Back in March, I wrote about standing back a bit in your cross-cultural ministry, to ensure the locals get a chance to do the job. I'd like to add some caveats to that approach. First is that I've been told that, in a relationship-based culture like this, I need to throw myself into church in the first few years. I have to get to know people super-well and go through the highs and lows of life with them if they're ever to really listen to what I have to say.
Later on though, the ideal is still to back off a bit and begin to support wider church structures, rather than fill them yourself. I can see a couple of potential problems with this. The first is that providing an example yourself may in some cultures be the best way of teaching someone how to do a thing. [I think this may have been what Fiona H had in mind in the comments section of my earlier post.] I don't know enough about Chilean culture to know if that is so. The second is about the scope of ministry. The ideal is to become something of a parachurch, supporting a variety of churches at the one time. But perhaps it could work better to invest intensively in a small group of individuals, and when they are ready to stand on their own, to move onto another group. Again, that's one of those things I'm yet to learn.
Monday, May 21, 2012
A phonecall
Iglesia Ñuñoa is starting this lovely thing where each person gets allocated someone else in the church. They ring each other once a week to see how they're going and to pray or help with anything their brother or sister needs. A brilliant way to help a large group of people get to know one another and get involved in each others' lives, especially when those lives are super-busy ones. I'll let you know how it goes.
What I'm doing here Take Three
The sort of thing I talked about in my last post is utterly foreign to most women here. So I've decided to add a bit to my why-I'm-here template to really highlight the relationship aspect and its groundedness in the mighty and living Lord Jesus (equally unknown). It's too long of course.
I think that many women feel that God is distant and they don't know him... Because of this I want to help women understand what the Bible says about all that Jesus did and continues to do for his beloved children to bring them close to God. [Creo que muchas mujeres sienten que Dios es lejano y no lo conocen... Por eso quiero ayudar a las mujeres a entender lo que la Biblia dice acerca de todos que Jesús hizo y sigue haciendo por sus hijos amados que los acercan a Dios.]
Personal Relationship
As Mikey so helpfully points out, relationship with God isn't everything when you're talking about your faith - you need to first explain why it is you're able to enjoy this intimacy. Okay I've got that, but what do I say next? I really do feel very close to God but how do I describe it in words? I imagine it's a bit like trying to explain your relationship with your spouse - they are everything, they are these concrete things, and they're not. The problem with having a problem with this is that I'm left talking rationally about 'Christianity' or 'my beliefs', which isn't wrong but is inadequate. So here's what my relationship with God means for me right now...
I pray sincerely whenever I need to and I know he hears me and cares.
I'm always thankful for who he is and everything he gives me.
I'm aware that he's watching over me and that he's in charge of the details of my life. I see him ordering small things about for my sake and answering my prayers, but I know this is true even when I can't see concrete examples of his care.
I feel him there with me and I know that, whatever the situation, I'm his daughter.
I work hard to follow him throughout the day and to think his thoughts after him.
As I follow him more closely, lifes works better and I enjoy more peace, satisfaction and joy. I guess I enjoy him more, but I don't really think of it that way - though I do think he's amazing.
I can tell he's changing my heart more and more, so that good things that were once hard for me come much more easy now.
I pray sincerely whenever I need to and I know he hears me and cares.
I'm always thankful for who he is and everything he gives me.
I'm aware that he's watching over me and that he's in charge of the details of my life. I see him ordering small things about for my sake and answering my prayers, but I know this is true even when I can't see concrete examples of his care.
I feel him there with me and I know that, whatever the situation, I'm his daughter.
I work hard to follow him throughout the day and to think his thoughts after him.
As I follow him more closely, lifes works better and I enjoy more peace, satisfaction and joy. I guess I enjoy him more, but I don't really think of it that way - though I do think he's amazing.
I can tell he's changing my heart more and more, so that good things that were once hard for me come much more easy now.
Monday, May 14, 2012
Political involvement
Early this year I spent a bit of time thinking through the mission of the church. Today I turned to Christian involvement in politics, with much help from my fellow-blogger, Nathan (and not a little help from Mark too - see the gigantic comment section beneath this post). I've taken on (and will reproduce) some of what Nathan argues, but not all.
Christians in places like Australia or Chile should get involved in the issues of the day, firstly because we live in a democracy. Our minority status doesn't preclude us from having the right to have our say. And we shouldn't preempt the political process, standing back so that the majority view might come to pass. It's not our job, but the politicians' to represent fairly the views of the electorate. And perhaps the rightness and goodness of God's ways will shine through and be taken up, even though Christians are small in number. But if this doesn't happen, it's not the end of the world. Now is not the age for a perfect society; that time is still to come - at the end of the world.
