dance in the streets, LITERALLY, praising GOD, for the promises in the Gospel. Mission can happen in your home, in your workplace, on the street, with the check-out clerk at the grocery store.
Last I checked the Bible doesn't say anything about televangelists. It doesn't say that this responsibility lies on the shoulders of the pastor alone. Although, clergy, we are set apart as an example. Are we not? This is our responsibility. If the church, the body of Christ, is to fulfill it's mission, we cannot remain barracaded in the walls of our million dollar buildings in the center of abject poverty. We cannot waste time planning a program—again, that's not what evangelism is. We cannot meet in out committee so that we can plan another time to meet in our committee, so that we can table one thing after another that has nothing to do with church—not if we remember that church IS INDEED the body of Christ. We must go out. Go and make disciples of all nations. There is a nation outside of our sanctuary and 2 million people who are part of it haven't even heard the name of Christ. 2 million people who are apart of it might just be waiting to hear again.
Today I do mean to step on toes but it is truly and only because I am in love with this mission.
As Dr. Worrell says: Church as you know it is over.
I've fallen in love with Eddie Fox. I read his book “Faith-Sharing” before I came here and already knew I loved him but for hearing him teach twice now, my love is only intensified. His words are so simple. He systematizes Evangelism. He is passionate. He is thoughtful. He's classically United Methodist, in his 70's, and still dances! I want to be that. What I want to be, to begin with though, like Eddie, is a good evangelist.
At home it seems like we make it SO VERY COMPLICATED. We sit around and gripe about funds at Annual Conference every single year. We sing the SAME OLD HYMS (there are a lot of hymns out there! I don't know half of them because we sing the same ones over and over again! LOL). We bring architects into our churches to design these great new buildings—and praise God for them! Is that it? It this church?
I'm sitting in a seminar listening to the director of the World Methodist Evangelism Institute, Dr. Winston Worrell, absolutely bring the truth. Here's what I just took in my notes. It is just about verbatim these honest and authentic words. Our meetings talk about property and finance and we argue about what color we want to paint the walls instead of talking about the one who is 'out' that needs to be reached for Christ. As we meet people, are we concerned that they are out of the kingdom and are we doing something about it!?
Check out these numbers. 2 million of the 6 million people in the world are Christian: half of them are Roman Catholic. 2 million of the 6 million people in the world have heard the Gospel and not accepted Christ as Lord. 2 million of the 6 million people in the world have NEVER HEARD THE NAME OF CHRIST. Finances. Paint colors. What to wear and where to sit on Sunday morning. 2 million people who have never even heard the name of Christ.
When did church become about what happens inside our buildings? From Dr. Worrell: Many church buildings are seen by the unchurched as private buildings. Exactly how many of those people do you think will enter the church building without being invited? When was the last time you ventured into a mosque without someone extending an invitation?
More than 77% of Christians came to Christ because of the deeds and testimonies of the people they made relationships with and came to trust. Yet, many members of mainline churches never approach a new person to share their story of faith or invite their neighbor to church. What has happened? I'm getting emotional writing it. I have such a passion for the Church that Jesus Christ established (if you can even call it church!). I have such a passion for THIS mission.
And I could easily ask, “Where is evangelism; where is mission in the church, in my church?” It would be easy for anyone to respond. “Well, the youth went on a mission trip. Well, we're involved in that program that buys those nets in Africa. Well.....well....well....” Well, Mission , Evangelism, and Church—these are not programs. These are not institutions. This 'mission,' this 'evangelism' is the body of Christ. The body moves. The body moved into the world. But we build multi-million dollar buildings that we come to to hide in and worship. I'm not even sure we're even that concerned with pulling others in anymore unless it's a concern about numbers, apportionments, or the preservation of the institution. Can we really wonder why we're dying? Negligence? Ignorance? Really, there is no excuse.
Dr. Worrell: If a church is not a mission it is not a church. It is a group of good-timers. It is a club. Think about it. Really. Take a moment. Think.
We, as Christians, not as clergy or lay people, but as Christians are called to word, deed, and sign. How is your life this morning? What kind of Christian are you. Is your life only one, or two, or three, or, well, none? Jesus was constantly missional in reaching new persons. Jesus was not afraid to be rejected—can you see your church re-thinking that? Jesus had a sincere passion for people and every person he met, other than his close inner group, was a new person.
