"May God bless you with a restless discomfort"

To use the analogy of an airplane taking off, beginning to soar, but hitting a little bit of turbulence, would not be far off to how the past 2 weeks have gone.

Every single day over these 2 weeks I can point to a unique and amazing experience.      

The previous blog post is about one of those.

Here is another.

I have made visiting a specific neighbor’s home a spiritual discipline for me.  Sometimes, maybe often, when we practice spiritual disciples they become predictable and comfortable.

It was my 4^th time to visit the family and the surrounding homes; it seemed that nothing was going to make it different from the rest. 

I showed up with kids running circles around me, but this time with my bike—so there was added excitement.  Oh, and when I say kids, I mean 30 of them.   

The mother of the home, immediately asked me to come into the home.  This is quite unusual. Those who don’t have homes like the middle and high-income Indonesians, they are very hesitant to allow you in to see inside the house.

So I entered the home in some apprehension since it was odd.

It was dark, the floor was concrete and the walls were a brick with a few simple pieces of furniture sprinkled through out.  By far the most materially poor home I have been too.  

The mother brought me to a bedroom and there was a baby lying on it.

It didn’t look normal or healthy.  In a terrible moment, I actually thought it was dead.

I looked for breathing and found it—and was relieved.

The 3-year-old child’s head was grossly large and its eyes seemed completely lost.

At one point, the mother turned the baby over.  She pulled back the shirt allowing me to see the child’s back.  I braced for what was to come, but it was worse than I imagined.   My eyes came upon a bulging tumor-like mass of red raw looking fleshes the size of my fist.  It completely shocked me.

It distressed me.

In painful words the mother explained the sickness and here inability to pay for the cure. 

The burden of working and having 5 children.

The burden having to give special care for the child.

She was distressed and angry at the situation.

Understanding most, but not all of what the mother was saying.

I played with the child’s toes and touched its soft skin.

Than she asked me my most feared question.

“Can you give money to us?”

What do you say to that?

I didn’t have money to give at that moment.

I also didn’t want to promise money.

But God gave me some words.

He said that you have something even greater to offer her, weather you eventually do or don’t offer money.

I told her in discomfort.

“I want to come at least once a week.

I want to visit the child every time I come.

I want to know if things are getting better or worse for you and the child.”

I didn’t know what else to say. 

Relationship is the best gift I can offer.  Sharing.  Listening.  Being in agony with her.

Something more happen there as well. 

Often, I feel deeply disconnected here.  I feel like there are different worlds which I enter in and out of.  Church is one world.  The mosque and Islam was another.  The poor is another.  The affluent is another world. 

This relationship with this family has defied all the boundaries between religion and wealth. There is a sense that we are on a journey together not marked by the categories that mar so much of life.  Walking not ahead or behind each other, but along side each other.  

The next day I collapsed into tears of frustration, agony and disappointment.  I was angry at the situation.  Frustration at the disconnect.  Disappointed at the church—not just here, everywhere.  I struggled to reconcile that experience with my faith and the church.  And I still struggle to.

Praises:

--For meeting neighbors like my above story

--The relationship between myself and my mothers is strengthen a lot this past week

--I am able to contribute to the pastor’s meeting far more than before.

--God’s teaching me cultural understanding, forgiveness and demanding more intimacy

--I am very comfortable around the 2 pastors I work with the most.  We generally laugh at each other lots.

--Far more relaxed about my pastoral position here and what my time each day looks like

--For tough questions from little Muslim kids “Why are you a Christian?”    I had no idea how to answer that question in a way that made sense to a 10-year-old Muslim.  Sure made me think lots.

--For joy.  I had plenty of it this week.

Concerns:

-- Getting so busy that I lose what God is saying and doing here.  Not rushing my experience here is important and will be hard.

-- Hitting a language plateau because I can get around just fine with the words I know

-- For my doubt, frustration and questions with church to lead me to have visions about transformation, that I can act of God's voice in this regard and that these struggles lead me to realize my own shortcomings and assumptions.

--I have stomach flu as I sit here and write this.  But this has been shockingly rare for me.  Praise God!

I have had these great intentions to write letters and stay in touch with more of you than I have so far.  I will strive to make these intentions more of a reality.  So thank-you for constant emails, face book messages, and mail.  Yesterday I got mail from someone I would never imagine getting mail from.  Completely amazed and humbled by those who think and pray for me.

