Overcoming Fear.

If you have not yet, scroll down and go through my previous post with the many photos.  I have some funny stories, but this post deserves it’s own space.

Life this past week has been suspended between much more contemplation about religions, the role of a pastor and what’s church etc.  Sometimes I have been stuck in feelings of inadequacy, but that comes alongside an increasing love for this country.  More talks with others about passions and fears.  I have had the most up-and-down week so far.  I will focus in on an illustration of that—where a mixture of hope, fear, confusion and providence come together to create a strong mix of emotion.

What I will write is by no means something I have figured out.  Much is what I have received from others and what I write is what I aspire towards.  Please read the entire post, for it will only make sense if you read it all.

Well, I will cut right to the intensity of this past weekend.

I visited the city of Solo this weekend and after church was finished I was informed that there was a suicide bombing in another church in the city.  A man, linked to extremist Islamic groups, walked into the church, sat among the people, and initially failed to detonate his explosion.  As people were leaving the church, the explosion occurred. Shocking.  Horrible. Confusing.

It made the front page of Indonesian news, and was a top story on the BBC. However, eschewed the news releases are, it is known that 2 people were killed, over 20 injured.

Much can be left to ones imagination as to why and how this happened.  Although, we do not know, the church that was chosen for the attack was seemingly random.   For a suicide bombing to occur at a church in Indonesia, this is a first.  The motives of those, whom supported the man whom carried out the attack, and the man himself, are a mystery to me in many ways. 

Of course we can point to easy answers to that question, but deep down, what leads people to do ultimately commit to do something where they are willing to die?  What leads one to see the world through which an extremist Muslim views the world?  I think these are questions that are tougher than we make them out to be.

What about the Christian and Muslim neighbors whom share this world with those whom express the worldview of the suicide bomber?  How have our actions led to their view of the world?  How can our actions led their ultimate commitment in life to change? How have we failed?  How have we succeeded?  What must we Christians continue to do in this face of this and what must we consider changing? 

This is me expressing not one sole emotion and way of thinking.  A mix of confusion, being afraid, anger and self-critique fill me.  It is things like this incident that can seriously change the way I, along with the rest of us, think about the world.   

We can choose to fear death, fear our neighbors, fear the other.

We can run to what we think is safety, and sacrifice what living providentially in God’s world means. 

We can be willing to sacrifice the other, in our feeble attempts to stay safe.

We can live bound together by collective fear.  

When such a stunning act occurs, we can decide collectively to live as Satan wants us to live—in perpetual fear.  In constant doubt, worry and exclusiveness of the other—in this environment, to live as Christ lived becomes suppressed and suffocated.

However, this all changes when I don’t accept a suicide bombing or anything that goes against the grain of God’s kingdom as the end.  For my life is lived within the ultimate commitment that it is Christ whom puts the history of the world in a different trajectory.  In the words of author and theologian Scott Bader-Saye, living in God’s providence means having the after any evil and sin we have the “ability to say AND….” For the Christian, “if the story hasn’t ended well then the story hasn’t ended yet.”

I love that.

I have come to realize over the past 3 days that there is something extraordinary happening here in Indonesia.  No, not the suicide bombing or extremism.  What is happening is the Indonesian church is choosing to tell a different story.  As story told through their lives and the people I have meet—even if it was every so briefly.    

This has done me well, for if those around me were fearful, I would be as well.  But that is not the case.  It astounds me. For when one shapes their lives by peace in the little things, when something “big” happens one has no other way to respond, but in peace.

Here are some example:

1. Do you ever get times in your life where your heart skips a beat?  I got it when I heard about the work of the Mennonite Diaconal Service (MDS).  Among many things, MDS has pursued inter faith dialogue and humanitarian work among the Muslim community of Indonesia in remarkable ways!  We were only presented with information, but I can’t help but visit their work later this year.  What blew me away was the engagement of Mennonite churches with moderate and radical Islamic groups.  They work together on shared goals and shared loves and the picture of the leading radical Islamic army officer alongside a Mennonite pastor in dialogue is a photo I will never forget.  For the vast majority of Muslims in Indonesia, the bombing is mourned.    

