Tuesday, June 25, 2013
Monday, June 17, 2013
A letter to my sister
Hey Sister,
Guess what today is...Monday Sister Lunch! If you were here we'd probably be eating attieke and fish (it's kind of like couscous) and boiled peanuts. I hope your week has been good. I think you're in New York City right now which is super cool!! I'm writing this from a town called Beoumi. It's like a 7 hour drive from Abengourou.
I was in the pharmacy a lot last week. The people who work there are really nice to me even though I know almost no French. I basically put pills in little bags and tie them up (sounds easy [and it is] but it seriously took me like four weird-looking bags before I got the hang of it). The first couple of afternoons, we spent at the maternity, cleaning off the walls and painting them. We saw the chicken farm and went to the market a couple times (probably will be one of my favorite things...I love how busy it is). I love how all the women wear pagnes, and how it's perfectly acceptable to greet people you don't know on the street with "Bonjour, ca va?", and how dancing in church is encouraged, and I'm learning to love fish because there's a lot of that here (although I haven't quite gotten there yet :)). I like it here a lot.
I remember us talking about the cost of following Christ and how it's not cheap. Remember when I was in middle school and screamed when I saw bugs? when I could barely eat because I was sick every day? when I was painfully shy? I remember being warned, doubted, challenged. People told me I couldn't be a missionary because I was too afraid of germs (and they were right. It was a fear I had to repent of and seek God's help because it was keeping me from living the way he wanted me to. But that's a story for another day...). They told me language barriers were difficult, and they were right. They told me it may be frustrating and would require unlimited patience in a seemingly fruitless field (I'm just an intern but I imagine they were right once again).
But you know what they didn't tell me (before I came)? They didn't tell me what it would feel like to lose my sense of identity--when what I've done and who I know and how I'm perceived by people who know me are stripped away--and I'm just Kelsey (actually that's not even totally true...I'm "la blanche" mostly :)). They didn't tell me it would be a daily fight with Pride. They didn't tell me what it would feel like to be embarrassed at being the one that's different. But they also didn't tell me that my heart could be so overwhelmed with joy over the way the Church is connected at the deepest, most important level - through Christ. Yep, they didn't tell me that either.
I love it here. I wish you could be here to experience it all with me but you're doing cool things (or so I hope ;)) in St. Louis with some pretty lucky Gateway youth group girls. Keep me in the loop! I'll be for sure checkin' out daisyslunchbox.blogspot.com to hear what you're learning.
xoxo
Sister
(P.S. It's 10:20 am on Monday so it's about the time I'd be getting a text from you :))
Guess what today is...Monday Sister Lunch! If you were here we'd probably be eating attieke and fish (it's kind of like couscous) and boiled peanuts. I hope your week has been good. I think you're in New York City right now which is super cool!! I'm writing this from a town called Beoumi. It's like a 7 hour drive from Abengourou.
I was in the pharmacy a lot last week. The people who work there are really nice to me even though I know almost no French. I basically put pills in little bags and tie them up (sounds easy [and it is] but it seriously took me like four weird-looking bags before I got the hang of it). The first couple of afternoons, we spent at the maternity, cleaning off the walls and painting them. We saw the chicken farm and went to the market a couple times (probably will be one of my favorite things...I love how busy it is). I love how all the women wear pagnes, and how it's perfectly acceptable to greet people you don't know on the street with "Bonjour, ca va?", and how dancing in church is encouraged, and I'm learning to love fish because there's a lot of that here (although I haven't quite gotten there yet :)). I like it here a lot.
I remember us talking about the cost of following Christ and how it's not cheap. Remember when I was in middle school and screamed when I saw bugs? when I could barely eat because I was sick every day? when I was painfully shy? I remember being warned, doubted, challenged. People told me I couldn't be a missionary because I was too afraid of germs (and they were right. It was a fear I had to repent of and seek God's help because it was keeping me from living the way he wanted me to. But that's a story for another day...). They told me language barriers were difficult, and they were right. They told me it may be frustrating and would require unlimited patience in a seemingly fruitless field (I'm just an intern but I imagine they were right once again).
But you know what they didn't tell me (before I came)? They didn't tell me what it would feel like to lose my sense of identity--when what I've done and who I know and how I'm perceived by people who know me are stripped away--and I'm just Kelsey (actually that's not even totally true...I'm "la blanche" mostly :)). They didn't tell me it would be a daily fight with Pride. They didn't tell me what it would feel like to be embarrassed at being the one that's different. But they also didn't tell me that my heart could be so overwhelmed with joy over the way the Church is connected at the deepest, most important level - through Christ. Yep, they didn't tell me that either.