Here is a Franscian blessing that I put next to my bed.  I read it every day.  Truly relevant in regards to my story.

"May God bless you with a restless discomfort 
about easy answers, half-truths and superficial relationships,
so that you may seek truth boldly and love deep within your heart.



May God bless you with holy anger at injustice, oppression,
and exploitation of people, so that you may tirelessly work for
justice, freedom, and peace among all people.



May God bless you with the gift of tears to shed with those who suffer
from pain, rejection, starvation, or the loss of all that they cherish, so that you may
reach out your hand to comfort them and transform their pain into joy.

May God bless you with enough foolishness to believe that
you really CAN make a difference in this world, so that you are able, with God's grace, to do what others claim cannot be done."

Idul Adha (with photos)

I woke up Sunday morning and headed off to the neighborhood mosque.  I had no idea what I was getting myself into...

I wandered through pools of blood,

on the spectacular white floors.

Awkwardly of course

I then try to sit cross-legged like an Indonesian, but the result is nothing pretty.

I smell….whatever that mixture of blood, meat and guts smell like.

I nervously pick up a knife.

I am told to grab a chunk of freshly slaughter meat.

Then a helpful man cracks a smile.

I nearly amputate his fingers before he corrects my horrible butchering skills.

Two other men try to understand why with them on such an important day.

Everyone else takes a glance, then they need to take a second glance, and then they continue on chopping, sawing, pulling the buffalo.

Continuing sitting, I tear, cut and well…..

Just love to put my fingers in the rich red meat.

I move up and go over to talk to a man whom seems to know a lot.

We talk over hot tea and some rice wrapped in a newspaper.

Religion, culture and weather were some of our favorite topics.

A crowd of children, women storm the entrance.

Hands reached out in desperation.

Bodies squished against each other.

Security has to push back against the surge of beggars.

This is Idul Adha

Celebrated by the Muslims to remember the willingness of Abraham to sacrifice Ishmael

At a mosque

With an imam

In Indonesia

On a Sunday Morning

Unforgettable. 

Jason in complete confusion.

I am not sure who was more scared.  Me or the poor guy holding the other half of meat?

A little stack of buffalo meat with some intestines on top....ready for distribution in the surrounding community.

You understand what I mean that my legs are a little of the awkward side.  The Imam and I enjoying rice.

The Rhythm of Life

It happened in one of my most hated places—big box stores. 

After fumbling my way through a conversation with someone in customer service, I completed my small, but highly necessary purchase.

Then came the wait.  A long wait.  Boredom set in.  Wandering the isles of the store increased with my rise of restlessness. 

I know of few things that trigger grumpiness more than having to wait for someone to select weather than want 1-inch heels or 3-inch heels.  In fuchsia or teal?  With poka-dots or Barbie print?  To take 1 hour or to take 2 hours?

It irritates me for a number of reasons.  But one of them was quite revealing to me—and I hope you as well.

My frustration with a lack of doing overcame me.

I came across an ocean to get here.  The last thing I want to do is wait for someone to choose weather glitter on high heels is hot fashion right now.  The last thing I want to do was stop being productive; stop being effective, stop talking. 

But I had no other choice.  I was bound to my shopping captors for a way out.  I nearly ran outside and danced in the rain.  Then I asked a question that I don’t ask enough, “How age appropriate would that be?”  So I resisted the urge.  I sat down.

I sat and thought.  I sat and read.  On a bench between the Puma shoes and the Nevada jeans.

I want to do stuff.  Be apart of a club.  Join a program.  Plan an event.  Feed a meal to the poor.  Hear the life of a Muslim.  Be taught about the socio-economic dynamics of Asia’s economic rise.  Yah, I’m that nerdy.  

I want to wake up go none-stop all day and then do it all over again the next—that has not been the case here.  Although it can be tiring, it is satisfy also to go non-stop.  I feel good to be apart of so much. I can tell someone else about all the things I do.  It also feels like I am living God’s call in Micah 6:8 “to act justly, and to love mercy and to walk humbly with your God.”

When life is like this, the last thing you can call me is apathetic.

Doing justice.  Doing all the wonderful things that you can do at King’s cannot be sustained by a day-after-day pursuit of endless action.

Doing justice.  Doing ministry.  Loving others starts with, is sustained by and ends with rest—Sabbath keeping.  The book, The Dangerous Act of Worship by Mark Labberton, has helped me see this the clearest.   I opened this book in the middle of the store that afternoon. 

