In the humorous song “I’m still a guy” by Brad Paisley the country artist sings the following line: “these days there’s dudes getting facials, manicured, waxed and botoxed with deep spray-on tans and creamy lotion-y hands that can’t grip a tackle box…” Well this might be the case with some of my misguided American brethren but there is a little place just down south where they haven’t heard of such beautifying enhancements. Here in busy kinder (bush country) my bar soap was a novelty and the object of wonder…and that was with the Aukaan women! Sand just doesn’t have the same refreshing scent as my verdant bar of Irish Spring. So needless to say people out here are tough…and therefore work is tough.
I consider myself an outdoorsman and a country boy of sorts. It wasn’t incidental that I arrived in this place doing this particular work in this jungle environment. And I have loved every minute of it. Since arriving in Godolphin a month ago, I had become acquainted with the village but hadn’t ventured to do anything too risky or adventurous. With a foreigner, Awakeners exercise an understandable degree of caution. You’re under their care and your well-being is their responsibility. They want to see what you can handle. You quickly learn why because there isn’t room for blunders when you’re deep in the bush and mistakes can very well cost you your life. After three weeks I was anxious to get out and do something outside Godolphin itself. I was chomping-at-the-bit to get after it.
So around the last week of September every family in Godolphin began the annual task of clearing a section of land to plant for next year’s crops. Baa’ Pikin Lodie gave me the go and so two days were spent cutting all the underbrush of a two to three acre plot of virgin jungle. With machete in hand we hacked and hacked…and hacked all day long. The jungle vines and brambles are which make the jungle so dense were the objects of our wrath. All the while carefully looking for hidden wasp nests and deadly snakes. It was work, no doubt and at the end of day 1 our hands were sore and bleeding. But as tough as this sounds, women in the village do it along side the men. Saa’ Olie, Baa’ Pikin Lodie’s wife worked with us the whole day. But this wasn’t the end to clearing the plot. A weekend to rest and then we go back to Faa goon: Fell all the trees on the plot. It’s what Aukaaners call man nengee wooko (“man’s work” or for a better definition and understanding, “manly man’s work”).
So Monday arrives and we load up all our gear and head to the planting ground (goon). There’s a clear and apparent disconnect that comes with two people who speak a different language. I could tell Baa’ Pikin Lodie wasn’t sure if I had worked with an axe before. I know he was going to be cutting with the chain saw and although I knew how to use one too I didn’t ask, besides I love workout you get cutting with an axe. When I told him I’d used an axe plenty of times helping my Grandparents cut firewood and didn’t try to push using the chainsaw there was an immediate relief on and reassurance on his face. Why would there be any apprehensions in the first place? I soon discovered why.
Before we put the axe to the tree, Baa’ Pikin Lodie prayed in earnest to the Lord for safety while we worked. It was really neat that he saw that as being of paramount importance and we wouldn’t dare venture to begin without asking God’s hand to be upon us. So I began to hack away. I love cutting with an axe. And when you fell a big tree after strenuous effort there is a unique sense of satisfaction – a victorious feeling. Well there are also dangers (big surprise) when Faa’ing a goon. The tricky part of the work stems from the vines interwined in as many as a dozen trees. You cut one expecting it to fall and it just hangs or won’t move. You look up and see it being held by a vine connected to another (usually bigger) tree. So you cut every tree in that area and yet none have come down. You carefully observe to spot which one is keeping them all from falling. So you eventually cut the winner and in an instant all the trees come down with a swift and violent crash. Toward the end of day two with a small section of the plot left uncut in which about 10 relatively large trees had all been hacked but were being held up by one. Baa’ Pikin Lodie had a necessary planned route of escape since the tree was situated right smack in the middle of where all the trees were going to fall. He cut until we heard the first (and only) telltale sign: a faint crackling of the trunk. So Lodie began a dash towards safety. The scene was like something from a movie because he barely escaped, the trees were so near to hitting him I couldn’t help but see Indiana Jones and the huge boulder in Raiders of the Lost Ark. And like Indy, he came out unscathed. There were many close calls but that’s what is to be expected when you’re doing man nengee wooko. So after two exhausting long days with sore hands and scraped and scratched legs (I for some unknown reason did not find it necessary to bring pants and I paid for it dearly) we were finished. At prayer time with believers we had plenty of reasons to give God praise. Many Aukaaners had gotten serious injuries and just a month or so previous several men had died from accidents.
When people in the village found out that I had Faa’d a goon they were impressed and laughed because this work is about as “Aukaan” as you can get. Doing it helped me understand and discover a newfound respect for the hard life they live to provide food for their families. When telling men here the story of the Fall of Man there is always a clear understanding and acceptance when God tells Adam: “cursed is the ground because of you; through painful toil you will eat of it all the days of your life” and “by the sweat of your brow you will eat your food until you return to the ground”.
Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Once in a lifetime experience
So often you hear the phrase “once-in-a-lifetime experience”. There are countless places and a diverse and extensive list of things people do that fit in the category. But anything, if done only once, is by definition a once is a lifetime experience. I was privileged to experience an event that will probably be a once-in a lifetime experience for myself and one which I doubt few, if any person outside of the interior jungle of Suriname will ever see. I got witness and be a part of what is known as Ponsu. An odd word it is, with no particular resemblance to any commonly used English word. How it is performed and the results are just as unique.
In the jungle there exists a certain plant which Aukaaners call “Neko”. It looks just like any piece of wood or medium-sized vine you see everyday but it possesses a striking potency when it is prepared and used in a particular manner. So the vine is sought and brought to a place upstream from the village, it is mashed and pulverized with hewn-out wooden clubs awaiting its fate: being washed in the Tapanhoni river. And what Neko does is a splendid and puzzling thing: as the Aukaaners say, “a meke den fisi dunguu”. Translation: It makes the fish drunk. Okay, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and presume that you haven’t been around drunken fish. Well…..I’d take an intoxicated fish over a sober one any day…and not because they’re a lot more fun to be around. I know it sounds like I’m pulling your leg and you’re probably thinking a year in the bush is beginning to have adverse effects on my mind. But believe me, when I heard how this thing works I was just as incredulous. So when I witnessed Ponsu I made sure to take video and photographic evidence.
So what does a drunk fish do and why does every soul in the whole village come to take part in it? If you know the jungle you know every form of protein: fish, meat, fowl is diligently sought for consumption. When you find an effective method to acquire it you ride that wave. Physiologically, a “drunken” fish is simply one deprived of oxygen. And what is causing the water the fish is living in to be deprived of this precious oxygen? You got it: Neko. And so that’s how Ponsu works. The Neko has some chemical property that deprives the river water downstream from where it is washed of Oxygen. As I witnessed, a little Neko was effective for more than 10 kilometers downstream for a river at some spots is over 600 Meters across.
Well the fish behave well…like drunks. They are disoriented and sluggish. They float to the top of the water, flop around, sink back down, languidly swim in circles. And they are easy targets for an entire village (including myself) armed with spears. The village Ponsu’s the river once annually. So with a chance for an abundant catch of fish no one misses out. Even a rookie like myself speared at least four. It was a blast. We’re going into rapids and there are countless boats. It was like a roller coaster ride. I couldn’t believe I was really doing this. The implements were maybe six feet long and most were handmade of wood with a sharp tip. Needless to say, people we’re surprised to see a white guy (one who just arrived two weeks previously) out there.
The whole thing began on a Tuesday afternoon and ended Wednesday around 11 A.M. We camped on the river Tuesday night and got up around 4 A.M. and as the sun began to rise, a few men began to wash the Neko in the river. Behind these men lay a sea of boats and entire families waiting in visible anticipation. It was a race as I came to realize. After the washing was complete, someone shouted “Go!” and everyone began to rush downriver, maneuvering and dodging fellow boats; all while spearing fish they could find. We found one spot in the river and waited as all sorts of fish of every shape and size floated by from the tiniest guppy to six-pound peacock bass. I was in one boat with two seasoned veterans, Baa’ Bodi and Baa’ Yunkuman. When you saw a big one the excitement level jumped. The spotter pointed and if (when) someone missed, we all tried to take our shots as the fish would dip down and we looked intently to predict where it would pop back up. After about four hours it was complete. Everyone went home with a hearty portion of fish, much of which will not be eaten within a day or two. The rest is smoked, salted or dried for preservation. So this fleeting rush of fun has now come to a close but as for the once in a lifetime deal….well I’m here till October 2010 so there’s a high probability there will have to be a word replacement with the insertion twice -in a lifetime experience.
In the jungle there exists a certain plant which Aukaaners call “Neko”. It looks just like any piece of wood or medium-sized vine you see everyday but it possesses a striking potency when it is prepared and used in a particular manner. So the vine is sought and brought to a place upstream from the village, it is mashed and pulverized with hewn-out wooden clubs awaiting its fate: being washed in the Tapanhoni river. And what Neko does is a splendid and puzzling thing: as the Aukaaners say, “a meke den fisi dunguu”. Translation: It makes the fish drunk. Okay, so I’m gonna go out on a limb here and presume that you haven’t been around drunken fish. Well…..I’d take an intoxicated fish over a sober one any day…and not because they’re a lot more fun to be around. I know it sounds like I’m pulling your leg and you’re probably thinking a year in the bush is beginning to have adverse effects on my mind. But believe me, when I heard how this thing works I was just as incredulous. So when I witnessed Ponsu I made sure to take video and photographic evidence.
So what does a drunk fish do and why does every soul in the whole village come to take part in it? If you know the jungle you know every form of protein: fish, meat, fowl is diligently sought for consumption. When you find an effective method to acquire it you ride that wave. Physiologically, a “drunken” fish is simply one deprived of oxygen. And what is causing the water the fish is living in to be deprived of this precious oxygen? You got it: Neko. And so that’s how Ponsu works. The Neko has some chemical property that deprives the river water downstream from where it is washed of Oxygen. As I witnessed, a little Neko was effective for more than 10 kilometers downstream for a river at some spots is over 600 Meters across.
Well the fish behave well…like drunks. They are disoriented and sluggish. They float to the top of the water, flop around, sink back down, languidly swim in circles. And they are easy targets for an entire village (including myself) armed with spears. The village Ponsu’s the river once annually. So with a chance for an abundant catch of fish no one misses out. Even a rookie like myself speared at least four. It was a blast. We’re going into rapids and there are countless boats. It was like a roller coaster ride. I couldn’t believe I was really doing this. The implements were maybe six feet long and most were handmade of wood with a sharp tip. Needless to say, people we’re surprised to see a white guy (one who just arrived two weeks previously) out there.
