Jason in Java

Put the cellphone down, talk less, and listen up

2012-02-29T00:37:00.000-08:00

Last week, someone told me:

"Jason, the world needs people that can sit down and listen. That can sit down and talk. The world needs people that can care intentionally for each other. We need to create space for each other without distractions like cellphones." I then sat down and listened to this man speak to me about his faith and the church for a few hours.

In the same week, I heard about "Coffee for Peace." A place in the island of Mindanao, Philippines where Muslims and Christians could put down arms and sit down and listen. This happened at the MCC Asia Diakonia Conference where 8 Asian countries and their Anabaptist church leaders came together. Their was lots and talking and listening among each other. Rather than talking, I listen a lot.....although I had plenty to say, I listened.

Then there is my "job" with the church. I listen a lot. I listen a lot with little understanding during worship services. I listen a lot with little understanding during the pastor's meeting. I listen a lot with little understanding on young adult road trips. There is no other way around that. And that is fine. It teaches you. It teaches you how to care, to be humble and to hear God's voice. I've learned that listening, being still, and just sitting with people, is the business of pastoral care.

That is where I have found my groove here.

It's the best witness I have.

I could preach sermons, but there is already a dozen pastors that are doing that.

I could attend more meetings, but there is already enough people at those.

But preaching, more meetings and more time in the office, well.....that doesn't make me come alive and that is not what the people of Kudus need more of. I come alive sitting still on the floor sharing stories and sharing a meal. The world needs people that can do that. That is Jesus' life. That was and still is His ministry. That is the life I strive to imitate, it is the ministry I embrace

So as a wise man said earlier this week: put the cellphone down, talk less and listen up.

"Jason's Rice Paddy services, how can I help you?"

2012-02-10T03:42:00.000-08:00

Here is mental image for you:

Last week, this tall lanky kid ran around a rice paddy. He thought that he deep deep down had an inner “farm boy.” But he was terrible at digging in the mud and any step he made into the mud the situation looked….ummm….precarious. At one point he was tilling the earth with a hoe while wearing a traditional rice-farming hat. It lasted only minutes before the kid found it rather fun to get his arms muddy up to his armpits. While playing in the mud, a crab was found.

The kid was elated. He played with it, trying to get it to pick things up with his “snappers”. Then suddenly, more were found. The kid became an act of comedy to the farmers. The farmers became to throw crabs towards the kid. Sometimes, the crabs would not land close to the bucket, so the kid had to go out into the rice paddy uncover the crab and then attempt to jostle the crab until its “pincers” were closed. This usually was a fail. Instead, the kid juggled the crab back to the bucket were its friends awaited. This method was largely effective, although some bite marks from a wieldy crab still exist. Eventually 5 crabs were together—he thought—a perfect family. In fact, the kid cared for these crabs like his children.

To the complete shock of the kid, one crab decided to violently amputate another crab. The terrified kid watched three limbs dismember. The dismembered crab died within a period of 20 minutes while the kid baby-sat the others, keeping discipline. In the end, 20 crabs were tossed from farmers to the kid. Many crabs tried to escape their new parenthood. The crabs became unruly together, using a teamwork strategy to pile on top of each other to make an escape. These beloved crabs, were too much of a commitment for the kid.

Breakfast the next morning was crab.

The talk of the village was the kid.

A this was a day in a life.

If you want to get aquatinted, read the above story.

Hacking....wait that's not the right word. Okay, "Hoeing" the the church's plot of land. This lasted a few minutes and then.......

My hoe was confiscated by the farmers.So I used my hands......which lasted until I......

Realized I have very little agricultural skills. Nothing spells "foreigner" like the contrast between the muddy farmer behind me and the specks of mud on my face.

I trusty farmer risked a lot and allowed me to drive his rice paddy tilling tractor. A crowd watched, and nearby farmers guarded their paddies as I had the time of my life driving around a rice paddy chasing snakes. I got raves reviews for my work. So if some other career plans fall through, I have a new option to fall back on.

Faces

2012-02-10T03:27:00.000-08:00

The past 3 weeks have been exceptional. It gives me some of the deepest joy to sit, talk and just be with people here. Who are these people?

Pak Jono. Captured by the Indonesian military in 1965 for being the local Communist leader, he was put in prison. A wide-spread violent crackdown on those whom the government suspected as Communist occurred after the “September Movement”. He was supposed to be executed. He was not yet a Christian, but he did hear of Jesus. If Jesus saved him from an imminent death, he was going to live the rest of his life for Christ. A miracle happened. The day of execution came, and his name was not called. Along with 4 other ex-Communists, Pak Jono began GKMI Kali Rejo. Communists had to either become Muslim, Buddhist, Christian or Hindu, or they would be arrested. Therefore, many other ex-Communists came to Christ and the church rapidly grew. Later this year, the church will celebrate 40 years.

Mba Sarna. She wore beautiful traditional Javanese clothes. She lived alone in a leaning bamboo home. She walked upon the soft mud, which was her floor. She was angry with her neighbors and her chronic pain. She just got back from the market, where she spent her only money to buy medicine. She wanted to go to heaven. She could not speak Indonesian. That was okay.

I will never forget how hard it was too look her in the face. Her breath smelt. She was weary. She was annoyed and upset. I eventually looked her in the face. I held her hand. We prayed. And in the face I looked into, I saw Jesus. Unforgettable.

Pak Heru. The pastor of the GKMI Kali Rejo church. His heart for the village community was tangible. One time this week, a Muslim, him and Buddhist sat beside each other at a Muslim event. His vision for the church was inspiring. Empowerment--spiritually, socially and economically--are top priorities. The intention and care that he put into relationships was invigorating. His life ebbed and flowed around the contours of needs, schedules, and the Holy Spirit’s leading each day among people. In short, he made me want to become a pastor. Or at least, live a life like this.

Pak Trimo. I met him gathering red onions in a field. The red onions were then moved to his home, dried, cleaned and the sold at the local market. The land and the onions are the churches. The profit goes towards the ministries and operating costs of the church. As a leader in the church, he has big dreams for it. Those may some day become true because his three sons are all active and taking on leadership roles in the church, and they are still teenagers.

And here are some more faces that color my life.

Wells of Life

2012-01-19T07:22:00.000-08:00

“Maybe the wells that give life and love are drying out? Maybe I need to find new wells? Why do I need to stay at a dry well, what’s the point? Where are wells of flowing love?”

These are questions I asked a few weeks ago. It was a time of confusion and disorientation

for me. Feeling directionless. Feeling that relationships were stagnating.

In trying to surrender to God, I have lived out the question, and have come upon some wells that are changing my faith and me. Here are 3 stories.

There are words in life that never leave us. There are moments in life that forever shape us.

On the bare concrete floor of a neighbor’s home, we shared stories. I go and visit once a week, she says I am like a son. This time, I clearly remember thinking, “Is this relationship at stagnation, what else do we have to offer each other?”

