As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem. — Luke 9:51
Last Saturday I FREAKED OUT, which is completely not like me. I had just gotten back from Singapore, was extremely jet lagged, and was realizing that my time left in the United States was dwindling down to only a few weeks. All at once, a million doubts and uncertainties flooded my mind and I was left... overwhelmed.
It's not that I was doubting my decision to go back to Honduras, it was that I was realizing more and more that the Honduras I was going back to would be a different place. For those of you who follow the news closely you know that a change of power occurred in my absence and the political situation in Honduras is very unstable. Call it a coup or a "constitutional relieving of power" or whatever you want, but the reality is that the interim government of Honduras finds itself opposed by every single member of the United Nations.... EVERY SINGLE ONE. And with that opposition comes a huge loss of development aide which the country greatly depends upon.
Now honestly, the change of power will not affect my living situation directly. I imagine my life will be quite the same as when I left in June. There are no increased dangers to my life and I feel very safe about going back. But the effects of the fragile situation run deeper than just my physical safety. The instability has caused some staff members at IST to reconsider coming back for the coming school year. An already transient school is going to have even more of a different look come August, and I'm anticipating what the consequences of that might be. I know that the departure of several key staff members at the school will leave a void that will be largely difficult to fill and a void that many will expect to be filled, at least in part, by me.
And so last Saturday it was all a bit overwhelming. I knew that the situation that I will be walking into in August will be one that demands more than I have to give. And so for the first time I rethought my decision to go back...
But it was in that moment that God gave me a verse, Luke 9:51. "As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem." In this verse Jesus knows what He has been called to do and he sets out RESOLUTELY to do it. Now the thing is that this is probably not what Jesus really wants to do. Jesus could have gone somewhere where the people would have appreciated him more or where He could have performed more healing for people who really needed it. But He knows that His purpose is to go into Jerusalem... the very city that would kill Him a week later. Yet He set out... resolutely
I've been thinking a lot about what that means. I'm not trying to say that my situation is quite the same, but I think I can learn a lot from Jesus' example. I have a task before me that I know is going to be difficult, in fact, it is too difficult for me to accomplish. But that is where God is calling me, and I can either proceed anxiously or I can set out resolutely... with confidence.
And that is how I choose to go forward... resolutely; knowing that with each challenge (and each failure) I experience.... growth.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Monday, April 27, 2009
Changed
Today I was sitting in the passenger seat of Jake's truck driving on the "anillo" (ring) which wraps itself around the city of Tegucigalpa. It was rainy and overcast today, which might not seem that wonderful to a man born and raised in sunshine-depraved West Michigan, but the timing was perfect. You see, we are in the midst of the dry season here in Honduras, which means water for a shower is never guaranteed and that rushing river outside my house is nothing more than a trickle. A cloud of smog sits over the city and its inhabitants inhale a dry and dusty cloud with every breath. The rain was desperately needed.
It was as I was sitting in the passenger seat, contemplating our good weather fortune, when he turned to me and said, "So... What in the world happened at Bible Study last Wednesday??"
More on that later...
About seven years ago (oh my goodness I am getting old!) I packed up my things and moved 40 minutes south to start attending Hope College. For me, this stage of life could not have come soon enough. I was ready to try new things, to exlore new possibilities, and to reinvent myself in a new setting. One thing I noticed right away at college (and admittably was a little uncomfortable with) was the concept of groups. Within weeks of living on campus I was confront with all kinds of groups. There were small groups, worship groups, prayer groups, service groups, interest groups, intramural teams, Spring Break mission trip groups, musical groups, breakfast groups, lunch groups, dinner groups, 3AM pizza groups (need I go on?)
For a shy, intraverted kid like me it was all a little much. Especially when it came to groups based on faith... I just wasn't sure how to fit in, how to have community. I mean, faith was something that was personal, not something that I let others in on. And all of the sudden I was presented with all these opportunities to learn, grow and (gulp!) be vulnerable.
Now, I tried my hand at a bunch of different groups. I was part of some great prayer groups, some pretty cool worship groups and even an occasional small group. These were all great and I learned a lot, but nothing contributed more to my spiritual growth than Bible Studies. There was something about opening up God's Word with brothers and sisters that was so different from any other kind of community I had experienced. In fact, it was with a rag-tag group of guys hanging out in the lounge of Wycoff that I first started to understand what it meant to struggle through the scriptures together... to wrestle with the tough passages... and to be changed.
I guess I should not have been surprised. The Bible is full of examples of the early Church meeting together in community, praying, wrestling with the scriptures, and never being the same. Sometimes the place where they met was shaken... like physically shaken... like OH MY GOODNESS IS THIS AN EARTHQUAKE?!?!?!? kind of shaken. And they left as different people.
Hope College talks a lot about "Growing World Christians in the Soil of Hope", but looking back, that statement had little to do with the college itself. The growth started in the underground; the Bible Studies, the prayer groups, the fasting, the tarrying meetings. And the Holy Spirit took that cultivated a crop that spread (and continues to spread) to the ends of the earth.
Since leaving Hope I have struggled to find the community that I once had there. In my post-college life my faith retreated back to a personal level, and I have been guilty time and time again of wallowing in the self-pity of not having a comparable group with which to seek the Lord.
It's false... not true... a straight-up lie
You see, where two or more are gathered... He is there as well. When we open up the Scriptures, He is there. When we bow our heads and lift each other up in prayer, He is there. And when He is there, there is communion. That's how communities are built, that's how lives are changed, that's how revolutions are started.
Last Wednesday I was discouraged. Our men's Bible Study group has been a great source of support for me this year, but also a great example of inconsistency. I was sitting at home, looking at my phone, and debating whether to make the call. We were going to have a maximum of three people in the group that night, and it might not have been worth it, I mean... we are all busy people and could use some extra time.
But I didn't make the call, and we ended up meeting together. We opened up God's Word, we shared, and God put ideas and visions in our hearts about community and what He desires. We came away from that night with a renewed focus and God put an ambitious plan on Matt's heart to organize a community clean-up day to pick up trash around our community. It was superb... I'm not sure why I was surprised.
It was as I was sitting in the passenger seat, contemplating our good weather fortune, when Jake turned to me and said, "So... What in the world happened at Bible Study last Wednesday?? All of the sudden Stefan is talking about how great the meeting was and Matt comes to my office and wants to borrow my truck for a community clean-up day!?!"
What happened? We opened the scripture, the Holy Spirit showed up, and we were changed. That's real community. We shouldn't be surprised.
(Check out Hebrews 10:24-25 if you don't believe me.... okay... check it out even if you do)
It was as I was sitting in the passenger seat, contemplating our good weather fortune, when he turned to me and said, "So... What in the world happened at Bible Study last Wednesday??"
More on that later...
About seven years ago (oh my goodness I am getting old!) I packed up my things and moved 40 minutes south to start attending Hope College. For me, this stage of life could not have come soon enough. I was ready to try new things, to exlore new possibilities, and to reinvent myself in a new setting. One thing I noticed right away at college (and admittably was a little uncomfortable with) was the concept of groups. Within weeks of living on campus I was confront with all kinds of groups. There were small groups, worship groups, prayer groups, service groups, interest groups, intramural teams, Spring Break mission trip groups, musical groups, breakfast groups, lunch groups, dinner groups, 3AM pizza groups (need I go on?)
For a shy, intraverted kid like me it was all a little much. Especially when it came to groups based on faith... I just wasn't sure how to fit in, how to have community. I mean, faith was something that was personal, not something that I let others in on. And all of the sudden I was presented with all these opportunities to learn, grow and (gulp!) be vulnerable.