The whole thing began on a Tuesday afternoon and ended Wednesday around 11 A.M. We camped on the river Tuesday night and got up around 4 A.M. and as the sun began to rise, a few men began to wash the Neko in the river. Behind these men lay a sea of boats and entire families waiting in visible anticipation. It was a race as I came to realize. After the washing was complete, someone shouted “Go!” and everyone began to rush downriver, maneuvering and dodging fellow boats; all while spearing fish they could find. We found one spot in the river and waited as all sorts of fish of every shape and size floated by from the tiniest guppy to six-pound peacock bass. I was in one boat with two seasoned veterans, Baa’ Bodi and Baa’ Yunkuman. When you saw a big one the excitement level jumped. The spotter pointed and if (when) someone missed, we all tried to take our shots as the fish would dip down and we looked intently to predict where it would pop back up. After about four hours it was complete. Everyone went home with a hearty portion of fish, much of which will not be eaten within a day or two. The rest is smoked, salted or dried for preservation. So this fleeting rush of fun has now come to a close but as for the once in a lifetime deal….well I’m here till October 2010 so there’s a high probability there will have to be a word replacement with the insertion twice -in a lifetime experience.
Fear
With more than likely little knowledge of the interior of Suriname, what do you the reader imagine as being the two most commonly asked questions of me by Aukaaners? Think hard. There are no shortage of questions in the world. Before living here I would have never even known where to start so don’t beat yourself up for not knowing. Well, the two most common questions asked are these: You’re how old?...24! Why aren’t you married? and the second, “You aren’t afraid of (fill in the blank)? The former of these two…well, I’ll save that for another time…as in personal conversation, you probably don’t want to read a blog that long. Lol.
In our missionary training we learned of how sin manifests itself in (loosely) three different distinctive categories: guilt, shame and fear. Western cultures such as our own are guilt-based because we judge by law to determine right or wrong. In Aukaan culture fear pervades the lives of this people group and satan uses it to hold them in bondage to sin. Any time Aukaaners see me swimming in the river they are quick to warn me and admonish me to not go there. I have an answer ready but first ask them why I should be afraid. There is no good physical reason to fear swimming in the Tapanahoni, especially in the dry season with a languid current and an abundance of shallow places to take refuge if you become tired. None of the fish will attack humans so the only thing I am careful to take heed is sting-rays in the sand and the diabolical Makaa palms covered in thorns that occasionally lie just below the surface of the water. As of today, (October 17) I have yet to be stung by a sting ray nor have I gotten any sort of serious injury by a Makaa. All the praise to God for this.
Interesting enough, all the villagers who warned me about the river didn’t mention thorn palms or fresh water sting rays. They didn’t tell me I might drown because perhaps I’m not a good swimmer but they began to talk about spirits that pull you down under the water and drown you and all kinds of supernatural creatures and demons that seek out humans in the river. This might sound like myth and folklore that most in America would disregard as superstition. I’ve been here long enough to know the spiritual world and demonic oppression are so prevalent that I could never, as a believer deny that. So from there I begin from where I should’ve started anyway: The Lord. So I’ve told everyone who asks the question that I don’t know what’s under the water. I believe in evil spirits and perhaps there is something that can kill a person in the water but I believe in Jesus and I pray for God’s protection and the Holy Spirit that resides in all Christians keeps me safe not only in the river but everywhere I go. I put my trust in him to protect me and therefore I’m not afraid. This simple act of swimming in the river has had a great impact on villagers in Godoloho.
Taylor and I paddled in our canoe one night when I was down in Ditabikii for two weeks in October to another island in the dark and during a rainstorm. People were shocked and said, “They’re not afraid of anything”. We’ve taken every opportunity to give our Savior all the credit for this. That same week we spoke for an hour on the radio. Taylor interviewed me and I talked about swimming without fear and used the opportunity to share the Biblical account of Jesus and the demon- possessed man in Mark 5. Thousands heard this and I pray the Lord was and continues to be glorified in how we live our lives and that the manner in which we live them will be the biggest testimony of all.
In our missionary training we learned of how sin manifests itself in (loosely) three different distinctive categories: guilt, shame and fear. Western cultures such as our own are guilt-based because we judge by law to determine right or wrong. In Aukaan culture fear pervades the lives of this people group and satan uses it to hold them in bondage to sin. Any time Aukaaners see me swimming in the river they are quick to warn me and admonish me to not go there. I have an answer ready but first ask them why I should be afraid. There is no good physical reason to fear swimming in the Tapanahoni, especially in the dry season with a languid current and an abundance of shallow places to take refuge if you become tired. None of the fish will attack humans so the only thing I am careful to take heed is sting-rays in the sand and the diabolical Makaa palms covered in thorns that occasionally lie just below the surface of the water. As of today, (October 17) I have yet to be stung by a sting ray nor have I gotten any sort of serious injury by a Makaa. All the praise to God for this.
Interesting enough, all the villagers who warned me about the river didn’t mention thorn palms or fresh water sting rays. They didn’t tell me I might drown because perhaps I’m not a good swimmer but they began to talk about spirits that pull you down under the water and drown you and all kinds of supernatural creatures and demons that seek out humans in the river. This might sound like myth and folklore that most in America would disregard as superstition. I’ve been here long enough to know the spiritual world and demonic oppression are so prevalent that I could never, as a believer deny that. So from there I begin from where I should’ve started anyway: The Lord. So I’ve told everyone who asks the question that I don’t know what’s under the water. I believe in evil spirits and perhaps there is something that can kill a person in the water but I believe in Jesus and I pray for God’s protection and the Holy Spirit that resides in all Christians keeps me safe not only in the river but everywhere I go. I put my trust in him to protect me and therefore I’m not afraid. This simple act of swimming in the river has had a great impact on villagers in Godoloho.
Taylor and I paddled in our canoe one night when I was down in Ditabikii for two weeks in October to another island in the dark and during a rainstorm. People were shocked and said, “They’re not afraid of anything”. We’ve taken every opportunity to give our Savior all the credit for this. That same week we spoke for an hour on the radio. Taylor interviewed me and I talked about swimming without fear and used the opportunity to share the Biblical account of Jesus and the demon- possessed man in Mark 5. Thousands heard this and I pray the Lord was and continues to be glorified in how we live our lives and that the manner in which we live them will be the biggest testimony of all.
Saa' Bea's testimony
A true joy since arriving and doing ministry in Godoloho has been hearing the testimonies from believers in the village. I wasn’t sure what to expect when I got here concerning how these folks came to know Jesus as Lord and Savior. I had no preconceived notions because I knew how different life was here and people’s proximity with the spiritual world was so acute. I was sure that the story of how they came to faith would not be a typical answer you here back home. But what I heard and continue to hear had me listening in awe, wonder and amazement and praising God.
Nearly every testimony was a prolific story that invariably involved the supernatural. There were miraculous healings, visions and dreams. As time passed by I realized this to be the norm. I couldn’t wait to hear another story. I’m going to tell the story of one woman in Godoloho named Saa’ Bea whose testimony involved a miraculous healing, a dream and a steadfast faith of Job-like proportions.
As I sat down under the refreshing shade of a mango tree during a typical mid-morning Godoloho day eating watermelon and enjoying a cool breeze that would soon be forgotten as the hot mid-day afternoon hours arrived Saa Bea told me the following story:
She had been a believer for a while but her husband not (very typical scenario here). She had contracted some type of debilitating illness that essentially left her paralyzed below the neck. She told she couldn’t even lift a spoon to feed herself at more severe stages of this illness. She was a complete invalid and was at the mercy of her family to take care of her. She prayed fervently everyday for healing from God. She put her trust in Christ and said never doubted he would heal her. The unbelievers in her family and fellow villagers saw her feeble condition and urged her to seek healing from a Bonuman who would use magic, oracles, and other various forms witchcraft to attempt to make her well. She rejected all offers and held fast to her faith as sole healer. As time passed and her condition failed to improve, she was persecuted with increasing intensity as she would not even give the traditional medicinal treatment of the Aukaan people. Her neighbors derided, ridiculed and continued heaped abuse on her. They even made threats on her life and tried to convince her husband to divorce her and thereby remove his financial provision and care. One of her daughters, Esma (a Christian) stuck with her through this great time of trial and suffering. She tended to her needs during these years.
Then one day she had a dream. In the dream she saw Jesus. She said his face was as bright as the sun and his clothes a brilliant white. He told her in this vision to take a particular plant and make a certain wash with water and bathe in it. As she could not raise herself to retrieve the plant needed to make what the Lord had asked her to make, she begged her husband to do it. He did as she asked and she washed in it for three days. On the third day, she rose up and walked. An absolute miracle! All people in the village were in awe and acknowledged God’s power and his mercy towards Bea. A story of this magnitude was too wonderful to not ask others in Godoloho and surrounding villages. I asked two men who are non-believers about her and they both corroborated the story: She was paralyzed and became well miraculously.
As I sat in awe-struck wonder I posed the question as to what was the response to all those who witnessed the power of your God and your steadfast faith in the face of unrelenting opposition. She calmly answered that they did not deny the Lord’s power but did not come to repent or accept the God who did what no one else did or could. My eyes began to well up with tears as I saw the awesome power of Jesus and at the same moment the hardened, stubborn, rebellious and unbelieving human heart. I was quickly brought back to the Gospels in which Jesus did miraculous signs and wonders demonstrating his divinity and power over and above the entire world and everything which plagues and hinders humanity: even death itself. Pray for the Holy Spirit to soften hearts in Godoloho and the interior or Suriname. He’s revealing himself to many and bringing to himself those whom he is pleased to bring.
I couldn’t help but see in Saa Bea’s story Jesus words in the Parable of the Rich man and Lazarus:
“No father Abraham,’ he said, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent.’
He said to him, ‘if they do not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead.’” -Luke 15:30-31
Sunday, August 2, 2009
A divine revelation
If you grew up as I did in Church every Sunday and Wednesday you heard sermon after sermon and Bible lesson after Bible lesson beginning in the nursery and continuing into adulthood emphasis was frequently made on faith and truly trusting God for guidance in life and divine revelation. The heroes of the faith were lauded for giving up everything this world had to offer trusting that what God promised them was infinitely better. It never ceases to amaze me how the Andrew and Peter dropped their nets one day, left their father, and followed Jesus. They had plenty of good, ostensible reasons for keeping their career and family. But now we read their story for no other reason than that they did leave those nets and followed Jesus.
