On Ahmaud Arbery and the Status Quo

The prosecution of George Zimmerman was my “trial of the century”.

To be honest, my recollection is not vivid. I recall hearing a great deal about the nature of self-defense, the merits of Floridian stand-your-ground laws and castle doctrine, and the function of neighborhood watches. I also remember extensive coverage dedicated to the criminal record of Trayvon Martin, which, although irrelevant, led this impressionable young white man to believe that, perhaps, he was asking for it after all.

I remember Zimmerman’s acquittal.

For me personally, this case established a precedent and fostered my awareness of a pattern which has come to dominate modern race relations; one which I now realize has predated my lifetime by centuries at least. It shaped and informed my perception of how these atrocities would and ought to unfold: a young African American man is shot or stabbed or strangled in the middle of the street in broad daylight, and the only justification necessary for the full legal vindication of the responsible party is an ambiguous and unsubstantiated contention that he was afraid, based on virtually nothing at all.

Thus, I learned that in the United States you are innocent until proven guilty, unless you are black. If you are black, you are merely guilty, and it is a crime for which you may be summarily executed by any agent or civilian in any park, crosswalk, or front lawn across the nation. And so people of color have perished around me in droves, and their killers have walked before my very eyes. And, somehow, I have grown used to it.

Make no mistake: I may be young, but I am old enough. I am old enough to know the names of Tamir Rice, Michael Brown, Freddie Gray, Eric Garner, Walter Scott, Philando Castile, and dozens of others. I am old enough that a sense of numbed resignation persists in the void where wrath and grief ought to be instead. I am old enough that each and every murder is now accompanied by a heavy sigh, a déjà vu, a “here we go again”. I am old enough that I am no longer shocked to learn of conspiracy and coverup on the part of local politicians and governing officials, and no longer surprised that it necessitates incontrovertible video documentation to secure an arrest and charges. I am old enough to have witnessed and observed as each of these homicidal incidents and their subsequent suppression and concealment was accepted simply as a fact of life — the status quo — rather than a newsworthy headline featuring astonishing acts of cowardice and barbarity.

As I have grown up, I have discovered my own role in this ancient tale and, in doing so, I have also encountered my own accountability. To be clear, I am not guilty of perpetrating acts of vitriol and violence against my fellow man. I am not guilty of the prejudice and hate which so often characterize and define these occurrences. Rather, my guilt lies in forgetting; in fanning the flames of my outrage and sorrow just long enough to feel righteous again; in returning, once more, to complacency and apathy when my anger subsides; in going back to normal once it is over.

Or perhaps it lies in allowing myself to believe that it is over at all.

Institutional racism operates on levels which are both experiential and systemic. Much of it has been obvious, salient, and categorical; evinced over the duration of centuries of economic, political, and philosophical practices which have comprised the slave trade, segregation and the Jim Crow South, redlining and gerrymandering, discriminatory judicial policy and procedure, the school-to-prison pipeline, and the perpetuation of wealth and resource disparity. These abuses and injustices, upon which many of our societal structures are predicated, are antithetical to the values which this nation ostensibly espouses, and they have placed minority communities and individuals at a distinct disadvantage from the moment of their birth.

Still other manifestations are not so readily evident, only becoming apparent in the course of sober and deliberate reflection. In this moment, I consider my own privilege: the privilege of moving about freely without fearing for my life; of going where I want, doing what I desire, saying what I think, looking how I wish, and being who I am without worrying about unwarranted and austere repercussions; of walking, jogging, and driving along the road without facing a clear and present threat for daring to exist; of being subjected to multiple traffic stops and engaged in numerous interactions with police officers and law enforcement without ever wondering if I was about to draw my last breath even as I complied with every order.