Doing Sabbath means that life is centered back to God.  Our pursuits during the week are set aside to renew the freeing reality that our lives, our activities, this world does not belong to us, but to God.  Doing justice is God’s work, we are simply invited to join what God is already doing. 

Here in Indonesia, the slow pace to life and the lack of immediate activities for me to fill my schedule can irritate me.  And it does.  I think, “I want tell someone that I did many things today, then if I didn’t to much and then this day was not worth that much.”  But, that is the point.  Keeping Sabbath means not doing anything except remembering and practicing trust in God who is God over all.  Keeping Sabbath can mean doing it on Sunday or another day, or making it something that is intertwined throughout your week. Israel had a year of Sabbath—maybe this year will that for me.

I feel unsettled right now.  Yesterday, I had a day full of activities that I could report to you about. But, I wasn’t even able to talk with my host family yesterday.  That led to a healthy conversation on my priorities. I like doing more than resting.

The afternoon among those racks of shirts and piles of shoes, I learned something about my appetite for doing.  I also learned something my appetite for being in the Lord’s presence and resting.  I got a wake-up call.  I needed it.  Do you? 

Dancing, Culture, Crabs.

“Jason finally found his soul.”

The words of my host sister this afternoon when I found out more of what I will do this year.  That is not always the case here, but at times yes…that is true.

Like right now!

A quick survey of my “work”

The "what is an average day like" question I can’t really answer yet, no day has really been the same.  Which in the long run will be great, in the short term, a little confusing.

I have realized that the ball is my court.  I will have to take the initiative for things this year, that is the way my supervisor is doing things.  I like it.  If you allow to take initiative I will run with it.  I have lots of freedom to do what I want.  Except that freedom is only good when you know what to do with it.  I am searching for a rhythm to life here, it will take a while since I have such an open schedule.  That is something I am offering to God in prayer.

The way pastoral work is by nature, means that I don’t have any set work times.  I work in the morning or evening.   I work lots one day or barely for a few days.  Well, let me change that.  I am always working here—24/7.  My “work” here is to live here really.  And pastor work can be very broad…..its hard to say that “here is pastoral work, here that isn’t happening.”

Hold on.  I am becoming inundated with water on the “porch”.  It was drizzling.  Now it’s pouring.  This is irresistible.  I need to dance in it. 

You can't see this, but a bakery employee is giving me a lecture on the health risks of rain while I pose for a picture.  You also can't see that a crowd has formed to watch me.  I guess watching me dance is a spectator sport.

Here is sample of what work looks like so far.

Weekly

o   join and sometimes lead high-school/middle school youth worship, bible study and fellowship

o   join and sometimes lead young adults (age 20-30) worship and bible study/fellowship

o   visit people in the church, neighbors and hospital patients

o   pastor’s meeting.  What I previously referred to as “captivity.”

o   soccer, basketball and biking with youth and young adults

o   instrument practice.  I am playing a traditional Javanese instrument for the Christmas program.  With my music skills, I am not sure who is more doomed, me or the Christmas program.

o   Attend church service.

o   Quran study with a man who recently came to Christ from Islam.

o   Time to reflect and plan with my supervisor—the youth pastor.

o   Read books

o   Writing for church magazine, Youth for Peace newsletter, university newspaper or blog

Other:

o   Monthly deacon church service for the poor

o   From now until February, working along with a couple others on a book to train young adults/youth to be peacemakers here in Indonesia

o   Plan and lead sessions on leadership training for youth in December

o   Think of ideas, and join events for Youth For Peace….a denomination wide young adults/youth movement

o   Visiting other SALTers in there places

o   Write and preach at least one sermon.

o   Spend a month in a branch church in an agricultural village of the central church here.

A collection of short stories.

1. “Hey Justin Bieber!”  I heard this while biking the other day from a man on the side of the road.  That man was really in for a disappointment if I opened my mouth.

2. I was in this awfully crowded clothing market.  I finally veer a corner into a more open area and the "awkward-events of Jason’s life" were taken to a new level.  A man who was horribly bored and brainstorming new sales tactics all day decided to implement some of his sales tactics on me.  He entered the must unique sales pitch of my life.  Verbally, it was the sound you make when you try to scare someone in the dark.  You know that dreadful sound.  Physically, it was rather intimate.  He lunged out and tickled me.  Stunned, I entered “herd mentality” and clutched the nearest SALTer.  I then advised the man that he may want to change his business sales tactics for the for the well-being of his business.