Jesus told us to ask, seek and knock in Matthew but I’ve begin to see how seldom actually do it. Oh we ask, but when do we ask with no back-up plan, no alternative, no contingency? When do we ask Jesus, trusting that either we get an answer from him or don’t get one at all. When do truly walk by faith?
Since Charles, Brittany and his family have returned to Suriname our “orientation” period has been over. We just finished wrapping-up after a volunteer group came from Tennessee. (If any of you guys are reading this, just want to express how much I enjoyed you’re coming to Suriname and miss you) Now, with less than fifteen months left on my term it was time to decide where Taylor and I would be. We knew what we’d be doing: chronological Bible storying and discipleship, but weren’t sure exactly where we would be located. Realistically, most villages would be glad to have us and therefore we critically needed discernment of which one to stay. Prior to last week Charles had one place in mind for us to visit but none of us felt any particular place was where we should be. So last Sunday we’re sitting around the table with no clue of where we should be with every option on the table. Charles told us he wants us to be in the interior by Wednesday. Him and Brittany asked Taylor and I to entertain the thought of going to different villages and doing work separately. We got down on our knees and earnestly prayed that night for guidance. We asked for revelation through any and all means: dreams, a voice, a person, the Word etc.
Monday night came. We prayed together and went home and slept. In the morning I did my devotional and at one point I felt the Holy Spirit telling me of a certain village called Godoholo. Taylor had a dream that night of a certain man from a village right across from Ditabikii. Charles called and asked us if the Lord had given us an answer. He had given him and Brittany one. This was uncharted ground for me. Charles joked with me when we went to his house for lunch that if are answers didn’t coincide, someone got a word from God and someone got it from somewhere else. I was a little apprehensive to say the least about the revelation. So we sat around the table and told them what was revealed to me. When I said Godoholo they both looked at each other and smiled. Taylor then told us about his dream. Charles and Brittany prayed that night and told them that the Lord showed them that I should be in Godoholo and Taylor should stay in Ditabikii. We were in absolute amazement. God showed all four of us separately the same word. Incredible!
This faith step has really strengthened my walk with the Lord. Charles was not a bit surprised but told us that the Lord would not give us a contradictory answer. He tells us that those who seek will find, those who ask will receive and to him who knocks the door will be opened. And so Wednesday, we headed back interior and stayed for four days. We met with Captains from Ditabikii and Godohlo to ask permission to stay and tell Bible stories. It went really well. Although everything is yet to be finalized, God has shown us where he wants Taylor and I to be. God showed us how walking by faith pleases the Lord and he does not neglect us when we ask in his name.
Stating the obvious
On a sultry, star-filled night in the interior Charles, Taylor and I along with 5 volunteers from Tennesse who had come for the week to do ministry in the interior sat in semi-circle just outside Ba’Jepin’s house waiting for “church” to start on a Wednesday night. We arrived around sunset and waited close to an hour before two other believers from the island arrived. They had been busy finishing up some last minute (or hour) work. As you can expect, this was anything but your conventional 11 A.M Sunday worship service. Charles initiated the time by asking Taylor and I to share a story from the Bible God had led us to share. Taylor told the parable of the net in Aukaan with Charles and I translating for the volunteers. He made an analogy pertinent to the jungle referring to fish we had caught setting hooks one day, some of which had been eaten by an alligator and we’re therefore analogous to “bad” fish in the parable and others which we’re the uneaten “good fish”. The Aukaaners understood well and repeated back the story and what the significance was in regard to God’s final righteous judgment.
I then told from memory the story of Jesus calming the storm in Mark 4 and made some practical application emphasizing how the disciples had seen Jesus’ authority, might and unprecedented miraculous power and yet when a storm threatened their ship (with Jesus himself on board!) they cried out: “master don’t you care that we’re going to drown?”. In the same way, we see Jesus’ work in our lives and yet when “storms” come and the wind howls and the waves crash all around we are too often like the disciples because of our lack of faith. After telling this story with a voice which was quickly waning as I was coming down with a cold, a brother, Ba’Maliki repeated the story back to me from memory with striking accuracy. It is Aukaan custom to repeat a story back to the story-teller to demonstrate their understanding of it. I was impressed and blessed to witness this. Charles concluded by asking three of the Aukaan brothers one example of which they have seen God’s work in their life. They all described how the Lord has shown himself faithful and Charles himself also gave one in which he prayed to God for rain to put out a big fire. Taylor and I witnessed this and it seeing it strengthened our faith.
As it was getting late, we prepared to leave but Charles could discern that rain was coming despite previously clear skies. Sure enough as we began walk out it began to pour. We went back to take cover at the house and wait out the deluge. Just then another believer Um Langa, showed up just as we were concluding the meeting clearly sad that he had missed the meeting. The rain delay gave us opportunity to share the stories with him. Taylor and Charles told their to Um Langa. He was joyful afterwards and grateful the Lord had sent the rain in order that we could not leave and as a consequence, he did not miss a word from the Lord. As Charles drove us back in treacherous darkness on the perilous river where only a spotlight and prior knowledge of the location of rocks prevented a disaster those in the group reflected back on what Um Langa had said. He never once veered from the reality that God sent the rain that night, at that particular time for the sole purpose of him getting a chance to hear those stories. I quickly realized how quickly I glossed over what was simply the obvious: God working through (in this case) nature to allow Um Langa to hear the word of the Lord. There’s a lesson to be learned from our Aukaan brother. If we only looked more intently we’d see God’s work in our lives in the simple and ordinary just as much as the profound and miraculous. We’ll see it as Um Langa did.
I then told from memory the story of Jesus calming the storm in Mark 4 and made some practical application emphasizing how the disciples had seen Jesus’ authority, might and unprecedented miraculous power and yet when a storm threatened their ship (with Jesus himself on board!) they cried out: “master don’t you care that we’re going to drown?”. In the same way, we see Jesus’ work in our lives and yet when “storms” come and the wind howls and the waves crash all around we are too often like the disciples because of our lack of faith. After telling this story with a voice which was quickly waning as I was coming down with a cold, a brother, Ba’Maliki repeated the story back to me from memory with striking accuracy. It is Aukaan custom to repeat a story back to the story-teller to demonstrate their understanding of it. I was impressed and blessed to witness this. Charles concluded by asking three of the Aukaan brothers one example of which they have seen God’s work in their life. They all described how the Lord has shown himself faithful and Charles himself also gave one in which he prayed to God for rain to put out a big fire. Taylor and I witnessed this and it seeing it strengthened our faith.
As it was getting late, we prepared to leave but Charles could discern that rain was coming despite previously clear skies. Sure enough as we began walk out it began to pour. We went back to take cover at the house and wait out the deluge. Just then another believer Um Langa, showed up just as we were concluding the meeting clearly sad that he had missed the meeting. The rain delay gave us opportunity to share the stories with him. Taylor and Charles told their to Um Langa. He was joyful afterwards and grateful the Lord had sent the rain in order that we could not leave and as a consequence, he did not miss a word from the Lord. As Charles drove us back in treacherous darkness on the perilous river where only a spotlight and prior knowledge of the location of rocks prevented a disaster those in the group reflected back on what Um Langa had said. He never once veered from the reality that God sent the rain that night, at that particular time for the sole purpose of him getting a chance to hear those stories. I quickly realized how quickly I glossed over what was simply the obvious: God working through (in this case) nature to allow Um Langa to hear the word of the Lord. There’s a lesson to be learned from our Aukaan brother. If we only looked more intently we’d see God’s work in our lives in the simple and ordinary just as much as the profound and miraculous. We’ll see it as Um Langa did.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Time on the Air
Since arriving in Suriname nearly six months ago, Taylor and I have prayed, strived, and persisted in learning the Aukaan language (and culture) with the intention of sharing the gospel. Considering we are here as missionaries, any striving less than this ultimate goal would make us two deceitful religious rogues. Lol. I reassure you, this is not the case. We have shared Bible stories and engaged in spiritual conversations as fast our language ability has allowed. Each successive trip saw more opportunities and almost daily discussions that one way or another involved the Lord. Our most recent trip to the interior (which was unfortunately cut short due to the pressing need to rectify our stay papers) saw the culmination of five months’ worth of language of learning. We got to share our testimonies through a surprising form of communication relatively recent to the jungle: the radio.
Ditabikii possesses the sole radio station for the entire interior. For Aukaaners and some of the other ethnic groups living within a 100 mile radius, the station, known as pakati was built by previous missionaries some of which include our supervisor Charles Shirey. The construction and broadcast of this radio station was one of the primary ways Southern Baptist missionaries served and invested in the Aukaan people. The radio broadcasts news, music (Christian and secular) and has a “Christian” hour where Bible stories are played every night at 8 p.m. ironically; we didn’t have a radio ourselves and so only heard what was faintly audible from the station located in our backyard. We first shared a short message in Aukaan introducing ourselves and briefly describing our purpose here while ending with a Bible verse.
We didn’t have a full understanding of how popular and widely-listened to the radio was until the subsequent days when just about everyone we talked to mentioned hearing us that Saturday night. We had rehearsed what we were going to say and carefully wrote the words and constantly practiced but the Lord really anointed it. Our language teacher Ba’Joti who gave a formal introduction later told us: “a be go gaata” (It went smooth)
With a limited amount of time in the Jungle, a newfound confidence in speaking Aukaan and a well-received response from villagers we made it a goal to get on the air again. After a week or so of writing, rewriting, reciting and proofreading we had our testimonies written and ready to present. And so on a Thursday night @ 8 we first prayed for the Lord to bless what would be said and for the Holy Spirit to move in the hearts of hearers. I went first, gave a brief story of my childhood, how became a Christian, how God called me to be a missionary here and the reason we have come all the way from America to Suriname. This being that Christ loves compels us, he desires a personal relationship with every person and he’s the only way to eternal life. Taylor followed with a similarly ordered testimony. The total time amounted to less than ten minutes.
Just as with the first time, many Aukaaners in the villagers heard us that night and told us so. We were delighted, not because we spoke the language intelligibly or local notoriety resulting from two white guys speaking Aukaan but because what was said was the gospel message. We were privileged to share our testimony to a greater number of individuals than what could’ve been during the whole five months. We pray that people residing in villages where we’ll be spending the next 15 months heard of our impending arrival and most importantly, the Holy Spirit planted a seed in some of their hearts.