Mississippi Burning, which recounts the FBI investigation of the prominent murders of several civil rights activists in 1964, has been one of my favorite movies since I first saw it years ago. In high school, I celebrated the film because it demonstrates the advancement of civil rights, racial equality, and criminal justice reform in the United States. Now, it serves as a reminder: a reminder that hate is real, often pervasive, and seemingly ubiquitous; a reminder that we have still so far to trod; a reminder that progress, although possible, will be require difficult work, vulnerable accountability, and honest evaluation of ourselves and those around us; a reminder that we cannot afford to wait to achieve it because the lives of innocent men, women, and children — our neighbors, friends, and kin — are on the line.

A Resignation and Things Yet to Come

It is with no small amount of sadness that I announce my formal resignation from World Horizons USA, effective January 1st, 2020.

I have participated in vocational ministry with World Horizons for more than three years, serving as Staff Writer and Executive Assistant to the Director in the U.S. office and working in various capacities as a winemaker, coffee roaster, barista, and language student in the Mediterranean, Central Asia, and the Middle East.  Many of the most impactful and formative experiences of my life have occurred as a result of my engagement with this organization.  

A series of personally devastating and traumatic events which have unfolded and developed over the last year has caused me to reevaluate my present position and purpose, both with World Horizons and in cross-cultural ministry in general.  As a result of both these painful experiences and the subsequent lack of resolution to deeply hurtful circumstances, it is time that I step away from both the institution and from occupational ministry.   

I am deeply thankful for what I have learned and gained in the course of partnering with World Horizons in the valuable work of sharing the gospel of Christ.  I do not consider the time, effort, and resources I have poured into this ministry to be a waste.  I will always count the people I have been privileged to meet among my friends, and I happily anticipate maintaining relationships which far supersede the professional boundaries of our work.    

To those who have followed and supported me, both spiritually and financially, I want to thank you for your generosity, love, and grace.  You have been an invaluable source of comfort and security in these uncertain and trying times, and I will be forever grateful.

While this marks the end of a significant chapter of my life, it is not the end of my professional pursuit of writing and of coffee, nor does it mark the close of my dedication to a lifestyle of ministry.  Today is not merely a sorrowful conclusion, but a new beginning, carrying with it all of the fresh aspirations, exhilarating opportunities, and exciting possibilities that new beginnings do. 

EDIT: Distaunce – A Consideration of Familiarity and Distance

~An article for World Horizons USA~

Have you ever written or said the same word over and over again until it began to sound absurd?  Have you ever read a textbook for five minutes before realizing that you have failed to comprehend a single word?

Corey Frey’s exhibition EDIT: Distaunce focuses on the ostensibly dichotomous concepts of distance and familiarity.  Frey’s fundamental assertion is that, though the two may seem intrinsically at odds, it is distance which can, if properly implemented, supply us with a greater degree of familiarity.  On the surface, this position appears to be paradoxical.  However, upon closer inspection, it seems to carry some legitimacy.

According to the MRC Cognition and Brain Sciences Unit at Cambridge University, “the human mind does not read every letter by itself, [but rather] the word as a whole”.  Frey argues that this fact demonstrates the reality that increased distance from the individual components which constitute words actually offers a heightened sense of familiarity.  At a glance, words are recognizable and easy to perceive and interpret.  It is only after thorough examination and scrutiny that we begin to realize that we are not as familiar with the makeup words as we might think.

And conversely, we have all experienced those moments wherein it seems impossible to absorb and grasp an assigned reading.  Sometimes, after taking several passes at the same page for ten minutes, it is best to put the book down and come back to it later.  In these instances, it seems that we are so familiar with words that we develop the capacity to merely skim the content without taking the time or making the effort to truly digest and understand it.  Simply put: our absolute familiarity with the words on the page can actually distance us from their meaning and the message which they are attempting to convey.

In this fashion, Frey maintains that distance and familiarity are not mutually exclusive or antithetical to one another; familiarity can yield some amount of withdrawal, and altering our perspective can cultivate and produce a renewed sense of intimacy.  Frey proceeds to contend that this practice has application to endeavors beyond those of reading and writing.  Faith is one of these.    