Now, I tried my hand at a bunch of different groups. I was part of some great prayer groups, some pretty cool worship groups and even an occasional small group. These were all great and I learned a lot, but nothing contributed more to my spiritual growth than Bible Studies. There was something about opening up God's Word with brothers and sisters that was so different from any other kind of community I had experienced. In fact, it was with a rag-tag group of guys hanging out in the lounge of Wycoff that I first started to understand what it meant to struggle through the scriptures together... to wrestle with the tough passages... and to be changed.
I guess I should not have been surprised. The Bible is full of examples of the early Church meeting together in community, praying, wrestling with the scriptures, and never being the same. Sometimes the place where they met was shaken... like physically shaken... like OH MY GOODNESS IS THIS AN EARTHQUAKE?!?!?!? kind of shaken. And they left as different people.
Hope College talks a lot about "Growing World Christians in the Soil of Hope", but looking back, that statement had little to do with the college itself. The growth started in the underground; the Bible Studies, the prayer groups, the fasting, the tarrying meetings. And the Holy Spirit took that cultivated a crop that spread (and continues to spread) to the ends of the earth.
Since leaving Hope I have struggled to find the community that I once had there. In my post-college life my faith retreated back to a personal level, and I have been guilty time and time again of wallowing in the self-pity of not having a comparable group with which to seek the Lord.
It's false... not true... a straight-up lie
You see, where two or more are gathered... He is there as well. When we open up the Scriptures, He is there. When we bow our heads and lift each other up in prayer, He is there. And when He is there, there is communion. That's how communities are built, that's how lives are changed, that's how revolutions are started.
Last Wednesday I was discouraged. Our men's Bible Study group has been a great source of support for me this year, but also a great example of inconsistency. I was sitting at home, looking at my phone, and debating whether to make the call. We were going to have a maximum of three people in the group that night, and it might not have been worth it, I mean... we are all busy people and could use some extra time.
But I didn't make the call, and we ended up meeting together. We opened up God's Word, we shared, and God put ideas and visions in our hearts about community and what He desires. We came away from that night with a renewed focus and God put an ambitious plan on Matt's heart to organize a community clean-up day to pick up trash around our community. It was superb... I'm not sure why I was surprised.
It was as I was sitting in the passenger seat, contemplating our good weather fortune, when Jake turned to me and said, "So... What in the world happened at Bible Study last Wednesday?? All of the sudden Stefan is talking about how great the meeting was and Matt comes to my office and wants to borrow my truck for a community clean-up day!?!"
What happened? We opened the scripture, the Holy Spirit showed up, and we were changed. That's real community. We shouldn't be surprised.
(Check out Hebrews 10:24-25 if you don't believe me.... okay... check it out even if you do)
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Like a tree
I've been thinking a lot about trees lately. Now, that may sound weird since I'm not a biology teacher, don't have a yard, and live in a concrete-city of over a million people. But trees (and GROWTH in general) have been in my thoughts.
One of my neighbors and fellow-teachers Rhonda was commenting on a tree across the street from where she lives. Rhonda lives in the white house, which is where I lived last year. One of the best things about that house (and consequently what I miss the most) is the porch area. Perhaps my favorite thing to do last year was to sit out in the hammock, read for hours, and watch the people as they passed by. It is from that hammock that you can see a big tropical palm tree directly across the street.
Now, the tree is a little bit out of its element. It is a coconut-yielding palm tree that should be standing tall on the beach instead of stuck behind a gate on the south-side of Tegucigalpa. But this is its plight... a tree of paradise that is stuck in the hazy city where we have not seen a drop of rain in several weeks.
"If somebody would take down that cement gate and give that tree some water you might think we lived in a paradise"
Rhonda is right. With just a little more rain and little less barbed wire our neighborhood would be a different place.
Sometimes I feel like that tree. Life comes fast and hard and our days are filled with things vying for our energy, our focus, our attention. To take cover we pull away and put up our hedges of security (cement and barbed-wire gates if you will) and many times we are left covered up... dried up.
This past week was Spring Break for us here in Honduras and I took advantage of taking a trip with three other guys to the largest lake in Honduras. One evening we rented kayaks and set out on the lake. The water was so calm, so peaceful, and the vegetation so green. It was a stark contrast to the dried-up brown city where we live. The trees around Lago de Yojoa were the most vivid green and as the sun dipped below the mountains I couldn't help but be overcome by the beauty surrounding me. There was so much growth, so much LIFE.
On our way back to shore we took a few minutes to kayak around some trees growing in the lake a few feet from the shore. Their roots were fully exposed, as they drank deeply from the life-providing water beneath.
The whole scene brought a verse to my mind which has been a bit of a theme for me the last few months:
"Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. For his delight is in the law of the Lord and on his law he meditates day and night. HE IS LIKE A TREE, PLANTED BY STREAMS OF WATER THAT YIELDS ITS FRUIT IN SEASON, ITS LEAF NEVER WITHERS. Whatever he does prospers"
Psalm 1
The thing I love about that picture that the Psalmist gives is that the tree is planted by the source of its nurishment. It does not mention the seasons of change when the weather gets rough, the hardships and trials and tribulations. But instead it presents a picture of a tree deeply attached to its source, despite anything that might be going on around it. It's leaf NEVER withers... not when life gets busy... not when times get tough... NEVER.
Lately I've been trying to stick by the Source. I have a tendency to be a person who tries to do as much as possible to maintain some level of control. I've got to do more to be the best teacher or the best friend or a better Christian. However, sometimes life is not about doing, it's about BEING and right now I am enjoying sitting still and drinking deeply; deeply from friendships, deeply from relationships, and deeply from God's Word.
It's a good place to be I think and I cling to the promise that one day... when my season comes... the fruit will be there with it.
Lago de Yojoa
Psalm 1:3
One of my neighbors and fellow-teachers Rhonda was commenting on a tree across the street from where she lives. Rhonda lives in the white house, which is where I lived last year. One of the best things about that house (and consequently what I miss the most) is the porch area. Perhaps my favorite thing to do last year was to sit out in the hammock, read for hours, and watch the people as they passed by. It is from that hammock that you can see a big tropical palm tree directly across the street.
Now, the tree is a little bit out of its element. It is a coconut-yielding palm tree that should be standing tall on the beach instead of stuck behind a gate on the south-side of Tegucigalpa. But this is its plight... a tree of paradise that is stuck in the hazy city where we have not seen a drop of rain in several weeks.
"If somebody would take down that cement gate and give that tree some water you might think we lived in a paradise"
Rhonda is right. With just a little more rain and little less barbed wire our neighborhood would be a different place.
Sometimes I feel like that tree. Life comes fast and hard and our days are filled with things vying for our energy, our focus, our attention. To take cover we pull away and put up our hedges of security (cement and barbed-wire gates if you will) and many times we are left covered up... dried up.
This past week was Spring Break for us here in Honduras and I took advantage of taking a trip with three other guys to the largest lake in Honduras. One evening we rented kayaks and set out on the lake. The water was so calm, so peaceful, and the vegetation so green. It was a stark contrast to the dried-up brown city where we live. The trees around Lago de Yojoa were the most vivid green and as the sun dipped below the mountains I couldn't help but be overcome by the beauty surrounding me. There was so much growth, so much LIFE.
On our way back to shore we took a few minutes to kayak around some trees growing in the lake a few feet from the shore. Their roots were fully exposed, as they drank deeply from the life-providing water beneath.
