It's All Worth It

It's been a long week. I'll admit that I'm tired. I'm drained physically, emotionally, spiritually. And at times this past weekend I even wondered what in the world I'm doing here in South Africa. Someone asked me at church on Sunday if I thought I would come back to Durban after my term was finished. For the first time I couldn't answer because I was afraid of what I might say. If I had been given the chance, I probably would have packed my bags and been on the first flight home.
Thankfully, I wasn't given that chance. I'm still tired (even after taking a much needed day off on Tuesday), but yesterday I received a very encouraging note from a very unexpected person. Every Wednesday and Friday afternoon, I have the privilege of handing out bread and cakes to some children. I know I'm probably not supposed to have favourites among the kids, but there are a couple that wiggle their way into my heart a little more than the rest. Meshack is one of them. He and thirteen others live in a small two-bedroom flat, and I tend to give him a little more bread than the rest because I know that it will not go to waste in his family. Anyways, yesterday he handed me a little letter from his father. It said:

Dear Provider
We would just like to say thank you for all the breads you provide and to say God bless you and help you to continue with your good deeds and we love you.

Just a simple little note. Just a few short lines. And yet it makes it all worth it. All the tears. All the frustration. All the discouragement. It's all worth it.

 

One Year

As of tomorrow, it has officially been one year since I stepped off a plane in Cape Town and started a new phase of my life here in South Africa. I know most people generally reflect on the year in December or the beginning of January, but I feel like this anniversary is also a good time for reflection.
When I think of the past year, I see a lot of mountains and valleys...there have been some amazing times and some not-so-amazing times. I have learned a lot (including some things I never had any desire to learn about) and grown, both as a person and in my faith. Some of these lessons include:

1. Speaking the same language as another person does not automatically mean you will understand what they are saying. I have heard so many different accents in the last year that I have come to the conclusion that there is no such thing as a "South African accent". Also, there are so many words that mean different things...like vest or robots. And to top it off, people will often just throw in a Zulu or Afrikaans word just to confuse me. And don't even get me started on grammar. Just because everyone speaks English here does not mean that I have not had to do any language learning.
2. It's okay to have a bad day. There. I've admitted it. Not every day has been peaches and cream. There have been days when I just want to come home and cry on my couch and I wonder why on earth I am here in Durban. And that's okay. And it's even okay to admit it to someone else and tell them that I need some help. Or just need someone to vent and express my frustrations to. 
3. It's also okay to say no. Okay. I admit it. This is a lesson that I am currently learning. And I'm not sure that I'm learning it very well. But I'm slowly learning that I can't commit to everything, and I'm not going to be very effective in ministry if I don't take time to spend a day with God and just resting. 
4. I have an amazing family. Coming here has helped me realize just how blessed I am to have grown up in the family that I did. My parents did a pretty good job of raising me (if I do say so myself) and showed me what a godly marriage looks like and how to raise a family in a godly manner. My entire family has been so supportive of me, my ministry, and it was so cool to be able to share with them a little bit of what I do when they came to visit over Christmas. 
5. There aren't lions in everybody's backyard here. Okay, I may have known that before coming here. However, there are so many stereotypes out there about Africa, and it has been interesting to see how few of them are true...at least here in Durban. My experiences in South Sudan colored my idea of what South Africa would be like, which was a mistake on my part. Comparing South Sudan to South Africa is like comparing curry to a hamburger. You can't just assume that all of Africa is the same. Even though I knew that in my head before arriving here, I don't think I fully comprehended how different it would be.
6. I need to fully rely on God. Sometimes I am way too independent for my own good. I want to lean on myself, and I can't. I can't do anything worthwhile on my own. This has been one of the hardest lessons for me to learn. I want to change people, help them to know Jesus, and give them hope. But I can't do this without completely relying on God every step of the way. This was made even more clear to me when my teammates left at the end of November for Canada. When I couldn't rely on myself, I would sometimes rely on them and their wisdom and expertise. And now I can't. So I'm forced to rely on God. It has been a good lesson to learn, but a hard one as well.
7. The family of God is one of the greatest blessings God has given us. I have such an amazing church family in Canada. And I have an equally amazing one here in Durban. They both support me, encourage me, and are there when I need them. Thank you all so much!
8. The more you get to know someone, the more you realize how much each person needs Jesus. I have made several good friends this past year, and when I hear their stories I just hear the hopelessness that they are feeling. They have no hope for this life on earth, and they have no hope for when they die. I was asked the other day why I do what I do. And this is why I do it - to bring hope to those who have no hope. To show them that there is light in a world of darkness. And that there can be freedom from the slavery and bondage that they live in. 