Frey maintains that “God isn’t simply interested in nearness, but as an act of grace will take us through or allow things so that we don’t settle… Often this move from one to the other happens through a distancing — not an actual distancing from God, but one that can feel like it because we are being moved away from comfortable, self-made notions of God we’ve created”.  Frey’s show contains a gentle warning: unchecked and untempered familiarity fosters complacency and, as a result, we run the risk of becoming estranged by our own safety and comfort.  Sometimes, stepping back and evaluating the world around us from new, unfamiliar, and even challenging positions can sharpen and reinvigorate our connection to the places and people who surround us and to the God who created us. 

Photograph of Corey Frey by Bill Bangham

Focus: Refugees

~An article for the World Horizons USA~

Imagine, for just a moment, that your home and earthly possessions have been destroyed, your life has been threatened, and the safety of your family has been put at chronic risk as a result of ongoing gang activity and military conflict.

For millions of men, women, and children around the world, this is no product of the imagination. It is reality. In fact, according to the United Nations Refugee Agency in a 2019 report, more than thirty people are violently displaced every minute. In the time it will take for you to read this article, as many as 150 people will lose the security of their homes.

The refugee crisis is perhaps the definitive international emergency of our time. It begs for our action and attention. Research published by the United Nations this year evinced the reality that almost 71 million people have been forcibly displaced worldwide. Of these 71 million individuals, about 30 million of them are refugees and 3.5 million are asylum-seekers.

A study conducted by World Vision found that a significant number of these refugees and asylum-seekers originate in the Middle East (Syria and Afghanistan top the list annually, and the ongoing civil war in Yemen has recently vaulted the nation into this category as well), Central and Eastern Africa (Sudan, South Sudan, Somalia, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo routinely make the top ten), and South and Central America (notably from Venezuela due to governmental corruption and collapse, and from Colombia as a result of perpetual gang and drug-related activity). This is clearly a deep and systemic issue which afflicts nations and people groups all around the globe, leaving entire communities with no choice but to escape their present circumstances.

How do we respond to the tragedy unfolding before our very eyes? In light of the millions of innocents compelled to flee their homes and lands, how can we tangibly demonstrate the love of Christ to those who have suffered complete devastation and total loss?

The Scriptural ordinance is explicit and incontrovertible. Leviticus 19:34 instructs the people of God to “treat the foreigner as native-born, lov[ing] him as you love yourself”. Proverbs 31:8-9 mandates the execution of justice on behalf of the oppressed, directing us to “open [our] mouth[s] for the mute, for the rights of all who are destitute… Judge righteously, defend the rights of the poor and needy”. Malachi 3:1 warns austerely that “the messenger will bear witness against those who thrust aside the alien”.

We can fulfill our moral obligation and Biblical responsibility to loving refugees as we love ourselves in numerous ways. Some of these ways are obvious: financial donations to and volunteer work with charitable organizations which exist to facilitate resettlement in the United States go a long way towards promoting the well-being of those in search of stability and peace. Many institutions which serve to assist refugees and asylees in obtaining legal documents, connecting to aid programs, learning language and English comprehension, and sharing their stories in public forums are doing valuable work to ensure that refugees and asylees adjust, flourish, and thrive in this foreign country.

But perhaps the single most potent and efficacious step we can take is to open our hearts to total empathy: making ourselves present and available to our refugee neighbors, understanding them and listening to their testimonies, weeping with them in their sorrows, rejoicing with them in their successes and accomplishments, and praying with and for them as they grieve, recover, and rebuild their lives.

A few years ago, while on assignment with a small team in Cairo, Egypt, I had the pleasure of spending a considerable amount of time with refugee men, women, and children from Syria, Sudan, Somalia, and Afghanistan. One afternoon, we invited several of the younger children to engage in an art project with us. We offered each child a small swath of canvas, and asked them to paint an answer to the query “who is your neighbor?”. Their responses were breathtaking and sobering. Many of their images depicted gruesome scenes of terror and brutality. One of the artworks haunts me still today: it portrayed a mother weeping as her child bleeds to death in her arms; a single fighter jet soars by overhead, strafing the flaming rooftops which surround the two figures. The child who delicately and deliberately crafted this image was only six years old. I thanked her for her contribution, left the room to find solitude, and wept.