This time, our faith became a central topic, we asked questions back and forth about the Muslim and Christian faith. This came up naturally and shocked me. I did not expect this conversation with her. Furthermore, we understood each other extraordinary well for using Indonesian. Questions like: “how often do you have to pray each day?” are very common when I meet Muslims. However, this neighbor went a big step further and shared this:

“My neighbor who was thinking of becoming a Christian is receiving lots of stuff from a Christian. Also, when I was begging, some Christians told me that they would help me if I became a Christian. Jason, I’m confused. Why do I need to become a Christian for me to get help from Christians?”

In some ways it’s a question that I have always wanted asked. In other ways, it’s a question I dread.

It’s a question I long to hear because, I echo the same question in my mind when I look around the world of missions and social service. Furthermore, I have encountered this reality in the church here. This issue is vastly complex, layers of theological, development, historical and contextual issues intertwine so that I daily stare lost into Indonesian landscape and religion and poverty.

I cried trying to answer this question. There are few questions that hit closer to my heart. I asked for forgiveness. And said that was not the way things are supposed to be. The Christian life follows Jesus and Jesus did not do that.

But, the answer to the question isn’t the point right now—although that makes for a lively discussion. What is important is that my concern for having a productive relationship where I am learning, growing and doing at a desirable speed. Generally, that means faster than the way relationships form and blossom here. Just being there on the floor of my neighbor’s home is all the matters. That speaks far more about Jesus than any Indonesian phrase I can muster. And the very fact that she could ask that question, speaks volumes of what slow patient relationship building leads to. Deep wells of mutual blessing.

This is an excerpt from a reflection I wrote:

The night that the youth leadership planned the upcoming years was a remarkable experience. That is what happens over and over again here, I debate joining a certain event and then I attend and my assumptions for it are completely overturned. The role of the youth pastor was fascinating at this meeting. The youth lead there way through the issues of planning, while the pastor at times offered guidance, and some alternatives to their thoughts. In the end, it was up to the youth. When specific planning had to be done for the special youth events of the upcoming year, the pastor did not tell the youth how this could be best done. Rather, the pastor asked for various perspectives on decision-making and why each youth leader thought their model of decision-making was better. This process of empowering the youth was not rushed, but took as long as all voices were heard and consensus could be reached. An unexpected learning opportunity for me. I am learning lots from observing and not forcing my way of leading and acting upon the youth. The youth are teaching me more than I am teaching them—a cross-cultural success!

This illustrates a somewhat expected reality here. I learn more from Indonesians, than I can teach and give to them. It is how cross-cultural mission trips should go. I knew this before coming here, I pray over this, and often feel much freedom and joy in my role as a foreigner coming to a church and culture so different then my own. However, it is not easy to always accept this role of observer and follower. However, I am uncomfortable trying to explain my time in Indonesia to my home church and to those whom have sponsored me. I feel like they expect that I accomplish specific tasks and “get things done.” In short, they expect and I am tempted to at times to make sure that I am effective in the North American sense of the word. There is pride in accomplishing things and doing more than listening and allowing others to decide and lead. I guess that this is what being a pastor is about.”

Host family. Before coming this year in Indonesia, I do not know if I ever gave my future host family more than 5 seconds of thought. That has proved to be a massive underestimation of the impact of a host family upon my experience in Indonesia, and certainly for every other SALT position.

My host family has been a place of great highs and some lows. The way of life for my whole family is radically different then my family at home. However, it is the huge differences between the way I see life and live it compared to my host mothers where great joy and frustration lie. Indonesia’s recent acceleration into increased modernization and industrialization means that the current youth/young adult’s generation is growing up in a very different world than their parents. You may think that in Canada, a gap like that exists, but it is tiny compared to Indonesia. I just accentuate this gap even more.

Among many things in this gap, is a difference having to do with love. The way I know family love at home is so different here than at home. This is also true for friendships. The best way I can pinpoint it is to use this example.

The following questions are ways that we love people at home:

“What did you do today?”

“What did you think about your experience…?”

“What will you do later or tomorrow?”

“How was this event…?”

It is through these questions that can take different levels of intimacy that we show we care and are interested in the lives of each other.

Well, all of those questions are rarely asked to me here. I miss those questions and the conversation that comes from it. I try to ask those questions here, a range of confused faces to short quick answers is the average response.

So back to my host mothers, they ask very few questions in general. If a question is asked it is either “already showered?” or “already eat?” Not the kind of questions that beckon a lengthy conversation. Life is about work. Getting up at 5am and going to bed at 10pm, with a mix of work, sitting around and eating. If there is an important church event, that interrupts the rhythm of life. So my free-spirited, adventurous and talkative self has run into a few walls in the process of relationship building with my host mothers. So I asked me self a few weeks ago, “is the well that gives life in my host family drying up?”

I have learned and been saturated in an environment of love at home and in university. However, what I experience there is one way of loving. Rarely do people asks questions that signal to me there interest in my life or rarely do I hear compliments and encouragement, but that is just not the culture here.

The love given by people here is not less full, but it feels that way sometimes. The love of the people here is different and it takes a long time to know it, taste and embrace it. God created a plethora of cultures and these cultures each have unique and truly beautiful ways of loving each other. Indonesian love is very full. I can see it filling in gaps in my love. How wide, deep and high Jesus’ love is has been marvelously revealed in my host mothers whom truly to care and want the best for me. They make sure I leave the home wearing good tidy clothes, make sure I am never hungry, make sure to praise God for all things, make sure that I get a trim my shaggy hair (true story…haha). These are the ways that they love fully and the ways that they live out Christ’s love within them.

God's love has always been the same; however I am finding a new part of that giant heart of Love.

Around Christmas I really felt that the wells of love and life that could be given to me were drying up. I did not know where these wells of love could come from. I couldn't see how my family could be life giving, and relationships felt stagnant.

I have been seeing the water from these wells all along--I just didn't know that it was waters of love and life. I just didn't recognize it. Now I taste it and know that this is God's love.

People here are also learning how God's love works through me.....in ways that they have never seen before. It's mutual--the way cross-cultural experience should be. It's just so so easy to run around thinking that I know what love is and I call point and name it when I see it. God's love is NEVER that simple.

“I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.” ~~Ephesians 3:16-19

a video and some pictures...what is this? Christmas.....

2012-01-04T01:42:00.001-08:00

Happy New Year and Merry Christmas!

The belatedness of this comes because of a combination of business, sickness and technical glitches.
But, I come bearing gifts.

It is like having to wait until ALL the food is ready at home until you can begin eating…

It is like waiting for the 3 hour Indonesian church service to finish…..to find the bakso buffet at the end. (haha, rubbery meatballs that Salters have a minor dislike to deep distain for)

It is like waiting until after Christmas to then be able to delve into an audial visual wonder….

Behold….
The Christmas video that is imperfect like its producer, whom forgets to show where his room is in his home…..silly me. Well, one morning I took a few video clips.....and this is the end result.

Photo time......