Of course, there have been other things I have learned as well. Like what side of the road to drive on, how to drive a manual car in an extremely hilly city, how to eat curry with my hands, and how to not cry while eating said curry. 

It has been one of the hardest and best years of my life. I've cried a lot and laughed even more. I have been extremely frustrated in situations only to later see that God was perfectly controlling the situation all along. And through it all, I have seen God's continual faithfulness. 

Broken Hearted

The last few weeks have been very emotionally draining for me.
In the past, I've said that I wanted my heart to be broken by the things that break God's heart. In the back of my mind, I thought that meant things like poverty, homelessness, widows and orphans, and sickness. However, in the last couple weeks I have realized is that maybe what really makes God sad is when He looks at the world and sees how messed up we human beings are because of sin.

We live in a very broken world, and I am just now beginning to realize how dysfunctional it really is. I was very blessed to be raised in the home that I was (although I may not have realized it at the time!) which resulted in me being fairly sheltered and unaware of the utter brokenness that constantly plagues society. But I'm not sheltered anymore, to say the least.

When I came to South Africa, I didn't understand that part of what happens when you become involved in people's lives and they trust you, you start to see parts of their lives that you sometimes wish didn't exist. Things like abuse, anger, rape, abortion, bitterness, jealousy, and divorce. Things that just make me want to weep and cry and plead for God's mercy. And it results in a deep sadness in me because there is an underlying knowledge that nothing I do can really change anything. I can listen to their stories. I can let them cry on my shoulder. I can pray for them. I can try to offer words of comfort or encouragement. But in the end, only God can truly change a person. Only God can take away that pain from broken relationships and abuse and violence. Only the Holy Spirit can take away that anger and bitterness and jealousy. Only Jesus can save and rescue a person - not just for eternity, but starting in this life as well.

My heart has truly been broken in the last few weeks. I'm still debating whether or not that is a good thing. In the end, I'm sure it will be good. Right now I'm still not sure...

Just a Quick Funny Story

Today I was visiting one of my favourite families. They have basically adopted me, and I spend quite a bit of time at their place. Anyways, they were attempting to teach me how to make roti, which is kind of like an Indian flatbread that they eat with all their curries. Attempt is the key word in that sentence...apparently all my experience in rolling out pie dough did not help in the rolling out of roti. Anyways, as we were laughing at my not so circular roti, someone made a blonde joke. I quickly protested, as I was clearly the only blonde in this Indian household. "Oh no," they quickly assured me, "You're not blonde...you're Canadian!"
So now I'm trying to figure out if that was a compliment or not. Is it better to be blonde or Canadian? And isn't it possible to be both? Because I certainly thought I was...maybe I've been wrong all these years!