I could discuss and delineate the legitimate merits of open border policy, and make a cogent case that governments have absolutely no rightful role in regulating or restricting the free flow of human migration. I could argue for the abolition of U.S. Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) and the dissolution of detention camps; I could appeal to the writ of habeas corpus as a recourse to secure the immediate release and compensation of those who have been so incarcerated. I could contend that drastic reforms and restructuring of the U.S. immigration system are in order. I could assert that refugees and asylees are legally extended the same constitutional privileges as any citizen of the United States of America.

Instead, on this World Refugee Day, I will merely reflect upon the fact that all people are created equal and are thus intrinsically endowed with and afforded fundamental rights without regard to their race, ethnicity, nation of origin, present location, or intended destination. I will reflect upon the fashion in which the dignity, worth, and idiosyncratic nature embodied by each and every refugee enriches and strengthens our collective culture. I will reflect upon the importance of practicing, above all else, the politics, philosophy, and theology of compassion.

Today, let us take time to meditate upon the documented plight of Christ the refugee: a child who narrowly eluded death at the hands of King Herod by crossing into Egypt (Matthew 2), and the holy Incarnation who took on the foreign flesh of man. Let us remember that our Savior loves and longs for refugees and asylees with every ounce of the fierce passion with which He loves and longs for us. Let us close our mouths and open our ears to the accounts of strong, precious people who have endured unimaginable chaos and destruction. And let us commit, with our resources and with our hearts, to doing all that we can to show our displaced brothers and sisters that they are loved, valued, and welcome among us, accepted as our very own.

Photos courtesy of National Geographic, SBS, The New Republic, and Independent.ie respectively

Language Learning: a Lesson in Humility

~An article for World Horizons USA~

Language learning is indispensable to and a fundamental aspect of healthy, successful cross-cultural ministry. It is a task which ought to be tackled with the utmost sincerity and dedication. But it is also embarrassing and, at times, completely ridiculous and totally hilarious.

The first language I studied thoroughly and learned to speak efficiently was Spanish. I took Spanish courses all throughout high school, and continued learning after I graduated. I was fairly articulate and, as a result, I was also fairly confident. Too confident.

When I visited Mexico in 2014, many of my friends wanted to know where and how I had acquired the ability to speak Spanish. I informed them that I had studied Spanish through an online institution entitled Veritas Press. The mascot of Veritas Press is a griffon, a majestic and mythological creature that appears to be a hybrid of a lion and an eagle. As members of Veritas Press, my classmates and I were proud griffons, or, as you might say in Spanish, “somos los grifos!” (“we are the griffons!”).

What I didn’t know was that the word “grifo” (which literally translates to the English “griffon”) is a slang in Mexico that is frequently used in reference to drug dealers and users. My declaration of school pride had manifested as a criminal confession; “soy un grifo!”: “I am a drug dealer!”.

Fortunately for me, my friends found this more amusing than intimidating, and we all had a good laugh over it. But it was far from the last language mistake I would ever make.

Last year, when I moved to the Middle East to work with a World Horizons team, I spent about four months in language school. I also hired a tutor to increase the pace and efficacy of my language retention. One day, my language helper asked me a series of personal questions which I was not permitted to answer in English. One of those inquiries was “when you are in the United States, what do you do?”. In a hasty attempt to describe my job at a local grocery store in Richmond where I worked at the time, I mixed up a series of words and complex structures which culminated in the following declaration: “When I’m home in the states, I urinate in the marketplace!”. Whoops.

Once again, my mistake was handled with grace, delicacy, and more than a little laughter, but it is not a moment that I will soon forget.

Language learning is a useful tool for cultivating connections and understanding other peoples and communities. By learning foreign languages, I have observed as my capacity to thrive and flourish in another cultural context has increased. I have also characterized myself as an incontinent drug dealer, so I suppose the moral of the story is that language learning ought to be approached with a degree of humility and no small amount of humor.