 

2. I talked on the tile floor with my host father last night about this all.  He pastors a church and expressed no fear or worry over the event.  He urged the need for interfaith dialogue and need for all churches in Indonesia to be inclusive.  Which, in his opinion, is lacking among some of the fastest growing denominations here in Indonesia.  Exclusive churches are deeply detrimental to living alongside the Muslim community here.  There is a serious choice at stake here for the church—and for the global church.  Gladly, the Mennonite church of Indonesia, which I am apart of, seeks inclusiveness and a holistic view of evangelism and salvation, which allows for peace to be formed.

3. The Mennonite church which I will deeply participate with this year celebrated “Youth for Peace Day” on the same day this bombing occurred.  The host sister of my home in Kudus, whom is a leader in the youth peace movement, wrote this prayer:

“Let the peace be with everyone in that church, the victims and the family of that person. Forgive him if he (the bomber) did not know what he was doing, and more over, please forgive us, if we sometimes fail to bring a peace around us or we have not brought a peace to others wherever we are at.  Let your forgiveness and peace be with all of us so we can be YOUR peacemaker where ever we are. God have Mercy!”

It is people that genuinely respond like this, which I am surrounded by here.  I am so blessed by their presence.

These are some of my thoughts at this moment in time.  Where this journey here in Indonesia will take me I do not know.  For, God does not promise protection from evil, but promises provision and His presence.  As C.S. Lewis wrote. “God is not safe, but he is good.” I hope you may strive to life out of that promise, as I will strive and struggle with it. 

Shalom.

A glimpse of what I see.

Last week I attempted to form word pictures, this time around I will give you a visual feast from the past 3 weeks.  As I am attempting to get pictures of ordinary street life here, my uncertainty and awkwardness over taking pictures of Indonesians going about their lives together has generally taken the best of me.  But enjoy the photos that I have.

I will post something in the coming week, going into some more depth, but for now I will let your eyes see glimpses of what I see. 

 This is peanut sauce smothering tofu, vegetables and longtung ( a rice that is so wet and compacted that it has the texture of a potato).  Delicious.  Most days I eat rice 3x a day.  Today I had a break from the norm.  I only ate it for breakfast and supper.   

This photo is shocking because of the lack of rice.  Rice fields generally always fill in the gaps between homes and between towns in Indonesia.  Here are tobacco, banana and corn plants.

 

Tobacco fields looking up towards the small mountain we hiked.

Looking over rural agricultural Indonesian villages.  Spectacular.

Ellery, Laura, Mike and I trying the great variety of fruit juice.  I have fresh fruit juice every day, but I will never have that brown colored juice in this picture again.  It was some deplorable combination of peanuts and water.

Hard to believe there are fish in the rivers of Indonesia.  I can't get over how much garbage fills the waterways here.

Look closely at the boats filled with black material.  It is mud.  Bucketed from the lake bed into the boat.  From the boat this mud goes basket full by basket full into a truck.  The mud is then used for mushroom farming.  How much does that man earn for a 12 hour work day?  He earns $2-$5. 

The Christian University in town did a parade showcasing Indonesian's vast array of culture.  

Another cultural dress, with a blue bus in the background.  The blue buses  are the city buses.  Everywhere I look I see at least one and they stop at the slightest clue that you may want a ride.

This is the church that my host father in Salatiga pastors.  Small, young, simple and promising--I have thoroughly enjoyed being apart of it for the few weeks I will be with them.

 Family photo of my host father, mother, and two younger sisters.

Want some fruit?   

 Jason enjoys the bliss of being in the front seat of the city bus.

This is what we call "pacaks".  A traditional way to get around.
 I sit in the front seat and the Indonesian peddles away.

Bamboo!  I never knew bamboo got this big!  From furniture to scaffolding to food, bamboo is highly functional.

That ends this visual adventure.  I set off on my 4th week of language training tomorrow.  Bye for now.

Mangos and Tears.

Well I thought I would re-enter the blogosphere….it’s been a while. 

I have not written for over a week not because of boredom……quite the opposite.

I am loving life right now.  Life is taking my breath away.  I am so alive.

What’s this life about here in Salatiga:

It’s about some days waking up with a gastro-intestinal nightmare and then kicking off the day with some room-temperature rice and a unique melody of vegetables, tofu and well the rest I can’t identify.

It’s about laughing and celebrating as everyone of us is able to say that word “if” in Indonesian…..how trivial, but how important.

It’s about standing under a market tent, using my meager, yet quickly growing vocab to buy 4 mangoes.