The second reason we should get our hands dirty is because following God's ways helps societies to flourish. I realise that in a country of people untouched by the Gospel, the Christian ideal will always be imperfectly legislated and lived out, but I still think that the little good that may result is nonetheless good and worth pursuing.
But we need to be very careful about how we come across. Because we love the people around us, we want to see them flourishing not only in this life but in the next as well, so we need to make sure that our political involvement doesn't obscure the path to salvation and true, abundant, eternal life. Our society already thinks that Christian = a good person (/hypocrite) who believes in God. We don't want our campaigning to imply that Christianity is a call for all people to be good, when it is rather the offer of forgiveness and goodness to people who, by themselves, cannot be good.
There are perhaps three ways to avoid this. Firstly, make decisions about right and wrong in accordance with your faith, but don't argue for it in these terms. Stick to humanism, experience, statistics, psychology... Arguing like this will keep you from confusing Christianity with morality. And, because the Christian way is the way of Truth and Goodness, there's every chance that some of this will have seeped through into these manmade disciplines.
Secondly, if your main gig is issues of the day, then be wary of branding yourself 'Christian' or even organising your lobbying in this way. Better for Christians to act as private citizens or to get involved in existing parties, than for the Gospel message to be muddled up with morality.
... Unless, thirdly, you take special care to link issues back to the Gospel. This way, even if you achieve nothing in the present political sphere, people will have heard about the coming of a perfect, heavenly society. And, who knows, because the Gospel speaks truely about and into the human condition, people may feel the weight of your argument even if they don't accept your religion. If a group of Christians were to consistently take this approach, then being branded 'Christian' would be a wonderful thing.
The other thing to keep a weather eye on in any political involvement is religious freedom - of any religion, not Christianity alone (and even sometimes of atheism too). This is why I viewed the introduction of humanist ethics classes in NSW schools as a good thing - so long as it was only one option on offer, along with classes from Christians, Muslims, Buddists and whoever. I don't think we should be fighting for unique Christian privileges in today's society, but rather for freedom of all religions - particularly in the face of supposed 'neutral' secularism. And, if we need to give ground on some moral issue for the sake of religious freedom, then this is what we must do.
This is all well and good - but what does it mean for me? Well it's going to mean different things for different people, depending on the gifts and opportunities that God has given us. Some people have a special interest in and facility for politics. Others will simply be called to vote thoughtfully and speak Christianly about the day's news in the work staffroom. But me? Well all this has made me see that it's good and right that I focus my energies on my Christian ministry, which is the more important thing. But, particularly given the intelligence God has given me, it would also be good for me to have some involvement in the political sphere - especially if I think an issue is unusually good for highlighting the Gospel (say, some issue of justice, vengeance, or grace); if I think the non-Christian path will be especially damaging for society; if there is injustice involved (eg corruption or active abuse of the vulnerable); or if it is a case of religious freedom. Which, in Australia at least, brings me back to abortion. Only this time round I know it's okay not to give it my all, and I have some clear strategies for action. I do need to get better at working out non-religious arguments and at linking social issues back to the Gospel. I need to be nutting these things out as issues crop up, in anticipation of conversations that might come my way. And, who knows, one day I may even do something crazy like write a Letter to the Editor, call talkback radio or visit my local politician.
Postscript: Actually, I just remembered that I can't be getting involved in politics here, precisely because that's not the main purpose for being here, and things can go badly for the missionary organisation if you do - not to mention that it can be quite rude to critique the politics of the country where you are a guest. But I still need to have my thinking clear on all this so I can provide godly counsel to the people I work with - and, in this internet age, there'll still be plenty of opportunity for me to play my part in Oz.
Postscript II: And prayer. That's one area of political involvement that is unambiguously commanded of us... and one that I mostly forget.
Christians in places like Australia or Chile should get involved in the issues of the day, firstly because we live in a democracy. Our minority status doesn't preclude us from having the right to have our say. And we shouldn't preempt the political process, standing back so that the majority view might come to pass. It's not our job, but the politicians' to represent fairly the views of the electorate. And perhaps the rightness and goodness of God's ways will shine through and be taken up, even though Christians are small in number. But if this doesn't happen, it's not the end of the world. Now is not the age for a perfect society; that time is still to come - at the end of the world.