The Times They Are a-Changin’

~An article for World Horizons USA ~

Change is hard.

It is often good. But it is difficult nonetheless.

We all know this. In fact, it is arguably one of the greatest maxims of our time. Change is simultaneously rewarding and yet challenging, refreshing and yet exhausting, desired and yet dreaded. Sometimes, change can lead to the overwhelming realization that, to quote Bob Dylan, “the present now will later be past; the order is rapidly fading”. Change is inevitably accompanied by the dissolution of familiar systems and structures, and thus necessitates dedicated and gritty work towards the process of progress.

World Horizons USA has been undergoing a lot of change in the last year.  Our staff and personnel have been significantly altered, as coworkers and friends have departed to pursue various opportunities and as others have joined in our work.  Currently, our staff members sit, work, laugh, speak, and dream together in an entirely different location than we did just a few months ago; our new office and gallery are across town in a still unfamiliar neighborhood.  Some of our focuses, attitudes, methods, and manners of thinking have also been evolving with time as we have explored our role in international ministry in conjunction with the local church at home and abroad.

Some of these adjustments have been beneficial and fulfilling. Others have been difficult and disheartening. And yet, in all of them, the Lord has made His presence known to us.

In all of the turmoil and turbulence of the significant shifts in our surroundings, we have been afforded opportunities to learn, grow, and improve. We have been granted incredible opportunities which we may never have obtained without change. We have been privileged to get to know new people as they have come alongside our ministry and served with us. We have also enjoyed the successes of those who have moved on from World Horizons USA to work in other fields. We have had the chance to get to know our new neighbors who surround our office.

Perhaps most important, we have been reminded of and comforted by the steadfast character of our Savior, who is the same “yesterday, today, and forever” (Hebrews 13:8).  We have been sustained by the blessings of our Father, who “does not change like shifting shadows” (James 1:17).  In spite of the unplanned circumstances we have weathered and the uncertain nature of the steps we have taken to begin new initiatives, we have been emboldened and revitalized by the promises of a Lord who goes before us and will never forsake us (Deuteronomy 31:8).

Change is hard.  But we are grateful.   

Able, Worthy, Renewed

~An article for World Horizons USA~

Often, I am overwhelmed by my own inadequacy.  

This is not so much because I regard myself as particularly poor or unrighteous, but more a result of the magnitude of the privilege and responsibility that is serving God.  When I consider my role in working with the international church, I am sometimes reminded of the many times and ways in which I have been derelict in demonstrating the love and grace of Christ. Recollections of past failures surface, and doubts arise. Beyond my individual and personal failings, I become discouraged by my ostensible incapabilities: language learning is complicated, adjusting to new and foreign cultures is difficult, and a life devoted to ministry of any kind can be rigorous and exhausting. Am I really prepared for this? Am I good enough?

It is in these dark moments of uncertainty that God assuages my fearful spirit and faithfully supplies encouragement through both His Scriptures and through the people who surround me.  Recently, as I weighed aspects of my incompetence and wondered if I was truly cut out to follow Christ among all nations, I was reminded of a very similar struggle which afflicted many of God’s people throughout His word.

I recalled the commissioning of Moses, who balked at the daunting notion of confronting Pharaoh Ahmose I, insisting that “I have never been eloquent, neither in the past nor since you spoke to [me].  I am slow of speech and tongue” (Exodus 4:10). And yet the Lord used the ministry of Moses in a mighty manner. Because Moses was devoted to God’s calling and commands in spite of his perceived insufficiency, the Lord’s people were led out of captivity and, ultimately, into the freedom of a land they could at last call their own.  Moses didn’t feel worthy, but God made him so.