The Bible says in Proverbs 16 that the Lord works out everything for his own ends. Reflecting back on our short broadcast, it made me realize how something as simple as a radio can be used by God to spread his message of Love, redemption and salvation. It’s of no consequence which medium is used to propagate the gospel. What matters is that the message is preached. Jesus told us that before he returns the gospel will be proclaimed to all nations. We further realized as missionaries how our purpose is to be obedient to Jesus’ call and simply share the good news. The transformation of individual lives is the Holy Spirit’s role. That’s a huge relief and takes a lot of pressure off us as Christians. It’s exciting to think through what means and circumstances God will use to save souls in Suriname.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Giving and Sharing
Long before arriving in Suriname and even before applying to become a Journeyman, I had heard it said by those with experience on the mission field that the Lord will change you just as much as you hope or think you will change the lives of those around you. For the last four months, I’ve seen the Lord challenge me in countless ways, more than ever before since being overseas. One particular area where God has shown me I need change is in generosity and giving. Circumstances in the ministry here have revealed to me how far I fall short when I read the words of Jesus: “Give to the one who asks you, and do not turn away from the one who wants to borrow from you.” -Matthew 5:42, “But love your enemies, do good to them, and lend to them without expecting to get anything back.” –Luke 6:35
It has been fairly easy to tithe my income (no matter how small) since I’ve been taught the importance of doing that from a young age. I continue to do this as an act of obedience as the Lord tells us but in one aspect it isn’t as a major sacrifice. This last month I read Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis (thanks for b-day gift Taylor) and in a section on Social Morality he states: “I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc., is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say they are too small.” This really hit me because what the Lord was telling me was that I could and should give more.
To most of you, seeing the amount of money I’m bringing in would perhaps evoke thoughts of empathy for how much I was giving up when contrasted with what I could possibly earn in the U.S. That argument holds water until you live in a village like Ditabikii where you are hands-down wealthier than everyone around you. It’s amazing how even a single possession you own is more than people make in months or even a year here. So you can’t default to comparisons of your peers in America. In the states where most people aren’t persistently asking to borrow from you or for The Lord has given you more financially than those around you and the Biblical response to this is to be even more eager to share with those in need. In Luke’s gospel (12:48) Jesus tells us: “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”
In the states (at least in my experience) most people aren’t persistently asking to borrow or to have your possessions. You aren’t tested in your willingness to share as you I have been in Suriname. On a daily basis here people ask to borrow much of what we have. This includes various tools, machines, our boat etc. Sometimes kids or even adults will come by asking us to cook something for them. We buy food for ourselves and don’t have a ton to spare. Our friends will call asking us to buy them things in the city to bring back interior. While we have given more often than we’ve held back, my heart has too often been in the wrong place. I find myself internally grumbling and questioning and dreading….giving. And at that very moment I am aware how God judges the heart and I am convicted that I shouldn’t think this way. So in one way this is sort of a confession to all of you. I definitely have not “arrived” yet. I ask God to continue to change my heart to be more generous and to not do so grudgingly. On a positive note, the very fact that I possess the realization that I am not where I should be is a sure sign of improvement. I desire to be the “joyful giver” the word tells us God loves. When I face the realization that the Lord owns everything and he entrusts us with possessions to use for his glory, I fully grasp why it’s important to be all the more eager to share.
It has been fairly easy to tithe my income (no matter how small) since I’ve been taught the importance of doing that from a young age. I continue to do this as an act of obedience as the Lord tells us but in one aspect it isn’t as a major sacrifice. This last month I read Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis (thanks for b-day gift Taylor) and in a section on Social Morality he states: “I do not believe one can settle how much we ought to give. I am afraid the only safe rule is to give more than we can spare. In other words, if our expenditure on comforts, luxuries, amusements, etc., is up to the standard common among those with the same income as our own, we are probably giving too little. If our charities do not at all pinch or hamper us, I should say they are too small.” This really hit me because what the Lord was telling me was that I could and should give more.
To most of you, seeing the amount of money I’m bringing in would perhaps evoke thoughts of empathy for how much I was giving up when contrasted with what I could possibly earn in the U.S. That argument holds water until you live in a village like Ditabikii where you are hands-down wealthier than everyone around you. It’s amazing how even a single possession you own is more than people make in months or even a year here. So you can’t default to comparisons of your peers in America. In the states where most people aren’t persistently asking to borrow from you or for The Lord has given you more financially than those around you and the Biblical response to this is to be even more eager to share with those in need. In Luke’s gospel (12:48) Jesus tells us: “From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked.”
In the states (at least in my experience) most people aren’t persistently asking to borrow or to have your possessions. You aren’t tested in your willingness to share as you I have been in Suriname. On a daily basis here people ask to borrow much of what we have. This includes various tools, machines, our boat etc. Sometimes kids or even adults will come by asking us to cook something for them. We buy food for ourselves and don’t have a ton to spare. Our friends will call asking us to buy them things in the city to bring back interior. While we have given more often than we’ve held back, my heart has too often been in the wrong place. I find myself internally grumbling and questioning and dreading….giving. And at that very moment I am aware how God judges the heart and I am convicted that I shouldn’t think this way. So in one way this is sort of a confession to all of you. I definitely have not “arrived” yet. I ask God to continue to change my heart to be more generous and to not do so grudgingly. On a positive note, the very fact that I possess the realization that I am not where I should be is a sure sign of improvement. I desire to be the “joyful giver” the word tells us God loves. When I face the realization that the Lord owns everything and he entrusts us with possessions to use for his glory, I fully grasp why it’s important to be all the more eager to share.
A trip to the Planting grounds
Often, it happens in life that you experience one of those days in which the events that transpire seem to sum-up all that you’ve been doing. The experience is a kind of snapshot displaying a little bit of everything. Our trip to the goon (planting ground) was one of those days. One Saturday, Ba’Jepin invited us to go with him and his family to the goon (it is actually pronounced goan and yeah it was pretty funny when I first saw it spelled as well). We grabbed our gear, the equipment we bring everywhere we go, (machete, sunscreen, food, water, first aid kit, poncho etc.) took a ride up the river in the boat to a location where only Ba’Jepin himself could’ve known. There was a trail that began right at the bank. We tethered the boat to a tree, hopped out and began to hike. The path led us to the heart of the bush with all the sights and smells we have become so well acquainted with: namely the sweet floral scents of with the occasional peculiar odor signaling the presence of a snake.
We reached the goon after close to a mile of hiking. The typical Aukaan goon is a sizable acreage located away from the village where rice, corn, cassava, melons and other vegetables are grown. This food is primarily grown for each family’s consumption. The goon is farmed by slash and burn tactics and the land’s fertility is sufficient for only one season. As a result the location changes each year. A new tract of land is cleared and trees burned during the dry season and the seeds are sown to be harvested months later. The goon is far from the symmetrical, uniform American farm you see with evenly ploughed rows and spacing. The goon is littered with charred trees too large to burn and various plants and grass as tall as a man. Stalks of rice are growing in between all this. From the time we began work, Sonya, Ba’Jepin’s wife went into the field and picked stalks of rice by hand in the blazing sun with only a knife and a sack for the entire afternoon. We did some of the picking ourselves and learned how harvesting rice in this fashion is an extremely tedious and time-consuming process. We’ve participated as well as witnessed the complete process from harvesting rice to cooking it ourselves (there are a few more steps in between including pounding the rice in a giant mortar and pestle to remove the husk before sifting). We’ll never look at rice the same.
But our primary purpose was to help Ba’Jepin build a Masanga. The masanga is a thatched roof hut, a little house on the planting ground. The structure is made of wood and and palm branches; there exists not a single piece of synthetic, manmade equipment. We learned vicariously as Ba’Jepin demonstrated how to arrange and fasten the branches. For rope we used a kind of strong vine called Camina. It was strong and flexible and he told us he had looked deep in the jungle to find. As we were close to finished, much to our dismay we ran out of camina. How were we going to finish the Masanga? Not a second after he realized our means of tying was gone he told us to come with him to the edge of goon where the jungle began. Not ten meters in he had us cut down a certain plant, peel back the stem into thin strips and had us fasten them together to function as rope. It worked surprisingly well. We were able to finish the job. Taylor and I looked at each other in amazement. As we would soon find out, it would not be the last time. The roof was soon finished and was a quality piece of work: fully waterproof and would last at least two years.
The rope improvisation was an impressive feat but the highlight of the day occurred when we ventured back into the bush and began to hack down a number of medium-sized trees with trunks soft enough to felled with our machetes. The Palm-like leaves were saved for the masanga roof and Ba’Jepin’s sons mentioned to us something in Aukaan about the tree being edible. We were sure we hadn’t heard correctly. After all, we’ve only been learning the language for three months now. They insisted that this in fact was what they called Gruntu udu “vegetable wood”. They peeled back the bark to reveal a white soft core they proceeded to chew. We were skeptical to say the least, but after having already dined on Aligator, chickens feet, and Armadillo we thought we’d give it a shot. And so we ate it. It was bland but the taste was agreeable. Now we know one edible plant we could survive on if needed. It anything else, we can say, “We ate trees in Suriname”. The whole day was filled with demonstrations of ingenuity by using what the land provided. We weren’t witnessing a session on jungle survival. This was a normal family whose means of subsistence involved doing “survival” type things. The trip to the goon was an awesome learning experience, not because we ate gruntu udu or made twine out of leaves but because we were privileged to be part of a weekend family outing Suriname-style. We had the same feeling you get when you go out with your family on a recreational outing in the states. Ba’Jepin and the kids laughed at inside jokes, the boys enjoyed hacking-up trees with the machete and the Sonya and Agwena cooked. For many Aukaaners trips to the goon are the fun weekend activity everyone looks forward to. We couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend a Saturday.
We reached the goon after close to a mile of hiking. The typical Aukaan goon is a sizable acreage located away from the village where rice, corn, cassava, melons and other vegetables are grown. This food is primarily grown for each family’s consumption. The goon is farmed by slash and burn tactics and the land’s fertility is sufficient for only one season. As a result the location changes each year. A new tract of land is cleared and trees burned during the dry season and the seeds are sown to be harvested months later. The goon is far from the symmetrical, uniform American farm you see with evenly ploughed rows and spacing. The goon is littered with charred trees too large to burn and various plants and grass as tall as a man. Stalks of rice are growing in between all this. From the time we began work, Sonya, Ba’Jepin’s wife went into the field and picked stalks of rice by hand in the blazing sun with only a knife and a sack for the entire afternoon. We did some of the picking ourselves and learned how harvesting rice in this fashion is an extremely tedious and time-consuming process. We’ve participated as well as witnessed the complete process from harvesting rice to cooking it ourselves (there are a few more steps in between including pounding the rice in a giant mortar and pestle to remove the husk before sifting). We’ll never look at rice the same.