Creativity...or not

If there is one thing I have learned over the last 23 years, it is that I don't have a creative bone in my body. I don't know how to come up with new and exciting ways to communicate ideas to others in a way that will stick with them. If someone tells me exactly what to do, I can try and follow their directions and something mildly successful might occur. But please, please, PLEASE don't ask me to come up with a creative idea on my own.
And yet, it keeps happening. People forcing me to be creative in order to teach and share new ideas. I knew I would have to go out of my comfort zone when I came to South Africa, but I didn't think it would be into this area. Thankfully no one has asked me to teach an art class. Yet. But they've come close.
For example, the other day I was helping out with a park ministry (similar to a one-day VBS since the schools are on holiday for this week). My role wasn't much - mostly helping keep the kids in line and improvise a short lesson when we split into small groups for discussion. However, as I was leaving, Pastor and I had a short conversation:

Pastor: Amanda, we are having park ministry again in December.
Me: Okay...
Pastor: It's going to be three days this time.
Me: Okay...
Pastor: So you will write a skit to share the lesson.
Me: What?!?
Pastor: And maybe draw a poster to show what we're talking about.
Me: Um...I don't know if I can do that. (If you have ever seen my attempts at artwork, you would know that I am telling the honest truth and not just trying to get out of doing something.)
Pastor: Sure you can.
Me: No, I really don't think I can.
Pastor: Well, we'll talk about it more later. But just start thinking about it. And working on it.

And that's the end of the conversation. Just for the record, I also don't know what the theme of this park ministry is supposed to be. Perhaps it is up to me to come up with a theme?  Sigh. Pray for some idea of creativity to come into this very uncreative brain.

Culture Shock

Culture shock.
Those two words that every missions or cross-cultural course tells you about. They tell you what the relative timeline of it will be. The symptoms of it. How to overcome it.
And yet it still doesn't seem to be enough.

I was arrogant enough to think that I had escaped culture shock. Yes, there was a short period in my first month in South Africa where I realized that I had it, but that quickly went away, and I just went on with my everyday life (whatever that is). I often am asked what the major differences are between South Africa and Canada, and half the time I can't even really think of them. So I just assumed that I had adapted to this beautiful country and was safe from the dreaded culture shock.

And then someone pointed out to me that I was experiencing culture shock without even realizing it. What?!? How could I be experiencing culture shock? I didn't have any of the classic signs. I wasn't feeling sad or lonely. I wasn't angry or unwilling to interact with others. I wasn't overly concerned with my health. I wasn't idealizing Canada or creating stereotypes of South Africa (believe me, there are so many stereotypes already existing in South Africa that I don't need to create anymore!). If I wasn't experiencing any of those things, how could I be in culture shock?

I was, and still am, experiencing a different kind of culture shock. One where I am literally in shock after spending time with people. I don't know how to deal with their stories. I just sit there open-mouthed and wonder how on earth these people have lived such different lives than I have. I honestly don't understand it. At first, I was sad and felt so sorry for them when I heard their initial stories. Then I watched them interact with their friends and families. They opened up more to me and I heard more about who they are and why. And I realized I wasn't sad anymore - I'm angry! I'm angry with them because their stories are one-sided. They don't realize that much of the reason they have such hardships is because of their own choices. I am not trying to say that they haven't had extremely hard lives or that circumstances have had no influence on where they are today. However, instead of overcoming circumstances, they seem to blame them or others for everything that is wrong in their lives. And the reason I am angry with them is because these people are my friends, and they don't want to see that the lives that they are living are leading them down a path of destruction. I'm angry that they are hurting themselves. (Please note - this is not a generalization of all South Africans. This is simply what I have experienced with a couple of ladies and their families. Not everyone that I work with is like this.)

So I guess I have experienced culture shock. I have been sad. I have been angry. I get frustrated with their inability to see things the way I see them. But I don't think that this culture shock is something that will just pass away with time - in fact I don't want it to. I don't want to just accept their sin or lifestyle as something that is okay. I want to be challenging them, forcing them to look at their lives with new eyes, and see that maybe there is another way that is better. Not MY way, but JESUS' way.

Hurts and Bondage

I know that it’s been a while since I have written, and I apologize for that. I have no real excuse, other than the fact that writing is not my favourite thing to do. And I just realized that I’m always apologizing for not blogging…which I don’t think I should be doing. I don’t know. It’s too late and there’s too much going on in my head for me to really think clearly.