3. My host father took me to a store to buy some shirts. While trying on a piece from his not-so refined taste for clothing, he asked me how it was fitting.  Before I could even utter a response he ripped back the curtain the separates my shocking pale body from the rest of the store.  I scrambled “Dad, shut the curtain!”  From then on he simply handed me every florescent shirt in the store.  Warning:  If you thought I had some bad fashion before Indonesia….your in for a treat when I get back.

4. A common theme wherever I go is being teased over girlfriends.  I return to my church here 3 weeks ago.  The first time I go to church, and the first person I met there is my pastor who is fondly remember as the girl-friend praying pastor. His unashamed first question is, “So, you find a girl-friend?”  My response was that he should probably pray harder.  Okay, not quite.  He is the same pastor that announced in front of the whole church that many people comment on how handsome I am.  He is the same pastor the loves long bike rides.  We we'll get along great.

5. The other night I was in charge of leading a young adults fellowship/worship/bible study type of thing.  I planned a song, game and was ready to tell them about my life with pictures.  And also share a few things I have learned about my faith.  I get there, and I have only one slot assigned to me—the sermon slot.  I had to explain that although I have spoken Indonesian for 2 months, I am not to good at the improv sermon thing yet. 

6.  I have never seen a water buffalo before.  I was playing with some kids, they decided it would be fun to go and chill out with some buffalos.  I had other thoughts, but I was tentatively complicit.  Deciding that I would try to work on my rugged farm boy appearance I joined.  Then they wanted me to be in a photo with it.  That was going a bit far.  So I settled for photographer.  I learned that this beast was actually quite loving so I decided to go in for a photo with it.  My inner feelings of bravery were quickly doused when I got completely out done by a kid who thought standing by a buffalo was not enough.  He set the bar at sitting precariously on the buffaloes head. Check it out...

7. Do you ever go to an event and think “oh no, oh no, I didn’t know this was going to be serious?”  Thinking I could just kick the ball around for a bit and have some good laughs, I joined the young adults playing soccer.  Not so.  Evertime I play soccer I start the game receiving every other pass because I am the visitor and hey, he might just be good at soccer.  In takes around 30 seconds for my first shot to go wide of the net and into a rice paddy and then I only touch the ball accidently after that.  So I thought playing with grade 1 kids would change this. The good thing is that I can pick them up and move them out of my way.  The bad news is that they just feel a lot more free to make fun of you. 

8.  Sometimes I am here and I think…..I am such a rookie at this whole thing.  Not only am I a cross-cultural rookie, and I also a cellphone rookie. I thought about my rookie status significantly when giving my cell number to a neighbor who has become a friend.  After doing some quick cost-benefit analysis of that move, I figured the worst would be being phoned and texted all day.  Yup, that is what has happened.   

9.  There is a huge range in income at the church here.  I visited a home with a 6 car-garage, pool and everything looked like it had gold trim.  You get the picture.  After swimming I was invited in for meal.  I looked at my plate and there was an entire crab sitting there.  After starring at it for a few minutes make sure it wasn’t moving still, I had to ask a question to the hosts:  “Now what? How do you get at the goodness inside?” They tried to train me, but I struggled to pry apart the crab numerous times so eventually the hosts came over and stood by me picking it apart. I played with the joints.  I know, so mature.  

Questions

My mind runs with questions all day.  Sometimes it irritates me that I can’t get answers from others.  Sometimes I can’t get answers from God.  Sometimes I write down all my questions.  Sometimes I just love living in the mystery of those questions.  I need to release my haste to have definitive answers.  I have been striving for this.  Maybe you are too? 

I received this from MCC.  So I’ll pass along it, it is from a German poet.

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart. Try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms and like books written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is to live everything. Live the questions now... Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answers."
--Rainer Maria Rilke

More to come soon.

Thank-you for your prayers, support and encouragement.  I receive it often from you. 

I have an exciting week ahead.  Starting with Sunday morning visiting my Muslim neighbors and the mosque where they will slaughter animals for Idul Adha. It is a celebration to remember Abraham’s willingness to sacrifice Ishmael.  I’ll take some pictures for you.