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.
Sunday, April 26, 2009
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.
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