The second reason we should get our hands dirty is because following God's ways helps societies to flourish. I realise that in a country of people untouched by the Gospel, the Christian ideal will always be imperfectly legislated and lived out, but I still think that the little good that may result is nonetheless good and worth pursuing.
But we need to be very careful about how we come across. Because we love the people around us, we want to see them flourishing not only in this life but in the next as well, so we need to make sure that our political involvement doesn't obscure the path to salvation and true, abundant, eternal life. Our society already thinks that Christian = a good person (/hypocrite) who believes in God. We don't want our campaigning to imply that Christianity is a call for all people to be good, when it is rather the offer of forgiveness and goodness to people who, by themselves, cannot be good.
There are perhaps three ways to avoid this. Firstly, make decisions about right and wrong in accordance with your faith, but don't argue for it in these terms. Stick to humanism, experience, statistics, psychology... Arguing like this will keep you from confusing Christianity with morality. And, because the Christian way is the way of Truth and Goodness, there's every chance that some of this will have seeped through into these manmade disciplines.
Secondly, if your main gig is issues of the day, then be wary of branding yourself 'Christian' or even organising your lobbying in this way. Better for Christians to act as private citizens or to get involved in existing parties, than for the Gospel message to be muddled up with morality.
... Unless, thirdly, you take special care to link issues back to the Gospel. This way, even if you achieve nothing in the present political sphere, people will have heard about the coming of a perfect, heavenly society. And, who knows, because the Gospel speaks truely about and into the human condition, people may feel the weight of your argument even if they don't accept your religion. If a group of Christians were to consistently take this approach, then being branded 'Christian' would be a wonderful thing.
The other thing to keep a weather eye on in any political involvement is religious freedom - of any religion, not Christianity alone (and even sometimes of atheism too). This is why I viewed the introduction of humanist ethics classes in NSW schools as a good thing - so long as it was only one option on offer, along with classes from Christians, Muslims, Buddists and whoever. I don't think we should be fighting for unique Christian privileges in today's society, but rather for freedom of all religions - particularly in the face of supposed 'neutral' secularism. And, if we need to give ground on some moral issue for the sake of religious freedom, then this is what we must do.
This is all well and good - but what does it mean for me? Well it's going to mean different things for different people, depending on the gifts and opportunities that God has given us. Some people have a special interest in and facility for politics. Others will simply be called to vote thoughtfully and speak Christianly about the day's news in the work staffroom. But me? Well all this has made me see that it's good and right that I focus my energies on my Christian ministry, which is the more important thing. But, particularly given the intelligence God has given me, it would also be good for me to have some involvement in the political sphere - especially if I think an issue is unusually good for highlighting the Gospel (say, some issue of justice, vengeance, or grace); if I think the non-Christian path will be especially damaging for society; if there is injustice involved (eg corruption or active abuse of the vulnerable); or if it is a case of religious freedom. Which, in Australia at least, brings me back to abortion. Only this time round I know it's okay not to give it my all, and I have some clear strategies for action. I do need to get better at working out non-religious arguments and at linking social issues back to the Gospel. I need to be nutting these things out as issues crop up, in anticipation of conversations that might come my way. And, who knows, one day I may even do something crazy like write a Letter to the Editor, call talkback radio or visit my local politician.
Postscript: Actually, I just remembered that I can't be getting involved in politics here, precisely because that's not the main purpose for being here, and things can go badly for the missionary organisation if you do - not to mention that it can be quite rude to critique the politics of the country where you are a guest. But I still need to have my thinking clear on all this so I can provide godly counsel to the people I work with - and, in this internet age, there'll still be plenty of opportunity for me to play my part in Oz.
Postscript II: And prayer. That's one area of political involvement that is unambiguously commanded of us... and one that I mostly forget.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Pre-teens
A Chilean friend was telling me that at her church they've just starting to provide a
special Sunday School for kids aged 9-13, who
aren't really kids any more (they're dealing with more
'adult' issues), but who also aren't quite teenagers yet (too
immature). It's a unique and difficult time of transition. The thinking was that Sunday School tends to focus on the
younger kids and Youth Group the older teenagers, so kids at this
crucial stage can get overlooked. I think there's a lot of wisdom here.
Riches
Chile is a hugely stratified society. Everyone knows their place and knows how to tell where everyone else slots in. I've been kind of considering myself upper class, as I speak English and I've got white skin (sadly, this matters). But it doesn't rest easy with me. Over time I've worked out that my wage is about double that of a cleaner and a little over half that of a nurse - so I guess that actually makes me middle class. Such is the privilege of a Western foreigner - I automatically have the sort of flexibility and respect that local people may never earn. But all this has made me see that I have 'issues' with the rich. I don't like their richness and I don't like being associated with them. What's going on?
