October Miscellany

 I've been collecting a few random anecdotes, and I thought I'd compile them into one long-ish post ... some funny, some not.

You know how you say things sometimes that come totally different than how you intend them to sound?  Well, that kind of socially awkward stuff happens a lot more living in another culture.  Thankfully, I made a big cultural faux pas almost ten years ago in Ghana that I felt so embarrassed about for so long that eventually I said to myself, "This is silly.  You made a goof, just get over yourself already, and live your life.  The other guy probably forgot all about it five minutes later."  All of this is to say that I've learned (mostly) how to laugh off the little (or big!) cross-cultural mistakes I make from time to time.  My latest one was last week, when an American couple came over for a braai on Sunday afternoon with another family from Europe (father from France, mother from Italy).  Anyhow, the American man was asking me about my teaching experience, specifically, whether I had ever said something that was so totally outside of the Swazi cultural experience that students would just respond like, "NO!"  As he asked the question, I was thinking in my head that even if I ever did say something that students totally rejected, I would never know it.  It would be unthinkable to a Swazi to show such disrespect to a teacher, and especially a teacher with white skin (i.e. a guest, from another country), that they would visibly demonstrate that they rejected something I said.  I was thinking that it's difficult to tell how much of what I say in the classroom is being accepted or rejected by students.  So I was about to start explaining all this in my answer to his question.  And the first thing that came out of my mouth was, "You know, it's tough being a white man in Swaziland."  My friend laughed ... rightly so!!!  I went on to explain what I meant, of course, but the utter ridiculousness of the moment was pretty funny.  


This past week I got my hair cut at a local barber shop in town.  The barber is an Indian man, about my age, who has lived in Swaziland for several years.  His speaks very good English, but he is a very soft spoken man, and I often feel bad because it's really hard for me to understand what he is saying.  And I kind of hate asking him to repeat everything, because Americans already have a reputation for being really loud and obnoxious people -- and I don't want to reinforce that!  Anyhow, the point of this story is that there is a small bakery around the corner that has amazing baked goods for really good prices.  I usually will stop and buy something.  I especially like their cream-filled turnover cakes which they sell for E3.50 (about 40 cents).  I stopped and got one after my haircut, and this time it was especially large.  The woman put it in a small paper bag, and I left to go back to my car, eating as I walked.  I had just gone around the corner when an obviously poor man (maybe homeless, maybe not, but he looked mentally ill to me) walked by me on the street.  As soon as he saw the cake in my hand, his eyes lit up like it was a million bucks and a huge smile spread across his face.  As he approached me, he held out his hand.  [In America, this would be very rude; but it's not the same here.]  I didn't even stop to think about it -- his anticipation of eating some of that cake made me so happy that I broke off a large chunk of it and gave it to him.  Then we both went on our way.  It was one of the most purely and innocently delightful moments I've ever had in a cross-cultural context.  I usually don't hand things out to people on the street like that, for a multitude of reasons.  But this time was different.  And that little encounter, which happened in the space of about 2 seconds, made me smile all day long whenever I thought about it!  


It took me until I was a teenager to realize it, but nature has always one of the primary ways in which I connect with God (music is the other major one).  This weekend I've been harvesting the lemons off the lemon tree in our yard and juicing them for lemonade concentrate.  Every day that I've looked at that one lemon tree the last few months, I've been absolutely amazed at how many lemons are produced by that one tree.  I've probably picked well over 500 lemons, and there's about one third of the tree that I can't even reach.  As I was fighting thorns and dead branches climbing up and picking all those lemons, I was thinking all the time about how that tree so perfectly illustrates what God is like.  There is not one single solitary thing that I have done to make that tree produce its lemons -- and yet, not only has that tree produced more lemons than I can use, it's produced more lemons than I can even get off the tree!  God provided overabundantly; yet, He did so in such a way that requires effort in order to harvest.  And it's like that with every single bit of food that we eat.  God produces the food we eat, but we must work in order to eat it.  It's one of the many powerful lessons taught in Genesis 2 ... and by that simple lemon tree in our very own yard.


Since Cassia was born, we have not been able to attend the Anglican Cathedral very much.  Their English service starts at 8am, and it's just been really hard to get everyone up, fed, and to church that early in the morning.  So we've been going to a later service at another church where we know quite a few people.  Anyhow, we were going to a friends house for brunch this morning, so everyone got up early and went to the Anglican church.  We were late, but we made it!  [A little background: you must understand that my church background growing up was pretty stringent fundamentalist.  I grew up hating the hymn "Just As I Am" for all the guilt-ridden reasons why the hymn is so derisively mocked in evangelical Christian culture at large.]  Anyhow, one of the communion hymns this morning was ... well, I guess I don't have to tell you.  And I found myself singing it whole-heartedly, which really surprised me.  And when I thought about it, I realized the reason why.  The hymn makes PERFECT SENSE when it's sung as a Eucharistic hymn.  And there's a humongous difference between walking up the aisle: 1) motivated by guilt in response to an emotionally-stirring sermon preached by a human with the specific intent of eliciting an emotional reaction from you; and 2) motivated by eager anticipation of receiving the Body and Blood of a person who tasted the worst death anyone can suffer so that you might have His very life.  The emotional response to the song is entirely changed!  Rather than guilty and remorseful that I have to come "just as I am," I come thankful that Christ accepts me "just as I am."  The meaning of this stanza in particular completely turns on its head:

Just as I am, tho' tossed about,
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings within and fears without,
O Lamb of God, I come!  I come!

I have lived long enough to understand the deep truth of this description of the realities of life.  We are tossed about in life, with many conflicts and doubts both inside and out, many kinds of fighting and fears.  And there is one place where Jesus has promised to meet us every single time, with no question or reservation ... that is, in the Eucharist.  And He meets us there, just as we are.