Dr. Worrell just said this and I love it. Thank God I am not Jesus—if I was Jesus I would've said “Peter, you talk a lot so I'm going to send you to do the word.” “Bartholomew, you dont speak much so I'm going to send you to do the deeds. Judas, you like things to happen. You like stuff. I'm going to send you to do the sign.” But when I read the NT, I do not see that. Jesus sends them to a holistic ministry of word, of deed, and of sign.
Each Christisn, with 'encouragement' of the church, ought to put on a missionary lifestyle adopting the posture, the thinking, the behaviors, and the practices of a missionary. Missionary, despite popular belief, doen't mean flying 8,000 miles like I did 6 days ago to speak to a people who haven't heard. These people have heard! These people dance in the streets, LITERALLY, praising GOD, for the promises in the Gospel. Mission can happen in your home, in your workplace, on the street, with the check-out clerk at the grocery store.
Last I checked the Bible doesn't say anything about televangelists. It doesn't say that this responsibility lies on the shoulders of the pastor alone. Although, clergy, we are set apart as an example. Are we not? This is our responsibility. If the church, the body of Christ, is to fulfill it's mission, we cannot remain barracaded in the walls of our million dollar buildings in the center of abject poverty. We cannot waste time planning a program—again, that's not what evangelism is. We cannot meet in out committee so that we can plan another time to meet in our committee, so that we can table one thing after another that has nothing to do with church—not if we remember that church IS INDEED the body of Christ. We must go out. Go and make disciples of all nations. There is a nation outside of our sanctuary and 2 million people who are part of it haven't even heard the name of Christ. 2 million people who are apart of it might just be waiting to hear again.
Today I do mean to step on toes but it is truly and only because I am in love with this mission.
As Dr. Worrell says: Church as you know it is over.
August 19th
So, it's day 5 in Africa. Tensions are growing a little. We're very different people (in this group) who have spent a lot of really close time together now. Me and my roomies were talking tonight about our high's and low's of the day. We got into a discussion about how there's some serious complaining going on by some in the group who actually pastor churches and are maybe supposed to be a little more mature than that. I mean, everything is an adjustment and if you're constructively complaining about something you can actually affect then it might be a different story BUT that's not what this is. Yes, it's cold—very cold tonight actually. No, you're not likely to get a warm shower. The lights MIGHT stay on in the room tonight (if you pray to the God of the Lights. LOL). The food may be something you're used to. Your session might get out early. You can possibly go do some shopping and maybe, jut maybe the traffic won't be terrible. But, look. We're in Africa. The culture is different. The climate is different. The people are different. Things are just different. WE are ALSO supposed to be different. We're set apart aren't we? We've been called and are all running the race. We. Are. Holy. Let's act like it.
August 18th
Today we visited an organization completely birthed from the heart of a woman named “Mom Carol”. Mom is a single mother of 5. Mom Carol in experiencing some orphaned children, due to the death of their parents from the HIV/AID pandemic in Africa, has single-handedly created an organization that aids Child-headed homes—counseling, feeding, and placing these children after the death of their parents. Mom Carol began with 3 children and now her organization is serving over 1750 children.
It is a horrible reality, AIDS. When I first felt called to come here it was to work with World Vision and the Aids in Africa Campaign. BUT, as life goes, and for my pure desire to not disappoint anyone and to finish school quickly, this is the first chance I've had to come. What Mom Carol does blows my mind. She began this journey out of a pure conviction in her heart to help these people, her people in her home, deal with this thing that is spreading rampantly and taking over.
I keep standing in awe of this place. She is one woman! She is one woman who had 5 children to take care of herself and stepped out on an honest limb of faith to do what the Spirit has lead her to do! Sometimes, this business that takes care of ALL these children, lives day to day waiting on its government support to come in. Mom Carol holds her breath and waits.
As we were leaving the today, we individually donated money to Mom. We had no idea that her check was running late and she couldn't put petrol in the school bus to bus the children to school the next day and by the grace of God, after we left, she did. Let me know if you feel lead to support this ministry. She already has some support from the government here and some support from the UM Church in Germany. Her story is incredible. Her relationship to these orphans is incredible and if that's not enough to move you consider this: by 2010 (next year!) 23 million children globally (but mostly in Africa) will be orphaned due to HIV/AIDS. These children have no choice and they literally have no where to go and no idea how to 'fix it.'