I went to the market with the cook of my favorite small buffalo meat restaurant, while browsing the tantalizing produce, I payed 50 cents for a live catfish. Needless to say, the catfish was rather restless. The first attempt of the catfish to escape my back pack caused me to swerve and freak-out as unexpectedly my meal tried to get away on me. In the end it mets its fate as a delicious supper.

A fine specimen of Artocarpus heterophyllus, or jack fruit.

A friend, me and a stranger having a communal shower together under a waterfall.

I visited a Buddhist temple with my host family and was able to talk about the meaning of the various candles, signs etc. Chinese New Year is January 23rd, i hope to stop by at the festivities at the local temple.

The highly anticipated angklung performance occurred for the massive special Christmas program at my church. 1500 sets of eyes and ears awaited melodious rattling. This also represents the 1500 people in my church. That also means that my church is more than 2x the population size of King's University!

Jason + The world's largest Hindu temples (Prambanan) = one happy guy

A family road trip to Borobudur, the world's largest Buddhist temple. Home to every Indonesian teenager who wants a photo with me and overpriced souvenirs.

Traditional Javanese art painting depicting the birth of Jesus.

Jason practices stoicism and mediation while confusion reigns over the church's youth group.

Host family photo minus one older brother.....plus a Christmas tree. How festive.

Life has been crazy for the past month.

Lots of Christmas services and events for weeks before Christmas.
Christmas with MCC for a few days.
Christmas two day road trip with my family.
Speaking at the Youth Leadership Camp I mentioned in the last post, which was difficult to do and I learned lots, and I hope the youth did as well.
Visiting neighbors.
Going to temples and markets.
New Years eve sleeping over with the young adults.
Being sick.
Misunderstandings with my host family and the ensuing attempts for resolution.

Reflecting on my experience here so far.

Planning the coming months.

So, the gathering with people whom have HIV/AIDS was cancelled in December, so it will hopefully go ahead tomorrow.

This weekend is an interfaith forum, I will talk at it about pluralism and hope to connect with those from other faiths.

I miss family and friends more at Christmas time than any other time. Take care, Jason.

2 Prayer Requests

2011-12-14T21:23:00.000-08:00

Wow! Life is going by at an astonishing pace right now. Just just over a week until Christmas.

Christmas in the Indonesian church, at least the church I am serving at, is very different than Christmas at home.

There are 2 upcoming events that will stretch me. Sometimes, I can't predict what will stretch me, but in this case, I know beforehand. The built up has already stretched me.

First, I can't think of the last time I was so terrified and so excited for something as I am for tomorrow. I will visit a gathering of people with HIV/AIDS. This is a dream come true for me. I have always wanted to sit and talk with people whom have AIDS. At the same time, I am uneasy and uncertain going into this. There will be children and adults. Prostitutes and homosexuals. Gathered together in one home.

Prayers that I may be able to see and hear Jesus within and among the people I will sit beside. Prayers that I may have the right words and actions that does not reflect any superiority, cheap charity or pride. Pray that it may be clear that although I am a white North American, I do not come to bring medicine or money. I come to receive the stories and lives of those whom are highly stigmatized. I pray that I can discover not their poverty and the chains that bind them, but the poverty and chains in my life that limit the full life that Jesus gives.

Secondly, I am leading a 1.5 hour session at the Youth Leadership Camp for middle-high school youth. It is about living lives of worship--lives that seek justice. Like everything I do, it will be in Indonesian, which is the first challenge. The second, is that I have used words like justice so much through university, that it is a challenge for me know how to communicate that to high school youth. The third, is that I want to be creative, which always runs the risk of not working well. But with the other possibility that it is awesome. So I have created different creative ways of communicating what I could say in a speech.

Pray that I may communicate well and that my time will help create church leaders whom seek lives that love their neighbor--lives of worship.

Pray that the youth may engage the material and be inspired to become leaders that will worship fully--which will lead other to worship fully as well.

Thanks for prayers. I had to deal with an intense morning of homesickness that other day. But I take that emotion as a good and beautiful thing. Miss you all!

Where will you be next year?

2011-12-11T23:16:00.000-08:00

This is from my article to the King's University College Newspaper......

“Take chances. Make mistakes. Get messy. Be challenged. Learn some things. Teach some things. Spend a year living somewhere that you never dreamed you'd go.”

This is the tag-line for the SALT program.

Most definitely, all of the above mentioned promises for the SALT program have come true.

They could come true to you as well.

Now is the time for YOU to consider going on SALT program for 2012-2013.

I never imagined I would be eating exotic fruit and harvesting onions between some rice paddies (like I did today) a year ago.

Life is not always a picnic here eating some fruit and pulling a few onions.

This is no 2 week missions trip.

This is no vacation.

This is no polished poverty alleviation program.

This is no what you will imagine it will be like.

This is not predictable.

This is not polished.

This is not comfortable.

This is not being effective in the Western sense of that word.

This is not failure free. It’s failure ridden.

There are positions for those interested and gifted with teaching, pasturing, engineering, farming. There are positions in the deserts of Jordan, the rice paddies of Indonesia and the Savannah of Kenya.

No one has the same experience within this same program. So there are no guarantees for what will happen or how you will change.

But you will change.

Your world will change.

Your relationship to God will change.

Your relationship to others will change.

But God will not change.

Oh yah...did I mention your food will change? Just finished up a plate of fluffy rice and with a sprinkle of small fish heads. With the coaching of my fellow pastors.

Want to go? Have questions.

check out: salt.mcc.org

email me: Jason_k_horlings@hotmail.com

Picture this.

2011-12-04T23:19:00.000-08:00

Outside her home, I am with the mother of the sick child (that child is not in the photo) which I referred to in the previous post. The mother earns $8 a day rolling cigarettes for a cigarette company. The co-owners of the company have $11 billion. We talked about that.

After breaking it down for a while.....I looked around.....and there were people pulled over on the road behind me watching.

Jason's first encounter with cobra went like this.....while the cobra handler looks on unphased. I guess, it was only hissing and lunging so why not just sit back and have a smoke.

And then why not kill and then eat the cobra.....i took a pass on the cobra blood mixed with the gall bladder and spinal cartilage.

Rambutan (a fruit).....how I love you.

Picking some duku fruit with my koran/Arabic teacher. Forever grateful that I had to learn Indonesian and not Arabic.....and not sure why I would attempt to learn a new language from a man who knows no English. But it's been a blessing already. Assalamu alaikum....

I spent a good 10 minutes in pursuit of this lizard....so you better enjoy it!

While this bug, was much more photo friendly. Guess what plant it is on? Hint: I eat it three times a day.

Door-to-door communion with a pastor and a few other church members was powerful. It is for those unable to come to church because of health issues. I have never been in such a small dirty house, maybe 3 meters wide with her bed in front of you when you step through the front door. We did communion with her on her bed--there is something amazing about doing communion with someone right in the messiness and reality of life.

Walking to another home to do communion, and a fan club started with these school kids.

50 meters from my home, this is the street market. I declined the attempted sale of a live catfish today.