It’s about ecstatically racing home on my bike with the biggest smile because I know about my incoming mango fiesta. 

It’s when your back drips with sweat, but your face drips with mango juice. It’s me and 4 mangoes.  It’s pure ecstasy for me.

It’s about 10 kids swarming me.  Standing with bare feet on the hot concrete “field”, they pull me into the soccer goal…. guess I just became the goalie.  They think I am the best soccer player.  I let that moment stay with me forever because as soon as I touch the ball, that assumption disappears. 

It’s about biking into the rubber plantations of Java, buying water from a stand and talking to an Indonesian.  Well, he talked to me.  I understood a few things, but both of us were just big smiles.  It’s funny how this is etched forever in my mind.  It is this, this interaction with Indonesians, that gives me so much life.

It’s standing in the most beautiful rain ever and being soaked.  The dry earth, which has not seen a drop of moisture since I have come here, fills the air with the richest scent…..that terrific mixture of rain and dust. 

It’s about staying up late talking about theology with my host dad.  His church plant, pastoral work and bookshelf have led us to talk long into the night.

It’s about family.  Trying to get my 10-month old sister to walk and my 7 year old to stop bugging me. 

It’s about standing atop a mountain and looking down and rice paddies and tobacco field fill the valley bottom.  It’s also about searching for the elusive monkey…..and I’m still looking.

It’s about church.  Gathering on bamboo mats, singing, reflecting and eating together in the home of one of the members of this young adults church of 30 or so people. The church is rising up leaders and these weekly gatherings have given me much delight.

It’s about loving the texture of life in the rural areas.  There is a different beauty and mystery to life in the rural areas.  I can’t quite figure it out.

It’s also about tears.

It’s about weeping.

It’s about a fallen world.

It’s about dreaming of the redeemed earth. 

I’ll explain.

I am pursing to feel intimate with the way of life here.  It’s hard.  At times I feel like the awkwardest thing here—distant from the people, the faiths and the land.  There have been a few times where this cultural, religious and language barrier feels like it has been strip away a bit and I sense increased incarnation among the people here. 

One thing that I prayed last week was for God to break my heart for what breaks his.  It’s a pray that needed to be said because of the distance from the injustice that I was feeling here.  I wanted that to be more real.   It want to see the world like God does.  Crossing cultures can make you blind to see things through God’s eyes.  Crossing cultures can be filled with endless worry, concern and business with yourself.  It’s like being in those middle school days where all you care about is trying to figure out how you fit into things, how to say things, what is happening to your body…..it can be just all about you.  Cross-cultural things are kinda like the adolescent days.  It is very easy to be lost in the confusion of myself that I miss the voice of God.  So I prayed that I would cry for what God cries over. 

God answers prayer.  Over the course of a couple days God was giving me that gift of being able to see more of life here through his eyes. There is not any one person or event that triggered this, just life around me. 

Then one night I lay in bed.  And then I cried.  I was angry.  Angry at the brokenness around me.  It wasn’t anger at poverty here.  Nope.  It was anger at people like me.  People with the nice cars and big homes.  My eyes have been opened to some stunning inequality here.  I can just feel Indonesia straining.  Most of it eagerly lurching towards the economic growth that we idolize. All that ensues from lives lived in such idolization of consumption and individualism I know all to well in North America.  But the straining is between those whom are gaining great wealth from this economic boom and those whom are forgotten.  I weep over this, but they are also tears of discomfort over my North American life and such.   It gets really messy.  My frustration doesn’t stop there.  

I have just associated with those whom have middle-high incomes.  I stay in their homes, talk with them.  I’m not complaining about that, I have great thanks for that.  But, there is half of Indonesia that lives with less than $2 a day.  I wonder lots about this.  Who are these people that live far more simple lives?  What brokenness to there lives exhibit?  What witness to faithful living to they offer me? 

And then there is something that I felt before about this stuff and I can’t figure out.  I feel lonely about these passions and dreams of mine.  Maybe its because I don’t think people will understand how I can cry over societies idols, injustice and evil structures. 

I have tears right now.  It’s such a gift from God that I can weep over the fallen world we live in.  I feel such intense emotion over this.  I just don't know what to do with it sometimes. So, I'm learning to surrender this, and listen and look for answers. Just wait for God to do the rest.