But our primary purpose was to help Ba’Jepin build a Masanga. The masanga is a thatched roof hut, a little house on the planting ground. The structure is made of wood and and palm branches; there exists not a single piece of synthetic, manmade equipment. We learned vicariously as Ba’Jepin demonstrated how to arrange and fasten the branches. For rope we used a kind of strong vine called Camina. It was strong and flexible and he told us he had looked deep in the jungle to find. As we were close to finished, much to our dismay we ran out of camina. How were we going to finish the Masanga? Not a second after he realized our means of tying was gone he told us to come with him to the edge of goon where the jungle began. Not ten meters in he had us cut down a certain plant, peel back the stem into thin strips and had us fasten them together to function as rope. It worked surprisingly well. We were able to finish the job. Taylor and I looked at each other in amazement. As we would soon find out, it would not be the last time. The roof was soon finished and was a quality piece of work: fully waterproof and would last at least two years.
The rope improvisation was an impressive feat but the highlight of the day occurred when we ventured back into the bush and began to hack down a number of medium-sized trees with trunks soft enough to felled with our machetes. The Palm-like leaves were saved for the masanga roof and Ba’Jepin’s sons mentioned to us something in Aukaan about the tree being edible. We were sure we hadn’t heard correctly. After all, we’ve only been learning the language for three months now. They insisted that this in fact was what they called Gruntu udu “vegetable wood”. They peeled back the bark to reveal a white soft core they proceeded to chew. We were skeptical to say the least, but after having already dined on Aligator, chickens feet, and Armadillo we thought we’d give it a shot. And so we ate it. It was bland but the taste was agreeable. Now we know one edible plant we could survive on if needed. It anything else, we can say, “We ate trees in Suriname”. The whole day was filled with demonstrations of ingenuity by using what the land provided. We weren’t witnessing a session on jungle survival. This was a normal family whose means of subsistence involved doing “survival” type things. The trip to the goon was an awesome learning experience, not because we ate gruntu udu or made twine out of leaves but because we were privileged to be part of a weekend family outing Suriname-style. We had the same feeling you get when you go out with your family on a recreational outing in the states. Ba’Jepin and the kids laughed at inside jokes, the boys enjoyed hacking-up trees with the machete and the Sonya and Agwena cooked. For many Aukaaners trips to the goon are the fun weekend activity everyone looks forward to. We couldn’t have asked for a better way to spend a Saturday.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
A change of Plans
In the book of James beginning in chapter 4 v.13-14 the author gives a stern warning to those who make boasts about the future. “Now listen you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow…
You might be wondering why you’re reading this blog in the third week of March when I said I would be in the jungle by March 11. Here’s where this passage in James pertains to our present situation.
The time we have spent in Paramaribo since March 4 has been a whirlwind of various natural and manmade obstacles. When we got to the city and quickly began to run the various errands that come with a six-week period away. We scheduled a flight back into the interior for Wednesday March 11. We were told that flights were not going out the day because of a Hindu national holiday in Suriname (Suriname is pretty diverse, 30% of the population is Hindustani- besides, most aren’t quick to fight a state mandated day off from work- regardless of what it represents) So, there was a possible flight on Thursday to Ditabikii which we tentatively penciled in….and then came the flood.
After hearing rain pour for most of the night in a state of quasi-consciousness that prevented me from gauging intensity of it, I woke up, walked into the kitchen and onto a floor fully covered in a thin layer of water. Shocked, I looked outside and saw our street which had become a canal and came to the conclusion that the rain apparently fell so fast and so hard that night as to rise and creep under our front door. From there it found its way into our front room. Thankfully, our house is covered in tile and it was possible to sweep out all the water with a squeegee. As you can guess, much of the city was inundated. The rain, continuing to fall for three more days didn’t help. As a consequence, flights were canceled. Our next planned departure: Saturday.
We told our families we’d be leaving a little later and told our tutors in the interior the same. Later that week we just needed to finish a few details with our stay papers and we’d be golden. However, as with all document work it was not as expedient as we had anticipated. Everyday brought forth a new development that couldn’t have varied greater than the previous day’s. We were sitting, waiting, wishing…and didn’t dare venture to make any more predictions about when we would be heading back.
As we woke up each day having no knowledge of how long our wait would be, the words of the Apostle James were continually coming to my mind. So to finish the passage James says in vs/ 14-15, “What is your life? You are but a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”
While I feel that me and Taylor have been far from making rash predictions or absolutes about our future we have been made further aware of how so much of our life is outside of our control. We are “a mist that appears for a while and then vanishes”. For now (If the Lord wills it) we are heading to Ditabikii Saturday and have a tentative date of return sometime during the last week of April. Thanks for all your prayers and this blog will be updated if/when we get back. :)
As I was reading my devotions today I came across a verse in Proverbs quite applicable both for me and all of you.
“Many are the plans in a man’s heart , but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” Proverbs 19:21
You might be wondering why you’re reading this blog in the third week of March when I said I would be in the jungle by March 11. Here’s where this passage in James pertains to our present situation.
The time we have spent in Paramaribo since March 4 has been a whirlwind of various natural and manmade obstacles. When we got to the city and quickly began to run the various errands that come with a six-week period away. We scheduled a flight back into the interior for Wednesday March 11. We were told that flights were not going out the day because of a Hindu national holiday in Suriname (Suriname is pretty diverse, 30% of the population is Hindustani- besides, most aren’t quick to fight a state mandated day off from work- regardless of what it represents) So, there was a possible flight on Thursday to Ditabikii which we tentatively penciled in….and then came the flood.
After hearing rain pour for most of the night in a state of quasi-consciousness that prevented me from gauging intensity of it, I woke up, walked into the kitchen and onto a floor fully covered in a thin layer of water. Shocked, I looked outside and saw our street which had become a canal and came to the conclusion that the rain apparently fell so fast and so hard that night as to rise and creep under our front door. From there it found its way into our front room. Thankfully, our house is covered in tile and it was possible to sweep out all the water with a squeegee. As you can guess, much of the city was inundated. The rain, continuing to fall for three more days didn’t help. As a consequence, flights were canceled. Our next planned departure: Saturday.
We told our families we’d be leaving a little later and told our tutors in the interior the same. Later that week we just needed to finish a few details with our stay papers and we’d be golden. However, as with all document work it was not as expedient as we had anticipated. Everyday brought forth a new development that couldn’t have varied greater than the previous day’s. We were sitting, waiting, wishing…and didn’t dare venture to make any more predictions about when we would be heading back.
As we woke up each day having no knowledge of how long our wait would be, the words of the Apostle James were continually coming to my mind. So to finish the passage James says in vs/ 14-15, “What is your life? You are but a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.”
While I feel that me and Taylor have been far from making rash predictions or absolutes about our future we have been made further aware of how so much of our life is outside of our control. We are “a mist that appears for a while and then vanishes”. For now (If the Lord wills it) we are heading to Ditabikii Saturday and have a tentative date of return sometime during the last week of April. Thanks for all your prayers and this blog will be updated if/when we get back. :)
As I was reading my devotions today I came across a verse in Proverbs quite applicable both for me and all of you.
“Many are the plans in a man’s heart , but it is the Lord’s purpose that prevails.” Proverbs 19:21
Thursday, March 5, 2009
40 days: perspectives and reality
40 Days. Moses spent 40 days on Mount Sinai without eating bread or drinking water when he wrote on the tablets the words of the covenant-The Ten Commandments. Jesus spent 40 days and forty nights, also without eating or drinking in the desert to be tempted by Satan. Ryan Rindels and Taylor Ivester spent 40 days deep in the jungle of Suriname…where they did eat some bread and water. Okay. So we didn’t abstain from food or drink for a month and a half but on more than a few occasions I felt my share of hunger and consequently further came to grasp how blasphemous it would be for me to even remotely put myself in such a category. In many ways, life, and the job I signed up for (in what seems like ages ago) is exactly what I expected it to be. But in an equally surprising number of categories it couldn’t be farther from what I anticipated. Whatever my preconceived notions, I am strengthened in my resolve that this is where God wants me…and oh yeah I’m having a blast.
So now you’re probably asking yourself, “well is he actually going to describe how life is different or the same as expected?” To that I will elucidate with as much or as little as I think (or hope) you would want to read without yawning or lamenting that another blogger doesn’t know when they have exhausted their reader’s patience.
Life and culture where we live in the interior is as close to a pure paradox as anything I can contrive. Here are a few examples: the boats people drive on (we live on a river so that’s everyone’s mode of transportation) are essentially oversized canoes made from giant trees felled and then hewn out with a combination of fire and axe. They are then painted and engraved by hand with tribal carvings….and then powered by a Yamaha 75 HP engine running on gas and oil. Needless to say these canoes have some giddy-up. Music: a typical scene as we glance from our house across the river is kids bathing in the river fishing with cane poles, a group of women cooking rice over a cooking fire in a small hut…to the background of bumping Reggae music from some dude’s stereo. Electricity comes to the village through a giant diesel generator that runs for a few hours each day. Of course the fuel is brought 100 miles upriver in….you guessed it, the motor-powered canoes.
For some reason me and Taylor (and more than likely some of you) thought we would be in remote areas away from civilization, living-off the land and then thriving in such conditions. We were wrong in two out of three of those categories. We are in a remote location: true, but the jungle doesn’t provide much naturally for regular nourishment. There is enough to survive in the bush, but that’s all you’ll be doing… surviving, and that’s a full-time job. When traveling on the river, the jungle is so thick that you cannot even dock your boat, you hit a wall of foliage and palms called Maka that are covered in thorns so dreadfully sharp you knew God created this specimen post-fall.
So Taylor and I, with our romantic notion of living like Bear Grylls for two years quickly vanished. We bought our food in the city and incidentally underestimated our daily consumption. We still went hunting but came back empty handed and were elated to still have peanut butter and jelly in our cabinet. But with much of survival appeal gone to the wayside the Lord taught me that what really mattered and the reason I am a missionary was simply this: the people. Living with them and showing the savior’s love with the hope that they will come to faith in him was the only thing I should care about. If that means dozing to sleep in a hammock one night to the sound of a bumpin’ stereo then I’m fine with that.