The whole scene brought a verse to my mind which has been a bit of a theme for me the last few months:
"Blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, or stand in the way of sinners or sit in the seat of mockers. For his delight is in the law of the Lord and on his law he meditates day and night. HE IS LIKE A TREE, PLANTED BY STREAMS OF WATER THAT YIELDS ITS FRUIT IN SEASON, ITS LEAF NEVER WITHERS. Whatever he does prospers"
Psalm 1
The thing I love about that picture that the Psalmist gives is that the tree is planted by the source of its nurishment. It does not mention the seasons of change when the weather gets rough, the hardships and trials and tribulations. But instead it presents a picture of a tree deeply attached to its source, despite anything that might be going on around it. It's leaf NEVER withers... not when life gets busy... not when times get tough... NEVER.
Lately I've been trying to stick by the Source. I have a tendency to be a person who tries to do as much as possible to maintain some level of control. I've got to do more to be the best teacher or the best friend or a better Christian. However, sometimes life is not about doing, it's about BEING and right now I am enjoying sitting still and drinking deeply; deeply from friendships, deeply from relationships, and deeply from God's Word.
It's a good place to be I think and I cling to the promise that one day... when my season comes... the fruit will be there with it.
Lago de Yojoa
Psalm 1:3
Saturday, March 28, 2009
A Honduran Spring Break
One of the hardest parts of living in Tegucigalpa has very little to do with where I am... and more where I am not; little to do with who I am with... more to do with who is not here to share the experience with me; little to do with what I am experiencing... and much more to do with what I am missing. I love my life down here, but when I made the move south I knew that I would be giving up many things. Friendships and even family relationships take on a new form when you add hundreds of miles, and for all the new communication technology that exists, there is no substitute for being there.
That is why when I heard back in the fall that my sister was planning to visit for her Spring Break, I almost could not believe my ears. Now, I have been fortunate enough in my time here to run in to a person or two from my life in the US. I have had the wonderful opportunity to connect with several people doing dental/medical clinics, but Emily was the first person to come down with the specific purpose of seeing me and my life down here! It was... fantastic!
We crammed as much as humanly possible in to a six-day period and by the time she left I feel like she got a good taste of what life here is all about. We hit the sights in the city, took a trip to the orphanage, hiked around a national park, went sight-seeing in several small Honduran towns, hit up my favorite restaurants in the city and Emily even helped me teach some of my psychology classes (don't tell my psych students, but she knows WAY more about that stuff than I do...)
In edition to all of the great things that we saw and experienced, I think the best part was just having her here. I feel like even though we had a short period of time, she now understands a piece of my life that it is hard to share with friends and family back home. She now has faces to go with the names in my stories, and a frame of reference for what is the craziness of living life in Tegucigalpa. And maybe just understanding is the best gift that she could have given me.
Emily looking out over Tegucigalpa
Getting ready to hike down into the Pulapanzak Waterfall
Emily hearing some juicy secrets in a confessional booth in Santa Lucia
Emily enjoying herself at the sketchy-est zoo in the world (El Picacho)
We planted a small vegetable garden on Lauren's porch (I couldn't resist taking a photo of two of my favorite people!)
That is why when I heard back in the fall that my sister was planning to visit for her Spring Break, I almost could not believe my ears. Now, I have been fortunate enough in my time here to run in to a person or two from my life in the US. I have had the wonderful opportunity to connect with several people doing dental/medical clinics, but Emily was the first person to come down with the specific purpose of seeing me and my life down here! It was... fantastic!
We crammed as much as humanly possible in to a six-day period and by the time she left I feel like she got a good taste of what life here is all about. We hit the sights in the city, took a trip to the orphanage, hiked around a national park, went sight-seeing in several small Honduran towns, hit up my favorite restaurants in the city and Emily even helped me teach some of my psychology classes (don't tell my psych students, but she knows WAY more about that stuff than I do...)
In edition to all of the great things that we saw and experienced, I think the best part was just having her here. I feel like even though we had a short period of time, she now understands a piece of my life that it is hard to share with friends and family back home. She now has faces to go with the names in my stories, and a frame of reference for what is the craziness of living life in Tegucigalpa. And maybe just understanding is the best gift that she could have given me.
Emily looking out over Tegucigalpa
Getting ready to hike down into the Pulapanzak Waterfall
Emily hearing some juicy secrets in a confessional booth in Santa Lucia
Emily enjoying herself at the sketchy-est zoo in the world (El Picacho)
We planted a small vegetable garden on Lauren's porch (I couldn't resist taking a photo of two of my favorite people!)
Sunday, March 8, 2009
San Francisco (7/7)
This post is Day 7 in a series of seven straight days of blogging
I love my job... I really do. There is just something about standing in front of a classroom full of young minds and attempting (sometimes more successfully than others) to educate. When I look out on those face I see the future and I can't help but feel that in some way... what I am doing MATTERS. And that can be an extremely wonderful and TERRIFYING feeling at the same time.
It is so hard to be an excellent teacher. A master teacher not only cares about how he/she teaches, manages, grades, etc.... a mater teacher questions WHAT they teach. Teaching is just not about having students copy down 20 vocabulary words about the Middle Ages; everything I teach says something about my beliefs, my ideology and my philosophy of life (theology as well?).
A few weeks ago I was teaching a World History lesson on the Catholic Church in the Middle Ages. Even though I do not consider myself a member of the Roman Catholic denomination I can't help, but read about those troubled times and think about them as my history as well. The world "Catholic" means united and refers more to the Church than a specific denomination. I feel as though the Church in the Middle Ages, albeit flawed, sits as a part of my religious family tree. Their story is my story.
The predominant thought in the Church of the Middle Ages was that the world is pretty messed up, and honestly it's probably not going to get any better. They certainly had some good examples to point to. There were wars, corrupt leadership and a huge gap between the rich and the poor (sound familiar?). Theology was a mix of St. Augustine and the pre-Christian Greek philosopher Plato who both claimed that this world would never attain anything near the perfection of the model on which it is based. The best we can hope for in this world, is that someday we get to leave it.
It was in this climate where a young man named Francis grew up. Francis was born into wealth which he used to get about anything he wanted (wine, women, etc). However, he never could get over the extreme poverty he saw around him. He learned at a young age that the world was a messed up place and eventually he decided he wanted no part of it. He started giving away everything he owned right down to his fancy wardrobe. His Priest thought that he was a perfect candidate to be a monk, because then he could get out of the temptations of the city and spend time in quiet reflection. His dad thought Francis was crazy for not wanting to pursue a life of wealth.
Francis was caught in between two extremes: his dad's life of worldly wealth and the life of a religion separate from society. But Francis chose a third way... in my opinion he chose the way of Jesus. Instead of getting away from society to be with Jesus, he brought Jesus to those who needed it the most. He was an advocate for the poor, the widows and the distressed. He spend his time hanging out with lepers and taking care of the environment. And in an age that said this world had absolutely nothing good in it, he showed that God was not limited by a religious timeline that had Him coming back in some sort of "end times". God was THERE... RIGHT THEN... and He was waiting for people to be His hands and feet.
In a time of our spiritual heritage that many would rather forget, Francis was one man who got it.
And I think (at least for one day) my students got it too. As we talked what emerged was a vision for a world where there was no difference between our church life and the rest of our lives; no difference between the secular and the sacred.
And THAT is why I love this job.
I love my job... I really do. There is just something about standing in front of a classroom full of young minds and attempting (sometimes more successfully than others) to educate. When I look out on those face I see the future and I can't help but feel that in some way... what I am doing MATTERS. And that can be an extremely wonderful and TERRIFYING feeling at the same time.