Gideon came to mind.  A man who lived a life steeped in hereditary irrelevance, Gideon deemed greatness far beyond his reach. When the Lord visited Gideon and instructed him to take charge of the armies of the Israelites and drive out the occupying foes, Gideon protested, “How can I rescue Israel?  My clan is the weakest in the tribe of Manasseh, and I am the least important member of my family” (Judges 6:15). And yet Gideon, through the unwavering strength of God, masterminded one of the most decisive military victories in the history of ancient Israel, routing the Midianite forces in a dramatic upset which liberated the land.  Gideon didn’t feel worthy, but God made him so.

I remembered the visions of Isaiah, who yearned so desperately to serve the Lord wholeheartedly, and yet despaired when confronted by the task: “Woe is me, I am doomed!  For I am a man of unclean lips… and my eyes have seen the King, the Lord almighty” (Isaiah 6:5). Because of his steadfast commitment and because of the atoning mercy of God, Isaiah, the man of unclean lips, uttered beauty and power: words which shook the foundations of a nation and which foreshadowed the coming of the Savior of Man.  Isaiah didn’t feel worthy, but God made him so.

I thought of the apostle Paul, the prototypical missionary and author of almost a full third of our New Testament.  In his first letter to the Corinthians, Paul declared, “For I am the least of the apostles and do not even deserve to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God” (1 Corinthians 15:9).  Though perhaps perpetually plagued by guilt for his past misdeeds, Paul played a vital part in the expansion and growth of the early church into uncharted territories. Paul didn’t feel worthy, but God made him so.

In addition to these tales of heroic acts and daring deeds in the face of apprehensions and against the odds, a sermon by my good friend Rev. Sterling Severns reminded me of the unfailing grace of God in working powerfully through those who regularly wrestle with personal misgivings.  Rev. Severns remarked, “The Great Commission which we have been given is an opportunity to take the gospel into a world where the gospel already exists. Whether we think we are capable of not, whether we think we have enough understanding to go… none of it matters. Because God is going to see to it that the gospel is carried forward into the world to every corner”. Rev. Severns continued, “We are called to pick up our feet and go, with the understanding that it is with the authority of Jesus that we go. So go and trust that He is going to give you what you need in order to take this gospel to the world that is already experiencing it in the most blessed and mysterious of ways”.

The Lord doesn’t seek out and call the best, the strongest, or the most qualified.  Rather, Christ bids us to follow Him, and through our faith and His goodness, He qualifies us by the work of the Holy Spirit.

I do not always feel worthy, but God has made me so.
 

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; old things have passed away; behold, all things have become new.

– 2 Corinthians 5:17

Weeping With Our Brothers and Sisters

~An article for World Horizons USA~

As the death toll from last month’s Easter Sunday bombings in Sri Lanka surpasses 250 men, women, and children, we mourn with the church and with the nation of Sri Lanka.  This unspeakable loss of life causes us to reflect on our role in loving and supporting our brothers and sisters in communities around the world, both within the church and outside of it.

We remember that the authors of Scripture grieved deeply and unashamedly, freely voicing their sorrow and anguish to a Father who implores us to “cast all of our cares upon Him” (1 Peter 5:7).  We recall the promises of God’s Word to the physically, emotionally, and spiritually afflicted; that He is “close to the brokenhearted” (Psalm 34:18), that He blesses those who mourn and pledges His comfort (Matthew 5:4), and that, in the very end, He will “wipe away every tear” and do away with “mourning, crying, and pain” (Revelation 21:4).

But today is not the end, and so tears remain.  The present persistence of pain urges us to reach out to those who are stumbling under the weight of grief.  And so, in humble solidarity, we seek to “bear one another’s burdens” (Galatians 6:2) because the love and compassion of Christ compels us to do so.    

We acknowledge the utter and permanent impact of the devastation inflicted upon the victims of this event, and we recognize our personal inadequacy in healing or repairing broken lives and hearts.  We do not seek to understand this occurrence, nor do we seek to offer untimely and unwise explanations as to how it may strengthen. Rather than offer absolute reassurances or trite guarantees, we come alongside those who are suffering through prayer and through presence. Sometimes, this requires words and actions. At others, this support is manifested in our sober silence and stillness.