I’ve learned to appreciate any amenities I possess and have gladly used them with an understanding that God has given them to me for a reason. So this sounds like no place you’ve never heard of…it’s different for sure but God is working here and the gospel possesses a power of it’s own that crosses any and all culture boundaries. In the Mark 4:26-27, The Parable of the Growing Seed Jesus said, “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows though he does not know how.”
So now you’re probably asking yourself, “well is he actually going to describe how life is different or the same as expected?” To that I will elucidate with as much or as little as I think (or hope) you would want to read without yawning or lamenting that another blogger doesn’t know when they have exhausted their reader’s patience.
Life and culture where we live in the interior is as close to a pure paradox as anything I can contrive. Here are a few examples: the boats people drive on (we live on a river so that’s everyone’s mode of transportation) are essentially oversized canoes made from giant trees felled and then hewn out with a combination of fire and axe. They are then painted and engraved by hand with tribal carvings….and then powered by a Yamaha 75 HP engine running on gas and oil. Needless to say these canoes have some giddy-up. Music: a typical scene as we glance from our house across the river is kids bathing in the river fishing with cane poles, a group of women cooking rice over a cooking fire in a small hut…to the background of bumping Reggae music from some dude’s stereo. Electricity comes to the village through a giant diesel generator that runs for a few hours each day. Of course the fuel is brought 100 miles upriver in….you guessed it, the motor-powered canoes.
For some reason me and Taylor (and more than likely some of you) thought we would be in remote areas away from civilization, living-off the land and then thriving in such conditions. We were wrong in two out of three of those categories. We are in a remote location: true, but the jungle doesn’t provide much naturally for regular nourishment. There is enough to survive in the bush, but that’s all you’ll be doing… surviving, and that’s a full-time job. When traveling on the river, the jungle is so thick that you cannot even dock your boat, you hit a wall of foliage and palms called Maka that are covered in thorns so dreadfully sharp you knew God created this specimen post-fall.
So Taylor and I, with our romantic notion of living like Bear Grylls for two years quickly vanished. We bought our food in the city and incidentally underestimated our daily consumption. We still went hunting but came back empty handed and were elated to still have peanut butter and jelly in our cabinet. But with much of survival appeal gone to the wayside the Lord taught me that what really mattered and the reason I am a missionary was simply this: the people. Living with them and showing the savior’s love with the hope that they will come to faith in him was the only thing I should care about. If that means dozing to sleep in a hammock one night to the sound of a bumpin’ stereo then I’m fine with that.
I’ve learned to appreciate any amenities I possess and have gladly used them with an understanding that God has given them to me for a reason. So this sounds like no place you’ve never heard of…it’s different for sure but God is working here and the gospel possesses a power of it’s own that crosses any and all culture boundaries. In the Mark 4:26-27, The Parable of the Growing Seed Jesus said, “This is what the kingdom of God is like. A man scatters seed on the ground. Night and day, whether he sleeps or gets up, the seed sprouts and grows though he does not know how.”
Manna...just enough for each day
So maybe it was a culmination of 23 years’ worth of mom’s cooking and dad picking up the grocery tab. It might have very well been attributed to a 16 meal-a-week plan in college at a top-rate all-you-can eat cafeteria. It could have even been the sight of $700.00 SRD on a receipt (and my failure to register that one U.S. dollar makes $2.80 Suriname dollars) at the grocery store that acted as a deterrent. Whatever the possible causes, the reality as we soon found out wasn’t quite as ambiguous: we didn’t bring enough food.
When planning our meals we glossed over important nutritional and calorie packed foods. For instance, a half cup of tomato sauce for our spaghetti packs a mere 40 calories! Needless to say, spaghetti always left us wanting. Unfortunately, we don’t have a freezer so our chicken beef had to be consumed within the first few days. That gave us no real meat outside of canned tuna for the remaining 4 and-a-half weeks. We somehow thought that one oatmeal packet and a piece of bread was a sufficient breakfast.
We optimistically factored catching fish as part of our protein for some of our dinners.….we have yet to catch one fish (beyond small bait ones). We discovered that during this time of year when the water is high fishing is poor. We failed to factor in snacks for in between meals. In addition, with a fridge that works no more than twelve hours a day there began a race against mold on my bread. We somehow thought two jars of peanut butter: one small and one large would cut it. Needless to say, we found out quickly that at our normal (conservative) eating pace we’d run out of peanut butter, milk and bread. Our days were planned out in intricate detail documented with what we could eat from that day to the end. Towards the end of our trip, our post-dinner discussions would involve vivid details of our favorite dishes and what we planned to eat once we got in the city. I felt like a prisoner of war, starving and incessantly fantasizing of food. We treasured our precious snacks and would call to attention whenever we were about to consume it. It was peculiar and intriguing how watching Taylor down a savory snack and then asking him how good it tasted delighted me.
You all know how much I love to eat anyway and how active of a life I lead. Out here we were a steady share of hard work and vigorous exercise on a daily basis. I’d made an effort heartily during Christmas break and before I left packed a solid 170 lbs. I weighed myself last week…152. Don’t fret though, I’m healthy, just devoid of any body fat. What appears to be a situation worthy of your sympathy is actually a blessing and builder of faith. God provided for us through various people and sources to give us our daily bread and we have been as appreciative and grateful in an unprecedented way.
Here are a few of the ways:
-The Lord has blessed us with relationships with locals in who have on a regular basis given us watermelons grown from their own gardens
-Creation itself: There are mango trees everywhere and we pick as many of the delicious fruits as we can. We love em!
-Newfound friends: one day some guys came to our door accompanied by a career missionary from another organization. We discovered they were U.S. military and embassy guys checking out the interior on a short trip. We met them at an Aukan wedding the next day and befriended them. They knew our situation and offered to give us MRE’s (Meal Ready to Eat) they had and wouldn’t be eating. We were delighted and ecstatic and they guys even invited us for dinner at their house when we head back to the city.
-A girl who is a Peace Corps volunteer was heading back Paramaribo and coming back offered to pick-up anything we needed. We took her up on it.
-our supervisor Ted surprised us by sending out bread and powdered milk one day.
The way it ended up, we used and needed every item given to us. We always praised God for each of these gifts and being that I was in Exodus for my devotional reading much of last month I couldn’t help but feel some real personal application when I read how God provided Manna and Quail for the Israelites and gave them only what they needed each day and nothing more. The Lord provided Manna for us and I have no doubt he will continue to do so.
When planning our meals we glossed over important nutritional and calorie packed foods. For instance, a half cup of tomato sauce for our spaghetti packs a mere 40 calories! Needless to say, spaghetti always left us wanting. Unfortunately, we don’t have a freezer so our chicken beef had to be consumed within the first few days. That gave us no real meat outside of canned tuna for the remaining 4 and-a-half weeks. We somehow thought that one oatmeal packet and a piece of bread was a sufficient breakfast.
We optimistically factored catching fish as part of our protein for some of our dinners.….we have yet to catch one fish (beyond small bait ones). We discovered that during this time of year when the water is high fishing is poor. We failed to factor in snacks for in between meals. In addition, with a fridge that works no more than twelve hours a day there began a race against mold on my bread. We somehow thought two jars of peanut butter: one small and one large would cut it. Needless to say, we found out quickly that at our normal (conservative) eating pace we’d run out of peanut butter, milk and bread. Our days were planned out in intricate detail documented with what we could eat from that day to the end. Towards the end of our trip, our post-dinner discussions would involve vivid details of our favorite dishes and what we planned to eat once we got in the city. I felt like a prisoner of war, starving and incessantly fantasizing of food. We treasured our precious snacks and would call to attention whenever we were about to consume it. It was peculiar and intriguing how watching Taylor down a savory snack and then asking him how good it tasted delighted me.
You all know how much I love to eat anyway and how active of a life I lead. Out here we were a steady share of hard work and vigorous exercise on a daily basis. I’d made an effort heartily during Christmas break and before I left packed a solid 170 lbs. I weighed myself last week…152. Don’t fret though, I’m healthy, just devoid of any body fat. What appears to be a situation worthy of your sympathy is actually a blessing and builder of faith. God provided for us through various people and sources to give us our daily bread and we have been as appreciative and grateful in an unprecedented way.
Here are a few of the ways:
-The Lord has blessed us with relationships with locals in who have on a regular basis given us watermelons grown from their own gardens
-Creation itself: There are mango trees everywhere and we pick as many of the delicious fruits as we can. We love em!
-Newfound friends: one day some guys came to our door accompanied by a career missionary from another organization. We discovered they were U.S. military and embassy guys checking out the interior on a short trip. We met them at an Aukan wedding the next day and befriended them. They knew our situation and offered to give us MRE’s (Meal Ready to Eat) they had and wouldn’t be eating. We were delighted and ecstatic and they guys even invited us for dinner at their house when we head back to the city.
-A girl who is a Peace Corps volunteer was heading back Paramaribo and coming back offered to pick-up anything we needed. We took her up on it.
-our supervisor Ted surprised us by sending out bread and powdered milk one day.
The way it ended up, we used and needed every item given to us. We always praised God for each of these gifts and being that I was in Exodus for my devotional reading much of last month I couldn’t help but feel some real personal application when I read how God provided Manna and Quail for the Israelites and gave them only what they needed each day and nothing more. The Lord provided Manna for us and I have no doubt he will continue to do so.
So Simple..and yet profound
It’s pretty well known to most folks that a missionary’s first months (and for some up to a year) are spent learning the language of their respective culture. For many, this is often a time of previously unknown frustration, timidity, and confusion in the realm of basic communication. It is also an inevitability that a language learner will commit more than a few humorous gaffes. The truth remains that you have to keep trying and make mistakes in order to improve. In all likelihood those around you will be quick to correct any major errors you commit or anything you’ve said offensive. Our language teacher Ba’Jepin was teaching us a few Aukan terms for using the restroom when he asked Taylor and I what do you call that?…... then uttered an ubiquitous (apparently) four-letter word with an unambiguous connotation familiar to any English speaker with innocence, curiosity and sincerity. We immediately rolled with laughter but were quick to tell him that that was an “ogii wootu”- a bad word and it would be advisable not to use it. While I have yet (at least to my knowledge) to make any major linguistical blunders I’m sure my time will come.