It is so hard to be an excellent teacher. A master teacher not only cares about how he/she teaches, manages, grades, etc.... a mater teacher questions WHAT they teach. Teaching is just not about having students copy down 20 vocabulary words about the Middle Ages; everything I teach says something about my beliefs, my ideology and my philosophy of life (theology as well?).
A few weeks ago I was teaching a World History lesson on the Catholic Church in the Middle Ages. Even though I do not consider myself a member of the Roman Catholic denomination I can't help, but read about those troubled times and think about them as my history as well. The world "Catholic" means united and refers more to the Church than a specific denomination. I feel as though the Church in the Middle Ages, albeit flawed, sits as a part of my religious family tree. Their story is my story.
The predominant thought in the Church of the Middle Ages was that the world is pretty messed up, and honestly it's probably not going to get any better. They certainly had some good examples to point to. There were wars, corrupt leadership and a huge gap between the rich and the poor (sound familiar?). Theology was a mix of St. Augustine and the pre-Christian Greek philosopher Plato who both claimed that this world would never attain anything near the perfection of the model on which it is based. The best we can hope for in this world, is that someday we get to leave it.
It was in this climate where a young man named Francis grew up. Francis was born into wealth which he used to get about anything he wanted (wine, women, etc). However, he never could get over the extreme poverty he saw around him. He learned at a young age that the world was a messed up place and eventually he decided he wanted no part of it. He started giving away everything he owned right down to his fancy wardrobe. His Priest thought that he was a perfect candidate to be a monk, because then he could get out of the temptations of the city and spend time in quiet reflection. His dad thought Francis was crazy for not wanting to pursue a life of wealth.
Francis was caught in between two extremes: his dad's life of worldly wealth and the life of a religion separate from society. But Francis chose a third way... in my opinion he chose the way of Jesus. Instead of getting away from society to be with Jesus, he brought Jesus to those who needed it the most. He was an advocate for the poor, the widows and the distressed. He spend his time hanging out with lepers and taking care of the environment. And in an age that said this world had absolutely nothing good in it, he showed that God was not limited by a religious timeline that had Him coming back in some sort of "end times". God was THERE... RIGHT THEN... and He was waiting for people to be His hands and feet.
In a time of our spiritual heritage that many would rather forget, Francis was one man who got it.
And I think (at least for one day) my students got it too. As we talked what emerged was a vision for a world where there was no difference between our church life and the rest of our lives; no difference between the secular and the sacred.
And THAT is why I love this job.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Ungratefulness (6/7)
This post is Day 6 in a series of seven straight days of blogging
"Everything is so amazing, and nobody is happy..."
A few weeks ago I came across this video of comedian Louis CK that I believe is really worth checking out:
There are so many little things here that can drive me crazy about living in Tegucigalpa: It get's dark at 6:30PM, I can't drink the water out of the tap, EVERYTHING starts late, relying on public transportation can be a pain, and did I mention that I had to be at school at 6AM this morning for the Spelling Bee... ON A SATURDAY?!?!?!? The temptation can be to grow negative at times. I spend most of my time with other teachers and the good Lord knows that teachers can always find something to complain about. We tend to focus on long hours and little pay during the school year, but grow curiously silent as we spend late June to August on the beach. I'll be the first to admit that I am often ungrateful.
I wonder what God thinks about our ungratefulness. I know as a teacher, sometimes I will work for hours and hours to get a lesson prepared for school. I want to make my lessons interesting, relevant... I want them to MATTER to my students. But then the school day will come, the students will be tired and the lesson will fall apart before my eyes:
- This is boring Mister. Can we go outside?
I kind of think that God must feel the same way. He so desperately loves us that He has given us life to be lived abundantly. But instead... we complain. We keep searching for happiness, fulfillment and significance everywhere except the Source that created them all. And THEN, when we don't feel any of those things, we feel cheated by life. Like somehow or another we are entitled to feel non-stop happiness all of the time in whatever place we decide to go looking for it.
Today as I stood on a hill above the city of Tegucigalpa I was reminded of just how blessed I truly am. Maybe it had less to do with the view of the city itself and more to do with where I have been, where I am going, and who I was with. God has been so faithful and at that moment I was extremely grateful just.... to be.
"Everything is so amazing, and nobody is happy..."
A few weeks ago I came across this video of comedian Louis CK that I believe is really worth checking out:
There are so many little things here that can drive me crazy about living in Tegucigalpa: It get's dark at 6:30PM, I can't drink the water out of the tap, EVERYTHING starts late, relying on public transportation can be a pain, and did I mention that I had to be at school at 6AM this morning for the Spelling Bee... ON A SATURDAY?!?!?!? The temptation can be to grow negative at times. I spend most of my time with other teachers and the good Lord knows that teachers can always find something to complain about. We tend to focus on long hours and little pay during the school year, but grow curiously silent as we spend late June to August on the beach. I'll be the first to admit that I am often ungrateful.
I wonder what God thinks about our ungratefulness. I know as a teacher, sometimes I will work for hours and hours to get a lesson prepared for school. I want to make my lessons interesting, relevant... I want them to MATTER to my students. But then the school day will come, the students will be tired and the lesson will fall apart before my eyes:
- This is boring Mister. Can we go outside?
I kind of think that God must feel the same way. He so desperately loves us that He has given us life to be lived abundantly. But instead... we complain. We keep searching for happiness, fulfillment and significance everywhere except the Source that created them all. And THEN, when we don't feel any of those things, we feel cheated by life. Like somehow or another we are entitled to feel non-stop happiness all of the time in whatever place we decide to go looking for it.
Today as I stood on a hill above the city of Tegucigalpa I was reminded of just how blessed I truly am. Maybe it had less to do with the view of the city itself and more to do with where I have been, where I am going, and who I was with. God has been so faithful and at that moment I was extremely grateful just.... to be.
Friday, March 6, 2009
Focus (5/7)
This post is Day 5 in a series of seven straight days of blogging
This seven straight days of blogging deal has been a lot more difficult than I had originally anticipated. It turns out that my life is really busy here and sitting down for an hour or so to type out my thoughts can be hard to fit in. I've been juggling church worship team, North American community coordinating, a couple different Bible Study groups, tutoring, a relationship and... oh yeah... my TEACHING JOB! It's a little crazy...
Speaking of teaching, this is the time of year when it becomes extremely difficult for my students to focus on ANYTHING. We just had a big week-long break a little while back, and they are already counting down the days until Semana Santa (aka Spring Break). I mean, YOU try and teach a room full of 17-year old ELL students about the Iranian Society of Engineers and nuclear proliferation.
- Okay class, let's say it together "Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. MAH-MOUD AH-MA-DI-NE-JAD"
Goodness, until January, the President of the United States couldn't even say it correctly:
- Ahma...ma.... Ahmadi..... that Iranian guy who's always saying that nasty stuff about me, right Condi?
I feel as though my focus has not been much better. After a long day of teaching, it can be a chore trying to work up enough motivation to tackle the stacks of gradeless papers or to plan out a unit on the High Middle Ages. Sometimes I find myself sitting on the computer and playing some kind of mindless game just to wind down. As Jim Halpert so aptly stated last night on the Office, "I'm busy this afternoon. Those mines don't just sweep themselves..."
I think you would be correct to label it a lack of focus; a lack of knowing what needs to be accomplished and taking the steps necessary in getting the job done. It has gotten me thinking a lot the last couple days about what exactly I am doing here. When I step in front of the classroom and gaze out on twenty-five youthful face what is my objective? What is my goal? To teach them psychology (world history, comparative government)? Is it something more?