Every day I dream and envision the world redeemed.  More often than not in my life, these tears of frustration and anger turn into courage and determination.  So far, God's joy that he has graciously given me has overcome despair.    

This is a favorite quote of mine, it helps me make sense experience this past week.  I hope it propels you aswell to faithful living.

hope has two beautiful daughters:

their names are anger and courage –

anger at the way things are and

courage to see they do not remain that way.  --St Augustine

The force of prayer was remarkably real this past week and I thank-you for that.  It’s strange to write about my life on a blog.  But I hope that you are able to feel some of texture of life here. 

Tuhan Memberkati.  God Bless.

Mailing Address!

Some of you have expressed interest in mailing me.  I would love that!  
It should take 2-3 weeks for me to get your mail.


The address of my home in Kudus, where I will return to in mid-October, is:


Jason Horlings
d/a Irene Saputro
Sosrokartono Gg Nanas 20b
Kudus 5g312
Jawa Tengah--Indonesia


I will not tell you my Salatiga address, because I am only here for 6 weeks.

Seeking Grace.....Finding Joy

It has been over 3 weeks since I left Smithers and it has been 2 incredible weeks here in Indonesia.  I have returned to Salatiga, the city where language training happens.  I will be here for 6 weeks with another family I will meet tomorrow!  But I have just come away from a week with my host family in Kudus which was one of the best things I have done in my life.  It is unlike anything I have done before.  It was filled with joy—but the joy did not only come from “fun stuff”, the deepest joy came from struggle as well.  I have two stories at the end of this post related to that.

But first some anecdotes on life now and to come….

1.             Idul Fitri, the national holiday marking the end of Ramadan, meant helping my family at the bakery.  I was the cashier and it was a great way to practise Indonesian and meet people in the community.  However, I hope the family can still afford keeping me after I repeatedly mixed up “ribu”, meaning 1000 and “ratus”, meaning 100.  Idul Fitri also meant that ear plugs were a necessity if one wanted to sleep.  I understand that the Muslims were rejoicing in the completion of Ramadan, but I wasn’t rejoicing when the mosque next door had people wailing into the loudspeaker…….all night.  In honesty, the calls to prayer are a beautiful part of daily life here.

I will never forget the first morning waking up and thinking….”Is the Iman in my room….hello, are you there?”  Unbelievably loud. 

Idul Fitri and the Muslim Prayers on the streets

Pappa and me at the Sunan Kudus cemetary

2. This is a terrific segway into my next point.  I find great mystery in Islam and the Muslim population of Indonesia.  I really don’t know much about Islamic faith and who Muslims are.  I eagerly look forward to learning more and developing relationships with Muslims.   

3. I went to “Ada”.  I hope to never go there again.  It was basically an Indonesian Wal-mart.  Ada, and other stores like it, have only existed in Kudus for 2-3 years.  This is the “new” and “economically rising” Indonesia.  I just want to tell Indonesia, don’t let consumerism overcome you like it has in North America….but it appears to be ever popular.

 4. I hope to hike two volcanoes in the next month.  One of the volcanoes is the most active one in the world.  Awesome.

The volcano from my front yard.

5.  FINALLY, I have some idea of what my day-to-day life will be like for the year in regards to my serving in Kudus.  It appears to have lots of flexibility and freedom to it.

--join in the 5 Sunday worship services, pastor’s meeting and Bible study, young adults worship/bible study, visitation, catechism

--I was able to express some of my passions and hopes to my “boss”, the youth pastor at the church.  Because of my open-ended schedule, there is room for many more exciting possibilities. 

-- I have a request to be an “assistant English teacher for grade 12” at the Christian high school.  What a lofty title.  In other words, I get to talk lots and they get to practice listening to English for their final exams.   I can just imagine the jokes being set-off by my family and friends right now about this job.  You know, the fact I will be forced to talk lots will be really hard for me….haha.

-- If that wasn’t enough for you to laugh about, then get this.  My church and my brother want me to host an English talk show in Kudus.  They are serious.  If you are missing my voice, then maybe you can tune into the radio online….I’ll give you details later.  Apparently I have two assets for being a radio show host.  I talk lots.  I talk fast. True?

This is how I get to work.  How about you?

6. Pray for our team of SALT and YAMEN participants here.  Although my week went extraordinarily well with my host family, others had a much harder time.  So it has been a blessing to be together the past 2 days.