I love it here. I wish you could be here to experience it all with me but you're doing cool things (or so I hope ;)) in St. Louis with some pretty lucky Gateway youth group girls. Keep me in the loop! I'll be for sure checkin' out daisyslunchbox.blogspot.com to hear what you're learning.
xoxo
Sister
(P.S. It's 10:20 am on Monday so it's about the time I'd be getting a text from you :))
Friday, June 7, 2013
Learning
This afternoon we were able to visit a Djoula Muslim neighborhood and watch the Jesus Film with the residents. We were told that this was the first movie some of the kids had ever seen in Djoula, their heart language. How awesome is that?!
At the start of the movie, I thought I would try to pick up some of the language (which is nothing like French, by the way), but I was mostly preoccupied with the little girl sitting on my lap. She picked up my hands, rubbed them against hers, pressed her tiny fingers into each of my long fingernails, and twisted my rings around. Her fingers stopped briefly over the place where the blue veins in my wrist are particularly visible. Every once in a while she reached back and touched the tips of my hair. And near the end of the movie, she put her tiny hand over my heart, head under my chin, and looked straight into me with those beautiful dark brown eyes.
In that moment, I thanked God that someone thought she was worth it. At some point in time, someone came along who knew the Djoula people were worth giving up anything to explain Jesus in ways that make sense to them. They are worth learning an unfamiliar language. They are worth embracing different kinds of communication. They are worth driving down a bumpy Ivoirian road to watch a movie about Jesus. ;) They are worth it! And I'm thankful that someone (way back when) sacrificed time and perhaps a different way of life--a more intentional, patient, always-pursuing-and-never-giving-up way of life in order to lead my family to Christ--because they believed we were worth it.
And that is kind of what God did for us as well. He offered salvation in a way that made sense to us - not by staying in heaven (how would we understand that?), but by sending Jesus who took on the image of the people he was trying to reach. He spoke the language, used relevant parables (farming, fishing, etc), ate with people in their homes, and took time to bless children and notice widows. He changed so we could understand. And if I hope for the world to comprehend the grace and truth that are wrapped up in the message of Jesus Christ, then I have to change as well.
This reminds me of something Paul says in 1 Corinthians 9:
At the start of the movie, I thought I would try to pick up some of the language (which is nothing like French, by the way), but I was mostly preoccupied with the little girl sitting on my lap. She picked up my hands, rubbed them against hers, pressed her tiny fingers into each of my long fingernails, and twisted my rings around. Her fingers stopped briefly over the place where the blue veins in my wrist are particularly visible. Every once in a while she reached back and touched the tips of my hair. And near the end of the movie, she put her tiny hand over my heart, head under my chin, and looked straight into me with those beautiful dark brown eyes.
In that moment, I thanked God that someone thought she was worth it. At some point in time, someone came along who knew the Djoula people were worth giving up anything to explain Jesus in ways that make sense to them. They are worth learning an unfamiliar language. They are worth embracing different kinds of communication. They are worth driving down a bumpy Ivoirian road to watch a movie about Jesus. ;) They are worth it! And I'm thankful that someone (way back when) sacrificed time and perhaps a different way of life--a more intentional, patient, always-pursuing-and-never-giving-up way of life in order to lead my family to Christ--because they believed we were worth it.
And that is kind of what God did for us as well. He offered salvation in a way that made sense to us - not by staying in heaven (how would we understand that?), but by sending Jesus who took on the image of the people he was trying to reach. He spoke the language, used relevant parables (farming, fishing, etc), ate with people in their homes, and took time to bless children and notice widows. He changed so we could understand. And if I hope for the world to comprehend the grace and truth that are wrapped up in the message of Jesus Christ, then I have to change as well.
This reminds me of something Paul says in 1 Corinthians 9:
Though I am free and belong to no man,
I make myself a slave to everyone, to win as many
as possible.
To the Jews I became like a Jew, to win
the Jews...
I have become all things to all men, so that
by all possible means I might save some.
Maybe I don't have to change. But why wouldn't I? Are my habits and pleasures and time-fillers honestly worth more than a person who sees Jesus better because I changed the way I live? I don't think so. And I'm praying that I live in a way that backs up that statement. Being a servant, a follower, a learner is hard. But it's worth it. If you don't believe me, I'll show you a picture of the little girl with the big brown eyes.
I didn't have to go to Africa to realize I need to change myself. That's called being a servant. The way I talk to my sister is different from the way I talk to my roommate and both of those are different from the way I talk to my grandpa--and those are all people close to my heart and within the same midwestern American culture! Being culturally sensitive has so much to do with being a servant. I'm learning to give up talking how I want to, when I want to, and about the things I want to. I'm learning (oh, I am so learning the hard way...by doing it so so wrong so many times) to give up the things I do and say and think and then to replace them with the things of Jesus. And I am so incredibly blessed to get to learn from wonderful, wonderful people in Ivory Coast. God is so much better to me than I deserve.
xoxo
kelsey
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