Christian Culture Shock

     According to the Merriam-Webster dictionary, culture shock is defined as “a sense of confusion and uncertainty sometimes with feelings of anxiety that may affect people exposed to an alien culture or environment without adequate preparation.”  I’ve decided that there needs to be a new derivative of this term that I’m calling “Christian culture shock.”  Just as I’m sure many of you know, there is a vast difference between Christian cultures throughout the United States.  The same is applicable and even more dramatic between continents.  Although I’ve had the opportunity to experience different Christian practices in a number of countries, I have never felt more out of my element than in Zimbabwe.  And as uncomfortable as it can be at times, I’m praising God for bringing me here.

     I’ve attended First Baptist Church of Reading since I was born and until the past few years, the only real interactions that I had with other churches were in attending Catholic services with my relatives.  Even in traveling the past few years, the majority of the churches that I visited held similar beliefs to my home church.  It wasn’t until I was immersed in Zimbabwean Christianity that I faced a major challenges to my faith.  Coming into contact with so many different denominations, beliefs, and practices has been a Christian culture shock that forced me to take a long, hard look at what I believe and where I stand with Christ.

     There were times during my stay here that I was so shocked by certain beliefs and practices that I felt compelled to do a quick internal check to make sure that I was even a Christian.  I see people having these incredible, dramatic experiences with the Lord during worship, but I worship quietly.  I have met more people than I can count who speak in tongues, but I speak to the Lord in English.  I’ve been asked what the exact date was that I was saved, but I’ve grown up in the Church and I couldn’t tell you the exact date or if there was one.  I’ve been told that I have allergies because I’m a sinner, but I repent and I know that Jesus died for my sins.  I’ve been told to invite my demon-possessed friends to church, but I’m pretty sure that I don’t have any.  Yet, despite how uncomfortable it is to question everything that I believe, it’s been a blessing.  I’ve had the opportunity to focus on what I believe and why I believe it.  I don’t want to follow something just because my pastor says that it’s correct (as many churches here do) and I don’t want to practice something just because it’s cultural.  I want to follow Christ and live a faith that is pleasing in His sight.

     In talking to Gordon and Bronwyn Chinamasa and experiencing it first hand, I’ve come to understand that Zimbabwe is not lacking Christianity, it’s lacking educated and accurate doctrine.  Just as I have, people here grow up in their Christian culture, being taught a certain set of beliefs.  Yet the difference is that they’ve never really had anyone challenge those beliefs.  If anything, they’ve been supported due to the speed at which churches are growing here.  As a response to this problem, I’ve been trying to ask people lots of questions.  I want to know what they believe and why they believe it.  I know that in facing controversy, my faith has been strengthened and my hope is that in bringing controversy, unbiblical beliefs will be brought to light (Proverbs 27:17).  If their beliefs are truly biblically based, then I can’t imagine that they wouldn’t have any problem supporting them.  What I’ve found, however, is that many people don’t have a biblical basis for their beliefs.  There follow a series of loop-holes and twisted interpretations that have become so main stream that it seems impossible not to believe them.  For example, I was talking to a girl the other day about the use of musical instruments in church.  Her church believes that it’s unacceptable to play anything except the piano during the service because the piano is solemn and pleasing to God.  I brought up the fact that pianos weren’t invented until far after the Bible was written and that there are many other instances where instruments are played in biblical times.  She didn’t have much to say in response.  Upon further discussion, I found out that I’m a sinner because I occasionally wear pants to church.  In her church, they take Deuteronomy 22:5 very literally: A woman shall not wear a man’s garment, nor shall a man put on a woman’s cloak, for whoever does these things is an abomination to the LORD your God.  I asked her if this verse could be interpreted more to mean that women should not try to be men and that men should not try to be women since we were all created with a specific design and purpose in mind.  Even though she was wearing pants at the time, she still wouldn’t agree that it could.