After we visited Mom Carol's place we visited Nelson Mandela's first home. It was a fun, quaint little place with loads of history. What an amazing man who has done such amazing things. I believe he's in his 90's now. What was most touching about going here, for me, was our bus-driver. Bong is a great guy! Driving this bus for us (toting around the needy, complaining Americans) is his livelihood. I wanted him to come visit the house with us so he came. He desperately wanted his picture taken at Mandela's house. So I took it. He has no email address and no surefire way to mail anything, but I'm going to try to get him this picture. There was also a stand where, for 10 rand (about 1.2$) he could have his picture taken and printed right there. He didn't have 10 rand, but I did. Now Bong has a photo. He got teary-eyed. I had no idea something so simple could mean so much. I think Bong and I will always be good friends—I'll always be praying for him.
The conference started tonight. Most of the delegates here are from Africa (all over—Zimbabwe, Namibia, Durbin). But some are from Brazil. Some are from the States. One is from Korea—I admire her bravery coming all this way alone.
I sat with 2 men at dinner tonight—both from Zimbabwe—Andrew and Noah. I found out that Andrew is a district superintendent here and Noah is a pastor who happens to be Andrew's brother-in-law. Noah jokes that he can twist Andrew's arm if he needs anything.
Andrew and I had a brilliant conversation about marriage tonight after he noticed I was engaged. At one point, Andrew looked at me and said, “You could fetch 50 cows for your dowry!” I giggled and then realized he wasn't joking. He wasn't joking but he also wasn't ignorant of the fact that, that's not our practices in the States. He told me I could get 50 cows because I'm beautiful, obviously smart, and I love the Lord. So Craig, I think you might owe my dad 50 cows. So dad, where exactly would you put 50 cows? :)
Andrew's marriage was arranged. When he told me I had to stifle a face of displeasure. It's not my culture but it IS his. He described it as beautiful and perfect. For me, I would feel like I have no control over my life or my heart. I would feel subjugated unless, by mere coincidence, I like the choice of my parents. This is still a very traditional cultural practice here. There are still fathers that take it so seriously that some couples are married and the woman still lives with her father because the man has not finished paying his dowry yet. I feel like I should thank my parents here. Craig and I have lived too far apart far too long already. :)
The worship tonight was wonderful. I love how people here sing. All of the music is very repetitive but the passion keeps it interesting. The songs get stronger and stronger and louder and louder. No one really sings together, they just sing. I have some video if you want to see.
The songs that aren't in English are generally in Zulu I believe. When the words are on the screen you can pick up on it pretty fast. 'Ph' makes a hard 'P' sound. 'Th' makes a hard 'T' sound. 'X' makes a 'K' sound. I'm picking it up and usually through the first verse can sing the whole song. It's really pretty amazing. The beautiful thing about not knowing the language but still singing it and still praying it is that it becomes easier to listen for the movements of the Spirit throughout. In our vulnerability we are more able to hear and feel the presence of God.
Off to bed now. We have and EARLY morning! Praise be to God for this day!
It is a horrible reality, AIDS. When I first felt called to come here it was to work with World Vision and the Aids in Africa Campaign. BUT, as life goes, and for my pure desire to not disappoint anyone and to finish school quickly, this is the first chance I've had to come. What Mom Carol does blows my mind. She began this journey out of a pure conviction in her heart to help these people, her people in her home, deal with this thing that is spreading rampantly and taking over.
I keep standing in awe of this place. She is one woman! She is one woman who had 5 children to take care of herself and stepped out on an honest limb of faith to do what the Spirit has lead her to do! Sometimes, this business that takes care of ALL these children, lives day to day waiting on its government support to come in. Mom Carol holds her breath and waits.
As we were leaving the today, we individually donated money to Mom. We had no idea that her check was running late and she couldn't put petrol in the school bus to bus the children to school the next day and by the grace of God, after we left, she did. Let me know if you feel lead to support this ministry. She already has some support from the government here and some support from the UM Church in Germany. Her story is incredible. Her relationship to these orphans is incredible and if that's not enough to move you consider this: by 2010 (next year!) 23 million children globally (but mostly in Africa) will be orphaned due to HIV/AIDS. These children have no choice and they literally have no where to go and no idea how to 'fix it.'
After we visited Mom Carol's place we visited Nelson Mandela's first home. It was a fun, quaint little place with loads of history. What an amazing man who has done such amazing things. I believe he's in his 90's now. What was most touching about going here, for me, was our bus-driver. Bong is a great guy! Driving this bus for us (toting around the needy, complaining Americans) is his livelihood. I wanted him to come visit the house with us so he came. He desperately wanted his picture taken at Mandela's house. So I took it. He has no email address and no surefire way to mail anything, but I'm going to try to get him this picture. There was also a stand where, for 10 rand (about 1.2$) he could have his picture taken and printed right there. He didn't have 10 rand, but I did. Now Bong has a photo. He got teary-eyed. I had no idea something so simple could mean so much. I think Bong and I will always be good friends—I'll always be praying for him.