This afternoon I was sitting on the bleachers following a soccer game with some kids off the street in the downtown area. I had just spent the past 45 minutes getting schooled and I was tired as I bit off the corner of my bag of water. After catching my breath I went and sat down next to a brother in Christ that I really admire. This guy has given up this stage of his life to hang out with kids off the street and to empower them with education.
We hadn't REALLY talked in a few months and it was good to sit down and catch up a bit. In our conversation I got to sharing a little bit about the future and the ways I really feel God is leading me. As we conversed further he turned to me and said,
"man, that is AWESOME. I love your focus! It's just like Jesus in Luke 9. He knows he's going to Jerusalem and so he 'resolutely sets out' to go there. Along the way He says 'no' to some stuff... some good stuff, but it's because He knows what it's about. He's FOCUSED."
His words really resonated with me as did the example of Jesus. Maybe my lack of focus lately has been a failure to connect my every day activities with a destination. I'm not necessarily talking about a specific place, but rather a way of being. What I do today MATTERS. The way I treat a student matters, the way I show somebody I love them matters, the way I spend my free time matters and even the way I grade 11th grade Comparative Government quizzes.... matters. All these things I do today are preparing me for something tomorrow and I really want to be ready for when tomorrow comes.
Tonight I want to set out Jesus-style... Luke 9:51-style... I want to resolutely go forward.
As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem
This seven straight days of blogging deal has been a lot more difficult than I had originally anticipated. It turns out that my life is really busy here and sitting down for an hour or so to type out my thoughts can be hard to fit in. I've been juggling church worship team, North American community coordinating, a couple different Bible Study groups, tutoring, a relationship and... oh yeah... my TEACHING JOB! It's a little crazy...
Speaking of teaching, this is the time of year when it becomes extremely difficult for my students to focus on ANYTHING. We just had a big week-long break a little while back, and they are already counting down the days until Semana Santa (aka Spring Break). I mean, YOU try and teach a room full of 17-year old ELL students about the Iranian Society of Engineers and nuclear proliferation.
- Okay class, let's say it together "Mahmoud Ahmadinejad. MAH-MOUD AH-MA-DI-NE-JAD"
Goodness, until January, the President of the United States couldn't even say it correctly:
- Ahma...ma.... Ahmadi..... that Iranian guy who's always saying that nasty stuff about me, right Condi?
I feel as though my focus has not been much better. After a long day of teaching, it can be a chore trying to work up enough motivation to tackle the stacks of gradeless papers or to plan out a unit on the High Middle Ages. Sometimes I find myself sitting on the computer and playing some kind of mindless game just to wind down. As Jim Halpert so aptly stated last night on the Office, "I'm busy this afternoon. Those mines don't just sweep themselves..."
I think you would be correct to label it a lack of focus; a lack of knowing what needs to be accomplished and taking the steps necessary in getting the job done. It has gotten me thinking a lot the last couple days about what exactly I am doing here. When I step in front of the classroom and gaze out on twenty-five youthful face what is my objective? What is my goal? To teach them psychology (world history, comparative government)? Is it something more?
This afternoon I was sitting on the bleachers following a soccer game with some kids off the street in the downtown area. I had just spent the past 45 minutes getting schooled and I was tired as I bit off the corner of my bag of water. After catching my breath I went and sat down next to a brother in Christ that I really admire. This guy has given up this stage of his life to hang out with kids off the street and to empower them with education.
We hadn't REALLY talked in a few months and it was good to sit down and catch up a bit. In our conversation I got to sharing a little bit about the future and the ways I really feel God is leading me. As we conversed further he turned to me and said,
"man, that is AWESOME. I love your focus! It's just like Jesus in Luke 9. He knows he's going to Jerusalem and so he 'resolutely sets out' to go there. Along the way He says 'no' to some stuff... some good stuff, but it's because He knows what it's about. He's FOCUSED."
His words really resonated with me as did the example of Jesus. Maybe my lack of focus lately has been a failure to connect my every day activities with a destination. I'm not necessarily talking about a specific place, but rather a way of being. What I do today MATTERS. The way I treat a student matters, the way I show somebody I love them matters, the way I spend my free time matters and even the way I grade 11th grade Comparative Government quizzes.... matters. All these things I do today are preparing me for something tomorrow and I really want to be ready for when tomorrow comes.
Tonight I want to set out Jesus-style... Luke 9:51-style... I want to resolutely go forward.
As the time approached for him to be taken up to heaven, Jesus resolutely set out for Jerusalem
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Swings (4/7)
This post is Day 4 in a series of seven straight days of blogging
Yesterday President Obama's girls came home from school to find a big surprise in their new front yard. Awaiting them in the lawn of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was a brand new swing set. Apparently the girls were so happy that they spent hours playing outside even though Washington DC is experiencing less-than-enjoyable-outside-weather. Now, several former presidents have added things to the White House such as a bowling alley, tennis courts and a swimming pool, but the playground swing set has to be about the coolest addition of which I have ever heard. What ever your feelings about Obama, a swing set in full view of the Oval Office is a great move (fairly bi-partisan I feel).
I make no effort to conceal my love for all kinds of playground equipment, especially swing sets. I seriously can spend (and definitely have spent) countless hours playing around like a little kid on all kinds of apparatus. I enjoy the monkey bars, the firemans' pole is a good time, and if you get going good and fast the merry-go-round is a cheap thrill ride. But the best piece of playground equipment is definitely the swing set.
When I was going to college one of my favorite things to do was to go late at night to the Sunny Mart on the corner of Central and 15th to grab a cheap slurpie and head to the nearest park. In Holland, Michigan there are a wealth of parks and schools to chose from that are equipped with a variety of traditional, bucket and even tire swings. There is something about gliding back and forth, slurpie in hand, pondering life's deep mysteries. Actually, I think I might do some of my best philosophying at 2 AM on a swing set.
Living in Tegucigalpa has significantly changed my life style. I live in a city of over 1 million people that all live in a culture completely foreign to my West Michigan upbringing. It gets dark at about 6:30 and the city really is not a safe place to be walking around in at night. I don't have a car, so transportation can be difficult and sometimes I can feel SO TRAPPED. I can't walk to the park, spend sunset walking along the beach or even hop in a car and drive somewhere. For my introverted self (INTJ) there are siginificanly limited options for me to be by myself... at least outside of my house.
That's why perhaps the best discovery of the year was when I found a small little park in a new housing development during one of my runs... maybe fifteen minutes from my house! Now, I know this park is probably for community members only, but it is WAY underutilized. I don't feel like Hondurans share quite the same affection for playground equipment, and the lonely swings used to basically BEG to be used everytime I ran by. So I answered their plea and have probably made it out there a good dozen times this school year. At night you can look out and see the lights of the city scattered throughout the horizon. I sometimes think Tegucigalpa is best lived in during the day, but best viewed at night... it is beautiful.
It reminds me of spring days on the playground as a kid, and even late nights back in college, but this time with a fresh new feel that better represents this current stage in my life. These days I'm not sitting alone and tackling the world's big questions. I'm sharing these moments with a woman of God who came into my life in late August and is quickly becoming my best friend. When I'm sitting on those swings at night with Lauren sharing conversation, stories, and God-sized dreams I am struck by how extrememly blessed I truly am.
So needless to say, I think President Obama made perhaps the best move of his young presidency thus far. Something inside me just feels better knowing that the Leader of the Free World might be pondering and praying about the world's deep needs seated on a swing in his front yard.
The Obama's new swing set
Yesterday President Obama's girls came home from school to find a big surprise in their new front yard. Awaiting them in the lawn of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue was a brand new swing set. Apparently the girls were so happy that they spent hours playing outside even though Washington DC is experiencing less-than-enjoyable-outside-weather. Now, several former presidents have added things to the White House such as a bowling alley, tennis courts and a swimming pool, but the playground swing set has to be about the coolest addition of which I have ever heard. What ever your feelings about Obama, a swing set in full view of the Oval Office is a great move (fairly bi-partisan I feel).