For Taylor and I “language school” has been a little more informal and unconventional than many of our colleagues in other parts of the world. Currently, a majority of our language learning is done at our house for three hours or so each day after breakfast and before lunch. We have two language teachers who can show up anytime on any day or not at all. (this is the norm as we quickly discovered). The rule is as follows: if they don’t come it’s expected and you move on to something else, if they show up, you stop everything and do language or whatever else with them for as long as they want to stay. Finding people to speak with isn’t difficult. We paddle across the river from our house in our canoe most days, buy freshly-baked bread and chat with people. In addition, our house often resembles a public park: people and especially kids come over at any and all times of the day to stare at us, plead to come into our house or play with them. Between periodic sessions with our language teachers, interactions with locals and hitting the English-Aukan dictionary we’ve come a long way in six weeks. Praise God!
Like most tribal languages, Aukan is a simple language in grammar, pronunciation and has a limited vocabulary. This makes it simple to learn and speak but can frustrate a guy like myself used to an English language containing over 500,000 words. One word often has up to ten meanings (not counting additional idioms) in Aukan. An example is the word Nyan. The meanings are as follows: to eat, to bite, to sting, to rot-off, eat away, corrode, to waste, hurt or pain, to enjoy, to celebrate, food, fruit, crop, meat of a fruit. While most words have fewer meanings than nyan the pattern remains. The biggest language peculiarity to us was the word Lobi. It has two meanings but they differ to a profound degree: to Love, to Like. We couldn’t understand how they can use the same word for such definitions as vastly different as loving vs. liking. I pondered (and continue to do so) how relationships work here when it comes to male-female communication. I’m glad I don’t have to explain what I really meant when I said, “mi lobi yu”. Anyway, I’ll leave it up to you to ponder some possible humorous scenarios.
One of the ways I’ve continued to learn Aukan is by using my Bible, the Aukan translation of the New Testament, and a dictionary to transliterate the headings of passages into English. What I found was the simplicity of the language gave surprisingly profound spiritual truths and perspectives. Here are some examples: Matthew 5:43 Love for Enemies is: Lobi den feyanti fi yu enke na yu mati translated as: Love your enemy as you would love your friend. Matthew 6, Giving to the needy is: yeepi taawan sondee fu suku balinen translated as: Helping all without seeking fame or notoriety. In Mark 16, the Aukan New Testament gives a few extra passage headings. In verse 15 it states: Masaa Jesesi gi den bakaman fi en wan gaan wooko, Jesus gives the Apostles one big task. There are countless examples of entire verses that will touch your heart to read them transliterated.
In learning a new language it’s easier to see the importance of sharing the gospel in a particular ethnic group’s native tongue and why it greatly amazed the diverse group at Pentecost in the first century to hear the word of God in their heart language. So I’m on my way to being proficient enough in Aukan to share Jesus and God-willing, very soon.
For Taylor and I “language school” has been a little more informal and unconventional than many of our colleagues in other parts of the world. Currently, a majority of our language learning is done at our house for three hours or so each day after breakfast and before lunch. We have two language teachers who can show up anytime on any day or not at all. (this is the norm as we quickly discovered). The rule is as follows: if they don’t come it’s expected and you move on to something else, if they show up, you stop everything and do language or whatever else with them for as long as they want to stay. Finding people to speak with isn’t difficult. We paddle across the river from our house in our canoe most days, buy freshly-baked bread and chat with people. In addition, our house often resembles a public park: people and especially kids come over at any and all times of the day to stare at us, plead to come into our house or play with them. Between periodic sessions with our language teachers, interactions with locals and hitting the English-Aukan dictionary we’ve come a long way in six weeks. Praise God!
Like most tribal languages, Aukan is a simple language in grammar, pronunciation and has a limited vocabulary. This makes it simple to learn and speak but can frustrate a guy like myself used to an English language containing over 500,000 words. One word often has up to ten meanings (not counting additional idioms) in Aukan. An example is the word Nyan. The meanings are as follows: to eat, to bite, to sting, to rot-off, eat away, corrode, to waste, hurt or pain, to enjoy, to celebrate, food, fruit, crop, meat of a fruit. While most words have fewer meanings than nyan the pattern remains. The biggest language peculiarity to us was the word Lobi. It has two meanings but they differ to a profound degree: to Love, to Like. We couldn’t understand how they can use the same word for such definitions as vastly different as loving vs. liking. I pondered (and continue to do so) how relationships work here when it comes to male-female communication. I’m glad I don’t have to explain what I really meant when I said, “mi lobi yu”. Anyway, I’ll leave it up to you to ponder some possible humorous scenarios.
One of the ways I’ve continued to learn Aukan is by using my Bible, the Aukan translation of the New Testament, and a dictionary to transliterate the headings of passages into English. What I found was the simplicity of the language gave surprisingly profound spiritual truths and perspectives. Here are some examples: Matthew 5:43 Love for Enemies is: Lobi den feyanti fi yu enke na yu mati translated as: Love your enemy as you would love your friend. Matthew 6, Giving to the needy is: yeepi taawan sondee fu suku balinen translated as: Helping all without seeking fame or notoriety. In Mark 16, the Aukan New Testament gives a few extra passage headings. In verse 15 it states: Masaa Jesesi gi den bakaman fi en wan gaan wooko, Jesus gives the Apostles one big task. There are countless examples of entire verses that will touch your heart to read them transliterated.
In learning a new language it’s easier to see the importance of sharing the gospel in a particular ethnic group’s native tongue and why it greatly amazed the diverse group at Pentecost in the first century to hear the word of God in their heart language. So I’m on my way to being proficient enough in Aukan to share Jesus and God-willing, very soon.
Friday, January 23, 2009
For now
Hey everyone, I'm leaving again for the interior, this time for six weeks. Me and Taylor should be back around March 4 and there will be plenty of blogs to post by then. You should check out the links below. Charles created these two videos from our first trip in. They're pretty sweet.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlEdR0n1K4Q
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxAAJtSZHJY
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hlEdR0n1K4Q
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LxAAJtSZHJY
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Lessons from a new culture
Preparing mentally for life in a new country with a culture much different from my own, I felt that I knew what to expect. I mean I read Foreign to Familiar (those from ILC, you know what I’m talking about) and had been lectured for two months on how to handle it all. And in some ways I was prepared. I understand that being “on time” is universally subjective to the individual and that long lines and poor customer service are just a way of life. But despite these seemingly fixable hindrances that when corrected would greatly increase efficiency, I saw a trait very much foreign to contemporary Americans and the West: patience.
A rash observer would miss the fact that in spite of what looks like a stressful disaster, everyone is content as can be. In fact, most seem happier waiting to get gas for hours than the family in the SUV in the states picking up fast food at the swiftest drive-thru in town. My supervisor Charles prefaced us on the first day we prepared to run errands by saying: “If you get one thing done on your list today count it a success”. Although we were able to get more than one task each day, I saw just how and why this maxim rings true. But as days went by I began to be amazed by people’s demeanor and attitude and how through their eyes, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.
The day we left to begin our voyage to the interior, pick-up time was 4:00 A.M., changed to 5:00 A.M. and we actually left around 6:00. When we got the port where we were going to pick-up a boat to ride upstream that day, the crew was slow loading the boat. As a result, the tide dropped and the boat was stuck on the shore. Consequently, we had to wait for the tide to rise and then waves came that made the water too choppy for ride. So the first night we spent grounded, sleeping under a tin roof with thirty hammocks strung up underneath. I thought someone might be upset about this but everyone was relaxed and chill. The biggest surprise to me was how there was never a demand for entertainment or amusement. Americans, especially younger ones would be squirming, whining, complaining about nothing to do. And you know what? There was nothing to do and that was okay. The next day our boat had about twelve passengers and we sat on a dreadfully uncomfortable 2x4 plank for twelve hours in the hot sun and I didn’t hear one grievance.
After a few more days in Ditabikki I was most impressed with the children’s behavior. For instance, our tutor Ba’Jepin’s eleven year old son Melvin accompanied him as he gave Taylor and I a language lesson for two-straight hours. Melvin sat patiently, listened, and didn’t even give his dad a tug to protest his being a spectator for most the night. Throughout my time in Suriname (and especially in the interior) I’ve seen a level of patience that pervades the culture. I have begun to learn how refreshing this is. I’ve even begun to appreciate that the subjective on-time concept can be a two-way street
Undoubtedly, I value my culture and I believe promptness has more benefits than detriments, but I’ve had a new appreciation for a “hot climate culture” and I think we in the U.S. could benefit immensely in the realm of health, family, and even our relationship with the Lord if we heeded some of these principles. Sometimes we can be preoccupied and overbooked and in reality get nothing done because we miss what often really matters our relationship with God and other people. There’s a reason the Lord said: “be still and know that I am God”.
A rash observer would miss the fact that in spite of what looks like a stressful disaster, everyone is content as can be. In fact, most seem happier waiting to get gas for hours than the family in the SUV in the states picking up fast food at the swiftest drive-thru in town. My supervisor Charles prefaced us on the first day we prepared to run errands by saying: “If you get one thing done on your list today count it a success”. Although we were able to get more than one task each day, I saw just how and why this maxim rings true. But as days went by I began to be amazed by people’s demeanor and attitude and how through their eyes, it really wasn’t that big of a deal.
The day we left to begin our voyage to the interior, pick-up time was 4:00 A.M., changed to 5:00 A.M. and we actually left around 6:00. When we got the port where we were going to pick-up a boat to ride upstream that day, the crew was slow loading the boat. As a result, the tide dropped and the boat was stuck on the shore. Consequently, we had to wait for the tide to rise and then waves came that made the water too choppy for ride. So the first night we spent grounded, sleeping under a tin roof with thirty hammocks strung up underneath. I thought someone might be upset about this but everyone was relaxed and chill. The biggest surprise to me was how there was never a demand for entertainment or amusement. Americans, especially younger ones would be squirming, whining, complaining about nothing to do. And you know what? There was nothing to do and that was okay. The next day our boat had about twelve passengers and we sat on a dreadfully uncomfortable 2x4 plank for twelve hours in the hot sun and I didn’t hear one grievance.
After a few more days in Ditabikki I was most impressed with the children’s behavior. For instance, our tutor Ba’Jepin’s eleven year old son Melvin accompanied him as he gave Taylor and I a language lesson for two-straight hours. Melvin sat patiently, listened, and didn’t even give his dad a tug to protest his being a spectator for most the night. Throughout my time in Suriname (and especially in the interior) I’ve seen a level of patience that pervades the culture. I have begun to learn how refreshing this is. I’ve even begun to appreciate that the subjective on-time concept can be a two-way street
Undoubtedly, I value my culture and I believe promptness has more benefits than detriments, but I’ve had a new appreciation for a “hot climate culture” and I think we in the U.S. could benefit immensely in the realm of health, family, and even our relationship with the Lord if we heeded some of these principles. Sometimes we can be preoccupied and overbooked and in reality get nothing done because we miss what often really matters our relationship with God and other people. There’s a reason the Lord said: “be still and know that I am God”.