I journey with the Evangelism group at church ( led by one of my mothers) to a city 5 hours away. We had a church service with this recently baptized Chinese traditional fortune teller/healer.

I guess I need a blue shirt, the plaid red shirt just doesn't help me cause in Indonesia. Here are many of the young adults, celebrating 6 years of there program "Vox Reformata" ( Voice of Reformation). Mennonite or Christian Reformed? The lined is very blurred here.

"May God bless you with a restless discomfort"

2011-11-20T07:52:00.000-08:00

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)

2011-11-18T23:15:00.000-08:00

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

2011-11-17T07:53:00.000-08:00

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.

2011-11-05T09:13:00.000-07:00

“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.

Sometimes its.....

2011-10-22T09:20:00.000-07:00

Sometimes its just funny. What is some Canadian doing here in this city in Indonesia, basically floundering around. I just laugh with God. I think God laughs along me and sometimes at me. Ones in a while I try to get perspective of myself here, and its just really funny. Basically, a man trying to figure out this thing called life in Indonesia. It is hard to put into words.

This experience is unlike anything else in life.

Although, if I go abroad again after this year there would be some similarities to this, the combination occurring here is quite unique. The combination of this being my first time abroad since I was 5, a new language, new culture, new job, new people and new home, new climate. Few other times in my life will I ever being completely surrounded by people who are not from another country. Many times when people go abroad there is at least one person who is in also a foreigner.

Sometimes its frustrating.

There is one gnawing question that has pursued me this week.

How can I form deep relationships with Indonesians when asking about what they do for work is a massive undertaking? Being able to talk about things like, worship, poverty, politics, faith, dreams, struggles seems like an eternity away.

This is to be expected. But still frustrating.

I asked my dad:

“So what was your experience like with language in your time abroad in being able to communicate in depth?”

“Oh, it takes years!”

Well, at least that is honest. I guess I will have to return.

Sometimes I am completely covered in sweaty stickiness.

More like always.

Finally, I have arrived in my host community where I will stay until July. I was here 1.5 months ago. I am loving being back here in Kudus, not necessarily for all of the characteristics I outline below.

Kudus is:

--Industrial. Home to massive cigarette factories.

--Hot and Humid—feels like 40 degrees right now.

--800,000 people live in Kudus and the surrounding area.

--Muslim. Even more Islamic than most of Indonesia.

--By a mountain. But I usually can’t see it because of…..clouds or smog.

--Mennonite. Significant Mennonite community here.

Sometimes it is confusing.

Basically I am half way through a 2 week orientation of life here in Kudus. Trying to figure out family life. Trying to understand what the church is about and where I will fit into it. I am going to focus my time here in the church. There was widespread confusion about my role her in Kudus with the community. Rumors in the public school system that I was helping them. Rumors in the Christian school system that I was going to help them. Rumors in another city that I was going to work with their organization. Everyone wants me. I feel so loved. But it is also a bit confusing and overwhelming.

Sometimes its incredibly fascinating.

I had an absolutely fascinating encounter with corruption.

I was invited to join a meeting for pastors in Kudus to better understand marriage law. I can think of more riveting topics, but I thought I would join. That turned out to be a great choice.

There were 2 government employees who sat in front of a group pastors explaining how one can get the paperwork done for marriage. Then halfway through the meeting the topic turned towards payment methods for such services. One was advised to give a “gift” to the employees if one wanted to have their marriage papers completed. There was an amount established that was reiterated many times. The “gift” was not only for the employees, but also for those higher up on the ladder.

Why?

It was paying them for overtime that they were not payed for. The employees went on to describe that one was allowed to pay more as a “gift” in return for better service or could barter for a lower price. Importantly, those whom were getting the papers done were told not to talk about this when the came to the office. I was laughing out loud during the meeting with the youth pastor. They set this meeting up not because they wanted to inform the pastors how to apply for marriage, but the “gifts” lately were not up to par.

Sometimes its lonely.

This week I felt like a first-year university student in Canada who doesn’t speak English well. Now I know what my first year roommate felt like. I meet so many people with names that don’t stick in my mind at all. Ari, Aris, Andi, Andis are among favorite names here.

Probably I feel the loneliest when there are jokes and laughter going on around me which I have no idea what they are about. This happens a lot. Indonesians love to laugh. I do to, sometimes I just laugh along with them. Until I realize that it is about me.

At the same time there is a sense of exhilaration in these new places and with these people, in the same way that a new university student feels when they arrive for the first time.

If you imagine a university student with little English going to class. That is me here at meetings and gatherings.

Sometimes its boring.

Here is an example:

Indonesians love meetings. I’m serious.

The first meeting I was invited I figured would go for an 1-2 hours. Nope. 2 days.

The second meeting I was invited to I figured 1-2 hours. Nope. 9:30am-3:30pm with 5 minutes to run out and bring back a lunch. During my ummmmm.......captivity, I read 120pgs about Muslim-Christian spirituality. I have never read that many pages in one sitting. I have never read that many pages in one day before.

The meetings I went to this week were full of laughter even on mundane topics.

They never started on time.

They were never any sense of urgency to complete the meeting.

They was never a shortage of food.

And sometimes there is a shortage of patience and focus for Jason.

Sometimes it is a ridiculously fun.
There is a major “hangout” culture here. They call it to “nongkrong.” There tends to be less “things” to do as compared to at home so lots of sitting around talking and laughing…….and texting. Oh my, a cell phone is an added appendage to many Indonesians.

I feel quite free to be my self here. Some remarkably similar ways of joking around. The young adults are a great source of joy for me.

Sometimes its energizing.

Like being on the back of a motor bike weaving your way through the streets of Indonesia.

Like playing telephone dictionary with the youth.

Like eating mangoes. My daily quota of 2.

Like knowing that I will study the Koran and the Muslim faith with a recent convert.

Like realizing the how much change that has already occurred in me.

Like getting mail from a friend from Canada.

Like not knowing what your day will be like when you wake up.

Like eating something different every day. Intestines was a recent favorite.

Like having 2 cold bucket showers a day.

Sometimes there is not enough time to write.

I will cover home life and church life soon.

I hope to reflect about the over turning of assumptions, identity thoughts and culture thoughts.

Pictures will come soon.

I hope to put a video up of my home.

What is up this week? Leading games, preparing reflections, visiting peoples homes, reading, continuing to study language, visiting more church ministries. Another week of orientation.

There is something gripping about being here, I would never want to go home now.

I always miss home and the life lived with family and friends. But not so much that it is taking anything away from this experience.

Absolute Beauty.

2011-10-12T08:37:00.000-07:00

We woke up at 3:30AM from our tents which were half way up the Merbabu mountain. Then hiked to see this wonder at 3,100 meters. The highest I have ever been.

Jumping off of Mount Merbabu. Epic.

Standing at the edge of the world.

Two more volcanoes in the distance. Not called the Ring of Fire for nothing.

With hot steam blowing from the bowels of the earth, Mike and I are pretty happy to be headed for some hot springs. A separate adventure from the hike.