There were many things I was told, and to be honest, I didn’t think some of the things I was warned about would happen too quickly or be too intense.  I was wrong.  Here are 3 things I was told plenty about before hand and have already experienced quickly and intensely.

--It will sometimes be difficult and life will hurt 

-- God will transform you

-- You will experience the collision of cultures in significant ways

I have 2 stories about how all three of these things came together—and I stand amazed at what I learned.  I learned how cultural learning, reconciliation and forgiveness can come from cultural collision, misunderstandings, and disagreements.

1.

The first episode of significant cultural differences was quite illuminating to me because it was the first time that I went against the cultural grain, and later had to learn about my cultural inappropriateness.

So my restless body wanted to be active for a bit in the afternoon.  At home throwing a Frisbee, biking or playing basketball are things that I can go and do either in my backyard or at a park.  Well, a back-yard doesn’t exist here—at least not in any North American sense of the word.  And, a park….well those don’t exist here either.  So what to do…..oh, I know…go for a walk!  Great idea eh?  I told my brother that I was going to go on a walk alone to explore the neighborhood, get exercise and spend some time by myself.

I returned from my 20-minute walk to find out that my sisters and brother were worried were I went and if I could find my way home.  More interestingly, a young adult from my church, who saw me walking, texted my sister and another church young adult about my walk alone.  The Indonesian culture leads to a very tight knit community that holds each other accountable, but it also means that my family is looked at closely by the outside community for how they treat me.  My walk sent some wrong messages about my family, however good my intentions were.  This incident led to a lengthy talk with my sister, Irene, about some significant cultural differences around this.  I am very glad that Irene was not shy from telling me what is culturally inappropriate—that forwardness is not necessarily a common trait among Indonesians.   

2.

This next story is far more intense.  Not due to cultural differences, as much as it was one of the few times in my life where I have ever had to deal so seriously with a disagreement and a misunderstanding.  Ultimately, I learned more about forgiveness and reconciliation than I have in a long time. 

I said something that had no intentions of hurting my sister Irene, but a serious misunderstanding led to confusion and both of us feeling awful about our words and actions.  We both felt that we were wrong and that forgiveness was to be given, not received.  We both struggled throughout an afternoon to understand each other and how to come to reconciliation.  In the midst of that, I spent some time alone, and I knew God was doing something, but I didn’t know what.  It also felt like it would take way more than a day to resolve the issue. 

But then we talked later in the day and came to the point where both of us received and asked for forgiveness.  Then we washed dishes together.  Which sounds like the funniest thing to write, but it was one of the most healing things I have done.  God was at work while I scrubbed dishes! We talked about the conflict, laughed at each other and had a water fight.  God’s grace renewed both of us—which impacted those around us.  The restoration of relationship meant that we got to know each other more deeply—another gift from this significant disagreement.

I will never forget this, I can point to that I already see God’s hand in my life here.  It is difficult to write about something like this, especially to such a big audience, when this is quite personal, but I thought I would share a bit in hopes that you can enter into my life here, even in the smallest of ways, through both my joys and pains.

In my classic style, I’ll end with something funny.

No one had to tell me that I would be the victim of stares, laughs and eager attempts to make verbal contact with me here in Indonesia.  I was told that.  It is all true.  But the way the staring and laughing occur make me laugh each time.  Some of the best encounters are with teenage girls in Indonesia. 

I went to cemetery of a founder of Islam in Indonesia, where I awkwardly tip-toed around in a sarung, a covering for a Muslim man’s legs when a he prays. Don't worry, I didn't pray there, I just looked around.  Like many other places in Indonesia, there will be a whole pod of teenage girls sitting in a line.  It takes only one of them to notice me.  Stare at me.  Giggle at me.  Smile at me.  Then turn to the girl next to her and “secretly” whisper something like “Look!  There is this lanky guy….with a perm, who awkwardly crouches through door-ways.” 

Before that sentence is even finished being whispered, a stare, a laugh and a delight to tell the girl next to them fills their face. What follows next is face after face turning towards me in laughter.  It is facial dominoes.  It is a frequent game I play where I guess the type of reaction and the reaction time, and see if I am right.  It’s great.  I always win.  No one loses.  And I feel awkward.  Wait……so I guess I really lose each time.  

Me in my sarung....and facial dominoes starts.....Now!

Hope you enjoyed! Bye for now!