What's going on is that I'm feeling judgmental and guilty because I feel like it's wrong for some people to have more than enough, while others don't have what they need. I feel like the poor are poor because the rich aren't generous.
It is certainly wrong that some people don't have enough, but the way of righting this doesn't lie solely with the rich. Social systems are more complex than that and God is powerful and has many creative means at his disposal. It's not all up to us. And now is not the age for abolishing poverty - that's what heaven is for, and he will carefully shepherd his people, poor and rich, into that good place.
And while it might be wrong for some to lack all they need, it's not wrong to have more than enough - it's a blessing! What is wrong is to have this and not be generous. So there's no need for me to be ashamed or hide my wealth - but I do need to question my generosity. And generosity is something I'm only slowly learning and I still don't know exactly what it should look like. But, by God's grace, I'm getting there and will arrive.
What's going on is that I'm feeling judgmental and guilty because I feel like it's wrong for some people to have more than enough, while others don't have what they need. I feel like the poor are poor because the rich aren't generous.
It is certainly wrong that some people don't have enough, but the way of righting this doesn't lie solely with the rich. Social systems are more complex than that and God is powerful and has many creative means at his disposal. It's not all up to us. And now is not the age for abolishing poverty - that's what heaven is for, and he will carefully shepherd his people, poor and rich, into that good place.
And while it might be wrong for some to lack all they need, it's not wrong to have more than enough - it's a blessing! What is wrong is to have this and not be generous. So there's no need for me to be ashamed or hide my wealth - but I do need to question my generosity. And generosity is something I'm only slowly learning and I still don't know exactly what it should look like. But, by God's grace, I'm getting there and will arrive.
The foreigner
Most of my life I've been 'a local', more or less. Now the tables have turned and I'm the foreigner. So, with my newly-won experience, what can churches do to make foreigners welcome? Some of this will go for any newcomer.
- Sit next to them in church. Chances are they feel like a loser sitting on their own.
- If it's not too much trouble, it helps to have things in writing (song lyrics, liturgy, announcements, sermon outlines).
- If you see them standing by themselves, invite them to join your conversation. (It's really hard to break into a conversation when you don't know the language or the social norms.)
- Let them know what you're talking about (but don't ruin the conversation by explaining every detail)...
- Or find out a bit about them (try to ask simple - even yes/no - questions).
- Talk a little slower than normal (and a little more simply if you can), but don't talk more loudly.
- Keep your cool if they don't understand you or the other way round. Try for a bit, then give up and move on. It's no big deal.
- Invite them to your place for lunch.
- Help them with the practicalities of getting involved in church. Check they know what's going on, that they're welcome, where and when it is, and that they have a way of getting there.
- For new events, let them know of any cultural traditions (eg how the church does family lunch).
- Ask them to be on a roster (one that doesn't require much talking).
- Greet them enthusiastically when you see them each week (by name if you can).
- And church leaders should keep an eye on how they're doing, if they're getting along to stuff, if they're starting to make friends.
Before
I became a Christian eight years ago, at the start of 2004 when I was 27. I usually have trouble remembering what life was like for me before then, but recently a few things have brought it all to mind. So here's the old me :/. A good person, a nice person, fun to be around and knowing, but never really putting herself out for other people and broken and jaded inside.
I used to care deeply about what people thought of me, if they liked me. I yearned to be esteemed, even regaled, as an talented, creative person. I was enormously insecure. Other people's opinions were all there was in my world and I wanted to matter. I didn't realise I was smart but I did think I was somehow special, and I didn't want to go through life without that being known. I didn't know there was a God who had his own view of me, who made me and whose opinion mattered more than a world full of people.
I used to be pretty lost really - one friend said there was a desperation about me that reminded him of streetkids he knew. But I was good company and I don't think my other friends really noticed this part. I felt as if I was floating through life, a bit of a gypsy. I moved around and expected that I always would. When I had a problem I'd move on, or if this wasn't possible, I'd stop myself from thinking about it. I was really, really skilled at this. Inside I was always anxious and striving. I didn't know that it was possible to face your brokenness and sin, to have it completely forgiven, and to start over clean and new and cared for. I didn't know that you could live your life with peace in your heart, and with a sense of true groundedness in God and a true home with your brothers and sisters on earth, and one day in heaven.