I make no effort to conceal my love for all kinds of playground equipment, especially swing sets. I seriously can spend (and definitely have spent) countless hours playing around like a little kid on all kinds of apparatus. I enjoy the monkey bars, the firemans' pole is a good time, and if you get going good and fast the merry-go-round is a cheap thrill ride. But the best piece of playground equipment is definitely the swing set.
When I was going to college one of my favorite things to do was to go late at night to the Sunny Mart on the corner of Central and 15th to grab a cheap slurpie and head to the nearest park. In Holland, Michigan there are a wealth of parks and schools to chose from that are equipped with a variety of traditional, bucket and even tire swings. There is something about gliding back and forth, slurpie in hand, pondering life's deep mysteries. Actually, I think I might do some of my best philosophying at 2 AM on a swing set.
Living in Tegucigalpa has significantly changed my life style. I live in a city of over 1 million people that all live in a culture completely foreign to my West Michigan upbringing. It gets dark at about 6:30 and the city really is not a safe place to be walking around in at night. I don't have a car, so transportation can be difficult and sometimes I can feel SO TRAPPED. I can't walk to the park, spend sunset walking along the beach or even hop in a car and drive somewhere. For my introverted self (INTJ) there are siginificanly limited options for me to be by myself... at least outside of my house.
That's why perhaps the best discovery of the year was when I found a small little park in a new housing development during one of my runs... maybe fifteen minutes from my house! Now, I know this park is probably for community members only, but it is WAY underutilized. I don't feel like Hondurans share quite the same affection for playground equipment, and the lonely swings used to basically BEG to be used everytime I ran by. So I answered their plea and have probably made it out there a good dozen times this school year. At night you can look out and see the lights of the city scattered throughout the horizon. I sometimes think Tegucigalpa is best lived in during the day, but best viewed at night... it is beautiful.
It reminds me of spring days on the playground as a kid, and even late nights back in college, but this time with a fresh new feel that better represents this current stage in my life. These days I'm not sitting alone and tackling the world's big questions. I'm sharing these moments with a woman of God who came into my life in late August and is quickly becoming my best friend. When I'm sitting on those swings at night with Lauren sharing conversation, stories, and God-sized dreams I am struck by how extrememly blessed I truly am.
So needless to say, I think President Obama made perhaps the best move of his young presidency thus far. Something inside me just feels better knowing that the Leader of the Free World might be pondering and praying about the world's deep needs seated on a swing in his front yard.
The Obama's new swing set
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Is this anything? (3/7)
This post is day 3 in a series of seven straight days of blogging
During my freshman year of college me and a friend got in the habit of watching some late night talk shows. Basically we just cared about the monologues and maybe some of the small Leno segments like "Headlines" or "Jay-walking". However, occasionally we would flip over to CBS and catch a little bit of one of Letterman's pointless games. Now, I normally find Letterman about as funny as lamp post, but from time to time I would catch myself laughing at some of his ridiculous games.
To give you an example, one of his more frequent games was entitled "Will it float?" and involved Dave and Paul placing bets on whether or not an item would... well... float. They tried everything from baseball bats, to kitchen sinks, to reclining sofas just to see how good they were at judging buoyancy.
My favorite Letterman game, however, was "Is this anything?" Basically a curtain would open and behind it would be some sort random thing and then they would have to decide if it was, in fact, anything. The game is completely subjective and pointless... but ironically that is the point.
I feel as though in some ways I should market this game in Honduras (Is this anything? Travel edition. Ahora en espanol!!). All I have to do is walk a few blocks from my house and I could encounter a number of random things:
- a cow stuck in power lines
- a man drinking a mysterious orange liquid from a plastic sandwich bag
- a girl twirling chains with fire on the end
- a man wearing a shirt that says "Bomb Canada"
I feel like I often see something, do a double-take and then have to decide if that random thing was, in fact, anything. It's seriously fun. You should try it some time.
Sometimes when I am reading the Bible I come across a passage that sticks with me for a long time. I'm not talking about something inspirational or uplifting. I'm talking about something that sends chills down my spine just to read it and causes me to sit there in silent confusion just trying to grasp the significance of it.
One of those passages has been camping out in my head for the last several years, and from time to time it resurfaces. The verse comes from John 15 where Jesus is talking about the vine and the branches. The opening verses talk about the branches of this vine being connected to God and consequently bearing fruit. It sounds nice enough, but then comes verse 5:
I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; APART FROM ME YOU CAN DO NOTHING John 15:5 (my emphasis added)
There it is, the line that I just cannot get over. "Apart from me you can do nothing".... nothing.... NOTHING!!! But wait! That does not make any sense. I know very well that I have done lots of things apart from God. I mean, there are entire days (sadly) where I do things and God hardly even crosses my mind. Maybe not everything, but it actually seems like I can do a great deal without God.
And that's why a passage like John 15:5 is so scary. It's truth, but it's not my experience. What does that mean? The only possibility that I am left with is that all of those things I do apart from God: my achievements, my successes, my triumphs.... are... nothing. Maybe to the world they look like something great, but to God all of those things that originate with ourselves are nothing. Wealth, money, security, fame and power we gain of our own accord is meaningless.
It's a hard truth when I look at leading a life of significance. I can be the best teacher in the world, but if I am doing it in my own strength, it is not worth a thing. However, the other side is that everything that I do in Christ is SOMETHING. It does not matter how much I mess it up or how insufficient I am, God can take my weakness and turning it into something beautiful.
So maybe Letterman's game is not so pointless after all. Maybe every once in a while it is a good idea to sit back, look at our lives and accomplishments and really question:
What am I really accomplishing with my life?
Did I do this out of my own strength or out of God's?
Is this anything?
During my freshman year of college me and a friend got in the habit of watching some late night talk shows. Basically we just cared about the monologues and maybe some of the small Leno segments like "Headlines" or "Jay-walking". However, occasionally we would flip over to CBS and catch a little bit of one of Letterman's pointless games. Now, I normally find Letterman about as funny as lamp post, but from time to time I would catch myself laughing at some of his ridiculous games.
To give you an example, one of his more frequent games was entitled "Will it float?" and involved Dave and Paul placing bets on whether or not an item would... well... float. They tried everything from baseball bats, to kitchen sinks, to reclining sofas just to see how good they were at judging buoyancy.
My favorite Letterman game, however, was "Is this anything?" Basically a curtain would open and behind it would be some sort random thing and then they would have to decide if it was, in fact, anything. The game is completely subjective and pointless... but ironically that is the point.
I feel as though in some ways I should market this game in Honduras (Is this anything? Travel edition. Ahora en espanol!!). All I have to do is walk a few blocks from my house and I could encounter a number of random things:
- a cow stuck in power lines
- a man drinking a mysterious orange liquid from a plastic sandwich bag
- a girl twirling chains with fire on the end
- a man wearing a shirt that says "Bomb Canada"
I feel like I often see something, do a double-take and then have to decide if that random thing was, in fact, anything. It's seriously fun. You should try it some time.
Sometimes when I am reading the Bible I come across a passage that sticks with me for a long time. I'm not talking about something inspirational or uplifting. I'm talking about something that sends chills down my spine just to read it and causes me to sit there in silent confusion just trying to grasp the significance of it.