     Now don’t get me wrong, these extremes are absolutely not found in all churches here.  There are varying degrees of beliefs that are close to and far from those that I have come to hold as truth.  For instance, I have been attending Bulawayo Baptist Church while I’ve been here and have felt very much at home.  Their worship is similar to FBC, the sermons are clear and biblically based, and the people are above and beyond welcoming.  Having this church has been such a comfort to me.  At times when I thought that maybe it was my theology that was completely off, I found fellowship at Bulawayo Baptist to support me and remind me that my beliefs are well founded.  Overall, experiencing so many different churches and such a variety of Christian beliefs has been a great growing experience for me and I feel that it will be very useful in the mission field in the future.

Privilege

To be completely honest, I have been dreading writing this blog all week.  I literally have too much to say and the idea of writing about even just one of my experiences is overwhelming.  It’s a great thing that God has been showing me so much, but I wish sometimes that He’d make it possible for me to mentally record everything and burn it onto a disk.  Technology’s come that far right?

Anyway, what I’ve decided to write about is a theme that is surprisingly rather central to the missionary field: nationality and race.  Being raised in a family and church that are all about equality and acceptance, I never thought that these too unchangeable aspects of my identity would have such an influence on my work as a missionary.  However, since coming to Zimbabwe, I’ve realized how prominent they are.  More times than I can count, I’ve been the only white person in sight or stared at by children or been asked how great America is, but I think the most notable circumstance where I’ve found my race and nationality to be influential is at Precious Life.

Over the past few weeks the girls and I have spent quite a bit of time together and as the level of comfort has increased, so has the depth of our conversations.  They started out by asking me simple things about my life in the States such as where I go to school, what do I like to do in my free time, do I know any gangsters like the ones in music videos, etc.  Or they’d make comments on my hair or the fact that my skin turns pink when I’m hot.  Then the questions became about whether or not I have a car, how much a plane ticket to America costs, how much money can be made as a maid, and do I know any available white men.  Statements about how America is free of problems, white features being more beautiful than black, and an overwhelming desire to move to the States were also included.  They were actually confused when I told them that America’s not perfect, that we have problems too.  The idea that poverty, hunger, homelessness, teen pregnancy, and broken homes could be present in big shiny America was like being told that there isn’t really an overweight man in red velvet that squeezes his way down your chimney in the middle of the night to bring gifts once a year (scary image isn’t it..and the Easter Bunny?! Terrifying.)  Anyway, I became really uncomfortable with the idea that these girls idolized America to the point of thinking that they would literally have no problems if they could just make it across the Atlantic.  I will readily admit that I lived a blessedly privileged life, but it certainly isn’t the new age MTV inspired fairy tale that they imagine.

If that wasn’t appalling enough, I had a conversation with one of the girls that left me uneasy for the rest of the week.  This particular girl had stood out to me because of her constant inquisition about my American life.  It finally got to the point this week where she flat out told me that I was privileged, that I had come to Zimbabwe for my own benefit just like all of the other white people, that I was rich, that I didn’t know the real Zimbabwe because I was staying in a nicer suburb, that I was only serving here to make myself feel accomplished, and that my life was easy.  How do I possibly respond to that?  Here’s a girl who has made the assumption that I have no idea what hardship or hard work is because I’m white and, more importantly, because I’m American.  And the worst part of it was that I could hear the resentment in her voice.  Nothing I could say to defend myself was acceptable.

I left Precious Life that day feeling embarrassed about things that I had no control over.  I had come to Zimbabwe knowing that there was a stigma surrounding Americans, like in many other parts of the world, and I knew that I would be a minority as a white woman.  But I really didn’t know what to do when the girls I was trying to serve suddenly began making assumptions about my  life and reasons for coming to Zimbabwe based on those factors.  To make it worse, they all began asking for my phone number and email and address so that they could “come visit” or “call their American friend”.  To put it simply, I felt used and judged.