A walk through a mountainside.

A 40km solo bike ride into some villages surrounding a lake. I constantly had to ask where I was and how I could get back home.

Last photo gallery featured some boats filled with mud that is used for mushrooms. This is how the mud goes from the boat unto land. I thought about joining the mud delivery and then I saw this. Than I changed my mind.

Rice as far as the eye can see. With over 130 million people on the island of Java, over 800 people per square kilometer, if there isn't people on it, then it is a rice padi......or a volcano, rumor has it that those aren't the best to live on.

I was biking along and then there was an acre of land with over 30 people harvesting rice on it. I think I said something like "God, you make a good earth!"

He breaks off football sized chunks of rocks all day. He has done it for a year. He loves his work. Why? He makes lots of money. That would be $3 a day. I will never complain about boring or low paying work in my life again.

This is a 'warung"--a style of Indonesian restaurant. This is the kind of place I eat at a lot. In this picture, chicken with peanut sauce is on the menu.

reflections two months on

2011-10-12T07:29:00.001-07:00

Just over two months ago I left Smithers. It feels like a long time ago, yet I can’t believe I have been in Indonesia for a month and a half.

Life is about to change greatly in the coming days.

Tomorrow is my last day at language school.

Friday I leave for my community of Kudus to spend the next 9.5 months.

Saturday I begin my role as Pastoral Intern.

And the rest….haha…..I have no idea.

Since the future is unknown, why not talk about the past. Here I go…

Before hoping on a plane to Indonesia, I barely thought about the first 2 months of my time away. I only thought about my time in Kudus, joining the church there, and becoming apart of my host family. However, these first 2 months have been extraordinary from Orientation in Akron, being in my Kudus home for a week and language training. There has been plenty of preparation, anticipation, some nervousness and a plethora of excitement.

I never quite realized my degree of excitement and interest in living life before coming here.

My fellow SALTers ask me sometimes when I want to tell or show them something.

“Is this Jason interesting or everybody interesting?”

The end of these two months also means that all of the SALT/YAMEN participates each goes their own way. For group of 8 people from all over the earth to come together and share a lot of life together for 6 week and bond like we did, is amazing. One relationship that I am particularly thankful for is my friend Nicole from Paraguay. She is also entering a pastoral intern role in an Indonesian church and we have been able to share with each our worries and excitement about our positions. It has been a real blessing.

So how fluent is my Indonesian? Besides having constant trouble with the word “tahu” which is pronounced differently depending if you want to say “know” or “tofu.” Honestly, Indonesian is a very easy language and I have learned it far easy than I ever imagined learning it. My tumultuous experience with French is the opposite from my experience with learning Indonesian. I am at the stage where I am learning the words for “boil”, “worship” and “realize.” Of course I know important words like “cool”, “fart” and “cookies.”

It has been a joy to be apart of a second family here in Indonesia. Being in two homes has allowed me to expand my views of Indonesian family life. Gentle and patient—my host parents have had to put up with me for 6 weeks.

My dad going on a desperately shopping for boxers due to my horrible laundry planning ability.

My mom cutting up mangoes as fast I can could eat them.

My sister pulling on my thick beard and being proud of her older brother.

Okay, it wasn’t thick. And she laughed all night about it.

5. If you care to see how I think about my university studies in politics and economics relate to my work here. Read this. It is my preliminary thoughts over that connection that I submitted for the King’s University College Website.

“I have been in the PHE program for 3 years and have been enriched by the students and staff of that program greatly. The program has continued to foster in me a strong passion to see the political and economic systems of the world transformed so that they seek to glorify God. A strong interest of mine is to understand how the churches can actively work towards public justice. It is imperative that Christians realize the ideologies (idols) in the political and economic systems of the world and work towards seeking the justice and peace that God has called His church to pursue. So with that desire and three years of the PHE program completed, I am currently participating in a year long internship with the a faith-based NGO called the Mennonite Central Committee in Indonesia.

I will be doing pastoral work in an Indonesian church.

So my most common question is: "So, you have studied theology or gone to seminary?"

My answer, is "No, I am actually studying politics and economics."

Generally, a confused face is the response of whomever I am talking to.

I have yet to entered my position here in Indonesia. My initial thoughts are that politics and economics are the context to which the church exists, therefore the public life that the church is in is crucial to understanding it's mission. I hope to listen and learn from Indonesians on how they live out their faith in the Indonesian political context. Even more interesting to me, is how the church is to respond to rapid globalization in Indonesia. I am especially keen to learn about the church's reaction to this political/economic phenomena. Maybe even share my perspective from the North American experience. Issues such as environmental degradation, cultural/religious pluralism, growing income disparity are some of the other issues I look forward to learning about in the context of the church engaging in public life.

In the first 2 weeks here I heard 3 out of 4 sermons explicitly discuss a specific political event during the sermon, something that I am not used to in Canada. That really sparked my curiosity, as the church that I will work with is not shy from engaging in public life. I hope to come back to finish the PHE program invigorated from my year in Indonesia and ready to share with others about the Indonesian experience.”

Hmmm…I wondered how to write some of my personal emotions and personal transformation so far. But I found this excerpt from theologian Henri Nouwen, thanks to another SALTer. It is worth reading.

From Henri Nouwen’s Gracias!: A Latin American Journal.

After talking about negative reactions to new culture Nouwen writes……

“ But we can also use the new opportunity for our own healing. When we walk around in a strange milieu, speaking the language haltingly, and feeling out of control and like fools, we can come in touch with a part of ourselves that usually remains hidden behind the thick walls of our defenses. We can come to experience our basic vulnerability, our need for others, our deep-seated feelings of ignorance and inadequacy, and our fundamental dependency. Instead of running away from these scary feelings, we can live through them together and learn that our true value as human beings has its seat far beyond our competence and accomplishments.

One of the most rewarding aspects of living in a strange land is the experience of being loved not for what we can do, but for who we are. When we become aware that our stuttering, failing, vulnerable selves are loved even when we hardly progress, we can let go of our compulsion to prove ourselves and be free to live with others in a fellowship of the weak. That is true healing.

This psychological perspective on culture shock can open up for us a new understanding of God`s grace and our vocation to live graceful lives. In the presence of God, we are totally naked, broken, sinful, and dependent, and we realize that we can do nothing, absolutely nothing, without him. When we are willing to confess our true condition, God will embrace us with his love, a love so deep, intimate, and strong that it enables us to make all things new. I am convinced that, for Christians, culture shock can be an opportunity not only for psychological healing but also for conversion.

What moves me most in reflecting on these opportunities is that they lead us to the heart of ministry and mission. The more I think about the meaning of living and acting in the name of Christ, the more I realize that what I have to offer to others is not my intelligence, skill, power, influence, or connections, but my own human brokenness, but my own human brokenness through which the love of God can manifest itself. The celebrant in Leonard Bernstein`s Mass says: “Glass shines brighter when its broken…I never noticed that.” This, to me, is what ministry and mission are all about. Ministry is entering with our human brokenness into communion with others and speaking a word of hope. This hope is not based on any power to solve the problems of those with whom we live, but on the love of God, which becomes visible when we let go of our fears of being out of control and enter into his presence in a shared confession of weakness.