The conference started tonight. Most of the delegates here are from Africa (all over—Zimbabwe, Namibia, Durbin). But some are from Brazil. Some are from the States. One is from Korea—I admire her bravery coming all this way alone.
I sat with 2 men at dinner tonight—both from Zimbabwe—Andrew and Noah. I found out that Andrew is a district superintendent here and Noah is a pastor who happens to be Andrew's brother-in-law. Noah jokes that he can twist Andrew's arm if he needs anything.
Andrew and I had a brilliant conversation about marriage tonight after he noticed I was engaged. At one point, Andrew looked at me and said, “You could fetch 50 cows for your dowry!” I giggled and then realized he wasn't joking. He wasn't joking but he also wasn't ignorant of the fact that, that's not our practices in the States. He told me I could get 50 cows because I'm beautiful, obviously smart, and I love the Lord. So Craig, I think you might owe my dad 50 cows. So dad, where exactly would you put 50 cows? :)
Andrew's marriage was arranged. When he told me I had to stifle a face of displeasure. It's not my culture but it IS his. He described it as beautiful and perfect. For me, I would feel like I have no control over my life or my heart. I would feel subjugated unless, by mere coincidence, I like the choice of my parents. This is still a very traditional cultural practice here. There are still fathers that take it so seriously that some couples are married and the woman still lives with her father because the man has not finished paying his dowry yet. I feel like I should thank my parents here. Craig and I have lived too far apart far too long already. :)
The worship tonight was wonderful. I love how people here sing. All of the music is very repetitive but the passion keeps it interesting. The songs get stronger and stronger and louder and louder. No one really sings together, they just sing. I have some video if you want to see.
The songs that aren't in English are generally in Zulu I believe. When the words are on the screen you can pick up on it pretty fast. 'Ph' makes a hard 'P' sound. 'Th' makes a hard 'T' sound. 'X' makes a 'K' sound. I'm picking it up and usually through the first verse can sing the whole song. It's really pretty amazing. The beautiful thing about not knowing the language but still singing it and still praying it is that it becomes easier to listen for the movements of the Spirit throughout. In our vulnerability we are more able to hear and feel the presence of God.
Off to bed now. We have and EARLY morning! Praise be to God for this day!
August 16th
We got up this morning. It was freeeeeezing in our room. There's a small panel on the wall that's supposed to heat up. Well, if you're 3 inches from it, it's warm. We also had no hot water and it was in the 30's last night. Getting ready for church was tough.
We drove from the Guest House where we're staying about 10 minutes down the road to Ensemi (the UM Conference Center) for breakfast. After that we split into 2 groups and headed to 2 different churches. My church was Benoni East UMC (in Benoni). It is a very diverse congregation. Before we got in the door I was hugged tightly by no less than a dozen complete strangers (it was so nice). Half of these strangers, I noticed, were British. The visiting pastor of the day was also British.
The service was what one would best describe as traditionally Methodist. We sang “Magesty.” We also sang some songs in two different Africa languages—I know that one was Zulu but I can't remember the other. I'll try and find out what it was so I can let you know. I learned that there are 11 different national languages in Africa! Our van driver, Bong, could speak them all!
During worship we prayed, we lifted concerns and celebrations, we had 2 testimonies (both given by my group) and a very good Sermon on what it means when we say God. The Pastor actually comments on American TV shows that say “Oh my God!” all the time. I couldn't help but think of just how often I say “OMG!” Oops! We held hands at the end of worship and prayed. I'm not sure I've ever felt so hospitably embraced by a congregation.
After the service we were invite for “tea and cakes” down the hallway where we got to spend time chatting with some from the congregation. They were all very gracious!
We came back to Ensemi for lunch, changed clothes, and ventured out to “change money.” It's so funny! The bus drivers took us to a CASINO to change out money. Shhhhh! Don't tell!! LOL. We changed out money and quickly left.
Next they took us to a flea market where I snagged suvineers for the whole family and soon-to-be hubby. We also found correct plug adaptors for the walls since no one hit the nail on the head when it came to that. Ugh!