What I’ve had to keep telling myself is that there’s nothing that I can do about this.  People will make assumptions about me based on my nationality and race no matter where I go and all I can do is hope that my words and actions overcome their preconceived notions.  I firmly believe that God has blessed me with privilege for a reason.  He’s given me a heart for missions and it’s that privilege that makes going to places like Zimbabwe possible.  It isn’t me who benefits, it’s His kingdom.  And I can completely understand how someone like this girl at Precious Life might look at me and be resentful of the hand that God has dealt me.  But I’ve realized that she’s forgetting the fact that He has a plan for her life, just as He has a plan for mine.  God uses all of us for His good and perfect purposes.  Whether you’re rich or poor or American or Zimbabwean or white or black, we all play an important role in His greater plan.  In 1 Corinthians 4 Paul writes: “But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you or by any human court. In fact, I do not even judge myself.  For I am not aware of anything against myself, but I am not thereby acquitted. It is the Lord who judges me.  Therefore do not pronounce judgment before the time, before the Lord comes, who will bring to light the things now hidden in darkness and will disclose the purposes of the heart.”  I’m going to do my best to remember these verses in the coming weeks, especially when facing judgments and assumptions based on the situations that I’ve been born into.

On a side note, I was reading through the hymnal at church tonight and came across this hymn that I found to be really relevant to my walk with God at the moment:

It may not be on the mountain's height

It may not be on the mountain’s height, or over the stormy sea;
It may not be at the battle’s front my Lord will have need of me;
But if by a still, small voice He calls to paths I do not know,
I’ll answer, dear Lord, with my hand in Yours,
I’ll go where You want me to go.

I’ll go where You want me to go, dear Lord,
O’er mountain, or plain, or sea;
I’ll say what You want me to say, dear Lord,
I’ll be what You want me to be.

Perhaps today there are loving words which Jesus would have me speak;
There may be now, in the paths of sin, some wand’rer whom I should seek.
O Savior, if You will be my Guide, though dark and rugged the way,
My voice shall echo the message sweet,
I’ll say what You want me to say.

There’s surely somewhere a lowly place in earth’s harvest fields so wide,
Where I may labor through life’s short day for Jesus, the Crucified.
So, trusting my all unto Your care, I know You always love me!
I’ll do Your will with a heart sincere,
I’ll be what You want me to be.

Picture Post

The Lions Club of Khumalo where Precious Life runs its program.

This is Patience and her son Sibu.

I'm determined to remember all of the girls' names by the time I leave, but unfortunately I'm blanking on her name right now and I can't spell her son's name.

Victoria (left) is working with me in the creche and her daughter Courtney is the oldest of the kids that we teach.  On that note, Courtney is the first person ever to call me "Teacher".  I've come to find how odd the name Lauren is everywhere except the States, so I get a lot of new titles, but this one is by far the most formal.

Gloria (right) isn't a student at Precious life.  She works as a leader amongst the girls and does things such as leading morning devotions, making sure that supplies are available, and coming up with new ideas for improvement.  Oh and if you can't tell from the picture, she loves fashion and advocates for heels, no matter the occasion.

This is a room at Isaiah's were the kids are fed their porridge in the morning and where the staff can relax during nap time.  I think morning meal time might be my favorite time of day there.  The kids all come stumbling in, still in pajamas, with big smiles and hungry bellies.

Craig going down for a nap.

Tadiwa in an odd moment of seriousness.

Tea time!  I have never in my life had people treat tea as such a crucial part of the day.  Literally, when the tea's ready around 10am, everything comes to a complete halt.  No matter what I'm doing, I'm immediately alerted by multiple people that it's time for tea.  Then, even after I've gone and had a cup, they check to make sure that I haven't forgotten to get some.  The tea isn't just tea either.  It's accompanied by three very thick slices of bread.  I can't handle that much food considering I eat breakfast not even 3 hours before, so I always skip it.  After three weeks I still get asked daily why I don't eat my bread.  I would highly recommend Zimbabwe to the French.

 I went for a walk in the park nearby and found this tree.  I think I've taken about as many pictures of trees as I have of the kids because they're absolutely amazing...and climbable.  No worries, I haven't scampered up one yet and become the crazy American.  I'm waiting until no one's around for that.  I would also like to say thank you mum for the camera, I take pictures now just because I'm so impressed by the image quality.