This is a hard vocation. It goes against the grain of our need for self-affirmation, self-fulfillment, and self-realization. It is a call to true humility. I, therefore, think that for those who are pulled away from their familiar surroundings and brought into a strange land where they feel again like babies, the Lord offers a unique chance not only for a personal conversion but also for an authentic ministry.”

Go tell a story.

2011-10-08T07:35:00.000-07:00

So every few weeks I have an ambitious plan to write an article for my university's newspaper. I go to King's University College in Edmonton Alberta, and I am kinda sorta a student during this year even though I am an ocean away. Here is the first article. It is along the line of my last post, but reframed a bit.

Here it goes..

From Sunday September 25 until October 2, the BBC has published two stories about a suicide bombing in a nearby church, in the city of Solo. The first story describes the event in the most basic and stereotypical details and the next explains how someone was arrested. The lack of any violence in the past week in the city of Solo surely has shocked the news companies, analysts and ordinary people like you, and me, whom predicted and awaited a wave of violence. For many, this expectation fits within a paradigm of the world that they hold.

If I never talked to those whom are working with the church that was bombed, I would be like many others. I would have heard about the event, and then filed this event into the “Violent Muslims” section of my mind. I file this story into that section because, that is where the world tells me it should go. Although I am a Christian, this labeling becomes satisfying so quickly. It is black and white view of how people get along. It’s simple and it is can be largely congruent with how many others in North America view Islam. When I am asleep to Christ’s work in the world, then news flashes about the violent acts this past Sunday go unexamined and feed fear. Fear that I ,along with an entire world, feed upon.

However, some questions need to be asked.

Why was there no news about this incident for a week? In other words, why was there no violence or retribution? If there was, you would have heard about it. But since there was not any, the news has better things to live off of. Like this here. I just checked the BBC, the latest story is about a Taliban man whom killed a Afghan negotiator. I’ll file that right now.

But wait.

I heard a different story this weekend, and my close examination of my faith tells me that the file needs a name change.

How about, “From the rumble of violence, Christ is pulling His kingdom into reality.”

As I.S. speaker Scott-Bader-Saye said last year, living in God’s providence means after every evil we have the “ability to say AND….” For the Christian, “if the story hasn’t ended well then the story hasn’t ended yet.”

Let me tell you a story, that finds its home within the much bigger story that my faith is in. It is stunning.

In the city of Solo, what has been nurtured over the past 10 years has been a collective goal between Muslims and Christians of every denomination to seek peace through dialogue, eating meals together, and common projects like disaster relief. Barriers have been broken down by the vulnerability of all those whom are taking part in this community building. They have had the humility to set aside stereotypes and fears and to open the door to the other.

When the bombing event occurred, the city leadership, religious leaders and their congregations gathered together in unity towards responding in the only way they knew how—peace.

I sounds good and it manifestation is even better. It was not just a lack of violence. There was purposeful action towards peace and love.

The largest Muslim organization in Indonesia had some of its local members pray for the church which was bombed. Muslims came to the church building itself and prayed for the congregation. Think about that. It is beautiful.

They have taught me that 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.

As someone said to me this weekend, “we do not predict the end result of a relationship”—for the Spirit is at work in the world, going ahead of us. The fruits of the Spirit are relationships that lead to peace like this. They lead to a world where violence and fear is not the last word. But that is where the BBC left it. That is where many others leave it. At every opportunity we must strive to proclaim that the fear and violence are not the last word. Not just because the Bible tells us so, but because we experience it. From September 25 to October 2 there should have been many more BBC stories about this. There will be many more stories that refuse to end with violence and fear.

Here is mine.

Tell me yours.

Soon and very soon, pictures, stories will be for you to see and hear. But you will need to wait a few days.

Overcoming Fear.

2011-09-27T07:20:00.000-07:00

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.

2011-09-25T09:16:00.000-07:00

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.

2011-09-15T09:56:00.000-07:00

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!

2011-09-04T03:19:00.000-07:00

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

2011-09-04T03:07:00.000-07:00

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.

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.

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!

The REAL Indonesia!

2011-08-29T04:30:00.000-07:00

I hope that you are excited to read this, because I am very excited to write this blog post.

First, thank-you for all your birthday wishes. I had a wonderful and unforgettable birthday, I'll tell you more in a bit.

Secondly, in the previous blog post is instructions on how to post a comment without creating an account.

Thirdly, if you have a question or something about my time here let me know by posting a comment or by email @ Jason_k_horlings@hotmail.com

Well, the real Indonesia has finally come into my life and it has been a hilarious, joyous and challenging 4 days here in Kudus. Kudus is where I will live from mid-October until July…what a great place to call home. I have been living with an Indonesian family living and attempting to live an Indonesian life the past 4 days unlike my first 5 days in Indonesia.

The Challenging

Well, I introduced myself in front of hundreds of people at 3 different church services in Indonesian. Enough said.

I met with 14 pastors of the Kudus church that I am apart of and they spoke Indonesian the entire time. Yup, you read that right. There are14 pastors for 2500 members spread between 2 congregations under the same church name here in Kudus. Unbelievable.

There is one thing that has me in disbelief here. It is poverty. What I can’t get over is not how much poverty there is or something, but how ambiguous and confusing it is.

If there was one thing that I thought I actually knew something about before coming here was poverty issues. As some of you know, I have studied poverty in some of my university classes and I am involved in university campus action and awareness around poverty. I have known about its complexity and multi-dimensional character, but poverty here has me perplexed. Why?

First, I have not talked to anyone about this yet because of the language barrier and because I rather observe and take in Indonesia before unleashing questions immediately.

Secondly, the outer appearance of Indonesia is “run-down” by North American standards. There are few things that are “nice and shiny”. There is not a drastic contrast between wealth/affluence and poverty as I expected. There are nice cars and mansions that some live in, but on the whole, from my observations, there is not a huge contrast here.

Thirdly, therefore, poverty is not easy to spot. What I mean by that is in, say, Vancouver, there is significant poverty beside incredible wealth. At least it seems that we can pin poverty down to a location and people—a community. You find this across North America. Here, I cannot say I have seen someone whom I would refer to as “poor…”..That is because my eyes do not know what to interpret from the way of life that surrounds me.

Which is good for a number of reasons:

-- Poverty is so deep and complicated that appearances give little clue as to what is actually going on in people’s lives.

-- I have an even greater desire to learn more about the poor after realizing how little I know about poverty.

-- It dispels stereotypes of poverty and the “developing countries” in a hurry

Speaking very little Indonesian and talking a lot less in the course of a day have taught me 2 things so far.

--Going from one place to another, meeting new people in each of the new places and not speaking has caused my identity to be stripped down quite a bit from what I became accustomed to in Canada. It has become quickly evident that I will be constantly reminded that my identity is found in Christ. It’s simple, but it is very real when you enter a cross-cultural context.