We drove from the Guest House where we're staying about 10 minutes down the road to Ensemi (the UM Conference Center) for breakfast. After that we split into 2 groups and headed to 2 different churches. My church was Benoni East UMC (in Benoni). It is a very diverse congregation. Before we got in the door I was hugged tightly by no less than a dozen complete strangers (it was so nice). Half of these strangers, I noticed, were British. The visiting pastor of the day was also British.
The service was what one would best describe as traditionally Methodist. We sang “Magesty.” We also sang some songs in two different Africa languages—I know that one was Zulu but I can't remember the other. I'll try and find out what it was so I can let you know. I learned that there are 11 different national languages in Africa! Our van driver, Bong, could speak them all!
During worship we prayed, we lifted concerns and celebrations, we had 2 testimonies (both given by my group) and a very good Sermon on what it means when we say God. The Pastor actually comments on American TV shows that say “Oh my God!” all the time. I couldn't help but think of just how often I say “OMG!” Oops! We held hands at the end of worship and prayed. I'm not sure I've ever felt so hospitably embraced by a congregation.
After the service we were invite for “tea and cakes” down the hallway where we got to spend time chatting with some from the congregation. They were all very gracious!
We came back to Ensemi for lunch, changed clothes, and ventured out to “change money.” It's so funny! The bus drivers took us to a CASINO to change out money. Shhhhh! Don't tell!! LOL. We changed out money and quickly left.
Next they took us to a flea market where I snagged suvineers for the whole family and soon-to-be hubby. We also found correct plug adaptors for the walls since no one hit the nail on the head when it came to that. Ugh!
August 15th: From the Plane
We've been on the airplane for 13 hours. I'd say that the first 9 or 10 could be described at “lightly turbulent.” NOT COOL. Yes, I cried when we took off. Yes, I talked to Craig until the VERY LAST SECOND and hysterically txted my parents. No, I didn't get a lick of sleep on the plane. I tossed and turned—wishing I'd brought my own pillow. The higher we got, the colder it got. I maybe slept 2 hours at 10 minute intervals. The flight has finally evened out (no more turbulence). I made myself get up and walk around 3 times—went to the bathroom twice—gross. All that being said, though, I'm watching a movie right now, waiting on my flight attendant to bring me some pizza, and looking at Namibia out my window. There it is. It is beautiful. I can make out things that look like craters and roads. I see rivers and a few scattered hills. I've been waiting years to see this. In about an hour we'll be flying over Botswana. Then we'll land (ugh, I hope it's not too rough) in Johannesburg. I'm sure the airport will be crazy. I think there will be locals there to pick us up and take us to Enseme—the UM retreat center where we're staying. The name means a place of grace. When I told my father that yesterday, or, well, the day before (I already can't keep my days straight) he said, “Isn't that everywhere?” I'm not sure that everywhere is a place of grace for everyone but I can't wait to see what this one is like. So, in about 2.5 hours we'll be on the ground in Africa and the adventure begins. Let's hope I can find my luggage and I desperately need a toothbrush (since I forgot mine). Here we go.
Friday, August 14, 2009
That GREAT Commission: no. 6
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Well, here it is. My fingers absolutely tremble when I type--I don't know if it's because I'm excited or because I'm terrified and if it's because I'm excited, what am I excited for? If it's because I'm terrified, what scares me so much? I think it's both. No, I don't think, I know. Here it is. I've been praying for 6 months. I've been praying for longer than that. For years I've wanted to go to Africa. For years, it has felt like a burden, a weight, on my heart. I already know that this won't be the only time I go--don't ask me 'how' I know, but I do.
We had a meeting last night at the Center for Lifelong Learning building on the West Briarcliff Campus at school. This building also houses the headquarters for the World Methodist Evangelism Institute. We spent 45 minutes just welcoming each other and re-introducing ourselves. It was good to look around and see the faces of the people I'll be spending the next 2 weeks with. It was refreshing to hear their stories and hear their hopes. Some people have done things like this before already. We're taking a doctor with us--Dr. Hankey--who's been on dozens of these trips already. I hope to spend some time hearing about his experiences. There are several students with us who were blessed to go to the Bahamas for a trip like this back in January I believe--they don't seem nervous. I am.