Scripture supplies ample room for the expression of confusion, of anger, and of hurt before a Creator who weeps with us (John 11:35).   We must never brush aside the pain of our brothers and sisters around the world for the sake of convenience or ease, nor must we dismiss their despondency in the name of our strength and unquenchable joy.  Instead, we bless those who mourn and we plead for their relief.

Our prayer today is that the Lord will be tangibly near to the people of Sri Lanka.  Our prayer is that His love might be known to those who can find no answers. Our prayer is that the justice, grace, and peace of Christ, the “Man of all Sorrows”, may pervade even the tragedies of a wounded world.  Our prayer is for light in the sometimes vast darkness. Our prayer is for the restoration of souls and the alleviation of heartache. More than anything, our prayer today is “Kyrie eleison”: “Lord, have mercy”.

The Man of all Sorrows
He never forgot
What sorrow is carried
By the hearts that He bought

—Andrew Peterson

Five Things I’ve Learned from Mission

~An article for World Horizons USA~

After completing my missions training program with World Horizons USA in 2017, I did my first placement in the Eastern Mediterranean.  In the course of five months, I worked to help set up a business initiative which focused on producing quality coffee and wine. I also took a job as the manager of a small garden hotel in a local village.  These experiences grew and changed me in many ways. In addition to turning me into an unapologetic coffee snob, my time on the field taught me invaluable lessons that I will remember forever. I want to share a few of those lessons here.

Humility:

Living in the Eastern Mediterranean was incredibly humbling.  This humility was not connotatively negative, as when one feels embarrassed or stupid.  Rather, I gained a humility which came in the form of simple recognition that I was utterly and absolutely dependent upon other people.  I lived in the homes of other people. I prepared and ate the food that other people provided for me. I relied heavily on bilingual speakers to interpret for me as I struggled through learning and speaking the native language.  Whenever I wanted to go somewhere, I resorted to hitchhiking. Hitchhiking is tremendously fun and exciting; it’s effectively free transportation for the affordable price of good conversations and new friendships. But hitchhiking was also a further exercise in humility.  I could not get where I wanted to go on my own, and so I requested help from strangers who I could barely understand and who could barely understand me. Through these experiences, I learned that God provides faithfully for His people and that true humility means I must acknowledge my need for that provision.

Trust:

In order to perform basic tasks such as buy groceries, eat food, and travel, I had to rely on other people.  This necessitates a great deal of trust; trust not only in the people and places that I came to know and love, but trust also in strangers and, ultimately, in God.  When shopping at the local markets store, I had to trust that my language helpers had adequately equipped me with the proper words and phrases to obtain the desired results.  I had to trust that my generous hosts would continue to accomodate me in their homes. I had to trust that total strangers were kind, benevolent, and willing to pull over and take me safely from here to there.  More than anything, I had to trust that God would provide the right people at the right time. During this time, God graciously demonstrated His trustworthiness. He kept me safe, fed, sheltered, and healthy. He provided me with the right clerks behind the counter and the right drivers behind the wheel, some of whom are now my friends.  And though things didn’t always go as I would have planned (indeed, sometimes they went exactly the opposite), God continually worked to bring me to where I needed to be.

Patience:

During my placement, I truly internalized the fact that my attitude does not have to be determined by my circumstances.  I have very little control over the former; I have total control over the latter.

Learning any language can be slow, grueling, and frustrating.  Working from early morning to late evening can be wearing. The chronic, unabating heat and humidity set my teeth on edge.  But every day, I contemplated what a tremendous privilege it was to be there. While I had little to no control over my lack of ability to communicate, the rigorous work schedule, and the often overwhelming weather, I recognized that I could choose to retain a positive attitude because I was blessed to be included in the work.  In light of the big picture, overlooking the small frustrations of everyday life became, if not easy, possible.