-- Nothing makes St. Francis of Assisi’s famous words “Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words” more real in my life than….NOW! I am challenged to think far more about my actions than ever before and I also notice others actions far more because of my limited verbal communication.

The joyous

--My family in Kudus. I am delighted to live with them for a year. They love having me here, and I love being with them. So it works out great. I consider it one family, but in North American words, I live with 2 familes that share a house. I will tell you more about them in another post as well as give you a video tour of my home.

-- Let’s just say that my family owns a bakery, restaurant and catering service. I eat very very well. I want food, I get food and when I don’t want food……I get food.

Mami and me at her bakery. She is a chef!

-- My sister Irene. She is my life-line here. She is one of the most caring and patient individual that I have ever meet. I wish you could meet her. She makes sure I take my naps ever day since I am so exhausted. She cooks breakfast for me. She drives me everywhere on the motorcycle. She teaches me new words all day. She calls out “Jason, are you okay?” when I go to the washroom. (By the way, I am very thankful for that.) She laughs at me. She prayed with me last night when I felt quite homesick. She has set a new standard of love and care in my life and I cannot imagine a better person to have welcomed me here to Indonesia.

Irene and me

--I have hung out with the young adults here. There are crazy, hilarious and speak some English. And guess what? I get to spend the whole year with them. YES!

Some young adults eating fried noodles.

Hilarious

My family and the young adults group at my church had a surprise party for me! It was great and the young adults here are easy to hang-out with and made for a great party.

As I awkwardly made my way through the birthday traditions here, one moment was particularly hilarious. I was asked to say 3 wishes. At home, we don’t really do this and if we do it is not taken too seriously. I didn’t know what they expect with this part of the birthday so I said my three wishes. I said I wanted to learn Indonesian, learn footsal and then I was stumped for a last wish.

Then someone yelled out “get a girl-friend”. I laughed and jokingly said “okay, sure.” Well, there is more weight placed on these wishes than I imagined. It took 2 minutes before the pastor asked God in prayer for not only “Jason to serve God this year” but for “Jason to find an Indonesian girl friend.” Oh my… I have laughed ever time I think about this.

I keep thinking of things to write, but that is it for now.

Much Love, Jason

How to Comment on my Blog

2011-08-26T23:41:00.000-07:00

Just a quick note on how you can comment on my blog without creating any type of account

1. Go to the end of a blog post and click on the word "comments".

2. Enter your comment and select "name/URL."

3. Enter your name and post the comment.

Why is everything so funny....

2011-08-24T09:24:00.000-07:00

Salamat Malum!
Good Evening!

The title of this post will become apparent very soon....... but first some more serious things.

This is my last night before tomorrow which is the highly anticipated day when I meet my host family and community. I have never been more excited for my year with my host family and my time of service with the church there, than these past 4 days. The past 4 days here have only fueled the flame of longing for this. Tonight, my host sister's facebook status read: Irene "is excited to meet my new little brother, Jason Horlings and other YALTERS tomorrow!" Yah, the has to be the sweetest thing I have read in a while.

You might expect, like I did, that I would be writing to you about a culture shock of some sorts or myself feeling more overwhelmed and uncomfortable with things around me here. That is a understandable thing to assume. I did as well. BUT, that has not been the case YET.

Why? I have not plunged into Indonesia like some others do in SALT or I thought I might. There are some positives and negatives about this that I can see now from my perspective 4 days in.....I am sure that will change in the long run. I have lived quite a comfortable, limited ( in the sense of engaging Indonesian life) and not immediately challenging first 4 days.....and I stress this first 4 days thing again. I have lived in an MCC staffers home and gone between other MCC staffers home and the MCC office with some group outings to street vendors and such for meals. For me, it has been a relaxing, stress-free and fun way to enter Indonesia, but I know that this is not going to be the case for the upcoming year........AND good thing it will not be. It is in the great wisdom of MCC Indonesia that they do it this way, but I have been a little rest-less the past few days ready for my host family life to start AND really wanting to jump into Indonesian life more fully.

It would be appreciated if you could pray for patience for my language learning and my limit ability to talk in depth to many Indonesians despite badly wanting to do this. Also, pray for my host family as the prepare for my life with them.

SOME TIDBITS of life....

--I will be at my host family for Idu Fitri......a MASSIVE celebration to end Ramadan. Should be great to experience.

--The food and drinks are phenomenal here--Nasi Goreng (fried rice), Mai Ayam (noodles with chicken), Soto (soup). We eat out a lot because warungs (sidewalk food shops) are everywhere and the food is very cheap for North American standards. A meal with a fruit drink is $1.50. However, for an average Indonesian laborer this is half a days wage. This is a strange thing to grasp and it is very easy to stick with my North American mind and run around eating lots and thinking about how cheap everything is, but I must strive to overturn that mindset as much as I can this year.

-- I eat a new fruit I have never seen before in my life every day. Love it!

--Besides some orientation sessions of little interest to you, we have done 2 days of language training. I have never had so much fun in class before. I had bubbles of joy in my stomach the entire first day of language training. I had some apprehension about language training....not any more. I even created a tongue twister last night which I proudly told my teacher who just laughed at me.

Here it is: cicak capek cepat cacak Say every c with a "ch" sound as in church.

try it......it means a a tired fast disabled gecko.

--Studying these words has been a great joy. In Indonesia you roll every "r" in the middle of a word. So "ngreti" ( it means understood, so I say it lots) is said with a rolling "r". You say it like "nerdy" but roll the "r". try it out. I along with everyone else laughs every time I do it.

The YAMEN and SALT participants with Putut (right bottom row) and Via (left bottom row) the language instructors.
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I will now enter the part of the blog where Jason explains a bathroom experience. I never intended this to be a theme.....and I desperately hope that it stops being a pattern in my Indonesian life. Here it goes and it may become graphic.

After regaining my self-confidence in my ability to go to the bathroom by completing a successful 2nd attempt at the squatty potty..... disaster struck my 3rd attempt and has reduced my bathroom confidence to record lows. I have taken this failure difficultly because, as my friend Ellery wrote on her blog, "Jason has religiously used the squatty potty every chance he's gotten."

After rushing into the bathroom in dire need of relief, I sheepishly reappeared from the bathroom awkwardly asking "Ummm...do you guys have any cleaning supplies? Because the worst thing that could happen in a squatty potty just happened."

Here is how I got to that point. I went to the toilet in haste and an alignment failure occurred with consequences that were terrible to endure. As explained in my first post related to the bathroom scene over here, the foot markers are not friendly to size 13 feet. You might think this is dummy proof, but I have realized that much thought and precision must go into your alignment set-up or else a tragic misfiring will occur. Such as mine. For the rest of my life I will remember looking back after a quick "movement" and seeing poop slip off the edge of the bowl towards the tile flooring. My only thoughts were "the stupid foot spots aren't accurate at all!" Still squatting, I rapidly waddled forward in search of some sort of accuracy. I hope to never have to waddle fast again.

