"Finally, brothers, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable - if anything is excellent or praiseworthy - think about such things .... And the God of peace will be with you." Philippians 4:8
...expectations
In missionary orientation before we ever left the United States, our instructors outlined expectations for cultural adjustment. We would see all the good, quaint, and lovely at first, followed by a time of crashing down to earth, seeing all the bad, distressing, and ugly. In order to adjust, we were told, we must see both, come to terms with it all and not count it as better or worse than our home culture, just different.
...experience
True to form as we arrived in Estonia, the quaintness of medieval Old Town in Tallinn, the flower stalls lining the sides of the streets, the towering rows of century old oak trees, the serenity of the sea, and the myriad minute differences that made Estonia special caused an immediate infatuation. Eventually, the downside of living in the former Soviet Union became apparent as well. Coming to terms with these issues, my heart fell in love with not only the place, but the people. Certainly living in Estonia was not better or worse than the U.S., just different.
...entering
My love affair with the people and places of Cameroon has gotten off to a very different start. I expected to go through these same stages, but somehow I skipped the first one and went straight to the second, seeing all the bad, distressing, and ugly. From the minute we stepped off our plane into the muggy, smelly airport without any of our 18 pieces of luggage we experienced bumpy roads, dirt, dirt, and more red dirt, rain, uncomfortable transportation, termites, cockroaches (and plenty of other bugs), and even uncomfortable benches in church. The house needed attention, the luggage needed to be found, and everything around seemed distressing. In a word, it all seemed worse. Not only was it worse than the U.S., it was worse than Estonia as well. Several weeks ago, self-assessing my difficulty in having a good attitude in this new place, I realized that I had completely hopped over a key step in my cultural adjustment. The reason for this remains unclear to me. Perhaps I was so wrapped up in saying good-bye that I never prepared myself for the next step. Perhaps I never took time to anticipate the good that God had in store for me. Whatever the reason, I failed to see anything good, quaint, or lovely.
...engaging
Thus, I resolved to fall in love with Cameroon. After all, isn't love really more than infatuation, but a matter of the will? I asked God to change m vision, to help me see the lovely, to notice the praiseworthy, to help me grow to love the people of Cameroon. And amazingly enough, my perspective is changing, not by leaps and bounds, but in small increments each day. A mother steps gracefully, baby bound to her back, bundles in each hand, as she walks home from market balancing her groceries for the week on her head. The me, women, and children of our campus chat cheerfully as they parade past our home each morning on the way to carry water home from the campus well. Our cook laughs heartily at the antics of our four-year-old, and relates stories of her own family. I see cheerful, friendly, laid back yet hard working people. The 400 students sing with gusto and dance enthusiastically as we begin our weekly vespers service, praising God with all their hearts, our small chapel resounding with the beat of the drums. And I am glad. Glad to be part of these lives, these ones who will one day lead the churches of Cameroon. Glad to praise God alongside them. Glad to embrace the challenge of living here. Glad to know that God can change my heart too. Glad to see a glimmer of love beginning to grow in my heart. The "God of peace" is still with me, as He promised, offering peace to me in the place where He has transplanted me.
...expectations
In missionary orientation before we ever left the United States, our instructors outlined expectations for cultural adjustment. We would see all the good, quaint, and lovely at first, followed by a time of crashing down to earth, seeing all the bad, distressing, and ugly. In order to adjust, we were told, we must see both, come to terms with it all and not count it as better or worse than our home culture, just different.
...experience
True to form as we arrived in Estonia, the quaintness of medieval Old Town in Tallinn, the flower stalls lining the sides of the streets, the towering rows of century old oak trees, the serenity of the sea, and the myriad minute differences that made Estonia special caused an immediate infatuation. Eventually, the downside of living in the former Soviet Union became apparent as well. Coming to terms with these issues, my heart fell in love with not only the place, but the people. Certainly living in Estonia was not better or worse than the U.S., just different.
...entering
My love affair with the people and places of Cameroon has gotten off to a very different start. I expected to go through these same stages, but somehow I skipped the first one and went straight to the second, seeing all the bad, distressing, and ugly. From the minute we stepped off our plane into the muggy, smelly airport without any of our 18 pieces of luggage we experienced bumpy roads, dirt, dirt, and more red dirt, rain, uncomfortable transportation, termites, cockroaches (and plenty of other bugs), and even uncomfortable benches in church. The house needed attention, the luggage needed to be found, and everything around seemed distressing. In a word, it all seemed worse. Not only was it worse than the U.S., it was worse than Estonia as well. Several weeks ago, self-assessing my difficulty in having a good attitude in this new place, I realized that I had completely hopped over a key step in my cultural adjustment. The reason for this remains unclear to me. Perhaps I was so wrapped up in saying good-bye that I never prepared myself for the next step. Perhaps I never took time to anticipate the good that God had in store for me. Whatever the reason, I failed to see anything good, quaint, or lovely.
...engaging
Thus, I resolved to fall in love with Cameroon. After all, isn't love really more than infatuation, but a matter of the will? I asked God to change m vision, to help me see the lovely, to notice the praiseworthy, to help me grow to love the people of Cameroon. And amazingly enough, my perspective is changing, not by leaps and bounds, but in small increments each day. A mother steps gracefully, baby bound to her back, bundles in each hand, as she walks home from market balancing her groceries for the week on her head. The me, women, and children of our campus chat cheerfully as they parade past our home each morning on the way to carry water home from the campus well. Our cook laughs heartily at the antics of our four-year-old, and relates stories of her own family. I see cheerful, friendly, laid back yet hard working people. The 400 students sing with gusto and dance enthusiastically as we begin our weekly vespers service, praising God with all their hearts, our small chapel resounding with the beat of the drums. And I am glad. Glad to be part of these lives, these ones who will one day lead the churches of Cameroon. Glad to praise God alongside them. Glad to embrace the challenge of living here. Glad to know that God can change my heart too. Glad to see a glimmer of love beginning to grow in my heart. The "God of peace" is still with me, as He promised, offering peace to me in the place where He has transplanted me.
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1 comment:
Love is an act of the will. That says it all, doesn't it. I hope that somewhere along the way you get to meet Mindy and Efi Tembon. Mindy was supported by Bethel here in Bradenton. She originally planned to go with BGC/Wycliffe, but that didn't work. She's affiliated with Wycliffe. Her husband Efi is Cameroonian. They've just returned to Cameroon for their new term of service with Wesley, their son.
Bethel fell in love with Efi when they came down here this past winter.
When I read your posts, I remember my days in Haiti and the dirt roads, the smell, and all the other things you wrote about in this post.
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