Precious Life

I was a little confused about what the Precious Life program is and what exactly I would be doing at their drop-in center before I was recently given a formal introduction by the woman running the program, Agnes.  I’ve also just spent my first day working with Precious Life and I now feel very equipped to explain what the program offers and how I will be of service during my time in Zimbabwe.

The Precious Life program was established to help young mothers change the course of their lives.  This consists of two different elements, giving and educating:

The giving aspect involves the donation of baby supply packages to pregnant women within the Bulawayo area.  These woman can apply to the program and be placed on a waiting list (unfortunately they can’t support all of those in need) for a package of baby supplies.  At eight months pregnant, the women on the list can come get their package at the drop-in center.  Agnes explained to me that before the eight month mark, many women have been found to sell the supplies for cash because they aren’t in full acceptance of their pregnancy.  They would then be stuck with no supplies when the baby is born and the drop-in center has a necessary one package-per-mother policy.  I was a bit shocked that a pregnant woman could ever sell away the only baby supplies she had for her coming infant, but then I had to remind myself of the situations in which many of these women have gotten pregnant.  I realized how a little desperately needed cash in the moment could seemed much more logical than facing a harsh reality months down the road.

The educational aspect is much more involved and long-lasting.  The women apply again to Precious Life’s school and, if accepted, choose a trade to become skilled in: farming, hairdressing, or catering (management, cooking, or waitressing).  With my arrival, the option of learning how to provide childcare has also become available.  My role is to watch/educate the women’s children while they’re in class.  So far I have one assistant, Victoria, who hopes to work with children in the future either at Precious Life or in Zimbabwe’s school system.  I’m supposed to serve as an example to her because I have experience working in a preschool and she has been a great help to me because she’s a mother and native Zimbabwean.  Together, our goal is to a) take of the children b) allow the other mothers to study without distraction c) to create a sustainable childcare program that could be opened to the public to create revenue for the Precious Life program and its staff.

Today was my first day working with Precious Life at their drop-in center/school for hairdressing and catering and I can honestly say that I pleaded with God to give me guidance.  When I had originally met with Agnes to get a tour and discuss plans for the creche (daycare/preschool), I was left expecting roughly fifteen kids between the ages of one and four who would most likely have extremely limited English and possibly a helper who would be observing what I did for future reference.  Talk about intimidating.  However, after coming up with a rough plan, getting together some supplies, and leaving my success entirely up to God, I felt a bit better.  And true to form, He was there for me.  Victoria and I ended up with five kids, two of whom speak and/or understand English.  The only real difficulty came with their age differences, but we were able to adjust.  It was a nice and needed reminder that there’s no need to worry, God will always provide for those that seek Him.

Yet as fresh in my mind as that was, I left Precious Life today with a heavy heart.  The creche went well and I met many kind, God-loving people, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what happens before and after the program is in session.  These women, who are hardly more than girls, face daily challenges that I pray I never have to face.  I have never known motherhood or domestic abuse or abandonment by my family or prostitution or giving up a child or financial crisis or hunger.  I have never known what it’s like to not know if or when help might come.  These women are courageous beyond belief and I admire them so much for coming to Precious Life.  They sacrifice time out of their days and spend the precious little money that they have to catch a bus in search of fellowship and hope for a better future.  They have fought through what I consider impossible, but they know much better than I that with God all things are possible.  So as I’ve ached for these women, I’ve had to constantly remind myself that God will provide for them.  If not in this life, then the next.

Picture Post

 Tiny Darlene.  She smiles all the time, especially when you hold her.

This is Faith, my new hairdresser.  My only complaint is that my hair elastics get returned mysteriously covered in spit...

Nobuhle (Nonoza) looking like a little diva in her purple fur.  In just a few days she's already discovered which of my bracelets can be pulled off and worn with pride on her tiny wrists.