Last night I discovered that I don't have a voice like I thought I did. If I sit down and try to practically map out how I might share my story, my faith, with a complete stranger I can't do it. I get clammy. I'm afraid or intimidated. Wow. And this is what I'm going to do. How on earth have I gotten this far without realizing that I am terrified, actually, about honest evangelism? Maybe that IS why I'm going. Maybe God is trying to help me find my voice. I can actually hear the voices of some of my friends laughing right now (Karen, Fran, Joey, Nathan....). Sara? Afraid to speak? Sara? Without words to say? Not SARA!! I'm laughing now too. I am not afraid to speak my mind. I never have been. But now we are speaking our hearts. We are speaking our souls. We are leaving this place to go speak a very part of our being. In that we are vulnerable. We let people see our (figurative) naked selves. Last night I discovered that I can either embrace that vulnerability and in turn allow myself to be lead by the Spirit (that ethereal being we don't talk about much unless it is the season of Pentecost) or I can cower in it, fight it, lose to it.
I cannot leave today assuming that I am coming from the greatest and most blessed place on this earth to venture into a world of people who aren't as smart as me or are less-fortunate. I have to leave today without my boxing gloves on. I cannot fight for this status that has become so much of the culture of the American society. The only status that I have to fight for is that I am a child of God. This is at the forefront of my mind.
I pray to find my voice. I won't be preaching myself in Africa--I was too afraid to say that I would. I need a voice. I need a voice appropriate for "there". I have a story--one that I've always thought boring. Winston, last night, told us to share our story--that even if we don't feel that it's that relevant that SOMEONE 'needs' our story. Why else would I be there? Why else would God have made this so possible for me? Someone needs to hear MY story. Someone needs to hear the Gospel story. I hope and pray desperately that God helps me find that person and that when the time comes I am made qualified, as a child of God, with confidence and boldness, meekness and humility, in that moment to fulfill my call as a Christian, as a woman, as a child of God--that GREAT Commission.
Saturday, August 8, 2009
Getting Ready and Slowing Down--no. 5
I just got off the phone with L.E. who's going to Africa with me. I am SO glad I called her. It was good to talk about what we're doing to get ready, what our weeks look like as we prepare to go, and apprehensions we have. It was good to share those things with someone else before we go. Now I have someone to pray for, someone who's praying for me, and know that I'm not alone.
I work 30 hours this week--including the day we leave. The carpet cleaners are supposed to be coming on Monday which means I need to move furniture everywhere. I have GOT to pack. Things are so nutty. Meanwhile I have nerves about flying. I'm worried about Eden. My parents are coming and I need to clean before they get here. I need to work on assignments before we head out.
I wish right now I had the time to just sit back and think about where we're going--to pray for the leadership and the people we'll experience--to feel the calming presence of the One that' made it all possible. I think, for tonight, even though I have so much to do to get ready, that I'll spend some time just doing that instead. Other things will take care of themselves.
I work 30 hours this week--including the day we leave. The carpet cleaners are supposed to be coming on Monday which means I need to move furniture everywhere. I have GOT to pack. Things are so nutty. Meanwhile I have nerves about flying. I'm worried about Eden. My parents are coming and I need to clean before they get here. I need to work on assignments before we head out.
I wish right now I had the time to just sit back and think about where we're going--to pray for the leadership and the people we'll experience--to feel the calming presence of the One that' made it all possible. I think, for tonight, even though I have so much to do to get ready, that I'll spend some time just doing that instead. Other things will take care of themselves.
Thursday, August 6, 2009
Africa no. 4--My Memaw's Prayer
My father's mother is a saint. She is the boldest and most faithful woman I know. I think we could talk about God sunrise to sunset 8 days a week if I were there. :) She sent me a card a week ago with a prayer in it for our trip to Africa. It was so profound to me that it's just 'stuck' with me all week. I wanted to write it here so that I can read it everyday that I'm there and let it act as my "Mission Statement"--allow it to be the center and purpose of why I am there. Here it is. Thank you Memaw and I love you very much.
Sara, This is my prayer for you as you leave for Africa-
Lord, I pray that Sara will make her personality subservient to your Holy Impersonality and that in doing so all those whom she will meet will only see you in her and that they may feel your peace, your presence, and your power within their own hearts. Because you are teaching us that our intelligence--strength--power and all that is given to us is yours only and that it is to be manifested in and through us. You, Father, are living your will in and through us all--and as we surrender everything, especially self, then we will know: "All I have is yours." All Light--Love--Joy--Peace. As we see through your eyes, we hear through your ears and learn to speak your truth, then we will see those attributes of your presence (and she underlined this) in everyone we meet. Then shall we know that we are now living in the Kingdom of God. May Christ be formed in us. Amen. (Philippians 2:13).
At the end my grandfather--my BigDaddy--reminds us also to "Have some fun!" And we will. Thank you BigDaddy! I love you too!
I say with so much assurance and with joy in this prayer, thanks be to God!
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
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