One of those passages has been camping out in my head for the last several years, and from time to time it resurfaces. The verse comes from John 15 where Jesus is talking about the vine and the branches. The opening verses talk about the branches of this vine being connected to God and consequently bearing fruit. It sounds nice enough, but then comes verse 5:
I am the vine; you are the branches. If a man remains in me and I in him, he will bear much fruit; APART FROM ME YOU CAN DO NOTHING John 15:5 (my emphasis added)
There it is, the line that I just cannot get over. "Apart from me you can do nothing".... nothing.... NOTHING!!! But wait! That does not make any sense. I know very well that I have done lots of things apart from God. I mean, there are entire days (sadly) where I do things and God hardly even crosses my mind. Maybe not everything, but it actually seems like I can do a great deal without God.
And that's why a passage like John 15:5 is so scary. It's truth, but it's not my experience. What does that mean? The only possibility that I am left with is that all of those things I do apart from God: my achievements, my successes, my triumphs.... are... nothing. Maybe to the world they look like something great, but to God all of those things that originate with ourselves are nothing. Wealth, money, security, fame and power we gain of our own accord is meaningless.
It's a hard truth when I look at leading a life of significance. I can be the best teacher in the world, but if I am doing it in my own strength, it is not worth a thing. However, the other side is that everything that I do in Christ is SOMETHING. It does not matter how much I mess it up or how insufficient I am, God can take my weakness and turning it into something beautiful.
So maybe Letterman's game is not so pointless after all. Maybe every once in a while it is a good idea to sit back, look at our lives and accomplishments and really question:
What am I really accomplishing with my life?
Did I do this out of my own strength or out of God's?
Is this anything?
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Youth (2/7)
This post is day 2 in seven straight days of blogging
Have you ever had one of those mornings when you woke up, sat straight up in bed and said “Holy crap, I’m 25 years old?!?!?!” Well, I had one of those mornings in late November when I came to the realization that I had entered a new stage in life and would never be able to go back again. Now, don’t get me wrong, 25 is young. But there is something about turning a quarter-of-a-century that brings you to the scary realization that…. YOU ARE NOT A COLLEGE STUDENT ANYMORE.
Have you ever had one of those mornings when you woke up, sat straight up in bed and said “Holy crap, I’m 25 years old?!?!?!” Well, I had one of those mornings in late November when I came to the realization that I had entered a new stage in life and would never be able to go back again. Now, don’t get me wrong, 25 is young. But there is something about turning a quarter-of-a-century that brings you to the scary realization that…. YOU ARE NOT A COLLEGE STUDENT ANYMORE.
I mean, you can fight it all you want to. You can dress like a college student (hooded sweatshirt anyone?), you can talk like a college student (abbreviate EVERYTHING), and you can even eat like a college student (mmm…. Hamburger Helper again), but eventually you might come to the same realization:
A. All the players on my favorite college sports teams are 4 years younger than me
B. Staying up until 10:30 is considered a late night
C. I say things after work like “the kids sure wore me out today
D. I look forward to watching Jeopardy…
This is NOT college anymore.
Getting older is a strange thing. When we talk about getting older we tend to focus only on age, when there are so many more factors involved. Am I a different person now than I was when I was 24? Not really, but just the mention of 25 puts me up in the next category of life. A category packed full of life-changing decisions.
The life of the quarterly aged is a unique experience and I often wonder how it would be different back in the United States. When I was teaching at Fruitport High School I was one of the only teachers my age, but here I live in the 20-something ghetto. It’s a weird post-college-pre-real-life stage that we find ourselves in.
Back in college I had a friend who made me promise to never get old. I mean… I could get older in age, but certainly not in spirit. Now I’m down here in Honduras spending most of my time with teenagers and she just got on a plane bound for Africa…. I feel as though we are doing a pretty good job.
Two weeks ago I was on a trip with the 10th grade class to go see some Mayan ruins. I was the only chaperone who: A. spoke English as a first language and B. didn’t have a spouse and kids. Throughout the trip I found myself much more willing to spend my time with the students than with the other adults. I wanted to sit by the students for meals, on the buses and walk around the town with them. I often wondered what was going through the other chaperones’ minds when they came across things like this:
- A field full of thirty 10th grade boys, half with their shirts off, running around with an American football and tackling each other in a free-for-all game of rugby. And there is Mr. Manting laying out some unsuspecting student.
- The entire 10th grade going in a chain down a water slide at a water park (possibly against about every single rule at the water park). Who is the first one down the slide? Manting again.
I kind of got some of the same looks last year as a chaperone for the Math team trip where I was playing a pool game of king-of-the-mountain for a good solid two hours. The 8th graders are still talking smack about how they are going to dunk me this year (keep dreaming boys).
As you can see, I’m probably not a such a great chaperone…
Long live youth
Here are my students learning all about the Mayan ruins
Monday, March 2, 2009
Service (1/7)
Day 1 of 7 straight days of blogging
It's the time of the year in Teguz where the weather just can't make up its mind. The day will start out playing the role of a cool fall day, and by noon the sun will be blazing down turning my classroom into a sauna. I feel as though days like these often mirror the moods of my students. Teaching high school can be an exercise in flexibility with exhausted students in one class, hyper students in the next, and then throw in an hour of (my least favorite and by far most awkward situation) crying teenage girls. You might say most days at school are like a box of chocolates, but these are HONDURAN CHOCOLATES and seriously you never have a clue what you are getting in to when you take that first bite (quesillo??).
Spring semester can be deceptively long. Christmas is by no means the half-way point of the year down here and the first semester does not even wrap up until late January. However, luckily for us here at IST, we have two week-long breaks that split up the post-Christmas time into manageable 6 week chunks. Most North American teachers take advantage of these breaks to travel around Central America, hit the beaches or see the sights. I decided to go and once again visit my second home: La Providencia.
La Providencia is the orphanage where I spent two summers working when I was in college. I have a lot of blood, and sweat (even some tears) invested in that place. This school year I have been trying to get there as much as possible to help out and because going there just seems like coming back home. Not in a "Michigan home" way or even a "Tegucigalpa home" way, but more like coming back to somewhere where I am comfortable and where I just seem to... fit.
This break I went to the orphanage with a specific purpose: manual labor. The job of high school teacher can be physically demanding at times, but I miss the feeling of carrying a bag of cement around or mixing a concrete volcano. The plan was that I would go and help out two guys from the US with the construction of the floor for the new orphanage cafeteria. These two guys, Buzz and Steve, donated their time along with thousands of dollars worth of materials to help out the "least of these". I wanted to be a part of it all. However, when I got there I was met with very different expectations.
-Well, I'm ready to serve! What do you need me to do?
-Actually... we don't need you to do any work. We have too many workers as it is. We just need you to translate.
-Oh...
Now, translating is not my strongest skill. Especially when I'm trying to explain materials and processes (that I don't really understand in English) into Spanish with a serious lack of construction vocabulary. It was... not what I was expecting and honestly after the first day I was questioning my decision to be there. I came to SERVE, to WORK, and this was just a lot of standing around and trying to explain the correct way to apply a finish epoxy coat. This was not the manual labor I was intending to do.
That night as I was praying, God really convicted me in regards to my motives for "service". I had come to the orphanage to serve... but on my own terms. I wanted to a work in a way where I felt useful, valued and productive. I wanted tangible results that someday I could point to and say, "I did that!" Buzz and Steve had told me that the ABSOLUTE BEST way I could serve them was to translate... even if it was broken... even if I didn't know how to say 'cement trowel'... even if it meant I was standing around most of the day.