I trusted my friends - I knew they were always there for me and that they cared about me and would never betray me - but I didn't trust them with what was closest to my heart. I didn't trust anyone with anything precious. I didn't know that you could have brothers and sisters, broken like you, willing to sit and hear the deepest things and pray for you.
My world was much, much smaller then. I was aiming for a life rich with travel, experience and creativity. A life shared with good friends, a husband and kids. I thought this was really living. Difficult relationships troubled me but the only workable option I could see was to distance myself. I thought that's just the way life went in the adult world. I didn't see a world full of people to care for, a spiritual realm, an eternal future. Didn't know there was much more to be pursued and celebrated than your own narrow context.
I didn't have a metanarrative then, just a collection of hardwon wisdom and 'wise' sayings. I was happy with this: I thought it realistic, the way life really was - not tied up with a ribbon, but the good and bad and ugly and joyful and everything mixed in together. And all that could be done was to live each moment to the full, follow your heart, and learn a few things along the way. Things that sounded beautiful, liberating and true to me then are now vapid, juvenile and untenable. Now I live my days with the staggering privilege of knowing what this world is, what it is for, where it goes, and what is my part.
I had a feeble vision of how good life could be. It was what it was and you just had to make the best of it that you could. To be Good seemed lifeless, cold and enslaving, and to forge your own path - however Wrong that might be - liberating, mature, savvy and free. I thought I was leading the fun, authentic life. I had no idea that Goodness was at once joy and clarity and sweetness; that you could still wholeheartedly enjoy all the good things in life, giving thanks to God; and that living in obedience to his ways would bring such a sense of rest and completion.
I rejoice that - not because of anything I ever did, but by his grace alone - I am now one of those of whom it can be said:
I used to care deeply about what people thought of me, if they liked me. I yearned to be esteemed, even regaled, as an talented, creative person. I was enormously insecure. Other people's opinions were all there was in my world and I wanted to matter. I didn't realise I was smart but I did think I was somehow special, and I didn't want to go through life without that being known. I didn't know there was a God who had his own view of me, who made me and whose opinion mattered more than a world full of people.
I used to be pretty lost really - one friend said there was a desperation about me that reminded him of streetkids he knew. But I was good company and I don't think my other friends really noticed this part. I felt as if I was floating through life, a bit of a gypsy. I moved around and expected that I always would. When I had a problem I'd move on, or if this wasn't possible, I'd stop myself from thinking about it. I was really, really skilled at this. Inside I was always anxious and striving. I didn't know that it was possible to face your brokenness and sin, to have it completely forgiven, and to start over clean and new and cared for. I didn't know that you could live your life with peace in your heart, and with a sense of true groundedness in God and a true home with your brothers and sisters on earth, and one day in heaven.
I trusted my friends - I knew they were always there for me and that they cared about me and would never betray me - but I didn't trust them with what was closest to my heart. I didn't trust anyone with anything precious. I didn't know that you could have brothers and sisters, broken like you, willing to sit and hear the deepest things and pray for you.
My world was much, much smaller then. I was aiming for a life rich with travel, experience and creativity. A life shared with good friends, a husband and kids. I thought this was really living. Difficult relationships troubled me but the only workable option I could see was to distance myself. I thought that's just the way life went in the adult world. I didn't see a world full of people to care for, a spiritual realm, an eternal future. Didn't know there was much more to be pursued and celebrated than your own narrow context.
I didn't have a metanarrative then, just a collection of hardwon wisdom and 'wise' sayings. I was happy with this: I thought it realistic, the way life really was - not tied up with a ribbon, but the good and bad and ugly and joyful and everything mixed in together. And all that could be done was to live each moment to the full, follow your heart, and learn a few things along the way. Things that sounded beautiful, liberating and true to me then are now vapid, juvenile and untenable. Now I live my days with the staggering privilege of knowing what this world is, what it is for, where it goes, and what is my part.
I had a feeble vision of how good life could be. It was what it was and you just had to make the best of it that you could. To be Good seemed lifeless, cold and enslaving, and to forge your own path - however Wrong that might be - liberating, mature, savvy and free. I thought I was leading the fun, authentic life. I had no idea that Goodness was at once joy and clarity and sweetness; that you could still wholeheartedly enjoy all the good things in life, giving thanks to God; and that living in obedience to his ways would bring such a sense of rest and completion.
I rejoice that - not because of anything I ever did, but by his grace alone - I am now one of those of whom it can be said:
you are a chosen people, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people belonging to God, that you may declare the praises of him who called you out of darkness into his wonderful light. Once you were not a people, but now you are the people of God; once you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy. (1 Peter 2:9-10)
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