Flexibility:

Almost every day in the Eastern Mediterranean was a change in regimen.  I very rarely had a set schedule. The number of guests staying in the hotel changed every day and, in conjunction, the amount of necessary food, clean rooms, and fresh laundry also changed.  The time at which guests arrived to be served meals varied. Sometimes, I switched rooms on a nightly basis in order to provide incoming patrons with an ideal space which suited all of their needs.  I was tasked with coffee roasting, working on the wine, or running errands at random and unpredictable hours. The nature of hitchhiking was such that I never knew quite when I would get to where I was going.  This lifestyle required me to be flexible: To “roll with it”, make quick adjustments, think and work on the fly, and function even when I did not know all of the variables (or even know where I’ll be or what I’ll be doing in the next hour).  As much as it was contrary to my nature, it was also fun and exhilarating

Role Modeling:

One of my last guests at the hotel was an actor who played supporting roles in small productions.  Halfway through his stay, he told me that he had been cast as an American in an upcoming film. Since he knew that I was an American, he informed me that he would be observing me for the entirety of his stay in order to discern how Americans walk, talk, and think.  This caused me to think. People were noticing me. They knew that I wasn’t “from around here”, and so whether they were attempting to learn how to be a good American or else simply curious about the manner in which I conducted myself, they were scrutinizing my every move.  I know that the point of ministry is to reflect Christ by modeling His love, and it’s a wonderful and terrifying responsibility.

What Is Business as Mission?

~An article for World Horizons USA~

Mission is community oriented.  Through serving, interacting with, and loving our neighbors, we may more effectively bear witness to Christ Jesus.  Business is also community oriented: as integral parts of society, businesses supply indispensable goods and services which benefit those who patronize them.

At World Horizons USA, we believe that every aspect of daily life should be dedicated primarily to glorifying God and to demonstrating His love for those around us.  We have found businesses to be productive and effective instruments for planting ourselves solidly in the midst of the communities where we live and work. We believe that God intended the business to be foremost a positive contributor to society.  The lesser goals of lucrativeness and fiscal success are second to the Biblical mandate to serve as salt and light: ambassadors of Christ to a world which is ready to have faith in Him. This mindset towards business necessitates the evaluation of bottom lines which go far beyond the financial.  When assessing our business initiatives, we must weigh our social and spiritual impacts as well.

When we consider business and its relationship to mission, we remember the instructions given in Jeremiah 29:7: “Seek the prosperity of the city to which I have carried you”.  This charge was dealt to those who were living and operating in a land far from home and in a culture which was foreign and unfamiliar. From this passage, we understand that is easy to fall into patterns wherein we become dedicated merely to “looking after our own”.  But God desires far more for us and for the world. The Lord has ordered us to invest our time, effort, and resources into those places and people which are unfamiliar and not always as comfortable as we might wish. The goal is a worthy one: Our Creator is bringing the wellness of His gospel to the people of the earth, and we are summoned to enter into that work and to invite others to join in it with us.

To this end, we plant businesses so that we may participate in the culture which surrounds us.  Businesses offer us contexts in which to invest in the growth and wellbeing of communities in both physical and spiritual ways.  The practice of business allows us to establish connections by providing safe spaces for us to build meaningful and lasting relationships.

David Skews, the Business as Mission Team Leader for World Horizons, puts it this way: “A missionary is someone who is called and sent out to another nation to proclaim the kingdom of God.  If that’s what a missionary does, that is exactly the mandate of a business person who is called to mission. So, a ‘business as mission’ person is a mission worker who is also a business person.  Business is a tool.” Business, like any other manifestation of mission, is merely a small part of our ultimate goal: seeing the love of Christ systemically exhibited in all parts of society: “We don’t just make a business to generate money that we can give to missions.  Within the business, we are proclaiming the kingdom of God. We create jobs for people and we share faith in that environment”.

Business is not an end in itself.  Rather, we value what business has to offer us: practical methods of contributing to societies in a fashion both material and relational.  It is an expression of God’s will for our lives: that every thought, word, and deed may be captive to His love for us and for the nations.