Anyways, Saturday was a crazier day than expected. Early in the morning, my phone decided that it did not want to live anymore. You can roll your eyes at me, but I rely quite heavily on my phone. It is my main means of communication, especially since I don’t have a landline. I also tend to check e-mails on it, listen to music, and stay up to date with the world with it. I know, I know, I’m too reliant on my phone. I’m realizing that more and more this week as I go without it.

On Saturday morning, though, I was supposed to be helping with a holiday club in the park. Holiday club is simply the South African version of VBS, except this one wasn't quite as organized and it took place in a park. After a bit, I managed to get an e-mail a friend of mine who messaged the man who was supposed to be picking me up to find out what time he was arriving. Once there, it was slightly chaotic. There were about 40-50 kids total, including a dozen kids who were under the age of 4, and some were still not quite potty trained (as I found out when holding one in my lap). The kids were of all ages, backgrounds, and races. The boys basically played soccer for most of the day, when they weren't having a simply Bible story. The girls required a little more to make them happy… somehow I ended up being in charge of helping them make beaded necklaces – something that is not exactly my gifting, but we all learned together.

While we were making necklaces, two little girls who are sisters latched onto me. One is 4 and her older sister is 5. The younger one was telling me quietly how her father beat her. My heart started breaking. In a society like South Africa, what do you do when you hear that? You can’t really do anything. Anyways, she kept going on about how she didn't like the dark, and how she scared easily. And all I could do was hug this tiny little girl and pray for her. Later I found out that her father had actually shot himself in front of her and her sister two years ago, and her mother is not exactly a model of an upstanding citizen. These little girls are basically on their own and traumatized. I just feel so helpless. There is a Christian lady who lives in a flat near to them that keeps an eye on them, but she can only do so much.

I am starting to think the worst feeling in the world is knowing that someone is hurting and being unable to do anything for that person. And it is a situation that I find myself in more and more. It can be physical hurt like hunger, but it seems to be emotional hurt more and more. I hear stories that break my heart, and it seems like I can do nothing except pray for the person.

And then there is the spiritual pain and bondage I see every day as well. The women trapped behind their veils, the fear of the evil eye, the endless rituals of bowing and not eating during this month. I know that JESUS CHRIST is greater than any other power, but sometimes it just seems so oppressive and hopeless. I know that I have been called to make a difference in this area, but how? How, when everywhere I look, there is another lady who does not know Jesus, and is so fearful of stepping out into the hope and light He offers? How, when the Christian ladies I talk to think that it is wonderful that I have been called to do this, but think that they could never talk to one of their neighbours like that?

Saturday afternoon, after holiday club, Dave and I went out to a friend’s to try and fix my phone. After looking at it, he sent us to another of his friends to see if he could do anything with it. Long story short, we were invited to their house that evening in the hopes that he could fix it before I left for Cape Town the next morning. We gave them a lift to their home and stopped at the Bangladeshi market on the way. Dave and A* stayed back while S* and I headed into the actual market. We must have looked a sight…S* is a fully veiled lady, whereas I was in my jeans and hoodie (just for the record, I don’t normally dress like that when doing ministry, but I hadn't really planned on going on, plus I didn't have time to change after holiday club), but she didn't seem to have a problem with it. She was happily introducing me to all of her friends, all of whom are Indian. I think I was the only white person in the market!

As we were talking, I discovered that she used to be a Christian and converted about five years ago. Once again, my heart broke and I was (and still am) so confused. How? How could someone give up the joy and freedom of Christianity for the oppression and slavery of a religion that has no hope or assurance? Why? I don’t understand. Perhaps she was never a true believer to begin with, but I still don’t understand why she would willingly choose to follow a religion that basically requires her to be lonely as she hides from the world.

I am hoping to meet with her again when I return from Cape Town. Perhaps she can clarify why she has chosen the path that she is on. And perhaps I can help show her the hope and light of Jesus, so that she can break free of the spiritual bondage she is in.