Matthew, the most independent child I've ever met.  He's perfectly content to play by himself all day with whatever he might find.  Today it was a package of baby wipes and a metal serving tray.  No matter what he's doing, he's always happy and giggling.  His adoptive family will be blessed to have him.

Nobuhle, Mthandazo, and Blessing.  They love being pushed around Isaiah's and the surrounding block.  Everyone they see along the way is greeted by "Hi!..Hi!..HIII!"  Well except for Mthandazo, who only ever seems to say "BYE!"

Yes

The day I left for Zimbabwe, Pastor Reid asked me how I was feeling about the trip.  I answered him by explaining that any nervousness or anxiety was overshadowed by the pure joy that comes in following God's lead.  For a long time I have been praying and praying that God would help me glorify His name in all that I do and that He would guide me to the ways and places in which I could best be of service to Him.  I continually sought assurances that, in making preparations to come to Zimbabwe, I was following a call to missions and not my own desires.  I begged Him to halt any plans if it was not in His timing or in His will.  Yet all along the way, He has answered my prayers and provided those assurances.  The incredible support that I have received (emotionally, financially, and through prayer), the coordination of many people in making arrangements, and the wonderful hospitality of the Taguma family are just a few of the many ways in which He affirmed that I was needed in Zimbabwe.  I must say though, the most outstanding assurance came when I found myself standing on the airport runway in Bulawayo.  As I drank in the African landscape, there was no sense of adventure or curiosity, no happiness at ending a long journey.  Instead I found myself smiling ear to ear at the relief I felt in knowing, down to my very core, that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.  As far as I can tell, that was His final "Yes."

The past few days have been spent getting acquainted with the Taguma family, Bulawayo, and Isaiah's Home.  I won't be starting at the Precious Life program's drop-in center until Monday, but I've already experienced so much that I'm happy for the slight delay.

I arrived at the Taguma's on Wednesday evening and was welcomed into their beautiful home by Rebecca and Ruth (their two-year-old daughter).  I honestly feel a bit spoiled as I sit in my own room with a fully functioning bathroom down the hall, access to internet, home-cooked meals, and gorgeous Zimbabwe everywhere I look.  However, it's more than easy to be reminded of the hardships that people face here.  Water and electricity is regularly cut-off, approximately one in every four children is orphaned, prices for necessities are constantly rising, homes are guarded from robbers by electric fences, and talking about politics is done in whispers.  Yet despite all of these negatives, faith abounds.  Churches are found at every turn, volunteers give up salaries in order to help others, and the belief that the Lord will provide is readily and regularly expressed.

The first day I went to Isaiah's, the woman who gave me a tour made a comment about how difficult being a missionary is and she explained how she has volunteered at Isaiah's for many years instead of working and earning a living.  I told her that I understood how difficult that must be and that I'm facing the same reality with missionary service.  She responded by saying, "You don't make money, but you make good.  You give life."  In a place where money is so desperately sought after, the people of Zimbabwe continue to work for God's kingdom, whether it be saving souls through the spreading of the gospel, or saving lives as the volunteers at Isaiah's have with so many of their babies.  Then today I worked with a man who has volunteered at Isaiah's for four months.  I asked him why he decided to volunteer at Isaiah's and what he had been doing beforehand.  He said that he had been a volunteer elsewhere until he felt the Lord calling him to come work with the children.  He was also added with a smile, "and God has provided for me."  With so little of this earth, they live by Matthew 6:19-21:

Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal.  For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also.

This faith has made me take a long, hard look at my own.  Would I be able to give up all means of supporting myself financially, with no safety net of savings, in order to serve God?  Could I follow Him wherever He might lead despite hardships or uncertainties?  I would very much like to say that yes, my faith is strong enough.  But saying the yes and living the yes are two completely different things and I'm sure that I won't be able to answer definitively unless such a situation arises.  Until then, I pray that I might never forget the confidence in the Lord’s provision that these two Zimbabweans hold.  They were confronted with a choice and they decided to rely on faith.  They said yes.

Walking beats driving here