I think all too often I approach God with a desire to serve... on my own terms. I want my service to get results, to be cost-effective, to matter. But it isn't our physical exhaustion that God desires, it is a humble heart. Some days a humble heart will look like a sweat-drenched shirt and calloused hands. Other days it may look like standing around and fumbling through some terms in a foreign language.
As I ponder what it means to serve God with my future plans I am struck with the example of Jesus. Service through a healing touch. Service down on His knees with a towel and a basin. Service through desperate tears in a garden. Am I willing to truly serve?
The New Cafeteria... seriously it's AMAZING
Here is what the dinning room floor will look like. It's crazy colorful for the kids
Here is a little look at what we were doing with the floor
Steve, Buzz, Douglas and me!
It's the time of the year in Teguz where the weather just can't make up its mind. The day will start out playing the role of a cool fall day, and by noon the sun will be blazing down turning my classroom into a sauna. I feel as though days like these often mirror the moods of my students. Teaching high school can be an exercise in flexibility with exhausted students in one class, hyper students in the next, and then throw in an hour of (my least favorite and by far most awkward situation) crying teenage girls. You might say most days at school are like a box of chocolates, but these are HONDURAN CHOCOLATES and seriously you never have a clue what you are getting in to when you take that first bite (quesillo??).
Spring semester can be deceptively long. Christmas is by no means the half-way point of the year down here and the first semester does not even wrap up until late January. However, luckily for us here at IST, we have two week-long breaks that split up the post-Christmas time into manageable 6 week chunks. Most North American teachers take advantage of these breaks to travel around Central America, hit the beaches or see the sights. I decided to go and once again visit my second home: La Providencia.
La Providencia is the orphanage where I spent two summers working when I was in college. I have a lot of blood, and sweat (even some tears) invested in that place. This school year I have been trying to get there as much as possible to help out and because going there just seems like coming back home. Not in a "Michigan home" way or even a "Tegucigalpa home" way, but more like coming back to somewhere where I am comfortable and where I just seem to... fit.
This break I went to the orphanage with a specific purpose: manual labor. The job of high school teacher can be physically demanding at times, but I miss the feeling of carrying a bag of cement around or mixing a concrete volcano. The plan was that I would go and help out two guys from the US with the construction of the floor for the new orphanage cafeteria. These two guys, Buzz and Steve, donated their time along with thousands of dollars worth of materials to help out the "least of these". I wanted to be a part of it all. However, when I got there I was met with very different expectations.
-Well, I'm ready to serve! What do you need me to do?
-Actually... we don't need you to do any work. We have too many workers as it is. We just need you to translate.
-Oh...
Now, translating is not my strongest skill. Especially when I'm trying to explain materials and processes (that I don't really understand in English) into Spanish with a serious lack of construction vocabulary. It was... not what I was expecting and honestly after the first day I was questioning my decision to be there. I came to SERVE, to WORK, and this was just a lot of standing around and trying to explain the correct way to apply a finish epoxy coat. This was not the manual labor I was intending to do.
That night as I was praying, God really convicted me in regards to my motives for "service". I had come to the orphanage to serve... but on my own terms. I wanted to a work in a way where I felt useful, valued and productive. I wanted tangible results that someday I could point to and say, "I did that!" Buzz and Steve had told me that the ABSOLUTE BEST way I could serve them was to translate... even if it was broken... even if I didn't know how to say 'cement trowel'... even if it meant I was standing around most of the day.
I think all too often I approach God with a desire to serve... on my own terms. I want my service to get results, to be cost-effective, to matter. But it isn't our physical exhaustion that God desires, it is a humble heart. Some days a humble heart will look like a sweat-drenched shirt and calloused hands. Other days it may look like standing around and fumbling through some terms in a foreign language.
As I ponder what it means to serve God with my future plans I am struck with the example of Jesus. Service through a healing touch. Service down on His knees with a towel and a basin. Service through desperate tears in a garden. Am I willing to truly serve?
The New Cafeteria... seriously it's AMAZING
Here is what the dinning room floor will look like. It's crazy colorful for the kids
Here is a little look at what we were doing with the floor
Steve, Buzz, Douglas and me!
Friday, February 27, 2009
Ben Manting 2.5
Welcome to the all new Ben Manting 2.5! For those of you who didn't know I apparently took a brief trip to Africa a month ago, lost my passport, and was on the brink of starvation!!! Or... at least that is what a mass email said that went out from my email account.
You see, on the fateful night of January 21st, 2009 my Google account was hacked by someone in Ghana and an email was sent out to all of my contacts with the story of my alleged African crisis. Of course, it had a nice little Western Union account where you could wire some money to save me from starving to death on the streets of Accra (the capital of Ghana, remember that, it might be a Final Jeopardy question someday). Of course, I was sitting comfortably in my classroom when I not only was having trouble getting in to my email, but then a steady flow of teachers came in my room and the following conversation ensued:
- You sent me the weirdest email last night
- I did?
- Yeah, it said you were stranded in Africa helping out AIDS research or something
- Nope... still here in Tegus
- Well, apparently you are starving on the streets of Ghana....
(Repeat this conversation 5x with teachers of varying gender and grade level)
The real tragedy of it all was that, after my account was so rudely hacked, it was then deleted. Gmail.... gone. Google reader.... done. Blog.... lost forever. I have held out for the past month hoping that somebody... ANYBODY at Google would kindly give me my account back, but to no avail. Apparently I do not know enough information about myself to warrant a return of my account.
So, I have finally lost hope in resurrecting my past account and decided to launch the new Ben Manting 2.5. New email (ben.manting@gmail.com), new blog (http://myheartstillbeatsinside.blogspot.com) and hopefully some new insight into my recent membership in the Quarter Century Club (wait?!?!? I'm 25 already??? How did that happen?)
I've had at least eleventy-billion blog posts floating through my head over the past month, so I am launching this new blog with a ambitious goal: I am going to post 7 blogs in 7 days! I hope the upcoming posts will serve as a little update to my life (post-stranded-in-Africa) and a glimpse into the triumphs, hardships and dreams that characterize this stage of my life.
You see, on the fateful night of January 21st, 2009 my Google account was hacked by someone in Ghana and an email was sent out to all of my contacts with the story of my alleged African crisis. Of course, it had a nice little Western Union account where you could wire some money to save me from starving to death on the streets of Accra (the capital of Ghana, remember that, it might be a Final Jeopardy question someday). Of course, I was sitting comfortably in my classroom when I not only was having trouble getting in to my email, but then a steady flow of teachers came in my room and the following conversation ensued:
- You sent me the weirdest email last night
- I did?
- Yeah, it said you were stranded in Africa helping out AIDS research or something
- Nope... still here in Tegus
- Well, apparently you are starving on the streets of Ghana....
(Repeat this conversation 5x with teachers of varying gender and grade level)
The real tragedy of it all was that, after my account was so rudely hacked, it was then deleted. Gmail.... gone. Google reader.... done. Blog.... lost forever. I have held out for the past month hoping that somebody... ANYBODY at Google would kindly give me my account back, but to no avail. Apparently I do not know enough information about myself to warrant a return of my account.
So, I have finally lost hope in resurrecting my past account and decided to launch the new Ben Manting 2.5. New email (ben.manting@gmail.com), new blog (http://myheartstillbeatsinside.blogspot.com) and hopefully some new insight into my recent membership in the Quarter Century Club (wait?!?!? I'm 25 already??? How did that happen?)
I've had at least eleventy-billion blog posts floating through my head over the past month, so I am launching this new blog with a ambitious goal: I am going to post 7 blogs in 7 days! I hope the upcoming posts will serve as a little update to my life (post-stranded-in-Africa) and a glimpse into the triumphs, hardships and dreams that characterize this stage of my life.
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