In my laughter and desire to find a way out of this without needing outside help, I finished my business....but not without more struggle. You see, washing yourself involves water splashing in and around the toilet bowl. Well, what was next to the toilet directly below my butt, yup, you know it. It became as I called it afterwards " a diluted mess."

I proceeded to find help. I had no idea how to clean this up. But a good 15 minutes of cleaning ended my hilarious episode. While cleaning, Ellery blogged about this story has become the talk of MCC Indonesia.....what a great reputation to build on.

Next time I write I will have lived with a Indonesian family for a few days, I'll keep you posted.

Indonesia: Day 1!

2011-08-21T10:25:00.000-07:00

And so begins life in Indonesia for a year….I am finally here! But before I dive into this incredible world, I will wrap up the orientation week in Akron for you.

It seems like orientation was a long time ago already although it finished on Thursday only. As I have said in the previous post, I loved orientation, but it was definitely time to go to Indonesia after the week in Akron. I met the kinds of people that could be life-long friends, and maybe they will be. It was too bad that some of us were able to get to know each other quite well and then suddenly not see each other for a year. But the Indonesia team that I am with is great and I am really looking forward to spending language training together.

Dutch Blitz with Asian and North American friends!

One hilarious anecdote is that there was a talent show the last night in Akron, which starred me on a dance team of 5. We did a choreographed dance to “Bye, Bye, Bye” by Nsync ( a 90's boy band)……we were the biggest hit of the night and my stunning ability to dance ( or my lack of ability to dance) got me many complements. But onto more substantial things…

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After 37 hours of travel (driving 4 hrs, flying and waiting in airports for 33), I arrived in Salatiga. It is the headquarters of the MCC Indonesia program and I am staying at the home of some MCC workers. I will be here until Thursday, where I will then go to the home of family that will have me become apart of their family for the year. I am really excited about meeting them!! I know more about my host family than any other participants here. That is because I became facebook friends with a young women from Java over three weeks ago, but never looked into who she was, figuring that she must work for MCC staff. Well, I was talking to her over facebook a number of times and then a few days ago she mentioned that she will be my host sister for my upcoming year. Her name is Irene, and she just finished a year in the USA with the IVEP (MCC exchange program) so I am eagerly anticipating meeting Irene and her family in Kudus.

Flying into Jakarta......where the city meets the crops.

Let me just write a bunch of stuff that comes to mind quickly for you. As you can imagine I have been just trying to take in the different sights, smells and sounds so nothing is very coherent in my mind about everything around me. Here is some thoughts from my first full day here.

-- CRAZY driving. I realize there are worse places to drive, but I was in disbelief for the entire drive from Semarang (where I flew in) to Salatiga (where I now sit.) Motorcyles everywhere swerving everywhere.

--Today was, as a local put it, “cold.” I disagreed. But I will say that the heat is manageable.

-- The 1.5 hr drive from Semarang to Salatiga felt like one big city. There were tiny shops lining the entire stretch of the road and life was sure bustling along the entire road side. Prior to coming here, I had some fantasy of a winding road through rice paddies….hardly.

-- I got to my home for this coming week and all I wanted to do was walk around the neighborhood. So I did. I went on my own and wandering up and down the streets. The Muslim call to prayer echoed across the neighborhood. People stared at me. I awkwardly made my way around a group of teenagers who called me a "foreigner" in slang Indonesian. Some people tried to make conversation, but that ended abruptly when we could only say “hi” to each other and basically play side walk gestures for a while. Then I was invited into a tiny bicycle repair shack. I sat down on a bench with the guy who operated on this shop on the sidewalk and we once again I became stuck on the “hello” segment of the conversation. So we parted separate ways quite quickly.

-- I meet Paul, the son of the MCC country representatives here. He is really into downhill biking. So am I. He is really into crazy hiking and camping. So am I. Hopefully we will be doing both types of adventures many times this year!

-- I have had no jet lag. Maybe I’m just full of adrenaline, but I slept great. That is once I made a mental agreement with a gecko that crawled under my mattress before I went to bed. it went as follows: I wouldn’t touch him if he didn’t touch me. It worked.

-- I was up at 5:15 AM to go to church for 6 AM. Geckoes chirping, calls to prayers going out and roosters crowing are the new highly functional alarm clock of my life.

-- Nothing is like a bowl of rice soup with hot sauce for breakfast. My stomach let me know its great displeasure with that.

--At church, I was initially panicked because I quickly realized that I was going to have a very hard time talking to anyone here in Indonesia for a while. My limited ability to talk to whomever I want here will be very hard for me, but it hit me like a train this morning. There were some quirky things about this church….like the hot pink lighting that outlined the cross in front of the church. Everything was done in Indonesian….but I was told later what the sermon was about. It was an incredible sermon on seeking justice every day of our lives and he challenged everyone to ask themselves at the end of the day to think about how we worked towards justice and peace every night. I loved that, and guess what……I get to work with the Indonesian church for a year. YES!

A FUNNY STORY: Going to take care of your business in a washroom is different here. Right now, I have the choice to use a Western or an Indonesian style. But I, without hesitation on the first day here, was pretty excited to go to the washroom Indonesian style. Everyone else hasn’t attempted this feat yet, but I have completed going to the washroom once using the completely Indonesian technique. Well, I’ll need to tweak some things, but overall the mission was accomplished.

A helpful illustration of the following instructions.

Here is how:

1. Pull your pants all the way off. I say that now after not doing it for the first time. You’ll see what happened.

2. Squat over the toilet bowl that is built into the floor. This is wear I need to tweak some things. The places that are meant for my feet I somehow figured, in my foolishness, where not in the right place so I moved my feet off the feet placement pads…this nearly had devastating consequences but I managed to aim correctly.

3. Grab a bucket of water out a large tub filled with water. Using your right hand pour water down your bum. Using your left hand wash yourself. This is supposed to work great, but I had some glitches. I failed to take my pants off completely, so I had my pants around my ankle. They got soaked. Plus, I failed to hold the squat position while washing myself, so I ended up with a waterfall coming off my butt. FUN STUFF.

4. Wash your hands. I also proceeded to find help!

OKAY, enough of that.

We went walking through 1 km of rice paddies going up a hillside into a jungle. Unreal.

This is 4 of the 8 of us serving with MCC this year. From left to right. Ellery, Riki, Nancy and Lweendo.

Rice Paddies!

Rice harvesting!

Seyeva and Kevas (children of a MCC staffer) ran around with me through the fields and the jungle.

I have heard this before, but in many ways it feels like I am here physically, but my soul is not yet here. It’s rather odd to walk around on the streets here. I love it. I am full of questions. But to belong, in some sense of the word here, will take time. For me to become fully who I am and be ready to be transformed will take a process of becoming incarnate in the streets of Indonesia. This will be a process, that among other things will include language training. Which I have two days of this week.

This was ridiculously long. But you know me, I love to share my life. Hope to hear about your life as well!