Tuesday, September 19, 2006

Under Compulsion

While I lived in the states, a constant nagging lingered behind my smile and daily service. I generally enjoyed my work, my ministry with youth and music, and my community; but something beyond my daily interactions was lacking. As I clearly saw this summer, many Christians are exactly where God would have them to be. They live, work, and love intensely and contentedly. But for me, even as I served and gave three years ago, I was left unfulfilled.

Two stories with a common theme:

A student’s father spoke in chapel last week. Noel shared his testimony regarding how he and his family came to Indonesia. Amongst various jobs stateside, Noel got a counseling degree, did Christian counseling, trained to be a fireman, and served in youth ministry. After serving at one church as a youth minister for a few years, he and his wife felt it was time to move to another position. Here’s where God spoke. Noel visited a youth conference where several Christian Service organizations were represented. While having recently submitted resumés to several churches for a new job, Noel was confronted with a challenging worldview at the conference. One of the Noel’s prospective churches had received more than 30 resumés for a single youth ministry position. Contrastingly, one international organization at the conference was shaking the barrel to find one willing and able person to send to any one of 10 Unreached People Groups (UPG). Get that: 30 competitors for a single youth ministry position, as compared to 10 UPGs without a single message bearer. The option was clear. Noel and his family were willing. Noel and his family were able. Noel and his family went.

Peter was nearing graduation with college and a world of options looming ahead. Peter’s parents and grandparents are both doctors who have served in Borneo for almost 50 years. Peter subsequently grew up in Central Borneo speaking three languages with only occasional visits to his country of allegiance. When posed with the question of future outlook, Peter responded with great wisdom: “Seeing as there are so many Christians in the states who are not called, willing, or perhaps able to serve overseas, if I am willing and able, shouldn’t I go?” We teachers realized that we had just become students.

The Great Commission from Matthew 28 is best understood from the perspective of “As you are going….” Thus, where we find ourselves, that is where we are to serve, give, share, and love. However, for some, God places us where we can learn, grow, and gain experience for a future service. If this is you, then take heart and listen. There are more than enough Christians in the United States to transform the entire country. However, there are several hundred million people in the world with not one messenger of the gospel. Would you be one? And if not, would you be one to serve in other areas to enable that messenger to go?

Mountainview International Christian School currently sits with a shortage of educators. The school has had to cut a number of electives due to a lack of qualified teachers. And teaching is but one supportive role in Christian Service. Medicine, administration, financial accounting, logistics, and leadership training are some of the other areas of service that are needed throughout the world.

So, when asked why I live and work outside of the states, the response comes easily: Because I am compelled. Are you?

What I’ve written here barely scratches the surface of this conversation. If you would like to discuss this train of thought further, please comment or write me a personal email.

Sunday, September 03, 2006

Dwi and Yogho

Today I went to a neighbor’s wedding, Dwi and Yogho. I hadn’t met Yogho yet; he and his family live behind us. Music advertising the ceremony blared throughout the kompung – neighborhood – for nearly two days, save a few hours in the late night and early morning. As I walked around the two corners to the soccer field adjacent to our block, several men I knew approached me, seemingly surprised that I was attending the gala. Granted this is the first time I’ve attended a wedding in my own neighborhood, it was still shocking how excited my friends were that I was there.

One man, Pak Isro, his wife and two children in tow, invited me to attend with them. We walked under the tent, signed our names to the guest book, and shook hands with the entire wedding party, 28 in all. The bride shook my hand vigorously, accompanied by many words of thanks while her new husband smiled politely at her enthusiasm. Pak Isro commented with a sly grin that it’s not often an “orang asin” comes to honor a kompung wedding.

Everyone was beautifully adorned. In the states, shirts and ties, skirts and blouses are the norm. Here, everyone wears their best. Women spend hours at the salon having stints added, pulled up, and hair sprayed to the texture of concrete. I wore my batik shirt, which is appropriate, but most couples wore matching outfits of shimmering fabrics and intricate embroidery. I guess I’ll be doing shopping.

After multiple plates of food, sharp tasting beverages, and plenty of live Javanese singing, my full stomach prompted me to move toward the exit. The man organizing the entertainment intercepted me to ask if I’d like to sing. Knowing that he wasn’t joking, I thought it best that I didn’t either. “No, but thank you,” I declined attempting to do so without a tremor. With 300 guests chatting and eating, all the while the number increasing, I dropped an envelope in the locked box at the sign-in and followed my guide, Pak Isro, out the front entrance.

Only 14 days until my next friend’s wedding. And now I know not to eat before I go.