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Power to trample on snakes and scorpions....
Often there is a verse/verses in the Bible that you’ll read and often wonder if that will ever have any application to your life. Then one day an event occurs and it becomes clear that there isn’t a thing in the world that could have been said better to relate to what you’ve experienced. I’ve been in Suriname for an eventful two weeks and have been blessed beyond measure.
I got back to the city Wednesday after spending a week in the interior jungle 100 miles upriver from Paramaribo. Taylor and I will be spending most of our time in a village called Diitabiki during our next 6 months here. Our supervisor Charles was with us getting us oriented before he left last night to head back to the U.S. where he is on furlough till June. Our trip to the interior consisted of taking a motor boat two days upstream to Diitabiki, staying in the village and visiting believers and other contacts he has made during his seven years there. We then flew back home on a Cessna 206 airplane. We will be flying back to Diitabiki on Saturday and will stay there until March 4. We got a taste of everything we’ll be doing in the next two years: visiting villages, building relationships, discipling, evangelism, storying etc.
We were also quickly introduced to the physical and spiritual treachery that lies there. One afternoon last week we visited a village where Charles wanted to see some Christians he knew from there. During this time there was an Aukan funeral procession. Funerals in this culture are extremely dark and demonic and we wouldn’t have gone were there not people he had to see. It was a paradoxical situation because we’re on the outside of the village talking with new believers who have forsaken paganism and witchcraft to follow Christ all the while within view is a disturbing sight: A frenzied group had grabbed a sharp machete and was grasping the razor edge tugging back and forth. There should have been blood and men with sliced hands but everyone remained unscathed. There were men who looked demon possessed convulsing and mumbling chants. I asked Charles later how they didn’t get seriously hurt and he said during that particular ceremony they fight over a machete to see who will be possessed by spirits; demons give them power to remain unharmed.
Even during this time God protected us from Satan’s power and we were in fellowship with others who had come into the truth and away from a life of fear and spiritual oppression. The next day we were in our yard cleaning up and Charles and I stumbled upon a poisonous viper in the high grass. The snake was in the spot we were about to step but Charles saw it and we backed off, got a shovel and machete and killed it. Later that night one passage came to mind which the Lord used to encourage, comfort, and strengthen our faith. Luke 10: 19 “I have given you power to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” Being where I am, this particular verse was the right word at the right time and is evidence of the living and active nature of the Bible. I know there were dangers the Lord protected us from that we never knew were there but he also showed us in two situations exactly what perils he rescued us from.
I got back to the city Wednesday after spending a week in the interior jungle 100 miles upriver from Paramaribo. Taylor and I will be spending most of our time in a village called Diitabiki during our next 6 months here. Our supervisor Charles was with us getting us oriented before he left last night to head back to the U.S. where he is on furlough till June. Our trip to the interior consisted of taking a motor boat two days upstream to Diitabiki, staying in the village and visiting believers and other contacts he has made during his seven years there. We then flew back home on a Cessna 206 airplane. We will be flying back to Diitabiki on Saturday and will stay there until March 4. We got a taste of everything we’ll be doing in the next two years: visiting villages, building relationships, discipling, evangelism, storying etc.
We were also quickly introduced to the physical and spiritual treachery that lies there. One afternoon last week we visited a village where Charles wanted to see some Christians he knew from there. During this time there was an Aukan funeral procession. Funerals in this culture are extremely dark and demonic and we wouldn’t have gone were there not people he had to see. It was a paradoxical situation because we’re on the outside of the village talking with new believers who have forsaken paganism and witchcraft to follow Christ all the while within view is a disturbing sight: A frenzied group had grabbed a sharp machete and was grasping the razor edge tugging back and forth. There should have been blood and men with sliced hands but everyone remained unscathed. There were men who looked demon possessed convulsing and mumbling chants. I asked Charles later how they didn’t get seriously hurt and he said during that particular ceremony they fight over a machete to see who will be possessed by spirits; demons give them power to remain unharmed.
Even during this time God protected us from Satan’s power and we were in fellowship with others who had come into the truth and away from a life of fear and spiritual oppression. The next day we were in our yard cleaning up and Charles and I stumbled upon a poisonous viper in the high grass. The snake was in the spot we were about to step but Charles saw it and we backed off, got a shovel and machete and killed it. Later that night one passage came to mind which the Lord used to encourage, comfort, and strengthen our faith. Luke 10: 19 “I have given you power to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you. However, do not rejoice that the spirits submit to you, but rejoice that your names are written in heaven.” Being where I am, this particular verse was the right word at the right time and is evidence of the living and active nature of the Bible. I know there were dangers the Lord protected us from that we never knew were there but he also showed us in two situations exactly what perils he rescued us from.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
From Suriname
I'm here. I wish I had more time to write a longer blog but I'm heading out to the jungle after three days of orientation here in Paramaribo. It has been awesome since arrival, I guess you can call it the "honeymoon stage" so hopefully it lasts as long as possible. I'll have much more to write about in a week after visiting the Auken people and living in interior. We leave tommorrow morning at five A.M. and ride in a boat for three days visiting various tribes that our supervisor had helped when a flood ravaged the area seven months ago. The weather here is awesome right now, warm rain, temperatures around 80 degrees. A far cry from the frigid temps of my last two residences. keep praying for me and I'll update this thing when I get a chance.
Thursday, January 1, 2009
The uncomfortable nest
There was a time in my life when coming home brought the greatest degree of comfort and consolation. In fact, I remember being homesick and being in tears on the bus to science camp in the sixth grade. I also recall how hard it was the first time I was away from my family when I went to boy scout camp for seven days. I hope this is a surprise to you readers, but I even remember being in tears some nights when the thought of my parents being gone to Uruguay for two weeks on a mission trip in 1999 came to my mind because I would be away from them. Maybe a lot of it was due to adolescence and the emotional roller coasters one often rides during that time or maybe I just had a good family life and didn't feel the urge to get away from them.
Fast forward ten years and here I am at 23, on the eve of my departure for life in a foreign country and a completely new culture. I wouldn't have imagined even two years ago that I would be doing something like this after graduating college. The amount of time being away from home and friends and family would have been a major deterrent to me pursuing such a path. It's interesting how the Lord works things out in your life that you would never see coming or plan by yourself. As I look back over the last two and a half years when I first left home to finish my junior and senior years of college I see how my home became less like home both purposefully and incidentally.
After being home now for two weeks in a new house where I no longer even have a room to claim as my own I feel like a stranger in many ways. I have been sleeping on the floor in our living room with the other three rooms occupied by my brother, sister, and parents. The kitchen is rearranged differently so I find myself opening and closing every drawer and cabinet trying to find a spoon and bowl to eat cereal. But beyond the foreigness of the layout of the house, my mom is the humorous and influential factor making this "nest" progressively more uncomfortable.
Throughout this short break my mom has lamented the fact that I don't know where to find anything in the and how I have "made a mess of the whole house". I consider myself a pretty clean guy and if I was grading my cleanliness on the curve for people my age I'd be in the B+-A range. My mom has even confessed to being neurotic and and obsessive compulsive about cleanliness but this confession hasn't curbed her intensity. Those of you who know me willl understand this grievance: my appetite. Mom has consistently expressed her frustration with how much I eat (she may have a legitimate case) and how much she has had to spend on food since my sister and (mostly) I have been home. My best defense has been: "come on mom I'm only here for a few more days". This plea has also not aleviated the grief I've gotten.
All this to say that what I've taken from all this is that its the right time to go. Don't get me wrong I have had an awesome time with the family and wouldn't trade this short break for anything. But I realize that whether my parents have consciously or subconsciously tried to encourage me to move out I have made the realization that living on my own away from home is the right thing. Despite some of the annoyance that it brings, I've given to thought to how unhealthy it would be if the converse were true and home was too welcoming and comfortable. The likely consequence would be that I might be hesitant to do something like the Journeyman program. So I guess I have to say thanks to mom for indirectly inspiring me to pursue a path outside the four walls I'm in right now.
Fast forward ten years and here I am at 23, on the eve of my departure for life in a foreign country and a completely new culture. I wouldn't have imagined even two years ago that I would be doing something like this after graduating college. The amount of time being away from home and friends and family would have been a major deterrent to me pursuing such a path. It's interesting how the Lord works things out in your life that you would never see coming or plan by yourself. As I look back over the last two and a half years when I first left home to finish my junior and senior years of college I see how my home became less like home both purposefully and incidentally.
After being home now for two weeks in a new house where I no longer even have a room to claim as my own I feel like a stranger in many ways. I have been sleeping on the floor in our living room with the other three rooms occupied by my brother, sister, and parents. The kitchen is rearranged differently so I find myself opening and closing every drawer and cabinet trying to find a spoon and bowl to eat cereal. But beyond the foreigness of the layout of the house, my mom is the humorous and influential factor making this "nest" progressively more uncomfortable.
Throughout this short break my mom has lamented the fact that I don't know where to find anything in the and how I have "made a mess of the whole house". I consider myself a pretty clean guy and if I was grading my cleanliness on the curve for people my age I'd be in the B+-A range. My mom has even confessed to being neurotic and and obsessive compulsive about cleanliness but this confession hasn't curbed her intensity. Those of you who know me willl understand this grievance: my appetite. Mom has consistently expressed her frustration with how much I eat (she may have a legitimate case) and how much she has had to spend on food since my sister and (mostly) I have been home. My best defense has been: "come on mom I'm only here for a few more days". This plea has also not aleviated the grief I've gotten.
All this to say that what I've taken from all this is that its the right time to go. Don't get me wrong I have had an awesome time with the family and wouldn't trade this short break for anything. But I realize that whether my parents have consciously or subconsciously tried to encourage me to move out I have made the realization that living on my own away from home is the right thing. Despite some of the annoyance that it brings, I've given to thought to how unhealthy it would be if the converse were true and home was too welcoming and comfortable. The likely consequence would be that I might be hesitant to do something like the Journeyman program. So I guess I have to say thanks to mom for indirectly inspiring me to pursue a path outside the four walls I'm in right now.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
